16 comments/ 23908 views/ 12 favorites Song of the Magicicada By: SweetWitch It was Saturday, June 4. The temp was already well over eighty degrees and it was not yet 8:00 A.M. Being unseasonably warm, it was just another typical spring day in Illinois. Or maybe it wasn't so typical. After all, it was the year of the Magicicada. The thirteen-year brood had made it's appearance right on schedule, filling the woodlands with an eerie buzzing that reminded Circe Gregor of horror stories about aliens landing and taking over the world. She laughed at herself as she dodged another large, flying insect. She had collected several specimens for her friend, Dora. Dora was a good person, but being an entomologist, bugs were her life. Inconvenienced by a medical condition that kept her wheelchair bound, she often conned Circe into collecting samples. So now Circe was battling the brutal sun, the heavy, humid air and the overpowering roar of cicada song. She stopped under the shade of a sugar maple to rest. Her feet were hot in the old hiking boots. A rivulet of sweat trickled between her breasts. Her water bottle was empty. With a sigh, she tucked it into her pack and continued on her way. This was not how she had planned to spend her twenty-sixth birthday. Still, it was better than the mindless little garden party her mother was throwing for her. It wasn't that she minded spending quiet hours with her mother, her grandmother and their friends; she was more inclined to do something physical, something more demanding of her body than sipping watery punch from little crystal cups and eating finger sandwiches. Circe, much to her mother's chagrin, had turned out to be more like her father—a rough-and-tumble man who was more comfortable in jeans than a suit. Her parents were the original odd couple. It wouldn't be long now. Just another half mile or so and a special treat would be waiting. Over the next rise was a stream and at the head of that stream was a cascade of water falling into a deep, green pool. The waterfall wasn't very big, but it was ice cold, coming from a spring deep in the bluff. It was pure, too, pure enough to drink. Her thirst drove her onward. No water anywhere quenched her need like a limestone spring. It was sweet and cold, nectar of the gods. She smacked her lips and hoisted her small pack a little higher; thanking those same gods for the day her grandfather purchased this land more than forty years earlier. Her mother was not of the same frame of mind. That sainted woman was never comfortable with Circe running wild in the hills. She often cited stories of how Grandpa Gregor had walked up here one day and simply disappeared. All that was found of him was an empty shirt and a hat. That was long before she was born, though, and it had nothing to do with today. As she topped the rise, she could hear the water over the din of locusts. "They're not true locusts," she heard Dora declare in her brain. "Shut up, will ya?" she said aloud. "A bug is a bug, for crying out loud." Pulling the pack from her shoulders, she dragged it down the steep incline. All she wanted was to shed her boots and wade into the marvelous water. When she got to the edge of the pool, she did just that before sitting on an outcropping of rock and dipping her toes. The water was freezing, sending fingers of icy chills up her legs. It was colder than she remembered from her last visit, and deeper, too. It was the spring rains, she decided. It hadn't been such a typical year, if she stopped to think about it. The winter had been long—too long—and too cold. The amount of snow it brought was unusual for the area, as were the spring rains that seemed to go on forever—until the day the Magicicada emerged, that is. With them came the hot weather, the end of rain and the endless drone of the buzzing song. The bugs seemed to grow louder in the tree limbs overhead. As she listened, she could discern definite patterns in the sound. There was a full octave of sound, a chorus of chirps and hums that drowned out the sound of the falls. Reaching down, she cupped water and splashed it over her face. The chill was startling, reviving her spirits enough to draw her in. With a grin, she stood, shucked her clothes and stretched. There was something deliciously wicked about being stark naked in the bright sunshine. The cicadas seemed to agree as their song took on a more joyful tone. She batted at an errant bug when it flew too close. It landed on the rock next to her clothes. It didn't move, only stared up at her with its glowing red eyes. Another soon landed next to it, joining its fellow in staring at her nudity. A third soon perched on the rock, and a fourth. It was unnerving to be watched, even if it was by a bunch of bugs. Unsure if it was her desire to be cooled by the chilly water or her need to get away from the prying, faceted eyes, she took the Nestea plunge, falling backward into the water to let it wash over her body. When she came up for air, another insect dive-bombed her head. "Hey," she said, sputtering as she swatted at it. It hovered just beyond her reach for a moment before joining a small swarm circling overhead. An uneasy feeling started as a flutter in her breast. It spread through her body when the drone in the trees changed its pattern. It swelled and rose to a crescendo that sounded like a stage whisper of her name. The scene had gone from eerie to frightening. She ducked under, swimming away from the growing swarm. When she surfaced again, it was to see the cicadas flying in the opposite direction. They moved as one, a black cloud swelling, collapsing upon itself and swelling again. They landed as one, too, right on her clothing and backpack. So many bugs, it seemed, had the strength of men. Lifting in unison, they carried her belongings away into the summer sky. "What the . . .?" She swam toward the big rock, trying in vain to get there in time, but it was too late. Her clothing was gone on a large black cloud. Naked in the frigid water, she wondered how she would possibly get home. Her thoughts quickly changed when a new swarm began to collect overhead. She moved toward the center of the pool, away from the burgeoning swirl of insects. They followed with the occasional insect swooping low over her head. She didn't give ground this time as she treaded the water's surface. With a cautious eye, she watched as they circled ever-closer. Her name became clearer in the trees. The swarm moved lower. Despite herself, she drifted backwards toward the waterfall. The cicadas were driving her back, directing her movements. She splashed water at them, waved an arm in their direction, and went under. When she surfaced, they attacked as one, aiming at her head. Circe dove, digging deep for the bottom and swimming for the falls. When she sputtered to the surface again, she was behind the protection of a watery wall. Still, she could hear the drone of her name over the roar of the water, could see the black cloud of bugs on the other side. When a few found their way inside her haven, she ducked under again. The creatures appeared to have a conscious thought process. Maybe they had taken exception to her