excerpt from the Athendroyln After Dark Anthology by Annika Sage Ellis

Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast

Tips are appreciated!

Contains: satyr/centaur, trans4trans, size difference kink, size queen kink, fingering, handjobs, oral sex, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, nipple play, teasing, begging, praise, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism

Dysphoria warning: There is a trans man and a trans woman in this short story. The trans man’s genitals are referred to with these words: t-dick, ”little cock”, cunt, hole, folds, cervix. The trans woman’s genitals are referred to with these words: cock, dick, balls, shaft, head. Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria.

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Harlan sat at the only open table at this entire party, if he had to guess, watching his frat brother’s backyard get absolutely trashed. It wasn’t his first one by any stretch, but it was one of his first times sitting on the sidelines of any party he was invited to, abstaining from his classmates’ vices. And boy, were there a lot of vices.

Getting a spot by the pool gave him a great angle of the debauchery taking place. He spotted four different couples and at least one threesome splashing around, and taking advantage of the satyr-heavy population’s lack of social modesty. It didn’t stop anyone from jumping into the water, to cheer them on or join the action themselves. Plenty of party-goers were making use of the wide array of potions provided at what passed for a bar. Even more were mixing it with mundane alcohol to create a new and exciting hangover tomorrow. The speakers were inside the house, but the sliding glass doors were wide open to let every note thump out into the yard. And it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

He wasn’t quite wistful, but Harlan did have to catch himself every time he thought about getting a hit of whatever they were brewing inside. There was a reason he planted his cloven hooves outside, where there was relatively more space, and wasn’t nearly as crowded as the dance floor inside. And it was worth it to hold off today—for her sake.

He checked his phone again, just to make sure he hasn’t missed a message. His last text was from half an hour ago. Harlan tugged his short beard, a bit nervous. She was late.

“Harlan, dude, there you are!”

He looked up to see two of his frat brothers, Jet and Darus, trotting closer, dodging other partiers on their way. Darus held a vial of something purple and shimmery over his head so he wouldn’t spill it. Not that it would have mattered, since his auburn and white patched fur was already matted down with something. Jet was clean—his solid white legs would have made it very obvious—but Harlan was almost positive he had a shirt on when they got here. Neither of them looked wasted, but it was only a matter of time.

“Dude,” Jet said, grabbing his shoulder, “Chaq is inside and he’s about to dunk his head in the entire cauldron of the potion of lunacy, you’ve gotta come see.”

“It’s gonna be so sick,” Darus added, white forelock dangling past his horns into his face.

“Tempting,” Harlan said, and it did sound hilarious, “but I’m gonna stick around here, you guys go ahead.”

Jet shoved him a little. “What’s with you, man? Have you even gotten in the pool or anything?"

"I’m binding today.” Harlan opened one side of his yellow button-down, revealing the peach-colored enchanted binder underneath. “Sooo, no, I haven’t.”

Darus handed him the shimmery vial. “At least have a drink.”

He shoved it away. “I’m waiting until Yvonne gets here, I told you. I want to make sure she’s comfortable before I get trashed.”

They gave each other a look. “Yeah,” Darus said. “About that. She’s not here.”

“She said she was running late. She had to get her shoes changed today and there was a line or something.”

Jet sighed and folded his arms. “I don’t want to be an asshole, but—”

Harlan put his face in his hands, flattening his ears against his head. “Not this again, you’re killing me.”

“It’s a little suspicious!”

“Don’t fucking do this to me, Jet.”

“Like, come on, how long have you been together and we’ve never even seen a picture of her.”

He popped up, indignant. “She asked me not to! What, should I just ignore what she’s comfortable with?”

“Obviously not,” Darus said, “but what kind of centaur—what kind of Clydesdale isn’t cool with that?”

“He’s got a point,” Jet agreed.

Harlan swerved around his corkscrew horns to run his fingers through his auburn hair. He contemplated ripping it out. “Look, guys. She’s shy. I’ve told you that a hundred times. We’ve been talking about it, and she’s going to be here, today, because she said she felt ready.”

“Sure, sure. But she’s late.”

“Do you guys really think I would pretend to have a girlfriend for this long? Just to—to, what, make you think I have a girlfriend?”

They looked at each other again.

“I mean, kinda.”

“Yeah, it’s not that hard to imagine.”

Harlan was this close to headbutting them both. “Go fuck yourselves, like actually.”

They both laughed at his expense, and Darus took one of the empty chairs for himself. “There’s no shame in admitting it! I couldn’t pull a centaur, Jet definitely can’t pull a centaur—”

Jet pouted. “Rude.”

“—so you have nothing to fear! We’re all in this together.”

But Harlan wasn’t listening, staring right over his head. A grin slowly spread across his face, and he rose with triumph out of his seat. Jet caught on first, and smacked Darus’ arm to get him to turn around. Both were at risk of their eyes popping out of their skulls.

Squeezing through the open glass doors, Yvonne made her way into the yard, a Clydesdale centaur with a beautiful bay and tobiano pattern. The white marks on her legs nearly reached the splash of white on her horse belly. The same pattern continued on her hands up to her elbows, before meeting the rest of her warm brown skin. Her long black hair was done in goddess braids, with one forelock a shock of white, and her tail swung in one thick braid. She glanced around, clearly anxious, until Harlan raised his hand to wave. She brightened and waved back.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents,” Harlan said, letting his satisfaction drip off every word while his friends picked their jaws up off the floor. He trotted off to meet Yvonne with a skip in his step.

That kind of petty revenge was short lived, though. The closer he got to Yvonne, the less he cared about showing up his friends, and the more he cared about being with her. Harlan weaved in and out of partiers, hopped over chairs, and interrupted a few make-outs on his way.

“Hey, you made it,” he greeted, as soon as she was in earshot.

“Hi,” Yvonne replied, pawing the ground with one of her hooves. “I’m sorry I’m so late, there’s not usually a wait at my farrier’s place.”

“Forget about it, you’re here now.”

She shyly tucked a braid behind her ear and shrugged. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“When am I not sure, baby?”

Yvonne bit her lip in that way he loved, and stretched her arms down toward him. He took her hands and beamed up at her and… sort of forgot what he was doing. The most coherent thought he had was that the dress draped across her human half matched her saddlebags, both a bright, dandelion yellow with little white flowers. If anyone was behind him, they would have seen his short, feathery tail wagging.

“You’re wearing the new dress,” he said.

“Is it okay?” She turned to look over her withers at the saddlebags. “I remember you said satyr couples wear the same color, so I made sure I put this one today.”

“It’s perfect. You look beautiful.”

Yvonne nodded a bit stiffly, taking a heavy breath out. Harlan squeezed her hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She glanced around. “It’s loud. And crowded.”

“This is as good as it’s gonna get. Are you sure you want to stay?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled again, but this time, it was determined. “Yes. I can do this.”

“That’s my girl.”

Harlan tugged her arms—because he couldn’t get anywhere near her face, even on the very tips of his hooves—and she bent down for a kiss, in more ways than one. Yvonna knelt on her front two legs to get close enough to cup his face, and he held her as close as their angle would allow. When they parted, he traced the white blaze that ran up the bridge of her nose.

“Do you want to meet the guys?” he asked. “They were just over there sitting with me.”

“Sure, okay.”

Harlan led the way back to their table, but didn’t have to weave his way through the crowd this time. Instead, the party-goers parted for them, as Yvonne handed out soft apologies to everyone who stumbled back in surprise. He wished she wouldn’t—but that was a hurdle to overcome another time.

Jet and Darus were exactly where he’d left them, muttering to each other with their ears tilted unsubtly in their direction. Harlan cleared his throat and they both jumped.

“Boys,” he said, gesturing up, “this is Yvonne, she was able to make it after all. Yvonne, this is Jet and Darus.” He pointed to each of them in turn.

“Hi,” Yvonne said, with a little wave. “It’s so nice to finally meet you both, but I am a little embarrassed it’s taken this long.” Before Harlan could comfort her, both Jet and Darus spluttered their own consolations.

“Psssh, it’s whatever!”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it, it’s cool.” Jet gestured vaguely at Harlan. “Harlan, he’s like—he never shuts up about you, so—”

“Yeah, seriously,” Darus interrupted, “so we’re both excited, too! That you made it!”

Harlan relished his petty revenge again, unsure if he’d ever seen either of them so off balance. He avoided complaining to Yvonne that his friends didn’t think she existed, because he knew it would make her feel terrible, and he stood by that decision. Her feelings were more important than his ego. Watching them scramble was merely an added bonus.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he offered to Yvonne. “There’s a lot of space back here.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, kicking the grass a little. “As long as you all don’t mind staying outside? I don’t think I’d fit anywhere in the house.”

“Relax,” Harlan said, before his friends could fumble their way into doing it for him. “It’s a nice day, and we’re all out here anyway.”

“Yeah, I love being outside,” Jet lied.

“Nothing cool happens inside anyway,” Darus agreed, also lying.

A short distance away, one of the adventurous folks in the pool had a screaming orgasm. All four of them instinctively whipped around, and saw a naiad with another satyr literally drowning between her pussy. She lifted a shaky, watery hand and mouthed Sorry! They waved back to accept her apology, laughing to break the tension.

“Oh my,” Yvonna breathed, looking away with a hand on her chest.

“Like I said,” Harlan continued, “this is where the party’s at.”

He handed the chair he’d been sitting in to Jet to make room for Yvonne to sit down in the grass. She buckled all four of her legs, tucking her two front hooves underneath her and resting on one hip. At this height, Harlan was just tall enough to rest his head on her bicep—and he did, being careful not to poke her with his horns.

“May I?” he asked.

“Go ahead!” she replied, and waved him on.

Harlan hopped up to sit on her withers, where he was now tall enough to put his chin on her shoulder. Jet and Darus had gotten over being shocked and skipped right to exchanging impressed glances, but it didn’t dampen his mood any. He casually folded his arms around her waist, but froze when she sat up a little straighter.

“Too much?” he asked, ready to pull back.

“N-no, it’s fine,” she insisted, patting his arms to keep them where they were. He kept them there, but decided to keep one ear up for any changes.

“So, I hope this isn’t weird,” Jet said, and Harlan braced himself, “but I’ve never actually seen a Clydesdale before—I mean, I’ve barely seen any centaurs, period. Are you from here, or…?”

“Oh, no, my herd is from way up north, near the mountains,” Yvonne replied. “I’ve only been in Athendrolyn for a couple years.”

“Wow, that’s far. Why’d you move?”

“Well, it’s a lot harder to transition when you’re constantly moving around, and the herd physician has to split resources between thirty other people, so—” She shrugged to finish the statement. “Here I am instead.”

Darus snapped his fingers. “Oh, right because you two met at the clinic, right?”

“Yep!” She squished her cheek into Harlan’s face, and he returned the favor.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Harlan said.

“Why wouldn’t I remember that?”

“Because you’re also the guy who asked why I never told you about ‘my sister’ when I showed you old family photos.”

