She sat on the edge of the forest, looking out over the grassy knolls that lay between the woods and the small town where she lived. She had been gathering mushrooms from the forest - Witch's Butter, Fly Agaric, Puffballs to be cooked in rich cream butter, and Bleuwitts. No Morels or Psilocibe just yet - the former out of season, the latter still maturing in the recently abandoned cow fields. She hadn't disturbed any of the rings, however - she was too familiar with the consequences of that to risk the wrath of any of the faery who ruled these woods. Still, she had settled near one of their trods, the secret pathways that they wandered in their rades and paegants, in hopes of catching a glimpse or two. 

She pulled her woolen cloak a bit tighter around her shoulders, smiling at the thought. It was unlikely - even elder witches were lucky to catch glimpses of the faer folk, and she was just out of her tweens. It was late morning, and the skies were a bright, heady blue, the color of hot weather though it was still cool in the autumn shade. She placed her hand on the handle of the basket absently, and sighed, rocking it back and forth, letting her mind wander just a little. 

She was startled by a tiny squeak, and her first thought was that a titmouse or ferret had invaded her basket. Pulling her hand away quickly, the delicate girl stared wide eyed at the basket which still rocked a little, the rounded bottom of no support at all. A disheveled shock of violet hair decorated with vines and minuscule flowers emerged from the basket, along with an elbow that served to keep the tiny body of the faery supported. Another delicate little hand came out of the basket an ruffled the hair further, prompting a smile from the witch. A double set of glistening dragonfly wings, iridescent and shivering slowly rose from the tiny faery's back and spread, stretching. This was followed by a ridiculously exaggerated yawn, and the youthful witch covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The fae could take offense easily, and they punished just as swiftly. 

Bright green eyes looked up at her, and the pixie smiled at her, then fluttered free of the cloth covering the basket, tiny and perfect, and gloriously skyclad. The witch blushed a little at the sight, unused to such displays; but didn't take her eyes from the tiny spectacle. That too could have been construed as terribly rude, and size did not necessarily translate to power. 

The little faery sketched a quick and surprisingly elegant little curtsy in midair, and the girl bowed her head with a smile. The faery - she was sure it was a pixie, but couldn't be positive - gestured imperiously, lifting her hand up and holding it up. Taking a guess, the woman-child lifted her hand and was tremendously surprised when the naked faery settled into her hand, curling into her palm like a cat might have settled onto a settee. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she felt both honored and gratified she was being so blessed by the wee folk in such a way. 

The delicate faery gazed at the young witch with guileless eyes like tiny drops of ruby, her oddly long ears looking surprisingly normal for her. There were other tiny, distinct differences - the tiny little claws on her fingers and toes, rather than nails, and the lack of a navel in the expanse of her smooth belly. She was well formed, her body slender and boyish, appearing slightly younger than the witch herself, though she was heavier and more muscular seeming than the witch had expected. The faery wrapped her arms around one finger, and smiled up at the witch, tuckign her legs underneath her body. the movements made the witch's heart flutter again, and it almost felt as though she were seeing something obscene or forbidden. She looked down, still smiling, and took a deep breath, only to realize there was an odd sensation, a tiny tickle along her fingertip. The faery squirmed gently in her palm, caressing her skin with the entirety of her tiny body, but that wasn't what was tickling her finger. 

That was the tiny tongue, extended from soft, half smiling lips, being dragged in slow, sensual circles across her fingertip by the faery. The witch's cheeks and ears burned red as she watched the delicate creature plying attention to her fingertip. The strange little creature moved slowly, toes curling oddly just like....she blushed hotter as she felt another little bit of wetness touching her hand, but not from the fae's mouth. 

She smiled uncertainly at the wanton little creature, who continued to lick her fingertip and rub herself into the witch's palm slowly and sensually. The tiny ruby eyes never left her own, and she felt oddly embarrassed, as though she were intruding on a private moment, which was patently ridiculous. A thought occurred to her: her little friend must have been after the flavors and scent of the mushrooms she'd been picking. Or, at least, so she tried to convince herself. It was terribly difficult to do so when the delicate creature rolled over and around in her hand, for all the world acting like a kitten in desperate need of petting. The movements, the sight of the faery exposing herself - quite lewdly exposing herself at that! - served to make the young witch, virginal as she was, quite taken aback. She lowered her eyes, smiling shyly, and suddenly yawned, her heart beat so quickened and the warmth of the day growing around her that it stole her energy away.

The faery's wings hummed softly and she rose up, drifting closer to the witch's face. A tiny, delicate hand drew impossibly small fingers through stray locks of copper curl, and the faery smiled, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which set her to blushing once more. She half considered putting up a ward, but that might have offended her little friend, and she felt relatively safe with the faery nearby. Few menfolk dared the woods at this time of year. She yawned again, and the faery smiled at her as her eyes drifted slowly closed, sleep stealing over her. 

The delicate creature drifted slowly back and forth before the witch's peaceful face, eyes intent upon the soft lips and closed eyes. She only turned once she was sure the charms had taken their full effect, and her sisterlings quickly flitted down from the tree branches where they'd been watching....waiting. 

The spate of high pitched voices, brilliant flashes of light, and the steady hum of multiple wings would have woken anyone from an ordinary sleep, but the witch was utterly enthralled, the potions and liqueurs the faery had spread liberally across her palm and fingers leaving her trapped in hallucinatory dreams. The angry debate between the diminutive faeries was heated, sparks of magic and power flickering between them as they hotly contested the right to enjoy their captive's bounty. The seducer watched, only giving quick, vehement chirps and shouts at the more aggressive faeries; they didn't want to twist her into a hag, after all. Finally, two of her sisterlings moved to join her, slipping free of the crowd and hovering just below her, looking up at her expectantly. 

