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Alraune Mandragora

By: wafflecone111



Marna, having finished with her chores, set out towards the woods as usual. Today was her eighteenth birthday. She decided that she had better make it an extra long walk in the woods today, to give her mother and father time to prepare the special birthday dinner she knew was coming. She did not look back, but Marna knew that her parent's eyes were on her, even as she walked the half mile between their home and the woods. They would be watching to make sure she was gone.

When she reached the woods she looked back. The house looked inviting in the cool grey autumn afternoon, but the woods beckoned her even more. She decided that she needed a new reading spot, since her old one was too near an ant pile for her comfort now. This was going to be her birthday present to herself, or from the woods, she couldn't decide which. The woods were almost her best friend, she thought as she walked through the large sugar maples and ash trees that thrived there. She always felt as if she were in a church, her church, when she was there.

Marna stood a bit shorter than most girls in the village, and quite thin. Her hair was so light yellow it looked nearly white at times. Her features were most fair; big eyes and dainty nose and chin, although she usually looked as if she were unhealthy or malnourished. Her parents couldn't seem to feed her enough to keep up with her feet. They were always off walking somewhere, when she wasn't tending to the family farm.

Marna had decided upon the area she would look for a new reading spot. It was a part of the woods that she hadn't really explored thoroughly, as the underbrush got a bit thick in some places. The leaves were beginning to fall, so Marna thought her chances of finding something were a bit better now. She searched for a log or a stump, or even a rock on which to perch. It had to be comfortable and clean, and it needed to be secluded so she wouldn't ever be bothered by passerby.

Down a steep slope, across a very old stream bed and through a thicket of smaller maples, Marna thought she spied a promising spot. Was it a log? A rock? She moved forward through the brush until she came upon the log. It was a big, old sugar maple that had fallen maybe a decade since. It lay with the top of the tree facing downhill, which was usual. Marna walked around it until she stood at the mass of leaves and ivy that had been the tree's roots. There seemed to be a small hollow of some sort, in the ground near the base of the tree...

Marna's head swam as her body fell. There was a rush of leaves, the air whisking past her head, her stomach seemed to leave her body and she finally landed with a soft thud. She could feel her body sliding down hill for a short distance after she hit ground. Leaves, small rocks and dirt showered all around her. She kept her eyes closed and covered her face with her hands, lying like this for some time until she was sure it was safe to move again.

It was dark! She had fallen into a hole. Was it the hole where the tree's roots had been? Was it a bear den? Marna's eyes were taking too long to adjust to the dark for her tastes. She began to scramble up, trying to climb towards the light. In doing so, she found that the ground was a thick carpet of leaves, and she slid right back down. Marna lay on her back and tried to pull herself together.

The hole she had fallen through was about three feet across by the look of it. She scanned the incline that had brought her here and decided that she must be at least ten feet underground and, craning her neck to one side, she could see that it went deeper off to her right. A mass of roots hung down all around, catching her hair and making it hard for her to move. The ground was actually quite soft. Years of leaves had probably blown into this hollow, making a thick cushion to break her fall.

Marna suddenly realized that this was quite the interesting find. The steep grade up to the opening did have a few thick roots which would allow her to climb out to freedom, but she didn't want to leave just yet. Pushing herself up, she stood inside the small cave, for it was big enough to be a cave, and looked around. A large part of the cave was made up by a hollow beneath the fallen tree's roots. The roots made up a large wall off to her left. Down and to her right, a small tunnel led downward, and into deeper darkness. She didn't dare go further down.

She moved back towards the roots of the tree and studied the ceiling. The trunk of the tree hung down into the cave and went out and up towards the middle. She had plenty of room to sit among the roots. She imagined that this was the type of thing forest gnomes would make their houses out of. She couldn't tell if anything lived here. There was no evidence that made her believe this was the case.

She sat there in the quiet hole, plucking sticks and leaves from her now tousled hair. The tunnel on the other side was curious, but she could not get herself to go near it. It was too dark, too uncertain. She knew she would have to go near it to get back up and out, but for now she was content to sit and think.

She began to think about last summer, when the man had come to the farm to sell them ice. The ice man was tall and dark haired, and very handsome. Marna even caught her mother sighing to herself after the man left, and she knew it must be the same sigh she had uttered. The man left them both feeling lovesick, but they would not speak of it to each other. Marna tried to keep her eye on the road for a few days afterward, watching to see if the man would come by that way again. He did not, but Marna had dreamed about him often ever since. She almost wished to fall asleep here, in the dark quiet of the cave, she thought, so she could dream of him again.

After some time in the darkness, Marna stood up again. She realized then that she had dropped her book somewhere when she'd fallen down into the hole. It must be in the mass of leaves somewhere. Marna got down on her hands and knees and began to search through the leaves below the hole, mindful of the dark tunnel a few steps away.

Suddenly her eyes were torn from the leaves and debris as her attention was drawn towards the tunnel. Had there been a sound? Something? She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that her heartbeat was so loud that it thumped in her ears and her breath caught in her throat as she stared into the blackness. Every inch of her flesh seemed to crawl with goose bumps. 

Eventually she could breathe again, and she tried to go back to her search for the book she had dropped. Clearing away a small pile of loose, dry leaves, she discovered something very strange. It was a mushroom unlike any she had ever come across in the woods. It stood a few hands high, was covered in tiny bumps, like warts almost, and it was dark purple with a bulbous, cherry red cap that came to a peak. Lower to the ground were smaller mushrooms, all the same color but much smaller. She could not recall ever hearing of such a mushroom. She hadn't noticed it before, either, even though she was sure it grew right where she had fallen.

She wondered if this particular mushroom was poisonous, and decided that she would tell her father about it when she returned home. Better yet, she would take one with her to show him. Being careful not to touch it with her hands, Marna used the hem of her skirt to grasp one of the smaller toadstools with. She was in for a surprise when, even with all her strength, she could not pluck one of the small button mushrooms from the ground. She tried one, then another, so frustrated by these confounded mushrooms that she wrapped her bare hands around the taller mushroom's stem and pulled. It was like trying to pull a strong sapling from the ground; it would not budge. 

Marna fell back, defeated. She lay back and pouted for a moment, but then laughed quietly at her predicament. She wagered to herself that the ice salesman was probably strong enough to free one of these cursed mushrooms from its roots. She laughed again, covering her mouth to stifle her own laughter. She did not want to wake whatever lie asleep at the end of that tunnel, if there was indeed such a thing to be feared.

Then she noticed yet another curious thing; her hands smelled sweetly of honeysuckle. Was it the mushroom? She sat up and crawled back towards the strange things. Bending down, she sniffed at the taller mushroom. It smelled sweeter than any flower she had ever known. It was a warm, comforting smell, like vanilla with a hint of baking bread. It smelled delicious.

Marna was quite happy to lie there on her stomach, breathing in the smell of the strangely beautiful mushrooms before her. A thought struck her, and she held her finger to her nose again. It smelled like cinnamon and new rubber erasers; hay and warm summer wind. She licked the tip of her finger. It tasted like nothing she had ever tasted before.

Moving herself even closer, Marna brushed the mushroom with her cheek, breathing in the intoxicating aromas. She inhaled deeply, letting the heady scent fill her lungs. Leaving caution behind her, Marna licked the mushroom once. It tasted like honey. She licked it again. It tasted like peach cobbler. It tasted like every wonderful dessert that her mother had ever made for her and then some.

Marna grasped the mushroom by the stem and bent the tip into her mouth. She sucked the cap in her mouth like a milking calf. It tasted better than all the hard candy she'd ever bought from the drug store, and it didn't seem to go away. She sucked and sucked, licked and licked, and it tasted better and better...

Marna awoke on her back, staring up at the hole in the ground. It was light outside, but she could see that the light of day was fading. Suddenly, she remembered the mushroom, and sat up. Where the mushroom had been there was only a group of the smaller ones. Where had it gone? When had she fallen asleep? Was she poisoned? She was suddenly worried that she'd harmed the mushroom somehow. She looked among the little purple and red buttons amidst the leaves on the ground and couldn't make out where the big one had been. She bent and licked one of the smaller ones, but it was bitter and made her gag instantly. Marna stood up, coughing, and made her way up the slope towards the opening. She got to the top and heaved herself out, laying on the ground above. There she found her book, lying in a clump of bluebells.

On her way home, she decided against telling her father about the mysterious mushrooms. She had also decided that her new reading spot had been found; the cave.

That evening, Marna's birthday dinner went by merrily. She ate more than usual. She was given letters from her cousins and her mother baked her her favorite: apple crumble. Her presents were a new bridle so she could ride her mother's horse more comfortably, a new hair brush and stack of new books from a publisher in New York. It was everything she wanted and more.

Marna lay in her attic bedroom that night, looking out the window at the stars that shown through gaps in the clouds. It was a dark night, so the stars seemed brighter than usual. Marna fell asleep thinking not of her ice salesman, but of the cave. It would have kept her awake if she hadn't been so utterly exhausted. She slept even deeper than she had when she was much younger.

Marna's parents let her sleep until nine. They both stood by her bed to wake her, smiling down at her as she stirred finally. "Well!" her father exclaimed, "It seems that old age comes sooner for some. Get up, sleepyhead!"Eventually, Marna found herself yawning out in the barn, doing her chores. Her parents had agreed to give her a little coffee that morning, as she seemed so unusually lethargic. It had helped a little, but still Marna yearned for her bed.

Once her chores were finished, Marna found herself energized instantly with the thought of a second visit to her new reading spot. She plucked up one of her new books, wrapped herself in a winter shawl and set out for the woods. Thinking better of it, she went back to the kitchen and opened the tool drawer. Inside, she found a candle and a small book of matches which she stuffed in her front pocket.

