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Faeophobia: Magic's Hour Pt. 01

By: JediRockstar



Faeophobia: Magic's Hour

Author's Note: I'd like to thank XXXecil for the creation of such vivid worlds, and for his unique openness towards other authors playing in them. I've been a fan for a number of years, and this is my contribution to a great body of work. I only hope I do it justice. I believe he's taking commissions now, if you ever have an idea you'd like to see developed but simply don't have the time, I recommend getting in touch with him.

I'm just getting started as a writer, so please, if you have any feedback, don't be hesitant to share!

Part 1

Los Angeles, California

From a plush chair in the penthouse office atop the headquarters of Arand incorporated, Richard Roark mused. There was trouble on the horizon. Arand, his company, had been a mid-sized pharmaceutical company prior to the Celestial Conjunction. When the stars aligned and magic returned to the Earth, along with the various Fae races, he had seen potential and acted.

The spiteful and the racist reinvented themselves as Faeophobic, and the 24 hour news channels were clogged with amateur pundits and angry partisans all trying to scare their audiences into agreeing that the end was nigh. Popular sentiment turned against the unearthly immigrants, the common perception being that they were an undue burden on the human race. In the end, Roark had been proven right. Less than two months post-Conjunction, the R&D boys at Arand had harnessed Fae magic to develop enhanced products unlike anything the human race had ever before conceived.

Magi-Care Industries was the name of the Arand subsidiary Roark created to run the patents through. The curses and hexes patented under the Magi-Care brand could destroy all manner of infections. There were glamors and youth serums patented that could slow and, in some cases, even reverse ageing. Initial consumer reaction was tepid, until Roark himself gave a press conference looking like Adonis. At least 40 years younger and lithely muscled under a fitted golf shirt, people everyone conveniently forgot their prior mistrust. Even the most staunchly xenophobic politicians had to reinvent their platforms as the public en masse bought what magic was selling.

The second generation of Magi-Care products came soon after, things like lipophage pills that cured obesity and protective charms to ward off surreptitious Fae trickery. Arand, Inc. quickly became one of the world's largest corporations; rivals either adopted their business model or went extinct. When the third wave of Magi-Care products were ready for safety testing, the FDA had rubber stamped them before they arrived.

Hygiene products were just the opening salvo. A mystical weapons division, developed under the Arand subsidiary Magi-Corp, was Roark's next step. Mystical barriers for soldiers, magically-enhanced technology and weaponry, a combat division staffed by human and Fae soldiers, all of it came with no-bid contracts. There simply were no other companies that could rival Arand's expertise in thaumaturgy, the study and practice of spells, and mage-eneering, the grafting of those spells to real-world applications. Five years after the celestial conjunction, the profit margins of Arand, Incorporated rivalled a small nation! Once an unremarkable company, Roark took full credit for its transformation into the world's largest transnational entity. By his estimation, it doubled as a metaphor of the changes in humanity that accompanied the return of magic.

Always a wary businessman, Roark had commissioned the biggest brains in R&D to figure out where the energy for this magic was coming from. Magic flaunted the laws of science rather flagrantly, but all this energy still had to come from somewhere. Specifically, he wanted to know if there would be any negative costs to magic use. He wasn't shy about externalizing costs -- you couldn't run a profitable company without passing the buck on some things, whether it be pollution, disease, or whatever -- but he just wanted to know what it was. Three years and nearly a billion dollars in research later, he'd gotten his answer. There's no such thing as a free lunch went the old business axiom. When he was informed of the gravity of the situation, Roark set plans in motion to be gone before the cheque came.

His musing was interrupted by the Veela between his legs, a paragon of Eastern European beauty whose divine looks would have, in ages past, inspired master painters and driven poets mad. She was currently holding Roark's cock to his stomach so that she could better suckle his testicles. Her name was Yania, and she was his secretary in name and his personal wench in practice. Still fully clothed in the formal business-wear he'd paid to have tailored to her rather exaggerated feminine shape, she massaged his balls with her tongue in an attempt to coax more sperm from the fleshy eggs. Her eyes closed in quiet determination, she sucked and lapped at the genitalia in her mouth for the only prize he'd ever seen her desire: sperm, and as much of it as she could get.

He'd fucked the sprightly blonde Fae thoroughly over the past few hours and, having emptied a solid pint of genetic material into her various orifices, he was content to muse while she pleasured him. It's a good world, he thought to himself. Too bad it can't last.

If Arand was a metaphor for humanity, Yania would be a metaphor for the Fae: once strong-willed and self-possessed, now a sex-puppet for a human male. She began rubbing his cock as she sucked, an edge of desperation apparent from her motions. "Please... mmmmmmphhh... just a leettle more mmmmmPAH! ...cum, I'll do anyzing! ...shhhhhluck just a leettle more, plees Mr. Roark..." she said, her thick Slavic accent blurring her words into her grunts.

He smirked when the Veela maid gazed up at him. The desperation in her eyes matched the rest of her. "You want more?" he asked. She nodded. The nipples of her massive, EE-cup breasts stiffened in anticipation, tenting her blouse.

"You know what you have to do."

She gave a hesitant nod, lowered her head, and chanted softly into his testicles. Motes of light sparkled in the room as the spell began reshaping reality. Roark felt a familiar tingle before his balls began to grow.

And grow. And grow. And grow! First they swelled upwards, but quickly they became so large and sperm-filled that they hung comically off his chair. Yania's spell had added least a gallon of cum to his reserves -- but the magically-enhanced seminal fluid came with a terrible lust.

Madness took him and Roark threw his Fae "secretary" (whore!!! he thought) onto his desk and plunged cock-deep into sweet Faerie snatch. "Take it, take my cock you Fae bitch!" he yelled into the air. Yania just screamed in pleasure and fucked him back. Twelve inches of enchanted cock filled her mind with white light and her pussy with edged ecstasy.

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!" She cried to the ceiling. Twin white legs, perfectly sculpted like the art of a renaissance master, wrapped around Roark's back, encouraging him mate to fuck his mate harder. The heels of her eight-hundred dollar business pumps dug into his flesh, preventing any sort of escape. Not that he'd want to, rutting away in this Fae's pussy was always the highlight of his day.

Girl-cum sprayed from her pulsating pussy with every thrust. "Harder, HARDER!!" she demanded. Her partner obeyed; grabbing her hair at the nape of her neck and wrapping his other arm around her impossibly thin waist, he picked up his little slut and fucked her standing.

"Tell me who's slut you are," he said into her ear.

Eyes rolled into her head, eyelids flickering. She didn't answer.

"Tell me!!" he screamed at her.

"Your slut," she whispered. She even moans in Russian, fuck that is hot, Roark thought.

Holding her at the top his cock (tiny though she was, she was now eye level with him, such was the size of his shaft), he asked, "Who's slut are you?"

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and Yania became hysterical. The lust had taken her! In times like this, there was nothing an Faerie girl wouldn't say or do now to get a thick slab of man-meat back where it belonged: inside her.

"I'm your SLUT! I'm your COCK-WHORE!," she bucked her hips at the tip of his dick trying to get it in, to no avail. "I need zat beeg fucking DICK of yours, please! I'm your SLAVE! Your CUM-DUMPSTER! Just GIFF ME YOUR CO-aaaaaahhhhhhck!!!" Roark fucked her as hard as he could, sweat flying as they collided.

Before even he knew he was cumming, the little Fae whore was on her knees, cock slipping down her throat, her nose pressed to his stomach. The orgasm hit Roark like, like... a tsunami... like an atom bomb... like the fist of God. He tried to compare the feeling to anything, but the orgasm forced the air out his lungs and mind into oblivion. More sperm than even the spell could account for, nearly a gallon in all, spurted from the tip of his cock straight into Yania's stomach. As her insides filled with semen, Roark thought for a second she... she was pregnant! But no, it was simply a food-baby, her stomach unable to contain the volume of cum he was feeding her.

Yania's crystal blue eyes coruscated with the euphoria that only addicts know. The bliss of the fix. Благодарение Богу! <God, yes!> she thought.

She managed "Ugh, Gahh, yaathh..." from around the salami-sized object in her airway.

Roark had met his future concubine after a performance of Giselle in St. Petersburg. She had been a member of the prestigious Mariinsky ballet company, about half of which was comprised of Veela at that point. The Slavic faeries were avian in nature, which gave them preternatural lightness and grace that human dancers could never hope to match. After the great migration of Fae, dance studious around the world had been quick to snatch them up. Many companies ended up regretting their choice; Veela were just as lusty and frivolous as other Faerie races. Too many Fae in one studio and more often than not the studio would dissolve. You just couldn't practice for hours when the only dance the performers wanted to do was the horizontal mambo.

When the Veela did choose to perform for a human audience, though, it was a wondrous spectacle to behold. Yania, being a swan Faerie, was famed even among her people for her skills as a dancer.

