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The forest entrance teems with life, but that’s what you’re afraid of: monster girls live here. They’re supposed to be friendly, but you don’t know the first thing about their culture. An unintended faux pas could trigger one into attacking. Truth be told, there’s probably nothing to worry about. The odds of running into—

A flash of white catches your eye, and as you turn to face it there’s a crash and a yelp.

A Doe Girl is laying splayed out on the ground, breathing heavily. As you approach, you can only see the general outline of her humanoid torso, because she appears to have taken a spill headlong into a tangled shrub, a shrub as tall as you are.

The Doe Girl’s lower half, slender and deer-like, has four legs that occasionally flail for traction. You stand out of kicking range. It must’ve been her tail you first noticed, white underside flashing in alarm as she fled.

She seems to alternate between scrambling in mortal terror and staying utterly, eerily still. She probably thinks you’re coming to eat her.

You decide you can not just leave her there, so you circle around her, safely out of kicking range. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you say, which is instantly met with even more violent wriggling and flailing. If she connects, the best case scenario would be a massive welt.

It takes a moment to discover an angle where you can brace yourself on the ground firmly and avoid the worst of her kicking. You grab around her waist, right near where her human torso blends into her deer half. She responds with some particularly violent jerking and grunting, but this time when you reassure her, she actually seems to listen, and goes still.

You pull and tug, and her torso starts emerging from the bush, but something — an arm? — feels stuck in there.

What looked from afar like one shrub turns out to be a tangle of at least three different plants, all twisted up in a bushy, viney knot. The dense branches obscured your view of what’s happening, but as you lean in, you find a rope-like vine snared around the shoulder and neck of a panting, wide-eyed, topless monster girl. She’s supermodel-slender.

With just inches separating your face from hers, you can feel her breath on your cheek. Her eyes are like giant pools.

You blink as you realize you’ve been holding your breath. “I’m gonna help get you out of here. I think I need to unloop this vine around your neck.”

She grunts without breaking her stare.

You trace the vine deeper into the bush, and discover a little slack as you lean against some different branches. Carefully, you tug the vine taut and feed the slack towards her head. Progress. A few moments later, you’re able to release her head, and then her arm. She’s free!

She takes her first step out of the bush, stumbles, and shakes her head to discover her bearings. For three quiet seconds, you look into each other’s eyes, then she gasps and runs away from you as fast as she can… right back into the bush.

You cringe. She looks delicate, but her movements are straight out of a slapstick routine.

She hesitates at first — those big glassy eyes are still full of fear — but after a moment she takes your hand, braces herself, and finds her footing. Again, she rips past you and bounds away.

Could she really have taken all that tumbling and struggling without any injury? “Wait,” you shout. “Are you ok?”

She halts a short distance away and looks back at you, poised to bolt.

“I know you can talk,” you say. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

This seems to make her hesitate. She turns ever so slightly, still pointed mostly away from you, but it seems like she’s thinking about whether or not to communicate something. Her arms pause in the air, mid-gesture.

She arrives upon some kind of decision, because she makes a grunt of frustration before trotting up to you. Three times you have to pry your eyes away from her breasts, which are so small and firm that they barely bounce as she approaches. As she draws near, you see freckles dappled all over her shoulders and upper torso.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. You notice she’s blushing furiously — when did that begin? Her eyes dart and her expression changes a few times. She seems to be searching for words.

“I fell when… Got scared. You snuck up and…” More searching. “You were nice to me. In the bush… I…” She squints hard. “I like your smell so much. Please. I need to…”

Her front hoof scratches the ground impatiently. You have a feeling things will get intimate quickly if you stick around.

“It’s all right, I can help. Come here.”

She approaches and drapes her arms around you, resting her head on your shoulder. A musky scent — coming from everywhere and nowhere. You’ve never smelled sweat like this: gravelly, earthy, deep, and so strong it bleeds over into your other senses, like mushrooms or a thick bassline.

