Vanillin's Tentacular Temptations

Kinks:

Fuck Yes:

Oviposition

Tentacles

Monsterfucking

Aphrodisiacs/Intox

Pred/Prey

Hypnosis

Praise

Exhibitionism

Marking

Yes:

Bondage

CNC

Impact

Soft Petplay

Degredation

Size Difference

Chastity

Free Use

Choking

Somnophilia

Sensory Deprivation

Edging

Maybe:

Overstim

Hard Petplay

Soft Vore

Dollification

Corruption

Tickling

MedFet

No:

Hard Vore

Watersports

Incest/Fauxcest

Bimbofication

Feederism

Fuck No:

Snuff

Ageplay

Zoophilia

Edge Play (knives, not edging)

Syringes

Amputee Fetish (my disability is not a fetish)

Snuff

Scat

Diapers

Misgendering

You squinted into the cold ocean breeze as you sailed onward, drops of ocean water battering against any exposed skin like frigid daggers as the ship rocked beneath you. The true brunt of the storm that brought you here was far behind you, but it's cold winds lingered far further. Most on board were huddled by the fires below deck, but you had chosen to stay up above. The cold breeze was grounding in a way: it forced you to focus on the moment, rather than lose yourself in nerves for the task ahead. 

This would not be the first great spirit whose aid you had requested, a lifetime of training at the temple had prepared you for this. Yet still, you were nervous. A Sea Spirit was a vast thing, far greater than any of the spirits you had negotiated with in the past. If it chose to, it could easily destroy you - no ward on earth could protect you from something so vast.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the clanging of a bell - marking one hour before you arrived at your destination. Nervously, you headed down below deck to don your ceremonial regalia. The process was a long and almost meditative one. A priestess carefully tied intricate patterns of ropework along your whole body, pressing the protective runestones into your flesh and making your skin tingle with arcane energy. At long last, the ropework was complete. You held your breath, and noticed as the feeling of panic never came, proof that the runes were doing their job. You gave a nod to the priestess and began to don the last of your robes, a far simpler process than the intricate ropework that came before. The intricate silken robes did little to cover your body, but it didn't matter - the runestones would protect you from the elements more effectively than any cloak could. 

The bell clanged once more, you were arriving at your destination. You took your station at the bow of the ship, breathing deeply and reciting prayers as the ship bustled around you, sails hoisted and anchor at the ready as you drew closer and closer to the shrine. From the surface it looked small - a lonely dock and a ring of chiseled stone. But the closer you got the more its true nature was revealed. The ornately carved rings extended downward into the darkness, further than the eye could see, the ring at the surface was but an entrance, marking the location of the true shrine deep below. 

At long last, the ship docked at the shrine. The water was still here, unnaturally so for how far from shore you were. Even the ripples of the ship’s movement could hardly pierce the sacred stillness of the shrine, the calm water shining like a fine gem. The bow of the ship hung just over the centre of the ring which marked the shrine’s tip. A hush fell over the crew as you walked carefully to the very tip of the ship’s bow before, with a nod from the captain, you dove into the waters below. 

Your body cut through the water like an arrow, plunging you down a few meters from momentum alone. Already you could feel the vast presence down below, a hum like whalesong that trickled into the back of your mind and made the runestones crackle like meat in a hot pan. As you swam deeper, the hum grew stronger, other frequencies joining the unearthly chorus that spilled into the corners of your mind. It felt almost as though it was probing you, feeling the shape of your mind as you swam past ring after ring.

You began to notice signs of life as you descended: tiny, colourful jellyfish which bobbed in the water like falling snow and little fish which darted between the marble pillars. The deeper you went the more you saw: eels slunk out of cracks in the ornate rings, corals, anemones, and every shellfish imaginable clung to the structure until you could hardly see the stone beneath. 

The hum grew louder still as you grew close to your destination. You could see the grand shrine beneath you now, its ornate marble dome covered in all manner of ocean life, schools of fish swimming in circles around the circular opening at the top. 

As you swam through the shrine entrance you at last spotted the source of the hum, so strong now that it took real effort to stay focused as the sound drowned out smaller thoughts. It looked like a gargantuan jellyfish, an uncountable number of frills and tendrils and siphonophore-like bulbs glowing in a bouquet of purples, reds, and blues dangling from its central body. At the heart of it was a glowing sphere, its shape shifting and morphing like a school of fish in time with the hum that pervaded your mind. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the ocean spirit you had come to speak with.

As you approached you could feel the water carry you along, until you were facing the vast spirit. It looked even larger from here; each of its tendrils - small compared to the whole - were easily the width of your arm. You tried your best to adopt a position of reverence, but beneath the water the most you could manage was to bow your head. 