Roark had been smitten after watching her perform, so he'd paid to have her abducted. His best thaumaturgists had wrought spells and curses upon her so that she would be chemically dependant on his semen. This was much to Yania's initial displeasure, but after a few months of sexual submissiveness she started to enjoy herself. Even the semen addiction was a fun twist. If she had known what a mosquito bite was, she would have thought it similar to scratching one every time Roark came down her throat.

When he was sure she was a full addict and not likely to flee, Roark had set Yania up at Arand with a job as his secretary. That way, should he ever have need of her particular services, she wouldn't be far.

Yania now held her bloated stomach in her hands, as if to cradle the gift of sperm she'd been given. She spontaneously shuddered in orgasm from the temporary relief it gave her from her addiction.

She let the phallus slip out her throat and held it in her mouth, a few spurts dripping onto her tongue. She would have said, "Thank you, sir," if she still possessed the mental capacity to speak, which she didn't. The relief Yania felt was so intensely satisfying that her hyperbolic body spasmed in small, epileptic fits.

Roark caught his breath while his paramour came down from her high. Her mental acuity returning, she swished the remaining semen around in her mouth like a connoisseur, enjoying the subtleties of her mate's taste. Like most of the Veela, she had been trained since youth in the Fae Fine Arts, and so was an expert semen-taster. She could discern near everything about a man's physical health and diet from his the taste of his spunk.

"How vas zee steak last night?" Yania asked. She absentmindedly wiped up a few stray rivulets of semen from her business jacket and put them in her mouth.

Roark laughed and sat back into his seat. "Not bad, though not quite what I ordered."

The blonde tart thought about the taste of the cum in her mouth for a second. "Mmm, a leettle more rare than you normally order. Anton was zee chef last night, I'll haff vords vis him."

"It does giff your sperms a neyes aftertaste, zough," she added with a smile.

Roark smiled back. "Glad you enjoy. Always nice to get feedback from a connoisseur." He slunk as a sweaty mass into his expensive leather chair. "Well, on that note, I think I can say our meeting is concluded. Thank you for your assistance, Yania."

"I'll be at my desk if you haff any more... soughts on zee matter," she said in a purr. After standing, Yania fought to tuck her blouse in around her sperm gut. Roark thought of the genetic material of his that was currently swishing around inside her. That should keep her happy for a while, he thought. Voluminous blonde hair, svelte legs, a thin waist, pointed ears that projected at least 6 inches from her head, massive breasts on a tiny frame, all framed by a bloated belly... it made for an odd combination of features. Somehow it looked sexy on his secretary (whore, he thought again). Roark took a moment to watch the Veela's ass bounce and jiggle as she exited the office.

Back to business, he thought. Clothes might be good for that. He towelled off and began to dress, staring off into the Los Angeles skyline. It was night, but the skyscrapers of downtown L.A. illuminated the surrounding switchboard of city lights like candles on a cake. Beyond city limits, the San Gabriel mountains became ominous shadows in the unnatural glow.

The minutes melted away until finally it was nine o'clock, at which point the teleconference screen behind Roark's desk turned itself on with no apparent intervention. The face on the screen belonged to United States Vice President Frank O'Connor. The balding man stared through the screen with his signature expression: an abusive father's cold anger mixed with the indignation one feels at having stepped in shit. Holy hell, Roark thought, he's the Great and Terrible Oz. He had to cough to suppress a chuckle.

The VP boomed right along like he didn't notice. "'Evening, Roark. I've been asked by the board to get an update on the Project. First I'll need your clearance code," he said. In the days of magic, identity theft was taken to a whole new level. Since corporate spies could now drink potions to assume the appearance of CEO's and heads of state, a myriad of precautions were necessary to the protect even the basic levels of business.

Roark gave the day's code. "Hotel. India, Juliet. Romeo. Alpha."

"Sierra. Lima. Uniform. Tango. Sierra," the VP said back.

"If we're done with pleasantries, I'd like to wrap this up as quickly as possible." Roark started. "Project Hijra is near completion. My thaumaturgists installed the power source today. Barring unforeseen delays, we'll be on schedule for next month."

Richard Roark did not enjoy giving reports like some third-grader in front of the class. As the project approached completion, the insistence on 'status updates' from his government financers only increased in frequency. He was CEO and largest shareholder of the world's largest company, who was this little bureaucrat this he was to talk down to Richard Roark? Sadly, Project Hijra did need financial backing, which was much less noticeable coming from the world's governments instead of its businesses. Which all meant dealing with Vice President O'Connor.

"It'd better be," the choleric politician was already going red in the face. "I don't know how much longer the situation in Florida is going to stay under control. If shit hits the fan, be ready to move early." The bespectacled VP never wavered from his grim appearance. His refusal to use magic to enhance his ugly appearance had been a big hit with pro-Human voters, enough to get him on the ballot as vice president. Roark thought his appearance was noisome, and unnecessary.

"Even if the Florida quarantine fails, Site 18 is completely isolated from civilian populations," Roark said. "I'm sorry for the secrecy of it's location, but I can't take any chance that might compromise the project. You'll be escorted there by my personal staff when we get underway next month." The vice president had known the location of Site 18 for some time and Roark was aware of that fact. He also no doubt knew that Roark knew, but they both spoke as if all secrecy had been maintained. It was the polite thing to do.

"I don't care about any of that shit. Just make sure everything is ready for next week. If it doesn't work, I'll deny all knowledge of it's existence and you'll be arrested for treason."

Roark was irritated again by the man's condescension. Against his better judgement, he imitated a shocked face. "With all the government officials and captains of industry involved? One lone traitor would be a hard sell even for you, Frank. Well, if my patriotism is being questioned, perhaps the president should be informed of the plan? I'm sure Jeb would be delighted for a chance to play with the grown-ups."

Vice President O'Connor scowled, his sole convincing facial expression.

"I want you to schedule my assistant for an inspection of the site next week. Take any precautions you feel necessary, but make it happen. Complete tour of the facility, none of the off-limits bullshit that happened last time. And Roark?"

"Yes, dear?" Now he was just being glib.

"Watch your fucking mouth."

When the onscreen image blinked out of existence, Roark was alone again. Charming man, he thought, I'm going to miss him. The look of having tasted something unpleasant began to fade with the VP's absence. The reflexive sarcasm he felt rise like bile whenever he dealt with public officials faded with it. If I ever get lonely for the experience of Frank O'Connor, he mused, I can always shove my dick in a pencil sharpener.

A button on his desk connected to him to an old-fashioned speaker phone located on Yania's desk.

"Yania, get Feigenbaum on the horn, tell him there's going to be an inspection of the facility next week by our benefactors."

"Yes, sir," a static-laden voice chimed back.

What the hell, he needed a pick-me-up. He pressed the button again. "Actually, before you do that, I've had a few more thoughts on our earlier meeting. Would you join me in the conference room?"

"On my vay, sir," was the response.

He removed his pants and tossed them over his chair. Won't be needing these.

Apalachicola Reserve, Florida

At an isolated rest spot hidden somewhere in the Florida panhandle, three Faerie girls were enjoying a small gang-bang. Professor Lily, a tenured academic who looked for all the world like a nubile, green-haired, vaguely Asian-looking co-ed, was being roughly taken by a group of beefy rednecks. Normally the domination of such a powerful female figure would produce sexist sneers from the men, but they could only grunt in sweaty determination. Such was her power; their worlds had been reduced to the mouth, pussy, and ass of this unearthly beauty.

Lily had paralyzed the entire county of Panama City recently by casting the Infinite Beauty spell along the US-98, resulting in the largest outdoor orgy of the decade. The spell was dangerous, but a colleague at Madison University had hypothesized Lily's adventures on Earth had given her the energy to undergo apotheosis -- the transformation into a Goddess. If true, no spell was off-limits to her. But even gods need rest from time to time, hence the refuelling of her energy with the studs around her.


Faeophobia: Magic's Hour Pt. 01



Rough hands caressed milky white skin, turgid members penetrated every one her orifices, her soft, demure hands wrapped around even more cocks for balance. She was on her knees in between two studs, her toes pushing off the stiff Florida grass to bounce between them. She pulled her face back from short, thick cock she'd been sucking to call to her friends, obscured from view by the men around her.

"Cori? Lisaaaummmp?" The cock was unceremoniously shoved back between her lips, the male attached to it no longer able to control himself. The other two Faerie girls sounded off with loud cries, letting their slutty mentor know they were okay but still busy.

The wiry fellow with the handle-bar moustache and John Deere hat currently probing the well-explored depths of Lily's rectum sped up his pumping to signal it was nearly time. "That's it," the slutty forest nymph managed from around a cock, "Give it to me, boys, give me your all your cum!" The tanned Southern men inside her sped their rhythms, pumping into her pussy, her mouth. "FEED MEEE!" she cried, golden eyes literally aglow. John Deere was the first to go off, filling Lily's bowels with white hot seed, followed closely by the cock in her pussy. Her greedy womb soaked up the liquid love, feasting on the ejaculate and using it to create her next batch of children. The new life beginning within her and the rhythmic throbbing of cocks drove Lily over the edge and into orgasm, the magic flowing out of herself, into the cocks, and rebounding back into her!

