The Woman In The Woods free porn video

Most folks avoid the woods. Strange things lurk there. That's probably why they feel like home. I never truly fit in, always felt a world apart even when among my few friends. I've never been able to express just why that is, but it's haunted me my whole life. Like many misfits in this corner of the world, my differentness resulted in a career as a mercenary, adventurer and professional misanthrope. I don't regret my choices, or lack thereof. I saw a good portion of the world as a soldier before returning to find the town a week's journey from my home had become a bustling metropolis. It lay directly on a new trade route opened in the aftermath of one of the wars. The village a mere day's journey from my cabin had also benefitted, and its inn was always full of travelers. Progress marched. The world was becoming civilized. The woods, however, were not. That week's journey can be cut to three days by passing straight through the forest. Most don't believe the risks are worth the time. Those that do hire the services of a ranger such as myself, relying on our keen eyes and brooding wisdom for safe passage. There is good money to be made in the brisk trade between the tobacco of the village, the craftsmen of the town, and the rest of the world. With my help a merchant's goods can reach market days before the competition. Nearly all of my clients survive, provided they follow my commands. The most common creatures are no more dangerous than a wolf, if far more odd. Learn their habits, study their patterns, and one can avoid confrontation altogether. I am capable of handling the consequences when the situation proves otherwise. The bigger danger is those rare denizens of the woods with strange intelligence and bizarre magic. They are to be avoided at all costs, and obeyed if that becomes impossible, no matter how insane their demands seem. It is better to lose your goods or the third finger on your left hand or a cherished memory than risk becoming ensnared in the forest's enchantments. Such creatures rarely kill their victims. They prefer to leave them changed, whether in mind or body. I've seen their arcane whims alter people for the better, but I've seen plenty more instances where death would have been a kinder fate. The risk is not worth the danger. To keep my skills sharp, I sometimes patrol the shallow areas of the woods. The worst things live in the deeps, rarely leaving their demesne, and dealing with the simpler creatures makes for good practice. This is why I found myself stalking the forest late one night, several hours away from the town. I had finished escorting a client earlier that day, and was waiting to pick up a job for the journey back. Other rangers use such downtime to huddle at a tavern and drink. I didn't care for the company. The night had been uneventful when I heard a female voice in the distance, deeper in the forest. My first thought was of a youth from the town. They occasionally spent the night in the woods on a dare, and never appreciated a ranger's lecturing. That one of them would sometimes fail to return only seemed to increase the appeal. But more importantly, the sound was far away enough to have come from the deeps. Many of the more powerful beings could pass as human, if they wished. I ignored it. I was where I wished to be. A minute later the voice returned as a scream, which became louder as its source drew closer. Then guttural barking joined the frightened cry. This might warrant help, but I held steady. It was one thing to protect a client, another to go looking for someone who'd put themselves at risk. The latter was far more dangerous, and could be a trap. I found a hiding place and tensed, preparing for whatever horror was coming my way. At first I saw a beacon of light, with a single upright shape at its center and four misshapen blobs trailing behind, barely more than shadows. As the scene came nearer I could make out a young lady holding a lantern and running for her life, with a pack of foul creatures in pursuit. Even from a distance, she was breathtaking. Her red gown was torn enticingly, exposing places all but chosen to draw the eye. Her enormous bosom heaved as she ran, threatening to burst through the tattered fabric. One long, shapely leg was clearly visible through a large tear in the hem. Jet black hair flowed behind her as she ran, easily long enough to touch midway down her back, yet it never became tangled in the branches of passing trees or bushes. As she drew nearer her face was a portrait of lustful innocence, somehow implying both sex and purity, but those huge blue eyes were full of pure terror. Her full, red lips cried out, begging for help from no one in particular. I recognized the creatures in pursuit. Their forms were furry and vaguely canine, but they had long, spindly legs and neckless heads that were all tooth and jaw. They had no eyes or nose or ears, yet could detect differing