Rossem kicked up his legs, resting them on a moaning mass. The moans were music to his ears; almost as pleasant as the sound of his forest. He took a handful of nuts and placed them in his mouth with dainty elegance. The succulent bounty of his forest was more than enough nourishment for his body.
His mind, however, had grown somewhat sybaritic in nearly three centuries. His tastes had become esoteric. The forest itself had reacted to his ego. It had grown darker, more colorful, more striking and beautiful.
The creatures within his old wood had also changed. Gone were the formless abstract spirits of the earth. He had created his own generation of kindred.
The elf’s footstool was moaning again. She had once upon a time been known as Bianca, and Rossem had not yet had deigned to give her new appellation. But he rarely referred to her as such; normally, he called her pet, or darling, or nothing at all.
Thick, magical rubber had coated her from stem to stern. It was a luscious and nacreous black; the results of arcane sap from the trees mixed with his own magical doings. It sustained her, it enclosed her; it had become one with her. Just as she had become one with the forest. Bianca’s face was nothing more than a blank expression and an open mouth, eager to accept whatever her overlord decided to give her. Sometimes it would be intimate; other times he would merely tease her with fingers. She groaned and moaned all the same. It was all she could do; although he understood her thoughts, Rossem had not yet decided to let her speak. Perhaps in a few years, she would be suitably entwined with the magic of his forest. But for now, she was merely crouched, coated, and letting him relax with his feet on her back.
“Nnnghh.”
Rossem wiggled his fingers, and the latex sealed once more. She was now completely enshrouded within the dark green-black rubber of the forest. He sighed and allowed her the pleasure of an orgasm, mentally commanding the plugs in her rear and womanhood to grow and gyrate.
And then suddenly, they stopped. He had shuttered them, for he needed to hear. She groaned once more, hoping to gain release a final time, but the elf thickened her padding, rendering her totally silent.
He strained, trying to sense what was nearby.
Someone was intruding on his forest.
---
It was chilly, but not freezing. Overcast skies and gentle winds indicated that the first snow of the season was soon to come. The precursors were already appearing; the occasional snowflake drifted from the sky. One such snowflake flitted onto the tip of a ranger’s spear, turning to water and running down the shaft.
They were ten in all. Seven rangers, led by Captain Matteo, and their two specialists, trudged deeper into the forest.
Whether summer or winter, it was never quiet. Leaves rustled endlessly as gentle winds scattered the crunchy flakes of gold and ochre across the forest floor. The rustling and clinking of the ten visitors only added to the noise; shields and swords and light armor made for a particularly cacophonous party, even without their banter.
But it had been two days since they set out; two days of chilly fields and forests, and an uncomfortable night where they had swaddled themselves in furs. The men and women that made up the squad of rangers was ready to take out their frustrations.
“Just one elf?” said one.
“Just one,” said another.
“No way,” said a female from their ranks. “Must’ve been at least four or five. A single elf would be too cowardly to take on a noblewoman and her retinue.” The soldiers chuckled, grumbling about the now-missing Cordelia. If that annoying little cad hadn’t gotten herself abducted, they wouldn’t be out here.
“I’ve been wanting some elf ears for a while. Trophy for my mantle, y’know.” A few soldiers blurted out rough accolades.
“We could probably take them all alive,” responded the first. “I bet folks in the cities would pay good coin for an elf of their own!” More murmurs of assent echoed from the group.
“Oh, absolutely,” said another woman. “You know what elf ears are best for? Handlebars.” She made a lewd gesture, spreading her legs and pantomiming the forced oral of their hypothetical captive.
“Enough!” The Captain smacked a metal gauntlet against the helmet of the closest guard. She grunted slightly. “You’re gonna make a fool of this company in front of our guests!”
There was one other in the group. He was a far cry from Matteo and his company of forest-rangers; humanoid, but not human. The male was a panther of regal bearing and composure. Ta was a renowned troubleshooter. Feline reflexes were legendarily sharp, and sending him to assist with the issue of the elf seemed like an obvious choice. Dark fur contrasted with the gray-white traveling cloak; he was already preparing for snow.
