Wicked Magic Pt. 02

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Alas, the forest held too many temptations for them to be safe and that they had not encountered danger so far was merely the fortune of luck, for the true darkness of the forest had been lurking, all the while, closer than they'd realised.

Sandor blinked blearily, stretching out his arms over his head within the confines of the tent, leaving Alyssa where she was as he pushed open the flap, allowing a bright stream of sunshine into the abode.

"Yah!"

He yelped, something lashing around his waist, yanking him outside so swiftly that he caught his head on the tent pole, lips twisting into a snarl a moment too late to warn Alyssa. Something thick wrapped around his waist and legs, curling tightly -- a vine of some kind? A tentacle? But the sunshine was brief, something looming, a foe so great that they had waited for exactly the opportune moment to strike, all when their prey was unaware.

He puffed and huffed as the tentacle around him, green and slightly slimy, faintly so, squeezed more tightly, cutting off air from his lungs, his eyes straining, watering, jaws opening and closing for breath that could not come. What had happened? Was it a foe? Was it the forest? He couldn't see, only a mass of twisting, writhing tentacles filling his vision as his heart plummeted. Why hadn't his magic perceived such a foe -- particularly when it was of the natural kind?

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

He growled, eyes narrowing, ignoring the lack of air, though he didn't have his staff either, what he used to channel his magic and, of course, partially store mana. He pulled on his natural ability, but the pressure of the tentacle crushing him was too great, holding him right on the cusp of being able to draw a little air into his lungs but no more than that.

He wheezed, his senses dulled, yet the tent flap fluttered again, the doe-taur appearing, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Sandor... What's going on?"

But it was too late for her as another tentacle whipped out from the mass and curled around her, dragging her squealing from the ground, although more than one vine-like appendage was needed to tie up her legs to her body and her arms to her torso, rendering her incapacitated.

"No!"

Sandor's eyes watered, fighting, snarling, heaving, but he had to retain all the energy his could, even though every fibre of his being screamed at him to go to her, to help her, to save her. that was why he had worked so hard at magic, was it not? He wanted to be strong, to be powerful, all to protect, all to save -- and now what had he done? Both squirmed and fought, but it was no use, not against a foe that neither of them could ever have been prepared for.

It seems that I have caught my prey...

Sandor blinked. Had he really heard that? Was it a voice? But he couldn't linger on that, not as the ground below them rumbled, a tree emerging as if it was growing in rapid speed, branches unfurling, a huge, deciduous tree with branches thick with leaves and fat, red fruit that he did not recognise. Yet the leaves were not green but dark and twisted, the trunk gnarled, yet that was only a demonstration of its power, how it was corrupted, a creature of evil that was neither true flora nor fauna, but something that was an amalgamation of both.

From the branches sprouted the mass of tentacles, pressure closing in on the pair from all sides, even if they had not honestly felt claustrophobic prior. The withered, aged tree radiated power and yet there was something that it needed too, the trunk quivering with something akin to a groan, yet not a sound that could ever have come from either the mouth of an anthro or a human.

No... It was something much more than that, releasing its grasp on both of them for long enough for them to gasp, heaving for breath -- and then shoving a tentacle into both holes once they were gaping for it. Alyssa shrieked around the tentacle stuffing her mouth full, yet could not help but swallow, just from the pressure, as it squirted something sweet and tangy into the back of her mouth. It clung to her throat even as she gulped, eyes wide with fear, fingers opening and closing from fists as she ached to reach for her lover.

Yet Sandor was in a similar position to her, growling as the tentacle stuffed his mouth, sliding into his throat to ensure his compliance, yet his body jerked with need the moment that strange fluid had slid down his throat. If there was any question about what it did, it all became clear as his cock hardened instantly, the throbbing length of it proud and on show in a rise of pink flesh.

Against his will, he moaned, thrusting, grinding, struggling to break free, but not for the reasons that the tree might have seen it as. And to see a treat like the fox squirming just like that, oh... Oh, it was too tempting, for the tree had not been fed prey like him in so long. The two of them had stumbled right into its grasp in its stronghold and now the tree was going to become so much more powerful for the milking of their bodies and their souls.