intensities of light. The only reason the girl lived was the beasts' enjoyment of the chase, which they found as exhilarating as the kill. They were temperamental, however, and would quickly lose interest in prey they couldn't track. Like so many creatures of the woods, the things were dangerous to fight but simple to escape, if you knew their tricks. I studied the scenario. It was disturbingly perfect. A more than pretty girl and a pack of easily confounded beasts. I flourished in these woods by trusting nothing, as illusions were just another tool of the forest. Even if this was real, it was her fault for treading where she should not. I was alone and in the shadows, and the things would ignore me. The girl hadn't yet seen me, so I was not yet involved. But I could not abandon her. I could not convince myself that she was a trick, that she wasn't some poor girl from town who had gone too deep and become terribly lost. I liked to think myself a good person, that I wouldn't let an innocent be slaughtered for the crime of being foolish. I refused to consider whether her looks and my loneliness had any influence. I told myself I was being a hero as I stepped out of my hiding place. I almost believed it. I dashed towards the lady as she drew close, fell in stride, and demanded she drop her light. Her eyes went wide at the sight of me, big and beautiful and disarming, but I repeated my command, harshly this time. No time for comfort. She veered away from me, still running, and I cursed. The foolish girl probably though I was another monster, trying to trap her in the dark. Flight did her little good. She was no athlete, and I was a ranger. I easily kept pace, annoyed at how her bright light ruined my night vision. I screamed at her to drop the lantern. The beasts, growing tired and ready to end their fun, were closing in. I sense them drawing mockingly close even without looking. So could she. The girl looked at me with dread, swallowed, and finally did as I asked. The lantern bounced behind us. The creatures pounced back on it, shattering the beacon amid growling and howling. The fire spluttered out and the world went black. I reached out and touched her, managing to grab a hand. We ran for several more minutes. The creatures wouldn't pursue, but they may lash out blindly in annoyance. We stopped once my eyes readjusted to the feeble moonlight. My new client stared at me wide-eyed, as though I might become a fresh monster any second, but did not say a word. I considered a plan as we caught our breath. We were only an hour or two from the edge of the woods, and an hour's walk more from town. I was known to the guards, and would be allowed inside even at whatever ungodly hour in we'd arrive. We'd still be able to get several hours of sleep at the inn where I was staying. I explained my idea. The young lady stopped looking at me and started shaking badly, but nodded and finally spoke up to tell me that she wasn't from this area and the hospitality was appreciated. I took her hand once more and guided her at a brisk pace. This close, I could see her wounds in the poor light. They were superficial, likely caused by passing thorns and the beasts' taunting. As absurd as the dress was her boots were of good, tough leather, made for traveling. She could handle the speed I set. We were in the shallowest part of the woods, but I was not waiting for further trouble. My companion opened up after the first hour of walking. She thanked me for saving her, complemented my bravery, asked how I knew so much about the creatures, and generally acted like any relieved young lady would. She kept babbling despite my terse responses. They probably added to her fascination with my rugged mysteriousness. At one point I pulled a small mirror from my pack and offered a look. She took it gratefully and tried to fix her hair a bit as we walked. I was relieved. Many creatures of the woods reacted adversely mirrors, even those that had reflections. Her eagerness was a sign that I had made the right decision. Eventually, we reached town, and the young lady finally quieted down. Nothing else from the woods had bothered us, and the guards seemed more interested in my companion than myself, quite eager to let her inside. I brought her to the inn where I'd been staying, not far from the gates. It was a bit run down, but quiet and not unsavory. The bouncer's eyes lit up at the sight of my companion, and his joy only faded slightly when he noticed me. The inn was used to housing arrivals at all hours of the night, and so he took my added custom without comment, though he raised his eyebrows when the girl told him we didn't need a second room. I didn't comment, figuring I'd sleep on the floor. She was probably too scared to stay alone tonight. She surprised me after we entered the room and closed the door. I'd expected the girl to climb into the bed and get under the covers, to hide and put an end to this horrible night. Instead she sat on