Whimsen's head was still spinning as he shook off the lesser demonesses' tricks, but the frantic pounding of his heart gave him rhythm, gave him balance, gave him the will to force their echoing laughter out of his head and keep moving forward.

So far, the protections seemed to be working. That should have brought him comfort—it meant that Hette knew what she was talking about when it came to her warding spells.

But it also meant that whatever had captured her had to be even worse than the creatures he'd made it past so far.

None of it mattered, he told himself fiercely, clutching the little carved turnip close to his chest. Its hollow eyes, filled with the pale light of a single glowpebble, stared out over the barely-visible path. They illuminated wiry bloodred tendrils, alien flowers, and twisted, bulbous plants that looked almost... human-like.

So this was what happened during an eclipse. It couldn't end soon enough.

Whimsen swallowed. He wanted so badly to be back at the church, surrounded by the articles he knew meant comfort—his books, his bowl of soup, and his beautiful pipe organ. He didn't belong here.

But someone had to save the village witch. Today, it would have to be him.

He knew they were still watching him. But they kept their distance and held their tongues. The turnip's eyes had already glimpsed them and commanded it.

Sen prayed to Shatterbell, the Giver of Gifts, that its magic would also work on the one they’d called ‘Tess’.

* * *

The cottage was totally overgrown. It took him a moment to identify the bulk of the greenery as stemming from a single source—Hette's old spiderplant, Raulf, long left to hang over the porch awning, had grown to truly titanic proportions. It and its progeny now covered the cottage, burying it under thick plant cover.

“Hettie?” Whimsen managed, his voice weak. He could still hear the distant laughter of those demons—or was it his paranoia?

The drumming of his heart kept him moving. He forced himself forward, approaching the doorway. The door looked like it had been clawed apart by wild beasts.

Turning the spelled turnip in wide arcs, trying to catch anything that might see him before he saw it, he stepped into the doorway and peered into the darkness of the witch's hut.

He glimpsed long shadows. Pale smiles, gleaming eyes. Some of them were surely just those horrid witch's carvings Hette had made. Naturally, his panic turned every one into a sinuous succubus, a snarling fiend. He saw Hette's coffee table toppled, her bed torn to shreds, and in the shadows of her closet...

Two bright golden eyes watched him.

Whimsen went still. He swallowed, focused on timing his breaths, and bent down low.

“Abacus?” he whispered.

An unhappy meow answered him.

“Abacus.” A panicky laugh slipped out. Relief scattered his thoughts for a moment; it took him a second to recover them. “I… think it's good to see you.”

The black cat's head tilted to the side.

“Right.” He nodded, smiling weakly. “Just... stay there where it’s safe, alright? Stay a cat.”

Abacus slow-blinked at him.

Deep down, even though it was easy to forge, Whimsen knew this creature wasn't much less dangerous than the demons right now. At least it was a familiar face.

He kept his voice soft. “I'll find Hette, and we'll... we'll get out of here, alright?” He straightened. “Where is sh—”

A single piercing note chimed from behind him.

Whimsin whirled around. There was nothing there.

But a light, he realized, had appeared to the west of the house.

He hesitated, then took a step forward.

Something tugged at the hem of his cloak. He looked down to see Abacus there, one claw hooked in the cloth. The little familiar's ears were flattened. With how its fur was bristling, it could have been a very large soot bunny.

“I have to go take a look,” Whimsen said, reflexively bending down to scritch behind Abacus’s ears. “She might be trying to get my attention.”

Abacus's tail twitched and flicked several times.

“Sorry, Ab.” He smiled sheepishly. “I don't understand you like she does. You'll just have to wait. I'll bring her back to us.” He held up the turnip, careful not to point it right at Abacus. “You see? I, um, came prepared.”

The cat's tail flicked again. Whimsen was pretty sure this was Abacus's version of rolling its eyes. Really, Sen, it seemed to be saying.

“The eclipse will be over soon.” He swallowed, turning away. “Just stay put. You know there's nothing you can do against these things.” A familiar like Abacus, he knew, must never fall under direct moonlight without its witch present.

He didn't know what would happen, but he was pretty sure it would be very bad for him.

The not-cat’s demon eyes glowed like moonlight as it regarded him.