Once to the edge of the woods, Marna found herself running. Her curiosity pulled her as fast as her feet could carry her through the woods to her mysterious cave. She made it, and stood there, looking down into the hole that remained next to the huge fallen maple. She crawled backwards through the opening and eased herself down, letting herself slide when she was far enough down. She came to rest among the piles of leaves, and lay there for a moment. She had been wanting this all day, and now there she was.

She moved back towards the root wall. Finding a good place to sit, she produced the candle and matches from her pocket. Lighting the candle, she used its light to find a place where it could stand on its own amongst the roots. This done, she sat back and opened her new book.

"Ah..." Marna declared, satisfied with her new arrangement. It was a rather comfortable spot after all. The book seemed like a good one, too. This was Marna's idea of heaven.

After reading for a time, Marna caught herself being distracted with thoughts of her ice salesman. She could not help but picture one of the characters in the book as looking like this tall and handsome man that was the object of her secret affection. Since this character played a major role in the story, Marna was forced to think of him regularly and soon, her thoughts were of him completely. She put the book down on her lap and let her thoughts wander. She could almost imagine that he was there with her in the cave. What would he think of it? What would he think of her? Her mind played with these thoughts as she nodded off, falling fast asleep.

She dreamed, blessedly, of the ice salesman. He came into her cave and commanded that she let him kiss her. Even in her dreams it seemed that she was too shy, but he kissed her anyway. It was a wonderful dream, and it was over too soon, as many dreams are.

Marna awoke then and looked to the candle. An hour had passed since she'd fallen asleep. She looked around her cave, as if looking for her tall, handsome savior. Instead, sticking up from beneath the sea of leaves that covered much of the floor of the hollow, stood the mushroom.

Marna almost wondered if she slept still, and this was but a dream. No, it seemed real, she thought as she crawled towards the mushroom. It stood tall and proud in the patch of light that came from the hole above. What a strange thing that grew here, down in the dark of a cave. Moving forwards on her hands and knees, Marna cleared the patch of leaves away only to find that the mushroom had seemed to have grown twice as tall as it had been. It nestled as before, among the young mushrooms that grew around it. This time, though, it seemed to be mostly red. Did it bloom like this when the sunlight hit it? Marna couldn't be sure. She touched it. The surface was smooth, but it was hard like rubber. Kneeling before the strange specimen, it rose almost to her chest.

She knelt there, in the light with her strange companion. It was almost as if she still slept, and this was again some strange dream. She lowered her face to the bright red spire-like tip and nuzzled it gently. It smelled like warm leather and maybe a hint of chamomile. She sniffed it and breathed it in, letting the vapor fill her senses. She licked the tip lightly, savoring the ambrosia that filled her mind. It made her feel good, made her feel warm.

Marna felt her cheeks go red as she began to suck on the delectable phallus. It was like the time she snuck some of her father's wine into her room. She felt good, she felt free. She stood up and danced in lazy circles around the small cave, laughing. She needed to taste more of the beautiful mushroom, and felt suddenly that her clothing was hampering her ability to be near to it. She shed her dress and shawl, standing naked save but for her shoes and knee-length socks. Her body was slender and pale. Her flesh looked like ice next to the bold color of the mushroom. Her small breasts were beautifully round and graced with pretty pink nipples. Her butt was like two silver dewdrops atop her slender yet shapely legs. 

She knelt again, with the mushroom standing up between her knees. She wrapped her arms around it and rubbed it against her skin. She kissed the crimson tip and believed that it must feel the same way to kiss her dream lover. She moved closer to it, trying to feel it with her whole body. She felt the little mushrooms that grew all around under her, nestled in amongst them. As she sucked on the huge growth that kept beckoning her hunger, she felt another, smaller mushroom beneath her. As she moved her body, she felt it pressing against her seat. She squirmed on top of it, grinding her little rear into the hard little buttons. As one of them pierced her womanhood, she cried out loudly. It had entered her suddenly and painfully. It was foolish to fear that anyone might hear her way out here in the woods, and underground. She sucked and sucked, and squirmed as her precious fluids fell to the earth...

Marna was far too entranced to react with anything but awe and further pleasure as the mushroom began slowly to writhe in her grasp. It rose from the ground, growing larger and larger. She felt the ground beneath her shifting as each individual stem awoke from an ageless slumber. The tiny mushrooms moved against her legs like silken snakes, and the large, dominant mushroom towered above her now, unfolding continuously into a large vibrant flower. The smaller mushrooms grew, too, turning to slender tendrils that wrapped around each of her legs warmly. She lay back on the ground, feeling her lover grasping her legs and pulling her in. She moaned and clenched her little ivory fists with ecstasy.

The long stem of the mushroom bent down over her naked body, as the smaller ones set about cosseting her slowly and gently. She felt them inching up her delicate thighs; pressing into her skin here and there, probing, squeezing her. She was completely lost in this pleasure. All she could do was beg that she didn't wake from this dream as the mushroom bent down towards her face. The tip wept with the sweet nectar that had hurtled Marna into her abyss of magnetism. All at once there were silken feelers at the vestibule of her womanhood. They woke something inside her, made her cry out as they moved against her.

The trunk of the great mushroom snaked against her stomach, her chest. As Marna began to awake from her deep, dark hypnosis, the stamen of the great blossom, dripping with her sweet acquiescence, plunged into her gaping mouth. She grasped the thick, snaking mass and fed hungrily at the sticky stamen that was in her throat. Again she tasted everything she wanted, sweet, savory, gentle spice; it was the purest ambrosia she would ever know. The nectar began to flow so that she was able to take it in great gulps, and soon her belly was full. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the long stamen made it's last sweet love to her and withdrew. Warm, pearly nectar flowed freely from her mouth as she gasped with ecstasy.

A lone palpus had found its way to her anus and was pushing its way into her guts. Then another slender tendril penetrated her inner sanctum. It wormed its way deep within her womb and stayed there, throbing and twitching against her insides. She felt the others holding her legs while she was invaded. As her body began to rise with the force of her captor's defilement, the great mushroom had now fully blossomed, and seemed to be poised above her face. She stared back into the crimson bloom, stupefied and spellbound. 

The mushrooms began to free their spore, oozing from the tips with small amounts of the viscous seed. Marna started to orgasm, and the two tendrils that penetrated her lashed violently at her insides while they erupted. The huge blossom seemed to open even wider as her first ever orgasm wracked her soul. She threw her head back and knew only white light and pure pleasure as every inch of her body was stimulated to the breaking point. 


Alraune Mandragora Ch. 02



Marna awoke with a start. She had been having a wonderful dream, and was dreadfully sad that it had ended so abruptly. Still, something had awoken her. She sat up.

Her smallish attic room was lit by the moonlight streaming in through the single window at the head of her bed. It shone down on her quilt, making all the colored patches that looked so cheerful during the day a uniform shade of gray. It shone down on her long golden hair, which looked silver in the light of the moon. Marna turned towards the window and looked out. The glass was old, warped and dirty on the outside, so she could not make out much past the moonlit shingles of the roof and the moon itself. She pried the old window latch open, heaved the window up and shivered as a cold rush of winter air rolled inside and over her body. Her skin erupted in goose bumps all over under the thin flannel of her nightgown. She looked out.

She could see across the fields behind her house, all the way to the edge of the woods where she walked every day. All was quiet. Sometimes coyotes came around, raising their mournful noises, waking Marna up with a chill down her spine. Tonight there were no coyotes. The only sound was a very distant owl, probably miles away.

Marna crossed her arms on the small window sill and rested her chin upon them. She watched the chilly, moonlit landscape for a while, enchanted by its stark beauty. The cold air played upon her slender body, making her shiver slightly from time to time. She wondered what it would be like to go walking in the woods on a night like tonight. Her favorite reading spot, on the far end of the woods, would probably be very cold. She would need to dress warmly tomorrow.

"Winter is coming." Marna whispered, surprised at the sound of her words. "We must hurry." 

In the morning, Marna woke late again. For the past month she had found it next to impossible to wake up at her usual half-past six. Her parents didn't seem to upset by this, but she liked getting up early. She pulled her dress over her head and tugged it down over her torso. It felt tight and uncomfortable, but it was the newest dress she had. After eating quickly she put on her winter boots and shawl and set out to find her mother and father. There were always chores to be done on the farm, even though it was a small one.

At noon Marna was finished. She stood by the stove in the kitchen, munching some bread and apple. Her father was having coffee, her mother tea.

"Marna," Her mother announced. "We're riding to the village today. You must stay here and watch the farm while we are gone."

This was unusual. Marna was always along with her parents on their trips to town. Marna argued this, but it was useless. She was staying home. She watched as her parents hitched up their wagon in front and rode away, bouncing down the road to town. Marna was frustrated. Why was she left behind?

She decided to go to the woods. Her parents would be several hours, and she could be back in time to meet them. No one would come to the house while they were gone. No one ever did. Marna bent over to pick up a big log for the wood stove, so that the fire wouldn't go out while she was out. To her dismay, the seam of her dress tore loudly along her back when she bent over. Nothing was going well today.

She went upstairs to her small room and took off her dress. Standing only in her wool stockings and boots, she examined the tear. She would have to stitch it later. For now she put on one of her old dresses. It was so tight it nearly ripped when she pulled it down over her hips. 

"Too much butter, Marna!" She cried to herself, smacking her hip with her palm in frustration. She could not button the front of the old dress, and was amazed at the mass of cleavage that gathered there. She wrapped herself in her shawl and climbed back down the ladder, book in tow.

Setting off across the yard, and then the fields towards the woods, Marna felt her blossoming body pressing against the fabric of her dress. She was really growing fast. She wondered if her mother was buying new fabric for new dresses in town. She hoped this was the case.

Walking slowly through the bare trees and fallen leaves, Marna came to her secret. There, hidden under a fallen tree that lay in the farthest reaches of Marna's woods, was a small cave. Marna had been reading there for a month now, and it was her favorite place to read and to dream. She walked around the fallen maple tree and pulled up the cover of fallen branches and leaves that lay over the mouth of the small hollow. Lowering herself down like she had done many times, Marna was home.

