Chapter 12: The Hags of Osolet (R-18)

Sophia weaved between the thick trees and tangled brambles, looking for… Well, that was the thing, she wasn’t quite sure just what she was looking for. Her little brother Simon was sick. Sicker than she or her family had ever seen before.

While on a shift at the Slow Prince Pub, she’d heard a couple of men talking about a cure for the plague diseasing their town. One that required a lot of searching in the Forest of Osolet. She would do anything in her family, and trekking through a forest didn’t seem like too bad a necessity if it meant saving her brother. Once she’d shown interest in it, the men had cautioned her that this was better left to a man, but she’d brushed them off. She was an adult now. Never mind that she’d never walked further than the edge of her village or that the most difficult job she’d ever had was working at the Slow Prince. No, once Sophia set her mind to something, she wouldn’t be persuaded.

And so, she pressed on. A canteen hung half-empty around her full hips, bumping into her thigh with every step. She’d donned her oldest skirts and a loose-fitting tunic, but her mother had insisted she wear a corset anyway. No lady of their house would be seen in such disheveled dress, she’d said. Sophia had agreed between grit teeth, but it certainly made the hike a difficult one. Her parents didn’t actually know where she was, of course. Her mother would have fainted, and she couldn’t deal with her father’s scolding for the third time that week. She’d save Benjamin on her own.

She did wish she would have had the foresight to bring something to eat, though. Her stomach grumbled uncomfortably beneath the corset.

“What a pretty thing you are,” a voice crooned from behind her.

Sophia jumped out of her skin. She’d only had the company of birds and the occasional rustling bush—which hadn’t scared her. Not one bit. She spun on her heel, nearly toppling over into the dead leaves. Steadying herself with her arms out, she searched with frantic fervor. But no one was there.

“H-hello?” Sophia’s heart pounded hard against her chest, her breathing short. “Who’s there?”

“I’m right here, dear.”

She turned, eyes meeting the haggard, decrepit face of an old woman only inches from her own. How was that possible? She hadn’t heard anyone approach. Falling back a few steps, Sophia ran a hand over her skirts and toyed with the fastenings of her canteen. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same. What brings such a lovely girl into the great big forest, hm?” Her skin hung loosely from her face in hundreds of wrinkles; her crooked form bent halfway over a gnarled walking stick. Colored rags were patched together in what could have passed for a dress but looked more like a burlap sack spit out from a rainbow.

But she was still an old woman in the middle of the forest. Maybe she was lost, too? Or perhaps she could help Sophia find what she was looking for? She seemed kind enough. “I…I heard there was something here that could cure any illness. But I don’t really know what it is.”

“Ah, yes, you must be from the village nearby.”

Sophia nodded.

“We’ve had many men visit us lately in search of the cure for their most unfortunate plague. I’m surprised to see a woman.” She accented Sophia’s sex in a way that made it sound vile.

Sophia wrinkled her nose and felt a familiar heat rush to her cheeks. What did her being a woman have anything to do with it? She’d heard it all her life—her failings for being female. That she’d be serving tables till the day she bore children for a working man, then serving tables again until the day she died. For heaven’s sake, it was why she was dressed in a corset, starving herself in the middle of a forest instead of armed and wearing appropriate traveling clothes. “Why does it matter that I’m a woman, you great cow?”

The old woman’s eyes raised, a slight smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “Interesting,” she murmured.

Realizing that she’d let her temper get the better of her, Sophia clapped her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean…It’s just…”

“Oh, you meant it.” Her green eyes sparkled, wisps of white hair danced around her face. She approached Sophia and set a hand on her arm. “Come along. You may be useful after all.”

Before Sophia could protest, the scene around her folded and evaporated. Suddenly she stood before two other old women stooped over a boiling pot, tossing all manner of ingredients inside: small, writhing creatures, roots, vegetables. One woman was corpulent with boils and pocks on her bare skin. Her grey hair was pulled back tight around her flabby face. A long, dirt-smeared wrap squeezed around her chest, allowing her pale, thick arms and plump skin to pour over it. The other had an emaciated frame with sunken eyes and blanched flesh. A hood partially obscured her face, but the fire licking the pot illuminated enough for Sophia to see.

“Sisters, another seeks the antidote.” The one holding her arm cackled.

The wiry one looked up, examining Sophia with her glittering gaze. The three women appeared worn and weary, but their eyes were anything but. Those eyes held centuries of knowledge. Intelligent, old, hungry. “Oh, Morena. She is lovely, but what will we do with a woman?”

“She herself gave me an idea,” Morena said, pushing Sophia forward.

“It’d be a shame to waste the brew on a lass,” the fat one looked longingly into the pot, tossing a squeaking, struggling mouse into the mixture. It hit the boiling liquid with a hiss, and Sophia cringed.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” Sophia piped up nervously. “I didn’t know I would have to…do anything for the antidote.”

The three hags exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. The sound grated against Sophia’s ears like the out of tune bards who performed at the Slow Prince. Morena wiped a tear from her eye.

“Ungrateful curs, the lot of you. Humans want everything handed to them for free on a silver platter. You should all die from this curse,” the thin one spat through rolls of laughter. “As I was just saying to Physa, it is a shame that so many of you were immune.”