capture of some of their fellows. Perhaps they sensed the fate of those imprisoned insects in her now-missing backpack. The last time she had encountered the emergence, she was thirteen. At the time, they seemed magical to her, befitting the name given them by scientists. She sat at this very pool drawing pictures of them and wishing she could grow wings like theirs. Now she just wanted to be shed of them. When she poked her head up for air, the slippery, wet surface of the rock wall behind the falls was dotted with clinging insects. All had their fierce red eyes turned to her, watching her every move. She dove again, wondering how she was going to find her way out of this mess. The creatures were supposed to be harmless, non-biting and non-venomous, but she couldn't be sure with the way they were intent upon attacking her. She couldn't stay down forever. Soon she would have to find her way out of the water and back home. With no clothing, it was going to be tricky. Something touched her leg. She whirled in the water to see a strange, colorful fish. It watched her, turning on its side to have a better look. A second one arrived, almost glowing as the sun glinted off its rainbow of colorful scales. She swam up for another gulp of air, heard her name in the breath of the wind, in the rumble of the water, the song of the Magicicada. When she dove again, she saw the strange fish head away into what appeared to be a cave. Every summer since she was little girl, she had been coming here. Never, in all that time, in all the swimming she had done here, did she remember seeing a cave. But there it was, waiting to be discovered. The two fish stopped just inside the entrance and turned to watch. It seemed as if they waited for her. She surfaced for another deep breath of hot air, saw the growing numbers of cicadas on the wall and dove straight down to the waiting fish. They moved deeper into the mouth of the cave and turned to watch. She followed, seeing a light at the other end. It wasn't a cave at all. It was a tunnel of sorts. After taking a moment to gauge the distance in the murky water, she plunged through the opening. Before she reached the other end, she began to wonder if she would make it. Her lungs burned and her heart pounded in her chest. She needed life-giving oxygen. Just as she began to weaken and despair, one of the fish touched her hand. When she turned her head to look, she was startled to find the fish much larger than it had first appeared. The thing was every bit as big as she. It nuzzled its head under the palm of her hand, flashed a colorful eye at her and began to swim. Its mate did the same with her other hand and together they pulled her through the lengthening tunnel. Other fish swam by—tiny minnows that looked like trout and a catfish as big as a whale. A giant tadpole stopped to look at her, its giant bulbous head as big as a bowling ball. She wanted to scream, but the precious little air she had in her lungs was all that sustained her—and it was failing. As the light drew near, the world began to darken. Her time was running short, and her grip on the fish was weakening. She could hold on no longer, her hands sliding off the creatures as her body sank. Something very large butted against her naked bottom, hurtling her through the water and into the light. She had made it to the other side, her body flying through the water to the surface. When her head hit the open air, she expelled carbon dioxide and drew in fresh oxygen with a sound akin to a scream. Her burning lungs filled, exhaled and filled again. Whatever had rescued her was still nestled under her butt, holding her to the surface. She looked down to see the massive head of a giant catfish. The rainbow fish hovered along side, watching, waiting. "Thank you," she whispered. The catfish seemed to smile as it held her there. The colorful fish flashed their sides at her and swam away. She sat on the catfish, taking a moment to look at her surroundings. It was a mirror image of her swimming hole on the other side. There was a fall, the green pool, the stream leading away, but it was gigantic in proportion to her starting point. Everything here was huge, including the cicada that flew overhead. They appeared as big as parrots, flitting about and watching her. She could even see the rock, her favorite perch when visiting the pool. There was no way she would be able to climb onto it here. It might as well be a mountaintop. The sounds were different here, too. Instead of buzzes and chirps, the cicadas sang a chorus that would make the Vienna Boys Choir envious. The song was beautiful, filling the air with notes unheard before in nature. The sun above was too golden to be real, shining on enormous plants with blossoms that seemed to dance in time to the music. Birds flew overhead, creating great shadows on the pristine water, while grasshoppers the size of cats hopped by. Everything was bright and misty, as if looking through a lens covered in cheese cloth. And the colors! Their brilliance bordered on unreal—from the deep red of the wild roses to the azure blue of the morning sky. Gold was everywhere, cast by the sun, glinting on the water, sparkling in the branches of the over-sized trees. She blinked several times, certain her eyes were playing tricks. That's when she noticed several hidden recesses, places where the light didn't quite touch. They were dark, foreboding, as if some sickness ate away at the surrounding woodlands. Where was she? "You're in my demesne," a voice said. It was a deep voice, yet hardly more than a whisper. The catfish beneath her wiggled when she turned to look for the owner of the voice, it was impossible to find its direction, no matter which way she turned. "Where are you?" she yelled. "Stop trying to scare me." "Are you scared, little human?" She slipped off the fish and when she whirled around to look, she saw a giant cicada hovering in circles nearby. Her eyes narrowed as she treaded water. The thing looked big enough to make a snack of her, bigger than the rest by several feet. When it flew too close, the catfish surfaced and lunged for it. The cicada drew back. "Be gone, big fish," the voice said. "Make no threats at me." The catfish sank beneath the surface, but stayed by Circe's side as if to reassure her. She placed a hand on its over-sized head and watched the giant insect. "He's been a problem since he came here. I wonder why my mother puts up with him," the voice said. "Who are you?" Circe demanded. "Why, I'm the prince of all you survey. I'm the voice in the wind and the blush of the red, red rose. I give life to the earth and song to the birds." "And that tells me exactly nothing. Who are you really?" The cicada flew behind her, dipping low. A man jumped from its back, landing lightly on a floating branch. When Circe looked again, she was unsure if it was a man at all. He was certainly the strangest human she'd ever seen, if indeed he was human, and it was impossible to gauge his age with his hairless body and perfect facial features. It wasn't his face that intrigued her so, even though it was strange to behold with its long angles, smooth, flawless skin and eyes