Rossem didn’t like castles. He liked visiting them, but he wouldn’t want to live in one. Mortal men had a habit of building them for function first, and form second. The aesthetics ended up being ‘tacked-on’, trying too hard to appear imposing or elegant. What was worse was that the functionality resulted in a thoroughly uncomfortable place to actually live. Long hallways were chilly. Courtyards were noisome. They were flammable. The elfhome was a stand against these principles. He had built a series of connected wooden structures throughout the treetops, connected with long vines, short walkways, and branches he had grown himself. Though he hadn’t had any visitors in a few decades, he had tried to be hospitable to any possible interlopers - the rubbery membrane that supported the walkways was inert, and not the cloying, seeking magic that would quickly restrain and encase anyone he deemed to be an intruder.

    Talyn hadn’t had time to circle around it or examine it. Rossem was busy at the site of horror, no doubt teasing the living statues now encased around the campsite. The panther clambered up with a set of climbing claws, leaping to the top in near silence.

    The entire structure seemed grown into the trees. Talyn ran his fingers over the smooth vines and textured wood. The interior of the rooms had pleasant magical lighting. The walls had bizarre replications of famous paintings, recreated in liquid, glossy rubber and wood. A strange ‘guest room’ had a facsimile of a normal bed, with mismatched blankets and shawls stitched together to form an ordinary bed. The guest room was also host to a footstool that mewled and groaned. She was encased in luscious, glossy latex sap, kneeling as if prostrate before a god. Her rump wiggled slightly - she was aware, awake, and knew that he had entered. Talyn couldn’t resist a quick touch at her rear. Pleasant sounds emitted from the rubber furniture. He was rather impressed with the glossy nature of her encasement. This elf had some fascinating abilities on offer. “Bianca….” Talyn read a sigil engraved on the back of her neck.

    Something snapped - a twig or a branch or some leaves - and Talyn whirled around. He expected to see Rossem. He was surprised - but her appearance was anything but surprising.

    The dryad was exaggerated and unrealistic. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed below her chest. Her long legs seemed even longer as she stood on the balls of her feet. Her hips and rear bulged out to present a curvy figure somewhere between a pear and hourglass. It was rather obscene.

    It would be difficult to describe her as ‘modest,’ though she was completely veiled. Rossem’s magical forest had done a serious number on her. Whoever she was before was encased beneath a tremendously thick layer of his mystical sap. Black rubber was her skin now, perfectly hugging her and exaggerating her in various places to make something that was preternaturally appealing. The way that she crossed her arms meant that she pushed up her bust slightly; the way that she crossed her legs allowed one to see just enough to be thoroughly curious. In some spaces, viridian green leaves comprised a form of ‘clothing,’ wrapping around her waist and womanhood. Talyn could see that even these were the same rubber. It was designed to entice and invite curiosity, not protect any modesty. She had none.

    Conversation seemed somewhat difficult, as her face was a single, curved mass of black rubber. Sculpted or grown, he knew not; but aside from high and puffy collar of leaves, she was anonymous. The semi-spherical bane helm made it impossible to tell if she was even a living, mortal organism or if she were just a temporary construct. After a few seconds of staring, the helmet morphed, growing a hole for the mouth and hardening into recognizable features. After a few seconds, Talyn could make out  facial features.

    “The Baronette Cordelia.”

    “At your service!” she said in a husky tone.

    “I’m here to rescue you.”

    “Oh? Really? Me?”

    Talyn felt a pit grow in his stomach. The way she moved, the way she spoke…

    “Well, let’s talk about it.” She took a step closer. Talyn took a step back. She was beyond simple ‘rescue.’ He would need the elf alive and cooperating if he had any hope of redeeming or even retrieving her.

    The dryad formerly known as Cordelia made a move closer to Talyn - somewhere between a lunge and dramatic stage-fall - and he deftly stepped to the side. In an instant, he had gone from the treetops.

    Rossem returned shortly thereafter. He did not punish Cordelia or Bianca, but instead spent a few moments basking in the scent. This panther simply exuded a masculine mystique. He had to have him.

    He was closer than he thought. Rossem spent a few moments sitting. The snow had stopped, but it coated a good portion of the landscape below. He preferred it this way. It was quiet and clean. Fewer rustling leaves, and no noisy humans trapsing through his forest. At best, his sensitive ears picked up on the occasional rubber moan - he had already begun transporting his newly acquired statues to the treetop home.

    With a warm cup of tea and and handful of berries, Rossem was ready to spend an evening relaxing. Bianca provided a lovely footstool, as always, and Cordelia was kind enough to make up his bed.