“Ha!” Jet smacked his arm. “I remember that!”

“One time!” Darus wagged an angry finger. “Literally once!”

“You didn’t tell me that story,” Yvonne said, stifling her own laughter.

“Please don’t tell her that story.”

“Too late!” Harlan declared. “We’re telling the story!”

He took a few minutes to embarrass his friend, but from there, they had plenty more to talk about. Fraternity hijinks, horror stories from their classes, how much they were dreading exam season. Yvonne listened politely, as always, and even bonded with Darus over their matching forelocks, but every so often Harlan felt her shift uncomfortably. He tried to slyly ask her if she needed anything when they had a lapse in conversation. She insisted she was fine, but he had a feeling something was up.

It was her first time at a big party, after all. Harlan believed her when she said she wanted to be here, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if her social anxiety was killing the mood. She frequently glanced around at the rest of the outdoor partygoers, especially the horny ones splashing around in the pool. Harlan had been to so many of these that the sexual cacophony was more or less ambient noise he could tune out, but for Yvonne? Not so much.

He was just on the cusp of asking her outright if anything was wrong when someone came tearing out of the house, yelling and whooping and wearing a lampshade with their horns punched through it. A small crowd followed them out, some brandishing their phones with glee, and others looking close to calling the fire department. All four of them watched in slow motion as the crazed partier did a flying leap into the pool… and landed with a sickeningly loud splat! right on their belly. Everyone around the yard did a collective wince.

“Aaaand that’s gotta be Chaq,” Darus concluded.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Harlan asked.

“The entire cauldron of lunacy, if I had to guess.”

“Is he alright?” Yvonne asked, both hands pressed to her forehead in shock.

Jet sighed and pushed to his hooves. “I guess we have to go fish him out and see. Come on, Darus.”

“Wait, what? Why do I have to go?”

“You were the one who wanted to see him do it in the first place.”

Darus groaned, but stood up. “Fine, fine, whatever.”

“I can help too, if you need,” Harlan offered.

“Nah, you two stay here,” Jet said, waving them off. “We’ll be right back.”

“Probably,” Darus added.

Two of them trotted off. The rest of the yard started to congregate around the pool to inspect the damage. Even the exhibitionists had stopped to let Chaq’s buddies excavate him from his own bad decisions. The thumping party music sounded wildly out of place.

“I hope he’ll be okay,” Yvonne said, worrying with the end of one of her braids.

“He’ll be fine,” Harlan reassured her. “Chaq is kind of… bizarre. He does this a lot.”

“That sounds unsafe.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it sure can be.”

A moment of silence lapsed. Yvonne dropped her braid to toy with his fingers instead. He nibbled her shoulder, and she giggled. He marked the spot with a kiss.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, “for coming out here tonight.”

She ducked her head. “Thank you. I… I’m happy I did.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your friends are really nice.” She twisted her fingers up by her head. “And you all have the cute curly horns.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are they cute? You never explained why you think it’s cute.”

“I don’t know!” She waved her hands around, searching for an answer. “I don’t know, it’s like they’re made of candy. Or something.”

“That’s adorable and it doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does!”

“Whatever you say.” He squished his cheek into her shoulder. “Did you… notice if theirs were longer than mine?”

She folded her hands over his gently. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I can never tell if my horns pass enough.”

“Well… I didn’t notice a huge difference. But even if I did, it wouldn’t make you any less of a billy goat, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… hard to stop thinking about sometimes.”

“I know.” She tugged at the skirt of her dress. “I really like this outfit, but I think it was made for people with more—you know.” She cupped her palms up by her chest, where the fabric sat almost flat against her.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal. You still look amazing in it.”

“I guess not. But I feel like it hangs a bit loose.” She plucked it a few times.

“Maybe you can get it tailored.”

“Maybe.” She sighed. “I just wish I could… fill it out on my own.”

“I’ll give you mine, if you want.”

Yvonne laughed, just like he hoped she would. Harlan gave her a full hug from behind, and she sighed comfortably, leaning back until her head was on his shoulder. Despite meaning everything he said, Harlan did notice that the bust of the dress left a gap she couldn’t accommodate—and that gap let him stare right down her chest.

“You know,” he said, “I think you might have grown a little.”

“Really?” She sounded earnest, and then folded her arms when she realized where he was looking. “You can’t possibly tell from that angle.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He mouthed a soft line up her neck. Her whole body shivered, against and underneath him. “I guess I’ll have to check later.”

“You can now.”

His eyebrows shot up to his horns. “Now? Are you sure?”

Yvonne bit her lip and whined, nodding into his neck. And… well, fuck, how was he supposed to say no to that?

Harlan pushed aside her curtain of braids, unzipped the back of her dress, and snuck his hands underneath. He took a moment to feel her back, her sides, slide across her ribs—go everywhere except where she wanted him, basically.

“C’mon,” she pouted, twisting her human torso to try and cheat her way there.

“Come on what?” he asked. It was a tease, sure, but also another chance for her to back off. She’d never been so touchy in public before, much less horny in public. He wasn’t sure what to do.

Yvonne told him outright, “Please, play with my tits, pretty please.”

He did as she asked, grabbing both of her breast buds and massaging them with his hands. She sighed hotly and openly, the picture of erotic relief. Harlan pressed her hard nipples against his palms, rolling them in tiny circles, and kissed up and down her neck some more. She squirmed for him, soft whimpers escaping her plush lips. When he caught one between his fingers and pinched, she moaned right into his ear.

At this point, Harlan felt his t-dick throbbing and was worried about leaving a wet spot on her back. More importantly, though, he could not believe this was happening. Yvonne had a hard enough time working up to coming to this party all, and now they were jumping right to public foreplay? It wasn’t the craziest thing Harlan had ever done, but for her, it was astounding.

Still, he couldn’t resist giving her what she wanted when she was clearly so desperate for it. Already she was panting heavily, little chest heaving under his hands. Harlan pinched and rolled both her nipples, hard. She gasped and her whole body writhed, including the part he was sitting on. Harlan grabbed her tits for dear life as she shifted her weight, nearly throwing him off.

“S-sorry, I’m sorry,” she breathed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He had to move his hands to readjust, and took the opportunity to ask, “Hey, uh, not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you today?”

“Uhm, well…” Yvonne shifted in place, like she’d been doing the whole time. “When I started estrogen, my doctor warned me that eventually, I’d develop an estrous cycle during the spring like other mares. And, uh, I think it’s. Happening. Today.”

A lightning bolt shot straight down his spine. “Oh.”

“I didn’t want to mention it, because I hoped I’d be able to ignore it. But there were all those people, h-having sex over there.” She mashed her face into her hands. “And it even made me late.”

“What do you mean? I thought your farrier made you late.”

“I—I lied. I didn’t want to leave the house because I was—” She wiggled around again. “I was really, really hard, and I couldn’t just go out in public like that, so I had to—to touch myself first.” A small whimper. “A couple times. Just to make it go away.”

Harlan was definitely leaving a wet spot on her back. “You should have just called me, baby, I would have helped you out.”

She uncovered her face just enough to look back at him. “Y-you sort of did. I thought about you, so…”

It was too much to bear. Harlan launched himself forward to lock lips, and after one surprised squeal, she returned his passion. He scrambled to any position that would let him keep kissing her, biting her lip, tasting her mouth. The fur between his legs was matted down from his cunt, his tail was going nuts, and above anything he needed to fuck Yvonne right now.

“I can help out a third time,” he breathed, “if you need to come again.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, I really need to.”

“Right here?”

“Uh…”

They both took the opportunity to look around. The sun was just starting to set, casting an orangey glow on everything in the yard, and he saw colorful fairy lights bouncing inside the house. The shocked crowd had more or less dispersed, but Jet, Darus, and Chaq were nowhere to be seen. Harlan spied a few couples still using the pool to spice up their sex lives, so nobody would be bothered seeing them fuck out here in the open. Yvonne chewed on her bottom lip.

“Can we go back there?” she asked, pointing across the yard.

A runway of grass stretched beyond their ability to see, hiding behind the far side of the house. It didn’t look like anyone was over there. It was far past the party, and they might even have a buffer from the music.

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed.

Yvonne stood up without warning, and he had to grab her to stay balanced again. Moving with urgent grace, Yvonne trotted across the yard, bouncing him all the way. Each step ground his t-dick against her back, and there was nothing that could have stopped his horny mouth from talking.

“Seeing those people in the pool turned you on, huh?” he teased, trying not to moan every time she took a step.

“Y-yeah, a little,” she said, in a way that he knew meant a lot. “I’ve never seen so many people do that and I—” She lost her rhythm and stumbled. “I really wanted to keep watching.”

Harlan felt his brain melt into a little puddle. “That’s really fucking hot.”

Her last few steps were awkward, but it didn’t stop her from making a beeline for their hideaway. She got down in the grass and let Harlan slide off her back before rolling over herself. All four of her big, feathered hooves in the air, belly exposed to the sky, Harlan caught a glimpse of her cock, unsheathed and rock hard. Only a glimpse, because she yanked him down by the shirt.

She crushed their mouths together and Harlan could only return the favor. Feverish with want, he slipped the sleeves off her dress and pulled it down to expose her chest. He got back to what he was doing earlier: pinching, rolling, and adding his mouth to suck on her nipples. Yvonne was open mouthed and gasping in seconds, hardly able to make a sound.

While he worked her tits, Harlan still felt himself reeling from her confession. She’d been getting off on watching those people, right underneath him. All those nerves he thought she had was her desperately seeking relief from her brand-new hormone cycle. Was she a voyeur? Was she an exhibitionist? Both? Was it a product of the estrous alone? Whatever the answer, he thought he’d make himself come just thinking about it. He’d let Yvonne watch him do anything, with anybody, any day of the week, if that’s what she was into. He’d fuck her while she watched someone else get fucked, give her pleasure while she took pleasure in others.

He sobbed a moan into her chest, positive he was dripping wet. Yvonne took his face in her hands and dragged him up to kiss her again. All he could do was pant into her mouth, so desperate he didn’t even care.

Yvonne separated, lips shiny with saliva. “Can I see you?”

“Yeah,” he panted. “Sure, yeah.”

Harlan scooted over, plopped back on his ass, and spread his legs. He knew he was wet, and now they both could see it. She rolled onto her side, propped up on one elbow for a better angle, and ran her fingers through the fur on the inside of his thighs. He shivered.

“Wait,” she said. “I think you got bigger.”

“You think so?” He tried to stick his head down to see.

“Look, I think it’s different.”

Yvonne ran a finger down his engorged t-dick, and he moaned so hard he bleated. He clamped his jaw shut, but it was too late. She put a hand over her mouth, but he could tell she was smiling underneath.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to laugh it off.

“No, don’t be. I think it’s sweet.”

She stroked with her finger again, and he dropped his head back in pleasure. When it was clear she was doing the right thing, Yvonne got bolder, dipping two fingers into his cunt to steal some of his wetness to stroke him faster. He moaned and fisted the grass under his hands. When she moved her fingers in a V-shape on either side of his little cock, he fell back onto his elbows. His head spun with bliss, already so far gone and they’d barely touched each other.

