Date: Sun, 8 Mar 2015 01:50:53 -0700
From: mike . <ccmike1@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Forests of Yavva part 1

The Forests of Yavva (part 1)

Foreword:

    This is a work of erotic fiction set in a fantasy setting. There is
magic, lycanthropy, and mythical creatures. I write as a hobby, and
appreciate any feedback, comments, collaboration opportunities or
otherwise. Enjoy!


    "Are not these woods more free from peril, than the envious court?"
        ~ Shakespeare, 'As You Like It'


"Hey!" An almost growl rang out through the forest. I spun around to find
him, about twenty feet away. He stood frowning, his hands balled in fists
and his eyes fixed on me. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"I'm only passing through," I reasoned.

His eyes ran over me, and he took a step forward. "What is your name?" His
voice had softened, but I was just as intimidated.

That same nausea ran through me as I tried to recall. I had woken several
days earlier, with the morning calls of birds in a clearing littered with
charred wood and ash. My body and head aching, I realized that I could not
recollect anything about myself. I knew I was in a forest, and could even
name the birds by their song; but no matter how hard I tried to remember
who I was, the result was always the same headache.

"I don't remember." I answered plainly.

He did not respond immediately, and for a while we stared at each other. He
was a short man, but solidly built. Thick forearms protruded from his earth
tone garb, and dark body hair seemed to line all skin that was exposed. His
face hid behind a thick auburn beard that matched the color of his eyes.

Finally, he broke the silence with a bemused smirk. "No name, hmmm? You are
human, yes?"

That much, I knew. "I am," I responded. "And you; you are human?"

The top of his lip flinched: an almost involuntary snarl. "What are you
really doing here?"

"I woke several days ago, without memory, in the ruins of what I can only
assume was my home. I think there was an accident, but there were no
people, no bodies; just me. I have been traveling these woods, hoping to
find something or someone." I nervously laughed, feeling all the more
awkward as I confessed my bizzare story. "You must think me mad."

As I bumbled on, the wariness in his eyes seemed to lighten. The sounds of
the birds, insects and the woods itself filled the quiet. Finally he
approached me, and with a look of perhaps sympathy he took both my hands in
his. "I believe you," he stated. "It is fortunate for you wandered into my
territory, and that it was I who found you."

With a squeeze of my hands and a deep exhale, he released them. "It will be
dark soon. We must go."

The afternoon wore on as he led us along game trails and paths that seemed
to lead into denser foliage. He moved with a surprising amount of stealth
and ease. Being several steps behind him, I allowed my eyes to wander and
really take him in. He was not a tall man, but he was stocky and slightly
muscular. His hair was short and a reddish brown, and melted into a full
beard.

On occasion he would stop, cocking his head listening to the echoed
chatters of the forest. One such time, he asked me, "Do you hear them?"

I stood next to him and held still, intent to hear what he did. First came
the babbling of some far off brook, and the whispers of the wind against
the canopy above; underneath this, the chirping of birds, and the humming
of insects.

As I concentrated, my eyes happened to rest on his chest. I watched it rise
gently with the depth of his breath, an even layer of red and black chest
hair protruded from the v of his tunic, and I felt a twitch in my groin.

"Do you hear it?" Slightly startled, my eyes met his. He half-smiled. "They
call it the pulse of Yavva," he softly spoke.

"Yavva... it... is the name of these woods."

"Yes," he smiled, "It seems you remember some things after all."

The forest sound took us, and I realized there was a pulse, very faint and
very far. Steadily, it drummed the slightest cadence. "Drums," I said
aloud.

He smiled again, "Yes. A festival of the Satyrs. Do you know of them?"

As the drums faintly pulsed, I realized I did know of the Satyrs. Images of
their festival danced in the corners of my mind.

"Hedonists," he smiled. "Anything, to celebrate."

We continued on our way, the path before us growing more and more
overrun. The pinpoints of light that did shine through turned orange, and
then purple. The last wisps of light were all but dying as we came to a
clearing, partway up a hill.

His cabin was anything but out of place amongst the woods. It was
constructed of a red cedar with a stone foundation, a large porch out front
with hanging lamps and wooden chairs. A handful of windows dotted the
walls, the glass well tempered with ripples of imperfections that caught
the last glow of daylight. A neat pile of wood stacked one side with a
chopping axe in stump, a few feet away. A stone chimney protruded from the
far side of the cabin, and wild ivy grew freely around it.

He nodded to the cabin, and grunted "home". I was stunned by it's
provincial beauty. "It's beautiful." He looked away, hiding behind his
bushy beard. "I-- never asked your name," I awkwardly said.

