"Oh, darn." Eumeni tutted, grinning, as the last man sank to his knees, staring at them in pure adoration. She gave her bare breasts a little bounce together with her hands. "Was that... too hard? Poor boys."

The other three Thriae giggled at their triumph. The seven men knelt before them, eyes glazed over, lost in the Thriae's bodies. And why shouldn't they be? Eumeni smirked, running her hands over her frame, guiding the men's eyes along. It was important to keep them engaged. It made it so much easier to break them later. Her hands caressed the outer curves of her bountiful bust, ran over her impossibly thin waist, and ended on her wide hips. She grinned mischievously, noticing one of the knights trembling. He was clearly younger than the rest, but lanky, muscular, with short red hair and a cute, feminine face.

Ooh. She blinked heavy lids, suddenly intrigued. That wasn't a boy at all.

She walked over to him, hips swaying. The other Thriae followed her lead, picking out knights to nurse, to push between their legs, to kiss into drugged submission. But Eumeni smiled down at the red-haired knight.

The knight stared up at her, eyes wide, lips quivering.

The Thriae hadn't even needed to deploy their wing hum to break this lot. The knights had been overconfident, striking with only seven against a band of four. Silly humans. All it had taken was a little stalling, a little hypnosis, a little time to let the pheromones sink in...

"Hi, pretty girl," Eumeni cooed. The red-haired knight bit her lip. Her breasts weren't even large enough to necessitate a brassiere, but fey had a sense for these things. Oh, how tasty. There weren't nearly enough girl knights to play with. "Want us to make you beautiful?"

The woman bit her lip harder. Eumeni smirked, leaning down. "Aw, sweetie—"

"No!" The woman sprang up, gripping a dagger she'd been hiding under her knee. Eumeni's eyes widened, and she recoiled, the knife skidding over her armored corset.

Thriae didn't generally worry much about balance. Their hourglass figures defied gravity, but physics was more seen as a thing mortals worried about. But sometimes, gravity did catch up to them.

Eumeni fell onto her ass.

"Wings!" she hollered, as she heard the red-haired woman bolting. But the other Thriae were too slow to understand—too busy milking their men, letting them suckle, sitting on their faces and getting eaten out. A couple of them started to hum their wings, but too late. The woman was gone.

"Oops, Eumeni." A Thriae soldier with a man pressed to each breast, eagerly suckling, blinked down at her. "Looks like one gets away."

Eumeni's eyes narrowed. "Oh, no." She took off into the air, grinning wickedly. "You all take these cuties back to the hive. Make sure they're kept nice and full. I'm gonna go teach that silly girl a lesson."

And she took off into the forest as the Thriae behind her laughed.

The girl was easy enough to catch—she didn't know these woods, and Eumeni did. Eumeni flew after her, lazily, giggling as the woman realized she was being followed and ran faster.

"Faster, honey!" Eumeni sang, as her wings produced that deliciously irresistible hum. "Gonna have to go faster!"

The woman was stumbling. Eumeni beamed; she really was fighting Eumeni's power. She had a strong will indeed.

It made it extra-delicious when she fell on her face in the mud.

Eumeni alighted beside the fallen mortal, taking a moment to savor the conquest before nonchalantly rolling her over onto her back. The knight struggled faintly as Eumeni petted her hair, soothed her... and guided the tranced knight toward her breast.

"No," the knight whimpered, but her lips were already panting in longing. Her body knew what her mind needed.

Eumeni giggled. "Silly girl," she cooed, easing the knight to her bosom. The knight began to suckle as soon as her lips touched the nipple. Eumeni stroked her hair, encouraging her, as her other hand dipped down between the knight's legs, tugging the belt away. "We're gonna make you nice and sweet, okay?"

The knight whined, but continued to suckle, filling herself with the irresistible toxin.

Eumeni's wings started to beat again as she cradled the knight in her lap, bearing them away. "Don't worry, honey," she cooed, kissing her on he forehead. "We're going back to the Hive."

"Mm..."

"That's right!" Eumeni said delightedly. "And our Queen is gonna make you so, so pretty..."

~ ~ ~ ~

Three years later...

The Western Evergreen was always a little bit quiet, compared to the rest of the forest—the catgirls liked it that way. But right now, there was dead silence. Not even the constant thrum of the insects could be heard. The Western Evergreen was as quiet as a wraith's footstep.