You took a moment to collect your thoughts - a task not made simple by the omnipresent hum - before at last, you spoke:

“o great water spirit, I have come to this holy place to seek your aid. For months now, a violent storm has ravaged the coast of our village, making trade and fishing impossible. If we cannot sail once more, our people will soon starve” It was a plea you had long rehearsed, the words clear in your mind despite your nerves and the hypnotic harmony that filled your head “I ask that you take pity upon our plight, and quell the storm that so threatens my people. There is much which we would gladly give in return, if you would desire it.”

You felt the weight on your mind lift as the hum took shape - first into concepts, then to words:

“Your plea is heard, little offering. Though you need not speak so reverently - all are equal beneath the tide.”

You lifted your head to face the spirit, doing your best to resist the instinct to kneel before so great a presence

“I shall see that the storm is quelled, your people may sail my waters once more.” 

You felt a rush of relief, for a spirit to be so generous from the outset was a rare thing indeed.

“In return” it said “I would request a mate, it has been long since one has carried my spawn”

You were taken aback at the request - a mate? You had heard many requests, but this was a first.

“You are surprised.” The spirit said, answering you before you had the chance to speak “Is it truly so strange that I would have the instinct to breed? Such urges are a drive shared by all but the rarest of creatures - above and below - even I do not find myself exempt”

Your mind was reeling, you had heard stories of people being blessed with children by benevolent spirits, but they had never mentioned sex. “u-uhm I-” you tried to speak but you were far too flustered to form words. To mate with a spirit, something so much greater than you, the thought excited you perhaps more than it ought to.

“You are nervous.” 

The spirit spoke again, this time the hum carried a teasing tone to it that excited you all the more. 

“You need not fear little offering, I promise the process would be pleasurable for the both of us”

You could feel your cheeks flush at the thought of it. This spirit, something so great it could shatter your runestones with a thought, wanted to mate with you. The idea sent sparks of need through your mind, and you averted your gaze as you wondered how it would feel, to have sex with something so powerful, capable of controlling you so utterly. 

“Do you find this arrangement acceptable, little offering?”

You nodded vigorously, words escaping you as your mind raced with nervous excitement.

“Speak, little offering, I wish to hear your assent in words. Surely your tongue does not fail you?”

“I-I yes, I w-would be honoured” The words came out a stuttered mess, but the spirit seemed to find them acceptable. You felt as the hum grew once more, though this time it was different. It carried with it a peaceful, submissive sort of need, making your body feel limp and sensitive as it drowned out all but your most surface thoughts. You let out a slight moan as you felt the Spirit’s tendrils begin to wrap around you, caressing your sensitive skin and slipping beneath your meager robes. 

“Such a good offering. I have always been fond of the sounds your kind makes, so sweet and desperate.”

This time, the words took shape within the hum, filling your mind as utterly as it did. You moaned again as the tendrils explored you, gently squeezing and caressing every part of you. The hum filling your mind made it all the more intense, with your mind so utterly empty you could do nothing but focus on the sensations. The tendrils explored you like this for some time; it could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours, it was impossible to tell in your mind-blanked state. 

As it explored your body, the spirit whispered sweet praises and suggestions into your mind. Each word was laced with subtle power, pulling you deeper into your submissive trance. At last, you felt the spirit’s tendrils spread your legs open - it hardly took any force, you were so pliable that a gentle pressure was enough to spread your legs wide. You watched, desperate anticipation welling in what remained of your mind, as a larger tendril emerged from the centre of the mass. It snaked it’s way towards you, until it finally came to rest just above your entrance. It was covered in delicious ridges and swirling aquiform textures.

“are you ready, little offering?”

You whined your approval, mind too blank to speak, bucking your hips as best you could in invitation. You moaned wantonly as it entered you. Every bump and ridge that slid inside you made you shake with pleasure. It went beyond the physical sensation. Just the submissive joy of being filled, of being a good offering for your great spirit was pleasure enough to have you writhing. All the while the spirit continued to toy with your mind, it’s honeyed words seeping into your very being, intensifying every sensation. 

The pleasure was so intemse, you hadn’t even realized that the tendril wasn’t moving.

The first thrust nearly broke you, your eyes rolling back as it hit that perfect spot deep inside you. Then again, and again, and again. If your mind had not been blank before, this would have easily done it. Each thrust sent a moan hurtling from your lips, and it didn't take long before you were brought to a trembling climax. Yet, you did not find yourself drained. The hum filled your body as much as your mind, energizing you, keeping you as desperate and eager as you were before your first orgasm. 

