Story Deep Into The Forest (pt 4)

Published: Jan 1st, 2012



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With a heavy sigh of dread, John watched as the man he had always looked up to (and often times feared) writhed angrily in the chair he was bound to as the evil woman began to remove his clothing. She removed it one article at a time, sometimes ripping cloth when needed, and tossed each article into the fire piece by piece.

His father yelled and cussed, especially when she reached down to remove his boxers.  He tried to kick his legs, but to no avail, and after a single pull, she removed this last bit of clothing, revealing his pride underneath.

He hadn't seen his father naked since he was young child. But wow. Like the rest of his body, he was well endowed, certainly larger than John or his twin was.  A war veteran and retired border patrol, he was a proud man in every sense of the meaning.  As his father continued to curse at the woman, she gently put her hand under his chin, pulling his head up so her eyes met his.  "Shhhhhhhhhhh"

The anger John could see in his dad's burning eyes almost made him want to run away (as if he could), but that didn't seem to phase her one bit.  After all, she was in complete control.  Dipping her hand in her wooden bowl, she grabbed a handful of the substance inside and dabbed it on his Adam's apple.  Gently, almost sensually, she slowly rubbed it around his neck towards his chest, then up under his chin.

As she began her foreign chanting, he turned his head trying to bite her.  She pulled her hand back, and unfazed, began chanting even louder.  With his heart feeling as heavy as lead, John wondered what horrors she had in store for his father.  If there was man that couldn't be broken, it was his father. Somehow the made the thought of watching him be humiliated made it all the worse.

The changes began at the man's throat.  A white patch of fur had already spurted out from the site of his Adam's apple, and was already spreading in every direction.  Quickly, John tried to think of all the creatures he could think of that had white fur.  His mind blanked, the only thing he could think of being a polar bear. 

Could it be?  Could the witch be so arrogant as to turn his father into one of the most powerful beasts in the world?  His father??  Sudden thoughts of hope crept into his mind as his father's yells turned to higher pitched screams.  Higher and higher pitched they became, almost to the quality of yelps.  John watched as his father began to writhe, now clearly in pain as the changes spread to his face.  With the grotesque sounds of cracking and stretching, his father's face pushed out.  The fur covered the newly forming muzzle and spread around his eyes as they turned a light blue.  The fur around his cheeks was long and fluffy, spreading up the back of his head, his sparse brown hair turning white and dense.  His ears moved towards the top his head, becoming pointy, covered in fur.

His father continued the chorus of growl mixed with yipping. 

Wolf!  John realized now, an arctic wolf.

The fluffy fur now covered the man's chest, his arms shifting more canine-like, his hands contorting into furry paws, small pointy claws at each fingertip.  Then, as the changes worked towards his legs his entire body began to noticeably shrink in size. The transformation had clearly accelerated at this point, his father's form now changed to something almost completely canine.  A tail then wormed out from behind, naked as a rat's at first then fluffing out with a sudden "poof" of fur.  The tail grew and grew, incredibly fluffy, waving behind the animal in his agitation.

No, not a wolf.  Fox.

Its transformation complete, the arctic fox sat there panting. John looked around at the rest of his family.  Steve was still strapped there on the table but had been able to see the whole thing.  The horrible look of fear still evident in his eyes.  Next to his head a blue jay stood, surveying the scene.  Standing next to her eggs... six of them, no, seven. 

Wait.  Seven eggs, the same number there was many moments ago!

The witch must have sensed his pitiful moment of joy, patting the little bird on its tiny little head.  "Don't worry I haven't forgotten about you hon.  I've only given you a brief reprieve so that you too could pay attention."

Then a growling.  The arctic fox must have finally realized it had slipped free from his binds during its transformation.  With a vicious snarl, teeth showing, his father launched himself from the chair towards his family's captor.

"STOP!!!" she yelled, putting her hand up to intercept him.