He hurried off the porch and made his way to the source of the light. It was coming from the mill pond, but the thick foliage—interspersed with alien plant life he tried to keep clear of—obscured most of it from view.

So it was only when he was directly upon it that he realized the pond itself was what was glowing.

Whimsen stood still and gazed out over the shimmering pool. It was as bright and clear as a mirror, shining like silver in moonlight.

Rose silver. It held the light of the Lust Moon now, after all. Even with no view of the skies above—the trees were too thick here—still that moonlight shone as bright as if Eros were right overhead.

He could almost see designs spreading across the pond's surface, lines like spiderweb dividing it into triangles. The pond could have been frozen over.

He looked around. “H-Hettie?” he asked weakly.

Something brushed his shoulder.

He spun with a cry. Again, there was nothing there.

Another singular note rang out from behind Whimsen, as clear as a church bell.

The organ-player turned back to face the pool.

And from the shadows of the canopy, a woman descended into view.

Her figure was... Sen told himself it was obscene. Nobody really had hips like those, curving so drastically out from the waist to form a perfect heart shape with those absurdly round, luscious thighs. With her mottled olive-green skin, with those swirling streaks of gold and crimson running over her body, that curvy ass almost reminded him of a garden spider. It was... unnatural. Her brazen clothing—just some thin silks, barely even underwear—only made it harder to avoid ogling her.

Eight long horns rose from her head, segmented like the legs of an insect. Their black ebony hue complemented her bloodred hair. Her hair fell down past her shoulders like a waterfall of wine, one singular shimmering shape without a single lock out of place.

She had no wings, he noticed. Just a long, sinuous tail that lashed behind her like a whip, its end forming a loop that reminded him uncomfortably of a noose. Glimmering red and gold silk ribbons fluttered from her arms, hair and clothes, trailing from her clothes, as though the clothes themselves were just ribbons that just-so-happened to have gotten entangled in just the right areas to almost cover her lewdest regions.

The ribbons they seemed to move independently of gravity, following her every motion with dreamlike grace, catching the light with every flutter, every flicker, every snap to and fro.

Whimsen swallowed, staring up straight into the demoness’s eyes—one a burning red, the other gleaming gold.

Her emerald-green lips quirked.

“Hi, there, sweet boy,” the succubus cooed down at him. “What's your name?”

Whimsen clenched and unclenched his fist to steady himself. He felt pins and needles all over his body. He couldn't let down his guard, couldn't let her get to him.

“Come, now, sweet boy,” the succubus echoed, her voice almost musical in the silence of the forest, “answer me! Don't tell me you're scared~”

“Whimsen,” Whimsen whispered. ‘Sen’ to his friends. He steeled himself and added, making an educated guess, “And I'm not afraid of you, ‘Tess’. I'm here to save my friend.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head to the side. “Is that so, Sen? And how will that go, Sen~?”

“Well, I—”

Tess's feet alit upon the surface of the water. A triangle of pure rippling light appeared at her feet upon the surface of the water, and a single clear note resonated across the pond, echoing through the clearing.

“I, ah...”

“Go on.” The succubus smirked, tail whipping behind her. “Tell me what you'll do~”

Sen swallowed. He felt like he couldn't move. Those eyes shimmered, those hips swayed, those ribbons fluttered, glittered, caught Eros’s rosy light...

Tess took a step closer. Her eyes shimmered. “Or maybe I'll tell you~”

Sen's finger twitched.

Cradling it in both hands, he lifted the turnip to stare directly at the succubus.

The succubus's foot struck the surface of the water with a discordant scratch. He saw it dip slightly below the surface. Tess stumbled back, hurriedly righting herself. She looked stunned.

She stared at the turnip-charm. An eyebrow raised. “How… very...”

She trailed off, blinking rapidly.

Sen smiled weakly. Internally, he was nearly fainting with relief. “Turnip charm,” he said, redundantly holding up the little lantern. “No coming close to me, no speaking to me unless I speak first. C-Courtesy of my friend.”

Tess's head tilted to one side.

“And I, ah, I don't know how I'm going to save her,” he went on, feeling his cheeks heating up. He didn't cut any kind of proper heroic figure. He was short and plump, unarmed, still dressed in his frumpy work clothes, and Tess positively towered over him. “But I won't be leaving without her. Be sure of that!”

“Hm.” The demoness licked her lips. Several long, forked tongues slipped out, and he almost lost his composure.

