**Moonlit Harvest: Her Green Invitation**

As a man growing up I always heard stories of the green woman and my grandmother left me the farm nobody around just a bunch of empty fields and night the moon was bright and I heard something weird And i look out the window and seen this space ship landing in the field and I watched for awhile and didn't anything so I walked up to it and door started opening and I ran back into my house and then I saw four green woman walking towards my house and they had half human bodies and then I started wondering what would do with my body and I knew I a big cock

The old farmhouse creaked around him, the wood settling deep in the night like the land itself was holding its breath. He’d spent years listening to whispers—about the Green Woman who lived in the trees, the half-daughter of the forest who took men when they wandered too close. But the stories were just that. *Stories.* Then he saw it. Not a fucking ghost. Not a nightmare. The ship was real—sleek, metallic, its belly open to the dirt like a wound. The door hummed, low and deliberate, inches from the ground before his brain told him to move, his feet already hammering the porch. He yanked his door shut, locked the brass bolt that hadn’t worked in thirty years, and pressed his ear to the wood. Three heartbeat later, the dead bolt rattled like a promise he’d never kept. No time to freeze. No time to imagine. Just the press of damp, warm bodies against the outside of his door, fingers—*too many fingers*, too slick—curling against the grain where they met. "Unlock," one whispered, a voice like loam and honey, breath hot on his hand. Two others bracketed the first, their hips swaying as if already in rhythm, the split between skin and something green and glistening exposed like a second mouth. They smelled of wet moss and musk, thick enough to clog his throat. His cock pulsed once, twice, pressing wet against his jeans. He swallowed. "Who—or *what*—are you?" he croaked. The one on the left smirked, human teeth too white against the vine-and-leaf patterned flesh. "Open the door, farmer. We know *exactly* what you are."

The dead bolt groaned as he spun the key in its rusted teeth, fingers trembling not with fear but with the weight of what came next. The door swung inward before the force of four bodies could push it, and they spilled across the threshold—knees first, then hips, the green halves of them slick with dew or something thicker, something wrong. The floorboards groaned but didn’t splinter. Not yet. The first one dipped her shoulders, the human skin melting off in strips like wax beneath his gaze, revealing the thick, vein-laced wood beneath. He traced his fingers over the rough bark of her arm, the way it pulsed faintly when he pressed too hard. *"That’s what you are,"* she said again, tongue flicking against his knuckles. *"The thing in the old tales. The lucky one."* Her hands were warm, *too* warm, palms pressing into his chest as she tilted her head back, branches curling like fingers in his hair. He could smell resin and crushed leaves where his face met the hollow of her throat. His breath stuttered. The door slammed shut behind them. "Wait—how did you—" She laughed, the sound vibrating through his ribs, and bit down on his earlobe just enough to make him wince. The second one slid along the wall behind him, her fingers brushing his ass through the fabric before she murmured, *"Tell us what you’d do with all this."* He twisted, but her grip tightened—more like roots than hands—and her mouth was already there, teeth nipping at the zipper of his jeans before she tugged it down one slow-tooth. No hesitation. No warning. Just the press of her lips against the damp lace of his boxers, the way her breath hitched when she felt him hardening against the cotton. "You’re not human," he groaned. "Not anymore," the first one agreed, dragging her tongue over his shoulder in a slow, deliberate stripe. "But you will be. You’ll be ours." The third one circled his wrist, her fingers splitting open to reveal small, hungry buds where nails should’ve been. *"Choose which one of us gets this first."*

And i didn't answer so then three of them held me still and then the one started stripping my clothes off