Inside, there were now a few candles, her secret diary, dried flower arrangements and a walking stick she had found; all resting on the roots of the great tree that had fallen, creating the small cave that Marna now claimed. On the other side of the opening, nearer to the opening or "door" that lead back up into the world above, there was a dark tunnel.

The tunnel was big enough for Marna to crawl into, if she ever got up enough courage. It seemed to lead downward, but Marna could not say for sure. The tunnel was dark. The tunnel could lead to China for all she knew. All she knew was that the tunnel had scared her at first. Now, she respectfully ignored it and it didn't bother her as much. 

If only she knew how many times she HAD crawled into that tunnel. But she could not know, for the inhabitant of the tunnel and the cave made sure of it. 

She sat down in her usual spot among the roots and lit a candle. Opening her book, she began to read. It did not take more than a few moments for her to fall into the deep sleep that day; the deep dark sleep that always took hold of her when she visited the cave. The same blessed sleep that allowed her to dream dreams that were so very real to her. This time it was a man in a riding suit that came to her, standing in the candlelit cave with his hand outstretched towards her, welcoming her. He was the most handsome man Marna had ever seen. Would he kiss her?

She stood, dropping her book as she did so. The cave was lit brightly by a warm, orange glow. The glow seemed to come from nowhere. Marna stepped towards the man. He reached forward to her and undid her shawl, letting it fall. When her shawl hit the ground, it sent a flurry of the old dry leaves twirling and fluttering up into the air inside the cave. They floated there, catching the warm light of the tunnel and Marna's candle, moving through the air like cottonwood seed. The man looked down at her young bosom bursting forth between the buttons of her old dress. Marna shivered as he reached down to pull her skirt up, helping her out of the dress. 

She stood naked in front of the man, blushing bashfully. He looked her up and down and seemed to approve of what he saw, as if he marked some improvement with his visual appraisal of her body. Stooping down near the mouth of the tunnel, the man held his hand out to her in a welcoming gesture. Marna caught a whiff of the perfume that came from the tunnel. It smelled like flowers and wine.

Marna knew to obey the man. She got down on all fours and crawled towards the tunnel, shedding her boots as she went. She looked up into his eyes before continuing into the tunnel. They were the most honest, kind eyes she had ever seen. The man seemed to make a promise, merely with his gaze. He would not harm her. He would keep her safe. She rose to her knees and kissed him passionately. He rewarded her by returning the kiss, and they kissed long and slow. When she opened her eyes again, her world had begun to skew slightly, to spin ever so slowly. The handsome man held his hand out towards the tunnel, bidding her descend. The warm glow of the tunnel was most inviting, so Marna crawled inside.

Her slender body had more than enough room to crawl inside. The tunnel took her downwards, and then up again abruptly. Moving forwards, towards the light, Marna emerged into the small chamber at the end of the tunnel. The soft, orange glow of the chamber was calming, as was the heat. The source of the pulsating light was the small, bulbous mushrooms that completely lined the chamber from top to bottom. It was about the size of her bed, with enough room for her to kneel in the center. Marna reached into the chamber, feeling the soft, warm surface that the mushrooms provided. She laid her body down inside, feeling the silky smooth, velvet skin of the mushrooms against her. She felt warm and safe, deep inside her deepest secret.

In the ceiling of the long, low chamber, opened up a fissure amidst the mass of mushroom caps. From this opening emerged a long, snakelike proboscis. It was as thick as Marna's leg at one end, and tapered to a tip like an unopened tulip blossom. This tip lowered itself until it was inches from Marna's face. She grasped it with her slender, alabaster fingers and pulled the tip of the phallus into her mouth. It tasted like honey, salt water taffy and peppermint all in one. It tasted better than anything. The tip opened slightly at the touch of her tongue, releasing a trickle of sweet submission onto her palette.

The entire chamber began to move, as each individual mushroom awoke. She felt them caress her, felt the massage of hundreds of velvet caps against her body. Some began to grow and move about her. Two of the stems extended around her ankles lovingly, pulling them slowly apart. 

She sucked at the head of the great protuberance as it fed her drops of deception. Small blossoms began opening up above her, all around her. They opened wide, gathering her brilliance, feeding on her radiance. As she sucked, the tip released a single drop of nectar, which she swallowed hungrily. 

Another growth came down from above, smaller than the first. Its dark red and purple skin was covered with small bumps, like warts. It looked like a smaller version of the prominent member that was feeding her, complete with the spire shaped crimson tip.  

"Ah..." She laughed zealously, "A new floret. Isn't it beautiful?" 

The new growth writhed in the air between her legs, seeming to stretch itself longer and longer. The tip of the floret began to weep with the precious nectar. Several more small mushrooms wrapped around her gently, massaging her body into a state of complete relaxation. One reached up and began to nudge one of her nipples. She gasped, feeling a fresh chill of pleasure run down her spine.

The smaller flower began to provoke the tenderness between her legs. It hunted for a mouth to feed, leaving teardrops of sticky nectar all over her thighs and upturned stomach. Finally it found home inside the opening of her vagina. Her back arched with pleasure as she felt the squirming tentacle push itself into her. The tip felt wonderful until it breached her, when suddenly a bolt of pain struck her. The chamber darkened momentarily, and Marna thought she would faint. She pulled the stamen that was feeding her from her lips and cried out.

"Ohhh... please be gentle, my love!" She cried. Streamers of sticky nectar that was now flowing readily from the large organ hung in the air between her open mouth and the head. They dripped down upon her face before she welcomed the slithering stamen back into her throat.

A mushroom pushed up amongst the others between her legs and pushed in against her. She could feel it prodding against her anus. When a small amount of slippery spore had been released, the mushroom's head passed through the opening to her bowels and invaded her rectum. She winced, and resumed her feeding, rubbing the great member up and down with her hands as it granted her desire. 

Drops of nectar and spore began to rain down upon her from everywhere. This rain continued until her body was slick with the excretions. She reached down and grasped the flailing tentacle that was now spraying its nectar wildly, and thrust its head into her. She felt pain again, but was so rabid with lust that she simply made sounds of pleasure as the thing took her. Overcome by her own lust and the myriad sensations assailing her young body, she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, Marna lay on her stomach, with a pool of white nectar streaming from her mouth. She had nearly drowned.

She looked up. The blossoms were almost closed, and the large tentacle that had turned her over was rubbing against her back tenderly. She pushed herself up and rubbed against its trunk. The blossoms above her head opened wide.

"Oh you saved me..." Marna moaned. "I know you won't let me drown." She knelt there, holding her lover tenderly.

She caressed the large tentacle up and down, fondling every part of its slick surface. One of the mushrooms in the floor rose up to touch the tender, wet flesh between her legs. She smiled and moved her body downward slowly, feeling the tip enter her. It was thinner than the younger tentacle, and soft and forgiving.

"There, that's how we do that!" Marna chirped. She began to move up and down, feeling the texture of the mushroom tickle her inner flesh.

The great tentacle presented itself to her once again, and she licked the tip clean of nectar before taking the tender stamen into her throat. The blossoms along the walls of the chamber were in full bloom, awaiting her climax.

As she guzzled the nectar that began to flow into her, it trickled in pearly rivulets down her body; down her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach and down into her thighs. She began to pump her body up and down upon the erect mushroom that throbbed inside her, piercing her very womb. 

The smaller, impish tentacle descended once again and rubbed against her back. Instinctively, it sought the third opening in her body, and found it. Soon she was penetrated completely, with the tentacle in her rectum spewing its nourishing fluids almost instantly. Marna continued to move her body, undulating her hips, feeling the warmth of her approaching orgasm deep inside. She was now covered with streams of excess nectar. It soaked into her skin, soaked the mushroom that penetrated her, ran down her face and shoulders, dripped off of her hard candy nipples...

As she climaxed, she felt the smaller tentacle shooting spurts of nectar into her lower bowel. Her belly was full of it. She was so full of this heaven that she had to have release. She cried out and collapsed to the floor of the chamber. The blossoms spread open wider with each pulse of her orgasm. As she came, and came again, the tentacle in her rectum continued its frenzy as she relaxed, nectar draining from her bowels. She fell to the floor with it still inside her, writhing and flailing in the sticky mess. The mushroom that had pleasured her wilted once again and returned into the floor, its spore spent inside her, its tip lost in her insides. She fell into a deep sleep, drunk with pleasure. 

She could hear a voice surround her in her slumber. "You have grown so well. Soon you will be hungry for what we cannot give. Your growth will help you bring us another, so that we may continue to feed. Go, child. Grow." 

While Marna was cast still deeper into sleep, tiny tendrils like roots covered her body. They probed her and pierced her flesh like tiny needles, taking root inside her. Changing her.

When Marna awoke, she lay on the floor of her cave naked. The vision of the man was gone, and her body was cold and clammy. She dressed herself quickly, feeling the need for the fresh air above. She had done it again; fallen asleep and taken her clothes off.

Up above, she looked around. It must have been several hours since she went down below! Her parents wouldn't be back yet, but she hurried anyway. Back through the woods, back across the fields, back into the warmth of her home.

That night while she took a bath, her parents came home. They seemed to be in a good mood. She could smell her father's pipe tobacco and hear her mother singing. When they came in the front door, Marna called to them from the tub.

Marna's mother entered the bathroom, carrying three new dresses for her.

"Here, dear. I had these made for you by your Aunt Moira. She's a wizard with a needle, you know." Marna's mother laid the dresses over the back of the changing chair in the bathroom.

"Oh!" Marna stood from the tub in her excitement. "Thank you! I needed those!"

"Yes, I know you di-" Marna's mother was cut short by the sight of Marna's naked body. "...I mean I, I know you need them. That's why I bought them."

