Song of the Magicicada

"I'm not your lady. Tell your dick to stop touching me."

"Why would I do that?" His leer spoke more than his words.

She pushed away from him as the cicada lit upon giant branch. Looking down, she gauged the distance to the ground in miles.

"What is this place? Why is everything so big? And you, I thought faeries were tiny things. You're almost eight feet tall."

He laughed out loud as he jumped from the bug's back. "I am small by your human terms. Everything here is the same size as in your world. It's you who is no longer your regular size."

She ignored his outstretched hand, jumping onto a branch as big as a tree trunk. "How can that be?" she demanded. "I'm still me. I don't shrink."

"Ah, but you did." He led the way toward the heart of the tree. "When you swam through the tunnel and entered my world, your body took on the dimensions of our kind. It was a bit of faerie magic so you and I could become acquainted."

"Change me back!" she cried. "You had no right. I don't belong here."

"Then why did you come?"

"It was the bugs. They drove me under the falls. I had no choice."

"Everyone has a choice, sweetling." He ignored her further protests as he led the way through a knothole in the trunk of the tree.

"Holy crap," she whispered.

The hollow of the tree was a world all its own. It was house—a castle, even—with golden walls hung in gossamer spider webs as intricately woven as fine tapestries. Soft cotton down covered the floors, with toadstools and moss set about much like furniture. Blossoms of all colors graced the corners and ceiling. Everywhere there was a profuse array of colors and comforts.

Diminutive, giggling creatures appeared from nowhere, taking her hands, leading her to large raised dais in the center. It was covered in moss and downy feathers with a golden canopy draped in silvery webs. They forced her to sit, their tiny hands touching her with warmth until she was fairly glowing.

"I will leave you now, so you may feed and recover," Oberon said. He bowed slightly, his elongated hand rising in a mock flourish. "If you have need of anything, the imps will present it. You have only to think of it and it's yours."

He was gone, leaving her to the mercy of the strange little creatures. They looked like tiny babies with grimacing faces. Her mind told her she should be running in terror, but her body was falling victim to the warm pleasure of being stroked and petted. Something was held to her lips, a tiny flower in the shape of a cup. She drank greedily of the sweet, pink liquid. The warmth became a languid fire spreading through her limbs and making her weak.

Their hands were in her hair and caressing her limbs with a warm oily substance. She chewed when something succulent passed through her lips, swallowing obediently as the hands worked relentlessly to massage away her fatigue. She was too relaxed to protest when tiny fingers played over her nipples, too warm to care when her legs were pulled apart and something hot spread over her mound. Her eyes barely focused when she saw something scraped against her skin, removing her pubic hair.

Her body was forced gently back over the downy bed, her knees lifted to her chest, as more of the hot substance was carefully applied to her labia and the flesh surrounding her anus. She giggled as the scraping tool cleared away the fine hairs there, leaving her more naked than she was before.

And wet. She could feel her own wetness coating her thighs as the tiny creatures worked. Another cup of pink liquid was poured down her throat while the stroking continued. Then she was suddenly alone, her body too languid to rise up and look. She didn't care. She was heated to the point of burning, her nipples hard, legs spread and waiting.

What was wrong with her? She didn't understand what was happening, and she was past the point of caring. All was pleasure, decadence, arousal. The bed of moss shifted slightly, causing her head to turn. Oberon was back, reclining next to her, his long, nimble fingers tracing a pattern on her belly.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded, turning her head away. She should be fighting, should be running for her life—or at least trying to cover herself—but all she could manage was a soft moan. At the end of the bed was the strangest flower she'd ever seen. It mesmerized her as he continued to stroke the flesh of her torso. The flower hovered in the air, its purple petals glowing with a light all their own. She reached to touch it, watched in amazement as a shower of sparks poured like a fountain from it. Her touch caused a sensation somewhere deep inside her body.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Your life flower, my sweet, my, but you are a delectable morsel." His mouth closed over her left nipple, suckling until her back arched.