Then she smiled and turned away.

For a moment, Sen felt worried that she was going to retreat. He didn't know if he could chase after her. Was Hette even here? Was she trapped somewhere nearby?

But Tess didn't run.

Her ass swung to the left, ribbons trailing behind it.

Her ass swung to the right, ribbons snapping back.

“W-What are you...” The half-question slipped out without thinking.

“Returning to the dance,” Tess said sweetly. “It seems we’ve naught more to discuss~”

“But—But I need you to tell me where she is!”

Tess just laughed, and began to dance.

Every step she took sent delicate notes ricocheting across the water along with the dazzling lights. She moved like a serpent, dancing to and fro with a seamless sway between motions. Gravity didn't seem to hold her long—just long enough to cup her ass and show the weight... before she'd snap back into perfect form.

“I.” Sen squirmed a little, trying not to stare. Her butt had a beautiful sway to it, perfectly-shaped to bounce and jiggle as it swung, gyrated. “Just tell me where she is.”

“Perhaps you should make me an offer, sweet boy.” Tess smiled, tail flicking up and draping over her neck like a boa. She turned and ground her hips to the slow, pulsing melody as her silver slippers glided over the pond. “Make it worth my while.”

“I... um...” Sen was blushing furiously. He needed to get ahold of himself. He needed to stop staring. But every time a note rang out, his eyes shot back to her, as if she was about to start running towards him.

“Or perhaps you should simply make me, sweet boy.” The succubus's voice rang with sweet mockery. “I’d obey with a smile.”

The music chimed in his ears alongside her laughter. Her asscheeks bounced together as she executed a dainty pirouette.

“I-I wouldn't...”

“Wouldn't be able? Or wouldn't be willing?” Tess flashed him a smirk. Colorful patterns danced across the water as she danced towards him, never drawing near enough to enter the warding light. Red. Gold. Green. Pink. “Perhaps you just fear I won't find it fulfilling~”

Whimsen's face burned. He took a stumbling step back. “I...”

Her hips swayed. Her singsong rhymes matched their rhythm, harmonized with the music of her dance. “Just let me come closer. Just let me explain.” Her voice was like the purest, clearest silver bell in his ear. “Just listen closer and feel those thoughts drain~”

Whimsen felt dizzy. He felt himself swaying slightly, trying to keep track of her elegant movements, her swaying hips. Dimly, he realized that every time he spoke, he gave her permission to sing back at him, but he couldn't... “I, I w-won't...”

“Just watch them swing,” Tess purred, “and fall under my sway.”

Whimsen felt something slip from his hand.

At the same time, he felt his knees hit the mossy ground.

His whole world swayed, spun, swam. He blinked rapidly, feeling a terrible weight sloshing in his head.

When his vision cleared, Tess loomed over him with a wicked smile.

“W-Wai—” He attempted.

Her loop-tail lashed out, caught the turnip-lantern at his feet—its smiling face pressed uselessly into the ground—and sent it flying into the treetops.

He heard it splatter against a trunk.

Tess's smile widened, and her pupils seemed to narrow into predatory slits.

“That's much better,” she murmured, “don't you think?”

“I—”

The loop-tail lashed out again and snapped right around his throat, trapping the words inside him. He choked and sputtered, then went dead silent as a pair of long-nailed fingers caught the underside of his chin and tipped him up to face the succubus.

“I guess you don't.” She giggled. “But now we're linked.”

She tugged on the tail, pulling him closer. He whimpered, his mind suddenly abuzz with strange thoughts, pulsing desires. The tail-collar wasn't gripping him hard enough to hurt, but it was enough for him to feel it…

… and every gentle squeeze sent waves of strange, overwhelming pleasure through him.

Tess lowered down and straddled his hips, forcing him down. “Now be a good plaything and sink.”

Her perfect ass ground into his lap, and Sen moaned in pleasure.

“Good boy,” Tess purred, as the collar pulsed around his neck, as if in reward. “There's a good boy. Such a soft, sweet thing you seem.”

“Pl—nngh—” Sen whimpered, bucking instinctively as pleas were forced into wordless moans. The waves of lust were too much, and even clothed, his cock was undone with bliss at her expert wriggles, her soft, pillowy butt…

“No need to dance for me, my pet,” Tess cooed, grinding rhythmically to and fro. “I'd rather hear you scream~”

Lust pulsed into him. Sen stared up at Tess in hopeless desire as she leaned down, took him by the tail-collar, and kissed him deep.