It was positive feedback loop of magic, causing all cocks to orgasm again, all at once. Her pussy and ass overflowed, spilling onto the grass beneath her. *SHHHLURP* she couldn't help making obscene noises when she swallowed, it was so tasty! The heavy citrus diet in these Florida natives made for a sweet, spurting treat. The cocks nourished Lily physically, magically, and spiritually, the perfect food for a Fae. Cocks in her hands, and the hands of men waiting their turn, fired their loads near simultaneously, covering her face and upper body in a wash of spunk. Gobs of thick, viscous sperm matted her green hair, feeding the pink flowers that emerged from her scalp.

Lily delighted in the feel of the hot fluid, her keen magical senses allowing her to feel the writhing of each of the trillions of sperm cells that coated her flawless skin. She wanted them all, each of them was precious! Each one of the delightfully squirming cells was a potential offspring and she felt a force even greater than herself, the call of mother nature -- that hormonal pull to make the most of this bounty.

The men around her, already at the limit of their endurance, succumbed to the southern heat and passed out in a on the warm Florida soil, so satisfied from Lily's admonishments that there was no worrying of homo-eroticism. They had proven their manliness in the sloppy cunt, tight ass, and satiating mouth of a true Slut.

No one noticed that where the sexual fluids leaking from Lily's body had landed, a diverse bed of flowers had begun to grow.

Feeling rejuvenated, the tenured professor-cum-giggling forest nymph picked herself up and headed towards her friends, Cori and Lisa. Corona (Cori for short) was a unicorn from the Elysian fields who, unlike most of her kind, preferred to use her shape-shifting abilities to stay in human form. Her Faerie nature still demanded she be ridden, so most of Cori's time was spent ass-up and tits-down, being ploughed doggy-style by some human or another. Who the man was didn't really matter. All that mattered was that a human male was plumbing her fertile depths, seeding her with more young. Lily knew that yearning well.

Lisaelurriel, Lisa to her friends, completed their lubricious trio. She was a pink-haired and precocious pixie who often did questionable things after getting drunk on sperm (which, in extreme quantities, had a narcotic-like effect on pixie physiology). She'd become best friends with Cori after the latter sought her out to learn the truth of the rumor that Lisa, while sperm-drunk, had set out on a quest to screw every guy on campus.

"I'd gotten through over a hundred frat boys before the campus security dragged me to the police station!" the pixie had claimed. "They said I was, 'pregnant and inebriated, a danger to myself and others.' Ha! I was only dangerous to those weird human 'morals'. You wanna know how I got back at them? I had sex with every on-duty police officer that night! Married, single, young, old, I screwed 'em all! I even laid a couple of the lady-cops. Human women aren't so jealous of us when we've got a tongue in their pussy!"

Cori, amazed but not unbelieving, decided any girl that much of a whore was a friend of hers. They'd been inseparable ever since.

In their current situation, Lisa was being spit-roasted by two extremely muscular and possibly dangerous black men, while Cori, obscured by her lover, was being screwed in her favorite position by a chubby, tan-skinned fellow.

The elder nymph was pleased to see her students. Well, she couldn't really see Cori per se. The equine Fae was being obscured by the Hispanic rutting away on his knees behind her. He was jabbering in Spanish, probably screaming about all the things he would do to the blonde slut in front of him. The only feature of the girl that Lily could see was one of the two bits of unicorn lineage unchangeable by shape-shifting: Cori's cloven, hoarse-haired lower legs. Since both lovers balanced on their knees, Cori's cloven feet were positioned on the outside of her mate's dark, definitively human lower extremities

The nymphomaniacal instructor strode up to the Spanish lad in all her glory, her hair swaying as a single mass due to the sheer amount of male ejaculate binding it together. She offered her a golden-colored nipple from her left breast, which by chance had been missed out on the sperm bath. She understood male sensibilities.

"Drink," she commanded. The formerly focused Hispanic boy now looked up in confusion from his knees, slowing his rhythm in Cori's pussy. "Uggghhhhhhhhh...wha...?" Cori grunted in frustrated need. The unicorn-girl began undulating her heart-shaped ass against her lover, encouraging him to get back to work. Her other bit of unicorn lineage, an undocked, high-carried horse tail that sprouted from the tip of her sacrum, swished against her partner's slack mid-section with her motions.

The boy's slack jaw and wispy moustache gave him a dull look, but Lily didn't mind. He didn't understand? Fine! She was happy to demonstrate. Grabbing a handful of flesh from her lower tit, Lily squeezed, squirting her breast-milk into his slack-jawed mouth. The boy looked like he might choke for a moment. Realizing he'd just tasted ambrosia, he fastened himself tightly Lily's bosom. He had to have more!

"Mmmmm, that's it my love, have your fill. There's plenty! Drink deep, and be born anew."

The chubby boy's head bobbed with peristaltic motion as he swallowed mouthfuls of nourishing, too-sweet-to-be-true milk. Cori was grinding the poor boy in frustration, not understanding what was going on and, on principle, not looking back. She didn't care who was riding her pussy, as long as he had a hard cock, and it was a matter of pride that she didn't look need to see her human stallion.

"What's the hold up back there?" She said from behind the curtain her wavy blonde bob-cut. "Too good to fuck a Faerie slut? Fine! I'll fuck you!" Tired of her mount's distraction, she began a well-practiced booty shake upon the stiff, brown cock that would have made a stripper blush.

Holding the boy's head in a maternal fashion, Lily continued to feed him supernatural breast-milk. Her nourishing drink caused muscles to grow from dumpy fat deposits, chiseling a man from the rough as Michelangelo might have carved a statue from marble. What was flab became firm, and importantly for Cori, what was mediocre became extraordinary! Cells in the spongy tissue of his penis divided and multiplied, lengthening 5 inches into 6, from 6 turning into 8, finally finishing around an impressive 10 inches. His girth went from pathetic to commendable and was well on its way to intimidating when he started screwing his mare again. Where there had been a boy, now there was a muscular, athletic man!

Lily's baby-feeder disengaged from the man's mouth with an audible '*Pop!*. "YESSSSSS!" Cori cried at the amazing new cock. Not satisfied his lover's rhythm, the dark-skinned man grabbed Cori by her hips and pounded her pussy in earnest! Collapsing onto her face, back arched, ass in the air, the unicorn-girl could only gurgle.

Lily took a few steps and knelt in front of her friend, legs spread slightly for balance as her belly began to swell with the first signs of life within. She ran fingers through the young unicorn-girl's luscious blonde bob of a mane. "Cori?" she asked.

The girl was grunting as the Hispanic beefcake jack-hammered her pussy.

"Cori?" she asked again.

The unicorn raised her head from her elbows to look up. She was so close to the junction of Lily's thighs, she could smell the delicate nymph sex.

"You should eat something, too. We've been on the run for awhile, you need to keep up your strength."

Jerking forward from the pounding from behind, the blonde put her face unsteadily in the pussy of her tutor, lapping up nutritious pussy juice from the forest nymph's sex. That, and the excess cum dripping from Lily's well-used pussy. A balanced meal for any Fae, Lily thought as her friend practiced well-honed rug-munching technique.

If the ripped Hispanic man at the other end of Cori noticed the deliriously erotic sight before him -- the girl he was screwing eating out a small-statured, huge-titted, kind-of Asian looking girl -- he didn't show any signs. Using one hand to hold back her blonde tail, Hispanic Stud placed the thumb of his other hand on the puckered rosebud of Cori's ass and pushed.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHHH!" Cori screamed muffled in pleasure. Lily giggled and sprayed girl-cum into the mouth of her friend.

Bellowing and screaming every blessing and curse he'd ever learned, the Spanish lover's thick wad began making its way through his cock and into Cori. Startled crows flew from a nearby tree, scared off by the man screaming at the sun. Cori, for her, part never stopped screaming into Lily's pussy -- the other end of a faux spit-roast -- as her pussy began to fill with life-giving seed.

"Cori, you've been practicing! That tongue of yours is so... so good! I'm gonna, I'm gonna... cuuuuuummmmm!!!!" Cori almost forgot to breathe drinking the spray tangy pussy juice from Lily's pussy.

Cori's former mate sat down on the grass, legs askew, cock rapidly deflating. "Madre Dios..." he muttered. The girl's ample ass undulated in the air, looking for a cock, any cock! The unicorn-girl attached to the pussy mewled in exasperation, her face an obscene mess of ruined make-up, female ejaculate, and sexually frustrated expressions. "Please, more," she begged. "Lily... help..."

Lily cradled her student's face in her hands. The dishevelled, Kewpie-doll with wide-set grey eyes begged for more. The girl looked hot, who was she to leave her dissatisfied? Lily grabbed the base of her left tit in one hand and aimed her golden nipple at the collapsed man's mouth, a good 6 feet away. She gave a good squeeze, and bam! "Bulls-eye!" She said.

