Stories Hub / Sci-Fi & Fantasy / Monstrous Ranch Ch. 15

Monstrous Ranch Ch. 15

by GigglingGoblin 01/14/18

My dear brother,

What the fuck is going on over there? I haven't heard from you since you met the friggin' pirate! Are you even reading these? I swear to god, if you just got caught up with some lust sprites and lost track of time, I'm going to give you the skittergoblin treatment. Write back ASAP!

The next few days were a blur of... almost nothing for poor Senya. Jerrod and Bobbin were in a hurry preparing for "Market Day", constantly rushing out of the farmhouse to talk to the Thriae about the honeypots, or to barter with the spritelion, or otherwise to oversee the harvests. They never let him come along.

Instead, Senya was kept under close watch, paired with various guardians set to keep him in line. Quite often, it was the catgirl.

She was Kitten much more often nowadays, as far as he could tell, and mostly just played with her 'toys' and made sure he didn't get up to any mischief. Once or twice, he convinced her to go for a short walk, but they rarely made it far. She seemed to get triggered by half of the things he said, and inevitably she would end up grabbing him and sprinting back to the farmhouse for one of her bizarre delights.

A few times, she had persuaded him into joining her, employing deliciously lewd promises to coax him into assisting Kitten in her bliss. He usually let her cum, but it was getting more and more tempting to build her up later and later. She seemed to need his permission. Whenever he was too hesitant to grant it, she would eventually pounce on him and fuck the words from his gasping lips.

And he seemed to need that.

But it usually wasn't Kitten. It was usually one of the scarecrows, and in particular, Seven. She was always extremely affectionate, of course. He had saved her life, and so she lavished kindness on him, treating him with almost the same devoted affection the Thriae showed Bobbin.

But he almost never even made it out the door with her around. She responded to any attempt by tempting him into stopping for a snack at the fruit bowl, and she'd start babbling nonsense to him while he ate, and the next thing he knew he'd be kneeling between her legs and gasping for a taste.

She always assured him it was for his own protection, but her own hunger was evident.

Once, Bobbin and Jerrod had failed to communicate with one another and each left him with a scarecrow to keep him company. They had returned and found him tied spreadeagled on the table, bound and gagged and whimpering for more as they tickled his feet and took turns bouncing on his shaft.

Bobbin had been more careful after that.

But every now and then, both the scarecrows and Kitten would be busy. And these were both the best and worst days. On these days, Bobbin simply wouldn't wake him up in the morning, and he would spend day and night in a lusty blur in his bed, lost in the endless lickings of his puppy sprites. The morning after he would be awoken with a chipper whistle, and Bobbin would usually have to take him downstairs and fuck him senseless just to "get it out of his system".

One time, Kitten and the scarecrows had been unavailable two days in a row, and he'd been captured by the puppy sprites for forty-eight hours straight. Bobbin had taken him right back up to his room immediately after breakfast, back to the lust sprites' delights. She told him later he'd begged for it.

All-in-all, Senya was losing time. A lot of time. He was pretty sure it had been a week or so. Jerrod told him it had been eight days. To their credit, both the stockman and the straw boss appeared fully aware that there was something wrong about this arrangement.

"It's just for the interim," Bobbin assured him. "We want to make sure everything's in... oh, in order. Trust me, I don't like this a—ah!—any more than you do. Oh, yeah, baby... You like that..."

Senya had some trouble retaining what she was telling him when she was rising up and down on his cock like that.

But the arrangement did pass, and strangely, Senya felt better for it. He still melted whenever he so much as heard the suggestion of "going to bed"—but it had always been like that, right?—but it felt like he'd hit rock bottom. Rather than explore the Ranch, he had used the little time he'd spent not getting fucked to study and learn. Jerrod was a helpful teacher, and Bobbin provided a lot of useful pointers.

He had finally memorized the triggers, for one thing. He still didn't feel fully safe using them, but he was pretty sure he could escape most of the monster girls' advances as long as he could manage the words while resisting their control.

And so it came to pass that one morning, Jerrod awoke him and dragged him from the room of whimpering puppy sprites, and Senya set out one again to do the morning chores. Harvest time was upon them, and there was a great rush to get everything ready for Market Day. Bobbin was already sour because, as she said, "The fleece isn't ready yet, but everything else is. We'll have to wait until after the shearing to go to market. It's too risky, otherwise."

