‘Oh Alistair…’ The lilting voice danced through the trees, cold and mesmerising, a siren’s song. ‘Alistair Ward. Come out and play, Alistair. I promise I won’t kill you. Or perhaps you are already playing. Hide and seek, is that what you want to play with me?’ A burst of melodic laughter filled the air, though there was no warmth to it.
Pressed up against the thick trunk of a gnarled oak, Alistair clutched the numerous pendants around his neck and begged the gods to deliver him from the evil that stalked him. The relative safety afforded by the village was long behind him and now he was deep into the forest pursued by an ungodly creature. He was slick with sweat from his flight, the frail cotton of his tunic and trousers torn mercilessly by the savage undergrowth. His fingers were bloody from clawing his way through the brambles and bushes; his blood pumped so loud he was convinced his pursuer was sure to hear it.
Daring a glance around the edge of the trunk he watched breathlessly as the creature emerged from the thick fog.
Her hair was raven black, visibly sleek and soft even under the muted light of the fog, however the cloak that was tied about her neck and dragged behind her over the leafy path was darker still. It was not so much a colour than it seemed to be the very absence of light, so dark that he conceded if it were to be thrown over somebody it would consume them completely and they would never be seen nor heard from again. Her high boots were of a similar shade and the thud of her footsteps echoed ominously through the trees to shatter the oppressive silence. Around her waist she wore a silver-buckled belt, though he could not understand why for the woman was utterly naked save for these items of attire. Her naked breasts were plump and beautiful and her curvy figure was visible under the cloak. The buckle of her belt combined with the stunted light cast her bare genitals into deep shadow as though to retain her modesty, yet every few seconds she would lower a hand and run it between her thighs before raising glistening fingers to her lips and licking them clean.
‘Playing cat and mouse is making me wet, little boy. I can hear the frantic beat of your terrified heart and it fills me with delicious cravings. I want to bury my hands in your chest and rip the timid thing out. I want to kiss the cold lips of your corpse. Wouldn’t that be a better game to play? Wouldn’t it feel good to have me on top of you as you die?’ She paused, laughed again and he realised with a stab of terror that she sounded closer. His sweat dropped cold and he shivered.
‘He didn’t tell you did he? He never told you what was coming. How he betrayed you before you had even taken your first breath. Your father never loved you, Alistair. If he had,’ she fell silent, only for her next words to sound right beside him, ‘he would have taught you to hide better.’
Crying out, Alistair turned to find her leering over him with an icy grin that split her beautiful features like a horrible wound. She was close enough to touch and in such close proximity he could feel conflicting waves of attraction and terror washing over him. Her very aura seemed to incite both deep, dark arousal and terrible dread at once and the closer she drew to him the more he thought he would either give in and reach out to grab her breast or drop stone dead in fright.
Scrambling away he darted out of reach of her outstretched hand. For a second he paused and looked her up and down. Were it not for the fact that her beauty was laced with untold evil he would have been a lucky man to call her wife. A smile plucked at her lips as she stared at him, advancing slowly.
‘You are the same as all men, Alistair. Deep down, all you are is lust. You crave my touch, don’t you? Even if that touch is tearing out your throat.’ She laughed again and raised her hand. Snapping her fingers she giggled as her belt flickered into a garter belt that was strapped to new stockings thrusting up above her boots.
As she moved towards him her cloak slithered eerily behind her, somehow never snagging on the underlying brambles and scratching undergrowth.
Without warning something thudded to the ground under the shadow of her cloak. A second later a human skull rolled out from the dark. Glancing down at it she eyed him coldly. ‘Is this why you don’t want to play with me, Alistair? You think I’m a monster, don’t you? You’re wrong. I’m not the monster. He is. Your father. Do you want to know what he did to you, boy? Do you? I can tell you. You just need to come here. Play with me, Alistair. Let me rip you apart into lots of little pieces and then put you back together again. You’ll like it. I promise.’
‘Get away from me, witch,’ he spat. His delicate nerves failed him and he sprinted away terrified, her dark figure consumed by the fog behind him.
Though he could no longer see her, her laughter continued to pursue him and she taunted him with her chillingly singsong voice. ‘Don’t worry, Alistair, you’ll see things my way soon enough. I like this game we’re playing.’ She paused and a wet sucking sound could be heard. ‘Mmmh, you’re making me so wet and hot. But then the ones who play hard to get always do.’