The third one’s vine-fingers coiled around his throat—not squeezing, but *testing*, bark scraping against his pulse. He could feel her breath on his skin, something heavy and alive in the dark. The first one’s hands were already rough and calloused, dragging his shirt up with no attempt at tenderness. She didn’t ask. She *pulled*, the fabric tearing like parched earth at the seams. The second followed, her teeth worrying free the buttons of his jeans, her mouth still pressed against his hips, breath turning to hot, wet drags as she peeled the denim away. He was bare before he’d finished thinking *no*, his cock jerking free into the air, already slick at the tip from something that might’ve been spit or sap. The first one trailed her human fingers over his chest, then let them fall, pressing instead in the bark-sharp weight of her palms against his ribs. *"Good boy,"* she murmured, her voice deeper now, resonant in the quiet room. *"Now we get to play."* Her teeth sank into his collarbone, just short of breaking skin, and he shuddered—not from pain, but from the way the second one’s tongue flicked at his wrist, tracing the ink of his veins from root to pulse-point. His cock twitched again, aching, when the third pressed the rough hollow of her *mouth*—her second mouth, the one that breathed through bark—into the small of his back. *"Which of us first?"* the fourth echoed, her voice soft as wind through summer wheat, from the foot of his bed. He had no answer. No breath. The first one chuckled, her breath like crushed petals against his throat, then let her palm trail all the way down his torso. And when it settled on his cock, the weight of it made him groan. She squeezed—not gentle, not teasing. Like a fist made of roots, like a grip that knew *exactly* how hard to wrap around it before she pulled. "Tell us," she demanded again, her fingers digging into the muscle of his chest, *"which of us gets your *seed* first."*

The first one’s bark mouth split wider than it had any right to, her laughter rough and wild, but the second one’s lips pressed to his shoulder, her human voice a dark caress. *"Oh, it matters."* She tightened her grip, her vine-fingers threading into his skin like deep scars, and he gasped when the third one’s fangs grazed the back of his thigh—just enough to make him whimper. Her *other* mouth dragged along his spine, teeth scraping in slow, deliberate strokes. *"It always does,"* the fourth agreed from the foot of the bed, her fingers skating over his hipbone, tracing the lines of his muscles. *"But rules are rules. No one wants a queen who’s never been *chosen*."* The first one leaned in closer, the scent of sap and earth thick in the space between them. *"So choose. Or we’ll take turns until you don’t have a choice anymore."* Her tongue flicked against his chest, hot and *thick*, and he arched into her touch, his cock already swelling beneath their hands. *"Does it matter?"* he repeated, the words raw, his voice trembling. *"No,"* the third one said, mouth splitting again, her breath rough against his ear. *"Not really."* She yanked his wrist to the side, her fangs sinking in—not breaking the skin, but *claiming* it. He groaned, teeth clenched, as the second one’s palm trailed down his back to his cock, her touch hot and damp. The first one’s mouth was already on him, lips parting over his nipple, her teeth scraping the peak just enough to draw a sharp, desperate breath from his throat. *"Good answer."* She sank her fangs into the flesh of his chest, the third one biting deeper at his wrist, the fourth brushing her fingers over his sac. His world fragmented into sensation—teeth and mouth and hand, all of them *hungry*. He could feel himself swelling, the ache of it pushing against their grip, his breath stuttering out between his teeth when the second one’s nails scratched the underside of his cock, *just* enough to make him whimper. *"Let him have a say,"* the fourth murmured from the shadows, her voice soft. *"Or we’ll have to decide for him."*

The moment the words left his lips, the room stilled. The first’s breath hitched against his chest, her vine-fingers stuttering in their grip, the third’s fangs pulled back with a slow scrape of bark. Only the second’s touch remained steady, nails tracing lazy circles over his abs as if testing the weight of his answer. A rustle in the dark. The one with green tits—*the third*—emerged, her lower half still tangled in the sheets. She stretched, the rough texture of her limbs dragging over his thighs, her upper mouth curling into a predatory smirk. The bark on her chest flaked like wet autumn leaves, revealing flesh beneath: not smooth, but ridged with veins, her nipples two small, unnervingly soft points, already hardening in the cool air. *"You picked right,"* she purred, leaning forward, her human face too close. *"But do you really want to see them?"* Her fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him down. The first one’s palm left his cock, just long enough for him to arch into the second’s touch, her fingers wrapping around his shaft like a vice. Then the third let go—only to let her vine-arm coil upward, fingers tangling into his hair. The second’s free hand slid between his shoulder blades, nails digging deep enough to draw blood—not a lot, but enough to slick their fingers, their breath hitching when they saw the third’s chest shift, the bark parting ever so slightly. *"All mine,"* she whispered, the words rough with sap and hunger. *"Or we make a rule. You look, you pick. But you’re *all* ours by the end, one way or another."* Her lower mouth, still pressed to his skin, opened—just enough to show the glint of her fangs. His cock throbbed, trapped between their combined grip, the ache of it unbearable. *"Then let me look."*