“Th-that feels fucking amazing,” he moaned, forcing himself up on one hand to look at her. “You’re so fucking good.”

Yvonne smiled, excited to be praised, and dove forward into his fur. Harlan gasped at the feeling of soft lips kissing his t-dick. She used her hand to keep his folds apart, took the whole thing in her mouth, and gave him a  gentle suck. Harlan groaned, eyes falling shut in his lust. When he managed to open them again, Yvonne was already looking up at him. Working her tongue in warm, wet circles, she fluttered her lashes. Harlan laughed breathily—he knew what she wanted.

“Look at how pretty you are,” he sighed, and felt her whimper into his cunt. “You’re such a pretty girl, Yvonne, and you look even better with your mouth full.”

She whined, desperate, and sucked again. Harlan moaned, but kept his composure to rub her cheek.

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re a very good girl.”

Yvonne buried her face in his thigh and moaned, devastated. She kicked her back leg over and over, gasping into his fur. Harlan knew what that meant too, and watched as she tried to get any sort of friction on her cock. He almost drooled watching it bounce against her belly, rocking with the desperate rhythm of her leg. It was so wanton, so hopeless, he couldn’t resist moving on to the main event.

“You’re so good, I almost forgot why we’re back here,” he said, nudging her head away.

“But,” she protested, “don’t you want to—?”

Harlan crawled forward and kissed her silent, licking the taste of himself off her lips. He rolled her onto her back again, stroking a hand down her body as far as he could reach.

“I’ll definitely come from getting you off,” he told her. “Promise.”

Yvonne swallowed hard and whimpered. “Okay.”

Harlan staggered to his hooves. He raked his fingers through his thigh fur on the way down to Yvonne’s cock—the fact that he needed to walk there, even if it wasn’t very far, always made him shiver. Both her back legs were bent at the hock and spread wide, putting her on full display for him. Harlan ducked under her leg and made sure not to step on her braided tail as he took up his favorite spot: right behind her cock, so she could watch everything he did.

Yvonne’s dick was longer than his arm. Large, prominent veins ran up and down the shaft, and he knew if he touched one, he’d feel the pulse keeping it thick and hot. The head was wider than the rest of it, with a prominent rim and flared ends. At the other end, her shaft was cushioned by the wrinkled skin of her sheath, and her balls dangled in front of him enticingly. Too heavy to stand upright on its own, her cock rested against her belly, waiting to be touched.

He had no choice but to oblige. Harlan sighed hotly, and ran his palm from root to tip, savoring the smooth, warm skin. Yvonne gasped and arched her back, crumpling her dress in her fists. He leaned a little forward, grabbing her shaft with both hands and stroking her. She moaned, loud, much louder than he expected. Harlan kept going, aching to hear more. She whimpered and squirmed under his hands.

“More,” she begged. “More, I need it, more.”

Harlan bent over and licked the very edge of her sheath. She cried out in ecstasy, and there was no way that the rest of the party was ignorant to them now. Shocked, all he could do was keep going, stroking and lapping at her cock, out in the open.

The next time his hands went up, they came away with a sticky, transparent sheen. A steady stream of thick pre-cum flowed from her tip, dripping down her belly, and now all down her shaft. Harlan reached up to rub her head for more, stroking faster with the added slick. Yvonne keened and—his favorite thing—her massive cock twitched. The muscle jumped under his hands, throbbing with pleasure. Harlan shivered head to toe, at risk of bleating again.

It was no secret how much he loved her size. Yvonne insisted she was average for a centaur, maybe even a bit below average, but she was still bigger than every minotaur Harlan had ever fucked, combined. And it wasn’t just her dick, it was everything. Her hooves were bigger than dinner plates. She had to duck under every doorframe, even the ones built for centaurs. Harlan wasn’t short for a satyr, but next to her, he was tiny. And he loved it.

Every time they fucked, he did his best to gratify every inch of her. With both hands, mouth, grinding on her, using his entire body, whatever got the job done. He wanted to fill her gorgeous cock with pleasure and let it boil over into the rest of her. From the end of her tail to the tips of her fingers, he wanted her entire body, easily ten times his size, to tremble with bliss. That’s how he’d know he did a good job.

Maybe it was the estrous cycle, but Yvonne was already satisfying that desire for him. Her hind legs were tense trying not to kick, but her front legs had no such responsibility, failing wildly as he stroked her. She was at risk of tearing her brand-new dress right off, jerking it in every direction. If she wasn’t already on the ground, her head would have been thrown back in ecstasy, moans and whimpers tumbling out like they weren’t at a house party. Harlan had long since forgotten to worry about her anxiety, stroking her cock with renewed enthusiasm.

“H-Harlan!” she cried, her first coherent word in ages. “I want you, so much.”

“I’m right here, I’m giving it to you,” he soothed, stroking down hard. Wrong answer. She shook her head wildly. He laughed a little. “You’ve gotta tell me what you want, then.”

“More.”

“More what?”

She nearly sobbed, throwing her arms over her face. “Fuck me, please, I want to be inside you so much. Please, please fuck me!”

He had to stop to catch his breath. It was crazy to see her like this—so completely shameless. It was hard to believe this was the same centaur who apologized for walking, who always put everyone else’s comfort above her needs. But here she was, writhing in the grass of someone else’s yard, begging to be fucked, without a care in the world for who noticed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

The sound she made was so grateful, he had to stop himself from racing down to kiss her. Harlan scrambled around to sit on her belly, his back turned to Yvonne now, and her cock staring him head on. It was shiny and throbbing from his work, the flowing pre-cum making her body slippery. Harlan scooted down, and leaned back slowly, spreading his legs wide.

“Please hurry,” she whined.

“I know, baby, I’m almost there.” Harlan cupped the head of her cock, tracing the rim. “You’re gonna be so deep inside me, I promise.”

She exhaled shakily. He used his pre-cum soaked hands to wet his cunt, and finger himself a little to prepare for what was coming. Then, slowly, he pushed Yvonne inside him.

The head was always the most difficult part to take. It was not made for a hole as small as his, and Harlan felt it every time. He exhaled deeply to make as much room for it as possible, pressing it inside a little at a time. A hot gush of her pre-cum spilled over his cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his own little cock throbbing now.

“Are you okay?” Yvonne asked. She was still herself after all.

“I’m fine, just relax.”

Harlan took his own advice and took another deep breath. With the added slick, he was able to pop the head of her cock inside him. And immediately gasp, cunt stretched so wide already. He felt the flared rim pushing against his insides. It almost hurt to take so much of her, and it was just the head.

“Fucking fuck,” he swore, trying to catch his breath.

“Harlan?” Yvonna called, more than a little worried.

“I’m okay.” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and whimpered. The rest of Yvonne’s cock stretched out before him. “You’re so fucking big.”

Behind him, he heard a thump, like she’d collapsed back into the grass. “Y-you’re really, really tight.”

That was all the motivation he needed. Harlan took her shaft and guided more of it inside. Smaller and smoother than her head, the shaft was easier to take, but it was still massive. He had his mouth hanging open in a silent moan the whole time, filling himself with more and more and more of her cock, but there was still so much more left. When the head of her cock tapped his cervix, he writhed in pleasure, moaning like he’d never been fucked in his life. In the end, he hadn’t even taken half.

“I-I can’t fit anymore,” he gasped. “I’m so full, I’m so full of your cock, baby.”

Yvonne choked on air. “F-f-ahh-nn!”

Harlan moved by grabbing her sides and pushing. He felt every inch of the dick that slid out, and didn’t make it very far before pulling himself back down. They moaned together, completely crazed with lust. He continued at that slow pace, all he could manage, but it was plenty for both of them.

Yvonne had gone perfectly still for his sake, no more thrashing around. But he felt her breathing hard underneath him, her belly heaving as he fucked himself on her cock. Feeling her move—he wished he had a free hand he could rub himself off, but it took everything he had to hold on. He had no choice but to surrender himself to the feeling of being so full he thought he’d burst. He watched the miniscule amount he’d managed to fit inside disappear into his cunt, and compared it to the rest left over. He whimpered at the thought of more.

There was no way it was possible to fit more of her inside him, and he knew that. Not unless he was fine with a few ruptured organs. But fuck, it would be incredible. If he could take all of Yvonne and truly fuck himself on her entire cock, fuck her as deeply and thoroughly as she fucked him, there would be go going back. He might not ever do anything else. Every spring, he’d fuck her until she screamed and begged and came as many times as she needed to satisfy her estrous for the day. And then he’d do it again the next day.

His legs trembled, but he had to go faster. He yanked himself up and down, not wanting to hurt her, but fuck, he needed this. He needed Yvonne so badly, he needed to pound himself on her cock, to take as much of it as he possibly could.

“I love you,” he rasped. “I love you so much, I love how you feel, I wish we could stay like this. Fuck.”

“I—” Yvonne tried, voice broken and shaky. “I—Ha—”

He laughed dizzily. “It’s okay, if you can’t—”

“I—I’m gonna come!”

Harlan was just pulling her back out when it happened. Her cock twitched and burst inside his cunt, flooding him with her cum. He absolutely couldn’t take it anymore.

He didn’t even pull her out before furiously jerking off his t-dick. Neglected for so long, it didn’t take long for him to start bucking and moaning into his own hand. His cunt was slippery enough that he didn’t need any help, but if he needed any, cum leaked out the side of his hole in abundance.

Yvonne’s cock shrunk enough to pop out on its own. He gasped at the loss, but moaned for a different reason. Like a popped cork, all of her cum spilled out at once. It drenched his fur, drenched her stomach, and it felt endless.

Harlan arched his back and came hard. There was nothing that could have driven him over the edge faster, and he laid there for what felt like minutes, waves of ecstasy crashing over his mind and rippling through his shaking body.

It felt deathly quiet when he came back to himself. The evening had turned to a definitive night, stars twinkling above. The party music was still going on, somewhere. The only sound he cared about was Yvonne’s breathing, her belly still gently moving him up and down.

“That was awesome,” he concluded.

Yvonne laughed, groggy from her own orgasm. “Mhmm.”

He sighed, content. “I don’t really want to go back to the party.”

“Mm. Me neither.”

“Do you want to just go back to your place? Watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds nice.“

“Or we can go for round two?”

“Umm.” Harlan couldn’t see her, but he knew she was biting her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He smiled into the starry night. “Whatever you need.”

excerpt from the Athendroyln After Dark Anthology by Annika Sage Ellis

Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast

Tips are appreciated!

Contains: dom/sub dynamics, fellatio, hair-pulling, face-fucking, degradation, bondage, name calling, coming untouched, aftercare, injury from sex

---

The neck brace was uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as the breathing tubes had been. Yatur savored his limited freedom as the elvish nurse checked him over yet again. He sat as still as possible, trying to stare down his nose at his tusks to entertain himself while she monitored the healing spells doing their work on his injured throat. The display next to his hospital bed made a few beeping sounds and showed a dozen graphs he couldn’t begin the parse.

