Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2013 00:17:16 +0000
From: Liam Dandelions <liamrunner1994@hotmail.com>
Subject: Tales from the Enchanted Forest - Part 6

Author's note: I haven't responded to everyone's emails about this series
and I apologize; I've read every message though. I'm grateful these little
stories are as appreciated as they are so please feel free to email me
anytime. Comments, suggestions and even requests are welcome!

--Liam

		 Tales From The Enchanted Forest - Part 6

Summer drew on for the house at the edge of the Forest; outside its walls,
everything green grew into its own fullness. Ponds swelled with spring
runoff and warmed in the sun, grasses reached high and turned in the hot
breezes like tides of the ocean. The six boys spent their days exploring
and playing games and lazing, each to his own manner.

The creatures of that same enchanted place continued their nightly visits,
driven by whatever hungers propelled them, and the boys in their pitchless,
ensorcelled slumbers continued to feed them. The caretaker of the house was
present again this dark eve when the creatures lowered themselves through
the windows and took their places beside each of the boys. The feral lad
was nearest, and the man stood silent as one of them approached.

Through the warm long days of summer, the feral boy's hair was longer yet,
still manicured in its savage style, the wide mohawk spiked some days with
honey to make it stand straight, other days allowed to flop over one side
like the mane of some beast.  Skittery and bouncing on the balls of his
feet, he would skirt through the meadows, playing tag with the other boys
who would swat him companionably away. He would smile, maybe yip, leap
beyond their reach, mineral eyes glinting, bound away, a deer bolting.
Only with the deaf boy was he truly approachable, one a shelter perhaps for
the other.

Dangling skinny-limbed off the branch of a tree, shirtless and adorned with
greased ink stripes across his face or down an arm, he would consent to be
painted by the deaf boy, who smiled and blushed at the red-haired oeuvre
d'art even when he knew the boy could see him. The feral would turn his
face into the sun, the light would catch his strawberry hair and ignite it
so that seen from afar he appeared a pale twig against the tossing greens
of the tree, hair aflame – a matchstick, lit and fierce. The deaf boy
signed a name at him: Firehead.

Here now he slept, all signs of daytime energy quieted but for the rise and
fall of his stomach as he breathed. The man watched as the creature lowered
itself with the precision of a spider working down a line of web. Motions
practiced and repeated on these teens and others before them, the feral's
loin covering lifted away, his soft boyhood steadied with sprig-like
fingers and drawn inside a dewy proboscis. He inhaled once, deeply, as the
fixed mouth tightened around his lengthening penis. Fingertips as delicate
as any legged insect cradled the heavy pink sac that drooped between his
legs, the downy hair covering each globe glittered in the moonlight. His
body gradually tensed, his penis was soon completely stiff, the boy's
signature bulbed crown plumped inside. This creature didn't care for
patiently milking as the others would before; this was a feeding borne of
famishment, ravenous and urgent. The teen slept profoundly and still;
inside the creature's tube his penis jumped and steadied. The boy's breaths
became shorter, his eyes made to squinch, over his lower belly, his penis
tensed like a wire; he burst inside, as they all did. The great proboscis
filled with the gouts of release – the creature not slurping the
pearlescent fluid away – holding it, savoring it? Who could
tell. Through the clot of it that collected and glutted the tube, the last
rapid spouts came, the boy sucking breath through his teeth before the
end. The succubus gulped and held the penis in its tubular mouth until it
had long gone soft.The caretaker's gaze shifted to the corner of the attic
and the bed beyond, its occupant and visitor blanketed in shadow. The boy
there was fifteen and had lived at the house for two years; lived, but not
quite lived. He was often aloof and quiet, an observer of the house and its
goings on, a reticent watcher of the boys and their world; attempts to coax
him to conversation or play produced feeble results.

His face was open though, with sharp cheeks and freckles that diminished
more with each passing season. His brown hair was grown into an unruly
thatch, the ends of which curled over his brow and concealed his ears. His
eyes were intense and gleaming. Soil-colored counterweights to his
withdrawn nature. In sleep, he lay inert and immovable, oblivious seeming
to the stimulations visited upon him during feedings. Only by observing the
accelerated rise and fall of his belly and the head of his penis as it
blushed and swelled inside the feeder could one guess that milkings were to
be successful at all. There was never any preamble to orgasm, no preceding
quickening of breath or tensing muscles – ejaculation occurred silently,
the boy unable to contain himself, his penis pouring milk like water tossed
from a bucket. Still, he was sucked and drained like all the boys, every
dribble of semen relished.For all the boys, the creatures and their
appointments always frenzied something in their bodies even while keeping
their sleeping minds still– they sighed and stretched limbs, grunted and
flexed stomachs, huffed and scrunched brows. Their consciousness lay
plunged in sleep deep as any gorge; their bodies exploded. One or two might
squeak during climax – a strangely animal sound, a suggestion of
vulnerability and power unleashed. The creatures fed intently, drawing
their sustenance from each boy in snowy-colored spits or drizzles.