"My flower? What do you mean?"

He sighed, leaning back with an expression of mild tolerance on his face. "Every human has a life flower. Some are small and colorless. Some are shriveled and never blossom full, and some—like yours—burst forth with color and light. Yours is the brightest I've ever seen."

She smiled, humming softly with pleasure when his palm grazed her right breast. "Does that mean I'm special?"

"You, my lady fair, are the most special of all—a rare blossom to be savored with great care and patience." His fingers closed over her nipple, twirling it gently and stoking the fire burning in her center.

She moaned again, trying to move closer to his hand. He cupped the other breast with his free hand, taking the nipple in his mouth once more. His tail pushed her legs farther apart, stroked her thighs and belly. Then a fourth appendage—his unusual phallus perhaps—made circular trails along the inside of one thigh.

But all her energy was concentrated in the fire ignited by his mouth. He pulled harder on the nipple, as if he could suck her very soul from it. The sensation bordered on pain, but the pleasure was enough to make her insane. The flower at the end of the bed glowed brighter with the shower of sparks nearly continual.

"Your energy is pure," he said.

She opened her eyes to find him hovering a scant few inches above her. His wings made a slight humming sound, his hands roaming at will over her flesh. Then he reached out, allowing the flower's sparks to land in his palm. His tongue was reptilian with a forked tip. It was something which barely registered as he lapped at the glowing sparks in his hand.

His expression when he tasted the sparks was one of pure ecstasy. She frowned in confusion, but soon forgot about it when his tail curled about her breast and massaged it. His hands pulled her knees up, his head dipping low. That amazing tongue darted over the wet flesh of her lower lips, lapping up her juices in almost desperate fashion. He pushed her knees up to her chest and allowed his long, powerful tail to imprison them there, thoroughly exposing her to his mouth.

His hands stroked lower, his fingernails leaving red marks on the flesh of her pinioned thighs. It was too late to notice how little spiders had woven threads over her out-stretched arms, effectively restraining them. She tried to kick them off when they moved to her ankles, fashioning silken ropes that they affixed to the wood posts at the head of the bed. She was completely trapped.

It was a hard battle she fought against the delicious pleasure stirred by his mouth. She began to struggle, tried to wiggle away from him only to hear his careless chuckle. He rose above her, watching as she struggled in vain, but struggle she did. His now-free tail lashed out, delivering a stinging blow to her exposed ass. She cried out, tears stinging her eyes.

"You're mine now, little human. I will do with you what I please, and you will drown in the pleasure."

To punctuate his words, he reached between her trapped knees and pinched one erect nipple. The sensation was icy-hot, drawing another moan from her lips. The flower erupted in another shower of sparks, casting a bright glow over the entire room.

A parade of naked faeries flew in; each carrying what appeared to be empty walnut shells. Each of his touches brought another profusion of sparks, tiny embers to be collected by the leering troupe. They could see her, snicker, do as they pleased and she could do nothing to protect herself.

Still, there was the pleasure he ignited. He dropped low again, his tongue slithering over her hardened clit. She cried out as the faeries giggled and went about their task. When she opened her mouth again, his tail darted in, filling it to the point of gagging.

And his tongue worked on, curling around her clit, squeezing, pinching. He pulled so hard on it, she feared it would come off, but the pleasure was unbelievable. When he pulled his tail from her throat, she screamed again. One of the watching faeries whispered something to her neighbor and they laughed together.

Circe had never known such humiliation. One faerie, a male of smaller stature than Oberon, reached out a hand to pinch her nipples. When she cried out in protest, Oberon's tail lashed her ass again, bringing another round of laughter from the gathered faeries.

The tormenting faerie returned to his task of collecting embers and left her to her fate. Oberon's mouth was relentless, taking her to the point of climax before backing off again. She begged for release and was rewarded with another swat of his tail.