    Hopefully, thought Rossem, he wasn’t scared off. He had been thinking about the panther for quite some time. He was cute and muscular - he really had all sorts of traits he valued in himself. His smell, his motions, too - the elf was smart enough to read into his very soul, and he knew he was fascinated by his creations. If the panther hadn’t run off, then he’d make an excellent little rubber kitten. Rossem had only to find an appropriate way to keep him. He felt himself growing aroused at the thought. It would be fun. Maybe even more fun than creating Cordelia.

    He relaxed in the crisp air. With tea finished he lay his head on the bed for a moment, allowing himself some time to dream. He saw the potential. Talyn would be his rubber assassin, going out and bringing other playmates to his forest. He could build up his little home and act like a mortal baron. Then, thoughts of the panther encased and swinging appeared; packaged and penetrated as a trophy. Finally, images of the panther above his bed, about to leap down and pounce him in ambush flitted before his eyes.

    Rossem’s eyes grew wider as he dropped. This was no dream.

    Talyn had remained silent for who knows how long, silently waiting in the rafters for his quarry to fall asleep. Rossem felt terror.

    "Say nothing." Talyn had landed directly on top of the elf. Rossem was breathing heavily, gorging himself on his foe's musk. "Do not scream." One claw was firmly around the elf's neck. The other fit across his face and nose. Klyn's eyes wavered slightly as his air was cut off. This peril was simply irresistable. It was embarrassing, but he knew that he had already grown hard beneath his purple dress. Talyn noticed, but said nothing.

    "Mmmhm." Why would he speak? He was perfectly satisfied as-is. He had no need to speak.

    "I watched you all afternoon bringing your new toys back to your home. You're tired. You're horny. You didn't notice me."

    Though pressed against his bed and growing short on air, Rossem shrugged. I suppose so, he said in gagged muffles.

    "You're beaten. Release them, and I'll be merciful."

    Rossem nodded. Admittedly, he didn't want mercy. With the panther right on top of him and those strong paws on his face, he was really rather satisfied. The panther could do whatever he wanted - but Rossem knew he was a professional. There'd be no play.

    The hunter removed his hand from his quarry's mouth. There was a distinct grin on his face.

    "No time for jokes, elf," said Talyn. "Stand up. Cast whatever spells your need. Release them from your control."

    "We spent all this time chasing each other, and now you just want to end it? Please, stay a while. We could play a game of chess for them. What do you say?"

    Rossem gulped. He felt something sharp against the small of his back; a dagger, or perhaps just one of his claws. His point was well-made.

    "In that case... I'll do as you say. Please, walk with me outside. I'll do as you say."

    Rossem was, in fact, true to his word. They went to the central room of his sprawling treetop home. Baronette Cordelia picked up Bianca the footstool. Rossem wiggled his fingers, and both of them became human once more. Rubber sloughed from their bodies, and they were soon released; nude, asleep, and no longer under his spell.

    "I'm true to my word," said Rossem. "They're free."

    "Good. Now-"

    Rossem interrupted Talyn. Even with the claw to his back, he felt confident enough to speak up.

    "But there is, of course, my fee. Have you anything in your pocket, Talyn? Any change in hand? Some coins?"

    Talyn scoffed. He looked at his left paw and instantly swore.

    Thick rubber was pooling around his wrist. It must have been from when he had put his hand on Rossem's mouth! Talyn cursed again, dropping his dagger in surprise. He grabbed at it, trying to remove it without succeess. He had taken off his gloves to try and make a point, to use his claws - and now he regretted it immensely.

    "What's wrong? No money? There there," said the elf. A wide grin was growing over his face. It gave him the appearance of a jagged-toothed demon. His eyes had changed color. "We can make a deal. Those two go free. You'll do nicely as a replacement."

    Talyn roared. This elf would not have him so easily.

    He pounced. Powerful hindlegs threw him forward, slamming into the elf and backing him against the wall. They shattered through the wood and together stumbled backwards.

    "Release me, Elf," he said. "My duty's not done. I'll play with you on my own time, not before."

    Such a professional! Rossem wrestled with him, enjoying every moment. This was scintillating, stimulating, and positively delightful. His foe wouldn't admit it, but he must have been enjoying himself - Rossem was certainly enjoying every second. Long gloves and long boots flashed against the panther and his paws. 