Marna stood, beaming, naked in the hot bath tub. To her mother's eyes, Marna must have gained a good twenty pounds or more in the past month, which was disturbing enough. But it was the way she was gaining it that was the most disturbing. Marna was taking on the sort of figure that would curse a woman to a life of trouble. Marna's mother shut the bathroom door behind her and crossed herself, shaking her head.

In the bathroom, Marna happily returned to her bath. So what if she had gained a little weight, she thought. Her parents always complained she was too skinny anyway.

She finished up her bath and hopped out, toweling off in a hurry. She pulled one of her new dresses over her head and thrust her arms into the sleeves. The fabric felt a little coarse, but it would get softer with use. Aunt Moira had outdone herself! The dress fit perfectly.

The dress wouldn't fit so well in another month.



Alraune Mandragora Ch. 03



Marna guided the plow with uncertain hands. Her father watched from some distance away, hands tucked in his belt. Even though Marna's blundering attempts behind the plow could be seen as somewhat comical, Dirk's stern look would not afford a turn for anything jovial. He trained her grudgingly, worrying always that she would hurt herself performing such tasks. Still, she insisted on helping, and Marna's mother insisted that Dirk humor her.

Anything, Hilda had explained, to keep Marna's spirits up.

It had been an uncomfortable winter for all three of them. Marna had been becoming more and more taciturn as the days went by. Her parents knew something was wrong with her. Marna hadn't stopped gaining weight since winter began, and it had affected her mood noticeably.

After a half hour, Marna decided to let her father have a go at the plow once again. The ground was still cold and hard, she insisted. Dirk gave her a weak smile and took the rein. Marna returned to the barn to help her mother.

Marna retired to the house to make lunch after a while, and Hilda joined Marna's father in the field. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and Dirk began to speak.

"She's getting worse, you know." He said simply.

Hilda stared at the newly plowed rows in the field and sighed. "I know. But what are we to do? Summer will come, and she will want to spend time in the village..."

"Aye," Dirk nodded, solemnly. "And who would recognize her? The poor girl."

"As soon as this barley is in, I think we should take her to stay at your sister's house up north." Hilda suggested. "The country up there would distract her, I think. I could watch her for a while to see if it helps her."

Dirk shook his head. "Maybe you should take her sooner than that. Next week I'll pack the wagon for you, and you can return the month after if all goes well."

Hilda frowned and began to argue, but Dirk's hand shot up and gripped her shoulder, interrupting her speech.

"Hilda, look." His arm shot out towards the road.

Hilda squinted into the distance and could just make out someone moving along the road. "Who is it?" She asked.

"Maybe the answer to our prayers, Hilda." Dirk said, as if it were true. "Come with me!"

Dirk marched over the fields towards the road and Hilda followed behind him. She could see now that someone was riding a small wagon along the old road, and that Dirk was moving to intercept the traveler. As they moved nearer to the road, Hilda could understand Dirk's urgency.

The man on the wagon was a priest.

Hilda watched as Dirk began to run and wave his arms. "Father!" He yelled after the man. Hilda could see that the shout had caught the priest's attention. After a few moments, Hilda could see the wagon slowing down. The priest was waiting for them. Hilda slowed to a walk, making her way to the point where the three of them would commune.

~

Marna looked up as the front door opened and her parents entered, followed by a stranger. It took Marna a moment to recognize the man as a priest, and her hand went to her chest as she bowed in respect.

"Father, welcome to our home." Marna said warmly, standing straight again to look at the man.

The priest stood in the doorway, wreathed in the light of day, looking like an icon of all that is bright and holy. He entered quietly and smiled to Marna. When he spoke, his voice conveyed boundless patience and confidence.

"Thank you, my child." The priest said, entering and closing the door behind him.

"Please, sit by the fire, Father," Hilda commanded, "And Marna, if you could put on some water."

The priest, Dirk and Hilda all took chairs near the wood stove. Marna set the kettle on the hot iron stove.

"You may be excused, Marna." Dirk said simply.

Marna paused for a moment. "Yes sir." She replied. She fetched her cloak (which used to be her father's) and wrapped it about her and the patchwork dress that she wore. She plucked her book from the table and went to the back door. She heard the low tones of her parents and the priest talking behind her. She could only assume that they were talking about her.

Outside, the sun shone but gave little warmth to an early spring day. Marna walked slowly towards the forest that bordered her family's farm. She would give the conference near the wood stove a few hours and then return home. 

Inside the house, a story was told to the priest. He listened quietly, while staring intently into the open door of the wood stove. The flames within would dance and light his solemn face from time to time. His face did not seem to change as he listened, no matter how curious the details of Marna's winter had been.

When the story was told, the priest sat in silence, still as the chair that he sat in. His hands shifted upon the arms of the chair, and he looked up at the two storytellers who were watching him so expectantly. 

"I am of Culrose Monastery, to the north. The monks who lived there in days past were the keepers of a great library. Since the monks have been gone many years, a group of canoness have gathered there to keep contemplation. It is well away from the cloister, but at least five of the sisters have found sanctuary there. When I return, I will send word to them of your daughter's plight."

Dirk took Hilda's hand and addressed the priest further. "Father, do you believe that our daughter is in danger?"

The priest stood then. He held his hands over the stove to warm them. "If she has gone into the earth, as you say, she may be conducting rites which have put her in harms way. It is not unheard of for the young and curious to bring this sort of woe upon themselves."

The couple exchanged worried looks at the thought of this.

"Unwittingly, of course" The priest stated, as if to stifle their worry. 

"What can we do?" Hilda asked, taking her husband's hand.

"If the girl is cooperative, as you say, and her temperament has remained consistent, you can try to keep her at home. Sending her away, even as you have done now, may be serving to further her defilement." The priest said, moving towards the door. He plucked his hat from its peg and settled it upon his head. "I must continue on my errand. I will send word soon. Continue your prayers."

"Thank you, father." Dirk said, standing.

"I only hope I can be of real assistance. Stand firm in the light of God." He nodded to both of them and was gone, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~

That night, Marna's curiosity got the best of her, and, sneaking down after all the lights in the house were out, she listened intently at her mother and father's bedroom door. She could not hear all of their whispers, but more than once her mother raised her voice in frustration. Marna heard enough to know that the priest had made arrangements to send Marna away from home. 

Marna returned to her bed, as silently as a mouse. Even with her added bulk, she still knew how to keep the house quiet while moving through it. She sat on her bed with a heavy creak and stared out the window. She surprised herself by finding quite a bit of excitement in the thought of leaving home. Maybe it was the long winter, or the fact that her strange condition seemed to be truly troubling her parents; she couldn't know. Marna wondered what sort of place the priest meant to send her to. These thoughts continued, turned to dreams, and then deep, deep sleep.

It took two weeks for any word to reach the farm again. Dirk was seated on the front porch, mending his saddle, when the sound of hooves and wagon wheels made him look up. There, at turning on to the small track that lead to the house from the road, was the priests small horse drawn wagon. This time, however, two figures rode upon the wagon's bench. The riders wore black hoods, with a spot of white showing beneath. These were the sisters the priest spoke of. He had kept his word, as Dirk knew he would.

Dirk stood to welcome the sisters. "Hilda!" He called, "We have visitors."

Hilda stepped through the front door and walked towards the approaching wagon. Dirk took her arm and stood with her, and the two of them waited together.

Nearly a mile away, Marna watched from the treeline. This was it; the day she would leave her home. Her parents had told her that she would be leaving, but they weren't able to give her any details. Her feelings had been confused, and now she felt panicked. How long were they expecting to keep her? What would her life be from now on? Marna turned away from the sight of her fate being decided for her and retreated into the trees. She ran as well as she could, as well as her great, deformed body would allow. Once her blood was hot, she began to cover ground much faster. She felt as if she were trying to run under water, but she kept running.

Crashing her way through the underbrush, Marna emerged through the trees and found her fallen tree waiting for her. She stumbled towards it, pitching herself headlong into the thinly disguised hole that she knew was there. She fell into darkness, sliding down the short embankment into her secret lair. She pushed through the loose debris that collected around her, and knelt before the deeper darkness that was a narrow tunnel that lead deeper underground. 

"Please, I know you can hear me." Marna begged the darkness. "I think others know about our secret. I don't know if I will return."

Marna felt a consciousness awaken in the darkness, as if a light was somehow filling the cave around her. A voice spoke in her mind.

"You are the secret. You will always return, for you carry us with you."

Marna stared into the blackness, confused. She didn't quite know what she was doing there, didn't quite know what the voice in her head meant by what it had said to her. She felt torn; part of her wanting to go and part of her wanting to stay and beg the darkness to let her stay forever.

"We have given you all we can. Now we must rest. Go; plant your seed in safe darkness. If you return, bring another."

Marna shook her head and turned back towards the light above. She scrambled upwards and lay pitifully on the carpet of leaves and sticks that surrounded the hole. When she managed to get up, she threw a bundle of sticks and debris over the hole to conceal it. Her old reading spot would be awfully lonely without her. Marna began to weep as she turned towards home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The wagon clattered along the well-worn road as it headed north. Marna bounced along, feeling her spirits rise as she rode farther north than she had been in ages. She rode in back, laying on a small pile of straw, one elbow propped up on the sack that her mother had so thoughtfully packed for her. The landscape passed by her slowly, and soon she began to relish the ride. Her companions weren't very talkative, but they seemed kindly enough.

The driver was Sister Ursula. The woman sitting next to Sister Ursula was Sister Margaret, who apparently was the abbess of the small group who occupied Marna's new home. Sister Margaret was especially quiet. 

When Marna had returned to her house earlier that day, both of the holy women had been waiting for her on the back porch. Her parents stood behind them. When Marna approached, the two women crossed themselves and muttered silent prayers. This wouldn't be the last time they did this. They greeted her with kindness, but Marna felt as if they were suspicious of her.

