Honeysuckle Well Ch. 01

Lorelei's Note: This commissioned series features boy-with-cock POVs and contains fantasy nc (moderate-to-heavy), femdom/malesub, hypnosis, honey-drugging, md;lb, degradation/humiliation, breastfeeding, brainwashing, fantastical misandry, and everything else listed in the tags. Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A great many things could be found in the western strawberry meadows.

Golden summer sunlight streamed down from the western skies, casting pretty reflections off of the dewy plants that blanketed the meadow and bathing the meadow in the last kiss of the day. The strawberry plants grew throughout the meadow, of course, lush and verdant, right in season, joyously celebrating the primes of their short existences. And interspersing the plants were, dotted here and there like irascible weeds, many dozens of gray stones--some wide and flat like tablets, some tall and hexagonal like basalt pillars, some broken, some intact, some rough and unhewn, some standing at waist height and some the size of a fingertip, some jutting from the earth and some lying half-immersed in the mud, but all inscribed with infinitesimal runes, runes of a tongue nobody around here wanted to speak.

Clover himself stood in the meadow as well, a fit, well-built dark-haired man of average height with a chiseled jaw and an unflinching gaze. His brow furrowed as he surveyed the clearing.

Many things could be found in the strawberry meadow. But one thing that could not be found in the strawberry meadow was a single ripe strawberry.

He knelt to inspect one of the little leafy plants. On this one there was only one little unripe white berry--a wispberry, as the villagers called them--and one fully ripe red strawberry that had, unfortunately, met the hungry end of a garden slug. He reached down and pushed the leaves back, eyes narrowing, searching in vain.

He straightened with a sigh, looking about the strawberry glade, and chewed his upper lip. This was not good.

Clover had had to harangue the elders for weeks to let him manage this patch of land, not to mention the money he'd had to borrow off of the Tailor sisters to cover the year's rent for it. He'd had to plead his case over and over that he could handle it, that he didn't need a partner, that the meadow wouldn't go to waste. Nevermind that nobody ever wanted to use these meadows anyways. Nevermind that he was 24, a grown man, and had been helping to maintain the fields of others for years, knew exactly what he was doing.

Everyone had implied he couldn't handle it on his own--that the glade was too far out, too close to the Runefield, too dangerous, even, that he'd get absent-minded and stay out too close to dark. They'd suggested he take a partner--even one of the Tailor sisters, as if he needed a girl a year younger to monitor him! But he had insisted he could handle it. Clover was a strong, capable man, and did not believe in asking for help when he could do something himself. He'd looked forward to rubbing it in everyone's face--especially those stuck-up Tailors.

And now... Clover grimaced, rising from what feld like the thirtieth plant he'd fruitlessly double-checked. Now it was nearly dusk, a week from the harvest festival, and there was nothing. Nothing at all.

But how could there be nothing? It didn't make sense! Cursing, he kicked at the dirt, sending clods of earth and rune-scribed pebbles flying across the meadow.

As the dirt settled, Clover gave a grumbling sigh. He walked over and stooped to retrieve his basket of carrots. He just wouldn't have any berries to share come festival. At least the carrots down the hill had done well, but he'd really hoped...

A rosy shadow swept over his surroundings, and a chilly wind sent his dark mid-length hair right into his eyes.

Sputtering, Clover looked up at the sky--and realized with a start that he had dallied too long.

Clover's eyes followed the sun's arc across golden clouds and descended to the outline of the distant western badlands. The bleed of the dusk sun had begun to flow swift across the horizon like waters filling a floodplane. Suddenly, the whole world was awash in a vivid pink glow glow.

Thinking fast. Clover snatched up the strawberry and straightened. He could come back tomorrow, maybe, but the last thing he needed was to get back to the village a half-hour after sundown and earn a lecture on top of everything else.

He turned to leave, not quite looking where he was going -

--and tripped over a protruding runestone.

Clover staggered and lunged out, his knuckles whitening around the protruding rock he grabbed to catch himself just in time.

Recovering his balance, the farmer hissed under his breath. He'd dropped the basket. Carrots lay spilled out over the ground around him now, as if they'd positively flung themselves away in their eagerness to make his life just a little bit harder.