“Talyn,” said the captain, “Is there a reason you’re so quiet?”
He shook his head. “You’re making enough noise for the lot of us, and then some.”
“What’s there to worry about? You really think that the elf can take us all out?”
“No,” said Talyn, “I know so. Underestimating your foe is the fastest way to defeat.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to make judgements. He’s some sort of immortal fae creature with infinite powers over the forest, right?” The captain laughed.
“For a start,” Talyn muttered.
Evening approached. A few hours later, the group had made camp, felling a tree for wood. They spread out, shoving around rocks and logs to make for small seats. The rangers drank and ate merrily. The group had made it to the deepest point of the Old Wood. From here, it was just a matter of time before they found the missing travelers and they could be on their way.
Talyn approached one of the rangers, tapping her on the shoulder.
“Come with me,” he said. She shrugged and acquiesced to his request.
---
Rossem was already thinking about what he was going to do with them. There were lots of options. Too many options. Trophies? Dryads? Servants? Perhaps he would do as he did with a few stray travelers, and ransom them back to the other humans. He bore them no ill will. It was no great disappointment to return a few living souls to their homes. Of course, they always returned packed up and tightly encased in many layers of his own sticky sap. He didn’t tell them that when he accepted the ransom.
He had figured out what he was going to do with that one. The one that had said such naughty, mean things about him! The woman who intended to use his gentle, sensitive ears like… handlebars? It was an unacceptable sleight against his ego, and he intended to repay her ten-fold. It helped that she was alone. It appeared as though she had traded some words with the panther, but was now standing alone in a copse of trees. The mortal's back was to a large oak, and she looked left and right frantically. She was nearly a hundred paces away from the rest of the rangers. Most curious. A trap? Perhaps an offering?
The elf stalked through the trees, making one leap and then another. The branches and boughs would change and grow with time, but he had a more innate, deep connection to the forest. He ‘knew’ where they were without ever seeing them. Traveling the canopy was more than ‘second nature,’ it was his first nature. With this silent, unseen method of travel, Rossem moved until he was just above the woman. He positioned himself to be directly above her, and summoned a glob of that magical latex between his fingers. He folded it, rolled it, and eventually stretched it into a wide sheet. He was a chef, and his ingredient seemed to be presenting herself. Mimicking his previous dives, he attached a stretchy band to his waist and prepared to jump from the tree. He’d snatch her up and be back in the boughs before anyone saw what happened.
Chill wind whipped at his face. He stretched the sheet before him. Someone yelled. The ranger dove out of the way. The elastic snapped, and he plummeted toward the earth.
A blunt-headed arrow slammed into his chest, and he felt the breath leave him. Rossem was barely able to tumble and roll, distributing the energy of his tall fall. He gasped, regaining his breath. The arrow shaft had a wide, smooth and padded edge; enough to stun, but not pierce. He scrambled to his feet and saw the ranger drawing her sword.
“The next arrow is a bit sharper, elf,” said a voice in the treeline. “I won’t miss.”
It was that utterly fascinating panther again. He had planned this. Not bad.
“That’s a threat, not a request,” said Rossem. He stepped forward. The ranger brandished her sword again.
“On your knees, elf. This is your one and only warning.” The ranger, sword in one hand, approached him. She brandished a wide pair of metal cuffs.
“I’m to be your prisoner, then?” said Rossem to both of his assailants. “I don’t know if I have the constitution for prison. A pretty thing like myself will be like a sheep among wolves! Any way I can sway your opinion?”
Talyn had left the treeline and was now approaching the elf. The ranger did the same, though with more trepidation. A lethal-looking arrow was still knocked in his collapsing bow. “Duty first, then negotiations. I’m taking you back to the camp. We have questions about a missing person.”
Rossem dropped to his knees. The leaves crinkled, mixing with the oily-squeak of his violet dress and long boots. He was grinning. Talyn didn’t like this. The guard clearly didn’t like this one bit; she had been inching closer, cuffs in hand, for nearly half a minute now.
