Adult Content Warning
This page contains adult content, please set a higher Comfort Level below if you want to view it.
The Melon Witch Project
This is Suppleham, formerly known as Melon. A small quiet Yunia town. Like a small, quiet town anywhere. Some 20 families laid roots here over 200 years ago. Many remain, either on the hill or in the town below.
An unusually high number of legendary contortionists originate from here, most of them performed around 80 years ago. Yet no one here recalls anything unusual about this time, not to us, anyway. Yet legend tells a different story, whose evidence is all around us.
"Ever heard of the Melon Witch?" we ask a fit looking couple, practicing passive stretching on the grass in nothing but their birthsuits.
"Sounds familiar. My sister used to buy melons from her," responds the handsome, long-haired boy whose tanned body looks pretty strong, despite being held in the softest yummy pretzel.
"Can you tell me a little more?" we ask the older girl whose legs are stretched in a straddle split on the grass, meanwhile she has her hands free to help the boy with his progress.
"I don't wanna go cheesy. I want to present this straightforward. That young hag has the biggest boobs on Yunia!"
"You heard of the Melon Witch?" we ask Garrett the hostler, a muscled man around 30, himself quite a stallion down there and proud of it, walking around in a birthsuit like most of them down in Suppleham.
"Several times," he says, brushing the tail of a beautiful mare in front of him.
"What was the first incident?"
"I've heard stories about it from people and neighbors, about her and legends of old Melon, my grandmother told us the story in the morning to make us start stretching early. They say if you stay very flexible to the age of eightteen, the Melon witch will lead you to her hut."
"A kind of a teaser, isn't it?"
Trick or Trap WIP"The sexiest story about her. One day, Melonie, as we call her, came into the market and said 'I'm finally finished'. And what did she mean by that? Nobody knew at first. But the next day the festival began and five boys came to the market and went on bending and twisting their bodies in ways that nobody had seen before. It was her idea of a proper celebration, as you see it's remembered to this day. She would lure the boys into her hut in twos and she'd make one sit in the corner and watch, and she'd use sorcery to train the other one. Then she'd train the one in the corner too. Those were the five boys that became legends a long time ago."
"And do you think she could still be up there now?" we point at the thick forest upon the nearby mountain.
"I don't go up there," Garrett shrugs as his mare hmpf's provocatively.
"I'm old enough not to go. The woods are haunted and stuff like that."
"What? How are they haunted?"
"Well, there's many people who know that it's haunted. You take a nap under a tree and wake up folded up like a towel, or knotted into a pretzel, or hanging between tree branches in an oversplit. When I was young, went there every day, but the last two times about ten years ago were too much, so I figured I'm too old for that and started lifting instead."