One finger entered her, finding the most tender of spots as it moved around. He followed it with a second and a third until his entire narrow hand was inside her pussy. The shower became blinding, bringing a joyful cry from the audience. They sang her name in unison, a further humiliation to her already horrendous predicament.

She was going to explode if he didn't stop. Then he entered her ass with a single finger while his miraculous tongue pulled hard on her clit. The explosion came with a river of fiery embers that covered the floor and filled the air. Her body convulsed so hard she tore one ankle loose, allowing her foot to come down and conk Oberon on top of the head. Again she was rewarded with the stinging lash of his tail, but she was past caring.

The faeries cheered, the room filled to capacity with their naked bodies. They scooped up glowing embers, carrying them out the door in huge loads.

Suddenly, Oberon pulled way, leaving her empty and shuddering on the bed. Her arms and legs were freed, but only for a minute. She soon found herself suspended above the bed, spread-eagle for all to see. The imps reappeared, rubbing her flesh with more of the warm oil and pouring pink liquid into her mouth.

After such an orgasm, she thought her body would need time to recover, but already she was on fire again. Fresh secretions from her pussy dribbled over the crack of her ass.

"Now, my little human, you shall truly be mine." Oberon hovered upright between her open thighs. His fingers pinched her nipples, while his nimble cock stroked her sensitive clit.

Then he thrust hard, sending his cock deep into her sodden pussy. It swelled and expanded until she thought it would tear her in two. The thing moved about inside her, twisting, turning, driving her to the point of insanity. His tail assaulted her from behind, driving into her ass. She had never been one to enjoy anal play, but this was something different. It was near pain, but the sensations of ecstasy overrode it. Soon she was screaming again, her body convulsing every time she came near to orgasm.

He would stop, allowing her to come down a little before pushing her to the edge once more. His agile fingers weren't idle either, teasing her nipples and her clit, stroking her inflamed flesh and punishing her with little swats.

The crowd cheered on, gathering the sparks from her tired flower. When she was finally allowed to climax, it was so powerful she feared the tree would catch fire from the embers spewing forth. She convulsed hard, her body arching against the tether of webs. His cock continued to pound her pussy, his tail driving deeper into her ass until all was darkness.

She was unsure if the fire in her flower had died and left them without illumination, or if she had lost consciousness. Whatever it was, when she opened her eyes again, the room was dimly lit and she was lying unbound on the bed. Every movement was excruciating, her muscles crying out in protest after such activity. With great difficulty, she raised her head and judged herself to be alone.

She managed to sit up, saw her life flower at the foot of the bed. It looked sad, like a flower left in a vase too long. The petals drooped, the glow hardly more than the flicker of a candle. Her mind filled with fear—not of the unknown world she had entered, but of what would happen if the flower died. Would she die too?

It took great effort to swing her rubbery legs off the bed, and even more effort to stand. She fell back on the bed, biting her lip against the moan that threatened to surface. Again, she hauled herself to her feet and forced herself to remain upright. On a toadstool table lay several items, including a small pot of the rich, pink liquid the imps had been pouring down her throat. She poured a cup, her thirst crying out to be slaked. After one great gulp, though, her body began to heat once more. Despite all she'd been through, she was wet with desire again. It was a vile drug, she decided. It had been her undoing, so she dumped the contents of the pot on the floor.

Hunger gnawed at her insides. She saw what appeared to be a grape the size of a melon. Beside it was a blade of sorts. She used it to slice off a chunk of fruit and then she sniffed at something that looked like cheese. For good measure, she took a tiny bite, finding it to be very cheese-like indeed. But it wasn't like any cheese she had eaten before. It was far more delectable and each bite she took gave her more strength.

After she washed it down with the juice and pulp of the grape, she decided to find a way to escape. As she neared the doorway, she heard voices. One voice was feminine, angry and harsh. The other was Oberon's. Circe hid behind the wall to listen.

