Imagine my body: delicately scratched with the marks of branches. It hints at all of my previous encounters with this forest. Barely noticeable, the scratches blend into my smooth pale skin like little kisses from nature. This forest loves me. I roam through it. My feet barely float above the ground as I shift through, looking for something that’ll excite me. There’s magic in these woods of course. The trees see things and report back to me—many many exciting things. I run my fingers through their leaves, my dearies. Their leaves against my skin and it’s sweet smell.

 

I’ve been left yearning again. I know I’m missing half my face and most of my shirt, but I don’t remember why? I feel shattered and disparate. I need to find something to do. Boredom is terrifying. Cute things can help with that, but they’re rare these days. Cute things are amazing because they generally do whatever you want. They need tending to because they don’t know what’s good for them. What’s good for them is me of course. They don’t know this, but they do feel it—especially after I’ve already showed them. But I’m not seeing any cute things around here.

 

Imagine me shifting through this place: wind caressing my body. It’s practically sex if you think about it—the wind engulfing me. My feet are sensitive to the ground’s touch, so when I accidentally graze against the ground, it tingles all the way up to my little area. I bend into the sensation—being alive is bliss. I'm almost not bored. My skirt just barely rests on my hips and I feel up my tummy and under my crop top. I overwhelm myself. The trees shoot compliments as I pass them. Being alive is bliss.

 

Oh? I finally spot something. From here it looks like a cute thing, but it might be an evil thing. Let’s pretend they’re a cute thing: I want to control them. I want to sit next to them and watch my aura slowly take its toll on them. I want it to wrap around them and not let go, until they kneel before me and beg. Then I’ll pick it up and spit on it. I’ll make it lick me starting at my feet and ending wherever they want—which in most cases ends up being this one particular spot. I’ll coat their face and it’ll be so cute! Little plaything under me!  Boredom is nearly gone—they're right there waiting for me.

 

As I glide towards them, my excitement grows and my heart races. My body is quivering for the first time in ages. I can feel my powers surging through my blood as my control is slipping away. They’re so cute I want them. My aura is dancing and my finger reaches to touch them. My breath quickens and my voice crackles with an animalistic need. I could completely lose myself. I could completely submit to my impulses. This cute thing is mine. My nectar throbs. I imagine her exploring my body and I imagine her lips blessing me. I need her.

 

“Oh? You’re back here again?”

 

Weird. This must be a cute thing I’ve already used. I don’t remember her face though.

 

“Oh my, I’ve left quite a mark on you.”

 

This cute thing is inspecting my scratched-up shirt. They’re inspecting the scratches on my body with their fingernail. I can’t wait to take over her desire. Now she’s tracing her finger against my cheek.

 

“Are you already ready to have another go at me? Let’s see if you are.”

 

With no hesitation she reaches up my skirt. This cute thing doesn’t really know how this works I guess—they’re supposed to be begging for it, but I don’t mind this. I let out a soft moan which will for sure be enough to lull them into doing as I say.

 

“Do you remember my name? Cute thing?”

 

Oh my, she doesn’t even realize that she’s the cute thing, which makes her even cuter!

 

“No, I don’t, can you remind me deary?”

 

“It’s Elara, cute thing,” she giggles.

 

My heart is beating even harder now. Such a pleasant and sweet name. I wish I could say it over and over again as she becomes my plaything.

 

“Kneel for me please.”

 

I kneel for her. My aura is just about taking her over.  Finally, I have something exciting to do.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve just been gliding through the forest thinking of me—getting yourself all pent up and wet. Now why don’t you go back to worshiping me again, hm? You can start at my thighs this time. Don’t work your way up to fast, hun. Make sure you lick and kiss every square inch of my thighs first.”

 

I nod thankfully and look at her softness. I’m her cute thing, so I guess I should do everything she says? I don’t know what’s good for me but I think she does.