They say there’s a witch who lives deep in the forest. A seductress, who lures young men and women to their death. They say she can cast marvelous spells, cure any illness, and grant great wealth. They say she’s a demon. They say she’s blessed by the gods. They say many things, but all of them agree that she’s real.

I swallow my trepidation, and step off the path and into the thicket. There’s a sign, warning of the witch. It instructs travelers to stay on the road, lest they risk ensnarement. For me, the sign acts only as a signal to step into the woods.

One wonders if perhaps the witch set that sign up herself.

I’ve scarcely lost sight of the trail when things take a turn for the odd. Plants twist in strange shapes. Flowers bloom in unnatural colors, and fungi I’ve never before seen sprout from the trees. There’s a sweet scene in the air, one that leaves me faintly dizzy.

It’s no matter. I need to get through here. I have nowhere else to go if I wish for my illness to be cured.

I brace myself on a tree, and my hand comes away sticky with sap. It’s thick, gooey, and tingles faintly against my skin. The odd desire to lick the sticky substance strikes me, and I dismiss it out of hand. Everyone knows not to eat strange substances, especially in the witch’s forest.

My foot sticks, and I turn to see thick mud encasing my boot. I didn’t even notice the odd patch of bog. I tug, but the boot refuses to come out. A glance around reveals that nothing is coming to take advantage of me. No beasts, no living plants, and no cackling witch. I bend down, and undo the straps on my boot, allowing me to tug my foot free. The moss on the forest floor is soft and inviting, and I can’t help but wiggle my toes. A smile tugs at my lips, and on a whim, I take off my other boot and rest my second bare foot on the soft floor.

I keep my eyes glued to the floor as I progress through the forest, careful to avoid further bogs. This, unfortunately, means I don’t notice the thorn plant until it digs into my travelling cloak. Leaving it behind is a loss, but one that I can recover from. It’ll all be worth it.

Besides, it’s rather warm out here. Hot, almost. I’m dripping with sweat, and my clothes feel heavy on my frame. Worse than that, I’m overly sensitive. The coarse fabric scratches and irritates my skin. I’m tempted to remove my clothing, but for some reason that thought makes the heat worse.

The sound of running water catches my ears, and I drift towards the source on instinct. There’s a small, bubbling brook, sprouting from the top of a large rock overhang. Clear water drips down like a small waterfall, and before I can think better of it, I drop my bag and approach. I step under the stream, and gasp at the cool relief it grants. Even better, the water is sweet to taste. I swallow down mouthful after mouthful.

A shiver crawls across my skin. Right, I stepped under the water fully clothed. Even if it’s hot out, wearing wet clothing is a sure way to get sick. I blink away the odd pink filter creeping about the edge of my vision, and tug off my sopping wet shirt. It falls to the ground with a splat, and my trousers follow soon after. It takes barely a second for me to decide my wet underwear is too uncomfortable, and the shorts end up on the pile with the rest.

I step back under the stream, and take another soothing mouthful of the sweet water. My hands slide across my body, from my modest breasts to my thin hips. Water trails down my nude form, washing me bare of my shame and inhibitions. A giggle slips past my lips.

The other girls at the village used to tease me for my boyish hips, but it all feels so foolish now. Out here, I can be free. I can be myself.

I can let go.

My fingers slide down to my nether regions, and I bite my lip at the pleasure the action brings. My sex is burning, begging for stimulation. I press my fingers to it again, unable to resist the promised pleasure. My other hand grips my breast, kneading it and sending fresh bolts of ecstasy through my body. I sink to my knees, the cool mud a balm to my sensitive skin, and slowly push a finger inside myself.

Another soon joins, and my moans echo through the forest unrestrained. I feel incredible. Better than I ever have before. More than that, I feel energized. Like the ailment that plagues my mind is finally gone.

Something in me rushes to the surface. Pleasure washes over me in waves, crashing through me with the force of a summer storm. I know, instinctively, that this is my peak.