A tall, muscular figure emerged from the leafy canopy. She glanced from side to side, then leaped to another branch. Her head was bound up in rags, and only a pair of golden eyes were visible. A sword-shaped bundle of cloth was strapped to her back. She scrambled down the vast tree trunk, constantly glancing around—as if at any point she expected something to spring out and ensnare her.

Halfway down, she came to a hollow. The hollow had once belonged to a bee hive, but was now empty save for the lingering smell of wax. The smell of honey was there, too, but she knew that this wasn't from any bees.

She crawled inside.

Inside were two figures, crouched amid the musty hollow. One had very dark umber skin and frizzy white hair. He was young, currently dressed in a set of pale robes. Jangling crystals hung from his sash and from around his neck—the only crystals he'd been able to recover since his capture by catgirls.

The other was one of the catgirls who'd captured him—a cute, freckled woman with shoulder-length brown hair. She was naked, and like the climber, her eyes glinted gold. She had a rosy glow to her pale face. Judging by the crystal mage's blushing, the climber had a feeling she'd missed something.

"Welcome back, Trys," the catgirl said sweetly. Everything she did was sweet, especially where Trys was concerned.

The climber reached up and tugged off the wrappings. Honey-blonde hair spilled out. Her expression was grave, beestung lips curved downwards in an uneasy frown. The Silver Knight wound the wrappings over her shoulders for later use and nodded to both of them. "Mew. Brist. It doesn't look good."

"Did you... did you find Ia? Or Yathi?" Brist bit his lip.

"No. Nor Yathi." Trys rubbed her eyes. "We'll have to go further from the shelter. That means we go as a group." She stared wearily at Mew. "What can you tell us about the forest right now?"

"The Thriae are by to visit," Mew chirped. "They promised we could have everyone except the hot one. Well." She batted her eyelashes at Trys. "The other hot one."

Mew was absolutely enamored of Trys. Trys knew why—like Trys, Mew was a mead addict, lost in Stage One, where she constantly craved a drink of that forbidden ambrosia, Thriae honey. Unlike Trys, Mew was fully and willingly enslaved to that craving. Fey generally weren't interested in fighting their desires, making them often easy pickings for Thriae.

It seemed the catgirl druids here were quite friendly to the Thriae passing through right now. Most of them were likely a little addicted, but Mew was one who had overindulged. Or been made to overindulge. Probably a little of both.

Trys had come by her addiction rather differently, of course. As knight, Trys had been tasked with defending the city from the Thriae invasion. All it had taken was one bad day. A few bad hours in the grasp of a sweet temptress who knew just how to break Trys. A few minutes in the arms of the most terrible Thriae of all.

She touched her hair, remembering, and bit her lip.

"Y-Yes, well." She cleared her throat. "Do you know any... weaknesses? There must be something."

Mew giggled, sidling over to lean her head against Trys. Trys knew she just wanted to smell Trys deeper—Trys always smelled of Thriae honey, now. If fact, it was her pussy that had made Mew so very agreeable to everything Trys wanted. Unfortunately, it also made Mew a complete idiot. "We always have honey," she cooed in Trys's ear. "Even when the Thriae aren't around. Always. Mm."

She started planting kisses along Trys's neck, licking her, tasting her.

Trys rolled her eyes. "We'll have to retrieve Ia first. She's probably closer, and since she's mead-immune, she'll be easier to get out without... long-term baggage."

Brist frowned. "Yathi will know their weaknesses, if anyone does. Since it looks like Mew here," he gestured to the catgirl dismissively, "either doesn't know the details or doesn't feel like sharing."

"He cums fast," Mew whispered in Trys's ear. "He came three times before I even started sucking."

Brist bit his lip and wrung his hands together ashamedly.

"Not Yathi." Trys shook her head. "We'll see if we can get her after, but she'll be under lock and key. They'll never give her up."

"All the more reason to get her out as soon as possible," Brist pressed. "With how hot she is, there's no way they won't be trying to totally melt her mind. She'll be lost if we wait longer. You... you saw how I was."

"Tickle-tickle!" Mew sang, grinning mischievously at Brist. Brist colored.

"Can we n-not have commentary from the drunk catgirl?" he grumbled.

"He's right, you know." Mew's hand drifted towards Trys's legs, but Trys batted her away—with difficulty. Mew did feel very good pressed against her. And she smelled very, very good. "That Yathi is the sexiest thing we've ever seen. We can't get enough of it." She nibbled on Trys's earlobe. "I dunno why. Something about her. Not natural."