Tentacles crawled over the fox, cutting off his ability to see, panic clawing at his chest, though sensation overtook that as something pressed up under his tail. He'd never been penetrated there before, but the tree didn't care about that as a tentacle with a strange yet soft barb at the tip pressed into his anal ring, sliding deep, his body aching, straining, throbbing in a new way. He didn't want it and yet his body wanted it, heaving, grunting, panting, unable to see as his body thrust, a puppet to be used and abused on the tentacle stretching him open, feeding more and more into his tail hole.

His backside was forced to open around the tentacle, Sandor no longer an active player in his own life, bound and forced, passive in whimpering lust that had no place in his body, not at that time. He didn't want it, not as he was penetrated so deeply, so crudely, the barb raking back over his prostate, stimulating him when he wanted anything but that, anything at all. He wanted to be free and yet another tentacle parted to latch onto and over his cock, sucking it down, flexing and pulling around his cock.

Too late, he remembered what Elder Ron had said about mana, where it could be created with the use of his own semen. It seemed that there were other more vicious evils that knew of that in the world already, when they had all been so complacent as to think that they were the only intelligent beings that knew of that trick.

His heart lurched, yet Alyssa could not tell that, not as she stared, wide-eyed with fear, the fox that she loved like a mummy, he was so wrapped up in tentacles. Hardly any of his white fur could be seen, but she could see how the two tentacles thrust and ground, one sucking his cock down and flexing noticeably, while more and more of the other one disappeared into his backside. Her legs tried to squeeze together in silent sympathy, yet there was nothing the doe-taur could do, wriggling, kicking weakly, her own limbs all bound right up to her body as if she had become a toy of the tree too.

Maybe worse than that...but Alyssa did not know what kind of evil they were dealing with. Not as she whined and begged faintly for release, Sandor thrusting and grinding into the air, losing his sense of self. The prickling heat of lust curled through the pit of her stomach too, rendering her slit wet, dripping, arousal throbbing, though she didn't have quite the problem with being forced into stimulation as he did. Not yet anyway.

Sandor heaved and panted, though he couldn't stop it, couldn't hold it back, not as pleasure raced through him, throb after throb bringing forth with it a high that he could not ignore. The barb and tentacle ground tantalisingly over his prostate, the tree knowing exactly what it was doing. The creature, whatever it was, may not have eyes, but the magical entity knew what it was doing to him, how it was using and abusing him, how it ground deeply into him to push him over the edge.

The fox convulsed and cried out, though his muzzle was wrapped up in tentacles too, forced to submit, his body aching for more as he spent his seed into the tentacle, the creature stealing his life force, what could be used to generate more and more mana. He heaved and panted, but that was not the end of it, domination swimming over him, like the weight of water pressing him down and down and down, undoubtedly forcing him, one way or another, to submit. To the fox, there was simply no other option available to him, nothing that the tree would accept, even as his mind reeled, fighting through sensation to try to think of something, anything, that could get him and Alyssa out of such a dreadful situation.

He ached and jerked, shuddering through yet another sensation, one that he very much had not expected. Although Sandor could not see it, the tree had sprouted a series of smaller, nippier tentacles to toy with his nuts, forcing his body into a pulse of overstimulation as they, quite literally, whipped his balls. The fox moaned through the mass of tentacles, shuddering in place, the flow of pleasure tamed, but in a way that the need to climax, to spend his seed, increased tenfold. It was a kind of torture that left his body, viciously, wanting more and his mind torn between two conflicting courses of action.

To fight or to succumb... Oh, but he had never had a choice, not as the tentacle rammed into his maw was joined by a second, worming their way down and into his throat so that no more moans would come. Any cries he made were muffled, forced to suck on them, saliva coating them, dripping and drooling, as if he couldn't even control his body as yet another climax ripped through him, his arse feeling so full, so strained.