Across the aisle from the feral boy, the deaf lad huffed. His succubi
adjusted its mouth; projected out over the boy's abdomen his penis was a
quilled spike, hardened as granite, a pale extension of his body held
clenched by both the magical creature and the very human responses a
teenage boy has to intense pleasure.

The proboscis tightened, twisted in an undulating corkscrew – the boy
panted. The creature tasted the first dribs of pre-cum and knew its meal
was near. It arranged muscles in its feeding appendage to prepare. Inside,
the penis reddened, the head began to flare. His ballsac drew closer, his
orgasm closer yet. The boy's exhalations came punctuated with grunts and
mono-syllable chuffs. He was breathing exclusively through his mouth now,
his stomach tensing and collapsing.  Awake, he was mute; asleep and
aroused, he spoke in primitive moans until his climax.

The creature's prehensile feeding tube squeezed and released, sent
vibrations and twirls down the shaft then back up, corkscrewing over the
head. The deaf boy froze, limbs stretched across bed sheets, his erection
flexed and a single long jet of cum fired from the tip in a stream – a
weaker flow of cream pushed forth, not far -- the boy grunted, another
generous rope, very white, blasted out like a freshly tapped reserve. The
boy settled back, released of pressure, his penis leaking into the
vacuuming tube.

Across the way, the small mousy teen lay rigid atop his mattress, every
thin muscle in his lanky-limbed body coiled – a spring about to
fire. The drawn out days of summer had heralded a separate but no less
dramatic growth in the boy – his feet were the first to hint at his
anticipative height and shortly after, his legs sported an impressive
lengthening that by mid-summer had added three inches of tallness to the
lad. He was still barely muscled, his chest and stomach were their same
pale hardness like bone and what little fat he might have been hiding had
been burned up in growing, but he was left less diminutive despite his
continued scrawniness. Between his legs, downy patches of dark hair, still
fur-like in appearance at his age, crowned a thickening penis and brimming
pink sack. His penis still retained its propensity for staggering firmness;
even now seeming to the caretaker to be piercing the straw-like mouth of
the attendant creature sucking over it. As the deaf boy grunted through his
ejaculation, the mousy boy could almost be thought to be choreographing his
own orgasm for at nearly the same instant one finished, the other
began. The boy's feet turned inward slightly and he inhaled through his
lips -- thin spouts of cloudy milk fired into the succubi's mouth, four
with a finish of watery dribbles – he was a growing teen this summer and
producing more boy's milk along with it.

The stillness of the room where before could only be heard the hushed
respirations of boys' slumber had given way to the spirited sounds of young
male arousal and stimulation.  The creatures shifted to accommodate
shuddering erections or spasming bellies, the graceful re-positioning of
their limbs rustled like blown leaves in autumn.

The string-bean youth with the raven colored hair still retained his
distinction as tallest of the boys although this was likely the last summer
he was to do so.  His body still looked more boy than man, all gangly
legged and sharp boned, feet like jointed flippers and hands whose long
knuckled fingers extending like sprigs on a tree. He had taken to sleeping
nude beneath his single summer bedsheet and as that gossamer covering had
already been peeled away, the boy lay sprawled and displayed in full before
man and creature alike.

The succubi had not yet begun preparing the teenager so for several
moments, the man could merely observe the lad as he slept. Ribs and wiry
muscled clefts gave his sides a cabled look, his stomach was so lean this
season as to appear almost concave until one noted the tightly cobbled
muscles arranged down the length. His belly button was flush with the rest,
merely a dimple. Far below were the curled clips of pubic hair that formed
a brow over his genitals; a pale soft penis flopped over peach-fuzz covered
balls. In a boy still looking to grow into his body, his sex organs had won
that race months ago. While still matching the pale fairness of the rest of
him, they appeared to have come from a similar but somehow larger boy
altogether.