one side of it with her legs kicking eagerly while I lit some candles. She was smiling when I turned back to her. Now that we were safe, her relatively humble thanks became an embarrassing tirade of praise. When it was done, she talked payment. She was a merchant of finery, but dropped all her goods when the beasts started giving chase, she told me. She had nothing of value on her, no proper way to reward my kindness. She swore she would find a way to makes amends, but for now would I accept a kiss? Just a little something to seal the bargain, she assured. I protested. It wasn't a strong protest, I'll admit, but I tried. The girl looked astonishing, even battered and worn. It didn't take her much effort to pull me down and plant her plump, soft lips against mine. Whatever willpower remained shattered near instantly. I'd expected a little peck. What I got was a long, lingering warmth, spreading out from our entangled mouths and through my entire body. The sensation seemed to last forever as time ceased meaning. It was pleasure so strong it almost hurt. The feeling wasn't just sexual, it was beyond orgasmic, beyond description. Sometime during that eternal moment I realized my mistake. There isn't a woman alive who can make a man feel like that, not with a kiss or anything else, no matter how skilled or beautiful. I'd let myself get distracted by a nice pair of legs, caught the attention of something nasty, and now I would pay. Though pay was the wrong word. I was in so much ecstasy that thing could have slit my throat and I would have enjoyed it. The creature eventually let go, and it smiled as it removed the tattered dress. The body underneath was unwounded and more perfect than I'd ever imagined possible, free from the flaws of mortal flesh. The thing whispered about the fun we were going to have, of its excitement to bestow my reward. My clothes somehow became a heap on the floor, and I joined it on the bed. I am not sure I'd be able to transcribe the act had I kept my wits about me, let alone lost in desire as I was. All I can say is it was the most pleasurable experience that ever had or ever will have, and for that I am grateful. The sensations were addicting, threatened to make everyday life feel pointless and hollow by comparison. Were I given the opportunity to feel them again, I am not sure I could resist. We did things, wonderful things, but soon even my lust-addled brain could tell more than lovemaking was occurring. It started somewhat subtly. The creature seemed to be growing larger, stronger, more forceful. The room itself seemed to be getting a little bigger too. I attributed it to tiredness, and let my partner pick up the slack. Then things started becoming wrong. I looked down and noticed that my nipples were big and brown, out of place on my flat, hairy chest. We kept going, well beyond what should have brought me release, and my bones began to ache. I could swear I heard them crack and stretch. At some point my body hair disappeared without a trace, leaving my skin smooth and bare. Things got worse when the gorgeous thing readjusted and started licking my hairless chest. The feeling of its rough tongue sent shivers down my spine, particularly when it reached those too-large nipples, and with my renewed groaning my voice seemed off. As I readjusted my grip on its shoulders, my hands and arms seemed different too. Smaller, and less calloused. I'd have been worried, if worry were possible. My partner leaned back a bit and nudged me to rearrange some more, and I eagerly obeyed. My legs wanted to splay out further and my backside felt more substantial, so I adjusted my posture. My chest bounced slightly as I did, and I looked down to see a pair of fleshy little cones. Without the creature's head in the way I could just barely make out how my whole torso had gone concave, and how I had substantially less equipment below. A moment later the thing from the woods was back at work on my budding breasts, but I'd already surveyed the damage, and horror was finally managing to bubble up behind my ecstasy. It was making me a woman. The thought was somehow less terrifying than it should have been, and tinged with a bit of curiosity. Neither emotion could break through the wall of desire that still ruled my thoughts. By this point I was well on my way to femininity, and between the shock and continued pleasure I barely noticed the remaining changes. I was in a stupor as my partner worked on me, so burnt out on enjoyment and confusion I barely cared anymore. My body still ached, and I could feel parts shifting and grinding and shrinking, and I squirmed and thrust and moaned in the heat of passion, but mentally I was catatonic. I was barely surprised when thing from the woods stuck a finger in a fold near where my penis should have been and started working it back and forth. The sensation was strange, slippery and faint, until it reached the tip of my groin, brushed a tiny button, and made