Finale: A Cycle of Corruption

NSFW Warning: Graphic sexual content including scenes of mind-control and rape, as well as language and fantasy violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own the cover image.

*Here follows the seventh and final part of the Forest Mother Saga. Please go back and read parts one through six located under the “Forest Mother Saga” tab on the right sidebar, or at the bottom of the page if you’re reading on the mobile version. Otherwise, though I hope you still enjoy this part, it will most likely make little sense. Also, I have placed a link to my Buy Me A Coffee page on the main page as well as here: If you are able to make an offering to this fevered mind of mine it would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!*

“Come to me, sweet child. Come. Drink of my font, nourish yourself at my stream.”

Leeria was unsure anymore if the words were being conveyed to her consciousness via her ears, or directly sent to her mind. She no longer wandered aimless, nor feared losing her way. There was only one path for her now, the path to the Forest Mother, and her feet guided her with a surety her mind could not match. 

“Come to me. Kneel at my altar. Sip of my wine.”

“I’m coming…,” the Ranger muttered, if to herself or the Mother she was not sure. Stumbling slightly, she came to a place where the cavern floor began to rise. Looking up, she saw a wide gash in the foliage above her. Fleshy growths of fungi ringed its perimeter, as well as the walls of the cavern leading to it, and everything was covered by a glassy sheen, as though just misted with a fresh spray of thick, sticky dew.

“Come to me, child, be born into my embrace.”

As the Forest Mother spoke, the fleshy fungi seemed to vibrate and hum, sending flecks of their sticky dew cascading into the air. 

Standing as she was so close, Leeria felt droplets splatter her face and body. Licking her lips, she found the flavor to be both sweet and salty, not dissimilar to the heady flavor of a woman’s cum. As soon as the dew touched her tongue, an overpowering thrill of pleasure rushed through her veins. Unable to contain herself, she cried aloud in unrestrained ecstasy. Crumpling to the cavern floor, she curled in on herself as the waves of orgasm swept through her, leaving her gasping for breath in their wake.

For a long moment to stayed there, huddled against the warm membrane of the cavern floor, trying desperately to regain her consciousness from the pleasure that sought to command it.

“Fucking bitch,” she stammered at last, rising unsteadily to her feet, her facial muscles twitching as small trills of pleasure occasionally stung her. Lifting her gaze once more towards the gash, she set her stride determinedly, if somewhat precariously, upon the cavern’s slope.

As she neared the folds framing the gash, she heard a whimpering coming from the other side. Pausing, she cocked her head, her blade held purposefully before her as she listened.

“Forest Mother hear my plea, take this pain away from me.”

Leeria’s stomach twisted as the voice was unmistakable.

“Forest Mother show me kindness, so that I might better serve your highness.”

Pushing her way through the moist, sticky, fleshy folds of fungi, the Ranger stepped out onto a soft bed of grass upon the other side. Looking about, she saw that she now stood in the bowl of a rocky dell. Several towering, ancient trees sprouted from rocky ridges, their canopies forming an almost impenetrable ceiling above. Off to the right, a small spring gurgled soothingly and, from above, a soft, yet constant, cascade of leaves descended. Near the bubbling brook, the Sapphire Sister was huddled on her knees, her vine-like arm cradled to her chest as she gently rocked.

“Forest Mother hear my plea, heal this pain she gave to me.”

At that moment, from the dell’s far side, a swarm of butterflies took flight from the foliage. So sudden was the action that Leeria instinctively readied her sword, her eyes darting to and fro in an effort to spot a potential attack.

In response to her actions, a soft, girlish giggle emanated through the dell and, as the butterflies dispersed to the canopy above, there appeared at the glade’s center the Forest Mother.

Despite herself, Leeria gasped at the sight of the being she sought, she who had haunted her since she had first arrived at the Weeping Willow Inn. True to the apparitions she had seen thus far, she knew that what stood before her now was no specter or illusion. She was real. From her green, healthy skin, to her lush locks of flower petals, to her voluptuous bosom. She gazed at the Ranger now, her eyes piercing as they roved over the woman’s naked physique, before looking her directly in the eye, a small smile of approval curving her luscious lips.

“Oh yes, you will do,” she crooned, moving towards the Ranger with light steps that never seemed to touch the grass beneath them. As she moved, Leeria saw long, thick vines attaching her to the canopy above her, like the strings of a marionette. 

“You can’t leave this grove, can you?” The Ranger said, realization dawning on her. 