And so Senya found himself faced, first of all, with the task of collecting the prisoner fruit.

And this time, he would be alone.

Senya's jaw was set as he made his way toward the forest. His heart was pounding. His cock was... harder than he might have liked. He concealed it strategically with the large basket he was tasked with carrying.

Bobbin and Jerrod evidently saw this as a low-stakes task—Brigitte was better-behaved than, say, the holstaur, so even if (or when) she took control, she wouldn't try anything too permanent. They just needed him to tell her to go into the orchard, harvest the prisoner fruit, and bring it back to the farmhouse. Nobody else had time for it. Apparently, the scarecrows had trouble with Brigitte. Bobbin had mumbled something about 'tentacles' when Senya had pressed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know more.

It wasn't terribly important to Bobbin and Jerrod that he resist Brigitte, but it was important that he got the fruits back before noon. It was ten now. Senya knew all too well how time could fly in a prisoner's arms, though, especially after the last few days. Especially in an alraune's flower. Above all, it was critical that he not end up in the alraune's flower, bathed in her nectar and helpless to have any thoughts beyond her.

Even though a part of Senya passionately, desperately wanted that.

But Senya had plans beyond harvesting. He needed answers. He hadn't been able to so much as glance at the cellar with the scarecrows and Bobbin around, and he didn't trust the basement with Kitten in tow—she seemed eager and submissive, but he couldn't trust that anymore.

Brigitte was, according to the dry rosters he'd read, one of the oldest inmates still around. Apparently, there had been a wifwolf a while back, as well as a few demons and even a brass sprite, but most were now gone. Transferred to other ranches, maybe. Uncle Ysun had had three, according to the lawyer. If anyone would know about the lights in the cellar, it would be Brigitte.

Well, or perhaps Valina or Mommy, but... something told Senya that they wouldn't be quite as helpful. Or would be too helpful.

And Bobbin, of course, but she was...

Senya wasn't sure what to think about Bobbin. She clearly wanted to protect him, but protect him from what? She still wouldn't give him a straight answer. Senya wanted very badly to trust Bobbin, but he wasn't sure she was even able to fully answer him. Who knew what control she was really under?

And so Senya, still horny and weak from his week in the grips of overwhelming pleasure, his mind slowly cracking beneath the constant submissions to the fey of the Ranch, was faced with the ominous task of interrogating an alraune.

Senya came up to the edge of the orchard, reached up, and plucked a ripe, juicy fruit from the branches. He bit into it, savoring the juice as it dripped down his toned, naked body.

He could only hope he'd be able to hold out.


"Ah!" The alraune's bright red lips curved up in a sly smile. Her big, emerald eyes bored into him, gently mocking. "If it isn't my dear, dear Master."

Brigitte was as beautiful as he remembered. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant scarlet against her pale green skin. Her long, pine-green hair poured around her heart-shaped face like oozing treacle. Wet, squishing sounds came from the pink flower she lay within, its petals gently undulating around her like a lewd dress.

"Hello, Brigitte," he said, his mouth dry.

"Oh!" She put a hand to her breast, beaming. "Master remembers the name of his adoring pet alraune. What a pleasure it is to see him again."

"I-I'm here to collect the fruits," Senya said, biting his lip. He looked around, trying to avoid looking at...

"Look into my eyes."

Senya looked up and met her verdant gaze.

Instantly, his worries and cares relaxed into a feeling of calm and bliss. Vague memories returned—his body pressed against hers within the flower, guided into thrusting again and again and again, the cinnamon sweetness of the nectar dripping into his gasping mouth—and he felt his eyes sink deep into hers.

"Good boy," she cooed, leaning down from the flower. She was ten paces away from him, but Senya could already almost feel her kisses on his cheek. "Such a good, darling Master. Did you miss your slave, Master?"

"Y-yes," he said. His voice sounded distant and confused. Her eyes shimmered with glorious green, half-closed in smug delight. Part of him knew he needed to look away, but part of him wondered if it might be better to play along, to keep her happy. Or did he just want to believe that? Her praise made his cock throb. It felt so good to be praised.

"I know you did." She giggled. "Your manhood swells at my every word, sweet pet." With a sinking feeling, Senya realized he'd forgotten to get dressed. Again. He wished he could remember why that kept happening. "Already, you ready yourself to submit to my embrace once more. A strange Master, but a welcome one." Her eyes glimmered. "Come closer, my submissive Master. You cannot help yourself."

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