He let out a groan and dropped to his knees. Damn it. Damn it!

He hastened to gather up what he could of the harvest. Clover wasn't too nervous about the setting sun--he'd never seen anything dangerous around this place before, and he had a dagger in his boot and a pair of strong arms if anything did try to mess with him. He was more dreading being caught getting home late and being expected to explain his meager harvest to the other villagers.

All the same, all his focus was on picking carrots out from the leafy undergrowth and tossing them back into the basket as quickly as he possibly could. And so he was caught quite by surprise when his gaze traveled up and he saw it.

At first, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Perhaps the sunset was just very bright, Perhaps his vision was failing him. Perhaps it was just too dark too see clearly.

But... no. He squinted, surprised to find himself not so much scared as... puzzled. No, it was real, alright.

A swirling, roiling cloud of golden-pink mist was flooding through the forest from the west, rushing between the densely-packed trees like a great tidal rosy wave and spilling rapidly into the clearing.

Clover reached up and rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. Twice.

And then the mist was upon him.

Strangely, Clover felt no chill as it settled around him. He didn't smell anything, either, as far as he could tell. He frowned, worry warring with curiosity warring with simple confusion.

Strangest of all, within seconds his eyes seemed to have... adjusted. He could see everything around him without much of any obscurity. Were it not for the slight pink tint to everything, Clover might have doubted the mist existed at all.

Clover stared around him. He hesitated. Then he glanced down at the basket and resumed slowly retrieving carrots. This was... weird, he decided. It didn't seem dangerous, and he didn't feel worried, but... well, better retrieve what little he'd harvested and get back to the village quickly.

He grabbed the last carrot he could easily see, took a deep breath, and made to rise to his feet.

But then he paused.

Clover squinted. A glimmer of red had caught his eye, just a little towards the western edge of the clearing.

It couldn't be. But... he took a step closer, head tilting to the side. It was.

Resting there on the ground right in front of him, as peaceful as if it had been dropped there by a sleepwalking goddess, was a single perfect, ripe, plump strawberry.

"What the hell?" Clover muttered under his breath.

It wasn't attached to any plant. it was just... lying there, as if it had simply casually rolled away from the patch. But he was sure he would have remembered picking a berry like that.

It looked delicious. Flawless, even. It looked just as he'd expected the harvest to be a week ago: fully ripe, but still bearing the sheen that promised juicy, firm tartness.

Coming to stand over the berry, he reached down hesitantly and picked it up.

The berry looked perfectly unblemished. He twirled it around between his fingertips and marveled at how the faint rosy lighting seemed to shimmer off of it. There was not a bite. Not a mark. Not even any smudges of dirt.

It was the only berry he'd found, he reasoned subconsciously, licking his lips. It wasn't as if he could sell it.

So it felt quite perfectly natural to simply... pop it into his mouth.

The second Clover bit into it, his mind sparkled at flavors of utter sweetness. It was as sweet as the air he breathed, as juicy and plump as a cupid's kiss. It wasn't even a little tart, but he found that didn't detract from its delights one bit, and couldn't even remember why anyone would want a tart berry when sweetness could taste so spellbindingly good.

He gave a soft, unthinking sigh, savoring the taste of pure perfection. This was a perfect strawberry, and he was almost floating in clouds as he slowly chewed and allowed the juice to burst onto his tongue. Clover no longer felt so hurried at all. He wanted to take time to enjoy this this; it was probably going to be the only strawberry he found this harvest, after all.

Except...

Clover's eyes opened. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them, and he felt slightly embarrassed--until he noticed something on the ground just a bit ahead of him, just at the western edge of the strawberry patch.

It was another strawberry. Ruby-red. Plump and perfectly ripe.

His mouth watered.

After a moment's hesitation, and a deep breath to make sure he was being sensible, that he wasn't being reckless, that he was getting enough air to make smart decisions, Clover walked forward slowly, cautiously, and bend over to pick up the strawberry.

Clover's head flicked to the side. He'd almost thought he heard a voice in his ear for a moment. A faint, honeyed whisper of words he couldn't quite make out. But there was no one there.

He bit his lip, momentarily ill at-ease. He looked down at the strawberry there on the ground, inches from his hand. So luscious. So ripe. Such a pretty shade of red, glimmering so invitingly in the misty dusk light.