“It looks like everything’s coming along smoothly,” the nurse said. She flipped a switch on the display, returning it to a normal heart monitor. “All your internal thaumaturgic levels are stabilizing and there’s no sign of over-healing.”

“That’s a relief,” Yatur said, but he hadn’t been worried. Maybe it was the painkillers, but he felt fine. “Am I clear to go, or…?”

“I’ll check with the doctor, but we’ll probably want to keep you until the last of those spells leave your system, just in case.”

“Is there a still a risk of over-healing?”

“Not immediately, but if there’s any additional trauma to the area, it might work itself into overdrive at the last second.” She shrugged. “It’s rare, but better to be safe than sorry.”

Yatur tried not to make a face. He’d been hoping to go home today. “Gotcha, thanks.”

“I have to be with another patient, but if there’s anything else—”

A different beep came from the door. The nurse went to check it out, leaving Yatur alone in his bed. He awkwardly swung his entire upper body toward the door, curious, but his eyes pulled him toward his bedside table instead. A tall bouquet of yellow flowers, as fresh as they day they’d been delivered, sat in their enchanted vase. He smiled fondly.

“It looks like you have a visitor,” the nurse called back. “Your partner, Orakh?”

“Send him in,” Yatur said.

She opened the door wide and Orakh shuffled in. Despite his impressive stature and stocky body, he managed to look exactly like a kid coming off a time-out. Yatur would have shook his head if he could move it at all.

“I’ll come see you after I’ve followed-up with the doctor,” the nurse said, “and they’ll let you know when you’re discharged.”

“Thank you,” Yatur said, waving.

“Uh, thanks,” Orakh mumbled.

The door shut and they were alone. Orakh came to the bedside and sat in the visitor’s chair, hunching apologetically. Yatur extended a hand, and held it there until he took it. His lighter green fingers in Yatur’s forest-colored palm, everything was exactly as it should be again. Except—

“I’m so sorry,” Orakh said.

“Stop apologizing,” Yatur ordered. “That’s eleven times now.”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, something interesting? I’ve been so bored for the last three days.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

“Are you? Really?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, not really, but it’s ridiculous that you aren’t taking this more seriously.”

“I’m fine! The surgery went off without a hitch, and I’m—”

“You needed surgery!”

“And it’ll be the funniest story about a scar I’ll ever tell in my life.”

Orakh let go of his hand to bury his face in his palms. “Don’t make this a thing, please.”

Yatur shifted his entire body to lean over and ruffle his hair. “Aren’t you a little proud?”

“No?” He looked up, baffled. “Why would I be proud of this?”

“Why not? I mean, come on, it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“Exactly.” Orakh put his head back in his hands. “That is exactly why I’m not proud of this.”

Yatur sighed a little, petting him more gently. He hated seeing Orakh like this, especially because Yatur hadn’t been angry even for a second, but it made sense that he would be more torn up about their little accident. He was always so careful, there was no way he didn’t feel responsible. Though, to be fair, their night had started off perfectly...

 

 

Yatur was on his knees, wrists bound to his ankles by cuffs and chains, achingly hard. Worse still, he hadn’t been allowed to take his clothes off, his cock pressing near-painfully against the front of his jeans. Right now, there was only one thing he was allowed to do.

Orakh yanked his hair hard. “Open up, slut.”

Already gasping, Yatur dropped his mouth as far as he could, starry-eyed from the fist Orakh held him still with. Staring up at his naked body—fat chest, protruding belly, thick thighs, and heavy arms, dusted with dark hair—Yatur could only whimper as his equally fat cock slid into his mouth.

It always shocked him how he could feel Orakh squeeze past his tusks, almost too thick to fit between them. He tried to squirm forward, desperate, but Orakh kept his head on a slow course all the way down. Inch by inch, he filled up Yatur’s mouth, threatened to fill up his throat entirely, drowning him in cock. Until, finally, his nose hit the front of his belly, and he stopped. Saliva already dribbled out from the corners of his mouth. He wished he could breathe in to smell his musk.

“Look at you,” Orakh sneered. “What a whore. Do you drool on every cock as soon as you get a whiff?” He slowly pulled Yatur away from his dick, all the way until the tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Or is it just mine?”

“Yours,” Yatur sighed, tongue darting out to lick his tip. The salty pre-cum made his mouth feel less empty. “Just yours, please…”

He scoffed. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

Orakh adjusted his grip on Yatur’s hair, taking it in a fist, and yanked again. Yatur’s moan was muffled by his cock. Since it wasn’t forced all the way down his throat again, he just moaned harder. It filled his mouth with no room to spare, and he sucked gratefully.

“Are you really telling me,” Orakh said, “that a whore like you wouldn’t suck any cock put in front of him?”

Yatur couldn’t protest with his mouth full, but he could run his tongue along the underside of his shaft. His domineering posture slipped when he grunted hotly, eyes pinching closed in pleasure. Yatur sucked him again, trying to mouth his way farther down, but it was no use. Orakh had his hair in a vice grip, and he twisted his wrist to make sure he knew it.

“You’re just proving my point,” he said, composure recovered. “You’re such a pathetic slut, you can’t help yourself from sucking me off even when I’m insulting you for it.”

He whimpered and wriggled in his bindings, because it was true. Yatur didn’t care what Orakh said—didn’t care about anything Orakh did to him—as long as he got his face stuffed. He could spit in his eye, slap him across the face, tell him he was worthless, but as long as Yatur got to suck his cock, even once, even just a lick, he’d do it gratefully.

“I guess it’s not that bad,” Orakh said, pulling Yatur away again. “That you have no standards and all.” Before he reached the end and left him empty, he pushed back in. “It makes you the easiest fuck in the world.”

Yatur moaned around him, not for anything he said, but at the feeling. The sensation of a cock moving back and forth across his lips, his tongue. Orakh didn’t stop moving, using his mouth like a hole to fuck. He watched as Orakh’s cock got farther away, then closer, then farther, then closer—his own cock throbbed in his pants. Yatur couldn’t help moaning while he sucked, laving Orakh with his tongue, trying everything he could think of to keep his cock inside, to keep him fucking his mouth. He didn’t even care about going breathless—he needed it so badly.

“Imagine if you cared,” Orakh continued, sarcasm dripping off every word. “Think of all the cocks you never would have sucked, if you weren’t such a dirty whore. If you weren’t so desperate, maybe you wouldn’t have fucked every dick you’ve ever seen. Wouldn’t that be tragic?”

To punctuate the sentence, he thrusted hard. Yatur choked as his fat cock touched the back of his throat, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. He whined as Orakh pulled him away. He laughed at his aguish.

“Gods, you’re pathetic. You’re a pathetic fucking slut.” He popped his cock fully out of Yatur’s mouth, and yanked him higher. Orakh looked him in the eye, a burning, demanding stare. “I want you to say it.”

“I—” Yatur rasped, trying to find his voice.

“Tell me what you are.”

“I—I’m a slut.”

He cupped a hand around his ear. “You’re a what?”

“I’m a slut! I’m a slut, I’m a pathetic slut! Please, I’m a slut!”

Orakh smirked, and it melted him inside. “That’s what I thought.”

This time, there was no build up. Yatur got his mouth stuffed all the way to his throat, his nose mashed against Orakh’s stomach. He curled his toes and his fingers and his cock twitched in his pants. Fuck, it felt so good.

“And because you’re such a slut,” Orakh said, patronizing, sneering down at him, “I’m going to treat you like one.”

He pulled Yatur away, and he gasped for air. Orakh let go of his hair to grab both sides of his head in his big, warm hands. Yatur had just enough time for his stomach to flip over before Orakh thrusted into his mouth.

Yatur choked as his cock slammed down his throat, but wasn’t given any time to recover. Orakh held his head in place and snapped his hips again, and again, and again. Each thrust shoved his cock deeper, forcing every inch of his thick shaft down his throat. Orakh stuffed him like a too-small cocksleeve, and used him just as flippantly.

Trembling in his restraints, all Yatur could do was take it. Drool and pre-cum spilled from the corners of his mouth in long strands, and he knew his boxers were ruined, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t do anything about his body that begged for release, he couldn’t beg for more, he couldn’t even moan. Helpless, Yatur just kept his mouth open and waited for Orakh to be finished with him—to toss him aside like the easy slut he was.

Part of him hoped it would never end. He loved being used, he loved that Orakh could barely fit in his mouth. The tip of his cock hit the back of his throat with every thrust, easily, and he felt Orak trying to fit even more. A particularly hard snap of his hips pounded the back of his throat so hard he felt tears spring to his eyes.

“Don’t fucking tell me,” Orakh grunted, huffing from his work, “this is too much for you.”

He pulled out slowly, and Yatur took the welcome opportunity to breathe. The tears slipped down his cheeks, his throat throbbed from the barrage it had taken, but Yatur still wanted more. He looked up at Orakh, prepared to beg again, but he didn’t get a chance. Orakh fucked his throat hard, and pulled out slow. Another thrust, a slow retreat.

“Take it,” he commanded, and thrusted again. “Take it, you—stupid—fucking whore.”

Yatur arched his back and would have sobbed if he had his mouth to himself. His body screamed, his ecstasy wound tighter and tighter by the second.

“You’re nothing—but a needy—fucking—hole.” He kept going, thrusting to punctuate every word. Yatur thought he might explode. “Worthless—pathetic—slut!”

That finally undid him. Yatur jerked in his bonds and a desperate, broken sound burst from his utterly fucked throat. He denied cock twitched and coating his clothes in desperate cum. Orakh didn’t stop, still using him while his body quivered. Only when he slumped, completely spent, did he pull his cock out of his throat—but still kept it in his mouth.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, but his imposing demeanor wavered. His cock was hot and heavy on Yatur’s tongue, desperate for its own release. He let go of Yatur’s head and took his hair in a fist again. “Be grateful I fucked a dirty slut like you. Suck.”

And he did. Yatur sucked the cock that abused his throat so tenderly. He mouthed and licked and treated it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever do with his lips. Orakh moaned to reward him, twisting his hair in his pleasure.

It only took a minute for his work to pay off in the ultimate prize. Orakh came with another twitch of his hips, spilling down his aching throat. Yatur accepted that, too, swallowing every salty mouthful with a small whimper.

After he was done, Orakh released his hair gently. Yatur fell back against the bed, exhausted. He didn’t even bother ending the scene properly—just sat back and breathed. While he rested, Orakh got down and undid his restraints.

“Hey, good job,” he said, voice so much softer now. He put the cuffs to the side and helped Yatur unbend his legs. “Are you alright, how do you feel?”

“Good,” Yatur rasped. He was going to be sore tomorrow, for sure.

“I’m glad.” Orakh took his messy face and kissed his nose. “Thank you for doing all that. I love you.” Yatur tried to say it back, but coughed harshly. Orakh stood up. “Water. I’ll be right back.”

