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THE HAG The story of a witch who captures, drugs and rapes a young girl for her potion. The Old Hag lived alone in the forest, and through the years had made a living concocting potions for trade with the outlanders, the civilized people who now called home “cities”. Her simple abode was usually deep in the woods, but she had to move closer to the hated lands of men as her tradecraft had been forgotten by the civilized world. Once feared and respected by the New World colonists, she was now nothing more than a forgotten memory from a darker past. She was known as a shaman, witch, hag, poltergeist, even sasquatch, and had many othe labels that both native and european villagers had given her in the last four hundred plus years. The Hag was a master herbalist, hunter, butcher, gardener, snake handler, survivalist, illusionist, and tracker. She knew every secret of the forest including herbs and roots, and could concoct many potions, lotions and inhalants from her vast array of ingredients. She grew her own mushrooms plants and exotic roots, some only possessed by her, cross pollinated and perfected over the centuries… The Hag needed a virgin girl of age. She would use the sweet blood of her deflowering to concoct a life extending potion for herself. It had been twenty years since she had used it last, and now her old bones were aching, and she knew it was time for the supernatural mixture to be prepared once again. The Hag watched the comings and goings of several rural roads, near her forest, for signs of a suitable girl for her planned mating, and waited with a patience known only to her kind… Cindy was excited about returning to school, she was 14, in the 8th grade, slim and leggy, with long auburn hair, blue eyes and well shaped breasts. She had been having her period for a year and a half now, and was getting used to her growing breasts. She took to riding her bike to and from school, down the country road until the weather turned bad in late October. She wore a home made knit brown and white long sleeved sweater, black gloves, a short wine colored cotton skirt, white microfibre tights, and navy flat runners. Her hair was long and blew in the wind, and she wore red lipstick. Her cheeks were flush and highlighted her high cheekbones. She was fresh and beautiful to behold. It was in the afternoon and she was riding her bike back along the road home. She had to pedal by a forest road that had the remains of an old logging road to the right side, past a now unused wooden gate. She approached this turnoff and stopped. She saw that there were broken trees and underbrush blocking the main road, and a path cut through to the right side, bypassing the obstruction that seemed to follow part of the old road. That was odd, she thought, as there was no storm today. She got off her bike and walked it and stopped. The path looked as though it cut around the blockage. The wind picked up, blowing her ponytail around, she could feel the cool breeze on her legs and felt uneasy about this place. She wanted to get home. She decided to ride down the old logging road, and cut through to the other side, it wasn’t far. She made good progress for about 100 yards, then the grass and undergrowth got thicker, so she decided to get off her bike and walk it. The trees were thick here, a mix of maple and spruce, with heavy underbrush. The sun was lower on the horizon now, and golden light streamed through the branches. She was getting concerned as she thought there was a path along the old road, but now she could not see one clearly, and was really off the old road entirely she thought. Then she saw a small path that seemed to head in the right direction, and again she rode her bike. The trees were less thick now and she rode under a canopy of trees that covered a more open area. She stopped several times to brush off a few twigs that had caught on her tights, and continued on. She walked her bike again, trying to get her bearings and saw that she had come into a large mushroom patch of some kind, grassy, under a canopy of thick trees. She didn’t remember such big mushrooms around here. They were quite large, 3 feet in diameter, and a foot high, orange and brown with red spots, that covered the ground. She hadn’t noticed them in the tall grass but now thought she had passed many of them. She didn’t like this at all, she was fearful that she had lost her way and turned around when she stepped on one of the mushrooms. A large puff of orange spore clouded out and up, covering her. She was startled by the huge plume And she brushed away the cloud and kept walking. She didn’t get far before she felt light headed, as if she didn’t have enough air. She braced herself on her bike, and then walked a few more steps. Of