He cleared his throat. "Keevoh. The cabin is not very large, but you are
welcome to share it with me."

With not even my own name to offer, I dumbly replied. "Thank you, Keevoh."

A moment passed, he looked back to me, briefly smiled, then walked towards
the porch. "Come on. Dinner must be started."

The door creaked very gently, as routine seemed to take him. Though the
wood of the cabin itself carried, the odors escaping the cabin were more
than enough to take over. Wildflowers and rosemary, old smoke and earth,
and a subtle musk, that clearly was his. I inhaled deeply, a near reflex to
the wonderful combination. Some of it was familiar, and seemed to coalesce
around those gray untouchable memories. Wood and smoke. These seemed all
too familiar. The musk that was his, though foreign was arousing. Already,
I could feel a quickening of my pulse, and that twitch in my groin.

I followed him in, and allowed my eyes to adjust. Methodically, he was
already spanning the distance of the cabin, headed towards a large chest
underneath a large wood table. A single chair was tucked underneath, which
held a stack of clay dishes, journals and parchment.

Opening the chest, he produced glass jars and leather envelopes of roots,
beans, spices and dried fish. Already set to his routine, without turning
he said, "There is a chest by the bed. There are candles and a flint, for
starting the fire."

I turned to find the bed. A mattress, very close to the floor, I was
surprised to see very little bedding. There were no furs, just a dark brown
sheet, and the single blanket half covering it and two small
pillows. Opposite the bed was the fireplace, which was impressive and
almost out of place in so simple a cabin. The wood turned to stone in thick
smoothed slabs that covered the floor, then lifted as a semi-circle which
held the pit itself. A cooking bar and pot sat above white and gray ashes,
the back (all stone) led up to a massive chimney shoot, which didn't seem
to taper off until right before converging with the room.

I struck the flint lighting one of the candles, and began to pass it's
flame to the others. They were scattered throughout the room: on the sill
above the bed, over the fireplace, and around to the table where reaching
past him I allowed the flame of my candle to light those on the windowsill.

He was calmly to his task of preparing dinner, and I couldn't help but
admire him in the fire's glow. It flickered gently over his face, and he
paused a moment to look at me. He smiled wryly, but said nothing.

Suddenly embarrassed, I looked away. "Your cabin is beautiful. All the more
in firelight." I marveled.

"Fire is sacred. For the forest it enables life and yields destruction. It
is said among my kind that within all beings, there are three. One seem by
day, one seen by night, and the last by fire."

I realized as he spoke, he was not just looking at me but looking into
me. He was sizing me up, trying to read my eyes. I glanced away, then
re-met his gaze (which had not wavered).

The knife he had been using he audibly set down, and I found his hand
gently taking the candle from me. He shook it out, and without breaking eye
contact, also set it down. I am sure my eyes conveyed uncertainty, but this
did not deter his own. His hands then raised to the sides of my face, and
with an inaudible growl, he pulled me into his kiss.

I felt the roughness of his beard and inhaled that musky smell that was so
uniquely his, and allowed his lips and tongue to part mine.

He growled softly, one hand re-adjusting to the back of my neck, cradling
me into mouth. His tongue lapped deliberately against mine, coaxing it
slowly back into his. I sighed, giving in, as my hands wrapped around his
sides. He gave a grunt of approval, and pulled me hard against him. His
solid belly and chest were against me, and the strength of his arm began
groping around me.

He was now softly pulling at my tongue with his teeth, and I turned my head
slightly to allow our mouths a deeper melding. A higher, more desperate
moan escaped me, which produced a slow guttural laugh from him. He paused,
clearly enjoying the abandon that he was so aptly drawing from me. He
pulled out of the kiss, and our eyes locked again.

He had the faintest of smiles, and a look of both lust and satisfaction. He
knew he had me, even though I did not at the time. We looked on at each
other, reading each other and relishing what had happened. My breath was
slow to recover, and I watched his looks upon me turn inward to somewhere
deeper. I realized then that he knew he had me, but that there was
pause. It did not seem like hesitation, but still a decision he was
making. Where there was lust in his eyes, there was also an intelligence--
fierce, and commanding.

It was also then, I wondered who Keevoh truly was... what were his motives?
With not even my own self-knowledge, in ways I allowed him then and there
to begin to fill those gaps within myself. What had certainly been
established in that kiss was evident: he would call the shots, from here on
out.

"Start the fire, and lets get supper started. You are going to need your
energy," he commanded, with the most basic of smiles.