“Pants,” he wheezed, gesturing at the dark stain on his front.

“And new pants.”

He left with purpose, a man on a mission. Yatur closed his eyes to breathe some more, and contemplate how lucky he was.

 

 

“You couldn’t have known,” Yatur said, smoothing his hair to try and get him to look up. “We’ve done stuff like that scene a hundred times, and nothing bad happened.”

“I know,” Orakh said. He took his face out of his hands, but didn’t look up. “I just… I feel like I ruined it.”

“What?” He folded his arms over his chest. “Come on, look at me.”

It took several seconds, but Orakh lifted his head at last. Guilt marred his expression, guilt and apology. It was heartbreaking. And complete bullshit.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Yatur insisted. “This thing”—he pointed at his brace—“does absolutely nothing to take away from how much I enjoyed that scene, and you’re being ridiculous if you think this has ruined blowjobs for me or something. It hasn’t. I’ll be okay, but I’m going to be less okay if you keep beating yourself up over this.”

Orakh didn’t reply. He squeezed his eyes shut in a look Yatur knew too well. He swiped the tissue box off his side table and handed it over. Orakh took it and ducked again to dab at his eyes.

“We know to be more careful now,” Yatur continued, so he didn’t feel pressured to say anything. “I won’t be able to do oral for a while, anyway, so we’ll have time to come up with ways to make it safer.”

He crushed the tissue in his fist. “I should’ve—”

“Stop.”

“I should have thought of that already. Before something like this happened.”

“Accidents happen! Risk aware consensual kink, right? We did think of this.”

Orakh took a shaky breath. “I just… I’m supposed to make sure we both have a good time.”

“You’re acting like I didn’t have a good time. Also, who says it’s just up to you?”

“Everything? I don’t know.” He pinched his eyes, his thinking face. “My whole life, I got told that a good sex partner makes sure that whoever they’re sleeping with is having a good time. It was the most important thing—don’t be selfish, don’t do things they hate just because you like it, don’t ignore what they need. You know? And I ruptured your godsdamned airway, which—” He snorted, humorlessly, and dropped his hand. “I don’t know, it feels like I failed at all that.”

Yatur understood. He’d grown up hearing the same thing. “I get it. But you’re still wrong.”

“How?”

“Because you dragged me to the hospital in the first place, remember?”

 

 

Yatur had been sore after a rough face-fucking before. Usually a cough drop fixed him right up, and failing that, hot tea with honey. But this time was particularly… weird. The pain was closer to having a needle stuck back there than a sore muscle, and he couldn’t get a full deep breath, no matter how many times he tried. It was hard to swallow, too. He reached up to rub his neck, for the fiftieth time since he’d woken up that morning.

 “What’s up?” Orakh asked, looking up from the morning newspaper.

“I don’t know,” he rasped—his voice was still raspy somehow. He hadn’t been able to swallow more than a few mouthfuls of tea. “My throat hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit sharper, I guess? Than usual.” He tried to cough, but it just sent another painful spike through his neck. He winced.

Orakh folded the paper down. “Do you need to call a doctor or something?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll take a bath?”

“How would that help?”

“Maybe it won’t? It just feels a little hard to breathe, so—”

“You can’t breathe properly?”

“I said a little, Orakh—where are you going?”

He’d gotten up from the table and made a beeline for the foyer. “We,” he corrected, shoving his feet into a pair of slip-ons, “are going to the ER. Right now.”

Yatur almost rolled his eyes, “Come on, babe, it’s not that bad.”

“And if it’s not that bad, they’ll tell us that at the ER.”

He sighed, ignoring how much it stung, and stood up. If it would make Orakh happy to check, he’d go get an x-ray or whatever. He really didn’t think it was that big a deal, though.

And it turned out Yatur was very wrong.

 

 

“If you hadn’t shoved me out the door, I wouldn’t have gotten checked out at all.”

“Because you’re stupid,” Orakh said.

“Yes! Very!” They both laughed, and it lightened the oppressive mood at last. “If you really failed at being a good partner and caring about my needs, you wouldn’t have brought me here.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve made your point.” He took a breath and reached for his hand. They laced fingers. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. For caring about me.” Yatur squeezed his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Yatur let the moment hang for a few seconds, running his thumb over the back of Orakh’s hand. Then, he decided to ruin it. “Plus, imagine the story I get to tell at the Community Contribution Show next year.”

He blinked, confused. “What? That you sucked my dick and lived to tell the tale?”

“Yeah, basically.”

Orakh laughed, and Yatur was too proud of his own joke not to join in. They may have needed to tone down their favorite scenes, but as far as Yatur was concerned, everything in his relationship was perfect.

excerpt from the Athendroyln After Dark Anthology by Annika Sage Ellis

Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast

Tips are appreciated!

Contains: human/dryad, misunderstandings, accidental indecent exposure, accidental public sex, muffing, fingering, handjobs, tree/flower/non-genital sex, magic sex toys, first time (with each other), fondling, explaining sex and genitals

Dysphoria warning: There is a trans woman in this story. Her genitals are referred to as: clit/clitoris, hard/erection, ball(s), testicle(s), inguinal canal(s), inguinal ring(s), cunt(s). Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria.

---

Candice stumbled off the train with the few other passengers who took the Athendrolyn Public Transportation rail this far out. Arborbend was the final stop on the line, and compared to the other APT rail stops, it was falling apart at the seams. The metal-framed wood structure was rickety and weather-beaten, A few planks squeaked under her boots in a way she was particularly uneasy about, considering the river was only one unfortunate accident away.

She shook herself, traipsing down the stairs. There was no way this place wasn’t magically reinforced—she hoped. It should have been.—and if it was really that structurally unsound, they wouldn’t run the train on it anyway. Besides, there was no point in letting something so small bother her today. She was meeting Maggie for plant shopping.

Candice had never been to Arborbend before, but Maggie insisted it was the neighborhood with the best plant nurseries in the city. Which made sense—being so close to the edge of town and therefore the local forest, Arborbend was the unofficial dryad population center of the city. Stepping out from the rail stop and into the midsummer sun, it was obvious.

The roads were completely dirt. No streets, no pavement, not even any wheel tracks from anyone who dared try to drive or bike. Instead, dozens of dryads glided right through the uncovered soil, almost floating as they pushed themselves along by their roots. Some planted themselves in the middle of the path, standing motionless to soak up the afternoon sun.

The buildings were all wood, some using fully grown trees in their design, and every single one had a garden. Whether it was a neatly tended window planter, or vines climbing up the walls, not a house or business crossed her eye without one. They were taller, too, and so were the doors. They reminded Candice of the “nested doors” in more populated parts of the city, but there were no alternate doors for shorter creatures here. She didn’t mind that—she had to use the taller nested doors to avoid banging her head on the “human sized” doors that were just a little too short for her. Dryad doors would be a welcome relief.

The one thing this neighborhood did not have was any street signs. Candice bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to figure out where she was going.

“Over here!”

Candice snapped her head around and slumped in relief. Maggie waved her gnarled branch of an arm from not too far away. Her evergreen leaves were as big and forest-dark as ever, the crown of her branches piled tall on her head in a cone shape. If anyone could help her navigate this part of the city, it was a literal magnolia tree.

“Thank the Gods,” Candice said, approaching at a light jog. She had to crane her neck to look Maggie in the face, the tall and lanky tree that she was. “I thought I was going to have to memorize this place myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Maggie said. She spoke with magic, like all dryads, her face made of twisted bark, with no mouth, nose, or skin to wrinkle. Despite that limitation, her tree sap eyes shone a happy amber. “I know it’s hard for the unrooted to navigate around here.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She gestured down the street. “Go ahead, lead on.”

“Well, first.” Maggie pointed in the opposite direction. “We’re going this way.”

“And that’s why I’m glad you’re here.”

Maggie laughed, her bark creaking, and she started off down the dirt road. Candice could have sworn she saw one of her closed flower buds start to bloom, but it was gone the next time she looked. Maybe it was her imagination.

The path they took was so convoluted Candice knew she would have gotten lost a hundred times if she tried to do it herself. There was almost nothing intuitive about how the roads were organized—to a human, anyway—and sometimes buildings appeared out of nowhere to block the way. Maggie navigated it all flawlessly, as if she had a map right in front of her. Though, more accurately, the map was underneath her, her roots churning through the dirt to find her way.

“Here we are!” she announced, at the end of their maze. “Welcome to Whistleroot Plant Nursery.”

Before them was a beautiful, massive greenhouse, more extravagant than even the most decorated buildings Candice had seen on their way here. The glass walls displayed plants and flowers for at least two stories from top to bottom, all of them flourishing. The roof burst with them, the glass top opened to let them stretch their branches and give the whole building a leafy haircut.

“Wow,” Candice said.

Maggie plucked her roots out of the dirt to walk on top of the ground instead. “Shall we?”

Candice raced ahead to beat her long stride and open the glass door for her. “After you.”

A big white blossom popped open near her face, ten big petals and a bright yellow center. It was beautiful, but Candice didn’t get to admire it for very long. Panicked, Maggie’s hands flew up to coax the flower back to a closed bud.

“Thanks,” she said, hurrying into the nursery. “Sorry, I—Thank you.”

“No problem.” Candice followed behind her, feeling like she was missing something.

It was another short-lived feeling, as the inside of Whistleroot Plant Nursery dazzled her even more than the outside. An entire spectrum of colored blossoms spanned as far as the eye could see. Knowing almost nothing about plants, she could already tell which ones were magical—flowers unfurling when someone walked by, only to close again when they passed, vines reaching out to dig around in other planters, some that spoke. Although, maybe that wasn’t so shocking.

“What do you want to look at first?” Maggie asked—a walking, talking plant.

“I need something totally unkillable,” Candice said. “I have whatever the opposite of a green thumb is.”

“Come on, I’m sure you aren’t that bad.”

“I’ve killed a cactus before.”

Maggie nodded slowly. “Okay, that does change things. Let’s… go this way?”

She ducked under a curtain of vines and Candice followed. She hadn’t touched a plant in years, but since meeting Maggie at a terrarium build-off, she was warming up to trying again. After all, her gray-banded kingsnake, Barbecue, was going need a new enclosure soon. If she could overcome her plant-killing tendencies and make it a vivarium for him, she would be the proudest snake parent in all of Athendrolyn.

“So, I don’t know about unkillable,” Maggie said, approaching a wide tray of ferns, “but magical plants do tend to be hardier than mundane plants.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get, honestly,” Candice said. “As long as it won’t kill me back.”

She shook her head, laughing. “No, no, of course not. Most of them are totally harmless.”

That wasn’t really an encouraging caveat, but hey, Maggie was the expert here. Candice turned the label of the nearest pot toward her. “’Echo fern,’ huh?”

The plant rustled its leaves. “Echo fern, huh?”

She jumped back. “Gah!”

“Gah!”