It wasn't as if he was going to be able to sell it, he reasoned. It was just one strawberry. Hadn't he grown it? Didn't he have the right to enjoy it? He'd probably just picked it and forgotten about it. It explained why the green calyces had been removed from this one, just like the last.

There was no harm in tasting it. It probably wasn't even that good. He licked his lips. He might as well, right?

No sooner was the berry in his hand than it was popped into his mouth.

And he almost moaned. Oh, gods. It was just as wonderful and sweet as the last. Normally such sweetness would be saccharine, especially for a grown man, but... saccharinity tasted so wonderful somehow, and it was so juicy and firm... and there was no harm in it, was there?

No. Of course not. He smiled as he swallowed the delectable fruit, mind sparkling with happiness at the perfect taste. He wouldn't be able to sell these, so at least he could enjoy the couple that...

He blinked.

Just a few feet outside the meadow, continuing in the same direction as the last...

... was another ripe red strawberry. It lay there on the ground, nestled safely amid a small cluster of rune-covered pebbles, nice and easy to spot.

Clover took a deep breath in, trying to settle a slight dizziness he felt. He felt dimly as though there was some reason he shouldn't--felt dimly some sort of annoyance, or frustration, or embarrassment, at what the villagers would say if they could see him here. There was something that one Tailor girl had said, in particular... something about... oh, what was it?

But he was already stepping outside the patch.

He scoffed, licking his surprisingly dry lips. As if he'd let some girl dictate his actions. He came out here all the time. What difference did it make if he took a step or two off the path? He knew where he was going. He knew what he was doing.

Besides, it was only one more strawberry, he reasoned to himself. He walked over, slowly, languid in his footsteps, and plucked up the beautiful red berry from where it had fallen.

Briefly, Clover almost thought he heard that voice again as he did so. A sweet, wispy voice, delicate and feminine, whispering two words.

"Good boy~"

Again, he looked around. And again, he saw nothing. He hesitated, then looked back down at the berry.

He marveled briefly at its perfection, then, with a smile as he anticipated the flavors, popped the strawberry into his mouth.

Dazzling pleasure poured through him like trickling syrup as he chewed. His eyelids fluttered. Gods, these were fantastic. He'd had no idea what an amazing strawberry farmer he was, but he was sure he never wanted to grow anything but strawberries from now on.

And he'd already spotted another strawberry.

He knew he probably shouldn't. The villagers would disapprove. It was rash. But... but it looked so tasty, and...

... it wasn't like anyone had to know, he reasoned. He didn't have to tell anyone he'd strayed a little.

"That's right," he thought he heard a lady whispering from behind him. "No harm in one more~"

It wasn't like he couldn't handle himself. A lazy smirk spread across his face as he walked over to the next berry, his footsteps a little clumsy, almost stumbling over a small boulder as he went. He was perfectly... capable. He was a grown man, after all. Just a few more steps off the safe trails couldn't hurt any.

He nodded confidently to himself and continued, bent over, and bit into the strawberry. He almost squirmed at how delicious this one was, licked his lips to catch the juices dribbling out. It was heavenly. Forget a cupid's kiss, this was like an angel's kiss. Only an angel could be so sweet. So perfect.

"Mmm, so sweet," cooed the phantom voice. The voice was so soft and delicate. So sultry and seductive. So easy to allow to drift just out of his focus, to not worry about too much...

His eyes strayed to the next berry, this one nestled amid some pretty wild primroses. He wasn't even finished with the last berry as he began wandering over dreamily towards it.

And then the next. Then the next.

Clover continued through the fog, footstep after heavy, plodding footstep, led along by the trail of sweet berries. His spirits seemed to grow lighter with every berry he ate, his worries quieter, dimmer, foggier, less important with every breath he took in of the sweet, pink mist. And the soft, girlish voice in his head just continued to encourage him, just faintly enough that he supposed it must be in his head, but so sweet, so inviting...

"No harm in straying a little, is there?" the voice reasoned. "You're just investigating something interesting!"