Now, the three of them rode somewhat merrily towards their destination. Marna would comment on a tree, or a bird, or maybe a flower from time to time, and the sisters would agree that these things were truly wonderful. They were friendly, even if they did not seem to encourage much conversation. Marna didn't know what to think of this.

After two days of riding, with two stops to pass the night under some hospitable willow or maple trees, Sister Ursula guided the wagon off the main road and through a large field. A faint wagon track made their progress easy, and soon they were on another road. The three travelers followed this until dark. Then, up on a hill, Marna could see lights. The horse began to climb some forested switchbacks, and soon they came to a halt outside a small gate. A figure emerged from the darkness and took the reins from Sister Ursula.

"Thank you, sister." Ursula said. A lamp flared out of the darkness, and light was cast onto the scene. The gate opened and the horse was led into a small stables. Marna looked around as best she could, but the unfamiliar surroundings were mostly dark.

"Come, child." Sister Margaret said from somewhere in the dark. "We must get you inside."

The lamplight shone on Sister Margaret's outstretched hand. Marna picked up her bag and stepped down from the wagon, with the woman's assistance. Sister Margaret maintained her grip once Marna was on the ground. "It is dark, child. I will lead you inside."

Shadows loomed all around as a few more lamps joined them. They walked through what appeared to be a crumbling cloister, and came to a wooden doorway. This opened, and a black robbed woman beckoned them inside. Marna thought she counted half a dozen women in all, but she couldn't be sure. They all gathered inside and the door was closed. The women stood around, fluttering their garments like birds flapping their wings. Each of them crossed themselves and muttered a prayer, and more lamps were lit. Soon, seven faces in golden lamplight were beaming at Marna.

"Welcome to our humble home, child." Margaret said warmly. "We keep this place from total ruin, and in return the priory down the hill keeps us fed. Sisters, introduce yourselves to our guest."

Each of the women introduced themselves to Marna in turn. She smiled and greeted each one, bowing a little as she did so. 

"But it is late," Margaret said. "We will have to keep further introduction of ourselves and our home until tomorrow. Now we must get you put up for the night. Sister Ursula, would you please take her things. Sister Mira, take Marna to her room. Good night, God keep you, sisters."

Each of the sisters said their good nights and dispersed, some taking to stairs, others heading off through passages leading off into the cloister. Sister Mira bowed to Marna and bid her follow. Marna obeyed. After several stone passages, stairways and a closed door, Marna found herself in what was to be her room. It was simply furnished with a wooden bunk, a chair and an empty bookshelf. Where a window might have been, the wall was paneled by a large ornate wooden screen. A cloth hung from the ceiling, and behind it marna could see a stone washtub built into the wall. Steam rose from the tub.

"Sister Margaret ordered you a bath, so there you have." Sister Mira said, pointing to the tub behind the curtain. "Morning meal is early, so someone will come for you. If you need anything, pull that string and a bell will sound." 

Marna turned around and around, looking at the strange room. It was like a crypt. How far down were they?

"Good night." Sister Mira said, after awaiting Marna's response.

"Good night." Marna said, watching her go. The door thumped closed.

Marna saw that her bag hadn't been deposited in her room. She wondered why. Suddenly she felt a wave of homesickness and she sat on the surprisingly soft bed. She held her head in her hands and tried to think only of how strange and exciting this place was to her. Did they have a library here? Marna hoped there were hundreds of books to read.

The warm bath beckoned her, and so she began to disrobe. She untied each of the fasteners on the front of her dress that her mother had crafted by sewing two dresses together. It was the only way to make clothes to fit Marna now. She pulled the dress down over her shoulders and past her enormous breasts. The dress fell, exposing Marna's unnaturally bountiful curvature. Her waist tapered drastically; no bigger around than one of her plump thighs. Her breasts were in terrible disproportion to the rest of her body, each heavy fleshy orb hung halfway down her abdomen. She had developed these features in a remarkably short period of months, and caused her parents to suspect some evil had befallen her. 

Marna, now completely naked, stepped into her bath. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes watched her from an insidious hole behind a large ornate wooden panel on one wall. The eyes watched as Marna bathed; as she stood from the bath, as her unearthly body dripped with hot water, as she lathered her voluminous breasts with a cake of soap and then as she submerged herself again. Marna lifted a long, ivory colored leg from the bath and caressed it with her delicate hands. Her breasts squeezed between her arms and crowded her in the small tub. She stood again, showing the curvature of her legs up to her waist. The swell of her hips, her beautiful, curving rear; all dripping with soap and water. Marna was a vision of sexual magnetism. 

Marna liked a long bath, and the watching eyes relished each and every moment of it. 

Marna curled up in her new bed and blew out the last candle. It was so quiet in her room that she could hear her own heart beat. There was a faint scratching sound, then silence once again. A door closed somewhere. It was quiet, but the old place had its share of nightly noises. Eventually, after a long silence, Marna was able to plummet into a deep sleep.

As days turned into weeks in the ancient cloister, Marna came to know each sister by name. There was a garden for her to work in, a few horses to tend to but the small selection of books was disappointing. Every day Marna had a schedule, but she still had plenty of free time. She was allowed to wander the woods with an accompanying sister or two, and was encouraged to try her hand at any task that piqued her curiosity.

"Nunneries are not known for their libraries," Sister Ursula informed Marna, one evening. "We're lucky enough to have the books we have."

Sister Mira looked up at them as Ursula spoke. Mira looked as if something had crossed her mind, but she went back to her knitting.

Later, after the evening meal, Sister Mira took Marna aside out in the garden.

"Marna, my dear," Mira said quietly "What Sister Ursula said about the monastery library is not entirely true. I have been all over this old place, and have a few secrets of my own. If it's books you want, meet me in the garden tonight after midnight."

Sister Mira hurried away, as if she did not wish to be seen talking to Marna. 

That night, Marna snuck out of her room. She made it up the stairs and through the common room unseen. She wondered what would happen if she had been seen, but was sure it would not come to anything serious such as punishment. Out in the garden, she waited in the moonlight by a small crumbling statue. A dark figure stole silently from the shadows. Marna heard a hiss and saw a hand beckoning her from out of the darkness. She followed.

"Come with me." Sister Mira's voice whispered sharply.

They walked to the other side of the cloister and up a small staircase that stood outside of the wall. At the top, Mira opened a door and they went inside.

"Up, down, up!" Mira cackled softly. "It is a strange place, this old cloister."

Marna followed as they made their way through a series of disused rooms. Then it was down two flights of stone steps, through an old undercroft that echoed while they passed through. Marna could hear only her own footsteps, not those of the old woman that was guiding her. Marna could also hear dripping water somewhere, but that was all. They came to a spot along the wall where two columns nearly hid a small flight of stairs. 

"Up here." Mira took to the stairs quickly. Marna followed.

When they reached the top, Marna could smell dust. A flame leapt up in the darkness as Sister Mira lit a candle. The small light was a huge difference, and the entirety of the small room was visible. Every wall was lined with shelves, each one laden with books of all sizes and states of disrepair.




Alraune Mandragora Ch. 03



"Your books, my lady."

Marna turned around and around, mouth standing open in awe of the secret library. She pictured the route they had taken to get there, and realized that the library must lay inside the base of the crumbling northern tower. She had been told on one of her many tours of the grounds that the tower had been declared unsafe, and was only used to store grain when there was a surplus. 

"I'm not even sure if the priests know of this room." Mira continued, "The books are all hundreds of years old. If you read them, you must do so with great care. Mend what you can, child. You will be doing God's work."

"I will." Marna promised, still awestruck by the amount of books in the room. There was even a small alcove with even more books off to one side. A mouse sat atop one pile of books, and did not seem afraid of the intruders and their candle.

"Now I must go back. Here," Mira lit a second candle with the first and handed it to Marna. "Think you can find your way back?"

"I'm sure I can. Thank you, Sister Mira." Marna put a hand on the woman's shoulder.

Sister Mira paused there for a moment. "Just don't get caught with any of these, or they will probably be taken away from here." She walked down the stairs and blew out her candle, stealing through the night once again.

Marna found a place to sit, dripped some melting wax into a crevice in the stones to create a candle holder and chose a book at random. She had found her new reading spot. The room would need a little cleaning, since the years had not kept it in order, but it was mysterious and wonderful and Marna loved it almost immediately.

A few days past and Marna found that making nightly trips to the forgotten library were more than manageable. She simply needed to remember to pocket a candle or two when she had the chance. Marna soon found that she could not read all of the books in the library, since many were written in a different language. Still, each one held a unique fascination for Marna, and she treated all of the books with great care. 

Marna found that some of the books appeared to be cleaner than the others, less dusty. She wondered if these had been read recently. She placed the suspicious books on their own shelf and decided to investigate them later.

After a week Marna had the library cleaned up. She even snuck in a broom to banish all of the cobwebs. On the eighth night, Marna sat in the quiet of her new sanctuary, reading by candlelight. She read of a man who believed he was a Knight, riding through the land to help those in need. It was written in a strange style of old, which made the book somehow more intriguing to Marna.

There, in quiet solitude, something moved inside her. Suddenly she knew only her need to go deeper underground. She jumped up from her seat and fled the room, running down the dark stairs. Down in the undercroft, Marna stumbled across the crumbling brick floor until she came to a pile of rubble in the far corner. Her hands searched the crumbling debris, and found a stairway that led down deeper still. It had long since been filled in by rubble and dirt. Marna positioned herself over the recessed ruin of the ancient stairway, hiked up her robes and began to scream.

After several minutes of near constant wailing, a mass of pearlescent offal lay at her feet. In the near perfect darkness of the undercroft, the substance seemed to emit a soft glow. In the slick, slimy excretion that Marna had deposited, she thought for a moment she could see something move. It was a twisting, shifting mass of color in the darkness. The more Marna stared into it, the harder it was to see. She began to back away.