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I’m fine.” She glanced warily at the talking fern. “Not sure about this one, though.”

“No problem, there are plenty more!”

They kept moving through the magical section. On the left, they passed a tray of cute looking flowers. Candice felt a little more at ease looking at them—they didn’t move, or talk. Maybe they were for potions. In fact, they looked like completely normal oxeye daisies, clustered together in big white and yellow groups.

“What’s so magical about these?” she asked, picking up one of the planters.

“No, you shouldn’t—”

The flowers angled their petals right at her face. Maggie yanked them out of her hands just in time for one of them to shoot all of its petals clean off its stem. They went flying around the nursery. One sliced clean through a thick vine and sent it tumbling to the ground.

Candice stared, horrified. “What the f—"

“Those are assassin daises,” Maggie explained, and gingerly put the planter down. “They’re, uh, not for beginners.”

“Right. Shit.” She scooted a little farther away. “I’m… going to listen to you before touching things from now on.”

Maggie quickly ushered her away from the assassin daisies and towards something much nicer looking. A series of plants in medium-sized ceramic pots were lined up by one of the glass windows, waving their long, stringy stems in the air. Pea-sized leaves ran up and down each stem, shifting back and forth like they were caught in a breeze.

“This is a twisted tassel vine,” Maggie said. “It’s happy with being watered once a week in a spot with good sunlight, and it’s friendly!”

She brushed her hand across the nearest vine. It delicately wrapped itself around her finger-branches, all the way up to her wooden wrist. The other vines from the same plant listed through the air toward her, swaying side to side.

“And they like to dance,” she giggled, and joined it swaying from side to side.

“That’s so cute,” Candice said, smiling at the sight. Maggie froze in place, glancing between her and the plant.

“H-here, you should—Come on, try it!”

She grabbed Candice’s wrist and held her hand over the plant—kind of unnecessary, since she would have done it anyway, but whatever. Maybe she was just excited.

The twisted tassel leaned toward her, feeling through the air for her hand. True to its name, the vine twisted around and around her fingers, soft leaves brushing her skin. It had a tighter grip than she expected, as if made of muscle and not a fragile stem. When it moved its free vines, swishing back and forth, she felt it trying to pull her along. The little tug from a plant that liked to dance was simply too adorable for Candice to pass up. Now she and Maggie stood in the corner of the plant nursery, swaying back and forth like it was something to do.

“This feels kinda silly,” she said.

“But it’s fun,” Maggie added.

“Yeah, it’s fun! Somehow!” She laughed at how ridiculous it was—she was dancing with a plant. Two plants, if she counted Maggie.

Although, maybe she shouldn’t, because Maggie had stopped again. She just stared, amber eyes sparkling. If she had a mouth, Candice would have bet money on a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“What’s that look for?”

She startled, as if she didn’t realize what she was doing. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Excuse me,” said a terse voice behind them. They turned and saw an oak tree dryad, as disgruntled as their near-featureless face could express. “I believe the magnolia here is flowering.”

“W-what?” Maggie rushed to pat down her leaves, leaving the twisted tassel behind, and gasped. “It was behind me, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t even realize.”

“Just be more careful next time, hm?” The oak dryad left before either of them could reply.

Candice frowned after them. “That was rude.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Maggie insisted, but she stood a little farther away. “Let’s keep going?”

“Well, hold on. I like this one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s fun.” Candice carefully untangled herself from the vines and lifted the pot into her arms. “My new adventure in plants starts now.” The twisted tassel seemed to like that idea, reaching up to play in her hair. “Although, uh. Does it ever stop… doing this?”

“It stops at night,” Maggie said. She reached over the twisted tassel display and plucked a long piece of string out of a cup. “You can tie it up for now.”

Candice held the pot as far from her as her arms could reach so Maggie could pluck the vines out of hair and tie them together gently. It didn’t completely stop, wiggling half-heartedly, but it wasn’t so adventurous while she carried it around.

Neither was Maggie. She rattled off plant facts when they got near one she liked, but not as enthusiastically. She kept her distance from Candice, too, leaving a polite bubble of air reserved for strangers. It was really weird, and a little worrying.

Every time Maggie bloomed, she tried to close the flower back up. Candice had only seen a full flower bloom from her once while they were hanging out, on accident, and she apologized profusely for it. She was always cagey about why, so Candice just assumed it was a dryad thing she wouldn’t be able to understand. After that stranger scolded her about it, she was even more sure that she was missing something. But after this reaction, she wondered.

It seemed like Maggie was repressing herself. Flowering was a natural thing for plants, right? Why was it such a big deal that she would go out of her way to apologize for it? Why was it such a big deal that strangers would scold her for it? Candice didn’t really want to ask her in public, if the subject was so embarrassing. But there had to be some way to make her feel better.

“This twisted tassel obviously can’t go in a vivarium,” she said, off-handedly. “I think I’d be scared of it dancing Barbecue to death.”

“Me too, it would be too risky,” Maggie agreed. “Plus, he would definitely hate it.”

“Yeah, he’d try to murder this thing.” Candice nudged her with an elbow. “You helped with the build-off, right? What kinds of plants usually go in one?”

“Hmm, he’s a desert species, right?” She glanced around at the sea of plants before them. “You can always play it safe with mundane desert plants—palms, agave, aloe vera, bromeliad if you want some color. Oh!” She rushed over to one of the mundane plants and plucked out one with long, wavy leaves, growing in the shape of a star. “This is a red cryptanthus, aren’t they pretty?”

“That’s awesome. It almost matches his orange-y part.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Maggie gasped and shoved the cryptanthus back on the tray. “That gives me an idea. Come on, over here!”

Candice hefted the twisted tassel pot in her arms and followed as close as she could. Maggie led her back to the magical plant section, and stopped in front of a relatively normal looking leafy specimen. Suspiciously normal, she thought, but maybe it was the daisies getting to her.

“This is a chameleon blossom,” Maggie explained. “It looks like a normal plant, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Maggie took the pot from her. “Go on, touch it. It won’t work if I try.”

Candice shuffled forward. “Are you sure?”

“It’s totally safe, I promise!”

Cautiously, she reached out to brush one of the leaves. The whole thing shuddered and turned the same peachy-beige as her skin.

“Whoa,” she said.

“And it copies other animals too! So if you put this in Barbecue’s enclosure, it would change colors to match whenever he got near it.”

“That would be pretty cool. I wonder if it would stress him out, though.”

Maggie nodded. “Good point. It is a defense mechanism to scare animals away.”

“I’ll ask around the herp scene.” Candice took the twisted tassel pot back. “Someone else must have tried it at some point.”

“Probably.” She picked at a groove in her bark. “I really thought it was a good idea, oh well.”

“Don’t worry about it. I still have to prove I can keep one plant alive before I start building an ecosystem.” She started walking backwards to the checkout. “And this thing is getting heavy, so I’m good starting with one.”

Candice paid for her plant, including the upcharge offer to enchant the pot to be easier to carry. While they waited at the register, she gave Maggie a light punch on the arm.

“Thanks for coming plant shopping with me,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Maggie said, but shrugged. “I don’t think I did all that much, though.”

“What do you mean? You recommended I come here in the first place, which is why I’m buying this plant right now. That was my one goal, and your suggestion is why I did it today.”

She shifted her weight, glancing down at her roots. “Well, I guess.”

“You gave me some good advice for Barbecue’s future home. I learned some plant facts!”

“You almost got attacked by an assassin daisy.”

“And that. Which you saved me from, so hey, you also saved my life today!”

Maggie laughed, leaves rustling. Another one of her flowers popped open—a big one, soft-looking petals forming a delicate circle around the cone-like center. She raised her hand, no doubt to close it, and Candice couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Why do you do that?” she asked.

“Do… what?” Maggie replied, frozen in place.

“Why do you close your flowers all the time?” She reached for Maggie’s hand and guided it away. “I think they’re pretty.”

“Uh—I, um—Thank you, but—”

“I didn’t say anything before because… I felt weird, I guess, but I really wish you wouldn’t.”

Maggie glanced all around, anxious, but she didn’t take her hand back. “C-Candice, that’s really nice of—”

She went completely still as Candice reached up to cup the flower she tried to hide. The petals were soft, and a little waxy. It was too high up for her to smell, but maybe if she got on her toes—

“What is going on out here?”

Maggie snapped upright. The dryad cashier was back with the twisted tassel, looking as shocked and appalled as a tree could get. Before Candice could explain, Maggie snatched the pot out of the cashier’s hands and shoved down to her. She stumbled back—but it was much lighter.

“I’m so—we’re so sorry,” Maggie stammered, already shuffling toward the exit. “She’s still learning about, uh, dryad things—”

“If you want to teach her that, wait until next spring and save it for the rooting area. Please.”

“Th-that’s what I was about to tell her! Thanks, goodbye!”

And then Maggie dragged her full-speed out of the plant nursery by the crook of her arm. She didn’t settle for just being out of the building—she dragged them down the street and into an alley between houses. That one flower was closed up tight. Candice felt less confused and more like she’d fucked up. Big time.

That cashier was almost as horrified as she was to be attacked by the assassin daisy. Was flowering out of season rude? Was it really impolite to touch someone else’s flowers? That would make sense, it was a part of someone else’s body after all. Maggie seemed more bothered by Candice touching her than the other dryads telling her to close her flowers, too. Standing awkwardly in the alley, her stomach sank.

“Are you okay?” Candice asked, not knowing what else to say.

“I—I think so? I’m fine,” Maggie stammered. She stared right at the ground. “I’ll be fine, it’s not a big—”

“No, stop.” Candice sighed and put her plant on the ground. “I didn’t mean to—I thought I was helping. You seemed so upset when that one person told you to close up, and it seems like it stresses you out a lot, so I thought…” She circled her hands, searching for an explanation, but quickly gave up. “I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s a little embarrassing, but—”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you. I wasn’t thinking, and I made you look rude in front of everybody. I didn’t mean to, but I still messed up. I’m sorry.”

Maggie slowly looked up. “Rude?”

“Yeah? Isn’t that why everyone was upset?”

“Not… exactly.” Her bark creaked, the dryad equivalent of a sigh. “I should have told you what it meant before now. It is sort of rude for me to flower in public, but it’s not offensive or anything it’s—indecent.”

Her heart did a little nervous kick. “Indecent how?”

Maggie diligently refused eye contact as she explained, “Dryads don’t reproduce like unrooted creatures do. It happens in the spring, when we get pollinated. Our pollinated flowers turn into fruits, and planting a dryad’s fruit is how more of us are ‘born.’ In that way, all our flowers are like your… sex organs.”

Candice put her hands over her mouth. “Oh Gods.”

“So when I flower in public it’s pretty embarrassing, but, uh, touching it—”

“Oh Gods, I’m so sorry.” Her face burned too bright to hide, but she did her best. “Maggie, I’m so, so sorry, I can’t believe I just—”

“Please don’t feel bad! It’s my fault, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to know how much I want you all the time and—” She broke off with an anxious creak.

