Tonight’s femcan fantasy story = a Baba Yaga tale of horror.

I want to tell you a femcan fantasy story so scary it will keep you awake at night. Let’s imagine it’s the dead of night. It’s the witching hour, and you are lost in strange woods, misty and mystical. There’s something eerie about this bizarre, other-worldly place. You feel awfully frightened. Don’t you?

Best to hurry along the path and try to find your way out. The stars seem to light your way better in some spots than others. Your whole body is saturated with a pervasive, visceral dread. What’s that up ahead? It looks like a light. Better hurry up and follow it before one of the wolves get you.

Your breathing quickens as you approach the light. In a small, swampy clearing, you see what looks like a dwelling. There are no windows. Also, what are those posts holding up the shack? Are you losing your mind, or are those chicken’s feet? Maybe you’re dreaming.

Before you draw any closer, you turn around to see if you can find your way back in the event the habitants prove unfriendly. But it’s like you’re even more confused when looking behind you. Wasn’t there fewer trees there? It seems even thicker. That’s strange. You’re be-cumming more disoriented with every step closer you take to my swamp hut.

You notice a picket fence around the crudely built, windowless cabin. Are those skulls atop the posts? Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Because that couldn’t possibly be real, not here. Your stomach drops further down and the panicked knot in your throat tightens.

Even if you had dropped bread crumbs, there’s no turning back now.

Is it vore fetish or granny phone sex when we begin our femcan fantasy story call? If I’m Baba Yaga, I might not look ancient. I might have just taken one of my blue rose potions. I’ve unaged. But I’m still hungry. I’m hungry for your soul, mostly. And you don’t know your way home. Certainly, you don’t know all this when you naively knock at my dark door.

Above all, you’re taken aback by my supernatural beauty as I open the door. Revealing myself to you shows you nothing, but looking at you tells me everything I need to know. Your confession that you’re hopelessly lost doesn’t surprise me. It delights me.

I’m not entirely evil. In fact, others often seek me for my knowledge and guidance. But you don’t seem to have cum here of your own accord. That can only mean one thing. You and your immortal soul came to serve as my dinner.

Even though you’ve stepped inside, things seem to have gotten colder. The wind seems to whistler more hauntingly, the trees are howling louder. Why are you so afraid even though you’ve found shelter?


Did you enjoy a good femcan fantasy story? Are you afraid of Baba Yaga? You should be. And we should make our own tale of terrifyingly female vore-ific proportions.

femcan fantasy story