“Now, now, Hellebron, don’t spill all of our secrets.” The larger of the two dipped her finger into the brew, seemingly untouched by the scalding water.

“C-curse?” Sophia’s heart sped. “What do you mean, curse?”

“’Tis nothing, dear. You wish for the cure, do you not?” Morena pushed Sophia closer towards the pot, gesturing to the bubbling, iridescent liquid. “It is right here. You only need to entertain us for a spell.”

“But I—”

“Your brother is sick, is he not?” Physa stared straight into Sophia’s soul. “You can smell the fear off you, girl. And you’re right to fear it. You’ve watched the bodies wheeled out of your village, yes? Simon’s corpse will be the next on the cart without this antidote.”

Sophia swallowed hard against the building lump in her throat. Morena’s gnarled fingers trailed down the back of her neck, dancing along her spine. An unfamiliar sensation tingled in her shoulders, spreading across her collar bone and drifting into her chest. Her corset strained against the sudden swelling of her expanding breasts, the ties tearing at the grommets with frightening speed.

“You’re a barmaid, aren’t you, love? Your patrons are there for one reason, and yours aren’t very…pronounced. If you catch my meaning.” Morena cackled.

“What?” Sophia asked dumbly, eyes locked on her bloating chest. Her breasts pushed above the corset, dangling free above the boning, stretching her tunic until it barely covered the sensitive nipples. The shifting fabric felt far more intense against her skin than it had only moments before. She could feel every tug and pull on her skin, like the fondling of a curious lover. The sensation was far more pleasurable than she wanted to admit.

Hellebron clapped her hands in delight, hobbling around the cauldron and approaching Sophia. “This is a wonderful game, sister! Yes, entertaining indeed!”

“You two are so easily amused,” Physa grumbled, shuffling behind Hellebron while sucking at her fingers. “The men were much easier to manipulate to our wishes.”

“Come now, give her a chance. She came all this way, after all.” Morena’s tone danced on saccharine malice. Her fingers ran the length of Sophia’s spine, below her corset, to the top of her dress, then into thin air.

“What are you…what is this?” Sophia cried in horror, pressing against the tops of her breasts, attempting to keep within the confines of her corset.

“You should be thanking her! Many women would kill for such a blessing,” Hellebron giggled.

Sophia’s chest soon became a weight too much to bear. She found herself on her hands and knees, panting from exhaustion and arousal. The same tingling feeling reverberated from her spine to her lower back and out further. Impossibly further, where there was no longer skin to touch, yet she felt a touch on skin.

“Now which one of us is the cow?” Morena hissed.

A slender tail poked free of her skirts, lifting and twitching near Morena’s fingers. Her underthings dangled near the tuft of hair.

Physa lifted them away. “These would blow away with a mild breeze.

A dark red hue painted Sophia’s face. Her breasts brushed the floor, and she shivered, the soft caresses and flicks of her tail compounding on her nerves. Sophia tried to hold back the moans that threatened behind her lips. Willed the heat to stop rushing between her legs.

“Ah, I see,” Hellebron noted, then laughed. “She called you a cow?”

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“Oh, yes. Quite adamantly, in fact.” Morena twisted a fist in Sophia’s golden hair, forcing her head back for all to see. “How humiliating to enjoy this.”

Sophia quivered beneath her grasp, chewing on her bottom lip to suppress the gasps, and closed her eyes. She didn’t want them to see her eyes rolling back. No, she didn’t want them to see any of this.

Physa sniffed the air then wrinkled her nose. “Like a dog in heat. Disgraceful.” She huffed and flicked a discarded hand toward Sophia. “I should expect little more from a tavern whore.”

“I…I am not s-such thing.” Warring with pleasure against logic, Sophia ripped her head free, mewling from the pain. She slowly backed away from the witches, trying to force herself back to standing. But she couldn’t lift her enormous breasts. They dragged along the dirt with every inch taken, eventually tugging the tunic away from her skin, her nipples bared and chafed against the ground. She cried out in frustration. “Let me go!”

“No, no, deary, that won’t do.” Hellebron limped to Sophia’s side. With one hand on Morena’s cane, she leaned in and stroked Sophia’s head. “That will not do at all.”

More tingling from her head swept into her hands and feet. The sound of tearing leather echoed in the room, and Morena laughed—an ear-splitting roar that rang in Sophia’s ears. Her fingers and toes felt…hard. Solid and unmoving. She lifted one hand to find it had transformed into a hoof. Lifting one leg, she discovered her hoofed foot protruding from one leather boot. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes.

“Oh-ho, that is delightful! You catch on so quickly, Hellebron,” Morena exclaimed.

Physa bodily forced her way between her two sisters, gripped Sophia’s hair, and thrust her to her knees. Her strength was better compared to a woodsman than an old hag. Sophia yelped, and Physa paid it no mind, ripping the strings from her corset with her free hand. “Cows have more than two udders, you twits.”

“Oh! Then shall we turn her into a real cow?” Hellebron asked with a toothless grin. “She could supply us milk for eternity!”

