Disclaimer: ⚠️ This story is a work of dark fantasy fiction for mature audiences (18+). It features intense sexual themes, psychological descent, supernatural eroticism, generational curses, and scenes involving hypnotic consent. All characters are fictional and over the age of 18. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Elian, a 21-year-old tech-born skeptic, inherits more than just memories after his father vanishes. A mysterious family curse tied to desire, transformation, and ancient surrender begins to awaken in his blood. And as his body responds… so does the forest.
Elian had always been ordinary — or at least, he tried to be.
Elian was born where everything blinked.
Screens. Alarms. Smart mirrors.
His city, Nurovia, didn’t believe in superstition — and neither did he. Magic, curses, old gods? Childhood stories. He was raised on logic, simulation pods, and interactive porn. He was straight, dated girls in college, coded erotic AI on the side.
raised by a soft-spoken mother and a father whose presence lingered only in photographs. His dad had vanished when Elian was three, All he had left were fading pictures and his mother’s refusal to answer certain questions..
“Your father was... drawn to things,” she once said cryptically. “Things he should’ve left buried.”
He didn’t believe in spirits, fate, or “curse bloodlines.” He believed in simulation porn and sleek hands on AI thighs.
But then… his body betrayed him.
Something in him… didn’t behave.
When a male friend touched his shoulder, it stayed with him for hours. Sometimes his groin responded. Sometimes he got hard from nothing, his mind blank, but his body desperate. He hated it. Denied it. Masturbated with guilt.
There was always a dream pulling him elsewhere — a hunger he couldn’t name.
At night, he’d wake up sticky, breathless. His sheets wet, thighs trembling. Always from the same dream: dark woods, a tall figure, fingers trailing down his spine, whispering a name that wasn’t his.
At 21, it got worse.
The dreams began.
A glowing man in a forest.
A voice whispering, “You’re almost ready.”
Generations of men kneeling, offering their seed to the same luminous being — and becoming it.
---
It started again the day he turned twenty-one.
After his mother’s death, Elian returned to the basement of their old flat and discovered his father's trunk.
Dust choked the old room. But behind the cobwebbed trunk, he found a wooden box, locked and sealed with wax. The initials: D.A. — his father's.
Inside: sketches identical to his dreams. Notes. Research. A map to Greydale, fevered handwriting.
“The forest calls bloodlines. I was taken. Not unwillingly. I left a part of myself behind — and something inside me in return.”
Sketches filled the margins. Men bent backwards in vine-wrapped ecstasy. Their expressions of pleasure bordered on pain. Every page hummed with heat.
He stared at one that looked like him. Same eyes. Same body. Mouth stretched open, eyes rolling back.
His hand trembled. One final note:
"I bought time. You were born marked. I’m sorry, Elian."
That night, Elian woke moaning. He had cum in his sleep. Again.
---
For days, he searched. Buried in blogs and PDFs, he found whispers of the same thing — men across decades describing dreams, trances, and transformations near the Moonwood Forest.
They all mentioned the Red Moon. They all vanished after their final posts.
He wasn’t alone.
But he was desperate. No answers. Just warnings.
So Elian decided:
If no one will tell me what I am… I’ll find out myself.
He packed his bag.
And left everything behind. He went out to find his dad and some answers, Elian thought.
He didn't knew this all was a trap, The Forest, The Being was making him do such things which lead him going to Greylade.
---
He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. The dreams were starting again. Stronger.
That night, he woke outside the hut. Barefoot. Shirtless. His hands were covered in sap.
And he’d been walking toward the jungle.
He didn’t remember it.
Every night, it pulled stronger.
Every night, someone from the village stopped him. A woman shouting. A boy grabbing his arm. A whisper: “Don’t go under the red moon.”
and people asked him to go back before it's to late.
He also realises that no one's there to give him the answers so He decided to go back.
But it was the night of Red Moon.
The red moon rose.
He came out of his but and saw a golden Beam.
He followed it as it looked something similar he'd seen in his dreams and journal.
And no one stopped him.
The forest didn’t just welcome him — it obeyed him.
Vines moved aside like curtains. The grass bent under his feet. Birds chirped in rhythm. The trees creaked like ancient throats singing for his arrival.
“What is this…?” Elian whispered, heart pounding.
The clouds above split, revealing a radiant full moon. His skin tingled. He felt… seen. Desired.