Damn, she was good. Magical milk enlivening his stamina and, most importantly, his libido, Cori's muscular lover sprung back to action. He didn't know how it was possible, but he was horny again. "So HORNY!!!" He roared in broken English. "NEED!!!" His new body had needs it seemed, and he instinctively knew the only relief from this new hunger would be found in mating with the girl in front of him.

Squatting over Cori's bubble butt so that his hips were against her tail, the Hispanic man rubbed his dark length down and up her puffy, shaved cunt lips, seeking the holy sanctuary of her cum-slicked womanhood. "YES!!" She screamed. "That's it big boy, get that cock back in me. Just get it inside me!"

His rubbing met her undulating ass, and they were whole again! The partners both screamed with release, the man to the heavens, Cori into Lily's teats. His new position atop Cori's cheeks gave Cori all new pleasures to enjoy as he probed new angles of entry into her well-used honey-pot. Lily gave her charge a few more gulps of breast-milk, but it was time to see how her pixie friend Lisa was doing.

Not badly, she thought. The nuclear-pink haired pixie was lying with her back on the beefier of her black lovers, who was using his position to enjoy being balls deep in the petite Fae's ass. A slimmer, heavily tattooed black man rutted away in her pussy. Delicate, diaphanous wings could be seen pinned against the chest of the man under her, completely unharmed by the rather indelicate threesome.

Lily looked at Lisa, and the two men rutting in her. The math didn't add up. Of course! The pixie had to use her size-altering magic to fit such huge cocks inside her!

Pixie physiology was adaptable like that; no lover was too large. Barely 5'2" and normally diminutive in build, Lisa could easily handle being double penetrated by a team of oxen. Her pussy and ass would expand as needed. Other organs would move out of the way or contract in gleeful defiance of the laws of biology.

"Yeah yeah! Lovin' me this sweet-ass nymph pussy. Look at these titties, Jerome!"

Jerome, the cock in Lisa's ass Lily surmised, couldn't see anything but -- Lisa's tits had expanded with her libido to a size that would put pre-Conjunction model Miosotis to shame.

"She's a pixie boys, not a nymph. But I'll forgive your mistake, if you give me a taste of that delicious cock!" Lily was just being selfish now, but she just couldn't help herself when it came to human men! She wanted to taste them all!

The man on top of Lisa climbed off his lover and grabbed Lily by the wrist, practically dragging her to the mating rut. With a rough manoeuvre, Lily found herself lying on top of Lisa's burgeoning breasts. To call them "breasts" at this point was like calling the ocean, "a little moist". Mountains of soft, fleshy grandeur that Lily couldn't help getting turned on by. She may love cock, but there was nothing wrong with a healthy set of tits! Lily fondled, nibbled, and sucked on the massive breasts beneath her.

"That's it, babe, suck me!" The pink-haired pixie cried to her instructor-lover. "Suck my titties! Mmm, ooh Lily, by the Goddess you're good at that!!"

The tattooed man wasted no time ploughing into Lily's pussy from behind as she lay atop her friend. Lisa's growing tits thankfully gave some room for Lily's belly to grow, otherwise Lily might have rolled off on her rapidly expanding womb!

Lily's fingers disappeared as she squeezed pliant boob-flesh, seemingly fascinated with Lisa's massive udders. Both speared on black cocks, the two Fae shared a tender moment, kissing with the passionate fire of old lovers reunited after a long quarrel. Such was the effect screwing had on Fae -- they simply couldn't help themselves.

Hours past. The redneck men slowly woke and joined in the fray, Cori with them, forming new combinations and recombinations of lovers. The men never tired of the choices, the Fae women never tired of having human cocks inside them, blowing their life-giving jism inside them. There had nearly been a fight between Jerome and one of the rednecks over who would have the next go at Cori's ass, but Lily manage to settle the dispute -- a little bit of calming magic and a blowjob for each of them. Fucking the nubile professor together, the two men learned they were more similar than different. Lily was so proud of herself. Isn't there anything sex couldn't accomplish?

But alas, the small orgy ended, as good things always do. The girls laid on the grass beside the rest spot, enjoying the late afternoon sun on their semen-caked skin. Gloriously nude, nature was so much a part of what they were that Faerie girls suffered from human concerns like sun burns or bug bites. They were an embodiment of nature; procreation incarnate.

With the edge taken off their libido, it was time to resume their flight to safety. It was hard; none of the Fae ladies wanted to move first. The men lay in mini-comas around their feet -- they'd be no help. "Well girls," Lily said, "I'm good for at least a few hours. If we head north, we'll make it to Atlanta in a day or two. The Centre for Disease Control is there, and they need to know about the Dryads. If the infection spreads, it could mean the end of human men on this planet."

Lily slipped into full-on academic mode, creating a power-point presentation in her head.

"Fae males could handle the Dryads feeding on their essence without any harm, but human males aren't nearly as resilient against mystical parasites. Human females infected with Dryad spores transform men into uncontrollable sex machines, but their offspring go even further -- feeding off male essence until it's gone! All the Dryads will leave of a man post-coitus is a dryad-infected woman, and then the cycle starts over. If we don't stop it, the world will be entirely stripped of male presence." It would be a world without the cocks of men to refresh the dying Fae bloodlines -- Not a world worth living in, Lily thought.

"We're with you, Lily," Cori said. "We came back to Earth to save ourselves from extinction, I'll be damned if some stupid tree is going to screw everything up."

"Yeah," Lisa chimed in. "We'll tell the humans in Atlanta what we saw -- they're so much better at destroying stuff than we are! They'll know what to do."

The girls were well-fucked but not totally unaware, they knew what would happen if the Dryad plague spread among the humans. Ignoring the asphalt road that technology-dependant humans might have taken to find their way, the Faerie girls walked naked into the surrounding forest, disappearing in the brush.

Chicago, Illinois

The affluent suburb of Oak Park, Illinois was once home to the famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright. If his unconventional style had produced a lasting effect on local design, you couldn't tell from the cast-iron gates of Trinity Christian Collegiate. On a sunny day, the high school looked like it might be the summer home of Ebeneezer Scrooge. On a bad day, the fences and security gave it the pleasing aesthetic and natural lines of a gulag.

The fences, guards, monitors, and associated defences were all necessary, though. The public school system, with legions of horny adolescent males, were a tempting target for the even hornier Fae women. Many Fae managed to stay inside the law and only ply their wiles on men over 18, but most simply couldn't grasp the idea of any able-bodied male being off-limits. It was constricting, and often times the thrill of breaking human taboos only made the Fae want to do it more.

And so the public school system teetered on the verge of collapse. Test scores among teenage boys in the US had fallen abysmally, and most statutory rape cases against Fae fell apart when evidence magically disappeared or the so-called "victims" refused to testify. The emaciated school coffers simply didn't have extra money to buy protective spells and charms for school buildings or iron doors for classrooms. The system crumbled slowly, then quickly.

Private schools, with their large pocketbooks and affluent contributors, became the only place to send your child if you were interested in them actually receiving an education. Thankfully, James Nolan had more than enough money to keep his adopted daughter Sharifa out of the public system. He was wealthy enough that he even insisted her best friend Preeti, the daughter of his live-in housekeeper, accompany her.




Faeophobia: Magic's Hour Pt. 01



He'd come from nothing himself, and while he wasn't as wealthy as some of the blue-bloods his daughter went to school with at TCC, James made sure that the cobbled-together family never lacked for luxuries. His job as director of combat operations for Magic-Corp Industries did have its advantages: seven-figure salary, four weeks paid vacation time a year, and best of all, none of the bureaucratic bullshit he had to deal with he was enlisted in the Forces.

James pulled the Land Rover up beside the secured wrought-iron entrance and let the girls out. "Have a good day girls! Act like your mom's watching you because, let's be honest, she probably is."

The girls rolled their eyes. "Bye, dad," they both responded unenthusiastically. Preeti's father had been killed before she was born, so James was the only father figure she'd ever known. It still embarrassed him a little when she called him "dad", like there was some moral choice he'd missed somewhere. Sharifa called Shanthi "mom" though for the same reason Preeti called him "dad", so he figured it all balanced somewhere and let it go.

He organized his day on the drive over to the Magi-Corp training facility. Workout at the company gym, teleconference on potential hot-zone ops in Florida, followed by pencil pushing on potential hot-zone ops in Florida, maybe get some subcontracting deals in if he had the time, pick up the girls from school, drop them off at home, weekly dinner and sex with his assistant Youko, head home, TV, bed. Perfect.

The girls were quite a bit less enthusiastic about their day, but a teenage girl who likes her life is one who hasn't been to high school in the United States. This was doubly true for those who have the bad luck to be visibly different. Sharifa and Preeti would have stood out as oddities in a public school; in a mostly white, conservative private Christian school, they might as well have been a freak show.