John watched in shock as the fox ran head first into the hand, then crumpled to the floor with a pitiful yelp.  Rather than attack again, his father merely stood back up, growling as he stared at the women in hatred.  The fox seemingly hesitated, like it wanted to pounce but was too scared or unable.

"You will never growl or bark at me ever again.  Ever."  As if on cue, the fox quieted down and loosened its posture, but still staring angrily.

"Let me clarify something," the woman said with that same creepy smile on her face, "You, like all the other animals here, are incapable of harming me.  My will over you prevents it."

With his last futile hopes being dashed, the witch's next words stabbed into John like a cold knife.  "Furthermore, my magic requires you to follow my every command.  I only have not chosen to do so yet."

"But, since you insisted to force me to, I will demonstrate on you first."

John swallowed as saw her eyes narrow, growing sinister.  "You will allow me to pick you up and position you as I please, then you will wait for my next instruction."

With that, the woman flicked the ropes that had tied his father from the chair onto the flood, then scooped up the fox and set him back down on it butt first.  Like he was teddy bear, she positioned the unresisting fox's body into position, resting him into a sitting position, with legs apart, big floofy tail sticking straight ahead.  It was an awkward, almost comical pose, like those "my cat sitting like a human" pictures that people always like to put on the internet.

It was all too clear what the purpose of this position was.  With his haunches beneath him, legs apart, his father's crotch was in plain view.  At least he was still male... for now.

"Do not resist me.  And all of you will watch.  Do not look away.  You must never look away when I have something to show you.  And this includes you... daddy."

Fortunately for John, he was still free from the witch's influence.  He was just tied down.  Tightly.  He squirmed in his chair just to check.  Yep, tightly.

As he tried to distract his mind with his own thoughts, the woman picked up the blue jay from the corner of the table.  She flapped her wings in panic, but calmed when she was placed down close to her husband.  The bird was wedged nice and snug between the inner thigh of her husband's left hindleg, and the thickness of the fluffy white tail that lay between his legs.

John had seen this before.  She was going to make his mom watch from a painfully close distance.  And at her small size, anything she saw would only be amplified.  The witch made sure to reposition all the chairs to make sure they could all share in the experience.

John looked around at his family.  The cougar, the bird, even the fox himself were staring down at his father's crotch as she rubbed the substance from her wooden bowl onto his member, rubbing it around.  His father whimpered weakly as the furry version of his pride, the thing that had made John and Steve possible, quickly receded into his body, leaving only a distinctly canine pussy.  Its view was only partially obstructed by the fluffiness of the white fur surrounding it.

Then the witch disappeared from view.  She was gone for several minutes.  From where he was sitting, John couldn't see what was happening, only hearing the tell-tale noises.  After several huffs and puffs and finally a deep groan from the cougar behind him, she returned, carrying a glob of cum harvested from Steve's own sex.  She stooped down, making sure not to obstruct the big cat's view, and dropped the glob directly on the fox's virgin lips.  She rubbed it around in a circular motion, coating the fur and matting it down enough to get the fur out of the way.

With her pinky finger, she dabbed her finger in some of the juices, then held the tip directly on the lips. She paused for a moment with her finger held there.  The anticipation made John hold his breath.  Then, with a slow steady motion, the finger advanced.  The lips initially pushed inwards, then popped out, the tight outer folds giving away, eliciting a soft yelp from fox as it watched itself being violated.

The witch then stopped, wriggling the tip of her finger ever so slightly.  It was enough to make her outer walls contract involuntarily and her outer lips quiver.  From John's eyes, the lewd site looked liked a baby's lips sucking tightly on the nipple of a bottle.  For a few moments she let the lips suckle on the finger.  But then, rather than pressing further, the finger pulled out with a wet pop.  There was a slight hint of pink flesh hidden underneath, before the lips closed together tightly. 

Even though little had yet happened, the wetness of the cum coating her sex and the fur around it gave the sick illusion that that she had been thoroughly bred.  Of course it wouldn't be long before it was no mere illusion. 