that appeared to have more iris than white. Truth was there was no white in them at all. They were large, almond-shaped and colored the deepest darkest green of a pine forest. It wasn't his hairless body, either. It appeared almost boyish, although well-formed and powerful. Its arms were longer than a normal man's, as were its legs. At the ends of the legs were strange feet with no more than three toes, seemingly designed for gripping things such as the branch on which he perched. His hands were equally unusual with over-long, claw-like fingers that fluttered about like the wings of a bird. His right hand waved dramatically, while his left grasped a scepter of gold capped with a glowing pink stone. Not even his naked, hairless phallus—although unusually large and seemingly able to move about with its own power like an extra limb—caught her attention as much as the tail. A tail! The creature had a long, prehensile tail. It worked like an extra hand, grasping at a stick as the creature crouched low over the water. Then she saw the wings. They glistened in the sun, delicately veined as the cicada's. The tail forgotten, her attention centered on the wings that spread to help him balance. "Am I not a magnificent sight," the creature said. "Well, you're different," she said. "What the hell are you?" "I am Oberon, prince of the faerie kingdom, my lady." The creature stood, offered a mock bow and laughed. "Am I not the most splendid you've ever seen?" "Compared to what?" Circe spit out water, her body drifting low as she began to tire. "One thing's for sure, you're certainly the most conceited." The catfish nudged under her again, offering support to keep her head above water. A flash of anger crossed Oberon's face. He seemed to catch himself and smiled as he reached out a hand. "Come, my lady. I will give you shelter and food. You must be exhausted after your long trip." "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm naked." "We're all naked here, sweet lady. Come. No harm will befall you. I give my word." The fish dodged from under her, allowing her head to fall below the surface. When she came up sputtering, it was to see the great fish splashing about in the space between her and the faerie. It made a sound reminiscent of a cat's growl. Oberon gave a startling cry, lifting his scepter to aim at the fish. A ball of pink fire shot forth, narrowly missing the fish when it dove. It came up again, lunging at the faerie and taking the full force of a fireball to its green belly. The fish sank like a stone. "You killed it!" Circe cried. "I sincerely doubt it, my lady. He'll be back, just as he always is. We should be gone before he returns. I fear he wishes to make a meal of you." Thinking of the size of the creature's mouth, she swam closer to Oberon and placed her hand in his. She felt a rush of warmth surround her as her body lifted weightless from the water. All around was light, encompassing the air and even her body. At her startled gasp, Oberon pulled her close and wrapped his long arms about her. "I have you well in hand, lady," he whispered in her ear. "You got me, but who's got you?" she asked when she saw how far below the surface of the water was. "Are we flying?" He chuckled softly, the sound tickling her inner ear. "I'm flying. You are merely along for the ride." Circe twisted slightly, trying to pull away from his nudity. His tail snaked around her, crushing her belly to his. To make matters worse, something wiggled between her legs, stroking her private parts as if petting a kitten. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You must forgive my princely cock," he whispered. "It has a mind all its own." "Back home this is called deviant sexual assault. Put me down this minute." She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "As you wish." Too late, she realized her mistake as she found herself hurtling through empty space toward terra firma. When she hit, she was going to miss the water and land on the rocks, a thought that raced through her mind as she screamed in terror. As if on cue, the giant cicada swooped below her, catching her on its back. The faerie prince landed beside her crumpled body as the enormous insect carried them higher into the morning sky. She glanced up at him, panting as she tried in vain to cover her nakedness. His hand touched her face, moving a long wet strand of hair from her eyes. "I am yours to command," he said. "You must be careful which commands you issue." "You tried to kill me." "Nothing of the sort, you told me to put you down. I merely complied." "I didn't mean for you to drop me, and I certainly don't want to ride a damned bug." "My friend will deliver us safely to my home. There you may rest and recover your strength. The imps shall attend your needs while you rest." "I want clothes." Oberon looked annoyed. "We have nothing to resemble your false skins here. We maintain our natural state." "I'm cold and . . . uncomfortable." He extended a hand, raising her to her feet. "You shall be quite warm again soon." The cicada swerved between the branches of an ancient oak. Circe lost her balance, falling against Oberon. His arms wrapped about her, holding too close for her comfort. His animated phallus stroked her thigh as his tail ran over the contours of her buttocks. "Hey," she hissed. "What do you think you're doing?" "Why, keeping you from falling, my lady." Song of the Magicicada "I'm not your lady. Tell your dick to stop touching me." "Why would I do that?" His leer spoke more than his words. She pushed away from him as the cicada lit upon giant branch. Looking down, she gauged the distance to the ground in miles. "What is this place? Why is everything so big? And you, I thought faeries were tiny things. You're almost eight feet tall." He laughed out loud as he jumped from the bug's back. "I am small by your human terms. Everything here is the same size as in your world. It's you who is no longer your regular size." She ignored his outstretched hand, jumping onto a branch as big as a tree trunk. "How can that be?" she demanded. "I'm still me. I don't shrink." "Ah, but you did." He led the way toward the heart of the tree. "When you swam through the tunnel and entered my world, your body took on the dimensions of our kind. It was a bit of faerie magic so you and I could become acquainted." "Change me back!" she cried. "You had no right. I don't belong here." "Then why did you come?" "It was the bugs. They drove me under the falls. I had no choice." "Everyone has a choice, sweetling." He ignored her further protests as he led the way through a knothole in the trunk of the tree. "Holy crap," she whispered. The hollow of the tree was a world all its own. It was house—a castle, even—with golden walls hung in gossamer spider webs as intricately woven as fine tapestries. Soft cotton down covered the floors, with toadstools and moss set about much like furniture. Blossoms of all colors graced the corners and ceiling. Everywhere there was a profuse array of colors and comforts. Diminutive, giggling creatures appeared from nowhere, taking her hands, leading her to large raised dais in the center. It was covered