The Forest Mother paused midstep as she considered the remark. Turning slightly, she grasped one of the vines, caressing its length with her long fingers. The touch was loving but there was a flicker of distaste on the spirit’s features before she turned back to face the Ranger fully.

“It is my prison,” she acknowledged. “But also my home. These trees are my sires. Their love, my love, their anger, my anger.”

The last words were spoken with such venom that Leeria took an unconscious step backward. Steeling herself, she stepped forward once more, determined not to show the creature fear.

“You are a Dryad,” she said. “What twisted you? You are meant to protect the woodlands, protect your grove. Yet suffering permeates this forest, suffering doled out by your hand.”

The Forest Mother sniggered at the accusation. 

“So simple, your convictions,” she smiled superciliously. “I am spreading life, joy, passion. These creatures have wanted this, I have unleashed it.”

“You perverted it! You have replaced pleasure with wonton desire!”

“You are not so puritan as to believe pleasure is only for procreation, my stalwart Ranger. That is merely a happy byproduct, when appropriate…”

“As with Bregansworth?”

“Our union was meant to be pure,” the Forest Mother turned to regard the Sapphire Sister, who remained prostrate beside the fountain throughout their dialogue, her lips pursed. 

Moving to kneel before her, the Mother cupped her face lovingly, though the force she used to turn her chin upward was anything but. Gazing with disdain into her daughter’s grief and pain-stricken visage, she roughly shoved her against the spring’s rocky side before turning to face Leeria again.

“Our children were stunted by his shame, corrupted by his guilt. It will be different with you. Together we shall create an army of forest defenders! Pure spirits!” 

Glancing down at the Sapphire Sister, reduced to the pitiful, mewling creature she now was, Leeria squared herself against the Forest Mother’s renewed approach. 

“It was you who twisted them,” she accused. “They are but reflections of the corruption within you. You bent an honorable man from his oath, turned the inhabitants of this wood into pleasure-crazed caricatures of themselves, I will never couple with you!”

Even as she spoke the words, as defiant as they were, she could not deny the yearning within her for the Forest Mother’s touch. It was powerful and difficult to cast aside as complete fabrication.

Setting her jaw, she turned back to her prior question, hoping against hope she could convince herself against any ill-advised course of action.

“What was it that twisted you?” She asked. “You were once a spirit of nature, a creature who delighted in healthy growth, not this stunted representation lying there,” she jabbed her sword point at the Saffire Sister. 

“You merely do not see my vision,” the Forest Mother reasoned. “I have been empowered to higher purpose.”

“Who empowered you?” 

As she spoke, Leeria moved away from the cavern’s opening and began to circle around the glade. If she could keep the creature talking long enough, perhaps she might devise a way to kill it. It was a long shot but the only one she yet had at her disposal.

“The Master,” the Forest Mother replied, savoring the words as she spoke them. “He came to me in my glade. Taught me the enjoyment of pleasure, the ecstasy of losing yourself in the touch of another. Oh, I fought him at first as I was not properly educated. Tried to force him from my grove with all the magic I possessed but I was but a mewling infant beside his might.”

The spirit closed her eyes as if savoring the memory. A tremor ran through her, shaking a new cascade of leaves from the canopy above.

“I will forever remember the first night he took me,” she continued, hugging herself. “It was painful, and it lasted for seeming eternity. I was helpless, held by his binding magics as he ravaged my virgin body over and over and over again. The next night was the same,” she lowered her arms, her visage darkening somewhat. “And the next and the next until…”

Her words drifted off and her expression became distant. After a long moment she continued, her gaze locking with Leeria’s once more. 

“In time I became accustomed to his touch, longed for it when he was away,” she continued. “He began feeding me his magic. One spoonful at a time as he took me in every way he could. I realized that he was gifting it to me, wanting me to become stronger than he was, why else would he give it so freely? And one day, I did. He came for me, in my cage, and I showed him what he had taught me. Oh, he must have been so proud at how I made him scream, as he had made me scream…over and over and over again…”

“What did you do with him? After you made him scream?” Leeria asked, transfixed by the spirit’s tale despite herself. 

“Oh, he remains here. I need his magic to feed my grove,” the Forest Mother replied matter-of-factly. With a wave of her hand, she indicated the largest of the trees, towering at the grove’s end across from the cavern’s exit, nearer now to the Ranger as she’d been attempting to circle away from the spirit’s advances.