Sharifa at least possessed a talent for fashion that gave her a niche in the school's ecosystem as a go-to girl for all things clothing related. She was Somalian by birth; her dad had told her she'd been adopted while he was on assignment in Mogadishu. She'd had the sense to recognize early on that there was more to it than that, but she was also smart enough to not ask too many questions. Her high cheekbones and flawless ebony skin were a gift of her Somalian heritage, but despite her beauty she was unhappy with appearance. Her cheeks were still puffy with baby fat that wouldn't go away, and having studied the photoshopped perfection of fashion models every day for five years had made her feel self-conscious about the perceived flaw. She did her best to distract from her cheeks with a set of squarish cappuccino glasses and extravagant weekly hairstyle changes.

Her best friend Preeti was Sharifa's opposite in many ways. A trim and athletic Tamil girl with hennaed black hair and dusky skin the color of sand at night, she only knew a few outfits: school-wear, floral print dress for non-athletic stuff, soccer gear for athletic stuff. Her appearance was plain and unremarkable, with skin blemishes that might have been acne or freckles depending on who was asked. The way she looked sent the message that being pretty wasn't her concern, and it wasn't. Preeti was an athlete, and she was a good one. Despite her inherent ability to work in a team though, she was shy when separated from Sharifa. As a demure, darkly-complected Hindu girl, she fit in at TCC like an albino at the Apollo.

The girls climbed the Soviet-style concrete steps to the entrance and were greeted by the first layer of security: uniform inspection. Administered by the Vice and Virtue program, a group of teachers who volunteered their time, they never failed to single Sharifa out among the throng of students entering the school. The V&V were, in her estimation, the worst group of neo-fascists to ever strip a girl of accessories.

The woman who currently ran the program was the bible-toting Biology teacher, Ms. Byrne. She was pointing at the small pink scarf Sharifa had around her neck.

"Is this some sort of gang-wear?"

"It's an ascot, not a do-rag," Ignorant bitch, she thought.

"A mascot for what, black culture? No, this isn't allowed at all. You'll get it back at the end of the day. And what about your rings, it's far too vain to wear so much jewelry at one time. Take them off."

"We go through this every day Ms. Byrne, these rings belonged to my mother. They're not coming off."

The teacher, withered before her time by religious zealotry, studied the girl carefully. Although she didn't like black people as a rule, she also didn't want to be accused of being racist. "Fine, keep the rings. Come back at the end of the day for your mascot."

With a groan, Sharifa followed Preeti through the magic detector and around the corner to their lockers. Preeti never had these kind of problems. True, the only accessories she owned were a small necklace and a hair clip, but still. V&V had given her trouble once, over a red string she'd gotten from temple as a protective ward. Preeti, unsure and unaccustomed to the grilling she got from Ms. Byrne, had started crying uncontrollably. If it had been Sharifa in her place, they probably would have tried to drown her as a witch.

"Ugh, I hate this place so much. I can't wait to go to Paris next year." Sharifa said.

Preeti smiled. "If you get in. You still don't know whether Esmod accepted your portfolio or not -- and you still have to convince your dad to let you go. And to pay for everything"

Sharifa laughed. "Come on, when has my Dad ever been able to say no to me? Remember fashion week in New York?"

"Standing in the heat for theatre tickets while you and dad were at the park... mom was ready to kill him. That was a terrible birthday. Anyway, this'd be different! You'd be on your own, in a foreign country, and you don't even speak French."

"I'll learn -- it can't be that hard! I bet everyone speaks English there anyway. And with all that crap going down in Florida, it's probably safer than staying here." Sharifa pulled out a small sample portfolio to show her friend. It was full of every-day wear designs, but the women in the pictures all had enormous breasts. Preeti's eyes lingered perhaps a little longer than they should have.

"You'll see. I'm gonna be the Coco Chanel of our generation. Think about it -- all these women getting hit with breast growth spells, no one's making clothes for them yet! I'm gonna make a mint! I'll take you on a tour of the Mediterranean in my yacht after I get rich. I might even let you have a model or two," she said with a wink.

Preeti gave in to nervous giggles. "Eww, Shar, gross! Okay, when that happens, you get the yacht, I'll bring the champagne. You'd better not bring any boys, though!"

"Why no boys??" the school's sole Fae, a half-pixie friend of theirs named Tenanye, bounced up to their lockers. Tired of having her name mispronounced, she insisted everyone call her Ten. Like most Fae, she was improbably good looking, earning her the nickname "Perfect Ten" at TCC. While always popular among the boys, as a non-white, non-Christian, unrepentant boyfriend-stealer, she was just as much a pariah as Preeti among the school's girls. Together with a few others, they were the misfit clique at Trinity.

"Boys are so much fun! Right Shar? Heard you hooked up with Gavin at Christina's party last Friday. Nice. You know Heather's gonna be super pissed when she finds out."

Preeti looked at her friend, aghast. "I thought you were helping Bernadette with her math homework on Friday!" she smacked Sharifa on the arm.

"Ow! Okay, fine, yes, I wanted to go to a party that wasn't at the Aquarium. Mom would have lost her shit if I told her where I was actually going. It's cool though, Bernadette covered for me. She's such a sweetheart."

"I know." A girl carted herself up to the gaggle of teenage girls on steel crutches that were worn with use. Bernadette had been born with cerebral palsy, which even in the days of magic and miracles had left her dependent on braces to walk. She was lucky, though: her parents, though devout Christians, had allowed a limited amount of mystical intervention. With medical attention alone, by this point in her life she might have been dead.

"How was the party?"

"Didn't you hear?" Ten was far too excited about this. Her purple irises practically sparkled, and her crystalline wings tittered behind her. "Her and Gavin are going now. You're so lucky Shar, Gav's like, the best running back in school history! Football players are so hot." The pixie side of Ten did show itself from time to time.

"Yeah, he's okay-" she was interrupted by Ms. Byrne wheeling around the corner.

"Tain-an-yaw Jacobsen," she shouted, butchering the girl's name. "You tuck those wings into your uniform this instant!!!"

The hyperactive pixie pretended to look at a watch. "Well hey! Would ya look at my wrist. Gotta run! See you at lunch?" Without waiting for an answer, Ten rushed off to her class, the overbearing Ms. Byrne hot on her trail.

The three girls could hear them down the hall. "Those things are the work of Satan himself, I am going to have you expelled for this, Tain-an-yaw..."

Sharifa and Preeti closed their lockers and headed for first period. "See you at lunch, Bernadette."

The crippled girl was left alone, a sadly often occurrence. She'd been born to a nice, Christian family, her parents were good people, why was she meant to suffer this way? She was older than the other girls in their group, she should be living life by now. Surely the Lord wasn't so cruel as to want to keep her like this forever?

She shook her head. No, she'd keep the faith, and she'd be rewarded. Eventually. Try as she might to put it out of her mind, that nagging feeling that she'd been handed the wrong life was never far.

It wasn't meant to be like this. She wasn't meant to be like this. She loved her friends, but they weren't good people. They were pagans and abominations. And worst, they were so judgemental about the Christian girls at the school. It wasn't those girls' fault they despised her! The affliction she suffered was clearly punishment from the Lord for some sin her parents had committed. None of the Christian bitches at this school would piss to save you if you burst into flame, Shar had said, admonishing her for defending them. Bernadette looked down at her broken body.

Who could blame them for thinking I'm cursed?

It caught her attention that she could hear something... was it... singing? It was so faint, she could just barely make it out... it wasn't words that were being sung, exactly, but she could make out an ethereal feeling, something from a higher plane... angels, maybe? Somewhere in a cave perhaps, far beyond our mortal world... The song was mellifluous and slow, pouring into her brain its hypnotic charm. Can anyone else hear this? She looked around lazily. It seemed she was alone in the school hallway.

"Bernadette," came a soft, high tone. The nameless tune carried on around the voice.

The broken brunette girl struggle on her crutches to turn towards the sound. It was directional, but at the same time sounded like it was whispered in her ear.

Again it came, the ethereal song never stopping nor losing its entrancing effect. "Bernadette,"

The sound was coming from the admin office down the hall. Somehow she knew.

"Bernadette... come here, Bernadette..."

It was a woman's voice, a dolce alto that emanated from the door and swam in her head. It was so soothing, so calming... Bernadette hobbled on her braces towards the sound. The heavy iron door just a crack, enough that she didn't have much of a problem pushing it open with her crutch. The air that escaped as the door inched open was damp and humid, like some bayou miasma that had made its way north.

"Hello...?" She called out.

The administration offices seemed empty of their normal people, but they looked... overgrown, for lack of a better word. Motes of light sparkled throughout the room. The song, that lost angel's song, grew louder and more hypnotizing. It seemed as though she was approaching the cave she imaged, the cave where some lost angel sung a song of being lost, of remembering half a dream...

Roots sprouted through the floor and cracked the tiles as they grew like veins throughout the room. A few of the roots grew thick tendrils that travelled up the secretaries desk like reaching arms trying to pull it into the ground. Bernadette stepped over them as if it was a dream, not noticing as the door closed shut behind her.



"That's it Bernadette, a little closer now... everything will be made right..."