Swatting aside a tangle of brambles he winced as the thorns tore at his skin. Once through he held his hands close to his chest, his fingers trembling as he dripped blood over the crunching autumn leaves.
In truth, he had no idea where he was going. Ever since he was young he had been taught to fear the forest bordering his village. He had lost count of how many terrible stories he had heard told over the years; stories of screaming banshees and vicious wolves, of mesmerising vampires as bloodthirsty as they were beautiful and, of course, ungodly covens of powerful witches. As such, he had never ventured more than a few steps beyond the treeline and by now was impossibly lost. He had no idea how far the forest stretched nor if there would be anywhere to shelter on the other side. All he knew was that whatever horrors awaited him the deeper he went, they could be no more terrifying than the beautiful, giggling creature that followed him. And, if he was lucky, he just might be able to lose her in the darkening forest.
When she laughed the sound came from everywhere at once, pressing in from all sides and disorienting him. ‘I wouldn’t go that way. It’s awfully dangerous. You might want to think of choosing a different path.’
Ignoring her taunts, Alistair charged on and lowered his shoulder to push aside a low-hanging branch. To his dismay the ground beyond the tree fell away, the drop masked by the thick undergrowth. With a shocked cry he plunged down the muddy slope to land heavily on packed mud. Winded, he gasped for air as he staggered to his feet and found himself in a deep hollow.
At the lowest there was a small pool fringed by dense reeds and tall grass. For a brief moment he thought himself to be alone. Stepping out from the bushes he had landed in however, he screamed as he caught sight of a horrific woman.
On the edges of the pond lay the corpse of a large, powerful wolf. Ordinarily Alistair might have assumed the canine was sleeping, however the woman crouched over it with her hands elbow deep in the wolf’s flank assured him otherwise. Snarling and grunting like an animal herself she ripped out strips of meat from the beast and tore at them with blood-stained teeth. His scream alerted her to his presence and when she turned to face him it became apparent she was naked.
Laying eyes on him she grinned wide and sat back from the corpse, licking her hands like a cat cleaning itself. Not that it made any difference, of course: the blood was smeared all across her chest from which it had coursed down her torso and legs. Her face too was covered in it, her chin and cheeks vibrant with crimson.
She did not blink as she watched him stumble back, his exhausted features twisted with horror. After a few seconds she rose to her feet and he noticed that no dirt or leaves had stuck to her bare legs as she had been on her knees.
‘I did tell you,’ came the woman’s voice and, wheeling around, he saw her standing on the crest of the hollow. ‘I only tell you the truth, Alistair. He never did. All your life you have been lied to. Let us set you free from the lies and everything else. It will only hurt a little.’
Looking between the two women, Alistair’s courage shattered and he cried out again, sprinting through the long grass with all the energy he could muster. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the cloaked woman standing beside her bloody companion and then they were lost to the fog once more.
Sprinting along the short valley that curled away from the hollow he found it rise in a steep incline that he threw himself up without delay. He could hear their footsteps and their laughter behind him and all he could think of was escaping them. His heart hammered painfully in his chest and his throat was tight and dry. His legs burned, his grip was weak – he could not hold out much longer. Night was drawing in quickly and then the cold would be his enemy as well. All he could think to do was continue running.
Cresting the rise he ran blindly through the trees. The slope was not ten paces behind him, however, when a new figure stepped out before him.
Like the woman feeding on the wolf she was dripping with blood, her naked, tattooed body smeared with it and her arms crimson to the elbow. She approached him with a cold smile on her dark lips, and her strangely blue hair was framed by a dark cloak she wore with the hood drawn up. Behind the tree she had used to conceal herself he could see the remains of an enormous stag, the antlers dripping scarlet.
She laughed and raised her arms, opening her mouth as though to speak. Without waiting to hear what she might say Alistair whimpered and sprinted away from her, batting aside bushes and charging through thick banks of nettles that bit at the exposed flesh peeking through his ripped trousers.