in moss and downy feathers with a golden canopy draped in silvery webs. They forced her to sit, their tiny hands touching her with warmth until she was fairly glowing. "I will leave you now, so you may feed and recover," Oberon said. He bowed slightly, his elongated hand rising in a mock flourish. "If you have need of anything, the imps will present it. You have only to think of it and it's yours." He was gone, leaving her to the mercy of the strange little creatures. They looked like tiny babies with grimacing faces. Her mind told her she should be running in terror, but her body was falling victim to the warm pleasure of being stroked and petted. Something was held to her lips, a tiny flower in the shape of a cup. She drank greedily of the sweet, pink liquid. The warmth became a languid fire spreading through her limbs and making her weak. Their hands were in her hair and caressing her limbs with a warm oily substance. She chewed when something succulent passed through her lips, swallowing obediently as the hands worked relentlessly to massage away her fatigue. She was too relaxed to protest when tiny fingers played over her nipples, too warm to care when her legs were pulled apart and something hot spread over her mound. Her eyes barely focused when she saw something scraped against her skin, removing her pubic hair. Her body was forced gently back over the downy bed, her knees lifted to her chest, as more of the hot substance was carefully applied to her labia and the flesh surrounding her anus. She giggled as the scraping tool cleared away the fine hairs there, leaving her more naked than she was before. And wet. She could feel her own wetness coating her thighs as the tiny creatures worked. Another cup of pink liquid was poured down her throat while the stroking continued. Then she was suddenly alone, her body too languid to rise up and look. She didn't care. She was heated to the point of burning, her nipples hard, legs spread and waiting. What was wrong with her? She didn't understand what was happening, and she was past the point of caring. All was pleasure, decadence, arousal. The bed of moss shifted slightly, causing her head to turn. Oberon was back, reclining next to her, his long, nimble fingers tracing a pattern on her belly. "Feeling better?" he asked. She nodded, turning her head away. She should be fighting, should be running for her life—or at least trying to cover herself—but all she could manage was a soft moan. At the end of the bed was the strangest flower she'd ever seen. It mesmerized her as he continued to stroke the flesh of her torso. The flower hovered in the air, its purple petals glowing with a light all their own. She reached to touch it, watched in amazement as a shower of sparks poured like a fountain from it. Her touch caused a sensation somewhere deep inside her body. "What is it?" she whispered. "Your life flower, my sweet, my, but you are a delectable morsel." His mouth closed over her left nipple, suckling until her back arched. "My flower? What do you mean?" He sighed, leaning back with an expression of mild tolerance on his face. "Every human has a life flower. Some are small and colorless. Some are shriveled and never blossom full, and some—like yours—burst forth with color and light. Yours is the brightest I've ever seen." She smiled, humming softly with pleasure when his palm grazed her right breast. "Does that mean I'm special?" "You, my lady fair, are the most special of all—a rare blossom to be savored with great care and patience." His fingers closed over her nipple, twirling it gently and stoking the fire burning in her center. She moaned again, trying to move closer to his hand. He cupped the other breast with his free hand, taking the nipple in his mouth once more. His tail pushed her legs farther apart, stroked her thighs and belly. Then a fourth appendage—his unusual phallus perhaps—made circular trails along the inside of one thigh. But all her energy was concentrated in the fire ignited by his mouth. He pulled harder on the nipple, as if he could suck her very soul from it. The sensation bordered on pain, but the pleasure was enough to make her insane. The flower at the end of the bed glowed brighter with the shower of sparks nearly continual. "Your energy is pure," he said. She opened her eyes to find him hovering a scant few inches above her. His wings made a slight humming sound, his hands roaming at will over her flesh. Then he reached out, allowing the flower's sparks to land in his palm. His tongue was reptilian with a forked tip. It was something which barely registered as he lapped at the glowing sparks in his hand. His expression when he tasted the sparks was one of pure ecstasy. She frowned in confusion, but soon forgot about it when his tail curled about her breast and massaged it. His hands pulled her knees up, his head dipping low. That amazing tongue darted over the wet flesh of her lower lips, lapping up her juices in almost desperate fashion. He pushed her knees up to her chest and allowed his long, powerful tail to imprison them there, thoroughly exposing her to his mouth. His hands stroked lower, his fingernails leaving red marks on the flesh of her pinioned thighs. It was too late to notice how little spiders had woven threads over her out-stretched arms, effectively restraining them. She tried to kick them off when they moved to her ankles, fashioning silken ropes that they affixed to the wood posts at the head of the bed. She was completely trapped. It was a hard battle she fought against the delicious pleasure stirred by his mouth. She began to struggle, tried to wiggle away from him only to hear his careless chuckle. He rose above her, watching as she struggled in vain, but struggle she did. His now-free tail lashed out, delivering a stinging blow to her exposed ass. She cried out, tears stinging her eyes. "You're mine now, little human. I will do with you what I please, and you will drown in the pleasure." To punctuate his words, he reached between her trapped knees and pinched one erect nipple. The sensation was icy-hot, drawing another moan from her lips. The flower erupted in another shower of sparks, casting a bright glow over the entire room. A parade of naked faeries flew in; each carrying what appeared to be empty walnut shells. Each of his touches brought another profusion of sparks, tiny embers to be collected by the leering troupe. They could see her, snicker, do as they pleased and she could do nothing to protect herself. Still, there was the pleasure he ignited. He dropped low again, his tongue slithering over her hardened clit. She cried out as the faeries giggled and went about their task. When she opened her mouth again, his tail darted in, filling it to the point of gagging. And his tongue worked on, curling around her clit, squeezing, pinching. He pulled so hard on it, she feared it would come off, but the pleasure was unbelievable. When he pulled his tail from her throat, she screamed again. One of the watching faeries whispered something to her neighbor and they laughed together. Circe had never known such humiliation. One faerie, a male of smaller stature than Oberon, reached