Forest Fairytale (Patreon)

The morning for Barry Smith, a former U.S. Marine and now an avid hunter, didn’t begin with an alarm clock, nor even with the nagging of his wife Claudia that ‘you’ve been out all night again, you stink of booze and sweat,’ but with a sharp scent of pine hitting his nose as if someone had stuffed fir branches into it and left them there to rot.

He jerked, trying to breathe normally, but stopped when he realized he wasn’t in bed, but lying on cold ground, his back pressed against the trunk of a massive pine tree. The bark dug painfully into his shoulder blades. His head felt heavy, but not from what people call a hangover. No, this was a different kind of heaviness. More tangible?

— Ugh… damn… — Barry began, but immediately cut himself off when he heard that the voice coming out of his throat sounded… different?

He took a deep breath. Squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shake his head like a dog that had just climbed out of the water, but at that moment he heard a dull thud that echoed painfully through his skull, forcing him to stop the motion.

— AAH! — burst from his throat in a thin, almost girlish cry, sending chills down Barry’s spine as he tried to clutch his head.

But even that didn’t work… his hands didn’t obey him the way they used to.

— What the… what the… — finally lowering his gaze, Barry faltered

And simply froze…

Instead of his usual hairy male chest and big beer belly, there was clearly a woman’s chest, probably a C or maybe even a D cup, swaying distinctly, almost mockingly, in rhythm with his heavy breathing. The skin was smooth, almost porcelain, with a faint pink tint where the cold morning air had already nipped at it. Nipples the color of ripe raspberries stood stiff, as if demanding attention on their own.

— …no… — he exhaled, but his voice betrayed him again, slipping into that soft, feminine tone.

Barry sharply sucked in air and jerked backward, but his back immediately pressed into the rough bark, making him hiss in pain, while those two sensitive mounds on his chest shifted, brushing their nipples against the cool air, which instantly spread a strange warmth through his entire body.

— No… no, fuck… — he whispered, instinctively bringing his hands to his chest, as if trying to check whether this was real.

And the moment he did, another wave rushed through him. A different wave. A wave of some wild fear that spread instantly after his cold claws touched the delicate skin.

He froze. Again.

They were claws. Real bird claws, each about the size of a small human palm. He could feel every pore, every microscopic unevenness of the skin on his — now truly his — chest through them. The tips of the claws lightly scratched, leaving four thinnest white lines that immediately turned pink. From that touch, his nipples stiffened even more, and warmth spread through his body more clearly now, which he distinctly noticed had begun somewhere low in his abdomen and was now making his breathing falter.

He jerked again, hitting something below — his hunting rifle — and, strangely, he wasn’t even that surprised to see that he had done it with hooves. Thin, dark, clearly split, covered in short brown fur that faintly shimmered in the morning light.

— …no fucking way… — he breathed out, staring at them as if they might vanish any second.

They didn’t.

He tried to move one leg, and it came out wrong: the hoof didn’t obey the way a human foot should, let alone human toes. It slid against the rifle, scraping dully over the metal, and the sound made Barry’s entire back twitch.

Somewhere off to the side, a branch snapped softly.

Barry snapped his head toward the sound — too sharply. The antlers, whose existence he hadn’t even fully processed yet, struck the pine trunk with a dull thud.

— Ah, fuck! — burst out of him again, but…

But instead of the usual sounds of the forest — birds chirping, wild animals howling, trees creaking in the wind —

He heard… voices.

And they were speaking.

Speaking clearly and meaningfully, blending together as if he had suddenly found himself in some bizarre marketplace during a sale.

They were fragmented, rustling, clicking, sticking together into strange rhythms — words his brain at first refused to process, and then… suddenly began to understand.

— …w-what?.. — Barry exhaled, going still.

A thin, high, almost musical little voice, like the chime of a bell, sounded right above his head:

— You’re awake? Who are you? Are you our new mommy now?

— FUCK!.. — he gasped, lifting his head upward and immediately noticing a small bird — apparently the one that had just been perched on his antlers — flutter and hop away onto a nearby branch, flicking its tail in irritation.

— Rude… loud… — it chirped from there, tilting its head and staring at him with black, far-too-attentive eyes. — But you smell nice. You’ll be mommy. Mommy.

Barry froze, staring at it.

— …you… you just… — he swallowed, feeling his throat go dry. — Are you… talking to me right now?

The bird twitched a wing.

— Of course I am. You’re listening. — It hopped slightly on the branch. — Hey! Hey! Everyone! Come here! She’s awake!

That last word it delivered with such excitement, as if it had just announced a discovered treasure.

Barry felt blood rush to his cheeks. What the hell was happening? What mommy, he was… he was…

— No fucking way! — burst out of him as the realization hit harder than the pine trunk he’d already slammed his antlers into for the third time: he had become her. That very… thing he used to laugh about around the campfire.

Well, not “thing.” That’s what he called her in his head. To his friends, he’d told stories about a “forest nymph,” a “spirit of the woods,” a “horned bitch that drives men insane.”

Antlers — massive, like those of a fully grown stag in its prime. Instead of legs, thin deer limbs ending in neat black hooves that now trembled helplessly, trying to find footing on the damp pine needles. And instead of hands — bird claws, which now spasmed uselessly, trying to clench into something resembling a fist, but of course, failing.

And all of it on a female body of otherworldly beauty: eternally young, with perfectly smooth, delicate skin, long hair braided into two plaits, and a constant—no, itching—urge to seduce. To seduce every man and woman she encountered in the forest.