You repeated this cycle a few times more, coming to orgasm after orgasm, only for the hum to reinvigorate your need once more. Suddenly, however, just as you teetered on the edge of another glorious peak, the tendril stopped. You let out a dissapointed whine, when suddenly, with a deep pulse, it thrusted into you as deep as your body would allow. You watched, tears of submissive joy in your eyes, as glowing bulges, like smaller versions of the spirit’s core, worked their way up the tendril deep inside you. 

As soon as the first one entered you, you were cumming like you never had before. The hum grew to a glorious chord, an orgasm all to itself that made each peak all the more intense. Then another pushed it’s way in, and another, and another. You cried out in pleasure until your voice went hoarse, a wordless hymn in praise to your great spirit, to the endless pleasure it could provide. 

At last, the hum began to die down as the last of the eggs pushed it’s way into you. Carefully, the tendril pulled out of you, and this time, the hum would at last leave you feeling satisfied. It felt strange to have your thoughts return to you, your mind slowly taking shaoe once more as the hum retreated to a gentle, restful tone. The spirits tendrils shifted to gently cradle you, rubbing the soreness from your well-used limbs. You looked down at your swollen belly and smiled, you had done well.

“are you comfortable?”

You nodded your assent, between the gentle hum, and the caring touch of the spirit’s tendrils, you were perhaos more comfortable than you had ever been.

“very good. I will send a messenger to your people up above to inform them of your safety. As for you, my little offering, I think I would like for you to stay a while, if you would permit it”

The warm orange glow of the tavern’s lights glistened on the surface of your drink as you sat in the corner of the bar. When you had left your house that night you would’ve done damn near anything if it meant not being sober; but now, having had the whole long walk here for that ache in the back of your mind to fade, you had hardly touched your drink. Still, you took small sips once and a while - if for no other reason than to wash the taste of that night’s draught out of your mouth.

“Bullroot Extract” it had been called, a cure for incontinent husbands and boys born of the wrong sex. The stuff was a closely-guarded secret, spoken of in reverent whispers by those whom it had aided. It tasted foul as sin, but it had proved effective thus far - already your skin had turned rougher, and the starts of stubble were begging to poke through on your upper lip.

The changes were welcome to be sure, but nowhere near enough to silence the agonizing bouts of dysphoria that came in the lonely hours of the evening, when even the sun could not keep you company.

It was one of these that had brought you to your local tavern. Alcohol was a poor excuse for a treatment, but if nothing else you needed the company. You were just about to take another sip when a snippet of conversation caught your attention.

“… It’s like I said, you talk to anyone down by those mountains and they’ll tell you - the elixir's hidden deep in the caverns, up top those ol’ rocks” It was a deep voice, not one you’d heard around here before - adventurers, if you had to guess.

“What, the elixir of life? And lemme guess, they’ll sell it to ya for only a copper?” another chortled, the group laughing boisterously in response.

“you know I wouldn’t chase an old wives tale like that” scoffed the storyteller, roughly elbowing his companion “this here’s the Sweet Nectar. Stuff of fairies, or so they say, s’posed to give you the body of your dreams if the legends are true!”

“As if!” another drunkenly laughed “whawuddat do t’ ya anyhoo? Grow yer balls t’ the size uvva pumpkin?” The group’s banter continued on like this, the drunken chatter fading back into the background once more as you finished your drink.

After that, the idea kept creeping up in the back of your mind. What if this “Sweet Nectar” really did exist? It could mean an end to the dysphoria, an end to keeping your true self behind closed doors, an end to drinking that godawful brew every night. You laughed the thought off - the only fey you knew of were tricksters at best. They were handsome to be sure, but you doubted that gift was something they’d so readily share.

Despite that, you just couldn’t shake the thought, what if it really was out there? The idea became more and more enticing as time went on, the promise of a better life that the nectar offered too tantalizing to ignore. It was this nagging thought that brought you to the local library a few days later. It was a grand building, a monument to an opulence long faded from the small valley town it stands in, carved mahogony scratched and warped, brass turned grey by years of patina. Still, the knowledge kept within was as valuable as the day it was erected.

After a short conversation with the librarian - a thin, nervous man who always looked as though he hadn’t gotten quite enough sleep - you were given a couple tomes to leaf through. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for, a short book of local myths and legends with a complete description of the Sweet Nectar:

“The Sweet Nectar or Faeries Nectar is a legendary artifact said to reside somewhere in the caverns beneath the savarello mountain. It is said to grant to the drinker their ideal body, a possible explanation for the enchanting figures of the fae…”

This was perfect, you knew where the Savarello mountains were, they were only a day's trek from here. Immediately your mind began racing with the possibilities. You had long convinced yourself this was a good idea, rationalizing away every doubt that bubbled into your mind, now you had to find it.