I slump back on my heels, and stare up at the roof of the forest. Light trickles through the leaves, illuminating the space well enough to see. Shakily, I stand, and rub the dirt from my limbs. Oddly, the mud takes my hair with it. I experiment with my arms, and then my stomach and waist, and without fail, every bit of body hair slides off me. I should be careful to keep it off my head. I would cry if I lost my beautiful black hair, as it’s all I have left to remember my parents by.

I step out, and towards a large rock bathed in sunlight. Still soaking wet, I make the decision to lay down and wait for my clothes to dry. Everything feels so wonderful. The air hums with bliss, and my eyes see pink when I blink. Why did this forest get a reputation for curses, when every bit of it is a perfect paradise?

I close my eyes, and hum along with the breeze as my consciousness slowly fades.

Pollen tickles my nostrils as a strong gust of wind shakes the leaves above. The sweet scent calls to me—

—and I wake up to the sight of the moon, full and round above me. My skin tingles, my heart pounds, and my loins ache with need. The sickly sweet scent has completely overtaken my senses, and everywhere I look, things blur into a mess of colors and sensations. I stand up, and start to walk.

The forest continues to hum, and I follow it to the source. More sap sticks to my hand, and this time I lick it off. A moan escapes me at the taste. It’s so gloriously good. I keep walking. Moss squishes between my toes. I bump into a mushroom, and it releases a puff of spores that spin me around and fill me with joy.

Then I find her. I see her.

At the center of a clearing is a little hut. Surrounding that hut is an overgrown garden. In front of that, dances the witch.

Gorgeous blonde hair spins around her pale naked body as she dances to the hum of the forest. The moonlight reflects off her skin, highlighting her beauty and taking my breath away. She notices me, and grins the most beastly grin. Like a wolf, or a fox moments before stealing the prize hen. A trill of fear and excitement runs through me, and I remain rooted to the spot.

“I thought I felt someone in my forest,” she purrs, slowing her dance as she turns to face me. “Are you lost, kitten?”

Something inside me shivers, and I shake my head. “N-no I...”

“You were looking for me?” She’s in front of me now, a finger tracing along the side of my cheek. I lean into her, exhaling sharply at the touch. “Why would you do that?”

“I was sick,” I mumble. “Needed help.”

She runs a finger across my lip, and it comes away coated in thick sap. The witch sucks it off, and makes a satisfied hum. “Well, it seems like you’ve found your cure, haven’t you?”

“I have?” I ask, more focused on the way her body presses against mine than on her words.

“The plants of this forest can cure any ailment or wound... for a price,” she whispers, teeth nipping at my ear. Her arms wraps around me, and a wandering hand rests on my butt.

“Price?” I manage between gasps and moans. She’s touching me. Feeling me. Her lips brush across my skin like sparks on a dry field.

“Your sanity, my dear,” she purrs. “Your humanity. You’re not human anymore. You’re a pet. My pet.”

I whimper, and press my thighs together. I know she’s right. Thinking is hard, seeing is hard, my skin is so sensitive, and her touch is... is...

“Sit down, pet,” she orders. I drop to my knees, and come face to face with her bare flower. The most enticing scent brushes past me, and I very nearly dive into her without hesitation. “No need to hold back,” she adds, a hand resting on my head.

I bury my face in her snatch, and start to lick. My tongue buries itself inside her, and she lets out a long, sensual moan.

“Oh, yes, perfect,” she whispers. “I was wrong, You’re not a kitten, are you?”

I don’t respond. It doesn’t matter what I am. Her juice is like ambrosia, and her skin is like the finest of silk. I rub myself against her, and push my tongue deeper and deeper and—

“You’re like a moth, or a butterfly,” she says, and starts pulling at my head.

My mind blanks, and I cry into her muff. Pain and pleasure bleed into one another, and a thousand new senses scream at me. As quickly as it starts, it ends. I can taste the air. The sweet scent of a thousand flowers. The delicious sap on a tree across the clearing. Her arousal, the most succulent of flavors. My antennae twitch. I know how to use them, know how to feel with them, despite them only existing for seconds.