course she bumped another mushroom, and another spore cloud came out. “Oh!, no ughh!” she cried. She felt very dizzy and fumbled her way along, dropping her bike. She stumbled, and fell on another mushroom. The cloud went up again. Cindy got up, then fell to her knees, she was sweating now, and felt sick. She breathed in hard, trying to clear her head, she felt very wonky, like she had smoked too much hash that her friend Gabrielle had made her try once after school. She fell over and she lay on her back, looking up at the trees. She sat up, and looked at her legs, her tights were stained at the knees now, and she was covered with the orange dust of the mushrooms. She felt weak and slow minded, and tried to get up but couldn’t. She giggled but didn’t know why, this wasn’t funny she thought. Cindy heard a cackling laugh. She saw a figure approach her. The stranger looked like an old lady of some kind, dressed in a ripped old brown woolen robe, a rope belt, and sandals. She had long grey hair that hung loose, and an old wrinkled face with grey eyes. She carried a large crooked cane, and walked with a slight limp. She sat beside the confused young girl and stroked her leg with her bony hand. “I have reaped a harvest indeed with these fungus” she croaked at the girl, “you are a fine youngling, tell me your name” she asked. “I, I don’t feel very good, my name is Cindy” she replied. “Your not used to my crop young Cindy, most of your kind has lost the resistance to these spores” the Hag responded. “Im trying, to, get home, im lost” Cindy said to her. “Lost you are Cindy, yes, I will help you find you way home, after you have done me a boon“ the old woman replied. I sense you are in the cycles now, yes?” the Hag asked her, and felt further up the girls shapely thigh, she stroked her farther, up her skirt, and felt for her bush. “Ohhhhh” Cindy let out. “You have the down of a young woman, Cindy, and I see your breasts are ripe, and with that she squeezed her right melon. “Ohh” Cindy gasped. “Please, no, you shouldn’t do that, whats a boon?” Cindy asked, her eyes heavy. The Hag then pulled out a smaller mushroom nearby by the root, and with her other hand grasped the surprised girls head from the back. “All in good time, little one” The Hag knew the girl would succumb to the mushroom spores, liberally planted and positioned on the path. She had waylayed many young beauties over the years for ransom and trade in this way and the young ones were easily fooled by the forest paths she created. This one was not for ransom though, but for her budding flower between her legs. The Hag let out another cackle. Cindy woke up on a large wooden table just as the Hag was stripping her. She was naked save her tights, which were then pulled down and off. It was very warm, and smokey. She could tell it was after dark, and she could make out a large iron pot hoisted over a cooking fire by chains, the old woman stirring some boiling liquid with a large spoon. The ceiling looked like it was made of old brown twigs and branches, and there were many dried plants, herbs, and snakes hanging on the walls. She wasn’t tied up, but she was very weak and could not move. Her head was still fuzzy from the mushroom spores. She could smell the pungent odor of the place, almost overpowering. “I see you are awake, good” the old woman said to her. She took a green salve from a wooden bowl and applied a thick paste to her labia, rubbing it in her vaginal folds and over her precious mound. Cindy moaned loudly. The salve tingled, and after a few minutes, she was wiped clean with a steamed rag, removing her girl bush entirely. Cindy could see the hair that came off the rag. “I can’t have your bush ruining my recipe wench” the Hag told her. Cindy noticed her clothes in a heap in the corner, on a small table. “You aren’t going to be needing those” she was told “I will have you naked for your coupling” she said to her. The Hag took her white tights and hung them on the wall, “I will use those for straining herbs” she said matter of factly. Cindy didn’t think that’s where her expensive tights would have ended up today, as a prize on the wall of a witches lair. She started to sob, but was ignored by the Hag, who had other things on her mind than the girls dismay. The Hag picked up a large squash from a wooden basket, and plopped it into the cookpot. It was a good two feet long and three inches round. She let it boil for some minutes before taking it out. It was now pliant and warm, and the Hag knew its suppleness would find a home in the innocent girls vaginal canal. “What is that you are cooking?” the girl asked. The Hag did not reply. The Hag knew nothing of making love, only that she knew the squash was to be thrust into her victim after being properly cut to the right size. When