The roots avoided the iron doors and chair legs, but the crippled girl didn't notice. Between the voice and the song, she was thoroughly hypnotized. Moving without a thought towards... something. She knew that she was meant to enter the principal's office, but in her hypnagogic state she didn't question where that knowledge came from. The voice beckoned, and she followed. Passing the crumbling secretary's desk to the heavy iron door of the principal's office, Bernadette listened again for that sweet voice. The door opened slowly as she approached, as if by magic.

"Come in." The voice was real this time! Not in her head! Hearing actual sound floated Bernadette's mind to reality like bubbles to the surface of water. Shaking her head, she began to regain her senses. The song faded away.

"What... what's happening? Where am I?" Now awake and a little scared, she scanned her surroundings.

The office was destroyed, made all the more severe by the sudden silence. Her head lolled as she took in the biggest mess she had ever seen in one place. Papers were scattered, shelves overturned, roots took hold every nook and cranny like the office was an abandoned ruin. At the centre of the room was a gigantic hole where the principal's desk should have been. Out of the hole sprouted an intimidatingly huge flower bud, with broad, purple petals that were bigger than a grown man.

In the far corner of the room, the principal and several administrative attendants were pinned down by an intricate series of roots. "Help... us..." the principal managed to wheeze. The trapped people looked terrified! Bernadette, now fully aware, tried to hobble over to help them. As she got closer, she could see that a veined membrane emanated from the roots and grew over the captives. Wait was it... it was still spreading! It was going to cover them whole!

"Hold on, Principal Schneider! I'll get you out!"

Bernadette's attention was suddenly redirected to the huge flower by the petals, which unfurled like a lazy merry-go-round. When they finished opening, a nude elf was revealed at the centre of the flower, quite unlike any Fae the crippled girl had ever seen. Not that she'd seen many in her life, but this... The elf's fiery red hair had an inner glow like molten rock, and her skin seemed made of soft light. Her curves were perfect -- even by the ridiculous feminine standards of the Fae races.

The bottom petal bowed in obeisance and let the elf Caecyliiyanali, Cecilia to the humans, gently to the floor. Like an old testament angel, her feet seemed to hover an inch above the base Earth. To Bernadette the world seemed filmed through a soft lens; time moved slowly and dream-like.

"I sung for you the song of the faeries, my sweet Bernadette. Be grateful! Few humans ever hear our hearts' true song," Cecilia said slowly, in a voice that seemed as soft as the flower petals she emerged from. Ever sound still seemed sharp to Bernadette though, in the absence of the haunting song that had lured her.

Appraising the girl, Cecilia noted her features. "Bowl-cut brown hair, unflattering features, twisted limbs," the words cut at Bernadette, making her feel naked before her captor.

"You poor, broken, child. Your gods have been cruel, to shape you this way." She languidly stepped towards her prey on the balls of her toes, her hair blowing in some unseen breeze. She stared into Bernadette's eyes and did not let go of the gaze.

"When I first arrived to this world, I tried to understand your religions with their repressive ways. I could never grasp why humans make themselves suffer so. You yearn like we do for the joys of the flesh -- I have felt it! When a man slides his hand up my thigh, when a woman kneads the flesh of my bosom, I feel your yearning, and it is kin to mine."

The Fae had a look in her eye when she spoke, like a wolf that had found a lost lamb. "But you fight that which comes naturally in the name of cold and distant gods, and hate yourselves when you cannot win." She walked around the entranced girl in a theatrical manner, trailing a finger along her shoulder. It was the nature of Fae to be a little on the melodramatic side.

"You can give up that hypocrisy, Bernadette. You can become what you were meant to be, body and mind. All you have to do, is ask."

Bernadette knew this was a test. Jesus had been tested like this; Satan tempted him with worldly power and wealth, but he had refused. Now Satan was taking the form of a beautiful woman, what she herself had always wanted to be, to show her what she could have. I can be strong, she thought to herself. If the Lord had made her this way, He had a purpose for it.

"Get thee gone, devil! In the name of the Lord, I command you to let these people go!" Bernadette said emphatically, pointing to the captured school administrators.

Cecilia looked at the tiny, broken girl, so small but so defiant. Bemused, Cecilia threw back her head and laughed in a high-pitched voice that was soft, but still somehow menacing.

"You know, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to hear a human say 'no'. Thank you for that," she said, smiling.

Cecilia was so close that Bernadette could finally see her skin under the radiance. It was beautiful, like polished alabaster. The elf seemed to float to within an inch of her face, after which she took a hold of the girl. "LUST" she whispered in her ear.

Bernadette's poor mind cracked like an egg shell. Her faith that her god would protect her was so strong, she didn't anticipate the Hunger. It was like her pussy was all that existed. She could feel every inch of her womanly sanctum, every cell that screamed as if it were on fire. Images flashed through her mind; her friend Joey, with his cool demeanor and awkwardness around girls. She would feel him inside her! Sharifa's boyfriend Gavin, with his muscular build and Teutonic features. He would be her husband, if only for a few minutes. Mr. Johnson, the portly Religion teacher she had a crush on. In her mind he was naked underneath her pregnant body, shooting delicious seed into her fertile depths to father yet more children upon her.

Where... where were these thoughts coming from? Her feet went amok and she fell to her knees, scattering her crutches. God, help me! she prayed. She shook her head, Get it together, Bernadette... you... can... hold...on!

"You are strong to have held on this far!" It was the goddess-elf in front of her, observing the crippled girl in wonder. "I can see why I was commanded to take you first."

Bernadette had no comebacks, no quips, all her focus was on fighting the Need. The need to be roughly taken by groups of men, by her teachers, by her friends, by complete strangers... she saw herself wearing a wedding dress in a church, surrounded by Parishioners, being sexed in the centre aisle by a dozen naked men while the Minister gave a fire-and-brimstone speech about hell-bound unbelievers, climaxing as the Minister smashed his fist on the daïs.




Faeophobia: Magic's Hour Pt. 01



Cecilia took the girl's chin between her thumb and index finger, bringing Bernadette's eyes up to meet hers. "The more you fight, the more you cling to your faith, the more ardent a Believer you will become when you join us..."

The Infinite Beauty spell the elf had transfused into her body finally broke through the Christian girl's protective spells and charms. The enchanting beauty of the Fae over-rode poor Bernadette's mind; the girl was too used to looking up to people above her; to supplicating; to sycophancy. She was docile by nature, and it made her easy prey for such a creature. The crippled girl started weeping openly. She could look like this, this goddess! She could become a whole person, no more braces, no more sitting by at the side while everyone else got theirs! She could have.

"Please, whoever you are," she begged, "fix me. I've known my whole life this isn't right. Make me who I'm supposed to be."

Cecilia bent and kissed her on the lips, letting some of her essence flow into the girl.

The crippled girls' mind was torn apart by the magic. Gone was years of Sunday school, the psychological conditioning, the moral behavior, the years of yearning for a good Christian boyfriend... all gone in an instant. The certainty of her belief stayed the same, but her allegiance had shifted.

So lost in her own change was Bernadette that she didn't notice the smooth plant vine that grew from a golden blossom that had sprouted between the elf's thighs. She started to notice the phallic growth about the time it began crawling up the inside of her leg. "What's tha-" she said in between sobs. With a sudden thrust, the vine rent her underwear, her maidenhead, and was deep inside her! She gave a muffled scream into Cecilia's lips.

The office, annexed from the school by a muffling growth of supernatural plants and further padded with heavy iron doors, suffocated any sounds that might have otherwise escaped.

The vine, hot and smooth in ways no plant should ever be, began jettisoning seeds into Bernadette's womb. With their magic, her limbs began to strengthen. Years of stunted growth stretched into a figure more becoming of a young woman. The motor control centres of her brain, where the real dysfunction lay, became a site of rapid cellular growth and repair. She could feel it! This was what she'd always wanted: change! She was healing! Hallelujah and praise the cock! She couldn't help but laugh. She cackled maniacally, her face still wet with tears, to the distress of the cocooned administrators on the other side of the room.

The corruption was complete. She began clutching at her clothes, as if they were suddenly confining and claustrophobic. Wait, what had she thought? Praise th-? It hit her by surprise. The Hunger reorganized her now pliant mind, and Bernadette could feel her new slutdom coming in. Sinews grew, bones straightened, and her mind began to bend to the lust. Nature granted her desire for a new body, but there was a price to be paid, and the price was fecundity!

"I want... I want penis!" She declared. It was so good to say aloud how she felt! No worry about sin or morals, only the announcement of her desires! "Penis!" She nearly screamed it this time. "A hot, hard penis to ejaculate in my cunt! It doesn't matter who, I need to, to..." thinking back to her biology classes with prissy old Miss Byrne, she found the word. "I need to procreate!"

She looked up at Cecilia, holding herself as the changes wracked her body. "I want to be bred, like the horses on daddy's farm," she stated plainly. "He calls them... brood-mares... That's what I... I want to be one. A human one. A human brood-mare! A receptacle for sperm! I want to be pregnant, always!!!" She formed a picture in her head: bathing in cum, wallowing in a river of semen, letting her splayed pussy soak up entire lakes of sticky boy-juice.