She intoned the blessing of their union aloud, hand-fasting them; one of their sisterlings wrapped their arms together with strips of colorful bark and two others placed crowns of tiny flowers upon their heads. The newly wedded couple kissed, and the cloud of faeries hummed and chimed and hissed their pleasure and jealousy at the newly mated pair. The seducer gestured and the small flock of fae swarmed about the sleeping witch, squirming under her clothing and making things ready. It took a goodly number to lift the heavy woolen dress, and several more to pull down the witches soft cotton bloomers, exposing the virginal flesh beneath. The two newly hand-fasted fae discarded their ornaments and embraced, tiny hands caressing, moving, exciting.....and finally, gouging and tearing, tiny droplets of red spotting the cotton as they ripped and clawed with difficulty, removing each other's wings slowly from strangely resilient flesh. The other faeries cheered and sang, honoring the display of love and desire. 

The seducer flitted to rest upon the young witch's smooth belly, her tiny hands touching the unparted flesh carefully, feeling the soft, moist heat of the girl's body, seeking out the hidden gem in its clever folds. The sweet human girl had not yet been through menarche, which was essential - she was close, but had not crossed that fatal threshold into true womanhood yet. The seducer knelt on the girl's mons, and reached between her nether lips, sliding her tiny arms along the hot, moistening petals of the most beautiful flower of all. Her hands circled and stroked the thicker bulb of flesh at its apex, and several other fae quickly moved to help, prising the witch's labia apart, exposing her virginal flesh to the wingless pair. They stepped slowly forward, leaving tiny trails of crimson in their wake, rose petals strewn behind rather than before the wedded pair. 

The twain held on to each other's hand still, but they used their free hand and their sharp teeth to push, tear, and open the soft, delicate flesh of the witch's maidenhead, battling their way into the warmest, most sacred rose hued flesh. The girl stirred only a little, and two of the other fae quickly moved to her head, singing ancient, alien lullabies to render her deeply asleep once more, despite her strange, lush, and undoubtedly affection-filled dreams. 

A trickle of crimson spilled from her, as the hand-fasted pair fought their way into the warm heat of their seducer's victim. They were forced together by the tight channel of the witch's untried flesh, and they giggled and chirruped and squirmed, against each other, against the witch, sliding their way deeper and deeper. As they did so, the others returned the witch's bloodstained bloomers to their rightful place, as well as her dress. The seducer remained as long as she could, only darting away to escape the woolen trap at the last seconds. She settled on the witch's bosom, licking her sticky arms and hands clean slowly, feeling her sisterling's movements into the body of their nestling. 

The twain nestled and curled and squirmed along each other, their breaths desperate and excited as they tore, licked, bit at one another's bodies and flesh, scoring their tiny sexes, bloodying breasts and buttocks and backs, kissing fervently. When they reached the gateway to the girl's womb, they were forced to part; only one could enter at a time, and it was painful for all involved. The seducer watched her charge faithfully, hoping she wouldn't waken. If she did then there would be terror and most likely all three, the girl and the two hand-fasted faeries, would die in agony as mortal flesh rejected the intruders and the intruders fought to remain with inhuman strength. 

Fortune favored the fae, for the more delicate of the two was able to force her way through the tiny, tender gate of the witch's cervix, sliding bodily into the tight, soft heat of her hostess' womb.  She pushed and prodded and moved, the muscles of the witch's womb starting to flex as the drug-addled dreams and the sensations of the lustful invasion drove her closer to her climax.  She was joined by her mate, and the two squirmed together, a tiny, delicate tangle of bloodied limbs and lustful instincts, their bed finally made.  There they began to mate in earnest, mouths, fingers, tongues caressing, delving, tasting.  Not merely one another, but the soft, hot flesh they were surrounded by, their blood fertilizing the body about them, their stripped and torn flesh sinking into the soft warmth of the girl's uterus.  

The seducer cooed as she felt her sisterlings' bodies changing, the mortal girl moaning, hips thrusting under the influence of her drug addled dreams of pleasure.  The faery touched her own delicate cleft, fingers exploring deeply, plunging into her body as her sisters had invaded the mortal girl's body.  She pleasured herself over the girl's thundering, throbbing heart, even as the girl cried out, her climax finally arriving.  The delicate fae, ravished and ravaged, were crushed together, their bodied becoming one in every way as they were entombed within the living flesh of the girl, one in body and spirit as they made the girl full with their life.  The pleasure seemed endless for the witch, and the seducer sighed as she pleasured herself, feeling the secret wealth of unborn life quicken in the girl's body.  

Soon the nestling would wake, and she would consider herself a woman, mistaking the path of roses and the trickling remnants of her violation for her menarche.  She would rejoice, and the seducer would remain with her, be familiar with her....and when the time came, would lead her through the first birth.  And the one after that....and after that....until she bore her lot of faery gift, her power twisting and forming her into what the Host desired her to be.  Even after many births, she would be of use - perhaps transformed into something greater than a witch: a dryad, or perhaps a glaistig or even a nymph.  If she was found wanting, however, her usefulness at an end, she would be discarded to wither and become a hateful, broken, twisted thing: a hag or boggart, perhaps.

The faery grinned maliciously, bringing herself to the peak of pleasure and beyond as she thought of how she would rule this bearer of faery flesh....

~End