"I do not want to take the fun away from you, daddy," she cooed softly, as if she needed an explanation, "this may very well be your last chance to take a woman's virginity." 

With that, she unleashed her newest round of torments.

With cruel detail, she described everything she wanted his father to do.  All the while she maintained her deceptively soothing tone.  Though John was good at drowning out words, he couldn't stop him self from seeing.  And the witch always made sure to make sure he was watching.

She started by commanding the fox to curl over and clean the juices that clung to her fur. At first the fox hesitated.  The anguish John saw in the fox's eyes told the whole story.  His father was desperately trying to resist.  When he would start to bed over, he would force himself back up with a jolt.  It was reminiscent of a kid trying to keep himself from falling asleep in class.  John stared at the white furry animal with sadness, imagining the torment in his mind.  This was his father!  This man never gave up, but he could see the despair starting to creep in.  He could only imagine the power the witch had over him.  And before his eyes he could see his father's will cracking.  He could see it in his eyes.

As if to apologize, the fox looked at John, the rest of the family, then slowly curled down to fulfill the witch's commands.  It would be the last time his father would demonstrate any measurable ability to resist her power.

With wet sticky slurps, the fox began to use his tongue to lap up the cum that coated the fur between his haunches.  She started at the edges, then work her way inwards.  Of course the she-devil made sure to remind the whole family where the cum had come from, making the cougar behind John huff.

Eventually the juices were cleaned up, ending with a final slurp right over her own folds.  The fox had tried to keep her composure, not giving the witch any satisfaction by showing any emotion.  But she was unable to hold back a surprised yip when her tongue rubbed hard against the small nub that lay where his penis had once been.

The witch smiled in amusement, now forcing her to focus his attentions on the nub and lick it over and over, even nipping at it with his mouth.  As unwanted as it was, the arousal was unavoidable.  From John's vantage point slightly to the side, he could see the beginning of a bud of moisture starting to peak its way out from between the vaginal lips. The bud slowly grew, its slick surface reflecting the light from the fire.  It was soon joined by another bud, and another.  They merged forming a globule, finally cresting and flowing down towards the base of the tail, down the left side, the edge of it just landing short of the blue bird that roosted there.

With a big slurp over her folds she was made to lap it up, sampling her own taste for the first time.  The fox coughed slightly, forcing it all down in one gulp.

John wanted to cry.  It reminded him too much of all the times he had seen his cat cleaning his privates.  That was disgusting enough.  But this was so much worse.  Oh was so much worse.

The visual image of the arctic fox bent over cleaning herself had barely even been able to burn into his mind when he saw the tongue begin push between the folds.  The tight lips pulled apart with a sticky sound and stretched under the strain of the slippery appendage.

Under the witch's sadistic verbal guidance, the tongue pushed all the way in, spreading the labia around it.  The tongue went in and out slowly as the fox did what she was told. 

The quantity of juices John could see being excreted was unnatural (but then again, how much of this was natural?). The ever increasing flow of juices followed the same path as the earlier stream, running down the left side of her tail and collecting in the space between there.  John's throat tightened a little as he remembered the blue jay that lay in that very space, her small feathered chest already coated in its stickiness.  The jay, at least not in any danger of drowning, was watching the scene as well, her beak held open slightly.

The lewd scene continued, finally culminating to the tongue being told to focus on "your most sensitive spot".  The fox had to press its muzzle in deep to reach it, at least a couple inches past the nose.  Her folds were strained so tight to the point of being paper thin, threatening to tear.  But they held.  The lickings persisted.  Finally, the fox's first orgasm began to peak over the edge.

Suddenly a look of panic in his father's face.  She could feel it coming.  But the witch's magic didn't allow her to pull away until the deed was done.  The walls off her sex spasmed as the glands inside released their prize.  With the vaginal lips spread so painfully tight around the fox's muzzle, there was no where to go except jet through the narrow trail between the animal's tongue and upper palette.