* * *

He had only one chair, so we ate our supper on the floor near the
fireplace. It was the first night the chill of the autumn did not disturb
me, and I relished the warmth of the fire as well as Keevoh's company. I
was still shaking slightly, my mind running wild with what I knew was to be
only the beginning of something much deeper.

"It is nice to share your fire. Though gentle, the winds these past nights
have carried a certain chill."

"The wind plays harbinger of the coming winter. It will be a cold one, and
long."

We finished our meal to the crackling of the fire.

He broke the silence, with a wry smile. "For lack of name, I'm not quite
sure what to call you."

I laughed uneasily, lost for an answer.

He smiled. "Come; it is not winter yet."

I followed him outside on his porch, and he produced a pipe. Sitting on a
long bench, he lit it and the smell of pungent herbs filled my nostrils.

I sat next to him, feeling the warmth his body was radiating. He took a
long drag, and exhaled with a deep sigh. He handed the pipe to me, and an
instinct took over as I lit it, sucking in the skunky smoke. As a warm
tingling moved through me, he asked, "Do you know it?"

I smiled. "This is Sylvan. This is... Elvish."

He chuckled, "The best in Yavva."

He put his arm around me, and I reached over half hugging him. My
enthusiasm drew a chuckle from him, and he muttered, "here," and took
another drag off the pipe. This time though, he turned to me and pressed
his mouth on mine. His lips parted, and I instinctively inhaled as he blew
the smoke into me.

When we finally parted mouths, the pleasant tingling I had once felt
ignited into a warm bliss. I became sensitive to his big meaty hand around
my shoulder, softly caressing at me. I wanted to lay my head on him, but
more than that I wanted to kiss him again. I leaned in expectantly, and
grinning he kept his face out of range.

"Easy there," he chuckled, and he took another drag. The second one he
breathed into me again, and once expelled ran his tongue against the inside
of my mouth. I heard that deep guttural growling again as he pulled me
closer. I eagerly complied, pressing my body against his.

Feeling rather inebriated, everywhere he touched echoed in my mind. He
pawed at me with lust, his hands groping as my body would react and
conform- pushing closer to him still.

His tongue was now again in my mouth pressing on my own. His hands suddenly
slid down, cupping my ass. He ushered me up on top of him, and leaned back
as I half straddled him. Without warning he yanked my pants down, and I
moaned into his kiss as the cold air fell sharply on my exposed backside.

His hands rubbed over my ass cheeks, and suddenly I felt one of his thick
fingers massaging at my hole. He wasted no time running his fingers along
the outside of my hole, pushing and wiggling the tips of them in, one and
then another.

Slowly but forcibly, he pulled me back, my hair in his hand. His eyes were
ablaze with a fierceness, and I could almost hear him mutter beneath his
bushy beard *You're mine*. He then produced his other hand, and pointed two
meaty fingers to my face. "Suck," he commanded.

I took them into my mouth without hesitation, swirling my tongue, as his
other hand (still on the back of my head) pulled me up and down. "That's
it. Nice as wet," he softly breathed.

Pulling them out, he positioned them against my hole. "Put your head on my
chest."

I did as he told me, moaning into the musky sweat from his shirt as he
pushed both fingers into me. The heat of his chest was matched with the
heat of his fingers, and he methodically started working them in and out of
me.

As one hand worked my ass, the other wrapped around me. Curled on his
chest, ass exposed and tended to, I was for the first time with what little
memory I had, content. The intensity and perhaps the tensions of this first
exploration seemed to give way for both of us. His breathing became deeper
and more paced, and his fingers slowed to a gentle massage inside of me. I
closed my eyes, enjoying the heat of his body and the foreboding scent of
his sweat.

A moan escaped me as he forcibly pushed a third finger in my ass.

"I knew when I first saw you that I would get inside of you." He pushed his
fingers deeper into me. I rocked forward, as my swollen cock began to
dribble precum on his furry belly. "Mounting you, making you cry out,
begging for more.", he growled softly. At that time, I felt his arm tighten
against my neck, pulling me harder against his chest.

I breathed him in deeply, as he continued working open my hole. Even though
my ass was exposed to the chill of the night, I didn't mind. Instinctively
I tried once to lift my head from his hold. He growled in response, and I
felt his bicep squeeze my neck, pressing my face closer still to
him. "You're not going anywhere, boy. Tonight, you become mine. You want
that?" I gasped as he started working my hole, pushing his big fingers in
and out. "Well?"

"Please..." I finally managed.

"I've been waiting for a boy like you to call my own. You want to be my
boy? You going to give it up; be my boy, my mate, my fucktoy?"

