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Ryoken took his duties seriously.
A proud ranger and defender of the forested castle grounds, employed by the Queen like his father and his father before him. He listened well to what he had been taught regarding the land as it was a verdant treasure trove at risk of thieves and poachers. Amid the gated garden were medicinal plants and geese that laid golden eggs and monsters, too.
Allegedly, anyway.
Ryoken had yet to see anything unusual beyond the beautiful flowers. He had spent all his childhood as an apprentice learning his monkshood from his wolf’s bane, hearing rumours of what stalked the night or bathed in the waters. Naiads and sylphs, the fey folk, and, most famously of all, dryads.
Yet Ryoken had yet to see any of them.
Not that he ever would say so out loud given that Ryoken was the best of the best, but he did suspect that, perhaps, the more mythical treasures of the forest were just that. Rumours. Tales to tell to seem taller amongst the Queen’s peers, the court nobles and dignitaries and anyone else she would want to impress to seem more important than she already was.
Even so, there was just enough to give Ryoken pause.
Evidence of absence was nothingness but occasionally, there was proof of there being something more than hares and foxes in these elden woods. Footprints that he could not so easily identify as human or animal. The sound of laughter when it mingled on the wind but could it have just been the wind?
If his Father said so, and said so with all the seriousness of a grave, then Ryoken was willing to believe. It was good, honest work to take care of the forest, after all. It fulfilled him and as long as there was that single seed of truth regarding plants that could heal akin to panacea, then it was worth it.
Usually it was calm, though. There was to be no relaxation on duty, however, it was a beautiful forest. Old, older than the castle and the divine rights of royalty, and home to many species of songbirds and butterflies. People, in general, knew not to tread too close to the Queen’s domain unauthorised and so, made for an easy job - in theory, at least.
Constant vigilance, Ryoken reminded himself, constant vigilance as he looked over crystal clear, still lakes and through the verdant greenery of the forest. It could put a man to sleep and often, Ryoken found himself nodding off during his breaks wherein he had his bread and butter, his cup of tea. He was the only living soul for miles, he would believe. Human, anyway.
And yet… One day, Ryoken heard something.
He was once again doing his rounds, like any other day ending in the letter Y. He was patrolling with full gear, assessing the perimetres, making sure that nothing so much as a blade of grass was out of order when there was a shriek in the distance.
Birds flew away, flapping and cawing. Squirrels fled on foot and even rushed past Ryoken as he was mystified by the event. The forest, itself, reacted in pain to this noise. To this ruckus.
Ryoken realised immediately. Poachers. He was certain. So, he raced to trace the source of the noise. A terrible shout and scream of terror. It caused Ryoken’s blood to run cold as he readied his bow.
In the north-west sector of the forest, towards the hinterlands. It was there the land was most vulnerable to ne’er-do-wells and roguish passersby as the castle township was in the opposite direction and far more heavily vetted than these meandering dirt roads.
Here the forest was more brackish, as though a natural defence. Prickles and thorns wrapped around trees and only the foulest-smelling fruits grew. Yet amid the rumble and tumble, Ryoken found a duo of people harassing… a pregnant woman?
He actually wasn’t sure. There was no time to be sure. So long as this person was on royal grounds and in distress, they were worthy of the Queen’s protection of the lands. Ryoken, thus, steadied his weapon and his voice against the adrenaline that coursed.
“I am a ranger of the Queendom of Sol and protector of these here woods,” Ryoken barked, eyes glinting as he mustered as much intimidation against these interlopers, “I am sanctioned by the Queen herself to shoot first and ask questions later.”
He watched as the attackers reacted to his voice. The larger of the two men reared back, stepped away and that’s when Ryoken released his arrow from the nock on his bow.
He fired a warning shot to demonstrate his severity. The arrow whistled past the ear of one of the men. He paled in terror. The arrow struck a tree in the distance: fair in its middle.
“Leave now, never to return or I arrest you.” Ryoken growled.
He watched as the two men exchanged a panicked glance. Their lanky and angular bodies continued to obscure the person behind them, curled up and terrified.
“Let’s get out of here, Bit!”
“Too right, Boot!”
With that, they disappeared. That was good enough for Ryoken, for the time being. He saw no sacks on them so it was unlikely they had pillaged the forest for its medicinal purposes. They wanted to rough up this person - or likely kidnap them - but they, too, were a trespasser, were they not? If Ryoken had to punish them, too, he would not hesitate, regardless of if they were a woman or if they were with child. That was the law.
Yet Ryoken stepped closer, he saw this person with clear eyes. His stomach dropped. No, it could not be true. He had never been given proof until now of the supernaturality of the forest.
Until now.
This person was a dryad.
Pointed, elfin ears, insect-like eyes of all blue, and floral decals upon their skin.