John watched in horror as he could just see past the muzzle's slightly parted lips and between the gaps in the teeth between it.  He saw it all with all too much clarity.  The gushes of cum injecting into his father's mouth.  The force of it shot some of it out between the cracks in the teeth, the rest going deeper into the mouth, flooding it..

As with Steve, the orgasm had been much longer and far more productive than naturally possible, but after several agonizing seconds, it finally subsided.  The fox's last command finally fulfilled, she promptly pulled out of herself, cum dripping from all corners of her mouth. She gagged and coughed loudly, sending strands of her juices into the air all around the hut, some of it landing on John's face.

The fox was utterly humiliated, turning her head away so as not to look at his family.  No.  HER family.  Her family who'd been there the whole time.  Her family who had been forced to watch the whole thing.  The shame was unbearable. As she shifted to sit in a more natural position, her tail and left leg moved apart, freeing up the space between them. 

Then a fearful screech.

To the blue jay the flow of the puddle of juices down towards the end of the chair must have seemed like a waterfall to the little bird.  She fluttered her wings as she began to slip down. But before she could fall, her husband's white paw caught her and pulled her close into her soft white body. 

The bird chirped softly as the fox nuzzled her, almost as if to assure her everything would be okay.  The bird rubbed her little feather against the fox's cheek, even wrapping a wet slime-covered wring around it.  The two embraced.

The sight made John want to cry. 

Gently the fox began to lick the much smaller bird's feathers, cleaning her own stickiness from her.

Even the witch stood there watching the scene, seemingly impressed by their affections.  (or at as was John's interpretation.  Though perhaps that would be giving her too much credit).


His parents were allowed to sooth each other for several more uninterrupted minutes.  They nuzzled, rubbed heads, even kissed, beak to muzzle.


But it all ended too soon.

"Are you two love birds ready for your honeymoon?" 

Just like that the brief moment of peace was over.  The witch, bending over the chair, began to whisper things that John could not hear.  But he could tell from the shocked look in his father's eyes that it would not be good.

As per the witch's commands, the bird reluctantly hopped down from the protective embrace of her husband down to the floor.  Looking around for a clean spot, she flopped onto her side, much like she had in egg-laying position.  Only this time eggs were not the goal. 

Her husband soon followed her to the floor, making a wet splash as her paws landed in a puddle of her own cum. She crept closer to the bird that lay there, standing over her.  There was the briefest moment of hesitation before she stooped down, pressed her head down and began to lick between the bird's legs.

The floor was too slick.  As the bird began to slip away over the lubricated floor, the fox grabbed her with her paw, cradling it against her arm like a cat playing with its favorite toy.  Now stabilized, the fox began her task at finding the cloaca that lay beneath the feathers. 

It didn't take long to be found.  After all, the whole family was all too familiar with where the eggs had come from.

Soon, after a few tentative probes, the tongue began pushing the dark ring of flesh apart. 

Fortunately for John, the witch didn't bother moving him closer like she usually did, and the bird was so small so he was spared from being able to see the gross details.  Nonetheless, his mother didn't spare him the sound of her loud squawking each and every time the tongue penetrated her deeper and deeper.

Is she be in pain?, John wondered.  Or could she possibly be feeling pleasure? or both?  He didn't think birds could orgasm, let alone feel pleasure.  But of course, this was no ordinary bird.  As disgusting as it was, he hoped for pleasure.

This sight of his dad essentially eating out his mom went on for several minutes.  Until finally, the bird screeched loudly with her wings flapping wildly.  With each screech, as spurt of juice squirted out, splashing into the fox's already well-coated muzzle.

Mercifully, it all died down soon enough.

With this likely being closest thing to sex that they would ever have again, his father now pawed at the bird, trying to help her back on her feet.  Soon she found her footing, giving him a small chirp.  They nuzzled each other again, the fox curling his tail protectively around her.

John watched his parents with the slightest feeling of warmth, not noticing as the woman behind him stirred something in her wooden bowl. 

Something special for him.


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