The moment the word *"look"* left his lips, the third’s upper mouth split wider—vine-fingers clawing at the air like she was about to strangle him. Instead, her lower body jerked, bark peeling back in violent strips as her limbs stretched. The second’s nails traced his collarbone, leaving deep scratches that stung, but distracted him just enough. The first one’s tongue flicked over his chest, licking away blood while the third’s form writhed, her hips rolling up off the bed, leaves of bark sloughing off her in clumps, sticky sap soaking his sheets. Then her chest *popped*—one thick vein after another splitting, the last few strips of bark peeling away to expose soft skin beneath, glistening with sap. The green wasn’t uniform, but streaked—pulsing like liquid veins beneath the surface of her chest, two swollen, alien nipples jutting toward him as she growled, low and needy. *"Fucking *good*."* The second’s free hand dropped from his hair to his cock, fingers replacing her nails—hot and wet, stroking him deeper than the others had. "Now kiss them," the third demanded, shoving his face toward her chest. The first one’s tongue dragged over the second’s teeth before letting go, her own mouth turning to his neck while his breath hitched, his cock swelling even harder under the second’s relentless pumps. He didn’t hesitate. Lips pressed to the one closest to his face, her breath sweet and thick with sap, her nipple hard against his tongue—he flicked it, once, twice, the third’s groan a wet, desperate sound. *"That’s it,"* the fourth murmured, her voice rough with hunger. *"Pick one. The other two have to wait."*

And the one i pick with the big green tits and the other three held me down and then the i pick slowly climbed on my cock and she was really wet

The first one had her now—fingers hooked around his shoulders—yanking him back as the green-titted third straddled his lap. Her thighs were slick with sap, the rough bark of her skin replaced by something warm and yielding, her scent sharp, musky, drowning out the room’s usual damp stench. The third didn’t bother with foreplay. She sank down, slow and deliberate, the stretch of his cock swallowed by her tighter warmth, the deep, veined folds of her pussy gripping him like a fist. The second’s nails dragged across his collarbone, a fresh set of scratches, while the fourth kept his head pinned to the green-titted one’s chest—her tongue licking over his earlobe. *"Pick,"* the third growled, her hips rolling forward, the stretch of it too much, too *good*. His breath came ragged, but he didn’t need to look. He knew which one he wanted. The green-titted third was already working him, milking his cock with each grind of her hips, her lower mouth sucking at the underside of his shaft where her pussy couldn’t reach. *"Keep going,"* he gasped, fingers tangling in the sap-slick hair of the first and fourth. The second released him with a grin—vine-fingers already slick with saliva, tracing her path to the mattresses. *"Your choice,"* she purred, pressing his palm to the green-titted one’s chest, her sap-streaked flesh firm beneath his grip. The third’s laugh shook her. *"Brazen bitch,"* she taunted, riding him like she owned the room. *"He didn’t pick me for that."* Her fingers raked down, nails hooking into the sheets, flaying open the second’s restraints. *"He picked me for the tits."*

His pulse spiked as his lower body darkened—veins thickening under her weight, his skin slick with the same sap now coating her thighs. She paused mid-thrust, eyes locking onto his legs, her tongue swiping over her own lips. "Holy fuck," the second hissed, her fingers tracing where his foot met hers, the bark-like texture now creeping up his calves like hungry roots. "You’re *one of us* now, aren’t you?" The third’s grip tightened, her nails digging in deeper—*"He’s a* **planted** *"*—as she yanked him forward, her alien nipples dragging over his face, her scent and the sharp tang of his own transformation mixing in the air. A low, guttural growl rumbled through him, his back arching off the bed, his green-tipped toes curling into the sheets as the fourth’s mouth covered his, her tongue forcing sap into him. "Which one?" the third demanded, grinding down harder, her pussy fluttering around his cock, too tight, too *veined*, to ignore. The second’s restraints fell free, her lower mouth already sinking to the green-titted one’s chest, tracing the same path with her nails. His voice was a ragged thing. *"Let me *see* the last one."* The fourth shifted, her weight off him, and the room blurred—only the fourth toying with his hair, the green-titted third’s hips still rolling, her pussy’s wet heat gripping him like a vice, her nails tracing his collarbone now. And then he did see—her, the last, bare but for the last few shards of bark along her shoulders, her mouth twitching into a smirk—*"Since you* **grew** *so fond of my friend, take me next."* —as she crawled over him, her fingers already hooking into the elastic band of his boxers.

