Head Over Heels Ch. 01

Nicole's Note: This story features a female POV and contains spiral eye hypnosis, headpetting, humiliation, some reference to coils sliding "between legs", dubious consent, and everything else listed in the tags. Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story!

After spending so long determined to leave the village farms and seek her fortunes out in the wilds, Primrose had never thought she could bequite so happy to see a cornfield.

The rain pounded down on her hard, drenching her clothes, as if the entire ocean had decided to pick itself up and drop itself right on a single hapless adventurer in the Greatest, Darkest Forest. She bit her lip and pulled her hood down further, then, with a sigh, cast the hood off--it was so drenched, there was really no saving her hair, even if she hadn't forgotten to pack her satin night bonnet that morning.

She felt like a bedraggled cat left out to the autumn rains as she hurried down the old path, reluctantly leaving the relative shelter of the old madrones for the exposed field. The cornstalks were not even up to her ankles yet, and the mud around them drank the rain greedily. Primrose privately thanked her stars that her grandmother had insisted on her taking the good traveling boots with her.

Not that she'd needed help preparing for her journey. She smirked, despite the rain pouring down her face and utterly ruining all the styling she'd done to her dark curls that morning. Hadn't she been preparing to go adventuring for years? Hadn't she studied at the Monastery, learned from tavern adventurers and the local Spirit Ranger? What was a little rain to someone like her?

She kept telling herself that as her right boot got left behind in the mud and she had to quickly slip her stockinged foot back inside and, using both hands, wrench foot and boot free of the bog.

Thank the gods for this field. Where there was corn, there would be a farmer. A nice old farmer, who would let her, a mysterious, no-doubt seasoned adventurer, sleep in his spare room. His attic. His cellar. His barn, for goodness' sakes.

But as she reached the far side of the field and set her foot down on a mercifully solid stone path, she frowned. The planting of the corn was erratic and without organization. No lights shown from within the forest.

Primrose groaned. Of course. An abandoned farm.

She hesitated, then scurried under a tall, leafy oak for some shelter and took off her backpack, rummaging around for a second before retrieving the old lantern she'd bought off the tinker--a lamp which now seemed pitifully useless against the pouring rain and starless sky, but it was better than nothing.

It took her several tries to light it, and her face reddened with each try. Everything was so gods-damned wet! Finally, with the third try, a warm glow flared from behind foggy glass.

As light filled the field and began dancing off the falling raindrops around her, Primrose squinted, then smiled, as she spotted... something. A house? A shack? Whatever it was, it was absolutely covered in moss, such that it almost blended in with the rest of the forest. No wonder she hadn't spotted it. But it was a building.

Feeling very proud of herself, Primrose hurried up to the entrance. It appeared to be an old abandoned barn. The peasant girl in her noted the waterlogged boards, the moss- and lichen-devoured exterior, and guessed that this field was likely only occasionally sown and harvested by a nearby town, likely one with nobody currently eager to rent it out for the last year or two. The corn that grew likely grew naturally from volunteer plants. Leftovers from previous years. This far from town--if there was still a town at all--no doubt it was an undesirable spot, used by newcomers or young farmers who needed to show they knew how to take care of a crop.

So there was no friendly farmer around to help her, no kindly farmer's wife to fix her some tea and get her a fresh change of clothes. Primrose sniffed, reaching up and wiping a trail of water from her forehead and bangs. Not that an adventurer like her required such frivolous creature comforts.

She reached forward, hesitated, then pulled on the door.

The barn door creaked with the sadness of waterlogged wood long-abandoned to the seasons as it swung reluctantly open, allowing the sweet, musty scent of old hay to wash over Primrose. As dust and must tickled her nose, Primrose sneezed.

It was a tiny sneeze--frankly a little embarrassing, and the villagers had sometimes joked that for all her talk, she sneezed like a just-hatched chicklet--but the sound nonetheless echoed riotously over the wooden walls and dirt floor.

"Excuse me!" she said instinctively. Her words likewise bounced back to her, and she couldn't help but giggle.

The barn appeared quite unoccupied--the hay in it seemed well-preserved enough, but totally untouched, and she guessed it had been stockpiled in anticipation of a harsh winter that never came. Or maybe the hay wasn't any good for some reason. Contaminated with mellow-weed or the like. Still, it smelled pleasant. The golden hills rose and fell throughout the barn and loft, promising a certain limited degree of softness and comfort.