"Hm." Trys bit her lip. She would have to broach this subject carefully "Brist, if they're brainwashing her that thoroughly, she might not want us to free her. And I know it's easy to forget, with that skintight armor of hers, but Yathi can be dangerous. We've been on a couple missions before. She's like a cornered badger when you mess with her. She might not be safe to try to free. We'll have an easier shot with Ia on board."

Brist shook his head. "Ia will be fine for a while, though. Every minute we waste, it's going to get harder and harder to free Yathi!" He rapped his knuckles on his palm. "And if the Thriae get ahold of her, she's done. She'll enter Stage Two, no doubt about it—maybe even Stage Three. Do you really want her to get turned into a mead sprite?"

"Brist, we've already lost people."

"And I don't want to lose anymore!"

"Well, we're going to have to!" Trys snapped. She tried to ignore Mew's cute little whines as the druidess ran a finger around her nipple, idly teasing her. It was reducing her gravitas a little. She tried to moderate her tone, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Possibly. We're possibly going to have to. You need to accept that, Brist." She hesitated, then sighed, crossing her legs to assume a calmer stance. "We have to finish the mission, or the city is finished."

Brist considered this, in the manner one might consider a hunk of meat on one's plate that had far too much cartilage for anyone's liking.

"It was a bad plan from the start," he muttered. "Okino was a fool."

"Yeah, he was. But we aren't using his plan."

"Huh?"

Trys glanced suspiciously at Mew, who giggled and planted a little kiss on her nose. She turned back to Brist. "Okino's plan was to get to the hive, infiltrate it like a dungeon, and kill the leader. I tried to tell him, but he never listened—Thriae don't work like that. Even if we killed the Queen, they'd just pick a new one, and be madder than ever for it."

She tapped her knife on the floor of the hollow. "Thriae are mean. They're mean, hateful creatures who delight in capturing those weaker than them. But they don't usually strike for no reason. This hive was content to ignore us for decades, before... someone upset it."

It went against every rule in the code of her order to criticize the city in any way. To suggest that the company might be to blame for any of this would be too far. But she and Brist both knew that ugly truth that hung between them.

Brist seemed to be having trouble with another pat of her argument, though. "Wait, are you... are you suggesting we reason with them?"

Trys gave a short laugh. "I'm... I'm suggesting we reason with one of them" She bit her lip. "The Thriae are human in many ways, but they're still fey. They live in the present. Whoever's leading this attack right now, the current queen, is holding a grudge—but if we replace her, and manage to smooth things over with the new leadership..."

"So we're still killing the old queen."

"No. We're choosing a new one." Trys's eyes narrowed. "And we don't need Yathi for that, Brist. This is bigger than both of us. This is about the city." She crossed her legs, trying to keep her tone level, even though, after the last couple of days, she was feeling anything but. "We might be able to save her. Might. But I'm not prepared to gamble everything by making our first rescue attempt on the most heavily-guarded—"

"Oh, Yathi isn't guarded," Mew said.

Trys blinked. She turned to Mew in time to earn a kiss on the lips. "Wh—mm!"

"Nope!" Mew said happily, wrapping her arms around Trys. "When you made the vine dryad be a good girl for you, she scared the kitties and honeys away. Yathi's aaaall by herself right now. Well, mostly. Close to." Trys was so taken aback, she didn't resist as Mew kissed her again, holding her close. The catgirl pulled back, beaming. "Let's get Yathi! She's super yummy, isn't she?"

Trys hesitated.

They needed Ia. Needed her immunity to mind control, needed her fighting talents.

But Yathi could be saved.

"Okay," she said hesitantly. "While she's unguarded. But if we see even a single Thriae there, we're going back for Ia."

"Ia will be fine," Brist said confidently. "They can't do anything to her. She's probably annoying their pants off even as we speak."

~ ~ ~ ~

I am a good slut. Ia babbled incoherently as the runerod buzzed endlessly inside her. A good slut obeys. She was past words, of course. So far past words. A good slut is dumb and silly and empty. Her mouth hung open as endless nonsense—mixed in with the odd cogent phrase like 'good slut'—spilled from her lips.

Her body, hypersensitized by the catgirl's magic, wasn't just being drowned in pleasure. It was like she was at the bottom of a well of sand, being slowly crushed by the weight of... of feeling so, so good.

But despite it all, despite the triggers, despite her crushing longing to see her Mistress again, Ia squirmed. Not just in pleasure, but in the beginnings of a plan.

Ia's feet were bare, and pulled apart by the vines that currently suspended her in the air. But Ia's legs were toned, muscular from days spent running and leaping and climbing from cradle to, well, this was a sort of cradle, she supposed. Or a noose. From cradle to noose.