The creature positioned itself over the boy, its arms straddled the
teenager's sides, closely holding its place; its protruding snout grasped
the head of the boy's still slack penis in its aperture and worked its way
down the shaft until it had swallowed the organ whole. His penis was pulled
straight over the abdomen and inside, the powerful business of arousal
began. The succubi worked its proboscis like a jellyfish propelling through
water – it formed a tunnel of muscled tissue extending the length of the
shaft with a ringed bell over the head. Initial activity worked to pull the
organ, tugging and holding to coax it ever longer, or stroking it from
inside through curious and inscrutable motions. In time, the deeply
unconscious boy's penis hardened and swelled, lengthening tremendously til
the tip seemed dotted from above by the naval. By opening and closing the
bell and tightening the muscled jelly of its protrusive mouth, the succubi
could contract and slide its feeder tube over the entirety of the erection,
all while the apertured ring remained gripped at the very base of the
shaft. The creature's extensible mouth had radial symmetry, allowing
stimulation to be focused around the circumference, creating sensations of
spinning, twisting, or licking. It was no accident that the sleep-entranced
boys reacted as powerfully as they did during these feedings.

And so it was that after several minutes of practiced manipulation, the
boy's stomach was heaving even while the rest of him lay clenched; his
penis the firmest yet, angled out and above, so stiff that flexes
registered only as pulses along the urethal duct. The boy began huffing
through his mouth like a long distance runner, his buttocks tightening and
releasing, his pelvis slowly rocking. The teenager's balls contracted
almost imperceptively. He suddenly locked, breath and body alike, the
muscles in his thighs shivering like a tuning fork.

They came as regular and swift as any arrow from a bow, stripes of cream
firing like some artery had been cut. Fluttering beneath their eyelids, the
caretaker could tell the teen's eyes were rolling. The boy slowly relaxed
as the creature gulped down a tube full of cum. Through the sounds of boys
panting, the man had missed the blonde boy being milked. He rose and walked
over near the bed where two creatures now attended the lad. All of the
creatures were unnaturally thin, spindly almost, but the two besetting the
blonde teen were leaner still, appearing emaciated. The man did not recall
ever seeing the like here before. Already something peculiar had
occurred. The boy's breathing was settling; in the moonlight, his torso
glistened. Peering closer, the man saw ropes of semen spun out in chalky
strings over belly and chest with each creature carefully suctioning the
precious fluid from the teen's smooth skin. The boy's slackening erection
twitched and a fresh drib of cream appeared at the tip -- one of the
succubi gently lapped the head with its feeder and sipped it away. The
creatures had induced orgasm outside of their proboscis mouths, made the
boy shoot his ejaculation over his body which they then cleaned
meticulously, sharing the bounty. When they had finished washing every
shimmering trail and spatter of milk from the boy's skin, the creatures
rose from their crouches and scanned the room hungrily.

The others had commenced their feeding and were clearly preparing to
leave. The boys had been dressed and re-covered in preparation. The
starved-looking creatures hesitated, chittered softly to each other, but
left with the others.  The man retired for the night, swung the attic door
shut behind him and returned to his bedchamber. Sometime later in the
silent gloom he awoke with a start, recalling that he hadn't retrieved his
recompense from the front stoop and making his way toward the door, heard a
muffled thump from the floor above – what sounded too like a
moan. Curious, he hurried back to the attic.

The boys lay asleep and bewitched, their sheets and loin-coverings removed,
two still panting. Attached to the stiffened penis of the deaf boy, one
skeletal succubi slurped a final glob of cloudy fluid up its proboscis and
into its guzzling maw. Its equally ravenous companion strode from the
bedside of the firehaired feral teen and settled next to another naked
boy. The two half-starved succubi had returned to complete their feed.

The man did not know what to make of this. It seemed dangerous, some
protocol in their arrangement was being broken but the man could not
pinpoint precisely what. Once finished with the deaf boy, the creature
strode purposely toward the man and carefully, but with a strength which
was nonetheless unnerving for all its poise, pushed the caretaker back
towards the door. Its intention was clear. The succubi tilted its head and
peered at the man with its glossy ink-colored eyes, and slowly closed the
door between them. The man stood flummoxed and with considerable unease,
retreated to his room for the remainder of the night. He got little sleep,
listening instead to the infrequent shuffles, grunts and squeaks issuing
from the space above; proof of the creatures' persistence this long night.
Nearing sunrise, the man approached the attic again only to be greeted at
the door as he approached by one of the creatures. It produced a large bag
of coins which it pressed into the man's palm, bowed its head and turned to
leave for a second time that night. The man observed clearly the creature's
profile in the dim light and the modest distension of the supernatural
beast's stomach. In the room beyond, the boys slept disheveled from their
trials, some still with moist brows and lank hair falling across their
eyes.

The man knew enough to be troubled: the old arrangement ensured that
feedings would not perilously deplete the boys; he hoped this would be an
aberration, a singular event borne from desperate hunger and not to be
repeated. The man could only wait to see if his concerns were unfounded.