At the Forest Mother’s indication there came a terrible grinding noise from the tree, causing the Ranger to spin from it and lift her sword. Upon beholding what was taking place, however, the point of her blade drooped back to earth, so engrossingly horrible was the sight.

Along the vertical center of the trunk a massive rift opened, the bark peeling back like a diseased wound. Within there became exposed a red, fleshy interior, pulsating like a beating heart. Cocooned in its depths was a man, his body wasted, and his flesh covered in a thick, glossy ooze. A multitude of tendrils had burrowed into him across the length of his body, most notably at his temples on either side of his head, as well as into the tip of his shriveled penis. As soon as he was exposed, his eyes opened wide, though, as they had rolled back into his skull, only the whites now showed. His toothless mouth gaped in a silent, gummy scream and his entire form convulsed in some unimaginable agony.

“Behold my Master,” the Forest Mother’s voice came from directly behind the Ranger and she immediately leaped to try and get away, but the spirit was faster. As soon as she moved, she felt the Forest Mother’s vicelike grip encase her bare shoulders.

“Behold and rejoice,” the perverted Dryad proclaimed, holding the Ranger tight. “For soon I will have consumed every last drop of his magic. His power will fully become mine and I will be able to step from this grove. The combined power will then be able to be passed to the children you and I shall birth, and our glory shall encompass the earth!”

The waves of desire cascaded down upon the Ranger from every corner of her mind. So overwhelming were they at first that she nearly succumbed. Nearly allowed herself to become enveloped in their embrace forever. 

“Release her!” 

The shouted demand shocked her back to reality, just as she was tossed unceremoniously to the ground. Landing flat on her face, the taste of grass and dirt filling her mouth, she scrambled to turn. Spitting gobs of earth from her mouth, she focused her eyes on the hunched figure of a man standing at the opening of the cavern, his armor hanging off of him in shambles and one of his hands gripped an open wound in his gut, dark blood oozing between his fingertips. This, however, did not stop him from, with his other hand, raising his wide-bladed sword to point directly at the Forest Mother. Bregansworth.

“You were slain by my new champion!” The spirit insisted, and though Leeria could not see her face, her demeanor reflected pure disbelief. 

“There was yet a spark left in me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Though, it would seem, that your averted gaze has gifted me back my senses.”

“Impossible,” the Forest Mother spat then, casting her gaze about, she spotted the Sapphire Sister near the pool. 

“Progeny!” She shouted. “Slay thine sire to regain your mother’s respect!”

Immediately, the Sapphire Sister leapt to her feet, her tear-streaked face twisting into a look of savage delight.

“To prove my measure shall be my pleasure,” she hissed, stalking towards the Knight, her vine-like appendage held aloft.

Turning to face his new opponent, Bregansworth’s features softened as much as his pain would allow.

“I am sorry, my daughter,” he said. “You are what you are because of me. If only the slaying of the sire could cleanse the child.”

When he spoke this last phrase, he cast a meaningful look at Leeria, just before his daughter lunged in and he was forced to lurch to deflect her attack.

Thankfully, the meaning of his words was not lost on the Ranger. Glancing at the Forest Mother, Leeria saw that she was thoroughly engrossed in the duel. Knowing that this was the opening she had been hoping for, she leapt to her feet and lifted her blade. Rather than lunge at the Forest Mother, however, she pivoted and launched her sword at the man nestled in anguish in the bosom of the grove’s largest tree.

As the blade arched through the air, time seemed to slow. Leeria watched it summersault once, twice, thrice. The canopy above seemed to part, and the light of the moon glinted off the length of the blade’s edge. She heard the battle cry of Bregansworth, cut short by the sickening crunch of the Sapphire Sister driving her weaponized appendage into his flesh. She felt the gaze of the Forest Mother fall back upon her, felt the heat of the stare, the widening of the eyes, just as the tip of the Ranger’s sword sunk into the chest of the man held within the tree.

There was no sound beyond the sickening, wet crunch as the blade struck home. Leeria watched the man’s body convulse, the tendrils attached to him pulsate, undulate as he enacted his death throes. After he had stopped twitching, the tendrils retracted, pulling themselves from his corpse as if he were a sausage. No blood was spilt, no ceremony held. Just leeches pulled from a body spent, and when they had gone, he was allowed to fall unhindered to the glade’s grasses with nary a thud, the tree slowly closing back in on itself in his absence.