me convulse at the sudden intensity. Then that finger traveled down a bit and slipped inside my new sex. That sensation broke through my numbness, made me sit up and gasp, allowed me to feel the heft of my fully formed breasts and to hear the lightness of my voice. The finger slid in and out of my vagina while another worked my clit. For the first time all night I was allowed to approach orgasm, but when I was on the cusp I felt the fingers slide back out. I was disappointed. I didn't care that I shouldn't want it, I needed release. If that meant being taken as a woman, so be it. As if hearing my thoughts, the creature dropped its head to my groin, and I felt a different wetness against my own, accompanied by a familiar roughness. My partner licked with gusto for some time more, and an explosion of physical bliss and spiritual elation followed. My pleasure came to a head, a cacophony of desire and warmth and color and need and feelings for which I lack words. I yelled out in ecstasy, high-pitched and female, uncaring. My body shivered, my knees went weak, and I rode the feeling as long as I could. When I came down from the high and opened my eyes, I was alone. The creature from the woods had disappeared. For a moment I felt relieved and thankful. Then, as the night's slight chill pricked my skin and clarity returned, understanding hit home. I touched an unfamiliar face with a tentative hand as my heart started pounding. I lie on the bed, now shivering for a different reason, and felt violated to the point of nausea. The thing had taken my body. Not only that, it had used my new one, and I'd been complicit. Enthralled, perhaps, but the pleasure I'd felt was real. I lifted my breasts in my hands. They felt so heavy for how small they looked. I rubbed a thumb over a nipple, and the wonderful sensation put me over the edge. I tried fighting them with heavy breaths, but it wasn't long before I gave in to the tears of hopelessness. I curled up in a ball as I sobbed. I felt my breasts against my knees, the lack of a penis between my thighs. That I was a veteran warrior who was bawling like a child only drove home my despair. I didn't even know what I looked like, only that my body was completely alien and incredibly vulnerable. I was a freak of nature now more than ever, and I knew everyone who saw me would know I'd been a man. I considered grabbing my knife and ending it all. Whether from sheer willpower or lack thereof, I didn't go through with it. I didn't even move for a long, long time. I lay there, naked and fetal, as the tears dried up, as the crying subsided, as the shivers slowed and I eventually remembered how to think straight. I'm not sure how long it took, but the first rays of dawn had started streaming in when I finally unfolded myself. As I did so, terror and hopelessness gave way to a deadly, emotionless calm. Had I been less exhausted I might have felt satisfaction, as that calm was familiar. It had seen me through bloody battles and horrible decisions. It was the determination that had let me thrive in the world even when I felt I didn't belong. I sat up, and the sway of my bosom didn't matter, nor did the view of my slim arms. I was still me in my soul, where it really mattered. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself up and took a step. I immediately stumbled and caught myself against a wall. Carefully, I tried again. I few aborted attempts later I was walking the length of the room easily, if shakily. My new body's gait seemed unwieldy, but it was consistent. It would take some concentration at first, like walking again after spending weeks recovering from a wound, but it wouldn't be long before I was used to it. For better or worse. Hesitatingly, I bent down and reached for my pack. It had been of no interest to the thing from the woods. I pulled out a piece of dried meat and ate as I dug through my other supplies, then found the mirror and pulled it out. I needed to know my face before moving forward. A strange combination of sadness and elation pierced through the calm as I looked at myself. I was pretty. Too much nose, perhaps, and my face was just as hard as when I'd been a man, but my cheeks were prominent, my lips were full and even that outsized beak could be considered attractive, in its own way. My eyes were still a fighter's cold blue orbs, betraying years of hardship, but they were larger and topped by arching brows, giving them a certain harsh yet undeniably feminine appeal. I was somewhat surprised that my hair hadn't noticeably changed, and was still blonde and short. Perhaps it was a bit thicker, but that was just as likely my mind filling in false details. I spent the next minute taking further inventory. I decided I looked something like my sister, had she become a warrior. There was satisfaction to be had there, even if I couldn't quite understand why. Part of me wanted to perform a more thorough examination, but I had neither the tools nor