Something shifted beneath him.
Vines moved.
Like snakes, they caressed his legs, slithered up his thighs, gently pulling him into the air. His legs parted instinctively, his breath catching as the vines slid beneath his clothes, unweaving them,
Chirrppppp!
The vines pulled his clothes making him naked with graceful authority.
“Ahh—!” Elian gasped. “Wait—what are you doing!?”
He dangled there, nude, glowing, trembling—not with fear, but with something feral and wet in his belly.
He was naked, suspended in air, legs spread.
Elian blushed violently. “No—stop! Please—what the fuck is happening—!”
But the vines soothed him. Warm. Pulsing. They cradled him like arms. He should’ve screamed.
But his body was aching.
Then… it appeared.
A shape from the trees. Shadow with golden eyes.
Tall. Glowing. Not man. Not beast.
The forest hummed.
“You came,” the voice said, inside his mind. Deep. Timeless.
“You opened the line again.”
“Wh-who are you?” Elian stammered.
“I am what your father made love to,” it said. “And you are his pact reborn.”
It placed one hand on Elian’s chest. Elian arched, moaning. A wave hit him—erotic, unbearable, holy.
“You were never meant to find your father. You were meant to finish what he couldn't.”
He hovered over Elian — and entered him, slowly, perfectly, deeply.
Elian’s moans echoed through the trees. His fear melted into heat. Into hunger.
He cried out, his eyes rolling back, voice shaking:
“Ahh—God—!” he cried.
His cock stiffened instantly. Pulsing. Dripping.
“What—why do I feel like this?!”
“You are awakening,” it said. “The forest remembers you. Your blood. Your seed.”
It knelt between Elian’s legs.
“No—wait! Please—” he tried to squirm.
His mind shattered in pleasure.
It was like centuries of need finally touched him.
The being lifted him higher. Vines spread his cheeks, slowly, reverently.
Elian whimpered. “I can’t—I shouldn’t—”
But he didn’t finish.
The being entered him.
Slowly.
Smoothly.
Like it belonged.
His spine arched. Eyes rolled back. “Ohhh fuuuuckk—!”
He clenched around it, body trembling. Pain faded into desire. Desire into surrender.
Memories burned away. His name. His purpose. His past. All gone.
“I’m… yours,” he whispered. “Take it… take all of me...”
“More… please don’t stop… I need it…”
Each thrust changed him.
His skin shimmered. His voice deepened. Wings sprouted. His cock lengthened, hardened, godlike.
The being began shrinking, becoming human again — the curse transferring.
Elian’s memories began to vanish. His purpose. His name.
The being smiled.
“Just like your father.”
They moved in rhythm. Like mating animals under the blood moon.
The forest moaned with him. Echoed. His cries of pleasure reached the village.
Children woke up. Women prayed. Men covered their ears.
The being poured into him — not just physically, but spiritually. Elian’s skin glowed. His eyes turned gold.
“You accept me, body and soul?” he asked.
“Yes!” Elian moaned. “Take me, gods, take me!”
By dawn, he was no longer human.
He stood in the clearing, naked, radiant, vines curled around his ankles like loyal pets.
All that remained was the hunger. The lust. The need to take.
He began to buck back against the being. “More,” he groaned, shaking. “Please, more…”
By midnight, it was over. The moaning stopped.
The villagers, silent in their homes, said only, “It has claimed another. Just like his father.”
The next morning, the jungle lay still.
Elian awoke, naked and alone in the glade. He blinked at his golden skin, felt his new wings unfurl behind him, stretching.
He could hear the whispers of every creature.
He could feel the trees breathing.
He was no longer man.
He was the Being now.
The curse had completed.
A vision came—faint but clear. A girl in the city. Rubbing her belly. Smiling.
His girlfriend.
Elian's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Next target," he whispered.
He had forgotten everything—but the hunger remained.
Was he the last?
Or just the next?
---
Months later, back in the city, Elian’s former girlfriend ran her hands over her round stomach, humming softly.
Inside her, the fetus glowed faint gold.
She didn’t notice.
But he did.
From far away, wings cloaked in moonlight, Elian watched—no longer man, no longer memory, only curse.
And he waited.
Because the forest is patient.
And so is the hunger.
🕯️ The End Or the beginning.
The End.
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