Marna stumbled back towards the dim light that poured down the stairway to her library. She mounted the stairs ponderously, wincing and clutching herself in pain every few steps. Once she had reached the library, she took up the lit candle there and turned to go. She now needed only to sleep, all other thoughts were cast from her mind. Marna made her way out of the ancient ruin, across the garden and back through the common area. Once she had made it down into her room, she pitched herself onto the bed and fell instantly into an endless abyss of slumber.

And dreams.

Marna dreamt that she was back home; back in her cave. At first Marna felt that her journey to the monastery and the time she had spent there was just a dream. She shook her head, and suddenly her secret hollow was lit by a golden light that seemed to come from nowhere. The leaves that carpeted the ground of the cave began to float about, as if a slow whirlwind had started inside the cave. Marna was completely taken by this vision that was startling and yet comforted her by feeling totally safe and familiar.

A man in military uniform appeared, as if Marna had awoken again to find him standing there. The man smiled a warm, knowing smile at her. He was the handsomest man Marna had ever seen. He spoke to her in a deep, soothing voice.

"My dear, you have done great things." his voice boomed. "You have carried our seed and given us new life."

Marna felt her cheeks redden at the veneration. She felt nothing but joy.

"But now we must ask you to continue serving us. Our new home will need protection. Please see that nothing harms the seedling. It must grow and be healthy, so that others like you can serve us and be happy."

The man turned to go. Marna's heart leapt into her throat and she began to protest his sudden departure.

"Please, don't go! Don't go my love!" Marna pleaded at the fading vision.

"What would you have us do?" The man spoke without turning to face her again.

"Please," Marna was nearly in tears. "I need you to love me."

"Love?" The man voice asked, simply.

"I need you to..." As the vision faded further, Marna knew at last what it was that she needed. Her mind became clear. "I need you to feed me, like before."

Now even the cave was growing dark. The man had disappeared, but the leaves were still twirling in the deepening shadow.

"Protect our new home, and you will have what you wish." The voice was very distant now. "Our life depends on you. Rest now, love."

Marna knew nothing more. Indeed, she did rest. She did not wake until late into the day, and when she did she was looking up at the face of sister Margaret.

"The reader awakens!" Margaret declared joyfully.

Marna stirred, and stretched. Her head was pounding and she felt a chill.

"Did I sleep too long?" Mara asked, knowing full well that she had.

"You could say that. I would say that you haven't slept long enough." Margaret assured her. "You will need more rest. You had a fever, but it seems to be broken now. Drink this."

Margaret offered Marna an earthen cup of water. Marna propped herself up as well as she could and guzzled the water thirstily.

"Thank you, Sister Margaret." Marna smiled and lay down again.

"I'm only happy that you are still with us. I will tell the sisters, as your condition has had everyone worried." Margaret returned the cup to the chair and refilled it from a pitcher. "You should rest again. We will come and rouse you when it is time for dinner."

Marna closed her eyes to do as she was told. She could hear Sister Margaret leave the room, hear the door creak softly as it was pulled partially closed. Marna opened her eyes ever so slightly. The room was dimly lit, and the hallway much darker, but through her nearly closed eyelids Marna only just saw the shape of Sister Margaret watching her from beyond the door. Marna did not see Sister Margaret's silhouette move before falling asleep.

When Marna was called awake for suppertime, she remembered the dream she had had with the man in uniform. She remembered all he had said to her. Sitting up on her bed, Marna almost swooned. Revelation was unfolding as if before her very eyes.

"Are you still feeling ill, Marna?" Sister Ursula asked, noticing Marna's hesitation.

"No, sister." Marna assured her. "In fact, I feel very well. I will be up in a moment, thank you."

Sister Ursula left Marna alone. Marna's head swam. She gripped the edges of the bed. She felt weak. She drank a little water, which helped enliven her a bit. She was terribly hungry. The hunger is what gave her the power to rise and join the sisters for dinner. A chorus of happy greetings met her as she entered the hall that was used for dining. She smiled and sat, and ate all that was put before her.

A week later, Marna's parents came to see her. They greeted with warm hugs and kisses out in the stableyard. A few of the sisters came to meet Marna's parents, but they left the family alone after a while. Dirk and Hilda spent the day with their daughter, and were allowed to stay the night in one of the rooms in the ancient cloister. The next morning, Marna's parents hitched up and left early, after leaving Marna with the gifts they had brought. Marna waved from the gate as the two of them rode away.

"Well," Dirk said cheerfully to Hilda, "Marna does not seem to be getting any worse. I'd say this has been very good for her."

"Yes." Hilda agreed. "She is closer to the Lord. I only hope she doesn't change too much."

Summer wind tossed back Marna's hood as she watched her parents ride away. Her hair streamed out behind her in a beautiful cascade of white gold. Sister Margaret watched from one of the archways along the cloister wall.

"Tonight." Sister Margaret said quietly to herself. "Tonight we share secrets, my beautiful Marna."



Alraune Mandragora Ch. 04



 I'd like to thank the readers who waited patiently for this chapter. Your encouraging words are much appreciated.

*****

As daylight faded, rain clouds were gathering. Marna peered through the warped glass of one of the ancient cloister's many windows as the deep dark clouds rolled in. These clouds usually brought thunder. She hoped that her mother and father, who were riding back to the family farm to the south, wouldn't be caught out in poor weather. Even so, Marna liked summer storms.

Marna knit by the window in peace. One of the nuns, Sister Ursula, sat across the wide hall mending a robe sent up from the priory down the hill. The Culrose Monastery was actually made up of two cloisters. The priests and monks dwelt in the more recent cloister and church down the hill, and the sisters kept the old cloister higher up past the treeline. No one who passed the church would know of the old cloister, hidden in the pines. It was a safe place, and Marna always felt comfortable there.

The sisters kept the ancient place from becoming a ruin. It was a holy place; as long as it remained standing it would be a home for these women. Marna had lived among them for over a month, but she had yet to talk to all of the sisters at length. A few of them seemed very shy indeed. Sister Margaret, the abbess of the small nunnery, was always friendly but reluctant to engage Marna in any lengthy conversation. Marna's curiosity regarding Sister Margaret grew as this distant treatment continued. During the rare glimpses of eye contact Marna received from Sister Margaret, it seemed that something was in the air. Something was left unsaid.

Marna thought about all of this while she continued knitting. Eventually she tired of the tedious activity and rose from her window seat. She would need to get some sleep before conducting her nightly trip to the secret library. She feigned a yawn and a stretch.

"Good night and God bless, Sister Ursula." Marna said before leaving. 

"And you," Ursula replied, "God bless and rest well."

Marna retreated downstairs to the quiet sanctum of her room. It was comfortable enough down in the cellar, but often more than a bit cold. Marna felt relief as she found a bath had been drawn for her in the stone tub sunk into one wall. Steam rose from the hot water, waiting to warm Marna's body. Marna closed the door to her room and removed her robe. She shivered as goosebumps rose all across her flesh. She stepped into the tub, relishing the feeling of her cold skin meeting the hot water. Submerging her obscenely voluptuous body into the water, Marna let out a hefty sigh of pleasure.

Marna had, before coming to the abbey, gained unnatural amounts of weight in mere months. As usual, The Devil had been blamed for this aberration of the flesh. Nothing holy could come of a girl with a body that would make grown men go mad with lust at the sight of her. Marna hadn't merely filled out, she had become an unearthly pillar of sexual magnetism. Her breasts stood out like two massive orbs, just waiting to be tapped by hungry mouths. Her hips and buttocks were plump and wrapped in the tight white silk of her flesh. All this rested on Marna's still-slender frame, giving her proportions that were simply uncanny. Marna's own mother had balked at the covetable nature of her daughter's newfound curvature. 

Marna was about to pour another ladleful of water over her shoulders, when she felt eyes behind her. She spun around in her tub to find her room empty. Still, the fact that she wasn't alone was clear to her somehow. She crouched down into the tub as if to hide her nakedness from the empty room. Marna continued to scan her room with wide eyes for several minutes, certain that she was being watched. She relaxed in a sitting position in the tub and continued her bath slowly, warily. The unseen presence would not leave her.

Marna decided that if some spectre haunted her during her bath time, there was nothing she could do about it. She stood and let the water drip from her body, and the feeling that she was not alone only intensified. She felt her cheeks blush in her timidness and could not help but turn her body away from the room. Marna caught herself doing this and giggled. Her flesh bounced deliciously as she laughed, as if her body were one great bubble just waiting to pop. 

Eventually Marna decided that her mind was playing tricks on her and finished her bath. She dried herself and brushed her long golden hair while sitting naked on her bed. She found her flour sack under her pillow and checked it to see if it contained enough candles to last a few hours. One great big tallow remained. She examined it and decided that it was good for at least four hours. That would have to be enough for tonight, Marna decided.

She pulled her robes about her body and wrapped them tightly closed. A few of the sisters had fashioned some special robes for her, and she could not help but notice how they hid the contours of her body very well. Marna teased herself that she looked like a fat old nun when she wore the robes; but they were very comfortable and warm. 

Marna had become accustomed to the stairs and hallways within the old cloister and was able to make her way through them silently. She was also familiar with all the usual noises that the place made while it was sleeping, and so was not surprised by any of them. Sometimes she wondered what a few of the noises were, but she decided that since they all happened almost nightly, the noises must be perfectly harmless.

Tonight, there was the added rumble of distant thunder. Marna managed to close the hallway door silently as she made her way out into the middle of the cloister and across the gardens. A sparse rain was falling, but Marna knew that it could turn into a great summer shower at a moments notice. She hurried through the garden quietly to the other wall. Once inside, she began her twisting, turning route that snaked through a decrepit part of the cloister and into the northern tower. Once within the shelter of a stairway, Marna pulled the cover off of her lantern and let the candle within light her way. This was the way she came to the secret library every night.