That night you packed everything you would need for the journey, cramming all of it into an old leather backpack until you were finally ready. That night you slept restlessly, drifting between dreams and daydreams of what you would look like once you drank that elixir, how your voice would sound, how it would feel.

You woke with a start at the first light, leaping out of bed with far more energy than your meager sleep should have granted. For the first time since you could remember, you had something to really hope for, and you were going to chase it.

You made the trek to the mountain’s base with a spring in your step, making only brief stops along the well-trodden road for food and drink. Your enthusiasm died down as the evening came, doubts creeping in to fill the space the sunlight left - how would you even find the cave? Folk tales rarely included maps. Even if you did find the cave, how would you navigate it?

Your energy waning, you decided to rest for the night in the small town at the mountain’s base. The inn was a ragged old thing, the windows were gray with years of soot and grime, and the chain holding up the sign was more rust than metal. Despite that, as soon as you walked in the sound of revelry and the smell of ale hit you like a wall. The liveliness was refreshing, but you needed to conserve your energy for the trek ahead. You quickly paid for your stay, and headed up towards your room.

You were just about to turn the corner to the relatively quiet hall of rooms when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you saw a gorgeous woman, long curly hair and soft, clear skin, her green eyes sparkling like broken glass in the dim light. She looked out of place amongst the crowd of farmhands and adventurers, a fact not helped by her belly - she looked to be at least 6 months pregnant, probably more. “she’s probably the innkeeper's daughter” you thought to yourself.

“Hi there!” She said, her voice clear and unusually chipper for the hour “You don’t look like a local, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I'm just passing through” you said, trying and failing to match her enthusiasm

“Oh!” She said “You wouldn’t be searching for the Sweet Nectar, would you?”

“y-yeah” you said, taken aback at the forwardness of her question, was it that obvious? “I doubt I’ll find it though, I don’t even know where to start looking”

“oh that’s easy!” She said, “The cave is just by the lake south of here, I don’t think anyone’s ever gone in very far though!”

“th-thanks” you stuttered, her cheerful demeanor was starting to creep you out, why was she telling you this? “Guess I’ll look there then!”

Before she could say another word you had already hurried into your room, something about that woman just didn’t sit right, why was she so cheerful? How did she know you were looking for the Nectar? You set those thoughts aside for the moment, right now you needed rest - tomorrow was a big day after all.

You woke feeling well-rested, not quite the manic energy of the day before, but you were still filled with anticipation. If you were going to find the Nectar, it would be today. You would finally be the man you always wanted to be.

The trek up to the lake was far more difficult than that of the day before. The trail was rough and steep, more of a deer trail than a true path at times. Nonetheless you carried on, all of it would be worth it when you got that nectar.

You were so focused on the path forward that you didn’t notice the signs of fey influence at first, but as you carried on it became more and more obvious - plants curling and twisting in bizarre ways, the needles of the pines turning from green to vibrant blue. You knew the danger, but you couldn’t help but feel more hope than trepidation, this meant it had to be here.

At last, you arrived at the cave entrance. The lake just behind you would’ve been the perfect place for a rest, but rest was the furthest thing from your mind right now - not when you were this close. You took a brief moment to light your lantern before heading straight into the cave, your hurried footsteps echoing throughout the vast tunnel. Your restless pace was quickly slowed by the terrain. The passage grew smaller and the walls damper the further you went, slowing your pace to a crawl as you struggled to stay upright. The air grew warm and humid as you went deeper still, and you began to see patches of moss on the cave floor.

The cave went on like this for what felt like hours, strange flowers and twisting vines joining the moss until they covered the stone like plush, verdant skin. You swear you saw some of the larger vines twitch as you walked past. Finally, just as your legs were beginning to ache from the long journey, you saw it.

Just a few meters ahead the cave opened up into a verdant grove, strange blooms speckling the ground with dots of vibrant colour, light trickling in from somewhere out of sight. There, in the center of it all was a gargantuan bloom; it’s silky petals, each more than twice your size, spread out invitingly like a carpet, highlighting the pods of glistening golden ichor hanging from it’s stylets. This had to be it - the Sweet Nectar of legend.

You savoured the moment as you approached the bloom, the air was thick with a floral scent that made your skin flush and your mind fog, effects you chocked up to exhaustion. Slowly and surely, you walked across the thick petals. This was finally it, all you had to do was reach out and-

scrack!