They slowly unwound from their foetal position, they were clad in flowing white clothes that swept around them like a single, tussled sheet and held their belly. It was round, fit to burst, really. They seemed dazed and shocked by the occurrence but still found their tongue in gratitude of being saved.
“Th-Thank you. I was caught unaware by those dastards.” the Dryad spoke shakily.
The Dryad’s voice was more masculine that Ryoken thought it would be but Ryoken was mystified. Enchanted. He had never seen such unearthly beauty before. His breath was taken away and so, he discarded his bow. He didn’t want to seem uncaring as he took a knee to the Dryad. He bowed his head and placed his gloved hand over his heart.
This forest belonged to the Sol Queendom, correct, but if there were species within it such as Dryads that required such around the clock protection were real, then it was not the Queen whom Ryoken had pledged allegiance to. No, instead, the beings like the one in front of him.
“Happy to have been in service to you…?” Ryoken looked up as he spoke and awaited expectantly of the Dryad.
The Dryad smiled a small, uncertain smile, “Spectre. I am called Spectre.”
“Ryoken.”
“Pleased to have made your acquaint-”
Spectre’s expression twisted. He made a strangled noise and his eyes bulged. He clutched his belly. His legs parted and he doubled over his rotund belly.
“It hurts.”
“How can I help?” Ryoken panicked.
Ryoken had, of course, a vast knowledge of first aid. However, he had never been trained to do more, like assisting in labour like a midwife. Still, his heart skipped a beat and it was part of his vow to the forest to help in any way that he could.
Spectre panted, “M-My seeds…”
“Seeds?” Ryoken echoed, confused.
“Aah, yes, my seeds.” Spectre raggedly replied. “I-I was so scared something was going to happen, my cycle must have triggered early.”
There was a tinge of irritation to Spectre’s voice. There was no time to explain and Ryoken swallowed that.
“I understand,” Ryoken replied, “just tell me how I can help?”
“H-Hold my hand, whilst I… I…”
“Of course.” Ryoken said.
He took Spectre’s hand. He knelt by his side and stroked Spectre’s hand. It was clammy and his skin had an ombre tone from his mid-knuckles down where his fingers turned green. He had nails akin to talons and they dug into the calloused inner of Ryoken’s hand.
He watched as Spectre shuddered. Spectre took big, heaving breaths and pulled back the wrapped clothing that he wore. Ryoken stole a look and was surprised. There was a phallus underneath the curve of Spectre’s engorged belly. He hadn’t been expecting that.
Spectre turned his head, he was sweaty and pale, “Can you… touch me? There?”
Ryoken’s brows quirked. Him? Surely not? They had only just met.
“Please…” Spectre insisted, his voice a murmur. “I can’t reach…”
Ryoken swallowed a breath, “I understand. Wh-Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Ryoken adjusted how he knelt beside Spectre in the wispy grass. The dryad just seemed so fragile in this state of breaking point and his request, it was so out of the ordinary that it seemed gauche and inappropriate. Ryoken continued to hold onto Spectre’s left hand but reached across his body for his phallus.
“Like… this?” he asked, to be certain.
“Yes, like that. Masturbate me.” Spectre replied, his breath had a desperate tinge to it and yet… Relief, too.
Ryoken swallowed and did as he was told. He pumped his hand up and down Spectre’s length and looked a little closer. The head had a green colour, akin to how his fingers turned an emerald ombre, also, but his organ was only penile in shape, beyond that, Ryoken realised it was unlikely to be a penis like his. It was, instead, an ovipositor.
The opening at the top of it was more akin to that of an orchid’s centre than a corona. The slit was large, too, and Spectre had mentioned seeds but he was a dryad so Ryoken drew an assumption: he was not swollen with seeds but rather with eggs. From these observations and assumptions, Ryoken put two and two together as he masturbated Spectre as per his request.
Up and down, as gently as he could, Ryoken masturbated Spectre. He chewed his bottom lip as he gauged Spectre’s reactions to his touch. He attuned his approach based on how Spectre behaved afterwards. Anything too fast, and it seemed painful but anything too slow, it seemed boring. Ryoken felt his whole body quake as he made it his mission to bring Spectre pleasure through his pain.
It appeared even the tiniest sensation rippled out in grandiose consequence, like a wave cascading but there was an eventual calm. The more Ryoken pumped him, massaged him, the more Spectre steadied. His expression, once twisted, turned clearer and more tranquil.
“Aah,” he swooned, “th-that’s better, I can hear myself think now.”
“That’s good.” Ryoken whispered.
He was nervous and worse still, turned on. He couldn’t help himself, even though he wished he could. It was an involuntary reaction to something that so closely mimicked his idea of foreplay but surely wasn’t for Spectre. He felt his erection rage as he made Spectre moan over and over via masturbation. The noises Spectre made were highly irrational, of course, in his state of labour yet his voice hit just right for Ryoken, most curious of all.