out a hand to pinch her nipples. When she cried out in protest, Oberon's tail lashed her ass again, bringing another round of laughter from the gathered faeries. The tormenting faerie returned to his task of collecting embers and left her to her fate. Oberon's mouth was relentless, taking her to the point of climax before backing off again. She begged for release and was rewarded with another swat of his tail. One finger entered her, finding the most tender of spots as it moved around. He followed it with a second and a third until his entire narrow hand was inside her pussy. The shower became blinding, bringing a joyful cry from the audience. They sang her name in unison, a further humiliation to her already horrendous predicament. She was going to explode if he didn't stop. Then he entered her ass with a single finger while his miraculous tongue pulled hard on her clit. The explosion came with a river of fiery embers that covered the floor and filled the air. Her body convulsed so hard she tore one ankle loose, allowing her foot to come down and conk Oberon on top of the head. Again she was rewarded with the stinging lash of his tail, but she was past caring. The faeries cheered, the room filled to capacity with their naked bodies. They scooped up glowing embers, carrying them out the door in huge loads. Suddenly, Oberon pulled way, leaving her empty and shuddering on the bed. Her arms and legs were freed, but only for a minute. She soon found herself suspended above the bed, spread-eagle for all to see. The imps reappeared, rubbing her flesh with more of the warm oil and pouring pink liquid into her mouth. After such an orgasm, she thought her body would need time to recover, but already she was on fire again. Fresh secretions from her pussy dribbled over the crack of her ass. "Now, my little human, you shall truly be mine." Oberon hovered upright between her open thighs. His fingers pinched her nipples, while his nimble cock stroked her sensitive clit. Then he thrust hard, sending his cock deep into her sodden pussy. It swelled and expanded until she thought it would tear her in two. The thing moved about inside her, twisting, turning, driving her to the point of insanity. His tail assaulted her from behind, driving into her ass. She had never been one to enjoy anal play, but this was something different. It was near pain, but the sensations of ecstasy overrode it. Soon she was screaming again, her body convulsing every time she came near to orgasm. He would stop, allowing her to come down a little before pushing her to the edge once more. His agile fingers weren't idle either, teasing her nipples and her clit, stroking her inflamed flesh and punishing her with little swats. The crowd cheered on, gathering the sparks from her tired flower. When she was finally allowed to climax, it was so powerful she feared the tree would catch fire from the embers spewing forth. She convulsed hard, her body arching against the tether of webs. His cock continued to pound her pussy, his tail driving deeper into her ass until all was darkness. She was unsure if the fire in her flower had died and left them without illumination, or if she had lost consciousness. Whatever it was, when she opened her eyes again, the room was dimly lit and she was lying unbound on the bed. Every movement was excruciating, her muscles crying out in protest after such activity. With great difficulty, she raised her head and judged herself to be alone. She managed to sit up, saw her life flower at the foot of the bed. It looked sad, like a flower left in a vase too long. The petals drooped, the glow hardly more than the flicker of a candle. Her mind filled with fear—not of the unknown world she had entered, but of what would happen if the flower died. Would she die too? It took great effort to swing her rubbery legs off the bed, and even more effort to stand. She fell back on the bed, biting her lip against the moan that threatened to surface. Again, she hauled herself to her feet and forced herself to remain upright. On a toadstool table lay several items, including a small pot of the rich, pink liquid the imps had been pouring down her throat. She poured a cup, her thirst crying out to be slaked. After one great gulp, though, her body began to heat once more. Despite all she'd been through, she was wet with desire again. It was a vile drug, she decided. It had been her undoing, so she dumped the contents of the pot on the floor. Hunger gnawed at her insides. She saw what appeared to be a grape the size of a melon. Beside it was a blade of sorts. She used it to slice off a chunk of fruit and then she sniffed at something that looked like cheese. For good measure, she took a tiny bite, finding it to be very cheese-like indeed. But it wasn't like any cheese she had eaten before. It was far more delectable and each bite she took gave her more strength. After she washed it down with the juice and pulp of the grape, she decided to find a way to escape. As she neared the doorway, she heard voices. One voice was feminine, angry and harsh. The other was Oberon's. Circe hid behind the wall to listen. "You'll use her up, you fool," the female said. "You could make her last for months and feed the entire colony until the next year of the cicada." "I know what I'm doing, Mother," Oberon said. "It was just one session and you saw how much dust it produced. She's a veritable fountain of lust and energy. I could milk her until the flower dries up and dies and it will be enough to sustain us." "I felt that way too, and we nearly starved to death." "That's because you let the man escape. Then you had to punish him. You'd be better off reversing the curse and using him until he dies." "He was mine to punish," Oberon's mother declared. "It amuses me to see him splashing about in the pond like the bottom feeder he is." "And you let his light go to waste while the kingdom dwindled. Lucky for you my sister was able to find someone more compliant the next time. Without her, we surely would have died. She was a strong little human, lasted almost a year. Mine will last longer." "I saw the girl's flower, my son. It's fading. Let her rebuild her strength." "You worry too much, Mother." The female sighed. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about her having the vigor to escape before sundown. Once night falls, she'll be trapped for thirteen years, if she lives that long." Circe clamped a hand over her mouth to silence a startled cry. "Fine, I'll let her rest for a while, if it pleases you, Mother." Oberon's voice seemed to be drifting away. "But I shall decide the best way to deal with her. With her energy, it will be a long time before the flower withers and dies." Peeking around the edge of the opening, Circe saw Oberon flying away with a naked female beside him. Now was her chance. She had to get away. As she thought about the conversation she'd overheard, she tried to make sense of it. Were they actually talking about killing her? If her life flower died, wouldn't that mean she would die? And what was this business about being trapped after sundown? They were going to keep her prisoner and murder her with bondage and sex. She decided there had to be some way out of this mess. And she would have to move quickly. Judging by the angle of the sun, she only had a few hours left; if it was true she only had until sundown. But should she do something about her flower? What if she were to leave it and the faeries decided to destroy it? She would be killed. With great care, she walked in a circle around the flower. Its petals seemed a bit brighter than before. Perhaps the food she'd taken had helped to restore it. Gingerly cupping her hands around the blossom, she felt a strange rush of energy. Taking it from where it hovered, she started toward the door and froze in her tracks when she heard Oberon's voice. "Tell the council I'll be along, Mother. I need to get the scepter." His scepter? From what she saw of his attack on the catfish, the scepter was his source of power. If she found it first, she could carry it away with her. It might give her the edge she needed to get away. She glanced around, almost shrieking in delight when she discovered its resting place. It appeared suspended by the air of a small nook in the far corner. If she'd known more of faeries and their lore, she would've known that to touch the prince's scepter would mean certain death for a mere mortal. But she didn't know the rules. She snatched it up and looked for a hiding place. The thing was nearly as long as her body, but hardly weighed anything. She made for the shadows behind the bed. The shadows were illuminated, though, by the glow of her flower—and her hand burned where she clutched the prince's scepter. She wanted to drop it and save what was left of her appendage, but she couldn't. Her fingers would not release it. The fire spread upward along her arm, farther still to her entire body. "What have you done?" she heard Oberon yell. He was standing before her crouching body, his face a mask of rage. When he reached for her, she cried out and shrank away. "No. Don't touch me!" A stream of light poured from the scepter, hitting Oberon square in the chest. He flew back against the far wall, lying in the carpet of cottonwood down like ragdoll. Pulling himself to his knees, he fixed her with a killing glare. "It's not possible," he said. "You should be dead." "Why?" "It's your energy," he said. "It's as strong as the fey. That's it, isn't it?" "What the hell are you talking about?" Oberon climbed to his feet, pain showing in his face with each movement. "The scepter—you touched it. You wielded its magic. Any other mortal would be burned alive, but you command its power. You should be dead." "I'm alive," she spat back. "I'm alive and I'm going to stay that way. I heard what you said. You're planning to fuck me to death so you and those other demons can feed on my energy. No fucking way! Circe is out!" She blasted him again with pink fire and ran past, clutching the scepter under her arm while cradling the flower in one hand. Darting through the door, she nearly collided with the giant cicada. It buzzed so loudly at her; she nearly dropped her prizes to cover her ears. As it was, she stumbled over the edge of the tree branch and landed squarely on the one below. She had a moment to look down, cringing at the distance to the ground. "If only I had an elevator," she whispered. In a fiery rush of energy from the scepter, the branches around her began to shake and shimmy. Vines moved of their own accord, slithering along the branches, weaving together to form a basket. She jumped in just as the buzzing cicada landed on the branch where she once stood. Pointing the scepter at the giant bug, she yelled, "Go away," sending the creature hurtling high into the sky. She lost sight of it in the tree limbs overhead just as the basket began to descend. Song of the Magicicada "Hurry up, will you?" The basket of vines dropped so fast she almost flew out, but when she neared the ground, it slowed and settled gently on the moss. She bounded from the makeshift elevator, chancing a glance over her shoulder to see a large swarm of faeries headed her way. They looked more angry than she cared to deal with. She waved the golden scepter, sending a gust of wind that scattered them into the woods. Then she ran. At the top of a rise, she could see the sparkle of late afternoon sunshine glinting from the water. The pool might as well be on the other side of the world. She would never be able to run fast enough to get there in time. The sun was already too low. "You there," she called to brightly colored finch. "I'm getting out of here and you're going to help. Take me to the water." She waved the scepter and the bird complied. It landed beside her, allowing her to climb on its back before it took flight. It landed near the falls. "Thank you," she said as the bird flew away. The rock upon which she stood was not so tall. She would be able to jump to the water from there, but the tunnel to her home world was another matter. It was not likely the rainbow fish would be willing to help her escape. Her only hope was the catfish, but what if he truly meant to eat her? As if summoned by her thoughts, the giant fish surfaced below her. He looked up at her, waiting for what, she didn't know. "I wish you could talk," she said. The pink stone in the end of the scepter glowed again. The great fish opened his enormous mouth, stretching it wide to emit a tiny sound. The voice was human. He snapped his jaws shut once more, the look of confusion in his eyes giving way to relief. "I can't believe it." His words had the sound of rusty hinges to them, with a faint brogue reminiscent of Sean Connery. "Finally, a chance to tell that witch what I think of her for doing this to me." "What are you talking about?" Circe demanded. "The faerie queen—the witch left me like this so long ago, I nearly forgot what it was like to be human." "You mean you weren't always a fish?" "No, lass, I'm a man, a human man. I wanted to warn you about coming here." "If you knew what a bad place this was, why did you bring me?" "I didn't. Those fish henchmen did, if you recall. I only helped when I saw you were about to drown." "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning low over the water. "I was hoping you could help me get away, but I guess I should turn you back into a man." "Don't be daft. If we're both human, we'll never get out of here. You just bring that magic stick with you and we'll get back to normal on the other side." Then he turned his head as if to see her better. "Whatcha got in that other hand, lass?" "My life flower, that's what they called it. I think its dying." "Just as I thought, you let that prince fella have his way with ya, huh?" Her chin shot up defensively. "It's not like I had a choice. They tied me up!" The fish shook his great head, "Can't abide anyone forcing himself on a woman. Whatcha plan to do with it?" "Take it with me, of course." "You can't, lass. It will die in the human world, and so will you. You have to hide it so they don't find it again. And while you're at it, hide mine, too. I'd consider it a great favor." "Where is it?" "Under that ledge, yonder." The catfish jerked his head in the general direction of small ledge. "The