The deer-taur, on the other hand, was forced to the ground, while the tentacles kept her facing her lover, watching his abuse, how he was taken against his will -- against her will too! He was hers, they had said that to each other -- and now this tree thought that it could abuse him before her very eyes? For the first time, anger flared in the pit of her stomach, though it was mostly borne through arousal, misplaced and finding something, anything, that it could latch onto for some semblance of control.

Her backside was exposed, however, the tentacles swarming her, aching and crawling over her. Although Alyssa shuddered, she pushed into its touch, her body no longer under her control, as much as her mind screamed at her to pull away. She even tried biting at the tentacle in her mouth, cheeks hot with a fierce blush, but it did no good as it merely thickened up to

On the ground with her tail in the air and her holes exposed, the three could do whatever it liked to her, adjusting its tentacles on her form. Her arms were tied behind her back, leaving her chest exposed for other tentacles to play with, smaller ones crawling over them and twisting around her breasts, toying with her nipples. Although she shuddered, Alyssa still kept her chin defiantly high, hoping against hope that she could get out of it, somehow, somewhere. But how was she meant to do any of that when she was just a doe-taur and her boyfriend, a magic user, had not been able to do anything at all against the might of the tree?

Mine...

No... No, she did not belong to the tree, she was Sandor's, only his, as he was only hers. Her resolution faltered as something pressed under her tail, but Alyssa was not to be blamed as she moaned around the tentacle, both her pussy and arse penetrated at once in a single, well-timed stab.

The tentacles drove deeply into her, slick with their own lubrication, as if it was a kind of wetter, slipperier sap than what she was used to, though they made her head swim. She'd not taken anything up under her tail before, not even the once, and her stomach lurched, twisting and tying itself up into knots as if everything was only then getting started.

Pleasure mounted, all against her will, grunting and moaning around the two tentacles stuffing her mouth, her cheeks puffing out as she tried to contain them, helplessly pushing back against them with her tongue. But it was no good, useless at best, their muffled moans tangling in the air.

Together, but not, both used, both abused. And there was not a damn thing they could do about it as the tentacles twisted inside them, making them feel as if they were joined in some way, but, of course, it was the tree that was in control. It had no use for them other than for nefarious means, feeding off their moans, their sexual juices, its power, in the background, growing. Slowly, the branches plumped out with more dark leaves, twisted with the dark-green lure of the land from which it had been born, growing as if naturally, even though there was nothing natural about it.

Even more fruits swelled, bright red as if they were something that should never have been eaten, a warning to all that came by. Yet the tree did not warn travellers not to sleep under their branches, not to sample their fruits. It was all the better for the tree that could drain them of their life essence, further their twisted pull for dark, sordid power.

Pleasure unlike any other swept through the doe-taur, humping and grinding, her body moving without her consent, though it was mostly the tentacles doing it for her, toying with her body, back and forth, using her like a masturbatory aid -- though that was using rather polite language. She blushed fiercely to be reduced to such a thing, her pussy and tail hole strained to such an extent that she could not imagine not being that full ever again, though that was very much a foreign thought to her. It was not a thought that Alyssa wanted to allow into her mind, not as she moaned and squeezed around the tentacles slamming into her, more and more roughly.

They did not care for her, not for her pleasure, but it was Sandor that clenched his paws into fists, trying to rebel, striving to revolt. Yet with every orgasm, the tree extracted more and more mana from his cum, the flow of it seemingly endless, as if he had been overstimulated to the point that his aching nuts were producing more and more cum. He shuddered. Maybe the tree had even made it so that he could not stop generating cum and, therefore, more mana, forcing him to need the tree even against his will and judgement.

That was a horrifying thought, though his ears twitched, trying to catch Alyssa's moans, his stomach lurching in terror for what was happening to her. He grunted and groaned around the tentacles, losing control as his body arched, the doe-taur watching helplessly as he contributed his seed to the tree, every last drop of it and then some. Everything that the tree forced him to produce would become the property of the tree and lost to him, forevermore. The seed, his mana... All of it.

He heaved, grunting, sweating, fur thick with dampness under his arms and at the other points of his glands, where he tried to reduce the heat building in his body more and more. Though he could not help it, not at all, out of control, a toy contorting in the air as the tree forced him to dance to its whim.