She breathes in deep like she’s savoring your fragrance too, moaning on her exhale. “Why are you so good looking?”

Her tone is gentle and innocent, as though asking for sex were as natural as asking a friend for an orange.

Still, you figure it’s good to be safe. She is from a foreign culture, in a manner of speaking. “Is touch okay?” you ask. What a weird way to phrase that. You sound like her.

“Please! I want—” She nuzzles your neck, her breath coming in little pants.

This seems too good to be true. “You sure?”

Leaning away, she narrows her eyes, pauses, and gives you a serious nod. Seems like she’s sure.

When she puts her head back on your shoulder, you wrap your arms around her and rake your fingers through her wavy auburn hair. That’s when her whole body tenses up. You start to let go, but her arms tighten around you and you feel her whole body tremble. She leans into you, hard, almost toppling you over, and suddenly she’s grunting and gasping. Finally, she steps back and looks at you with dazed eyes, but as she regains focus, her musky scent floods your nostrils.

You ask, “Did you just…”

She smiles and nods.

“But I just touched your hair! I didn’t think that someone could…” You trail off as she nuzzles back into your arms again.

“I really like you,” she whispers into your chest.

“Is it normal for you to cum that easily?”

She shakes her head. “No, that was new.” She draws curlicues on your chest with her pointer finger.

Taking your hands, she pulls back and looks you in the eyes like she’s about to propose. “Again?”

“I don’t know,” you say with a smirk. “I’m still recovering from the first one.” You flex your fingers a couple of times and shake your wrist. “Why don’t you warm yourself up with a comb? I’ll catch up later.”

She cocks her head, not picking up on your sarcasm.

Ugh. Too subtle. You smile and nod. “Yes: again.”

“Yay!”

She grasps both of your forearms and gazes into you with those giant eyes. Her breath sharpens, and her jaw goes slack. What’s she doing?

“I’m so close,” she whispers. Soon, she’s grunting.

“Already? Wouldn’t you have more fun if I helped?”

By way of an answer, she rams your hands into her athletic tits. “Squeeze hard hard hard hard.” Her assertiveness makes your crotch throb. You clamp down on her little handfuls, sure that you must be hurting her, but her face turns crimson. “Hard hard hard,” she commands, and you white-knuckle her breasts.

There it is. That shudder. You watch the orgasm hit, and she only breaks eye contact because her eyelids flutter shut. Her whole body vibrates. For a solid 20 seconds, she holds her breath.

How can anyone’s body be on a hair trigger like this? Is this the female version of premature ejaculation? Or is she really just that aroused? Regardless, it’s leaving you rock hard.

“How do you make me cum like that?” she asks as soon as she catches her breath.

“This is all you. I’m not doing anything special.”

“Yes you are,” she says, and you realize that although she’s breathless from all the arousal, she seems to be able to speak in coherent sentences now. “Look.”

She turns her rear toward you.

Ooh. Deer pussy. You’re immediately hit by the musky scent. That’s what that smell was! It’s so different from a human’s. Does that mean she’s been aroused this whole time, even when she was stuck in the shrub?

Her vulva is surprisingly human-looking, the main difference being that her outer lips have a coat of fine, fluffy white hair. It looks like it would normally be quite soft, but right now the whole area is glossy with wetness, and a strand of grool dangles down from her matted hair.

She looks back over her shoulder at you, pleading. “Please? Please.”

You’re about to ask her what exactly she’s asking for, when she takes a step backwards, mashing her pussy into your hand. She’s warm and wet as her lips part under your fingers, and— Wow. The entrance to her hole is on fire. She pushes against you, grunting, and you barely have to adjust in order to slip a finger inside. She feels silky and smooth and squishy and—

“More more more more,” she says, panting. “More fingers. More hand.”

You oblige by adding a couple more fingers. They enter so easily.

“More,” she says, this time with frustration creeping into her voice.