the girls virgin blood was pouring, she would be harvested for her potion. The Hag placed the green squash on the table. “This is a fine plant, girl, it will do nicely” the Hag said. The old woman took a crude pairing knife and started expertly peeling and shaping the staff, fashioning a round, tapered end, with deep grooves down the sides, and a fat bottom. Cindy didn’t know what the old woman was doing, perhaps she was making something to eat? The Hag then lifted Cindys legs up at the knees to bend them, and spread her for the coming mating. Cindy now suspected what was coming, somehow she sensed the root was for her untouched sexual charms, and she was afraid of its potent looking size. She was convinced no such thing could fit into her body. Her vagina tingled still from the paste that had been applied, and unknown to the innocent girl, its special ingredients made her tight sex able to take a large phallus much more easier. The girl was paralysed with fear, and could not find her voice. Her skin was clean and she glistened in the firelight of the cooking pit, her dark hair was combed back and lay down over the end of the table, her shapely legs were raised and parted, and her freshly wiped pussy gleamed. She was ready. “Now time for you to pay me MY due, my young village wench” the Hag said to her, holding the huge tool in her hands, one end pointing towards the girls spread thighs. “Please no, I will do anything, that’s much too big” Cindy begged in a small voice, a last pitiful attempt to thwart her assailant, but it was too late for such silly notions of mercy. Cindy felt the first pressure as the Hag pushed the bulbous end to her sex “hold still and be mated” the Hag said to her. The end probed her, the girl let out a sudden yelp, then with pressure, slid into her canal and past her untried cunt lips. Its ribbed, warm end ploughing easily into her as the Hags strength guided its shaft into the young girl. The paste had done its work as a lubricant and the huge root was sliding to the hymen. The girls mouth was open wide with shock and her breathing was rapid, deeply traumatized at the impaling. She was being raped! her mind reeled. Cindy looked down in horror and could see the huge tool slide and twist into her, splitting her hairless cunt lips wide, and she cried out again in shock and fright. It was like some kind of sick fairy tale she thought, and she knew there would be no prince coming to her rescue! The Hag sensed victory, paused, and then thrust past her barrier to the girls fresh, high pitched screams, then in and out faster to model a man rutting with a newly found conquest. The plant was wet with her ruined sex, and streaked with her blood. The drilling continued, the long dink squash sliding in and out with a rhythm that ensured her complete deflowering. Cindy whimpered and babbled incoherently, her feet kicking down on the wooden table loudly as she was raped. Her shapely calves smacked down on the surface as she kicked out, but the Hag did not let up. The table was wet with her broken girlhood, and the Hag could smell her innocent passage. “Almost done girl, almost” the Hag smiled, showing her broken yellow teeth, squeezed the end hard for a final rutting, and thrust the glistening tool in and out of virgins canal as deep as it would go. Cindy was hoarse from screaming, and could only look down at her terrible predicament. The Hag then withdrew the huge tool, slowly, savoring its victorious foray, and the custom phallus came out with a slick sound. Cindy felt her canal scraped as it withdrew from her stretched passage, and the warm flood oh her virginity oozing from her sex. The Hag looked closely at Cindy’s vagina, the fresh girl had done her duty. “There my child, you have been mated, and ruined for your lack of respect for my woods”, the Hag said to her. The old woman took the blood stained spear, and threw it in the cookpot. Cindy wept openly once more, knowing she was helpless against the terrible old forest witch. She passed out. She came to some time later, and the Hag cradled her head and held a wooden bowl to the her lips and made her drink a snake venom potion to numb her and make her sleep, so she could be cleaned up and taken back to the forest road. Cindy did not resist, and drank the warm, bitter concoction, and drifted off minutes later, her aching sex forgotten in the drug induced slumber. A few days later Cindy was found at the side of the road, bound with vines and naked, stuffed in a wolfskin sack. She had been kidnapped and raped, but could not remember much of her ordeal. A search of the area found nothing, and the case was eventually blamed on a serial rapist who was arrested a few months later. Sometimes Cindy would dream of the mushroom patch, and the sounds of an old woman cackling. |