As he ran he began to weep. The hope of escaping these woods with his life dwindled fast. He knew he could not run forever, but he did not know what else he ought to do. As night fell he could see more figures in the forest, feminine and ominous. They stood half-concealed by the fog like wraiths or apparitions and everywhere he tried to run he found them waiting in the distance, forcing him in a different direction. He could not hope to count them: there could have been one or hundreds and he would never have been able to tell.
Darkness fell rapidly and soon he could barely see his hand before his face. Only when he stumbled into the wide clearing illuminated by the light of a dancing fire did he realise the distant figures had been guiding his flight, directing him where they and they alone wanted him to go.
On the opposite side of the fire stood a woman, naked and beautiful. She ran her hands through her hair with a contented sigh as he crashed into the clearing. She looked him up and down with a soft smile and he wondered what she must think of him. He was dripping blood from his legs, arms and hands and his clothing was little more than rags now. He was filthy and trembling and pale with fright. He whimpered fearfully but she only smiled.
‘You don’t need to run anymore, Alistair. You are where you belong. And you belong to us.’
Even if he had wanted to, he knew he could run no further. It was all he could do to stop his knees from giving way beneath him and he could see he had no hope of outrunning any of these creatures. It was clear now that they had held the upper hand the moment he had stepped into their forest and everything since had been them wearing him down.
Before he died, however, he hoped he might get some answers.
‘What do you mean?’ His voice was hoarse and cracked. It hurt to speak as much as it hurt to stand.
From the shadows emerged the cloaked woman, her raven hair stark against her pale skin. He could hear more footsteps along the edges of the clearing, and when the fire burned bright enough he could see their silhouettes against the crushing dark of the forest beyond.
‘I tried to tell you,’ she said. ‘You have never been loved, Alistair. Your life has been a lie from the moment you came into this world. Your father, he lied to you. He lied to you, and your mother, and everybody else you have ever known or cared for. He always knew this day would come and yet he never so much as tried to warn you, did he?’
‘Warn me of what?’
‘That we would come for you. You belong to us because he sold you to us before you were even born. When he was a younger man all he cared for was finding a beautiful wife, but he was a wretched man and never could find the good fortune to claim one. Driven by lust he came to us and agreed that if we created for him a potion that would drive the most beautiful woman in the village to fall desperately in love with him, he would trade us his first born son when the boy came of age. You are that boy, Alistair, and you are ours. We will pursue you to the ends of the earth until we claim what is rightfully ours.’
Alistair slumped to his knees in despair. ‘He could have warned me. Why? Why didn’t he warn me?’
‘Because he feared that if he made any attempt to keep you from us we would reverse the effects of the potion and your mother would no longer love him.’
Dropping his head he let out a sob. There was no more in him. He had nothing left to give. ‘So be it. Just, please, if you have any humanity, kill me quickly.’
Both women laughed then and he could hear more of them snickering in the dark.
‘Kill you? You haven’t been listening, have you, my dear? I promised you earlier I would not kill you. I also told you I will only speak the truth.’
Frowning, he looked up at them. ‘Then what?’
‘You really ought to listen harder, you know. It is like I said before: we want to set you free. You are to become one of us, a witch.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘We have power beyond anything you can comprehend, Alistair. For now at least. Soon enough you will have that power too. Like I said before, it will hurt a little, but that will be over quickly.’
‘What must I do?’
With a smile surprisingly full of warmth she gestured to the fire. ‘Step into the flames and like the phoenix you will be reborn.’
Rising to his feet on trembling legs, Alistair gave in to their wishes. If he did not do so of his own accord he knew they would only throw him in. At least he could fulfil his final act with some dignity. Dripping blood and shaking terribly, he strode into the middle of the fire.
At once the flames roared high into a towering inferno that engulfed him completely. His screams filled the clearing and rang through the trees as the gathered witches laughed. Coming forwards they all began to dance around the blaze, chanting and singing. One by one they took up a blade that sat beside the fire, ran it across their palms and thrust their bloody hand into the flames. When they pulled away the blood was gone and the wound was healed and they continued their elated parade round and round.
The final witch to step forward was his pursuer. Cutting her hand she held it into the fire and grinned wide. ‘All those years ago I lay at the mercy of your father for him to seal our contract. Now let it be me who sets you free from his lies. Alina, you are reborn.’