    They tumbled dangerously close to the edge of a platform. The hunter had the upper hand. He placed one hand on his quarry's head, pulling at the fey's blond hair. The other extended claws. He felt the rubber growing, extending, and further coating his left arm. He hadn't much time. 

    "Release the spell, elf. There's no need to capture me with sorcery. Let me return my packages to the king, and I assure you, I'll return."

    "Oh?"

    "Yes. We can continue this fight then."

    Rossem put his finger on his mouth. "Hmmm.... that is tempting. Okay! I'll tell you what..."

    He swallowed. The elf's pugnacious and flippant attitude had taken some hits - after all, he was just a few inches from falling from his home, and there was a powerful panther dominating him physically. 

    "I accept your deal."

    Talyn sighed. Good.

    "But they don't."

    He whirled his head around.

    There were dryads here, a dozen of them. They had come from nowhere, melding with and passing through the trees as though they were water. Each of them was completely silent, their smooth faces not breathing nor speaking. They simply surrounded him. He couldn't tell whether they were originally male or female, but each of them had the curves of a woman.

    The others! This was what Rossem had done with the soldiers from the first band... and what he had done with those new acquisitions from the second.

    "Some of them aren't done," said Rossem. "I usually like to keep my dryads 'in the oven' for a few years. It takes quite some time for them to truly become attentuated to the forest. By the time they get out, they're quite pleasant. Not always very good at talking, but they really know how to host a guest. And Talyn, you denied one of them earlier. I'm afraid that they don't take 'no' for an answer."

    They moved closer. Talyn relaxed his grip on the elf.

    "Never fear, panther. I've got plenty of plans in mind for you."

----

    Rossem kicked up his legs, planting them on an ordinary wooden table. He was sipping a warm beverage; cacao leaves brewed into a strong, bitter drink. He had finished breakfast. The second snow of the season had come and gone.

    It would soon be time to redecorate. It was difficult to decide how to change, though; he was used to keeping his environment static for decades, if not longer. But he had a guest. It would only be polite to change up the decor. 

    The trophy that was his centerpiece was gently swinging to and fro as the tree moved in the wind. It was a panther, properly encased and preciously packed. Talyn was covered from head to toe in two coats of magical rubber - similar, but not quite like that of his former footstool Bianca.

    Talyn was kept in a fetal position - his knees folded and his chest tucked against his knees. His arms were at his sides, gripping thick wads of leather. And of course, he was totally and completely encased in Rossem's own latex. It was such a sight to see. Rossem had truly outdone himself. His gloss-black coating had been reinforced a few times. It was thick in some spots - especially over his hands, making them into rubbery mittens - and thinner in others. 

    His face was quite visible through the latex, and Rossem liked it that way. His muzzle and snout were exquisitely detailed. He ran a finger over the panther's face. His jaw was agape, not unlike the soldiers from earlier in the winter. Thin spots around his rear allowed further access. Within his latex cocoon, vines and leaves had carefully coiled around strategic spots to maximize restriction; sheathes and membranous layers could, on command, provide such splendid stimulation that Rossem himself envied his panther-toy, and all without breaking that precious seal.

   The elf sighed. Such a beauty. Packed and plugged and teased; this was how to treat a guest! Aroused grunts were all the compliments than he needed. 

    Rossem's ears twitched. He wanted to play with his little toy - to use him roughly and give him all the love and attention that he could muster - but there was another visitor. He motioned his hands for his dryads; a few of them slinked into the room. He instructed them to have their way with him and keep him prepared for more visitors. In a moment, the elf was gone. He had to welcome a new guestt.

---

The white-furred vixen stared at the warning.

She had been here for some time. It almost looked like a suit of armor that would guard a crossroads. Almost.

The warning must have, at one point, been a human woman. She had the features of it, and wore the armor of a local ranger. Beneath the metal, though, the magical sap of the forest flowed out and through. She was totally trapped in a thick layer of... something black and shiny. The vixen grinned slightly. She had heard rumors that such sap flowed freely in this forest.

Still, it was more than just some wayward prisoner or encased statuette - it was a warning. The armor was clearly that of an elite ranger. Her legs were spread wide and her arms were behind her back, lashed to a blunted spear shaft. The wooden pole skirted between the cheeks of her rear. As the vixen circled the warning, it was clear that others had been here before - sampling the goods and teasing the living latex shrine. The message was clear this was once an interloper, and this was what happened to those that entered the forest without permission.

The vixen sighed. An herbalist's job was never done. All she needed to do was to gather some rare reagents, and then leave. The forest's inhabitants would never know.

Rossem grinned from above. He knew how to treat guests.