witch put it there, just beyond my reach, wanted to make sure I knew she could do me in any time she wished, the temptress." It took a few minutes for Circe to climb over rocks to where his life flower was hiding. When she saw it, she marveled at how like her own it was. Though larger than hers, its purple was nearly as deep in hue, but the tips were tinged in bright yellow. Beyond those small differences, it was a lily, not unlike her own. She wondered if all human life flowers were lilies. "Get it quick, lass." Her hands were full. How was she going to take both flowers away? "I don't know what to do." "Well, do something. If you don't hurry, it'll be too late. We only got until sundown, then the door will close for another thirteen years." "I know what to do," she said. "Whatcha got in mind?" "We're going to hide it in plain sight. They can't take what they can't get to, right? I'll encase both of them in glass that not even their faerie magic can break." "How you gonna do that?" "I can make this scepter do anything I want." She waved it at the flowers, telling the wand to create an alcove in the rocks behind the waterfall. The flowers floated into place and she waved the scepter again. A shower of clear crystals rose from the bottom of the pool, forming a wall in front of the lilies. "Let no magic penetrate this wall and a curse on any who try." A jet of pink flames sealed the crystals in place. "I sure hope this works," he said. "It will. I have faith. I wonder if I can take the scepter with me." "We'll soon find out," the fish said. "Better jump on my back, lass. They're a-comin'." Circe had failed to notice the growing song of the cicada. She looked to the skies; saw the clouds of insects and faeries. They blocked the fading sun, casting shadow where the shade of trees didn't reach. Gripping tightly to the scepter, she dove to the water below. The catfish swam beneath her, lifting her up for a breath of air. A rain of fireballs zipped toward her, one narrowly missing her head. The fish pulled her under as she clung to his dorsal fin. He swam furiously for the cave as bolts of pure energy pierced the water. The force of water dragged at her hair and body, tearing her grip loose from his fin. She slid from his back, falling through water as air escaped her lungs. From nowhere, the two colorful fish arrived. They were on her in a second, driving her deeper into the water. She tried for the surface, only to find herself tossed back down again. She was weakening, starved of oxygen, desperate to breathe. The big catfish saved her again, his great mouth gaping wide and barely missing one of the hench-fish. With the other two scattering, he took Circe in his mouth, gingerly lifting her for a breath. She gasped and gagged, clutching at one of his whiskers. In her free hand, she still held the scepter, something she marveled at after such an attack. Through the trees she could see the bright hues of pink and gold, cast by the setting sun. "We don't have much time." Her voice was almost as rough as that of the catfish. He grunted a warning at her and released her in the water. "We go now," he said. With a swish of his tail, he sprayed a column of water at the approaching faeries. "Get on my back, and this time hang on." Taking three hard breaths in rapid succession, she held the third and grabbed his dorsal fin again. He raced through the water, taking them deeper into the darkening pool. Unfortunately, the rainbow-colored fish had regrouped. They chased after the two, trying to block their escape. The catfish proved to be too big for them. He barreled through them, sending them spinning into the darkness below. He was going too fast, nearly slamming her head into the roof of the cave. Circe glanced back to find no light behind her and realized the cave was closing. If they didn't hurry, they would be entombed. The catfish swam on, aiming for the scant light ahead. He dodged shadows of rock, causing her to lurch on his back and almost lose her grip. She held the scepter up, imagined light coming from its glowing pink stone and illuminated the shrinking cavern. The scepter was smaller in her hand. Looking down, she could see the fish was half the size he was before. He was struggling with the burden of her on his back. Still gripping his fin, she slid off, kicking her feet to aid his efforts. He continued to shrink until he was a quarter the size of her body. Her trip through the cave was returning her to her normal size. She was forced to release the still-sizable catfish lest he tire and be unable to escape. They swam side-by-side as she continued to grasp the dwindling scepter, using its light to guide the way. Her lungs burned and it occurred to her the amount of air she'd taken before entering the cave did not expand with her growing body. It was not enough to carry her. With a finally desperate burst of energy, she passed the catfish and broke free of the cave. Kicking furiously, she made it to the surface and the sweet air above. "Home," she whispered between gasping breaths. Indeed, everything here was its normal size. Cicadas still flitted about, but they weren't swarming as before. Her favorite perch beckoned, easily accessible with her normal-sized body. She pulled herself out of the water, lying on the rock like a beached whale, unable to move until she recovered. "Feeling better?" The voice belonged to the catfish, its rich brogue somehow thicker than before. She rolled to her side to see her new friend smiling up at her. She smiled back, offering thanks for his daring rescue. "Much better, thank you. I'll never be able to repay you." "You can repay me by giving me back me legs," he said as splashed water at her. "I want to feel the earth beneath me feet once more." She gasped, hauling herself up to a sitting position. "Of course! I'm so sorry. I nearly forgot." She stood on shaky legs, holding up the scepter, which was now about the size of a pencil. "I wish you were your natural form. Uh, change back to the man you once were." There was the now-familiar tingle of energy as the little wand began to glow. The fish was alight with glowing particles, his body lifting slightly before sinking to the bottom of the pond. Circe dropped to her knees to peer into the water. She couldn't see him in the last rays of the sunset. Waiting was interminable. She refused to move from her post as her tired flesh began to shiver despite the still-warm spring night. Her teeth were chattering by the time she caught sight of something in the water. It was something white, as pristine as new snow, rising to the surface less swiftly than she would have liked. She was afraid the man was too tired, too weak to make it. Just as she was about to plunge in after him, he broke through the water with a growl. He splashed her face and shoulders, causing the chill to grow. He barely made it to the great rock, falling beside her to gasp his first breaths of pure air. He was a startling sight. His long hair was pure white, his face partially covered in a sparse beard and mustache as long and white as his hair. His face, although rugged and handsome, showed age, but how old it was impossible to