His foe was a professional. “Bind him now, talk later.” There would be plenty of time for discussion.
Rossem did nothing, and quietly put his hands behind his back. The guard finally made her move; sheathing her sword and grabbing at his wrists.
“I generally mix work with play.” The ranger grabbed at Rossem’s hands and yelped. She stuttered back, grasping at her hands. A thin black line was rapidly spreading from her fingertips, and was moving towards her wrists. She stumbled. Rossem turned and bared his teeth, his eyes shining with an unnatural glow. The ranger shrieked and ran to the woods.
“No!” Talyn’s head turned. He felt empathy for her, and his eyes glanced for just a moment. In that time, the elf was already flipping through the air. He let his arrow loose, but it impacted harmlessly into a tree. He launched another, and then another, each of which flying and landing with a ‘crunch’ sound into shrubs. The lithe fae was scrambling upwards, cackling to himself. He scrambled up the tree like a squirrel, too fast to get a solid lead.
The icy wind blew, sending his one more arrow flying to another tree. The first snowflakes started to float, with some catching on the treeline while others passed through the canopy to the forest floor. Talyn swore to himself.
“What’s going on!?” The other rangers were running towards him. “Where did she go?”
“Was she taken?”
“What’s happening?”
“There! Up there!”
“Don’t spread out!”
Talyn tried to control the situation, but it quickly spiraled from his power. The guards were shouting and running. One tried to go searching into the woods, only to be stopped by the captain.
“That’s what he wants!” he screamed. “We spread out, and we’re all doomed. He’ll pick us off one at a time!”
“We have to go after her. She’s hurt!”
They argued. Order broke down, and the group continued their arguments as they ran into the woods. Talyn swore and packed up his belongings. The female was supposed to be a lookout, not a sacrifice. Unfortunately, this group was proving too wily. They wouldn’t be much more useful than as bait for this elf.
---
Rossem hadn’t bothered learning her name. He no doubt could have taken the time to listen in and deduce her identity. Doubtless he could have learned her tastes and hopes and fears. That wasn’t a priority. He knew enough.
She had pricked her finger, his living latex had coated her almost completely. It flowed beneath her armor, bulging out around her curves and seeping through her clothing. She had fallen at some point and tumbled into a pile of leaves. The other rangers had passed her by, not seeing her or hearing her thickly gagged pleas for assistance.
If they had heard or seen her, it would’ve been a massive shock. The ranger was a parody of a soldier; thick, black sap that reflected the light. Long legs were covered in silky black latex, while her arms were glued behind her back in a solid black mass. She squeaked, desperate to be heard. Only a pair of tiny holes allowed her to breathe, and even those were tenuous. The ranger could feel it compressing her tighter as she struggled, melding and melting together as the temperature dropped. Strains of the latex wormed around her breasts, molesting her despite her full clothes. Occasional pinches around her teats forced her to exhale with aroused surprise. She was further surprised when she felt fingers pinching shut her nose.
“Mmngh!” Without a single opening, the ranger’s sounds and pleas for mercy were nearly silent.
“So. Handlebars. Me, giving you some oral fun. That right?”
“Mmg! Gmmph!”
Rossem took a seat on her stomach. She squealed again at the pressure.
“I don’t like being disrespected like that. How about we make an example? Just to warn others off.”
“Pmmgh!”
“Shhh. Sleep, little one. Your job isn’t yet done. You’ve got a long shift ahead of you.”
---
The guards never found their missing compatriot, but were so riled that they kept searching all the same. The wood wasn’t that large; surely they’d find some sign of that rotten elf or his captives. The last leaves were flying from the trees, making the canopies open. Even as evening approached, they kept their eyes on the treeline. He wouldn’t be sneaking up from them on the ground, nor would he sneak up on them from above. The party felt confident, even if Talyn had seemingly deserted them. They were well-equipped with warm clothing and plenty of supplies. A light snowfall picked up. It was white and crisp in the gray light of the early evening.