Her breasts grew as well. They had started as stunted as the rest of her broken body, but as she knelt on the floor in front of her new goddess Bernadette felt her tit-flesh begin to expand, to grow. She'd never needed a bra before, she barely filled an A-cup. But her bosom was becoming tight inside her uniform's blouse. She unbuttoned the shirt to allow for the explosion efflorescent growth. Her tits would be free! Bernadette felt it's potential...

She grasped the yielding flesh of her growing teats. "MMMMMNNNH, how... big will I become... mother?" she asked Cecilia. The elf, having carried several hundred pregnancies to fruition over the past few months, still tittered at being called "mother". Especially when called that by daughters of magic rather than of birth.

"How big would you like to become, child?"

The new slut was still crying and laughing, her mind uncomprehending of the changes taking place. "I... I want to be... huge! I want have tits that... that... sit on my lap! Tits that could... could suffocate a horse! I want melons so big the boys can fuck my nipples!" The girl was going mad.

Her growing breasts, so infinitesimal before, now hung on her chest like enormous dew-drops, burgeoning in growth spurts of several inches at a time. "I want tits so big I... that I can't move! Boys'll have to fuck me from behind or... or... they won't even reach me!!" Her mammaries were massive now, almost reaching the ground from her kneeling position. They flowed out of her open shirt and over her legs, hiding her upper legs, projecting far enough from her body that she would struggle to touch her own saucer-sized nipples!

"I'm a SLUT!!!" she screamed, standing effortlessly on her own. Her now vestigial crutches lay at her feet, unused and unwanted. Long brown hair hung at her back, and her irises had changed from a ruddy brown to an incandescent green. Her breasts, larger than any standard of measure before the celestial conjunction, dangled with a lightness that defied physics. At once heavy and pneumatic, they were soft orbs of beckoning sexual fertility that would entice any seeker, man or woman, to bury their face and lose themselves in.

The monsters I've created, Cecilia thought. The vine, having deposited a half-dozen magical seeds in Bernadette's womb, began to retract from the new body. "Slow down, child. Come, pleasure me. When you are one with me, you will understand what it is I have come here to do." The elf stepped back to her plant, which once again seemed to bend the knee and bow to her, extending its flower petal so that she could lounge upon it. The blossom between Cecilia's thighs retracted, revealing her smooth, hairless sex.

"You mean," said the new woman, "that you're not here for me?"

Cecilia threw back her head and laughed again, this time without any menace. "No child, I have risked much travelling this far from my sanctuary. Though I am glad to have liberated you, I have another purpose. Pleasure me, and learn our goal." She laid back on her leaf like a hedonistic aristocrat, waiting for her child of magic to perform oral sex on her mother-maker.

The girl-who-was-not-Bernadette, extremely horny but yet unskilled, inspected the junction between the elf's legs. Cecilia's legs were spread, giving Bernadette a glorious view of the first naked pussy she'd ever seen. She fell in love with its tender folds, the viscous girl-cum that glistened like tree sap on a summer day. The inner folds looked like a sideways pair of lips, just waiting to be kissed. A guitar pick of ginger hair seemed to point towards the awaiting prize, and unable to help herself anymore, the newly created Slut dove in.

"I want to please you, mother," she said in earnest between licks.

"You're a Believer now, my dear," the elfin goddess said, "don't worry about the how. Your nature will guide you."

Trusting in her maker, she placed her tongue at the base of Cecilia's pussy and dragged it along her sex. Cecilia, jaded but still a raving nymphomaniac by nature, gave a girlish shriek of delight.

"Mmmmmmmmm, yes!! That's good, dear. More."

Bernadette found her new inner slut knew exactly where to lick, where to nibble. "I'm... a rug-muncher!" She said in obvious delight. "A total lesbo who gets off on eating pussy!" Wrapping her arms around Cecilia's thighs, she let her new whorish nature guide her. Much to her dam's delight!

Feeling a sudden twinge in her own nether-regions, Bernadette slipped her left hand down to the folds her newly used pussy, broken in by Cecilia's vine. It felt good! She inserted her third and fourth fingers into a soaking pussy. So good!! She squelched her fingers more vigorously, rubbing the palm of her hand against her mound. This morning she was eating cereal as broken old Bernadette, now she was a slut-whore who was masturbating herself while tongue-fucking an elf!

The wonton thought gave Bernadette her first true orgasm.

Stumbling in her ministrations as her own orgasm destroyed whatever rational part of her brain still existed made it hard to understand why Cecilia's clit became harder. She tried desperately to keep going, but the red-faced Slut was having troubles syncing her breathing and pussy-eating. Her maker-mother decided to help her out by fucking her face. Winding elfin fingers through Bernadette's now long, lustrous hair for grip the girl's face, Cecilia bucked her hips into her dam's face as if she were male lover. Her orgasm approached.

Bernadette was finding it hard to gasp for post-orgasm breaths and have her face fucked, but she tried desperately, and her whorish nature made her successful. "Yes Bernadette, you beautiful bitch, I'm gonna, I'm gonna... ccuuuUUUMMMMMMM!!!"

She sprayed her pine-tasting girl-cum all over Bernadette's now beautiful face. The orgasm triggered a release of racial memory from dam to progeny, if for only an instant. The true believer of a Slut absorbed it all in a blink. Tenanye. Preeti. Preeti's mom. James. Sharifa. Fire. Trees. A desert. Women -- a sea of green-haired, buxom women. Herself, among them.

It was a cacophony of images, but it all made sense.

"Huh. So that's the plan."

The magic alarms, supposedly sensitive to the slightest mystical disturbance anywhere on school grounds, finally decided to scream.

Seminole County, Georgia

It was the largest quarantine in the history of the United States. The entire state of Florida, from the Atlantic coast on the border of Georgia to the Gulf of Mexico where the panhandle meets Alabama, was one long military cordon. The National Guard had been the first to arrive, but military personnel from all over the world were being brought home to hold the line. Clearly the boys in Washington knew something that they weren't letting on.

They soldiers were told it was an outbreak of Hanta virus in the Everglades, and that anyone trying to flee should be turned away if possible, and terminated with extreme prejudice if not. Hundreds of people had attempted to drive through the cordon on the first week; the hollowed-out wreckage from their failed attempts served as a useful deterrent. There were whispers at night between the men, guesses at what was actually happening that would turn the government against its people like this, but the whispers evaporated in the daylight like morning dew.

It was April now, into the third week of the quarantine, and things were dull. Two weeks of inactivity and the men were starting to get bored. Despite being on duty, Pvt. Tommy Franks and his buddies were playing cards at their post, trying to pass the time. Tommy was losing, badly.

"I'm sick of your shit," he said to his friend Jace, who Tommy was pretty sure was cheating. "If you'll excuse me, I am gonna go take a shit of my own." With a sarcastic bow, he left the group and his post to head out for the latrines. "Don't fall in, now! You're not out yet, and I could use a new pair a' boots," Jace shouted while gathering up Tommy's lost wages.

"Yeah, yeah," Tommy said.

He was getting pretty annoyed sitting at a road block in the middle of nowhere, guarding against no one, being told nothing. In the past, he'd helped sandbag to protect levees against hurricanes and sift through rubble after earthquakes, all of which was hard work he didn't mind doing. Protecting the state border against a plague nobody had ever heard of was bullshit.

The latrines were built into a natural clearing away from the camp. Tommy didn't notice or just didn't care that the clearing was silent of normal sylvan noises. From the row of latrines, Tommy picked the one on the far right, which from experience he knew to be the least filthy. He had opened the door halfway before a delicate hand reached out from beside him and closed it forcefully. Tommy snapped out of his daze. "What th-"

"Male!" the naked girl beside him stated.

"Christ on a fucking cracker!" he said in surprise, falling backward. "How in the fuck did you get past security?" His mind was scrambling. He'd left his gun at his post. Fuck!

"Male!" the girl said again. She was clearly Fae, beautiful features, up-swept ears that projected from her bright green hair, almond-shaped eyes. She wasn't flirty like most Fae though; the girl had an very focused look in her eyes. Tommy felt his fear slip away. Cocksure, he picked himself off the ground.

"Oh that's what you're looking for." He looked to see if anyone was around. Nobody was visible, even in the distance it seemed like everyone was either at their post or had scattered to get out of the unseasonable heat. "Ah what the hell, I got five minutes. Maybe I don't need to report you just yet," Tommy said. "C'mere, over here where nobody'll find us," he said, dragging her by the hand. "Male?" she said. This bitch ain't too clever, he thought to himself, then again, she don't need to be.

He marched her to a secluded area behind the latrines. The second Tommy stopped walking, the girl put a hand in his camo pants and used the other to tear his wife beater off. "Christ!" he said in shock. His dog-tags rattled with the violence that tore his shirt from him.

"MALE!" she screamed in triumph. His cock saluted her efforts so stiffly it would've made his staff sergeant proud. The initial surprise started to wear, and the creature's natural magic began to work at the edges of Tommy's mind. He looked at her face closely as the magic penetrated deeper, and found that she was the more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen. More beautiful than the cartoonishly perfect elf bitches in the skin mags and pornos he owned, more beautiful than his mind would have ever conceived using his own meager imagination. Standing before him, naked, working his cock with her flawless hand, she was perfect.