Consternated by the silence behind her, Leeria turned to behold the Forest Mother slowly approaching the Sapphire Sister standing above the body of Bregansworth. Cupping her daughter’s hopeful face in a once more loving hand, the Forest Mother offered her a smile.

“Did I play my part?” The Sapphire Sister beseeched. “Did I gladden your heart?”

“You did, my love,” the Forest Mother cooed, caressing her daughter’s face before, suddenly, thrusting her fist into the younger Dryad’s breast. 

Despite herself, Leeria screamed, her hands involuntarily cupping themselves over her mouth as the Forest Mother withdrew her fist from her daughter’s chest, a dull, green light clenched within. Lifting her fist before the shocked face of her progeny, she smiled warmly before opening her palm and blowing a cloud of green dust, fast losing its luster, across the face of the Sapphire Sister. As the motes kissed her visage, the blue-haired dryad’s eyes rolled back and she toppled over, landing in an undignified heap beside the cavern’s opening.

Disregarding the body of her daughter, the Forest Mother then lowered herself gracefully to a kneeling position beside the prostrate form of Bregansworth. To Leeria’s surprise, she saw the man lift a hand to the spirit, and the spirit accept it into her own with loving care.

“Did I serve you well, my lady,” she heard the Knight croak.

“Yes,” the Forest Mother purred. “You have avenged your failures.”

A satisfied smile gracing his lips, Bregansworth drifted away, his hand falling limp in the Forest Mother’s embrace.

The glade fell silent and still, with naught but the gurgling stream and the falling of leaves to disturb its serenity.

“You did well, sweet child,” the Forest Mother said at last, rising from Bregansworth’s side to face Leeria once more, the vines that had connected her to the grove falling away like dried umbilical cords. “Now come, embrace your mother.”

Now faced fully by the spirit, the dell empty besides them, the Ranger felt anew the full force of the Dryad’s influence. Waves of desire flowed through her, and she stumbled back. 

“No!” She growled, defiant against the onslaught. 

“Come now, you’ve seen the evils wrought by uncertainty.”

“Bregansworth was yours all along?”

“Bregansworth knew what was right. Knew what had happened to me. Sadly, his puritan ideals warped our union, twisted our daughters. But he made up for it in the end, no?” She cast a sidelong look at the fallen knight. “He realized the error in his ways.”

“I will not bend to you!” Leeria shouted, though the weakness in her knees and the pulsating in her cunt said otherwise. 

“I need not have you bend,” the Forest Mother cooed, suddenly very close, her seeping breasts inches from the Ranger’s face.

“I but need you to drink. You and I together…we shall make a better world…”

Leeria felt herself drifting, saw images before her eyes that were not memories drawn from her own head. Images of a young Druid entering the grove and first meeting the Dryad who would become the Forest Mother. Saw their initial dialogues, how innocent and innocuous they were. Saw the Druid ask her to allow him to found his grove in her glade. Saw her hesitant no, there was something about him, something she didn’t fully trust despite their kindly talks. Saw him accept her answer graciously and depart in a friendly manner, felt her relief at his actions. Then there came the night, when the moon was full. The glade appeared healthier and the Dryad who would become the Forest Mother flitted to and fro, rejoicing in the moonlight. Then the Druid returned. He asked her once more to accept his offer. There was something in his eye. She once more refused him. He smiled. It was an evil smile. There was a bright light. In his hand he gripped a wood-carved phallus.

As Leeria saw the image of the artifact in her mind, she felt her own legs being spread. Felt herself being enveloped into the Forest Mother’s embrace. Felt the hardened flesh of the Forest Mother’s nipple slip between her lips, as the wooden phallus slipped between another set of lips entirely.

She moaned, moaned as the Forest Mother had that first night the Druid had taken her. Moaned against her will, a stolen moan, a moan not earned but taken without consent. 

And she saw, saw those long nights the Druid had taken what wasn’t earned. Just as the phallus now pumped into the Ranger so had it then pumped into the Dryad. Its magics twisting what should have been free, what should have been innocent, what should have been asked. Taking, twisting and perverting.

The boughs of the canopy parted, and the moonlight shone upon the Ranger, cradled in the arms of the Forest Mother, her lips hungrily suckling a breast as the wooden phallus was gyrated into her. If the moon could weep it surely should have as this mirrored perfectly the innocent Dryad suckling at the Druid’s cock as he gyrated the artifact into her from behind. 

Corruption dealt, corruption justified, corruption doled out anew.

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