If one didn't mind scratchiness. Primrose pulled a face. But it was better than the cold mud. Being on high ground, the barn's interior had even avoided most of the dampness.

After finding a good dry corner of the haystacks, Primrose set about getting ready for her first true night as an adventurer. She undid her nice green cloak, and paused to wring it out as thoroughly as possible before laying it out over the hay as a sort of 'sheet'. She shook rivulets of water from her curly black hair, then, very carefully, undid the blue-green ribbon she used to tie it up out of her large bright brown eyes. She didn't have anything to cover it with, so she'd just have to deal with some extra frizziness in the morning.

She set down her pack and, finally, considered taking off her boots and stockings. But she hesitated, eyeing the hay untrustingly. What if there were thistles? Her feet tingled even at the thought. Primrose had rather sensitive soles.

Besides, she assured herself, she might need to leave in a hurry. A real adventurer didn't care about sleeping with their boots on, surely.

She'd already decided not to bother with her cousin's old bedroll. It smelled like sheep. ANyways, the hay would at least be soft, even if it was scratchy. She set the bedroll aside and lay back gingerly onto the haystack.

It wasn't as scratchy as she'd expected. The hay was very fine--full of clovers and fescue--and it made for surprisingly comfortable bedding as long as she didn't mind the occasional tickle. Primrose gave a long, leisurely stretch, and sighed gratefully as she felt her joints cracking and popping with relief. Then, reaching over, she doused the lantern.

Her eyes closed.

Sleep usually came easily to Primrose. The cloistermage monk who'd taught her had liked to say she had a mind naturally unmoored, which Primrose took as a compliment--she was a free thinker, after all, and nothing like the other girls of her village. She didn't care about makeup or finding a wife or a nice, easy local trade or fancy clothes or any of that nonsense. She just went wherever her heart and whims led her. It made falling asleep easy, whether she was in bed, in a barn, or attending a particularly boring lesson.

Drifting in her thoughts like this, Primrose smiled contentedly and let her mind drift into the warm, comforting darkness of sleep. It had been a long day. She'd surely earned some...

ssssss

... she shifted.

Rest.

sssss

Primrose stirred uneasily. She could swear she'd heard something.

Rain pattered on the roof up above. Mice scurried about out of sight. From outside, a no-doubt very unhappy and bedraggled lich owl let loose a sibilant shriek.

Otherwise, silence curled around her in the barn like a cozy, slumbering housecat.

She went completely still. Her eyes fluttered open, then narrowed.

sssss

There it is again! Primrose sat bolt-upright. She looked around, eyes narrowing. Was there an animal in here with her? The brief thought of it being a bear or something flitted across her mind and made her heart race, but she quickly dismissed it. Surely a bear would avoid a place that still smelled of humans. And the door had been closed.

Her ears tingled as a new sound greeted her from above:

The loud creaking of old wood.

Was that... her brow furrowed. Was that coming from outside the barn? She couldn't see anything up in the shadowy loft, and surely anything large enough to make the wood creak like that wouldn't fit up in such a narrow space, much less have been able to climb up there with the rickety ladder.

She listened in silence for a moment, trying without success to ease her racing heart.

Another creak. Okay, that was definitely coming from above her. It was either in the loft or on the roof.

She got to her feet with a sigh and, after a pause, retrieved her sheathed sword and loosened it a little, just in case. With her other hand, she clumsily re-lit the lantern--very careful to do so close to the lantern, remembering how dangerous open flames could be in a place like this--and picked it up as well. She wasn't going to just up and leave, but... well, at least she'd take a look.

She walked over to the closed barn door.

It was hard to open from the inside--there was no handle, just a rope, and Primrose had to lean into her pull before she was able to force the door to slide to the side.

She stepped back out into the pouring rain with a grimace. The rain swept down on her from above like falling waves, thundering around her like a thousand running horses. The lantern light barely helped. It mainly seemed keen on illuminating pale raindrops.

She looked to the right. Darkness.

She looked to the left. Darker darkness.

Primrose sighed. She couldn't hear anything now--certainly not in the pouring rain. But what kind of creature would be out on a night like tonight, anyways?

She took one step further out, squinting into the black of night.