Candice peeked between her fingers. “What?”

Maggie stood perfectly still, as if she would turn invisible and the conversation would disappear. As the rest of her statement sunk in, Candice realized Maggie had been flowering for almost the entire time they’d known each other. She slowly lowered her hands from her face.

“I didn’t know dryads could have… urges,” she said, and it was true. If she had known, she might have brought it up sooner.

“Yep,” Maggie squeaked.

A different kind of heat flushed her body and pooled in her lower back. “How about this: I still feel really bad for having accidental flower sex with you.” It broke the tension, finally, and they both laughed. Candice reached out for one of Maggie’s gnarled-branch hands, running her thumb across the bark. “If you like, we can have flower sex on purpose. To make up for it.”

Three different blossoms burst open on her head. She didn’t make a single move to hide them. “Really? You want to?”

“I want to try, at least? I don’t really know what dryad sex is like.”

“I don’t know what human sex is like either.”

“Cool, so we’ll both be learning things.” Candice reached for her other hand. “Your place is definitely closer, soooo…?”

She nodded so vigorously that a couple of her leaves fell off. “Yes! Yes, it’s this way.”

Candice barely remembered to pick up her twisted tassel before Maggie raced off down the maze-like streets. She was really excited, not that Candice could blame her if she’d been waiting around all this time. And Candice was too, if apprehensive. Not only had she never had sex with a dryad before, she hadn’t been in a sexual situation with another human in ages. Unless she counted herself, which felt like cheating.

Still, her body reacted where her mind faltered. Since the promise of affection had been raised, she hadn’t been able to stop her heart from racing. The heat in her cheeks hadn’t left and neither had her growing arousal. She was glad she’d stopped tucking years ago, because her hardening clit would have made it very uncomfortable.

They arrived at Maggie’s place quick. She didn’t waste any time opening the door and inviting her inside, and Candice obliged just as fast. Maggie clapped and fairy lights leapt into enchanted lanterns lining the walls, washing them with a soft yellow glow.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, gesturing out vaguely. “Oh! I should—do something.” As fast as they arrived, she rushed into a different room.

“Don’t stress yourself out,” Candice called after her, setting her plant by the front door. She knelt down to unlace her boots, scanning the room as she did.

The twisted tassel would have plenty of company. Maggie’s home matched the trends of the other buildings: covered in plants and exceptionally tall. Disregarding the height, the place was small, with one huge living space and only two additional rooms. Most of the decorations were plants, blooming in all colors, creeping up the walls, or across the floor. There were a few shelves and tables free of vegetation, holding books or picture frames. In the center of the living space, there was a big comfy looking couch and low tables on either side. In the corner near a window, the floor was entirely ripped out. The exposed soil looked like the roads—churned up by roots, like it was used often. A nightstand with a few drawers rested against the wall nearby.

“I’m back!” Maggie said, somehow sounding breathless. She had a fistful of stones in one hand and a parrot-sized gargoyle in the other arm. It chomped down on her bark, to no effect.

“Who’s this?” Candice asked, making her way across the room.

“This is Feldspar. It’s cranky because I woke it up.” She hefted the stone animal in her arm and ushered it to another room. “I just want to get it set up in the library, so it won’t, uh, interrupt.”

“Wait, you have a library?”

“It’s nothing crazy!” She came back out, free of her passenger, and shut the door. “I’ll show you… another time? Or later?”

“Yeah, later is fine.” Candice stepped a little closer, her heart in her mouth. “So, uh, how are we doing this?”

“Right. So. I sleep in the corner over there, so I have this.” Maggie gestured at the couch. “I keep this for unrooted guests, and I can unfold it for more space.”

“Sure, that works.”

She went over to the couch and pressed a button on the side. The whole thing sparkled and popped into a fold-out bed. Candice waddled over and sat down, blood thumping in her ears. Maggie sat next to her. They looked at each other.

“What do humans do first?” she asked. A few more flowers bloomed among her branches.

“It depends,” Candice answered, scooting closer. “Do you know what a kiss is?”

“I’ve seen them. I don’t know if…” She gestured at her mouthless face.

“It’s worth a shot, though. Right?”

She nodded, so Candice made the first move. She reached up and cupped her face, all braided branches and shiny amber eyes. They closed the distance together, Candice planting a kiss where Maggie’s lips would have been. The rough bark scratched against her. It tasted like wood. They pulled back and looked at each other again.

“Did you,” Candice asked, “get anything out of that?”

Maggie shook her head apologetically. “Not really.”

“Okay, scratch that off. How about touching?”

“Most of my sensation is up here.” She pointed at her crown of branches. “But I know yours is everywhere, right?”

“More or less.” Candice reached for the hem of her shirt. “I can take this stuff off and we’ll go from there?”

“Y-yeah, okay. If you—if you want.”

Candice stood up, smiling into her chest. Maggie knew enough about human sex to understand that part. She peeled her shirt off and dropped it to the ground, then unclipped her bra to let her breasts swing free. Maggie reached out shyly.

“Can I…?” she asked.

Candice stalled at the button of her pants. She redirected to take Maggie’s cautious hand and press it to her stomach. “Go ahead.”

Her bark creaked in a way that sounded a bit like a human whimper. Her branchy fingers skidded across her skin, over her soft belly and up her sides. Candice held her arms in the air to give her room to explore, flushing. The rough touch of bark felt weird on her mouth, but against her body, it felt nicer than she expected. Like a pumice stone or rough brush, Maggie’s hands dragged across her skin with a comfortable scrape.

“These are more sensitive,” she said, guiding her up.

Maggie cupped her breasts, and she sighed hotly. She flicked her amber gaze up and down, working her way up to massaging them in her coarse hands. Candice put her arms behind her head and threaded her fingers through her hair, biting her bottom lip. It felt a lot nicer than she expected.

“Is this okay?” Maggie asked, keeping up her work.

“Yeah, yes,” she breathed. “Can I do something for you?”

Her hands stuttered. “Uh, my… my leaves?”

Now that she was sitting down, Candice was face to face with her leaves and flowers. As enticing as the flowers looked, she started with a leaf first. Maggie creaked as she ran her fingers over the wide, oval expanse. The dark green top was smooth and leathery, contrasted by the rough, yellowish underside. Candice pinched it at the base with one hand and used the other to run down the center of the blade, all the way to its tip.

“C-Ca—” Maggie stammered.

“Is that a good sound?” she asked.

She nodded. “Y-yes, it’s good.”

Encouraged, Candice hopped to the next nearest leaf. She traced her fingers across it, feeling it up like she’d feel a human’s body. She pinched and dragged some more, smoothed it with her thumbs, followed the path of the veins. Maggie made more creaky-whimpers as she had her leaves fondled, hands slipping from Candice’s chest to wrap around her waist.

It didn’t phase her. Enthralled in her work, she switched leaves when Maggie’s voice tapered off, revving her back up again with a fresh caress. The only thing that slowed her down was the flowers.

Maggie opened so many new blossoms, Candice was worried she’d run out of leaves. Her fingers already brushed the sides of petals on her search. They bumped against flowers as she stroked and touched the leaves. The air smelled light and lemony, sweet and enticing, begging to be noticed. And Candice definitely noticed.

They weren’t in public anymore. They were here to have sex. She could touch them now. She wanted to touch them even more, knowing what they really meant. So she did.

Candice cupped the nearest flower in both hands, cradling the petals in her palms. Maggie shook, branches trembling, and warbled a moan through her enchanted voice, bark squeaking even louder. Candice couldn’t help but smile, bending down to sniff. The citrus was even more powerful this close.

“You smell nice,” she said.

“Th-thanks,” Maggie shuddered. She lifted her head, eyes shining desperately. “C-can we—I need to—”

“Yes, I want to.” Candice dropped her hands to cup her face. “Just tell me what to do.”

“O-okay. I have to get something.”

She stood up and Candice felt a little proud to see her wobbling. She went to the corner of the room with the ripped-up floor—her “bed”—and dug around in one of the drawers. When she came back, she had what looked like a rubber glove with tiny brushes on the finger pads.

“This is a pollination toy,” she explained. “It’s not safe to touch the carpels or stamens with your hands, so you can use this instead. It feels like a pollinator, but it doesn’t actually carry pollen.”

“That’s a good idea.” Candice took the glove and pulled it on. It was a little big at first, but an enchantment shrunk it down to fit snugly around her hand. “Like this?”

Maggie stared blatantly at the fingertips of the glove. “Mhm…”

She smiled a little, showing it off. “I can’t reach you up there.”

“Oh! Right! Let’s, uh, lie down?”

They scooted onto the fold-out bed together, until Maggie was on her back and Candice sat by her head. There were dozens of flowers open on her branches now, each with its petals spread invitingly and curly carpels lifting toward the sky. Candice held a gloved finger over one, suddenly aware of how fragile they must be.

“Let me know if I do too much,” she said. And lowered her hand.

The instant the brush touched her carpels, Maggie made a long creaking sound. Candice rubbed it in a gentle circle, hoping treating it like human genitals wasn’t too far off. The branches under the flower rustled and Maggie creaked again.

“Good,” she moaned. “Good, good, feels good.”

Candice nodded, relieved she was doing something right. Experimentally, she used her thumb and index finger to brush the sides, among the dozens of stamens. Maggie squeaked, body twitching underneath her.

“Bad?” she asked, backing off preemptively.

“N-no, no it’s good.” She wiggled a little. “Please, it’s good.”

She went back to what she was doing, stroking the whole center. At the very top, she tickled the carpels with her finger, and slid back down. It made Maggie creak-moan again, so she kept it up. It did feel a bit like playing with someone’s clit, teasing it over and over. The petals were easy enough to imagine as soft folds to push through to get to her sweet flower-pussy.

“C-can you switch?” Maggie stammered.

“Switch flowers?” Candice asked.

“Mhmm. It feels good to switch a lot.”

“Gotcha.”

Candice gave the flower one final tease and dragged her fingers to one next to it. Now in the right mindset, she brushed the carpels in tiny circles, fucking her gently like she asked. This flower was just as sensitive as the last, Maggie creaking for each little brush. She rubbed the stamens with her thumb, spanning her other fingers wide across the inside of the flower.

“O-oh fuck,” Maggie moaned, and Candice almost jumped.

“Did you just swear?”

She covered her face with her hands. “S-shut up, you made me.”

Candice had to pull her hand away so she could laugh. “It’s not a bad thing! I’m proud of myself for that.”

Maggie uncovered her face, reaching for her leg. “Can you try again?”

“You can count on it.”

She got back to work on a third flower. Like before, she teased and circled the carpels, stroked the stamens, but added brushing the petals to her repertoire. It was even easier to continue her personal metaphor, listening to Maggie moan as she rubbed her flower-clit and fingered her flower-pussy. Before she reached her peak, she jumped to a different flower, starting fresh in a new cunt. The broken sound Maggie made with her bark made her gut twist itself in horny knots.