"Whoa, uh, hey darlin'..." he started. He thought he might need to romance her a little. He was mistaken.

Am I dreaming...? He thought. It was like a dream, in that things simply happened with no indication of how they'd gotten there. But it wasn't. It was too solid to be a dream. He was on his back, naked, with this green-haired love-making machine riding his cock all the way to the Alamo. Her knees dug into his sides so hard Tommy thought she'd break something."Jesus you're strong!" he gurgled.

Pvt. Franks began to keenly feel the grass beneath him, like his skin was getting more sensitive. "Bitch, what're you... what're you doing to me?" he asked drunkenly.

"Mmm, male," she said. To prevent him from talking more, she put a gold-hued nipple in his mouth. Tommy took the proffered aureola. She continued to bounce up and down on his cock, which to Tommy, felt very far away somehow. It also seemed to him like the Fae's pussy was getting bigger.

Something tickled his shoulders... hair? It wasn't the Fae's green hair... it was sandy brown, like his had been before the Forces shaved him into a jar-head. He also felt a weight on his chest, something strange. His arm hair fell out, quickly followed by the hair on his chest and legs. The loose hair tickled Tommy, although if his rutting partner noticed anything, she didn't show any sign.

Her hands, they were glowing green. That was weird.

"Not my guns...please, don't take 'em..." The guns he was so proud of, the concrete biceps he'd worked so hard for in the forces, seemed to be atrophying. He could feel it happen in his legs as well, almost, but not quite, like the pins-and-needles sensation. He could feel muscles growing in his back, though. Why there? It was the weirdest sensation. And his nipples were getting so sensitive! It was almost too much every time the Fae whore on top of him dragged her tits across his growing chest.

This wasn't right. Dim as Tommy was, it finally dawned on him he should stop having sex with thing as soon as possible. "Get off me!" said a high-pitched voice Tommy didn't recognize. There was a ripping sound, like skin peeling off leather on a hot day. He looked down to see that it was a pair of vaginal lips, his vaginal lips, separating from his lover's. Private Tommy Franks had been transformed into... Tammy Franks!

It all came together.

"Whhhaa...?" he tried to articulate. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit. This isn't happening. This isn't happening!"

"No more male," the Fae said ruefully.

"You! What'd you do to me! Turn me back! Give me back my willie! NOW!"

She picked herself up off the ground. "More male!" she said, and traipsed off towards the large amount of male essence she sensed for her next meal.

"Oh Christ, oh shit, god guys, help me!" It was his voice, he now realised, the high-pitched squeak was his voice. A girl's voice, no where near his former masculine tone.

"I'm Tommy... I'm Tommy... I'm Tommy..." the girl chanted, as if saying it enough times would wake her from this nightmare. She clutched at her knees and started rocking back and forth, visibly panicked. "I'm Tommy... I'm Tommy... I'm Tammy... "

She couldn't pinpoint when, but at some point she'd switched to saying, "I'm Tammy." She reached down and tried to touch the new genitalia as if to prove to herself what had happened, but couldn't work up the nerve to do so. Her fingers trembled, hovering unsteadily, eventually pulling back like she'd touched something hot.

It dawned on her: that thing, it's heading for my unit. Realizing the danger her friends were in, she ignored the severe cramp she had at the pit of her stomach and stumbled back. "Oh, shit!" she said and tumbled over, unaccustomed to the new centre of balance. How do girls walk with tits? She thought. They're so heavy! ... So that's what all them back muscles are for. Picking herself up, she staggered forward to warn her unit.

Tammy was too late. Tommy's friend Jace, excitedly shoving his black dick into the Fae thing Tommy had screwed, didn't seem to notice Tammy's arrival. The other soldiers, who had been forced to watch in jealously after Jace had gotten to the Fae first, did.

"Hey look, there's another one!" cried PFC Hendricks, pointing at the sandy-haired, big-titted babe that wandered towards them.

"She's mine!" said the husky Corporal Perez, hustling over to the naked woman that was once Tommy Franks.

She wanted to warn them. She wanted to tell Jace to get away from that... thing. Instead of doing what Tommy had been trained to do, the neo-nymphet laid on her back, hooked her arms around her knees, and showed the boys her new pussy. Will any of them want me? She thought. Where'd that come from?! Tammy couldn't have said why she was doing these things.

"I saw her first!" Hendricks shouted, pushing Perez out the way. It didn't matter, though; sensing the danger was gone and the male essence was unguarded, more dryad females emerged, seemingly from nowhere. There would be enough women to go around.




Faeophobia: Magic's Hour Pt. 01



Tammy was getting desperate to warn everyone, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it! As Hendricks got on top of her and ploughed her pussy, she knew she couldn't do anything until cum filled her to the brink. The part of her mind that still didn't comprehend the changes screamed on inside her brain.

"Fuck me harder!" Tammy said to her man. "That's it, baby, give me that delicious dick! Knock me up!" It was Tommy's nature to be trusting; in Tammy that translated to not letting go of her knees, passively trusting her partner would seed her with child.

She looked over to Jace, halfway through his conversion into... Jaclyn maybe? Jada? What would her new sister call herself? Tammy saw her friend's ripped frame shring and disappearing; what was hard and masculine became curvy and effeminate. Never again would Jace threaten another human being with his physicality -- like her, he was being transformed from a fighter into a lover.

Other units came to see what the noise was and got sucked into the fete. No matter where Tammy turned her head, the scene was the same: green-haired nymphs having making love to military men who should have been pushing them back behind the perimeter. It was brilliant, really. There was no great battle, no loss of lives on either side. The sluts simply absorbed the enemy into themselves. Ourselves, she thought.

"What the fuck??" The events seem to have completely bemused the cute mocha girl that had been Jace. She looked at Tammy, looking for some sense to the anarchy. Recognition dawned when she saw the Celtic knot tattoo that Tommy had gotten before enlisting. Grabbing a handful of black tit in both hands, she screamed in triumph, "I'm Jaclyn!!!"

If it weren't for the lust she felt, she might have been terrified. That lust, though, it was overwhelming.

The Fae that dammed her scampered off, leaving Jaclyn to fend for herself. Staff Sergeant Donnely wasn't taken yet! He was holding his cock with a death grip, waiting above a rutting pair for a chance at Fae pussy. Jace had always had a thing for white girls, and judging by the way Sgt. Donnely's pale, muscled skin made her quim wet in anticipation, Jaclyn had the same preference!

She became a hormone-fuelled ballistic missile, catching the sarge sideways using Jace's experience as an OT in high school football. The two tumbled nude for a short distance, grappling to decide who would be the aggressor. Sergeant Donnely won out, pinning his prize to the ground and spearing her with his vanilla meat.

Being adaptable to any situation, Jaclyn locked her ankles around her mate and dug her heels into the small of his back for better purchase. Wrapping her arms around her mate's shoulders for leverage, she ground her hips into his with each thrust, fucking him right back!

The National Guard motto was, "Always ready, Always there," which as it turned out aptly described Jaclyn and her new pussy.

She took her tongue out of his throat so that she could make her intentions clear. "That's it white boy! You'd better not pull out 'til you put a caramel baby in me. You hearin' me?!" Donnely groaned, he loved dirty talk! How did she know? He hadn't yet made the connection between the men and the human hyper-sluts. He was dull, but more likely it was the mentally stupefying magic of a dozen Dryads in estrus. Either way, he was turned on!

Jace knew from mess shag-and-brag that the sarge liked bitchy, mouthy girls, and Jaclyn retained all the knowledge she'd had as Jace. "That's it, cracker, fuck your bitch good! I don't feel no cum in my pussy, what, you too good to knock up a black chick? You think I can't bring a white baby into this world? I'll show you, goddam cracker. You too good to cum in a black woman's pussy?" Shocked by the invective, Donnely answered his lover by letting go inside her with a howl.

Jaclyn's eyes went wide, then closed, then wide again. "Holy SHHHHHHHHHHITTT!!!" she screamed. His cum was so hot! This was it! This was what she was made for! It all made sense now!

She looked at Donnely in wonder, not letting go of her leg lock around his lower back. They stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard, both trying to recuperate from the most electrifying orgasm either had ever had.

"Oh, we doin' that again!" Jaclyn announced

Tammy, watching from close by, happened to get cummed in at the same time. She closed her eyes in quiet rapture as her lover dug his hands into her flesh. She bit into Hendricks' shoulder, trying to hold on to what was left of her mind. When she opened her eyes, more Dryads were emerging from the ether to claim any male essence left. She hung on to hers tightly.

While she didn't put on quite as emphatic a show as Jaclyn did, she knew what her friend was going through. She wasn't just a female version of Tommy, she was an entirely new person now. And that person's goal in life was to screw and to breed as much as possible.

"Well this isn't so bad," she said.