the patience. My tiny hand mirror would take ages to get every angle, and the sooner I was out of this room the better. I wanted to get a move on before despair returned. The thing from the woods had not taken my clothes or its dress in its disappearing act. I weighed my options before picking up the dress with a sigh. Near as I could tell I was now several inches shorter and significantly skinnier, and wearing my ill-fitting old clothes would seem odd. Potential trouble, since my old self was well known if not exactly popular, and I was now the last person to be seen with him. Besides, scandalous as it was, the gown was a better disguise for what I had in mind. It was too short for me, and obviously meant for a woman with far more substantial curves, but it was so torn and tattered that I doubted it would be a problem. Any man who saw wouldn't be paying attention to how it fit as much as how it didn't. The thought brought up a feeling of dread, but I forced it back. My cold calm couldn't break, not yet. I'd done more degrading things than wear skimpy clothing in the name of survival. At least the boots fit, more or less. I put my old clothes in my pack, finished my meal with a swig from my waterskin, and steeled myself. I spent more several minutes breathing deeply and making sure my head was completely clear before I headed downstairs. I didn't want to cause a scene. Run down or no, this inn survived on its reputation, and the owner would investigate any signs of foul play. The last thing I needed was for the first few people who saw my new face considering me a murderess. My plan was to convince the bouncer that I was the woman who I'd brought here last night, and that I'd been abandoned. He'd barely seen the creature, and was likely completely focused on its body, so he probably didn't remember the face of the girl wearing it. The hair was a bigger problem, but nothing I could do there. I planned on being out of town before he thought to question it. Even through the calm I was tired and worried. I was no actor. But as it turned out, I didn't need to pretend. I really was a frightened and betrayed woman who wanted nothing more than to go home and pretend all this never happened. The fact that I hadn't slept and spent half the night crying drove that home. The bouncer smiled wickedly as I approached him, but it melted into sympathy as I drew closer. Sympathetic or no, he was still a man, and a crude one. The way he looked me up and down filled me with disgust, which only enhanced my act. I could feel his eyes on my body, and the harsh yet nervous tone of my voice was genuine. I asked if he knew where the man who'd come in with me went. He told me that he was a shifty bastard even for a ranger, supposedly lived in the haunted woods, and it was no surprise he'd snuck out. He added that if I needed an escort home he'd keep me safe, then laughed. I wasn't in the mood for either come-ons or assaults against my character, let alone both, and my glare wiped the grin right off his face. It was incredibly satisfying. It felt even better when he countered with his own a nasty look, and that also withered under my gaze. As the bouncer looked away, muttering under his breath, I felt something like myself again. The sun was just rising as I left the inn, and the streets were all but deserted. It was something of a relief as, more upbeat or not, I was still alone in an unfamiliar form. I made it to the gates all but unnoticed. I saw the strange looks the guards shot me out of the corner of my eye, but I strode forward, bursting with faked confidence, and they didn't stop me. Then I chanced a look behind and saw their eyes on my backside, and realized that perhaps it wasn't just my self-assured bravado that let me pass in this ridiculous outfit. From there I made the long journey home. I was still getting used to my female body and didn't dare cutting through the woods, so I took the road. The trade season was young, so it was easy enough to hide in the brush when the occasional traveler passed. Perhaps I was paranoid, but I was aware of my current body and its current clothing. To a certain type of man, they screamed target. I made good time, but I could not outrun the despair, and I broke down at several points during the trip. The worst was the first time I stopped to relieve myself. I'd been feeling almost normal, and squatting behind a tree was an enormous reminder of how much everything had changed. I ended up losing the rest of the day to self-pity. The other occasions were all late at night, when I was unable to sleep. It was impossible to ignore how different everything felt as I tossed and turned and tried to get comfortable. I kept expecting the thing from the woods to return as I prayed for dawn. The thing did not return, and my trip was otherwise unremarkable. When I finally made it back to my cabin, I almost started crying again. It was beautiful. It was a sanctuary. It was home. I locked the