That story—damn it, just a story—Barry had made up himself. And yet, over the past ten years, he had told it at every campfire, to every newcomer in the group, to every drunk friend with such confidence that even he himself had sometimes started to believe he had really seen her… and even fooled around with her a couple of times.

The bird on the branch chirped louder, almost demanding:

— Hey! Hey! Mommy! Can you hear us? Mommy-mommy-mommy!

— I’ll fucking give you “mommy”… — Barry hissed through his teeth, trying to get up and find his new center of balance.

And that’s when things went truly to hell.

His body jerked upward… but not the way he expected. His hooves slipped on the pine needles, his tits swayed, his knees buckled, and just as he managed to rise slightly, he immediately collapsed back down onto the ground, painfully slamming his tailbone against a root.

— Ahh, fuck!.. — he gasped, reflexively jerking… and immediately struck the trunk with his antlers again, hearing the dull impact and feeling another burst of pain in his head.

— What the fuck is this shit?!.. — he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

— Can’t walk… can’t walk… — the bird chirped, no longer hiding its amusement. — New mommy is stupid!

— I’m not a mommy! — Barry snapped, opening his eyes sharply, ready to continue his tirade—but suddenly froze when he heard a strange sound, like a man’s voice, yet at the same time… muffled, blurred, as if it were coming through water.

— …Barry! Hey, Barry, where the fuck are you?!

Barry tried to make sense of the words, but they seemed to unravel in his mind, losing shape, turning into a strange, echoing noise. He heard the voice… recognized the intonation… but the meaning slipped away like water through his fingers.

— …Barry!..

— …where’d he…

— …watch your step, fuck…

He clenched his teeth, shut his eyes tight, trying to focus.

— J… Jack… — he forced out, but the sound came out wrong again. Soft, drawn-out, as if he wasn’t speaking but… exhaling.

The bird immediately perked up:

— Males! Males! They’re calling you! — it chirped, hopping excitedly. — Go! Go to them! Mommy must go!

— I’m not… — Barry began, but was cut off.

By the smell.

It hit him sharply, powerfully, drowning out all thought.

He could clearly sense them. All three of them: Jack Collins, his fellow serviceman, Mike Reed, his wife’s brother, and Tommy, the youngest—the one he had promised “the best hunt of his life” just yesterday.

His nipples tightened even more at once, as if an invisible warm finger had brushed over them, and a wave of heat rolled down from his chest to his lower belly, making his hips clench involuntarily.

— Ahhh… — a low, breathy moan slipped out, tinged with a faint, playful note that made Barry himself uneasy, and in that same instant a strange pink cloud formed in the air beside him, as if someone had exhaled sweet vape smoke scented with wild strawberry and musk, then slowly spread out, settling over the pine needles in a thin, shimmering frost.

The bird on the branch flapped its wings in delight.

— Ooo! Yes! Yes-yes-yes! Mommy is calling! Mommy wants!

— Shut up, you feathered freak! — Barry snapped, forcing himself up and staring into the distance, toward where the voices were coming from, at the same time trying to keep his balance on those cursed hooves—which felt like trying to walk in high heels for the first time.

— We’ll help! Yes! Yes! We’ll help mommy!

From the bushes, more voices were already emerging: small, rustling, excited. A squirrel with a fluffy tail leapt down from a branch and immediately scampered closer, sniffing eagerly.

— Ooo, new one! New mommy! Smells sweet-sweet! — it chattered, circling around his hooves. — You love me! Love me?! I love you! Yes-yes-yes! Want nuts?

The fluffy-tailed squirrel spun around him, almost brushing his hooves with its nose, inhaling rapidly as if it couldn’t get enough of his scent.

— Sweet! Sweet! You’re calling! — it squeaked, bouncing in place. — They’re coming! Fast! Must be pretty! Must be right!

— What do you mean “right”?.. — Barry exhaled, trying to step back, but instead took another step forward.

The hooves struck the ground a little more confidently.

The bird was no longer sitting still, but flitting from branch to branch, chirping excitedly:

— Back straight! Chest higher! Look! Look at them! They’re watching!

— I’m not going to… — Barry began, but the words died when he saw them.

The three of them were walking together, glancing around and saying something to each other, but Barry no longer made out the words—only felt the low, vibrating hum of male voices, sending hot waves down his spine. And that scent… the scent hit his nose like a shotgun blast at point-blank range.

He instinctively arched, bracing one hand against the tree and pushing his hips out to the side, making them seem even fuller. His tits began to swell as if being filled with hot water, growing with each passing second. The skin stretched tight, nipples jutting forward painfully, like small ripe berries on the verge of bursting from the tension.

Barry felt an unbearable heat and wetness between his legs, as if some hidden flower there had suddenly bloomed and immediately begun to drip with sweet nectar. He instinctively pressed his thighs together, trying to suppress the sensation, but only ended up pressing harder against his clit—and instantly arched his entire body, letting out a long, almost feline moan.

— A-ahhh… m-mmh… — he moaned, biting his lip and staring toward the approaching “targets.”

The bird on the branch practically bounced with excitement, flapping its wings:

— Yes! Yes-yes-yes! That’s it! Mommy is beautiful! Mommy lures! They can smell you already! Smell you!

The squirrel spun around his hooves, sniffing at the damp spot on the ground that was already glistening in the morning light:

— Sweeeet… so sweet… mommy’s dripping… mommy wants… I want too… me too!

Barry tried to kick it away, but instead only swayed his hips gracefully, no longer able to tear his gaze from the place where, in mere seconds, they would appear… the ones who would be her first. And the ones who would forget her, just like everyone else did after meeting her—because she… she was nothing more than a stupid story.