Multiple forked tongues slid into his mouth and entwined around his own.

He bucked. Squealed. Everything around him was so nice and pretty and filled with Tess, wonderful Tess, perfect Tess. He felt something draining from him, but it felt so good, it felt too good, and he wanted to do it again and again and again—

She moaned into him, gripping him tighter, satisfaction burning in those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. He felt his trousers being pulled away, and he recognized the cackling and giggling of the minor demon maids who'd teased him earlier, realized they’d been right, realized he’d never stood a chance…

But his embarrassment couldn't compete with need as his freed cock slid between Tess's cheeks and she started to bounce.

She pulled away from the deep, captivating kiss, venomous saliva dripping from her lips as she smiled down at him in triumph. “My pretty thing,” she cooed. “My soft, pretty thing. My soft, sweet, broken slave. Just how much will you give me? Just how much might I crave?”

”P-Please!” he managed, his whole world swirling around Tess as he felt his cock pulsing, throbbing, as he felt himself being milked by Tess's demonic embrace. “M-More!”

“More?” She giggled. “Of course. But patience, pet.” Her eyes started to pulse with light, and he felt the collar starting to grow tight in a strange, new way. Forbidden, sinful bliss started to flow into his mind. “All good things in time.”

He bucked, writhed, whimpered, moaned…

“Is it my misconception, or do you sometimes force these rhymes?”

The new voice rang out, crisp and cool as snapped rhubarb.

Tess went totally still. She blinked, then looked up.

The sky above the forest canopy was dreary and gray, leaving the world darkened beneath heavy stormclouds. But, Sen realized dumbly as his cock throbbed, the rosy light was gone, and mundane sunlight was again spilling across the forest.

A familiar young woman about his age sat on one of the high branches, a weighty wooden spoon tucked beneath her thighs as if she was riding sidesaddle upon it. A plain brown pointy hat was planted atop long red hair, both messy with wood shavings. Her face was sharp and angular, with a nose as pointy as her hat and bright green eyes. Her legs, clad in black-and-white stockings, kicked idly beneath a long muddy-brown dress and apron.

He felt Tess tense above him. She slid up and off of him, her eyes narrowed, her posture suddenly wary and spiderlike.

Hettie the Wood-Witch flashed them a smile, idly twirling her finger around a growing spell. “Looks like the eclipse ended two minutes ago. Some weather we're having, though, eh?”

* * *

“Oh, yeah, I pretty much took off the second the eclipse started. After locking Abacus in the house, obviously.” Hettie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, keeping her gaze respectfully above the chest. “You left the door unlocked, by the way.”

“Oh. S-Sorry.” Whimsen's cheeks burned as he hurried to don the replacement clothes Hette had brought him—angels knew where those lesser demons had spirited his own off to. “That's, um... did she...?”

“No.” Hettie frowned off into the distance. “She stayed put in the house so she could tell me where you were. Could've been bad, but...” She was looking towards the house, he realized. “I do appreciate you coming in after me. That was nice of you. Even if it was completely unnecessary.”

Whimsen squirmed beneath the compliment. “So... she stayed put?”

“Yeah. I reckon she was worried about you. Knew she wouldn't be if she got free, so.”

It took Whimsen a moment to realize Hette wasn't going to finish that sentence. He finished pulling on the tunic. “But isn't she...?”

“It's complicated. Lucky for us, though.” Hette turned and winked at him. “Not sure I could've disentangled you if I'd gotten here and found you under two succubi.”

Whimsen gulped. “She's... wait, you mean Abacus used to be a...?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re the best for the job, really, if you have to use a demon. It's a risky bond, but I'm... I can handle it.” He thought he noticed a sudden redness in Hette's cheeks, but she cleared her throat and rose to her feet off the rock. “Anyway, you seem to be the one she has a soft spot for lately.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You have to wonder what that would translate into if she ever broke free. You’ve seen her in her catgirl form, right?”

Whimsen’s face felt hot again. He coughed loudly.

Hettie just flashed him a smirk. “Something to think about, I guess, next time you decide to run into the woods in the middle of an Erotic Eclipse.”