However, luckily, for Ryoken was that his trousers were of a thick and sturdy material so even Ryoken couldn’t see his boner through the fabric so Spectre probably had no idea at all that it was there. He just had to be tactful to keep it that way, and not betray his cool as he assisted him.
“I think I’m ready to deliver my spawn.” Spectre said.
In this better mind state, now moved on from the stress of being attacked by poachers, Spectre was able to release his spawn and thus confirm his phallus’ use as an ovipositor. Ryoken was taken aback and his fingers slipped from around Spectre’s length.
At such a slight recession of Ryoken’s fingers, Spectre cast a glare, “Did I say for you to stop?” he asked, sharp and rhetorical.
“No, no you did not.” Ryoken replied and he reaffirmed his grip on the length of Spectre’s ovipositor.
He gave it a few more pumps and Spectre groaned. His voice dropped lower and he held Ryoken’s hand tighter than an iron vice. His claws dug into Ryoken’s hand as the first egg - of who knows how many - began to travel downwards.
“Ah! It’s coming!” Spectre announced.
Ryoken gulped and his eyes widened as he bore witness to the beauty of nature. He watched - and even felt - as an egg made its way from within Spectre and out his ovipositor. Despite the firmness of his ovipositor, feeling akin to an erection, it was much more flexible as the seed was pushed through.
Spectre strained himself to move it, grunting and groaning bloody murder. Ryoken held him through it, trying to be as steady and unmoving as a rock but he had to admit. He was going green watching and yet, there was a lurch of arousal. He was as turned on as he was sickened as the seed began to protrude through Spectre’s slit and enter the world.
It was here Ryoken realised why he had a place in this as a mechanism. He pushed Spectre’s ovipositor downwards so the seed had somewhere to land: in the grass. Spectre panted and nodded simultaneously.
“Th-Thank you, Ryoken.” he said, appreciation soaked his tone but so did something else.
He had begun to leak fluids. It dripped down the side of his ovipositor, over Ryoken’s hands and had a viscosity similar to honey but a colour closer to semen. Ryoken’s heart pounded as he kept masturbating Spectre through this little eruption.
“A-Are there more?” Ryoken asked. He glanced at the shape of Spectre’s belly in his lap, it hadn’t changed too much.
“Yes, a few more.” Spectre replied.
“I see.” Ryoken replied.
There was a lull in the exchange. Ryoken’s expression hardened with worry. Either for himself or for Spectre, either applied. His eyes fixated on the dome of Spectre’s belly and the protrusion of his seeds via his ovipositor.
“Take good care of me, yes, Ranger Ryoken?” Spectre sweetly pleaded with him, disturbing the train of thought Ryoken was having.
“Yes, of course.” Ryoken affirmed.
Anything to live up to his title and duty, especially to the one whom it was truly affixed to.
Spectre took a breath and there truly were yet more seeds to come. Ryoken continued to masturbate Spectre. He watched, perhaps with too relishing and curious a glint in his eyes, as the seeds came one by one. His ovipositor spurted with more of its fluid, covering his hand and the seeds.
With each departure, it seemed easier on Spectre. The contractions that he forced lessened, the strain that he had to utilise eased. Ryoken was ever dutiful, however, with how he pumped Spectre’s phallus up and down. Close as close could be, even, and admiring the mess.
“There… There’s one more, I can feel it.” Spectre announced.
Ryoken nodded. He inhaled sharply. He felt as though a tuning fork had hit the glass inside of him because he perked up. The rhythm of up and down had long since drowned out any pleasure he had gotten from assisting Spectre through his labours.
The intensity of the labours flared all of a sudden. Complacency had begun to muddy the waves of pain and pleasure. Now, it was a wildfire. Ryoken felt that there was little he could do amid the deluge as this final seed began to emerge from within Spectre.
Spectre writhed in the grass, head lolled back. Ryoken’s hand had gone practically numb at this point as he continued to aid him. He watched as this seed emerged, inch by inch within the slit of his ovipositor. It bulged and stretched around the oval shape of the seed. Yet more fluid erupted from within, splashing out the sides of the slit.
“I’m so close.” Spectre added, there was a musical lilt to his voice before crescendo.
Ryoken silently urged him closer and closer until he was over that edge. He squeezed Spectre’s hand with his own and his ovipositor, too. Until a rumbly noise worked its way up through his throat, his larynx bobbed up and down as he gave one lash and final push.
The seed was ejected from his ovipositor, Ryoken bent it forward and watched. He bit down on his tongue. The eroticism of seeing the final seed amongst the grass, and its predecessors, was a bit too much against the contrast of Spectre’s finale.