door behind me as I stepped inside, stripped off the filthy dress and boots, and collapsed on my bed. I felt safe for the first time since in almost a week. I lay there for hours, coming to terms with everything that had happened. I'd been barely hanging on since my transformation, hiding behind the calm, but now I could focus on where I would go from here. I was a survivor. My body was still all but completely unfamiliar, and my whole life was going to be different, but I'd been through worse, in many ways. At least no one was trying to kill me. My first course of action was to make full acquaintance with my new form. Alienated as I'd lived my life, I'd at least taken comfort in knowing who I was, and I needed to rebuild that base. One of my few amenities was a gilded, full-length mirror I'd taken as payment for saving a particularly wealthy merchant from a rather nasty beast. Rising from the bed, I hesitatingly stepped toward it. I was a woman. I'd been one for days, so it wasn't exactly a revelation, but seeing my entire body at once was a fresh shock. I looked as tired and unwashed as I felt, yet even through the grime I was obviously well- formed. Not the shapeliest woman I'd seen, but appealing. I'd never be mistaken for a man. I still seemed to have some muscle, though I was less wiry and more toned. My breasts still looked small against my torso, and confirming that was honestly disappointing, absurd as it sounds. On the other hand, my legs were rather nice, and by my estimate I would still be considered tall, even with the height I'd lost. I thought about how I would be treated now, being called miss or ma'am and treated with a certain degree of politeness, if not respect. Of course, that same politeness meant many people would see me as weak or lesser, and I needed to work all the harder to prove my worth. It was a strange dichotomy, and drove home just how different my life would be. And yet, the positives seemed to outweigh the downsides, deep down inside. There was undeniable satisfaction at the thought of being seen and treated as a woman, a certain sense of fulfillment I'd never before considered. The social repercussions were strangely comforting. I hadn't given it much thought during my flight from the inn, but I'd been planning on recovering my old identity. I doubted I would get my old body back, but I could conceivably convince people about what had happened somehow, some way. Yet, now that I had spent some time as a woman, the urge to be recognized for my time as a man was fading. This was an opportunity for a new life, a new me, and for the first time I could remember I felt something like optimism. It was those thoughts that motivated me, prevented another week of simply moping around my cabin. I was scared, but on some level I was looking forward to being seen and earning fresh recognition as a woman. I was working with a blank slate, but it wasn't like the old me was particularly loved. I learned how true that was in the coming weeks and months, as no one questioned my disappearance. It was somewhat angering, but not unexpected. That people simply assumed I'd been killed in the woods actually made my life easier. It also let them assume the woman who'd moved into the reclusive ranger's cabin was a relative or an apprentice, not a squatter. No one respectable had any interest in my home anyway. I helped the apprentice rumors along. It took a good chunk of my savings and several trips to town, but my first priority was putting together a new wardrobe. I had no desire for dresses or pretty things. My short hair and the loose, earth toned tunics I purchased marked me as a warrior, not a homemaker. Perhaps the leather armor I had made was a bit form-fitting, but I liked it. I was quickly becoming proud of who I was, and unafraid to put it on display. It wasn't long before I began roaming woods once more. Getting my first few customers was difficult, but I started with merchants I'd known for being egalitarian, impatient or both. I was no less capable as a woman than as a man, and once word of my skill spread my reputation quickly grew. Eventually men who balked at following a female ranger were openly mocked as the promise of money and safety overcame any perceived weakness in my sex. Perhaps the most surprising change in my life was personal: I've become something less of an introvert. I'll never be gregarious, exactly, but these days I find myself spending more time in town, drinking and enjoying the companionship if not exactly carousing. As I became used to the new me it became easier to be myself. There was no titanic shift in perspective, not sudden revelation, but these days I feel subtly less estranged than before. Even so, I retain my kinship with the woods as I draw closer to the rest of the world. I will not forgive that place for what it did to me, but I have become content with it. I braved its adversity and made it my benefit. Through that, I am triumphant.