Still seeing nothing, she turned to walk back inside--

--and Primrose tripped.

Primrose was light on her feet, graceful, even, and quite unaccustomed to tripping and falling on her face like some clumsy ditz. So when her foot hooked underneath some sort of tree root, she thrust her arms out, flailed, dropped her lantern, positively flung her sword away from her, and fell right down on her butt in the mud.

The lantern went out, and darkness flooded in.

After a moment of pure shock, Primrose lunged for where the lantern had been. She had to feel around in the mud for a moment before, to her relief, she felt the familiar warm smoothness of glass. She grabbed the lantern by its loop, reached into her pocket, and drew out a match.

She cursed herself as she struggled to light the stupid thing, even as her heart raced with lingering panic. She could swear that root hadn't been there before. Her trousers were getting soaked, but she didn't want to present any bigger of a target by getting up. Not until she could see her surroundings. Some fear still dripped from her heart like the mud dripping from her arms.

The match lit, then went out immediately from the rain. "Fuck!" she muttered, pulling out another. Her anger gave her luck, perhaps, as this one flared into life on the first try. She quickly reached in and lit the wick before this fire could die too.

Reassuring light poured back into her world, and she gave a groan of annoyed relief.

"Oh, thank goodnessss!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice right in front of her. "I was beginning to worry."

Primrose froze as stiff as a stick of driftwood.

Slowly, she raised her eyes back to the open barn door--and a bit above her--and met a pair of beautiful golden eyes. And attached to those eyes, just inside the open doorway, was the most bewitchingly pretty face Primrose thought she had ever seen. The face happened to be hanging upside-down.

Primrose blinked slowly. The eyes mimicked her blink.

It took her another full moment to understand what she was seeing.

It was a woman. A gorgeous woman with ruby-red hair cascading down and pooling on the barn floor beneath her. She had a comely round face flattered by a cute wide button nose, cedar-red dimples rising over a dazzling, winsome smile that immediately sent fireflies swarming in Primrose's belly, that instinctive fluttering oh-gods-a-pretty-girl-is-smiling-at-me-what-do-I-do panic. Not even the fact that the woman's narrow waist swept out into a vast fine-scaled serpentine tail of red, black and yellow stripes, which dangled her from the hayloft above, was enough to dispel Primrose's instinctive shyness. Especially not when hanging upside-down put those breasts, so casually gripped by the lamia's tight crop top, jiggling so easily in view, and bared the lamia's soft, cozy-looking tummy...

... and those hands, those beautiful, delicate hands, those fingers so long and dainty and moving with such grace as they ran idly along her form, as if habitually searching around for something to touch...

Primrose blushed and ducked her head. "W-What are you--"

"Oh, I'm sssooo sssorry, sssweetie!" The lamia blinked rapidly, a bit of brighter coral pink rising in her cheeks. She swung and twisted to extend out of the barn and right-side-up, rain pouring down on her head as she came to loom over Primrose. Concern shone in her lovely honeyed eyes. "I didn't mean to ssstartle you!"

Primrose stared for a long moment, flustered embarrassment warring with indignation warring with fear warring with excitement. "What... it's, um, it's fine." Her training took over as she remembered the Toxin Ranger's advice: Always be polite with fey. You never know what kind of fey you're dealing with until she's halfway through spiriting you away to join her harem. Her cheeks warmed a little as she remembered that last part. "Um... is this your barn?"

"Oh, no." The lamia shook her head, seemingly oblivious to how this caused water from her hair to splash down on the already-drenched Primrose. "Well, I mean, I sssuppose ssso. I do sssleep here." Her head tilted. "My name is Opal. What's yours?"

Primrose blinked rapidly, then, feeling self-conscious of her position lying beneath the gorgeous creature, struggled to her feet and brushed herself off as best she could. Gods, she was a mess. Her clothes, that was to say. "My name is Primrose," she said, trying to make her voice calm, assertive. "Primrose of Dawnvale. It's a pleasure to meet you, Opal." She curtseyed.

"Mm. The pleasure is mine." Opal's eyes twinkled, and she pulled back slowly to bob before Primrose, though still slightly above her. Briefly, Primrose noted that the sparkles in Opal's eyes seemed to be different colors than her native yellow, but the sparkles soon faded as the lamia continued. "It isn't every night I have visitors. Are you... a messsssenger bard, perhaps?"