The doe whimpered, her head hanging, though she was not as strong as her partner, not knowing what to do. As much as she tried to think, her thoughts came more and more sluggishly, as if she was losing her sense of self, panting, whimpering, weakly trying to turn her head from side to side. Yet she was forced to feel everything in the moment, aching through, her body contracting, squeezing down around the tentacles.

But she was not weak, no... No, that was the tree's mistaken in treating her as such, a living entity that, of course, was still capable of making mistakes. That was what she had to lean into, what she had to focus on, grunting thickly in the back of her throat, muscles aching, tense with need.

And yet that need was not something she would take from the tree, not as her hands balled into fists, eyes open, narrowing with a fresh edge of determination. Orgasm may have been taken from her, but it helped a little that the tree's attention was more on her boyfriend than her. That gave the doe-taur an opening, all to show her resolve, watching and grunting as her partner moaned through yet another orgasm.

She could not let him fall to the tree, oh no... No, she could not, she could not let it happen, she had to fight back, the restraints around her weakening, flowing and rippling as she stilled, letting the tree think that she had given up. But the doe-taur had only been waiting for the perfect moment, wrenching herself free with a muted cry, the tentacle slithering free from her lips as she leapt up onto shaky legs.

Yet Alyssa's legs started to buckle, panting, heaving, straining and scrabbling back to the tent. She was not fleeing, for that would have been to leave Sandor behind -- something that she very much would not do -- but racing for his staff. Oh, it was there, the channel of his power, what allowed him to shape and pull his magic into useful forms, though he had his own ability too with his natural mana. Alyssa didn't know how much of that the fox could draw on with so much going on at once, her legs shaking, lunging for the staff. Somehow, the wood was warm to the touch, though her hooves skittered, stumbling over her own hooves in her haste to get back out there.

Sandor wormed his arm free, ears pricked, though his jaws hung open around the tentacle as the tree's attention wavered, taking the moment that was offered to him. His heart surged as his eyes locked onto Alyssa, heart overly full with warmth for her, spilling over. He needed that, needed her, his doe who was there for him always, always and forever.

"Sandor!"

She tossed the staff, putting her whole body into the throw to reach him in in the air, fifteen feet up in the air, encased by tentacles. Yet his orgasm, that time, was just about tapering off, quivering with the feeling of lost something, of sacrificing his own mana to the tree against his will, allowing him to stretch out. The staff landed in his paw and he closed his fingers tightly around the old, familiar wood, the lines in it soft and warm to his touch.

No words, no... That would alert the tree to what was going on, what he was doing, panting and shuddering. He had to draw on his power within, using the staff to cast, to channel, for his magic could not truly be pulled from his being without it. It was a skill as much as it was inherent ability, though so much practise made it second nature to him.

Flames flickered, swelling, bursting, leaping and dancing in a merry snarl of red and orange fire. The tree shrieked, tentacles writhing, magic searing into its "skin", burrowing deep, tentacles charred and smoking even as it strove to hold onto their prey. But the fox was too quick as he swept his staff, with a little more freedom offered to him, from left to ride, sending an explosion of flame into the heart of the mass of twisting tentacles.

BOOM!

With an almighty boom, like a clap of thunder heard up close, the tree retreated, tentacles shooting back, the fox dropped, even though he was slick with his juices and those of the tree. Even then, he gasped as his body was relinquished from the grasp of the wicked tentacles, his cock sore and still hard, though Sandor doubted that that was something that he could have rectified all that quickly at all.

He would have to push through it, levelling his staff, ignoring the drip of whatever it was that the tree had excreted oozing into his eyes. With a low growl, he bared his teeth in warning, a feral nuance left over from the years of evolution that pondered through his ancestors, tail lashing the air stiffly. To his back, the doe-taur watched breathlessly, though her body still ached from the penetration of the tentacles, something deep inside her wanting it back. But she didn't want the tree back, no, of course not, but the sensation of fullness, her eyes landing, even against her will, lustfully on her partner.