Down in the undercroft, Marna was nearly there. A stairway that lay cleverly tucked between two pillars led upward again. This was the only way in or out of the room that had become a storage for some of the oldest books Marna would ever see. She set her lantern down on a small pedestal and pulled her hood back. It was always so comforting to her to be there, alone in the bowels of that old place. To Marna's knowledge, Sister Mira was the only other person who knew of this forgotten library. Since showing Marna the way just over a week before, Marna hadn't heard Sister Mira utter a word about the place. It seemed that it was Marna's home away from home for the time being.

Above her and far away, thunder sounded across the valley. Down in the stone walled library it sounded even more ominous to Marna. She shivered. Then a sound met her ears that made her shiver more violently. Someone was walking through the undercroft below. 

The footsteps rang out loudly and echoed off of the ancient limestone arches. Whoever was coming made no effort to do it quietly. Marna backed away from the blackness of the doorway and watched as the glow of another candle lit the walls of the passage outside. The flame came into view as the bearer mounted the steps. Shadows were thrown here and there, but ultimately the light from the large candle revealed that it was carried by none other than Sister Margaret herself. She entered the small library and stood just inside the arched doorway.

"Good evening, My dear." Sister Margaret said with warmth that surprised Marna as much as soothed her. "Please, don't stand on my account. Sit, child."

Marna found a seat on one of the squat stone benches that rose from the floor and folded her hands in her lap. The room was lit quite well now by both her candle lantern and the large beeswax altar candle that Sister Margaret bore. Even so, the Abbess took to producing more candles from the folds of her robes and setting them in small sconces on the wall. These she lit until four more lights bathed the books and Marna's anxious expression alike in warm, golden candlelight.

"Quite a night, isn't it?" Margaret asked, placing the candle she had been holding in an iron candlestick that lived in one corner.

Marna didn't know how to reply. "Y-yes... I like thunder." Marna stammered.

Sister Margaret put her hands behind her back and began to walk slowly through the room, admiring the books. "I hope you like our library. I don't think Sister Mira has told anyone else about it. It's just as well; word travels, even in and out of convents. If any of the priests heard about this collection, it would probably be confiscated."

"But we are hardly a convent," Sister Margaret continued, turning back towards Marna, "as you may well have gathered by now."

Marna gave a thoughtful look up and away from Sister Margaret and then chirped a reply. "No, I hadn't noticed anything like that."

"Well, it's true." Sister Margaret resumed her slow pacing, looking down at the plain tiles on the floor. "We may look a proper convent, but actually this gathering of sisters represents a bit of an afterthought. We are all of us outcasts of a sort, sent here from other churches who felt we needed to be reassigned." Margaret tsked at this, and continued. "Still, we function as a nunnery should, and save this old place from desolation, even if it is to be desolation for us."

"Ah, but I know you appreciate the solitude offered here." Sister Margaret's voice resumed its calming tone. "And I think your presence has made us all a bit more cheerful. It's nice having some young blood among us." She looked down at Marna suddenly, appraisingly.

Marna swallowed as quietly as she could.

"But now I think it is time for questions, Marna." Margaret mercifully resumed her circuit of the room, looking away from Marna's troubled face. "When we were made aware of your condition by the will of your mother and father, they insisted that you were pitched into some sort of trouble. Apparently you had been beset upon by some fiendish plot and were suffering physically as a result. Is this true?"

Marna looked about the room as if for an answer. "I suspect that my condition was because of my appetite, Sister Margaret."

Sister Margaret laughed softly at this, and not in a chiding way. "Marna, my dear, I'm afraid that I cannot believe it possible. No, there is truth behind that hunted look of yours. There is a story I should like to hear. Maybe it would be good of me to offer up a story of my own first, if you would listen."

"Of course, Sister Margaret." Marna was relieved by this idea.

"Well then." Margaret cleared her throat with a slight cough and began. "When I was around your age, I lived in a village not far from yours called Bethnel. Do you know it?"

Marna nodded.

"Ah," Margaret continued. "Well when I was a young girl all those years ago, I suffered a terrible tragedy when my mother and father were burnt to death in our family home. I escaped and was cared for at hospital until I was adopted by our village minister and his wife. I lived happily, except for the burden of the minister's wife. She disliked me from the start, as she stood with those in the village who believed that it was I who set fire to my family home. Some called me the devil's child, some called me worse than that. This pressure became so much so that my life ceased to be happy and I found myself under a constant discouragement at my lot."

"So it is with outcasts, I began to live up to the slander that was cast against me. Any chance to get away from the village was fine in my eyes; and so I spent a lot of my time in the fields and beyond. The forests became my friends. As far as the village was concerned the fact that I spent so much time out and about only served to prove my wickedness. Well, I did find happiness in the forest."

Sister Margaret sat down on the stone bench opposite Marna. From there she continued to pause, looking at Marna's face. Marna looked back at Sister Margaret warily. The older woman continued her story, confident in her captive audience.

"Then one day, out in the forest, I met a man quite mad." Sister Margaret's voice dropped in volume a bit, softened slightly at this dramatic turn in her story. "He was as handsome as he was mad, which made his presence even more bizarre to me then. After trying to make sense of him and his advances towards me, I fled. He did not chase me, not then. The next day I left home and sought him out, traveling many miles to the same place he had been. There in the same grove of tree and vine he had been the day before stood the handsome, mad man. I didn't know why I was drawn to that place again, but I certainly was."

Sister Margaret bowed her head slightly, as if remembering untold parts of her story. "At some length, after I had been returning to him every day for many weeks, a mob met me on my return to the village. It was believed by all concerned that my change in appearance was due to dealings with the dark one himself. Indeed, my body had changed in a way most bizarre. I had not given my change any consideration. I felt quite oblivious to much of what was happening those days."

"Well, the minister would not accept me, and he was the most sympathetic of them all. I was put out on the street. The women of the village rallied and chased me past the fields and away. They threatened to burn me as a witch, a harlot of hell. I escaped easily and made my way back to my man of the forest."

"He was there, of course. The two of us would hold congress there in the grove; sometimes I think it would go for days but I can't be sure." Sister Margaret's voice took on a shade of regret. "I can't be sure of any of it. Soon the village had formed a mob once more, and they hunted me down with dogs. They found my grove, and when they did they held me fast and began to set the forest to blaze. I collapsed in my excitement and lost consciousness. I still have not the slightest idea what transpired afterwards, but I awoke days later in a boarding house, many miles from my home village, as if it had all been some bizarre dream. I had been abandoned, and as soon as I was able I was sent to a convent and began my life, more or less, as you see it now."

Sister Margaret looked into Marna's eyes. Marna felt obliged to give some word of condolence.

"That is awful. I hope it does not haunt you terribly." Marna responded.

"Oh, I do not hold grudges to the superstitious nature of my neighbors back at Bethnel. I know how worried I must have made them. But..." Sister Margaret looked away from Marna's face then, "I have waited so long, and I never hoped to find anything that would set me at ease. Now you come to us, Marna, and I can't help but beg you to tell me what you know. Have we... a connection?"

Marna suddenly felt a wave of pity for the woman before her. "I know not. I have not known your suffering. My story is... different."

Sister Margaret stood and began to pace again. "Well, my story does have a bit more, where our similarities may be concerned. You see, I have been attempting an investigation for many years. I have gone against the church on many separate occasions, entering libraries and stores of books in secret. In my travels I have come across many an interesting document. But of all the reading that interested me, the book that gives me the most hope lies there, on the shelf that you so neatly put to order."

Sister Margaret pointed towards the books that Marna had gathered on one shelf. They were the ones that looked as if they had been read recently. Sister Margaret strode to the shelf and pulled a tattered old book that had been bound using blackened leather. She opened the book and thrust it into Marna's hands.

"See there," Sister Margaret said, "A discovery of another age, when men of the cloth were explorers in an extensive fashion. It seems that there dwelt in forests far to the east a demon that fed upon men. The demon was known to the people of that region as Mandragora."

Sister Margaret allowed Marna to pour over the pages. There was an image rendered in ink that was to portray the creature which had several names, or so it seemed. Marna could not read the text as it was in a language foreign to her. The likeness depicted on the page was what struck Marna to her very core. It would have been a strange image indeed, if it had not seemed so familiar to Marna. She said nothing as Sister Margaret continued.

"Apparently they thought it was some sort of mandrake root. I am sure you know well the harmless and simple nature of this vegetation, the mandrake." Sister Margaret continued in earnest. "The book goes on to explain that the demon would take the body of a woman and beguile men into its clutches. You may have heard of similar legends from elsewhere."

Marna turned the page to find a different image staring back at her, one of a man wrapped up in the clutches of a terrible plant. The vines were wrapped about his feet and the ground was red with blood..

"Alraune is the name it was given in another age, by a different people. Still, the account of both are similar. The demon Mandragora seems to run rampant. What neither of the stories provide is any information regarding the people involved; whether they lived or died. " Sister margaret's head bowed.

Marna closed the book and set it aside. "Have you found anything else?" She inquired.

"The book, as with some of these others, is full of accounts regarding various terrors. You can see for yourself. I have no reason not to believe that all of it is true, now that I have seen several of the things spoken of only in whispered legend. I have traveled to many dark places to conduct searches; all in vain. It wasn't until I heard of you, Marna, a girl who was growing unnaturally before the grace of god, that I found hope again."

She sat down next to Marna and folded her hands in her lap. "When I first saw you, I felt something. It was as if I was being spoken to by the voice of my long lost mother. Something was calling to me. I can only assume it was you."

Marna looked into Sister Margaret's eyes. In the light of the candles they shown clear and brilliant. "Marna." Margaret pleaded. "Please tell me."

Marna looked into the distance, as if she was hearing a distant bell. "You have been missed, Sister Margaret. We share the same secret."

Sister Margaret shed a single tear then.