Really? When you adjust to add your pinky, she leans back and all four fingers slide in, down to the last knuckle.

She squeals. “More. More!”

You think you could probably add your thumb, but, does she know how many fingers you’ve got in her already?

“Ungh. The stretching feels so good,” she says, rocking her rear on your fingers as she speaks. “More!”

Something tells you she wants more. You angle your thumb around. There’s some rubbery resistance at the mouth of her vagina, and you can feel a ring of muscle contracting in happy spasms, but she’s leaning into you, putting pressure on your hand to sink further, further, until — swoop — you slip past the resistance and sink wrist-deep into her pussy.

Again, that shudder. She briefly loses balance as she swoons, and her entire pussy begins contracting around your hand. Her entrance is squeezing so hard that it almost pinches. The rhythm pulls you deeper, deeper. She howls in delight, squirting and splashing a clear, runny liquid all over your forearm.

Your wet and slippery skin makes it so easy to push and pull, and soon you’re pistoning in and out of her, sinking so deep she’s swallowing half of your forearm, then pulling back until the base of your hand reaches the ring of muscle at her entrance.

You can not tell if she’s having back-to-back orgasms, or if she’s been riding one absurdly long one ever since your hand slipped inside. It’s thrilling either way. She’s incredibly responsive. Sometimes she screams; sometimes there’s another spurt of liquid from somewhere near her entrance. And her contractions are a strange and wonderful sensation of their own. One moment she’s kneading you, massage-like; the next, she’s clamping down furiously, keeping you fixed on a delicious spot somewhere inside of her.

You want to be a good lover, but your shoulder begins to tire, and you know you can not keep this up for much longer. “Sorry, but I need a break.”

She fires off an “Uh-huh” between heaving breaths, so you slowly withdraw your forearm. It gets a little tricky at the end as your wrist widens into your hand, but some smart scrunching and twisting allows you to get over the hump. She grunts as your hand comes clear. Sticky webs of her grool stretch between your fingers.

The two of you sink to the ground, resting against each other. After a moments silence, she says, “That’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You idly stroke the back of her deer-body with your clean hand. You can feel her rear haunches quivering with aftershocks. “You seem much more with it now.”

“Dammit! Where’s my basket?” She stands.

“Basket?”

“It was full of mushrooms for tonight’s meal. Shit, they’re going to kill me. I’ve got to go. But…” She glances at your crotch then shakes her head. “I want to fuck, but then we’d be here for hours. I’ve got to go.”

She grins. Even her teeth are beautiful. “Here, come here,” she says, and guides you to her side. She lifts her legs, and with a little twisting and scooching, rubs the backs of her knees on your pants.

“What are you doing?”

“Now your pants smell like me. Wear those into the woods next time you want to meet.”

“Neat.”

“Oh, and one more thing. Hold still.”

You do as she says, and she points her rear directly at you. She takes a few steps backward until her still-damp pussy presses into your torso. Then she dips her legs and makes humping motions, rubbing up against you. She giggles, but the end of the laugh turns into a moan and a shudder.

“Now you really smell like me. Think about me later!”

Unlike before, she darts off like a bullet.

The wet spot on your shirt cools, bringing you back to your senses. Your loins ache, unfulfilled. You’re tempted to rip one out right here, but… What if you run into another doe girl later? Best to save it until you get home.

You start winding your way back towards the path, wondering when you’ll see her again, wondering how to tempt her to your farm, when—

Huh. She never told you her name.

———————

Hello! I’m Bawdy Ink Slinger, and this is an excerpt from my text based game, [Monster Girl Farmer]( I hope you’ve enjoyed this scene! If you did, there’s lots more free content and monster girls to experience by clicking link. Dog girls, ant girls, cherry tree girls, mushroom girls, harpy girls, you name it.

Either way, I’d love to hear your feedback. Thanks for giving the scene a chance!

NSFW: yes

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