tell. It wasn't wrinkled and lined, but weathered by sun and years. His body was one a young man would envy—strong, lean and sinewy, much like the fish's had been. As her vision explored lower, she snapped her attention back to his face in embarrassment. The old man was sporting an erection that nearly had her mouth watering. It had to be the drug the faeries had fed her, she decided. That last swallow she'd taken had left her wanting. Soon it would subside, or at least she hoped it would. Then her thoughts turned to his unusual facial hair. It brought a giggle to her throat when she realized how like catfish whiskers it was. She wondered if the mustache was as sensitive. Again she laughed. "What's so funny, lass?" he asked. "You still look like a catfish," she said. Her grin was infectious. He lifted a strand of facial hair and laughed. "It's good to be human again. I hope me legs still work." He took a long look at her. "You're shiverin', child. Come snuggle up to me and we'll get warm together." When she cast a pointed glance at his protruding cock, he grinned again and sat up. He did his best to hide his predicament, but finally gave up trying. "I'm afraid it's a lost cause, lass," he said. "It's been a long time since I had the chance to gaze upon womanly beauty. He's ready to show his mettle. I still know the feel of your naked body against me back." She laughed again. "I'm not offended. It might be the strange drugs they fed me, or maybe it's the thought of a real human man beside me, but . . ." The man wrapped an arm about her shoulders, briskly rubbing her arms with his other hand. He looked about the area as if to assure himself he was really there. "It looks much the same," he said. Then he spied a towering elm. "What year is it?" "2011." He was silent a moment, his face clouded by a shadow of sadness. "Thirty-nine years . . . The bitch held me prisoner thirty-nine years. The elm yonder was a mere sapling then. Everything I know is gone. My wife, my children . . ." Circe finally set the glowing scepter down. Its warm light still illuminated the air between them as she lifted a hand to his face. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can make the scepter reverse time or something." "That's something even the little people could'na do, lass." He stared in her eyes for a long moment before moving her hand down, stopping at the lower contours of his lean belly. "If you'd be willing, though, I'd find comfort in you." She smiled, her body heating at the thought. "If you're asking me to have sex with you, I should warn you, they fed me something that makes me wild." "Ah, the pink grog . . . I remember it well." He smiled as her hand touched his straining cock. He let out a small growl before capturing her fingers in his. "Only if you're willin'. After what they did to you, I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with me." She was fairly purring when she brought her eyes up to his again. "I think it's because of what they did to me. I feel so alive and free." He released her hand, grazed a knuckle down her cheek as she closed her fingers over his cock again. Suddenly he frowned as she stared into his eyes. "You're eyes remind me of me sweet wife. Hers were as blue as yours, and her hair as dark . . . What's your name, lass?" "Circe, Circe Gregor. What's yours?" His once-proud cock shriveled in her hand. He jerked way from her. "And your father, what name did he go by?" She returned his frown, confusion clouding her mind. "His name is Aedan Gregor. What's wrong?" "Aedan Gregor, Jr.?" "Well, he dropped the "junior" after his father went missing almost forty . . . How long did you say you'd been gone?" The man stumbled to his feet, putting as much distance between them as he could without falling off the boulder. "Lord and saints preserve us. Cover yerself girl. I canna look upon ye." "It can't be true." She buried her face in her hands. He was facing away from her, refusing to look her direction again. "I know your father. I knew him the minute he came screaming into this world. The bairn was me own son, damn it!" Circe rose to her feet, her mouth open in shock. Hearing the words said aloud made it all the more dirty. "Grandpa? You're my grandfather?" She looked about for something, anything, to cover her body. "Oh, my God! I almost . . . We almost . . . Ew! Oh, my God!" "Stop your caterwauling. We need clothing, anything . . ." She snatched the little wand from the ground, waving it frantically. In her desperation, she created a large pile of assorted clothing, none of which fit properly. She couldn't get it on quickly enough, couldn't cover herself sufficiently to take away what had almost happened between her and her long-missing grandfather. When she was done, she leapt off the rock and turned her back. She could hear him rustling around behind her, knew he was dressing as frantically as she had. "Feh!" he yelled. "Confounded shirt, never knew it was so hard to button up." The humor of the situation suddenly struck Circe. A peal of outrageous laughter bubbled from her lips, much to Grandpa's consternation. She continued to laugh until tears spilled from her eyes. He was not amused. Fully clothed, he stood before her until her maniacal giggles subsided. With a grave expression on his face, he clasped his hands behind his back. "We shall ne'er speak of this again," he said, his voice quiet and grim. She lost it once more, erupting in fits of laughter that caused her to fall back against the boulder. He gave her time to compose herself. "I'm sorry," she said between hiccups. "It's funny. You have to admit, this is funny." "I'm only glad me poor wife will never have to know, God rest her." Circe sobered. "Grandma's alive. Why would you think she's dead?" Aedan's eyes misted. "Can it be? Ah, but she probably remarried, thinking her husband long dead." "No, she didn't. She's been pining, waiting for you to return for nearly forty years. She's still young, healthy and beautiful. She always took care of herself, said you would come back one day and she wanted to look her best. Faith, she always had faith. Come to think of it, she always said you'd been carried off by elves. I guess she wasn't too far off. Would you like to see her?" He swiped at a single tear and nodded. "Aye, that I would. Do you think she'll recognize me?" "We'll soon see," she said, laughing. Slipping an arm through his, she led the way toward home. "She'll probably go after you with clippers and a pair of scissors, but she'll know you the minute she sees you. If we hurry, we'll still catch her at Mom and Dad's. It's likely they're still cleaning up from my birthday party. I think next year I'll actually attend." He pulled to a halt, turning to look her in the eye. "You're birthday, eh? Happy birthday, Granddaughter. It was a blessed day you came into the world. Thank you for bringing an old man home." "My pleasure, Gramps." She grabbed his hand as she slipped the faerie wand into her shirt pocket. "Gram's gonna shit a blue bean when she sees you. Let's get you home." * I hope you had fun reading this little story. Your vote and your feedback are greatly appreciated. ~Molly Wens