The witches fingers traces gentle circles around the base of my new appendages, and I squeak. The scape is so sensitive. She slowly drags her fingers up the length, from my pedicel to the very tips of my curled flagellum. The sensation is overwhelming, and I squeal as pleasure rocks through me one wave after another. My eyes squeeze shut, and her hands rest over my lids as I writhe on the forest floor in ecstasy.

“You’ve been having trouble seeing, haven’t you?” Her voice drips with sympathy. I nod, and the pain burns again. Once it ends, I blink, only to find my eyelids are gone. The world is a kaleidoscope of colors, swirling and combining in ways I never suspected were possible. I barely need to turn my head to see what’s to either side of me. It should be overwhelming. It isn’t.

I blink, and focus my two primary eyes on the witch. She’s radiant like this. Her skin is coated in markings that used to be invisible. Symbols, shapes, and spirals, all made of sweet smelling fluid that defies traditional sight.

She straddles me, and lifts my head to pull me into a kiss. I return it with a gasp, even as I feel my mouth changing. Slipping. Warping. My tongue unfurls to wrap around hers, and she makes a pleased sort of noise at the action. She bites my lip, and I make a trilling whimper through my new voice box.

I can’t speak anymore. I don’t need to.

The witch breaks the kiss with a flushed smile. “Good little butterfly.” I coo happily up at her, and rub my face against her chest. I part my lips, and clamp my palps around her nipple. She arches into me as my proboscis latches onto her chest. Sweet, violet liquid leaks from her chest, and I lap it up eagerly. “Drink up, sweetie,” she purrs.

I drink, and more of me changes. My teeth are gone, replaced with soft palps for gripping. My tongue is long and curled. My fingers thin into long chitinous digits, and then my arms split entirely into four long fingerless limbs. My torso flattens into a rainbow thorax, and my legs grow multi-colored plates along the flats of my thighs and forelegs. My feet are formed into flat toeless points, not unlike some shoes I’ve seen.

Bits of human skin poke out from between chitinous plates, and my very human pussy remains bare and on display. My stomach remains unchanged as well, because the witch likes it just the way it is.

At some point, I shifted down to all six limbs, and began plumbing her depths with my proboscis, slurping up her sweet nectar and basking in the warmth that fills me as I do.

Her hands run across my back, and four large wings burst out from it. I scream, a trilling alien sound, and collapse twitching onto the ground. Every bit of the wings is erogenous. Pleasure blasts my mind, filling me completely and fully.

I’m complete. I’m perfect.

“My sweet little butterfly,” the witch whispers, hands trailing across my sensitive chitin. “This is who you always were. This is who you were meant to be.”

She’s right. I press myself back to her dripping flower, and devote what little strength I have left to pleasuring her. She cries out, wrapping her legs around my head as I curl my tongue inside her. With a shivering, shaking jerk, she hits her peak.

The witch collapses onto her back, and I crawl next to her with a satisfied coo. She pulls me into her side, and I dimly notice that despite still being as tall as I always was, I can easily curl into her. My wings fold back against me, and her fingers run through my hair. She left my hair.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you around the garden. You can help with my flowers, and I’ll introduce you to the others. Okay, sweetie?”

I trill an affirmation. She chuckles fondly.

“You’re so unbelievably adorable, you know that?” I buzz with pride. “You need a name, though. What should we call you?”

My eyes slowly dim as my body shifts towards sleep. Her fingers keep moving, and her mouth mutters name after discarded name.

“Oh, I know. I’ll call you Agathina.”

The name burns itself to my soul, and I shiver at the rightness.

“Oh, yes that will do nicely.” The witch plants a kiss on my head between my antenna’s scapes. “Not that you can say it, but my name is Sarah. Although it’s probably easier to think of me as mistress or owner.”

Mistress Sarah chuckles, and closes her eyes with a content sigh. My mind is still fuzzy and twisted, my memories before today refuse to surface, but it doesn’t matter. I knew I was going to die, and this would save me. It did. I’m saved.

And I’ve never been happier.