"As a matter of fact," Primrose said, aiming her chin proudly upwards, "I happen to be an adventurer."

"Oh, I'm sssorry to hear that. What did you do?"

"What?" Primrose blinked. "I... nothing!"

"Oh! Of course." Opal's eyes widened slightly, and she hurriedly shook her head. "I apologize, that was very rude of me to asssk. Your reasonsss are your own."

"No, I'm--" Primrose grimaced. "I chose to be an adventurer!"

"Well sssaid! Don't let anyone tell you--"

"Not everyone who's an adventurer did, like, a crime or something, okay?" Primrose pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "I just--I'm an adventurer, okay? I go around fighting monsters and--and defending towns, and the sort."

"Ah." The lamia hesitated, then smiled. "Sssorry. I'm being very presumptuousss, aren't I? It's just--I haven't met an adventurer ssso young before. How old are you, twenty?"

"Twenty-four," Primrose said firmly, feeling a little defensive now and deciding to round up a couple years. "I look the same age as you, anyways. Though I don't know how... fey work. No offense!" Her eyes widened as she realized how that comment might have sounded.

"I am twenty-four as well." Opal giggled, appearing unoffended. "Beastfey work much akin to your kind, Primrose. It's lovely to meet you."

"Yeah." Primrose gave a little smile back. She could feel her indignation fading, replaced with that same original shyness. She concealed it as best she could, raising her chin and trying to look authoritative. "So, you're a corn snake lamia, right?" she said nonchalantly.

"That's right!" Opal seemed impressed, which gave Primrose a smug little thrill--she'd sort of been guessing. She paused, glancing up at the sky--Primrose saw transparent eyelids flicking down over those massive serpentine golden orbs, shielding her from the rain briefly before she looked back to Primrose. "Would you like to come back into the barn? This weather is sssimply dreadful."

"Oh! Um, I..." Primrose bit her lip. That shyness rose to her throat and paralyzed her as she stared up into the lamia's eyes. "I should find somewhere else to sleep. I'm..." She trailed off limply. I'm intruding. You're just inviting to be polite. Pretty girls never invite me anywhere. Besides, I don't want to seem desperate.

But going out in the rain... that could be dangerous. The storm didn't seem to be letting up. It occurred to her that for a rookie adventurer, going wandering out into the night like this could be a recipe for disaster.

But so could accepting the invitation and ending up making a fool of herself, she thought, gulping.

Opal seemed to misconstrue her hesitancy. Her smile widened slightly. "Oh! I... I hope you're not afraid of being hypnotized. I'm a fair host, I promise."

Primrose gave a start. Her cheeks reddened, and she said with a defensive bluster, "Oh, w-well, I'm not concerned about that." She sniffed haughtily. "That sort of thing might work on village yokels and bards, but I've seen my share of would-be hypnotists, and... y-yeah. I'm not worried."

There was a pause. Rain fell between them, splashing in the increasingly deep puddles around Primrose's feet. Opal's head tilted slightly to the side as a smile quirked across her full inky-black lips.

"Oh?"

Primrose felt her cheeks getting even redder. There was so much amusement in that single syllable, that one vowel. So much doubt. She covered her embarrassment with more bluster. "Y-Yeah! I'm--no offense, of course," she nodded respectfully, "but I've just seen a lot worse than you. More hypnotic. That sort of thing."

"Oh, really?" Opal rested her chin in one hand, smiling down at Primrose now. Her eyes shimmered with what seemed to be... curiosity? Primrose couldn't tell. "Do tell~"

Primrose bristled a little. "Well, you know." She tossed her wet curls back airily. "Oreads, nymphs, mothgirls. A succubus, once." She felt a pang--okay, that was gilding the lily a little bit. "Though that one was a draw," she added, trying to look at least somewhat humble.

"Oh, my!"

"Point being, I've been around the bend a few times." She thumbed her chest with a casual shrug. "You're, you know. C-Cute and all." She coughed, her show of confidence suddenly wavering, before she picked it back up and continued brashly, "But I'm not about to get hypnotized by some random fey. But it was nice, um, meeting you." Sheer momentum had her gesturing casually into the pounding rain behind her. "I'm gonna head off. I just needed to catch my breath; thank you for your hospitality."