Every time she tugged at the vines, they tightened. If she tugged too hard, it would tighten enough to hurt, and then she'd have to wait for Mistress to return to save her.

But Ia had fortunately worked that out earlier, and had refrained from tugging. And she was more flexible than most would guess.

Instead of trying to pull her legs together, Ia bit her lip and spread her legs wider, as wide as she could manage.

To her relief, the vines didn't tighten further. Instead, they went slack.

She began trying to twist her feet around the vines.

I am a silly bimbo. She screamed and burbled in pleasure as orgasm seeped through her mind like water through a drenched sponge.

It took her around a minute to loop one of the vines between her big toe and her littler toe. But she grinned.

Her toes were also a lot nimbler than most would guess.

Silly bimbos just wanna suck and fuck and giggle for Mistress.

Still, it took her another thirty minutes of brainless babbling to get a leg free.

Silly bimbos just wanna make Mistress happy.

It took her ten more minutes of babbling mantras—because she had to babble, because they would suspect something if she didn't babble, because it felt so good to repeat how Mistress loves me and wants me to be the best bimbo I can be—before she| managed to get an arm free.

From there, it only took an hour of frantic masturbating and chanting before she managed to send herself tumbling to the ground.

For a moment, Ia lay in the grass, eyes wide.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the runerod out and threw it as far away from herself as she could physically manage in her condition. That was still pretty far, and her heart sank as she saw it flying away into the brush.

Ia rose to her feet, shuddering, and looked around. No sign of anyone.

She stumbled over to where her clothes had been unceremoniously dropped and started tugging on her trousers and shirt. She had to find the others. She'd wasted too much time already.

~ ~ ~ ~

Yathi didn't need to think anymore.

The interior of a pitcher dryad's gigantic pitcher plant was drenched in sloshing, sSlipping liquid pleasure. The slippery ambrosia that clung to the sides formed a veritable ocean in the bulbous base of the plant, and Yathi had been dropped straight down.

Merely touching the tip of a finger to the nectar was enough to cause orgasm. Yathi had been immersed.

The pleasure wasn't more intense, exactly, than the sensation of submitting to the Thriae, of being licked by a catgirl. It was more... consuming. Constant. Yathi simply had no room to think. She was too busy cumming, and cumming, and cumming. She was too busy being totally and wonderfully happy to even consider another emotion.

She couldn't breathe. She didn't need to. The plant saw to her every, every need, and all she had to do was drink and stroke and moan. Her moans seemed to make the plant happy. And she wanted everyone to be as happy as she was.

She heard a squirming and a squealing up above. She didn't care. She just beamed vacantly into the sea of nectar. Nothing mattered. She hoped that the catgirls or Thriae sent someone down soon to play with her, though. She wanted someone to share this bliss with.

"Yathi?"

"Mm-hmmmm..." Yathi rolled around in the nectar, spreading her legs wide, an idiotic smile on her face.

"Yathi!" A hand gripped hers. Yathi stared through the golden-green haze.

She tried to speak—to greet Trys, so strong and pretty and looking so very much like a Thriae in this light—but just swallowed more nectar. With some difficulty, using Trys's hand as an anchor, she pulled her head clear of the slippery drink. "Oh, h-hi, Trys," she burbled, kissing Trys's hand. "C-Come cum with me!"

Trys was flushed. She looked hot. Very hot. "Yathi, we have to go," she whispered. She was dangling in midair, her whole body tense.

Yathi smiled absently, noticing that the hand she was kissing was covered with a glove. She giggled. "What's this?" she cooed, tugging at the glove. She wrapped her hands around Trys's arm and started kissing it as well.

"Y-Yathi, no—" Trys's eyes widened.

Her jaw dropped.

The warrior started to convulse. Yathi giggled, watching the same expressions and sounds of bliss escaping dear, sweet Trys that Yathi had given when she'd first arrived here.

Yathi pulled Trys to her, planting loving kisses all over her, pulling her deeper and deeper into the nectar—deeper and deeper into the pitcher's ecstasy. Trys started to clutch her in turn, and Yathi felt her resistance ebbing, felt her growing increasingly eager for the kisses...

They started to rise up. Yathi blinked, but wrapped herself around Trys tighter, determined to bring Trys around to her way of thinking. Trys seemed easily persuaded. Yathi was hurriedly fumbling to strip away Trys's clothes, but the brawny blonde was still holding Yathi too tightly.