"Best to... investigate..." he mumbled to himself, laughing softly, sure it was his own idea. He knew he was too strong-willed to be influenced by anyone else, after all. The voice was clearly in his head. He bent over and ate up another delectable strawberry, sighing in dreamy bliss as the juices spilled from his mouth, as he sucked his fingers clean of every trace of the addictive flavors.

He almost wondered why he'd even been worried about coming out here, actually. He found himself smiling smugly at the thought. As if anyone or anything was out here that could threaten him. He picked up a particularly inviting little pile of strawberries--five berries, so very neatly stacked into a little pyramid, left there as if waiting for him--and began eating them hungrily, messily, as he continued, on, looking for the next strawberry, the next gift from the forest, the next whisper of sweet praise in his ear...

Clover frowned. He kept stumbling on ahead, but in his murky, blurry mind, he began to wonder why he couldn't see any more berries nearby.

He kept walking in the same direction nevertheless, just to be sure. Surely there should be... surely the trail wouldn't just stop, right? There had to be more.

His pace sped up a little. The angelic voice was gone, too. He felt lonely without it, even though obviously it had just been his imagination. He breathed in deep, trying to steady his worries.

So much felt odd about this, but his mouth watered, craving just one more sweet strawberry. Just one more little taste. There had to be at least one more, had to be--

Clover tripped over a protruding runestone and fell facefirst into another grassy sunlit meadow.

Just as quick, he clambered to his feet, gazing up in confusion, his mind cleared slightly at the sheer jolt.

Even though the sun was setting, this meadow was quite brightly-lit, lit in a soft, girly rosy-pink glow as if from many unseen nightlights.

And though he didn't see any more berries--and was starting to wonder why he'd let himself crave them with such a strange intensity--he wasn't alone in the clearing.

At the center of the little meadow there was a humble little stone well. Unusually for a well, however, it stood at the top of a slight slope. Clover's brow wrinkled. Was that a ley well? The loci for fey were rarely seen in the Northern Reaches a cursed land, and everyone knew where the ley wells that did exist were.

This one looked curious. The stones seemed to be etched with something--runes, maybe, just like everything else around here. But Clover wasn't really able to focus too much on that.

Especially since there was an incredibly pretty girl standing right atop the slope, her back to him, her prodigious butt sticking out slightly from beneath her short dress as she bent over the well as if to retrieve something.

She was... in his dreamy, addled state, Clover struggled to put it into words. She was beautiful. Breathtaking. Spellbinding, even. Her honey-golden curls spilled down over slim, supple shoulders, bared by the lovely, revealing pink dress she wore. Her form was incredibly curvy, all the more noticeably so for her very short stature--she was barely taller than a goblin maid.

She bent over a little further, humming softly, and her dress rose up to the point that Clover--realizing that there was nothing under that dress, nothing concealing her gorgeous, perfect bubble butt, her skin shining so beautifully in the dusky light--just couldn't help himself.

He gasped.

And as the fair maiden turned, he saw her eyes.

She blinked down at him from atop the slope, her eyes as pure a gold as honey, twin oceans of thick, molten amber. She had thick, dark lashes, and beestung lips painted a bright, hot pink. Her pretty pink dress had an almost embarrassing girliness to it, only heightened by the cute little heart-shaped blue earrings she wore. The dress had a very low-cut neckline, baring vast, enticing, flawless cleavage to seemingly encourage a shameless, wanton gaze. Her breasts almost seemed to shimmer in the evening light.

And those pretty lips parted in a graceful little 'o' shape as she looked down at him, clearly surprised. But not... quite as surprised as he felt like she should be, Clover thought with a trace of puzzlement as he stared dumbly up at her.

Then those fulsome pink lips parted in a big smile. And it was the most radiant, beautiful smile he'd ever seen, and Clover's heart gave a funny little flutter.

"Ooh, hiiii!" she cooed, swinging the pail behind her back as she twirled to face him. The pail sloshed with something that sounded thick and syrupy. She beamed. "Gosh, aren't you a cutie! What's your name?"

He stared stupidly up at her, then down at those beautiful, shining breasts, and breathed in deep of the sweet air around them. He felt oddly unsteady right now. Her voice sounded so sweet and familiar. "Um..." He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. "C-Clover, um, Miss." He flushed. He wasn't sure what to call her. 'Miss' had just seemed to pop into his head. "What, um..."