As quickly as they had engulfed Alistair, the flames fell away again and from within stumbled a beautiful, naked young woman. Her hair was dark and her figure was petite and the only recognisable aspect of the man she had recently been were her piercing eyes. Apparently exhausted she immediately fell to the floor only for many hands to slip beneath her, lift her from the ground and carry her across the clearing. Here they laid her on a dark blanket that had been spread out and the cloaked woman stood over her.
‘Now for our final gift.’ As though it had been there all along a long black serpent slithered over her shoulder and wound itself around her arm. The snake’s eyes glowed bright red and the hiss was loud in the silent clearing. ‘We draw our power from different places, Alina. This creature is from those places. A spirit of Hell bound in physical form, it will remake you into one of us. You will be our sister for eternity. Do you want that, Alina?’
Slowly, she nodded and in response the woman tossed the snake onto Alina’s chest. It was heavy and cold and for a moment she looked it in the eye. Then, laying her head back, she opened her mouth and allowed it to dart forwards and slip between her lips…
In the dark, twisted depths of the forest Alina learned quickly the satisfaction that came with her rebirth. No doubt any villager who entered the forest would have assumed the moans and screams that rang through the trees were those of a tortured mortal caught in the grip of some terrible creature. So unable to comprehend the true depths of passion were they that they could never have pictured the lustful coven tangled up together as a mass of limbs and bodies. They could not have imagined the desire that ran through them as they made love deep into the night and on into the morning.
And when the coven went out into the kingdom to find those desperate men willing to do anything and risk all they had in return for their assistance, the newly corrupted Alina found she had a gift for persuading them to her terms and sealing the contract…
Thanks for reading!
As some of you may already know from previous comments or through being a part of Evie Hyde’s Discord server, erotic fiction isn’t my first foray into writing. Before I turned my hand to all things kinky I had been writing in various capacities for years before that and even had aspirations of becoming an author someday – maybe I still will, I don’t know.
But one thing I do know is that the more I write erotica, the more my inner author comes out and the more I want to explore new concepts and genres. Describing what being a writer is like to anybody who hasn’t personally given it a go themselves is, I find, exceptionally difficult, but I think an apt comparison is to imagine yourself as a nursery teacher trying to wrangle a class of hyperactive toddlers, only in this case the toddlers represent ideas. Personally I find it very difficult to focus on one idea for very long because when I do I find that another one always wants my attention or has gone off to get up to mischief in the back of my mind then comes back having upset half a dozen other ideas by taking their characters, plots and scenes and using them for themselves.
This probably all sounds like pointless rambling, but what I’m trying to get at is that just writing the same transformation over and over gets boring and whether I intend to or not, many times ideas can take on a life of their to take me down a path I hadn’t initially planned. In this case, I leaned much more into the horror than the erotica and truth be told I really enjoyed it – it allowed me to stretch my literary muscles much more.
Don’t worry, this blog will always be devoted to erotic content, however every now and then I will probably post stories like these that toe the line between erotica and another genre to the point the erotica may even be secondary. I can only hope people enjoy such stories on their own merits.
I actually wrote this piece for Halloween last year, however once Aiden and Erika came on the scene and took up an entire week of content this piece was lost in the shuffle. I’m really happy to have this out there now and I hope you found it as intriguing to read as I found it to write.
Alas, I’m afraid I do not have any links to the models in these images since I unfortunately do not know who any of them are. I believe the image with the snake being swallowed is from a TV series, but again I wouldn’t be able to tell you which one as I simply don’t know. If anybody does have any information on any of these models, please do let me know and I will be sure to provide links to their work.
This piece also marks the start of a two-week schedule change in which I’ll be releasing three stories per week along with a special bonus piece on Halloween itself. The stories consist of a few pieces from my backlog that I felt would fit well with the Halloween theme even if they’re not explicitly Halloween-focused themselves, a Latex World Order longform story and a couple of pieces I’ve written up in the past few weeks. They’ll be coming out on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so stay tuned for a spooky two weeks on the blog.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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2 Thoughts on “First Born”
Wonderful story, love how he was running towards his predetermined fate, no more lies, only truth and acceptance of who she really is.
Exactly. I enjoyed twisting his perceptions of good and evil and the inexorable nature of his pursuers made for a really fun means of wearing him down until he was powerless against them and willingly agreed to his fate.