Candice twirled around the base of the carpels and stamens, teasing it before using all five fingers to stroke it to the top. Maggie arched off the bed, branches trembling in ecstasy. Candice tried to keep her there, fucking this one a little rougher. Careful not to damage her delicate flower-pussy, she flicked the carpals, raked her fingers along the petals, pressed into her stamens hard. Maggie trembled harder, moaning crazily. Candice smiled to herself, imagining the flower was a leaking hole. A sweet, aching cunt, sticky and wet from her fucking and desperate for more.

“C-Candice—” Maggie sobbed, clamping down on her leg.

“Are you—” she started to ask, but completely forgot what she was going to say.

All down Maggie’s body, she leaked sticky amber tree sap. Her face, her arms, her torso, her legs, all of it oozing through cracks in her bark and dripping down her slender frame.

“Gods, are you serious?” Candice breathed. She wished she had taken her pants off earlier, clit leaking pre-cum freely.

Maggie nodded, creaking out a whimper. “M-more.”

It was impossible to resist that.

Candice used her pinky to fuck one flower, and stretched her hand as far as it could go. She just barely planted her thumb in the center of another, and did the best she could to fuck two at once. Maggie shook and moaned, and—fuck, she leaked more sap. A huge glob pushed through her cheek, glistening as it slid across her face. Unable to resist, Candice bent down and sucked it off.

They both moaned that time. The sap was sticky and thick and tasted as citrus-sweet as her flowers smelled. Candice jumped to another pair of flowers, this time close enough that she could fuck them both without stretching too much. She used her free fingers to tease her petals, and kissed another glob of sap off her face. A sticky, glistening Maggie writhed, spreading her sweet wetness all over the cushion. Candice whined and slid down to lick some off her neck.

“You taste so good,” she whispered, her tongue thick and sticky.

“H-haa-a—”

Candice worked double-time on her flowers. She fucked at least two at any time, using her other fingers to stroke the curve of her petals. When three flowers lined up close enough, she fucked all of them, using her middle finger as the point of the triangle. She wasn’t sure if Maggie could come, or if the sap was her coming, but she hadn’t been told to stop yet, so she kept it up.

Gods, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to—watching her whole body leak was so sexy it made her wonder why they hadn’t fucked months ago. The only thing keeping Candice from licking her up from head to toe was that she knew Maggie wanted her flower-pussy railed. She needed to be fucked in her dozens of cunts, needed every one of her clits teased until she screamed, she needed Candice to fuck her so bad she was begging for it in public.

So she fucked Maggie hard. She fingered the curve of every petal she could reach, flicked her carpals, rubbed her stamens, she fucked each flower like it was its own sopping wet pussy. And in a way, it was. As Candice fucked her a dozen times, she moaned brokenly, trembled with lust, and drooled sap across every inch of her body.

When Candice lost track of which flowers she’d fucked and which were neglected, Maggie grabbed her arm and pushed it aside. Even her hands were sticky with sap.

“You okay?” Candice asked.

“D-done,” she stammered.

“Done it is.”

Candice peeled off the glove and set it on the arm of the couch. She turned back and admired the mess Maggie was, laying in a shallow pool of her own sap, and still covered in it. She laid down, propping her head up on her folded arm so her hair wouldn’t get caught in the sap.

“Did I do a good job?” she asked.

“Mhm,” Maggie mumbled. Her eyes were dim with exhaustion. “Much better than bees.”

Candice smiled softly, reaching out to swipe her sticky cheek. “Does this stuff just happen, or is this your version of an orgasm?”

“What’s orgasm?”

Well, that answered that question. Candice licked the sap off her fingers. “I can show you what mine is. Or we can do it another time, I get it if you’re too tired.”

She grabbed her hand with a sticky branch. “No, no, I wanna see.”

“Okay, I’m going!”

Candice flopped onto her back and finally, finally, wiggled her pants off. She kicked them over the couch, shivering as the air rushed over her naked body. As predicted, her clit leaked pre-cum at a steady rate. Her pubes were sticky, and so were her inner thighs, all coated in a thin layer of her wetness. Her clit was soft, too, as her erections had been short lived for years, a warm bundle of sensitive skin. She breathed, trying to relax.

“There are a lot of different ways to do human sex,” she explained. “It just depends on what you like to do, and who you like to do it with.”

“What do you like?” Maggie asked.

She opened her mouth to explain, then thought better of it. “I’ll show you.”

Candice sat up and leaned against the arm of the couch. She spread her legs, a blush rising to her cheeks again, but she swallowed it down. Maggie rolled onto her side to see better, watching with genuine curiosity. She swallowed.

“So, I guess I should tell you all the parts. This is my clit, or clitoris.” She picked it up, cradling it in her hand. “There are other words for it, but mine is a clit. It’s my main pleasure-thing, and it’s also where the uh… seed comes out.”

“Like a stamen?”

“Yeah, sort of.” She flipped her clit up to lay on her stomach, and cupped her sack next. “These are… there’s not really a sexy way to say it, they’re balls. Testicles. This is where the cum—the seed is stored, before it comes out. I don’t really use them for that, though.” She curved her fingers around the round shape of one ball. “Instead, I do this.”

Candice could do this easily, but went slow for the benefit of her audience. She pushed the testicle inside her sack up inside itself, gently pressing it up and folding it inside. Like a pocket turned inside out, she pushed the testicle and then her sack back into her inguinal canal, and sighed at the familiar feeling of being full of herself. She followed it with her fingers, pressing up into the inguinal ring—into one of her cunts. She kept her thumb against the bulge of her testicle in her abdomen, keeping it in place.

“Like this,” she breathed, almost forgetting to speak.

“What does it feel like?” Maggie asked, creeping forward to get a closer look.

“I think it feels good.” Candice used her other hand to form her other cunt, much faster for the sake of getting it done. She whimpered a little. “Feels… full and warm.”

“What do you do now?”

She laughed breathily. “Well, now, I fuck myself.”

Candice gently rubbed her fingers around in her cunts, against the entrances of the tight rings. She shuddered and sighed, treating herself like she just treated Maggie. Soft, but firm. A delicate touch, but still a fuck. Luckily for her, her cunts were not as delicate as a flower. She moved her fingers in and out, properly fucking herself from both sides.

Maggie watched her finger her cunts with rapt attention. Most of her flowers had closed, exhausted from their fucking, but a few remained open. Candice watched Maggie watch her, and her legs spread wider on instinct. She wanted her to see, to learn about human fucking just like she’d learned about dryad fucking.

She fucked a little faster, pausing with one hand to give herself more room. With one hand, she fucked her cunt, in and out, fingering herself until she whimpered and bit her lip. With the other, she massaged the entrance, her inside walls, the bulge in her stomach. Candice squirmed for her own touch, fucking and caressing both. She fingered herself as deep as she could and moaned, curling her toes on the couch. Her clit leaked freely over her stomach, pre-cum sliding down her body like Maggie’s sap.

“Can I try?” Maggie asked, scooting even closer.

“S-sure,” she breathed. “You might n-need to clean off the sap first.”

With a wave of her hand and a magical shimmer, the mess of sap evaporated from the couch and from Maggie, leaving them both spotless. Candice was a little disappointed, but that wasn’t important. She clenched her stomach, like she did when she used to tuck, and took one of her hands out. Maggie scooted forward, staring down at her crotch like it were as delicate as her petals.

“Gimme your hand,” Candice said. Maggie placed her fingers into her palm. The ends of her fingers were blunt, like sticks that had been snapped off at the end. No pointy bits, good sign. The wood might be rough, but she already liked that. “I’m going to put you inside me, okay?”

“Do I need to be careful?”

“Generally, yeah. I’ll let you know if something hurts.”

Her fingers were so thin that Candice easily guided three of them inside her with barely a stretch. The wood was scratchy, especially on such a sensitive area, but when it grazed her skin it felt good. Good enough to have her chest heaving, eyelashes fluttering, and Maggie staring at her.

“What now?” she asked.

“You can move,” Candice managed, “if you want. Or you can just rub it around. Both are good. And I’ll do mine.”

She nodded and Candice went back to fucking herself. Without the barrier of her own hand, she could pull out farther and fuck herself deeper. She groaned for herself, and then gasped. Maggie’s fingers ground against the inside of her cunt as she moved them out slowly. She pushed them back, another gentle scratch against the most sensitive parts of her. Candice whimpered.

“Does it hurt?” Maggie asked, sounding worried.

“Not enough that I want you to stop,” she replied. “Keep going, please.”

She obliged, fingering her cunt gently. Candice, on the other hand, fucked her other cunt with all the pent up arousal she’d been stewing in. She pressed against her walls, circled the tight ring of her entrance, pressed her fingers up as high as she could. It was contrasting erotic torture the way Maggie carefully made love to her. The wood of her branches felt like a rough, raw fuck, but her gentle press was anything but rough. Maggie pressed into her slow and deep, and pulled out so carefully that she felt every inch leave her cunt. It made her legs tremble, and she needed more.

Candice used her free hand to rub her leaking clit, stroking it as fast as she fucked herself. She whimpered, hot and wet and aching, chasing her climax with reckless abandon. Maggie pressed her fingers in so deep—she bucked her hips and moaned.

“More, more, keep going,” she begged.

“Can I do this too?” Maggie asked, pointing at her clit.

Candice just nodded and she got the hint. Maggie wrapped her hand around Candice’s, and they stroked her soft clit together. It was slower than she wanted—it was agony—but she let it happen, too desperate to say no to anything. She fingered herself slower, too, matching pace with Maggie’s careful lovemaking.

Her whole body felt connected. The two of them fucking her cunts, sliding her wet clit in their hands, it tied all of her pleasure together into a tight knot at the base of her spine. Candice hung her mouth in a silent moan, watching the way they fucked her together, deliberate and deep. Her thighs quaked.

“Fuck,” she whispered, “Fuck, fuck, I’m close.”

“Close to what?”

Candice came with her mouth wide open, moaning and arching her back. Her clit spurted a little clear cum, throwing the glob onto her chest. After a moment of ecstasy, she relaxed and let her hands drop. Maggie followed her lead, pulling away.

“Th-that’s an orgasm,” Candice breathed.

“Oh,” she said. Another flower bloomed. “I liked it.”

She laughed a little. “Hey, me too.”

With a little help from magic, Candice cleaned up and readjusted herself. In the aftermath, they laid on the couch together, Maggie holding her close against her bark chest. Candice didn’t hear a heartbeat, laying where one would have been, but she smelled like lemons and wood. It was a good trade off.

“Sooo,” Candice started, “are we dating now, or what?”

Maggie hugged her. “I would like it if we were.”

She smiled. “Me too. I guess this is our first date, then.”

“Oh, I guess so.” She covered her face with a hand. “What an intense first date…”

“We can do something more relaxing next time. Like… take a nap or something.” Candice snuggled into her neck. “Starting now.”

Maggie laughed her creaky wooden laugh. “Goodnight, Candice.”

Candice smiled, closed her eyes, and dreamt of pretty white flowers.