The third’s laughter was a dark, wet *chuff* as she dragged her nails down his biceps, the sap-slick bark already creeping up his forearms like a slow-motion infection. *"Still here?"* She squeezed her tits around his cock, the alien weave of her flesh tightening, her lower mouth flickering with a grin. *"Good. Because I’m not done with you yet."* Her thighs clenched, and the shift in pressure rippled through him—her pussy’s heat against his stomach, the deep throb of his cock still trapped between the slick, veined orbs of her chest. He tried to pull back, but her grip was unyielding, her fingers digging into the taut skin of his waist as she rocked forward, the underbelly of her breasts swallowing his shaft deeper. *"Jesus, you’re *stuck*,"* the second groaned, now fully free of her restraints, her own sap-slick mouth pressed against his greenening arms, her tongue tracing the spreading bark like she was memorizing a new geography. The third’s tits clenched around the last few inches of his cock, her breath hot and ragged against his ear. *"Tell me you like it,"* The fourth’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, ripping them down and away as the air around him thickened with the scent of sap, of transformation, of something that felt both *wrong* and *irresistible*. His cock was still buried in the third’s chest, the heat of it pulsing with every gasping breath, her alien nipples dragging against his stomach as she ground down. The second’s tongue flicked against his biceps, her hands sliding up to his wrists—*"Hold on,"*—as she guided his fingers to her own throat. A pulse beat there, just beneath the smooth skin, the veins already darkening. *"You’re going to *need* this soon."* Her nails weren’t gentle as she pinched his skin, the sharp sting a counterpoint to the slow, creeping heat of his cock trapped between the green-titted ones. *"Fight it,"*—she ground her hips against his thigh—*"or let it take you."*

My cock still inside of her and I felt the rest of my body turning green and she wouldn't let my cock go and I try so hard to get out of her and then I knew it wasn't going to happen

Her tits pulsed around his cock, the veins throbbing in time with the darkening green creeping from his fingertips down his wrists. *"No,"* the second smirked, pressing her palm against his chest over the last remaining patch of skin, *"you don’t get to choose."* The third’s laughter was a wet, ragged chuckle as she ground her hips down hard, forcing his trapped cock deeper into the alien heat of her. His fingers twitched against her neck, nails pressing into her skin but she only whimpered, *"Harder."* The muscles beneath her throat tightened, her own bark spreading from knuckles to shoulders as he obeyed. The pain was a bright, hot flash—her nails raking downward, not waiting to see if he’d surrender. *"Let me* **help**,"*" the second growled, her mouth now trailing sap-dripping kisses over his biceps, tongue lashing the creeping green like she was stoking a fire. Her fingers curled around his wrist, nails biting deep, and she *squeezed*, guiding his hand back to where the third’s body still gripped his cock. The third’s voice was a broken moan as she tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat to his hungry fingers. *"You’re* **both** *mine now."* Her hips stuttered under him, the tits around his cock clenching and releasing—wet, tight, *demanding*. His vision swam, the sap-slick third’s mouth dropping to his arm, teeth scoring rough green bark as her pussy pulsed harder. *"Try to* **run**,"*" the fourth whispered, her teeth dragging over his greenening shoulders, sap already soaking his chest. *"See how far you get."* The last words were lost, drowned out by the third’s breathless laugh as she clenched around his cock, nails digging into his pecs, and his cock finally started to *harden*—not against her, but *for* her.