"Did you... change? As I have?" Marna asked. "I still know very little, although I feel my mind has been opened like the breaking of a dam." Marna reached up to wipe the tear from Sister Margaret's face as she said this. Sister Margaret closed her eyes as she was touched, as if it pained her.

"I was transformed, yes." Margaret disclosed, "Yet perhaps not as you have been."

"Show me." Marna instructed simply.

As if bid to disrobe by the voice of god himself, Sister Margaret stood and unfastened her raiment. After a few deft movements, her head covering came off, and a shower of silver hair fell about her shoulders. This simple transformation impressed Marna greatly.

"Sister Margaret," said Marna, awestruck, "you are beautiful!."

Sister Margaret unfastened and opened the robes that had hid her body from the eyes of all others for over twenty years. Her skin was like white marble in the candlelight. Her body was highly muscled, almost beyond femininity. Not at all the body of a woman her age. Sister Margaret was blessed with an impossible magnificence of physique. The robes fell and the golden light struck her body from all sides, accenting the strong and graceful contours.




Alraune Mandragora Ch. 04



Marna's hand rose to her open mouth. She gasped a tiny gasp as her eyes feasted on the woman's body.

Sister Margaret blushed and turned away, only to expose the grace of her exquisite haunches to the girl. "You must forgive me, I haven't stood naked willingly in the presence of another for some time."

Marna stood and wrapped her arms around the naked woman from behind. Margaret seemed to jump slightly at the sudden touch, but did not protest. Marna just hugged her. After a few moments, Marna spoke.

"I can't imagine how it has been for you. I only know that I miss my lover very much, and it must be so much worse for you." Marna released the woman. "Now sit, and I will tell you my secret. Our secret."

Margaret sat on the stone bench and gathered her robes loosely about herself. Her eyes peered up at Marna like blue ebony in the golden candlelight. 

"Our lover, and I know that they must be one and the same, comes from somewhere beyond the sky." Marna began to pace as Margaret had, her hands clasped behind her back. She loved stories, and relished the opportunity to tell one.

"The stars, as it happens, are distant relatives of the sun. Very distant. Our lover comes from one of those distant suns. Our lover is a very ancient form of life. No god or demon or trickster from a gnome story; our lover was exiled to this world we live in like a sailor caught adrift on an island far away from any familiar shores."

Marna looked back at Margaret, who was captivated absolutely. Marna continued.

"I can't explain it very well, but the creatures we encountered were different - but the same. It seems that it changes when it can, or when the need arises. It can survive when little else will. It needs a hidden place to thrive, a secret place to grow. It can feed on many things, such as we. But unlike us, it does not feed on what we can smell or taste or touch. Our lover feeds on things like love... and pain... and death. It can survive on things we sense as our own feelings. Among other things."

Margaret had stopped breathing. Marna could hear a drop of water somewhere off in the undercroft. 

"These things are hard to understand, I know." Marna bowed her head. "But it is as I have said. And I know you believe, but you must also believe that though my mind is full of images and strange things, I can not yet grasp what they mean."

Their eyes met. Margaret simply nodded. Her mind was full of questions, but also understanding.

"Come." Marna bid her. "I have something to show you."

Marna took up one of the candles and began descending the stairway. She heard Margaret following her swiftly. When they were walking the uneven paving stones below, Margaret reached out and took Marna's hand for guidance. When they reached the far corner near the collapsed stairwell, Marna lowered the candle to show what grew in the pile of rubble.

It was a single flower. It was very dark, but Margaret could see that it grew thick and very deep, dark red in color. It stood not two feet tall in the cold and dank blackness. 

"Oh..!" Margaret exclaimed. "Is... is it..." She could not find the words.

"Yes." Marna assured her. "And it grows even now. But you will not see it grow, for it grows downward. Eventually its roots will have gone deep enough, and we will find shelter among them. We will find warmth, and love."

Margaret shed a single tear. It fell and splashed into the thin dust that carpeted the stone floor. "It's beautiful." Was all she said. She turned and looked at Marna, who continued to admire the flower as she spoke.

"We can return to my family's farm, Margaret. We can visit there, and when we are finished and my parents are satisfied with our visit I can take you to my hidden place. And there, dear Margaret..." Marna paused. She looked up at the woman, with a smile. "There you will have what you seek."

Marna knelt down before the flower and set her candle aside so that it stood on its own. "Come. Kneel by the flower, and we shall feed him."

Margaret did as she was asked. "How... do we feed... him?" Margaret stammered. 

Marna turned and faced the woman. She bent forward and kissed her on the cheek. Her breath caressed the woman's face as she spoke. She smelled like heaven. "My body is the key. You must love me, and your deprivation will end. This is all I know."

Marna stood. She unfolded her robes and let them fall, one by one. The layers of cloth that hid her body fell away, and soon she stood naked before the kneeling woman. Marna returned to her knees, and stayed there in silence, waiting for the woman to feast upon her body.

"Thank you, Marna." Margaret said plainly. "You have saved me from darkness and pain."

"Enough now." Marna consoled her. She reached up and proffered her unearthly breasts to the woman. "Our pleasure will help the flower grow. Taste me, I can satisfy your longing. For now, at least."

Margaret let her own robes fall. She moved in, and closed her eyes before her lips clasped around one of Marna's ready nipples. As soon as Margaret's tongue touched the flesh of the girl, something passed between them. Something awoke in Sister Margaret's mind. Like a beloved memory.

"Oh..." Marna had never been touched by another person in this way. "Oh goodness." She said, as if responding to a dream. Margaret began to suck gently. "Oh my!" Marna yelped, turning her head and squinting against the sudden wave of unknown pleasure.

She had, after all, never known such pleasure while completely conscious. Before long, Margaret had embraced the girl fully, holding her up slightly. Marna was shocked by the strength of the older woman. Margaret buried her face in the flesh of Marna's bosom, and she sucked with her whole mouth. Margaret's head bobbed back and forth, and it was as if her entire body was trying to pull at the contents of Marna's breast. Suddenly Margaret made a strange, hungry sound. The nectar had begun to flow into her mouth, feeding her at long last.

"That's it!" Marna laughed. "Yes! The flower is opening, Margaret! Your hunger is making it bloom!"

But Margaret hardly heard the girl's praises. Margaret was consumed by her awakening. Consumed by her hunger for the long lost sweetness of surrender. 

Marna's hands grasped and pulled at the woman's body. She twisted and writhed with unexpected pleasure as the woman sucked neckar from her breasts. Soon they lay down, Marna on her back and Margaret feeding atop her. Margaret was crouched over her on all fours, holding Marna down strongly. All Marna could do was lay there and react to each pulse of electric pleasure that shot from the woman's lips through her breasts and down her spine. This coupling continued in the darkness for some time. Marna looked up to see the dark flower in full bloom right before she felt all the sensations in her body climaxing. Marna began to scream with pleasure.

Up the stairs and through the ancient structure, her screams would never be heard by anyone over the din of the storm. 

Sister Margaret smelled more sweet seduction in the darkness, and she sought the source. She moved down the young girl's sumptuous curves and plunged her tongue into the weeping darkness between Marna's legs. That was all Marna could take, and her screams reached a fever pitch. The woman had buried her tongue deep within the girl's sex, swallowing every drop of sweetness that flowed from within. Marna could only toss her head from side to side and grip the crumpled mass of her robes for some sort of link to the waking world. Otherwise, her mind was gone from her body almost completely. Her mind was reaching out for her lover in the dark.

In the dark, lit only by the solitary candle, the flower basked in the radiance of the two women. Below them, roots were forming slowly. Reaching blindly into the soil, conquering stone, making way for a new life to emerge; a consciousness to be born.



Alraune Mandragora



Then, the orgasm fading from her, she felt as if her body was floating back to the ground. The dark world she found herself in spun around her. Peace came over her, and she slept for hours before waking again.

When she awoke, the cave was filled with the smoke from the candle finally burning out. She sat up. How had she come to be in the middle of the floor? She must have been sleepwalking, she supposed. She was naked, her dress having been flung aside a few feet away. Her body was moist, sticky, as if she had been sweating profusely. She decided that she'd had a nightmare after falling asleep in the cave. She dressed, fetched up the candle and her book and made for the world above.

Once out among the fresh air and trees, Marna turned to go. Something held her there though, near the hole to her new favorite reading spot. Should she cover the hole? What if someone else found the cave and had it dug out? Some would probably see it as a danger, or a home for pests. Marna found some tree limbs and placed them over the hole. She then put a few armloads of leaves over the lattice of sticks. "There." She declared aloud. "No one will invade my special hole!"

Quite satisfied, Marna made her way home. As she walked, she wondered why she wasn't in the least bit hungry, even though she'd barely had anything for breakfast and had slept right through lunch. Oh well, dinner was a few hours away, she would be hungry by then.

Later, bathing in the big clawfoot tub, Marna read her new book. She couldn't find where she left off before falling asleep earlier, so she just started at chapter one. One of the character descriptions reminded her of the sweet ice salesman who had been in her dreams since she saw him. She dropped the book to the floor as deja vu struck her. She stood suddenly from the tub, her fair skin turned bright pink by the hot water. Turning towards the lace curtained window, she ripped the curtain aside. Staring out into the darkness beyond the glass, in the direction she knew the forest lay. It was as if someone had called to her. All she saw was blackness and her own distorted reflection. In the old warped glass she looked like some kind of monster standing there in the tub. She dropped the curtain and sank back below the bubbles, feeling silly for standing in the window like that.

The next day she slept in again, and her parents laughed at her foggy-headed disposition at breakfast that morning. She'd missed her pre-breakfast chores, but they understood. She was a growing girl, and needed her beauty sleep.

Marna poured a cup of coffee, which now looked to be a habit for the girl. "You're gonna stunt your growth with that stuff, little lady." Her father teased.

But Marna grew.