A sharp, wet, snapping sound, the ill-tempered child of a whip's crack and the snapping of a branch rang out through the cavern. Before your mind could even open the memo that danger was afoot - let alone read it - the thick petals had closed around you, trapping you in a prison of slick violet foliage. In an instant your joy was replaced with sharp, animalistic panic. You clawed and punched desperately at the soft yet unyielding walls of your newfound prison, but all you got for your efforts was a bruised knuckle and a rapidly growing feeling of doom.

It was then that you heard a hissing sound. You looked up and saw the precious bulbs shrinking, the liquid within spraying out into the air as a fine mist. It couldn’t even occur to you to hold your breath, as soon as the scent hit you any thought in your mind was annihilated by the deepest, most desperate need you had ever felt. Your skin was hot and sensitive, the warm air around you suddenly felt cold and cruel as the spurning of a longtime lover. You needed to be touched, to be fucked, to be bred - each breath turned you into more and more of a dripping, panting mess - a wet stain beginning to form on the crotch of your pants.

You began to strip as quickly as you could, desperate to sate the burning crimson need that had enveloped you. Your desperate task was quickly interrupted by a movement in the corner of your vision. You watched as thick vines, easily the size of your arm snaked out from the base of the plant’s pistil. You watched as they began to move towards you in deliberate, almost sensual motions. You knew you should've been terrified, as any rational observer would be - instead, you were ecstatic.

You let out a lascivious moan as the tendrils began to snake their way up your body, tearing off your clothes as they went. With your body like this, even the slightest touch felt incredible. You shuddered with need as they worked their way up your chest, brushing deliciously over your nipples. Resistance didn’t even occur to you, not when your body was a bonfire of need, not when every touch felt so good.

You let out a desperate whine as the vines began to tease your most sensitive areas, leaving the gentlest, most teasing of touches on your folds and around your tdick. You tried to grind against them, to get any kind of friction, but the tendrils weren’t having it. They tightened around you, locking your body in place as your whines turned to all-out cries, begging for to be touched, to be filled, something.

After what felt like an eternity of torturously gentle teasing, you pleas were finally answered. You shuddered as you felt a thin, slick vine rubbing at your hole before finally, deliciously, it slipped in. The moment you felt the tendril rub against your g-spot you were seeing stars, your mouth agape and hole fluttering as you came to your first of what would be many mind-shattering orgasms.

The vines didn’t stop - and you wouldn’t have wanted them to. Your body was still aflame with need despite your orgasm, and the feeling of finally being filled was like no other. You moaned and thrashed uselessly as the vines had their way with you. Every thrust had you crying out for more, and the vines obliged, two wrapped around your nipples, and another began rubbing your tdick in delicious circles. The onslaught of pleasure was unbelievably intense, it only took seconds before you were already about to-

And then they stopped.

You cried out in desperation at the sudden lack of sensation as the tendril that had been fucking you pulled out, tugging futilely at the vines restraining you as you cried out half-formed pleas. Your squirming stopped when you saw something snaking it’s way out of the plant’s tall pistil. It was another one of the tendrils, but this one was thicker than the others, and covered in thick ridges. It’s head was distinctly phallic as well, a large opening in the center dripping with thick, golden fluid.

You moaned at the very sight of it. This was exactly what you needed, you just knew it, nothing else could possibly satisfy you in this moment. It slipped inside you, stretching you to your absolute limits as it began to thrust. The other tentacles redoubled their efforts, and it wasn’t long before you were brought to another shuddering orgasm. It kept going. Every thrust felt divine, you could feel the ridges popping in and out, the sheer girth of it crushing against your cum button every time, and every little spurt of that golden liquid that it gave made your head swim. And then you saw them.

Bulges, thick, glowing bulges were travelling through the tentacle inside you. This thing was going to fill you with it’s seeds. Panic set in for a brief moment, but was quickly silenced by another spurt of the golden nectar. You wanted this, no - needed this. You shuddered and squirmed with anticipation as the seeds crept towards you, until finally…

Pop

The feeling of it pushing inside you was rapturous. It should've hurt, but the ichor meant that all of it registered as more pleasure as your vision went white. You came, a shaking, moaning, tidal wave of an orgasm that didn’t even have time to finish before…

Pop

Another slid in. Somehow, it felt better than the first. You came once again as it pushed deliciously past your g-spot, your whole body shaking as…

Pop

Your tdick was so hard it hurt. Your legs slick with the mixed juices of you and this divine plant. Any attempt at coherent thought is shattered by another orgasm when…

Pop

You don’t know how much more of this your mind can take. You’re covered in your own drool, barely anything more than a mindless fucktoy. Your whole body shaking every time it…

Pop

You never want it to end. You’re a shaking broken mess and all you want is more. It feels incredible. Your belly is stretching to accommodate all the seeds and you feel so full it’s like you're going to…

Pop

And finally, it stops. The tendrils gently lower you to the ground as darkness begins to creep in at the edges of your vision. You mutter something vaguely adjacent to thanks before you drift into an exhausted sleep.