And then I stared feeling my sticking to her and then I knew it was to late because I was making her the queen and I would be stuck to her

The green spreading from his chest to her throat, the rough bark melding with her slick skin. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips as the third’s tits tightened around his cock, the veins in her alien flesh pulsing in time with his own transformation. *"No—"* he gritted, but his voice cracked, his fingers sinking deeper into her throat, pressing against the rapidly darkening flesh. *"I’m the queen?!"* The second’s laugh was hot, a rasp against his biceps. *"Wasn’t always the deal."* Her nails traced his forearm now half-wood, her touch trembling—not from fear, but *anticipation*. The third’s body was trembling too, her pussy grinding down harder, the sap-soaked crown of his cock swelling inside her as the bark spread. His hips jerked against her, the pull instinctual. He was becoming her, and she was taking all of him—*down to the roots*. *"Bend,"* the fourth whispered, her mouth sucking his greenening nipples into her own sap-slick lips. *"Let me show you what it means to kneel."* Her teeth bit not in pain, but in command, and the bark crept over his shoulders. The third’s pussy convulsed around him, her alien tongue flickering between his knuckles as their bodies fused—*skin to wood, wood to skin*. He wasn’t running anymore. She was *claiming*.

And my body grew attached to her and we all went back to the space ship and started moving up in the air as I watched the land disappearing

The third's nails carved into his ribs as she yanked him deeper, her cunt swallowing the last of his pulsing length. The fusion was a wet, tearing kiss, his cock buried in the slick heat of her slit before the wood locked into place. *"Fuck,"* the fourth hissed, her mouth not waiting for an answer. The sap tasted sharp, like copper and bruise, as she dragged her tongue up his sternum, licking the rough bark where she’d just bitten. He was still hard—*harder*—the wood straining to stretch inside of her, and her hips ground down, forcing him further. The floor beneath them was gone, replaced by the soft, rhythmic hum of the ship’s engine. The second gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into the shifting skin just before it lost itself to wood. *"You’re* **hers**,"* she growled, pressing her thighs to his sides. The sap slicked between them, her pussy already eager, his tits still throbbing with the need to be *used*. His breath came in rough, uneven gasps as the bark traveled up their arms, connecting them like vines. The third’s mouth was a hungry rasp along his jaw, her teeth not quite sharp enough to break the wood that was now half his tongue. *"Tighter,"* she ordered, and he obeyed—her cunt clamping around the unholy joining of his cock and flesh, her breath a hot wet sigh at the new pressure. The fourth’s teeth closed harder, not pulling away this time. *"Now* **bend**,"* she commanded, and he did—his spine creaking, the wood still alive with her sap, his back arching to meet the third’s relentless grind. The second’s nails traced his spine, stopping just where more bark began to bloom. *"We’re home,"* the third moaned, her fingers tangling in the fourth’s hair. Below them, the world blurred into green and gold—*a promise of what was already his*.

The wood bit into his back like a whip, the pain sharp but welcome—a release from the last of his human form. His shoulder blades split under the third’s palm, bark forcing its way out from deep inside him, knotting over his spine in thickened ropes. The second’s tongue followed the path, lapping at the seams where his ribs were becoming sap-wet grain, her teeth scraping the new rough edges. *"Let it* **grow**,"* the fourth murmured, her lips still sealed to his chest, her fingers teasing the wood that was now his neck. The wood obeyed, shifting, stretching, darkening as she watched—hungry for the change, for the *claim*. His throat thickened, the bark pressing down as he forced another gasp between his lips. The third’s legs locked around his waist, her slit still clutching him deeper, the wood straining to fill every inch of her. Above, the fourth’s nails dragged down his belly, splitting the new flesh of his abdomen, her breath a hot wet sigh against his ear. *"More* **limbs**,"* she whispered, *"more* **ways** *to stretch."* The second didn’t resist—didn’t hesitate. Her teeth sank into the wood that was his bicep, her nails digging into the newly rough bark along his hip, pulling him toward her. His cock was still swelling, the wood *alive* inside them, the sap thick on his tongue now half-wood. The third’s fingers brushed his Adam’s apple, teasing the grain from inside. *"Swallow* **it**,"* she ordered, and the wood did. The air was thick with the scent—sap, spit, sweat—and his breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as the wood took root in every place they touched. The ship’s engine hummed louder, the world below them nothing but a blur of green through the viewport. The second’s pussy throbbed against his leg, her thighs pressing harder, her fingers clawing as the wood crept over his forearms, locking them together, *limbs to a tree, a tree to limbs*.