Spectre orgasmed. Loudly. The result was wet and wild between his legs. His voice was long and languid, and Ryoken had to keep himself steady in reply. His hand remained across Spectre’s midsection, reaching, and wrapped around his phallus. Ryoken gulped, insatiable, as he came in his pants.
He was so worked up just from watching.
Now there was nothing left. Spectre allowed himself a moment of repose, wherein he was drenched in his own fluid and free from the stressor of having such an engorged belly. His chest rose and fell in quick succession as his face split open with a huge grin.
But now, it was finally over.
Spectre’s legs were splayed open. The grass had turned soggy with his slick. His seeds that he had spawned were strewn through the blades. Now exited his body, his belly had deflated somewhat but there was excess flab underneath where his womb likely lay. It felt as though it had taken hours but it seemed he was in completion now.
His expression was blissed out, Ryoken noticed. He looked beautiful with the late afternoon sun illuminating his face which was dewy with sweat. He smacked his lips together contentedly and looked over the mess he had made.
The best he could offer up was, “Oops.”
Ryoken snorted.
He let go of Spectre’s hand. Slowly, just in case Spectre wanted to change his mind but he didn’t. Ryoken had trembles and claw marks in his flesh as he neatened up how he sat. His legs ached as he was hit with affliction after affliction, coming down off the high of simply watching Spectre go through the motions of his species' birth.
Honestly, Ryoken had many questions regarding what he had just seen. They began to build up like water behind a dam in a weir. For a moment, however, he allowed Spectre to simply exist. To simply be.
He basked in the sun, in the afterglow of being rid of his spawn. He tipped his head back and sighed.
“That feels… good.” Spectre said.
Ryoken was glad to hear that. He felt as if he had done his job to satisfaction - and not just his own. Though with the memorial post-orgasm now observed, Ryoken felt ready to begin , with his heart thudding in his chest, touching one of the now laid seeds. He picked it up and it was coated in the ovipositor’s fluid. It was warm to the touch and the slime reflected the late afternoon’s sunlight.
“Concerned for my spawn are you?” Spectre asked.
“A little.” Ryoken confessed.
“Then worry not.” Spectre said. “They are unfertilised. It is simply my time in season.”
He rubbed his belly and now his clothes appeared too loose for him. He covered himself up somewhat more and looked more like a ghost now in such billowy white fabrics.
“Oh, I see.” Ryoken said.
“I suppose they could be a trophy for a particularly bold hunter but I doubt it, they are as useless as petrified wood.” Spectre explained. “Mere byproducts of my… state.”
“There is much to learn then.” Ryoken said. “You are the first dryad I have encountered.”
“Likewise. You are the first human I have ever known… Let alone carnally.” Spectre said.
Ryoken blushed and Spectre laughed at his expense. A pause followed and Spectre smiled. Genuinely, this time, rather in mirth over Ryoken’s embarrassment.
“Thank you, Ryoken, I appreciate it.” Spectre confessed now that they were done but afloat in quite some mess. He turned sheepish, tucked a curl of his clay silver hair behind his ear and batted his eyelashes. “Admittedly, this is not how I wanted to meet the ranger who protects this forest but thank you for all your services.”
“You know me?” Ryoken said, surprised.
“Know of you.” Spectre clarified. “We of the forest benefit from the Queen’s protection as much as she benefits from our treasures.”
“Of course, that makes sense.” Ryoken said.
“So, how can I return the favour?” Spectre purred and he crawled into Ryoken’s lap, surprising him. He grinded over Ryoken’s crotch. “It is spring after all and I could sense your arousal all through my spawning. My, how unusual, I’ve never heard of a human who relishes the purge of seeds.”
Ryoken shuddered. He wanted to push Spectre off him as they began entangled in one another’s laps in the grass but he couldn’t deny. He had gotten quite hard over Spectre’s predicament. He had thought he had done a swell job of tamping down such untoward desires but perhaps the dryad could perceive more than a human could, including attraction. Then again, it was hard to mistake the fact that he had comed in his pants and that it had seeped through despite attempts in hiding it.
Ryoken licked his lips, “I didn’t mean to…”
“And I didn’t mean to let my natural cycle get away from me like that either.” Spectre replied.
It seemed there was much to learn about the dryadic species, Ryoken thought to himself and allowed himself to be turned on by Spectre’s thankfulness. Spectre kissed him on the lips and Ryoken savoured the floral notes of his alluring gratitude. Perhaps some more hands-on experience with him would prove useful if Ryoken wanted to be a mighty ranger of the forest, protecting all of its inhabitants.
The medicinal plants and the geese that laid golden eggs, the fragile ecosystem and especially the naiads and sylphs, the fey folk, and, most famously of all, dryads.
Or maybe just this dryad who had made himself known.