You awaken at the entrance of the cave, the calm lake rippling gently in the morning breeze. For a moment, you think it must have all been an exhausted dream, but one look down at your swollen belly is enough to prove otherwise. Half-panicked you look at your reflection in the water, hoping to take stock of the damages. What you see brings tears of joy to your eyes.

The warm orange glow of the tavern’s lights glistened on the surface of your drink as you sat in the corner of the bar. When you had left your house that night you would’ve done damn near anything if it meant not being sober; but now, having had the whole long walk here for that ache in the back of your mind to fade, you had hardly touched your drink. Still, you took small sips once in a while - if for no other reason than to wash the taste of that night’s draught out of your mouth.

“Mare’s essence” it had been called, a cure for barren wives and girls born of the wrong sex. The stuff was a closely-guarded secret, spoken of in reverent whispers by those whom it had aided. It tasted foul as sin, but it had proved effective thus far - already your skin had turned softer and your breasts grown tender.

The changes were welcome to be sure, but nowhere near enough to silence the agonizing bouts of dysphoria that came in the lonely hours of the evening, when even the sun could not keep you company.

It was one of these that had brought you to your local tavern. Alcohol was a poor excuse for a treatment, but if nothing else you needed the company. You were just about to take another sip when a snippet of conversation caught your attention.

“… It’s like I said, you talk to anyone down by those mountains and they’ll tell you - the elixir's hidden deep in the caverns, up top those ol’ rocks” It was a deep voice, not one you’d heard around here before - adventurers, if you had to guess.

“What, the elixir of life? And lemme guess, they’ll sell it to ya for only a copper?” another chortled, the group laughing boisterously in response.

“you know I wouldn’t chase an old wives tale like that” scoffed the storyteller, roughly elbowing his companion “this here’s the Sweet Nectar. Stuff of fairies, or so they say, s’posed to give you the body of your dreams if the legends are true!”

“As if!” another drunkenly laughed “whawuddat do t’ ya anyhoo? Grow yer balls t’ the size uvva pumpkin?” The group’s banter continued on like this, the drunken chatter fading back into the background once more as you finished your drink.

After that, the idea kept creeping up in the back of your mind. What if this “Sweet Nectar” really did exist? It could mean an end to the dysphoria, an end to keeping your true self behind closed doors, an end to drinking that godawful brew every night. You laughed the thought off - the only fey you knew of were tricksters at best. They were beautiful to be sure, but you doubted that beauty was something they’d so readily share.

Despite that, you just couldn’t shake the thought, what if it really was out there? The idea became more and more enticing as time went on, the promise of a better life that the nectar offered too tantalizing to ignore. It was this nagging thought that brought you to the local library a few days later. It was a grand building, a monument to an opulence long faded from the small valley town it stands in, carved mahogony scratched and warped, brass turned grey by years of patina. Still, the knowledge kept within was as valuable as the day it was erected.

After a short conversation with the librarian - a thin, nervous man who always looked as though he hadn’t gotten quite enough sleep - you were given a couple tomes to leaf through. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for, a short book of local myths and legends with a complete description of the Sweet Nectar:

“The Sweet Nectar or Faeries Nectar is a legendary artifact said to reside somewhere in the caverns beneath the savarello mountain. It is said to grant to the drinker their ideal body, a possible explanation for the enchanting figures of the fae…”

This was perfect, you knew where the Savarello mountains were, they were only a day's trek from here. Immediately your mind began racing with the possibilities. You had long convinced yourself this was a good idea, rationalizing away every doubt that bubbled into your mind, now you had to find it.

That night you packed everything you would need for the journey, cramming all of it into an old leather backpack until you were finally ready. That night you slept restlessly, drifting between dreams and daydreams of what you would look like once you drank that elixir, how your voice would sound, how it would feel.

You woke with a start at the first light, leaping out of bed with far more energy than your meager sleep should have granted. For the first time since you could remember, you had something to really hope for, and you were going to chase it.