Marching songs, shouts, and taunts echoed through the forest. The day turned to dusk, and the snow turned black. The chanting grew louder, then shockingly loud, and then silent.
---
Talyn had been asked to come along as a specialist. He was more experienced with creatures such as this, and knew their tricks and traps. They were certainly impressive. The results spoke for themselves. When the black snow began to fall, he had hidden away and sequestered himself from the rest of the group. After he emerged, he allowed himself a few minutes to marvel at the arcane wonders of this malignant elf.
The whole squad had befallen a fate worse than their missing companion. Half of the troop was frozen in place, creating a macabre garden of statues. Black rubber had fallen across the region, with its tiny droplets and flakes covering a circular area. Their camp was almost entirely black, as though a painter had taken a wide brush and filled in part of the landscape. The tents dripped down rivulets of liquid, pooling around the ground. The campfire was extinguished, though some details - the stones and logs - were visible through the layer of rubber. Talyn carefully crept around the area. In some spots, the magical rubber was so exquisitely tight that he could make out the texture of the wood or the leaves.
In the same way, he could make out the facial features of the bound victims. The frozen troop was enclosed in positions of fear; some were tearing at their heads or torso, others were on the ground as though they’d fallen in surprise. One female had her hands on her chest, as though she was trying to remove her armor but hadn’t succeeded. He gravitated back to the faces. Some had their mouths agape. Those that did looked almost like skulls. The rubber was tight against their forms, compressing their visage and making them all nearly identical; it squeezed against their eyes and jaw, and totally coated their gaping throats. No teeth or tongue, only moaning maws that made occasional throaty emissions - grunts of pain, pleasure, or quiet exhortations for help.
Others were on the ground. One female seemed to have been asleep when the snow began. She was so thickly coated as to be unrecognizable. The rubber went around her form, giving her a vaguely female outline, but he’d have no idea it was a human if not for the knapsack next to her. He wasn’t sure if her arms were at her sides or between her legs. Talyn was mesmerized by the scene. Were her last moments before enclosure pleasant? Did she sleep through the shouting? Was this intentional? The lot of them were alive, but quite unable to talk.
The strongest fighters seemed to have escaped. He track rubbery footprints and splashes for a dozen paces, wherein they all stopped. Talyn licked his lips and sighed. The other foresters hadn’t made it very far.
One - possibly Captain Matteo - was enclosed from the neck down in roiling, coiling viridian leaves. Sticky sap had glued him in a vacuum-packed sack, creating a second layer against the rubber with which he had been showered.
Grabgrass? The panther wasn’t entirely certain what species of plant he had encountered, but he kept his distance. He didn’t want to join them.
The captain’s body was experiencing another layer of enclosure. The plants seemed to slowly coil up against him, seeking out warmth and heat. His squirming body was rooted to the ground; his ankles were buried in the soil, rendering him totally unable to run. He may as well have been trapped in poured concrete, or magically petrified. The prisoner wriggled a bit more, his face trapped in the same open-mouth death mask as the guards at the camp.
A female ranger to his right was similarly bound. Foliage was compressing her curves, feeling her feminine form. She was squeezed so tight that the magical rubber practically oozed from gaps in the leaves. Vines surrounded her, and seemed to be dragging another sheet of chartreuse up her body. It was as though she was being packed up by a gardener. A royal groundskeeper would enclose the most vulnerable roses and plants in canvas tarps for the winter, and this sheet seemed to be of a similar purpose. Retrieving her and rescuing the others would be possible, but it was clear that the elf - and his forest - planned on keeping them enclosed for the winter.
A bud grew from the ground, attached to the end of a long stalk. It coiled around the female like a snake, and the bud blossomed into a flower. Her gaping face was suddenly enclosed as the flower wrapped around her head, and the moans turned to muffles. Her mouth and belly seemed to bulge. The vine’s coating mated with the flower, providing her a final, rubbery wrap. The others began to undergo similar encasement. After a minute more, they were all anonymous bulbs.
Talyn sprinted away. He had a brief window of opportunity while the elf would be distracted.
---