PixelJail

Story by Wolvun

Pipin held her flashlight. The beam shaking along with her uneven breathing. Each snap making her jump. Each movement causing her to sweep the light towards it. With only the shawl over her shoulders, for all the good it did. The chill coursing though her body just at the thought alone of being in the Samhein woods. The cold pierced through whatever one wears, when knowing what could be waiting behind the trick trees.

The terms that the Witch of Words had laid out were simple. In exchange for going out to retrieve new knowledge, the Blue Library would be her home, and she would be taken care of within it. Impress her and perhaps she would teach Pipin a few things too. Magical things. For the Witch of Words to offer such a deal made sense. Bound within the walls of that single room, larger than explanation though it may be, her desire for the place had been its own form of misery for her.

Still, there had to be a catch for little Pipin.

Having spent…who knows how long there, the Witch of Words had access to vast amounts of knowledge. The only knowledge remaining to consume, the things that have so far not been recorded, the things she can’t reach herself.

So Pipin had to enter the forest herself, alone. Armed with only a light and a shawl, she had snuck from the Manor and made her way toward the tree line. Each step heavier than the last. Her glasses fogging from her own breathing. Wiping them with her blue shawl as she continued deeper. Trying to recall what the Witch of Words had said. Watch the trees? And the branches? And the roots?…basically, everything. She hadn’t dared speak back on the matter. Now it felt like there was eyes everywhere.

According to the rumours the Witch of Words was able to read from through the walls of her room, there was something in the Forest. An apex predator that kept witchlings from venturing too far in. Slaves and Ill Manored could only guess what was in there. Between the changing paths and carnivorous trees and nonstop danger, surely such a thing was just a witch’s tale to keep the slaves from gambling their chance for freedom…Surely.

But the Witch of Words was no fool. She would not lose her new apprentice, or more specifically, her source of new information, to whatever threat might be in the forest. Pipin’s task was simple. She need only find proof that this predator was there. Nothing more. Confirmation would still be new knowledge. If she could do the task, then perhaps she could earn more than just shelter from the Blue Library.

=

Everything was still. Everything was quiet.  Everything was still. Pipin didn’t need to wipe her glasses anymore. Once she had caught her breath, she didn’t dare let it escape again.

Lifting her glasses to rub her eyes, trying to clear them after surely beginning to see things. None of the other trees had leaves. That one there surely couldn’t be the only one. It was only when she brought the dimmed flash light up did it strike her as odd that such a well kept tree with no branches sticking out would be anywhere near this place.

The tree also had a face. Contorted into a silent scream. The eye sockets empty of their glow. She feels a tingle looking at the tree. A sensual tingle, one that she hadn’t felt since she was a prisoner of the Harvest Coven, since they tormented her, since they used pleasure against her as well as pain. Ever since she found herself free in the Blue Library she hadn’t thought about sex. The witches had somewhat ruined that experience for her with all they put her through.

Yet seeing the pain in the eyes of the tree sparked something surprisingly powerful in her, bringing her libido to life. It didn’t make sense though, she cared not for the appearance of suffering in front of her, she gladly would never see another creature suffer. She shakes her head, rejecting the idea that somehow the witches had tainted her, when a thick dollop of orangish fluid dribbled into the twisted mouth in front of her. The light continues to flicker as Pipin looks up. Taking in the massive reddish orange… gigantic pumpkink on top of the trees…

The apex predator is a pumpkolossus!

Watching, it slowly extends outward. Serrated teeth sinking further into the bark. Pulling further back, Pipin is unable to see the top of the gigantic corrupted gourd instead. Broken and covered in broken branches, and a large machete embedded in the underside. It opened like a terrifying, blossoming flower, teethed tendrils unfolding in all directions, drooling the thick internal juices of the pumpkink.

The disgusting, terrifying, drooling monster above her, chewing into wood, suckling on it, slobbering on it thickly and deeply. It’s the most scared she’s ever been in her life, and yet despite all that she can’t help but feel aroused. To think of the grotesquely phallic nature of what she’s witnessing. To think of how wet it is. Of how wet she is. Of how thick and silky smooth the blossoming tendrils look. Like they could take her and comfort her. Bring her pleasure. Release her burning desires. Her burning cravings. Her desperate, deep, longing-

Crunch!

The upper jaw of the tree was gone.

Pipin flinches as she snaps out of her sexual trance, realising how much closer the pumpkolossus had got to her. Chips and chunks fall around what remained of the tree. The crunching grind filling Pipin’s head in a way that both terrifies and comforts her. Whether or not it’s echoing, it made her grip the sides of her head. Trying desperately to keep the noise out, while trying to reject how desperate she feels between her legs.

Until it stopped. Pipin opened an eye. The pumpkolossus had stopped chewing. The bottom of the gourd directed at her. Along the rigged lines fluttered. Growling in satisfaction as it looked at her. All the folds pull back. Exposing a blackness rimmed with serrated teeth. Lapping its razor tendrils. The spiked teeth seeming to shrink into the soft fleshy petals of the creature as it reached out to her. To take her. To invite her into its gaping, dripping maw. It was pitch black between the glistens of flesh and juices. At night, on the underside of the creature, she could see nothing inside. She didn’t need to see anything to know, somehow, that her longing, aching arousal would be relieved by accepting the invitation. But she did briefly hear something. Screams. From inside the opening of the monster, she could hear the longing, aching screams of people.

Pipin didn’t even realise she had started running. Pipin didn’t even hear herself screaming. Pipin didn’t hear it roaring. Nor the crunch of trees being twisted as the giant stem legs carried the creature above the tree line clunkily chasing her down from above. She didn’t feel any pain as she tripped and fell face first into the dirt. She did feel the vacuum of air being sucked away slowly and sensually as the nightmare reached down from the tree tops.

That hungry emptiness aimed directly for her, sucking her in, promising pleasures she couldn’t know.

Her legs were wet. Between her legs were also wet. As it descended on her again, the tentacles surrounding her, she reached between her legs and…

She felt something soft on her knees. There was something folded over in her hand. The card the Blue Lady had given her, folded in half!

As her desperation to climax reached a level she’d never experienced before, seeing the card to the Blue Library, her safe haven, snapped her out of it just long enough to flip open the card.

There were shelves around her. The Blue Lady stood before her looking down at her convulsing form. An expression of mild annoyance having the carpet soaked of the piss and cum of her new apprentice, rolling about in writhing confusion.

“I see you have much to tell.”

—

–After observing the creature with some distance between then and now, I can make some theories as to how such a creature has appeared in the Forest. Like all pumpkinks, they are required to feed on Misery. However, this far from the Manor the Misery concentration is drastically lower. So much so that the pumpkinks lose the incentive to be patient. Betweeen the Trick Trees and others predators, what little Misery reaches this far needs to be claimed by aggressive force.

-This feral pumpkolossus cannot sit on its haunches. The Misery is so thin that it gets no respect from it’s brood and cannot feed them from a stationary position. Instead, it must seek out prey wherever it may chance upon. The creature climbs above the tree line and drops down before giving chance. It has become a mobile, hunting predatory pumpkolossus.