“Perhaps if she tries to escape again,” Morena replied, her joyous demeanor replaced with something far darker. “I don’t believe Simon would take an antidote from a cow, do you?”

A chill struck Sophia’s heart. She couldn’t be a cow. She had to help Simon.

“Wised up now, have you?” Physa snarled her frustration and tossed the corset aside. To her sisters, she said, “At least a cow would be as useful as the men you bring us.” She snagged a handful of Sophia’s tunic and tore it away from her body, adding it to the pile with her corset.

“I-I, please. No…” Sophia pleaded, and her blush deepened as the three women laughed at her ludicrous proportions.

“Huh, ‘No,’ she says. Mewl louder, little one.” Physa let her drop back to the floor, raking her hand across the girl’s bare back.

More weight emerged beneath Sophia’s chest near the top of her abdomen. A second pair of breasts formed below the first, jostling the tender skin aside, fighting for their place on Sophia’s body until they finally reached the floor.

The smallest movements around her—the delicate breeze through the windows of the cottage, the laughter of the hags, the incessant twitching of her body—was another caress of her skin. Another kiss. The sensation of soft lips around her nipples, even though they were only pried and massaged by the cool dirt. Someone stroked the length of her tail, and she found herself leaning into it. Her pleasure dripped down the insides of her thighs, her body throbbing for release. She found herself purposefully rocking her shoulders and leaning in on her breasts, grinding her nipples into the ground.

Physa’s eyes widened. “Well, I suppose I should have expected that.”

“She needs ears!” Hellebron cried. She tapped each side of the top of Sophia’s head. Two ears sprouted from her yellow hair, dragging feeling into space where there was none. The sounds of their laughter were more jarring, more pungent.

“And a few spots, I think,” Morena added, yanking away Sophia’s skirts with rickety tugs. They joined the building pile of Sophia’s clothing, leaving her completely naked in the company of the hags.

“She’s soaked to the skin!” Hellebron cackled. “At your age, I would have died of embarrassment. You must be a popular choice among men.”

“N-no… Please,” Sophia breathed. Without her realizing it, the rest of her skin had become just as sensitive as her breasts. The open air took full advantage of it alongside the hags.

Morena brushed her fingers along Sophia’s backside, tracing shapes along the supple lines of her cheeks and thighs. Sophia quivered beneath her touch, hissing air between her teeth. Within the confines of the forms traced along her flesh appeared patches of black and white amongst her body’s soft, ivory map. Hellebron brushed them as if petting a fond pet.

“A-ah!” Sophia squealed, not expecting the sudden, pleasant sensation.

“Just a hungry beast, this one.” Despite the distaste in her words, Physa fingered one of Sophia’s long, fuzzy ears. Morena stroked her tail while Hellebron continued to weave her fingers through the patches of spotted fur.

Sophia found her head tilting, allowing the woman easier access. All manners of touch became welcome.

“But does she give milk?” Morena pondered aloud.

More tingling originated at the touch of each witch. From her ears, her tail, and the spots on her back, the sensation rushed to her chest. And before she could say a word, warm liquid poured from her nipples to the dirt, draining into pools beneath her four breasts.

“We don’t have to change her into a cow. She can give milk just like this!” Hellebron laughed. “What a beautiful sight she is, Morena!”

It was unlike anything Sophia had ever experienced before. The sensation tightened her stomach and made her clench her thighs. The sensitivity of her skin was amplified, and her back hooves slammed into the dirt.

“I…I…!” Sophia hardly recognized the sounds that escaped her throat. Animalistic, carnal moans that warped her words. The witches watched and laughed, continuing to stroke her fur. The orgasm wracked her body, the convulsions making her lactate faster, which dragged out her climax in turn. She couldn’t breathe. Her body throbbed more desperately than she’d ever felt in her life. Her tongue hung numbly from her mouth, and drool dripped to the ground. It seemed to last a lifetime. Was this to be her fate? A sex-starved cow at the behest of three hags? At the moment, it didn’t seem like such a bad one.

“Ugh! Disgusting little thing,” Physa pinched her ear and let go of her.

Hellebron turned her attention to her sister, poking the rolls above her dress. “Admit it! You enjoyed it as much as we did!”

“Nonsense, Hellebron. The girl should be locked up in a barn.” Physa spared her one more glare. “Insatiable little whore.”

Morena laughed and stroked the hair of the panting Sophia. “Now, to sleep with you.”

Before Sophia could ask what Morena meant, she’d drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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Sophia awoke lying in a patch of grass in the middle of the Forest of Osolet. She shot up, frantically searching around her.

 The sun was setting on the horizon through the trees, and twilight was beginning to set in. A bottle the size of her fist sat perched in her lap, containing an iridescent liquid the like of which Sophia had never seen before. A tiny parchment was wrapped up and attached to the cork. She carefully untied it, then unrolled it to find the words For Simon scrawled in perfect hand.

The antidote? But...how?

Her limbs cracked in protest as she rose. She found her corset tied a little differently than she remembered, and one of her boots had a strange hole through the foot. She wondered if she’d struck her head on something and lost consciousness.

No matter. This was the cure. She was sure of it.

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