The Nymph

The Greek poets called her species nymphs.

Spirits of nature who take on the form of beautiful maidens and offer themselves for the pleasure of heroes traveling through the valleys to complete their quests of divine significance.

They can exist anywhere in the wild, the texts also say.

Mountains. Lakes. Ponds.

But especially the woods.

There, their influence is especially powerful, extending over the plants, the animals, even the air itself.

Now, the poems are faithful as to their beauty...on the outside.

On the inside, these so-called nymphs are just as monstrous as a barbaric orc or scavenging harpy.

They protect nature by forcing outsiders to become one with it.

Innocent, guilty, it matters not.

Flesh is flesh, at the end of the day.

You are (thankfully) still in possession of yours as the initial disorientation seems to fade into the background, only to be replaced by a floral scent that's even more captivating.

One even sweeter than the fruits at the market.

The smell of fresh flowers.

Your eyes flicker up and see her smile.

Her naked body, from head to toe.

Short and slender, the plant girl is a vision of beauty.

Her curves are exquisite, forming the all-coveted hourglass shape so many women desire.

Breasts plenty bountiful and well-formed.

Eyes the color of emeralds.

Most distinctly of all, her skin pigmented in pure, almost poignant green.

She is indeed beautiful...and deadlier than a nightshade.

“My name is Lily.” But her voice is so alluring, so welcoming.

“You….you’re my first…” It is a struggle just to form basic words in her presence, which was somewhat embarrassing for you.

“Awww, soooo cute!” Her face morphs into an almost girlish squeal of excitement.

Her smile beams down at you. “Even cuter than the last one who came to us.”

Lily turns around, showing you her attractive rear while pumping those shapely hips forward.

Words again fail to solidify on your tongue.

But your eyes- your eyes betray you with everything that she is.

“Oh yes, I remember him now. Oh, what a man!!”

You try to focus.

No, you have to focus.

Focus as she swings one leg over the other, her dainty feet not even touching the ground fully as they perfectly arched on the dirt and leaves.

“We enjoyed him for days, didn’t we?”

She is talking to someone, but not you.

You **** your eyes upward, seeing her back to you, the green hair with little flower petals intertwined with the strands flowing down the shoulders and neck.

Words eventually do form after some lead-tongued difficulty. “Which...one...are…?”

“Oh, and inquisitive, too! You’re not all dumb in the head yet!!”

She turns, flashing you a beautiful grin with those luscious lips.

“You are going to digest for us soooo well!!”

So beautiful. So terrifying at the same time.

You now know how wrong the Greeks were.

Her kind is not the ally of man.

She is their undoing.