You made the trek to the mountain’s base with a spring in your step, making only brief stops along the well-trodden road for food and drink. Your enthusiasm died down as the evening came, doubts creeping in to fill the space the sunlight left - how would you even find the cave? Folk tales rarely included maps. Even if you did find the cave, how would you navigate it?

Your energy waning, you decided to rest for the night in the small town at the mountain’s base. The inn was a ragged old thing, the windows were gray with years of soot and grime, and the chain holding up the sign was more rust than metal. Despite that, as soon as you walked in the sound of revelry and the smell of ale hit you like a wall. The liveliness was refreshing, but you needed to conserve your energy for the trek ahead. You quickly paid for your stay, and headed up towards your room.

You were just about to turn the corner to the relatively quiet hall of rooms when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you saw a gorgeous woman, long curly hair and soft, clear skin, her green eyes sparkling like broken glass in the dim light. She looked out of place amongst the crowd of farmhands and adventurers, a fact not helped by her belly - she looked to be at least 6 months pregnant, probably more. “she’s probably the innkeeper's daughter” you thought to yourself.

“Hi there!” She said, her voice clear and unusually chipper for the hour “You don’t look like a local, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I'm just passing through” you said, trying and failing to match her enthusiasm

“Oh!” She said “You wouldn’t be searching for the Sweet Nectar, would you?”

“y-yeah” you said, taken aback at the forwardness of her question, was it that obvious? “I doubt I’ll find it though, I don’t even know where to start looking”

“oh that’s easy!” She said, “The cave is just by the lake south of here, I don’t think anyone’s ever gone in very far though!”

“th-thanks” you stuttered, her cheerful demeanor was starting to creep you out, why was she telling you this? “Guess I’ll look there then!”

Before she could say another word you had already hurried into your room, something about that woman just didn’t sit right, why was she so cheerful? How did she know you were looking for the Nectar? You set those thoughts aside for the moment, right now you needed rest - tomorrow was a big day after all.

You woke feeling well-rested, not quite the manic energy of the day before, but you were still filled with anticipation. If you were going to find the Nectar, it would be today. You would finally be the woman you always wanted to be.

The trek up to the lake was far more difficult than that of the day before. The trail was rough and steep, more of a deer trail than a true path at times. Nonetheless you carried on, all of it would be worth it when you got that nectar.

You were so focused on the path forward that you didn’t notice the signs of fey influence at first, but as you carried on it became more and more obvious - plants curling and twisting in bizarre ways, the needles of the pines turning from green to vibrant blue. You knew the danger, but you couldn’t help but feel more hope than trepidation, this meant it had to be here.

At last, you arrived at the cave entrance. The lake just behind you would’ve been the perfect place for a rest, but rest was the furthest thing from your mind right now - not when you were this close. You took a brief moment to light your lantern before heading straight into the cave, your hurried footsteps echoing throughout the vast tunnel. Your restless pace was quickly slowed by the terrain. The passage grew smaller and the walls damper the further you went, skowing your pace to a crawl as you struggled to stay upright. The air grew warm and humid as you went deeper still, and you began to see patches of moss on the cave floor.

The cave went on like this for what felt like hours, strange flowers and twisting vines joining the moss until they covered the stone like plush, verdant skin. You swear you saw some of the larger vines twitch as you walked past. Finally, just as your legs were beginning to ache from the long journey, you saw it.

Just a few meters ahead the cave opened up into a verdant grove, strange blooms speckling the ground with dots of vibrant colour, light trickling in from somewhere out of sight. There, in the center of it all was a gargantuan bloom; it’s silky petals, each more than twice your size, spread out invitingly like a carpet, highlighting the pods of glistening golden ichor hanging from it’s stylets. This had to be it - the Sweet Nectar of legend.

You savoured the moment as you approached the bloom, the air was thick with a floral scent that made your skin flush and your mind fog, effects you chocked up to exhaustion. Slowly and surely, you walked across the thick petals. This was finally it, all you had to do was reach out and-

scrack!

A sharp, wet, snapping sound, the ill-tempered child of a whip's crack and the snapping of a branch rang out through the cavern. Before your mind could even open the memo that danger was afoot - let alone read it - the thick petals had closed around you, trapping you in a prison of slick violet foliage. In an instant your joy was replaced with sharp, animalistic panic. You clawed and punched desperately at the soft yet unyielding walls of your newfound prison, but all you got for your efforts was a bruised knuckle and a rapidly growing feeling of doom.

