Monster Forest

Monster Forest Clearing #7, Monster Forest, at 06:15 AM on Monday March 14th, 2024

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Your eyes snap open to filtered green light and the smell of moss. You're sprawled on your back on a bed of damp leaves, and the first thing that registers is wrong, wrong, WRONG.

Your chest. Something's crushing your chest.

You try to sit up and nearly scream as twin weights pull forward with liquid momentum, throwing off your center of gravity. You flail, and your hands sink into impossibly soft flesh — your own flesh. Your fingers encounter the swell of breasts so enormous they completely fill your palms and keep going, spilling over in every direction. The sensation shoots straight between your legs like an electric current.

"What the fuck—" The voice that emerges is breathy, feminine, pitched higher than you've ever heard from your own throat. You clap a hand over your mouth and feel plush lips, a delicate jaw.

Panic rising, you struggle to your knees. Your thighs — thick, pillowy — press together with a friction that makes you gasp. And between them, you feel it: slickness. Wetness coating inner thighs that have no business being this thick, this soft. You're soaked, and you haven't even touched yourself.

You finally manage to get to your feet, swaying dangerously as you adjust to a completely foreign center of gravity. Looking down makes your head spin. Two massive, pale mounds strain against a white blouse that's at least two sizes too small, the buttons gaping to reveal a deep canyon of cleavage. The fabric is sheer enough that you can see your nipples — fat, dark pink, visibly hard — pressing against the material like they're trying to tear through it.

A pleated skirt barely covers the swell of an ass you can feel jiggling with every micro-movement. When you reach back to touch it — just to confirm this nightmare is real — your palm sinks into yielding softness that makes your new pussy clench involuntarily.

"No. No, this isn't — I'm Kenji. I'm a guy. I'm—"

But the memories are slippery. You remember your apartment, your collection, the figure that appeared from your screen. You remember saying yes. But trying to picture your old face, your old body — it's like grasping at smoke. Was your hair black? Brown? How tall were you?

A rustling in the undergrowth snaps your attention away from your existential crisis. The forest around you is dense, twilit despite the early morning hour. Enormous trees with bark that seems to pulse create a canopy so thick only fragments of sky peek through. Bioluminescent fungi cast everything in shades of green and blue. Vines hang everywhere, some moving slightly even though there's no wind.

Another rustle. Closer.

Your heart hammers as you turn in a circle, and the movement makes your tits bounce heavily, sending another bolt of sensation straight to your core. You're panting now, and each breath makes your chest heave in a way that's impossible to ignore.

Then you see it: a vine that's definitely moving. It slides across the ground like a snake, thick as your wrist, with a tip that glistens with some kind of secretion. As you watch, frozen, another vine descends from above, this one moving with clear intent toward your position.

The horrifying realization crashes over you: you know exactly what kind of world you're in. You've jerked off to this scenario a thousand times. The tentacle forest. The corruption. The breeding.

Except now you're the one with the pussy.

The vine on the ground suddenly lunges forward, wrapping around your ankle with shocking speed and strength.

Your objective for this adventure is: Find and pass through the Exit Gate to escape this hentai world before suffering a permanent bad end.