"Yes!" I cried out, now completely lost and enveloped in him. It felt like
he was working into me, in more ways than one, and I felt myself
surrendering to it all.

In one swift motion he got up, slinging me effortlessly over his
shoulder. As he carried me into the cabin, I looked up to a very yellow,
full moon. He tossed me onto the bed. I scrambled to turn to him with a
growing sense of alarm and unshakeable horniness. The way he talked to me
and manhandled me, made me want to submit to him all the more. In the void
of my identity, here he was-- this sexy beast of a man.

On my back, prone and submissive, I looked up at him panting in lust. His
fingers flexed, and balled into fists as his eyes moved over my body,
finally fixating on my ass. He growled lowly, and I instinctively pulled my
legs back, locking them in the nook of my elbows.

"Good boy, that's it. Show me that ass." he said. I moaned, and pulled my
legs back further exposing my hole.

He moved in, those big meaty hands cupped my ass cheeks and slowly pulled
apart. I cried out as I felt his tongue darting furiously around and in my
hole. He bit at my ass, and when I clenched up forced his tongue back in. I
felt it wiggling, driving deeper in before pulling up into a long, hard
drag out of my ass and up to my balls. I shuddered at the feeling of his
thick beard running against me as he took both my balls into his mouth.

He started stroking me hard, his other hand now knuckling against my open,
wet hole. He stroked me like this for some time, his tongue moving wildly
against my balls and his fingers starting to push into my ass. He would at
times pull at my balls, just to the point where I'd feel a stretching. Just
when it would start to be painful, he'd let up, all the while furiously
jacking my cock.

I gave in, allowing the ecstasy he was facilitating to dictate my
reactions. I bucked, moaned, arched, and cried out, all of which just
seemed to encourage him further.

Just as I felt my balls begin to tighten and that white light of orgasm
begin to form in me, he pulled back. My eyes shot open, and disoriented, I
looked up to see him towering over me. He was heaving, growling, looking
down at me with a violent want that for a moment made me feel very
uneasy. He resembled more animal than man.

"On your hands and knees," he barked.

I pushed my doubts aside, and scrambled into position. I was desperate to
please him, and continue.

He wasted no time. Those meaty hands gripped tightly against my sides, and
I cried out in pain as he drove mercilessly deep into me. He held there for
a moment, his belly against my back and cock pulsing wildly inside of
me. The pain subsided, and on cue, he slowly began pushing in and out. He
then increased his tempo sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Mmm, right where my cock belongs," he growled as he continued to thrust
into me.

This continued for some time, his fingers digging into my side often
pulling me back against his cock. With a sudden grunt, his demeanor
changed. "Arch your back," he demanded, placing one hand against it. He
grunted and I moaned into the pillow with the sounds of his flesh audibly
slapping repeatedly against mine.

I pushed back, wanting more than ever for him to bury his seed in me. And
then he began to transform. I was so lost in the moment, that at first I
did not fully comprehend the changes. His hand grew rough, and I felt claws
sharply digging into me. The force in which he pounded against me grew, and
I strained to hold the position and not collapse completely from his
weight. The hairiness of his thighs and crotch grew more abrasive, and the
sound of flesh slapping against mine was replaced with the thud of matted
fur.

I felt my hole begin to stretch, his cock mushrooming as his orgasm
approached. He then let out a roar, and in alarm I cried out. A moment of
disoriented terror took hold of me, and I moved to escape him. He drove
into me one final time, collapsing on my prone body. What had been Keevoh
was now a very large bear, the full weight of his body pinning me down. I
struggled for a moment, panicking and unable to break free. My ass stung,
and his cock felt much, much thicker inside of me. I felt his wet snout on
my ear as he bit lightly into my shoulder.

"Aaaaa!" I cried out in pain. And then I felt the flood of cum. His cock
pulsed again and again, seeding my ass. It was so much I felt my gut cramp
for a short moment as more and more of his cum poured into me. A warmth
then spread through me, and I was overcome with a sensation of bliss and
belonging. Colors danced in the corners of my eyes, as I breathed in and
breathed out.

With every breath, Keevoh's form restored more and more, until I felt his
naked body as a man on top of me. His cock twitched one final time before
he pulled out. I moaned, and felt his cum oozing from my well bred hole.

"Are you OK?" He whispered.

"Yeah," I replied dreamily. "You... changed," I managed.

He didn't respond, but instead kissed my neck tenderly. He then slid off of
me, and pulled me into his embrace.

Perhaps my absence of identity allowed me to be feel more susceptible, but
in that moment, worn out and used, I felt utter bliss and belonging as I
drifted off to sleep in his arms.