It was then that you heard a hissing sound. You looked up and saw the precious bulbs shrinking, the liquid within spraying out into the air as a fine mist. It couldn’t even occur to you to hold your breath, as soon as the scent hit you any thought in your mind was annihilated by the deepest, most desperate need you had ever felt. Your skin was hot and sensitive, the warm air around you suddenly felt cold and cruel as the spurning of a longtime lover. You needed to be touched, to be fucked, to be bred - each breath turned you into more and more of a leaky, panting mess - your gock straining desperately against your pants.

You began to strip as quickly as you could, desperate to sate the burning crimson need that had enveloped you. Your desperate task was quickly interrupted by a movement in the corner of your vision. You watched as thick vines, easily the size of your arm snaked out from the base of the plant’s pistil. You watched as they began to move towards you in deliberate, almost sensual motions. You knew you should've been terrified, as any rational observer would be - instead, you were ecstatic.

You let out a lascivious moan as the tendrils began to snake their way up your body, tearing off your clothes as they went. With your body like this, even the slightest touch felt incredible. You shuddered with need as they worked their way uo your chest, brushing deliciously over your sensitive nipples. Resistance didn’t even occur to you, not when your body was a bonfire of need, not when every touch felt so good.

You let out a desperate whine as the vines began to tease your most sensitive areas, leaving the gentlest, most teasing of touches at the base of your gock and around your hole. You tried to hump against them, to get any kind of friction, but the tendrils weren’t having it. They tightened around you, locking your body in place as your whines turned to all-out cries, begging for to be touched, to be filled, something.

After what felt like an eternity of torturously gentle teasing, you pleas were finally answered. You shuddered as you felt a thin, slick vine rubbing at your hole before finally, deliciously, it slipped in. The moment you felt the tendril rub against your prostate you were seeing stars, your mouth agape and gock leaking like an icicle in the spring sun as you came to your first of what would be many mind-shattering orgasms.

The vines didn’t stop - and you wouldn’t have wanted them to. Your body was still aflame with need despite your orgasm, and the feeling of finally being filled was like no other. You moaned and thrashed uselessly as the vines had their way with you. Every thrust had you crying out for more, and the vines obliged, two wrapped around your sensitive nipples, another around your gock. The onslaught of pleasure was unbelievably intense, it only took seconds before you were already about to-

And then they stopped.

You cried out in desperation at the sudden lack of sensation as the tendril that had been fucking you pulled out, tugging futilely at the vines restraining you as you cried out half-formed pleas. Your squirming stopped when you saw something snaking it’s way out of the plant’s tall pistil. It was another one of the tendrils, but this one was thicker than the others, and covered in thick ridges. It’s head was distinctly phallac as well, a large opening in the center dripping with thick, golden fluid.

You moaned at the very sight of it. This was exactly what you needed, you just knew it, nothing else could possibly satisfy you in this moment. It slipped inside you, stretching you to your absolute limits as it began to thrust. The other tentacles redoubled their efforts, and it wasn’t long before you were brought to another shuddering orgasm. It kept going. Every thrust felt divine, you could feel the ridges popping in and out, the sheer girth of it crushing against your cum button every time, and every little spurt of that golden liquid that it gave made your head swim. And then you saw them.

Bulges, thick, glowing bulges were travelling through the tentacle inside you. This thing was going to fill you with it’s seeds. Panic set in for a brief moment, but was quickly silenced by another spurt of the golden nectar. You wanted this, no - needed this. You shuddered and squirmed with anticipation as the seeds crept towards you, until finally…

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The feeling of it pushing inside you was rapturous. It should've hurt, but the ichor meant that all of it registered as more pleasure as your vision went white. You came, a shaking, moaning, tidal wave of an orgasm that didn’t even have time to finish before…

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Another slid in. Somehow, it felt better than the first. You came once again as it pushed deliciously past your prostate, your whole body shaking as…

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Your gock is twitching uselessly now. The constant pleasure too much for it to keep up with. Any attempt at coherent thought is shattered by another orgasm when…

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You don’t know how much more of this your mind can take. You’re covered in your own drool, barely anything more than a mindless fucktoy. Your whole body shaking every time it…

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You never want it to end. You’re a shaking broken mess and all you want is more. It feels incredible. Your belly is stretching to accommodate all the seeds and you feel so full it’s like you're going to…

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And finally, it stops. The tendrils gently lower you to the ground as darkness begins to creep in at the edges of your vision. You mutter something vaguely adjacent to thanks before you drift into an exhausted sleep.

You awaken at the entrance of the cave, the calm lake rippling gently in the morning breeze. For a moment, you think it must have all been an exhausted dream, but one look down at your swollen belly is enough to prove otherwise. Half-panicked you look at your reflection in the water, hoping to take stock of the damages. What you see brings tears of joy to your eyes.