"You'll use her up, you fool," the female said. "You could make her last for months and feed the entire colony until the next year of the cicada."

"I know what I'm doing, Mother," Oberon said. "It was just one session and you saw how much dust it produced. She's a veritable fountain of lust and energy. I could milk her until the flower dries up and dies and it will be enough to sustain us."

"I felt that way too, and we nearly starved to death."

"That's because you let the man escape. Then you had to punish him. You'd be better off reversing the curse and using him until he dies."

"He was mine to punish," Oberon's mother declared. "It amuses me to see him splashing about in the pond like the bottom feeder he is."

"And you let his light go to waste while the kingdom dwindled. Lucky for you my sister was able to find someone more compliant the next time. Without her, we surely would have died. She was a strong little human, lasted almost a year. Mine will last longer."

"I saw the girl's flower, my son. It's fading. Let her rebuild her strength."

"You worry too much, Mother."

The female sighed. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about her having the vigor to escape before sundown. Once night falls, she'll be trapped for thirteen years, if she lives that long."

Circe clamped a hand over her mouth to silence a startled cry.

"Fine, I'll let her rest for a while, if it pleases you, Mother." Oberon's voice seemed to be drifting away. "But I shall decide the best way to deal with her. With her energy, it will be a long time before the flower withers and dies."

Peeking around the edge of the opening, Circe saw Oberon flying away with a naked female beside him. Now was her chance. She had to get away.

As she thought about the conversation she'd overheard, she tried to make sense of it. Were they actually talking about killing her? If her life flower died, wouldn't that mean she would die? And what was this business about being trapped after sundown? They were going to keep her prisoner and murder her with bondage and sex.

She decided there had to be some way out of this mess. And she would have to move quickly. Judging by the angle of the sun, she only had a few hours left; if it was true she only had until sundown. But should she do something about her flower? What if she were to leave it and the faeries decided to destroy it? She would be killed.

With great care, she walked in a circle around the flower. Its petals seemed a bit brighter than before. Perhaps the food she'd taken had helped to restore it. Gingerly cupping her hands around the blossom, she felt a strange rush of energy. Taking it from where it hovered, she started toward the door and froze in her tracks when she heard Oberon's voice.

"Tell the council I'll be along, Mother. I need to get the scepter."

His scepter? From what she saw of his attack on the catfish, the scepter was his source of power. If she found it first, she could carry it away with her. It might give her the edge she needed to get away.

She glanced around, almost shrieking in delight when she discovered its resting place. It appeared suspended by the air of a small nook in the far corner. If she'd known more of faeries and their lore, she would've known that to touch the prince's scepter would mean certain death for a mere mortal. But she didn't know the rules. She snatched it up and looked for a hiding place. The thing was nearly as long as her body, but hardly weighed anything.

She made for the shadows behind the bed. The shadows were illuminated, though, by the glow of her flower—and her hand burned where she clutched the prince's scepter. She wanted to drop it and save what was left of her appendage, but she couldn't. Her fingers would not release it. The fire spread upward along her arm, farther still to her entire body.

"What have you done?" she heard Oberon yell. He was standing before her crouching body, his face a mask of rage.

When he reached for her, she cried out and shrank away. "No. Don't touch me!"

A stream of light poured from the scepter, hitting Oberon square in the chest. He flew back against the far wall, lying in the carpet of cottonwood down like ragdoll. Pulling himself to his knees, he fixed her with a killing glare.

"It's not possible," he said. "You should be dead."

"Why?"

"It's your energy," he said. "It's as strong as the fey. That's it, isn't it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Oberon climbed to his feet, pain showing in his face with each movement. "The scepter—you touched it. You wielded its magic. Any other mortal would be burned alive, but you command its power. You should be dead."

"I'm alive," she spat back. "I'm alive and I'm going to stay that way. I heard what you said. You're planning to fuck me to death so you and those other demons can feed on my energy. No fucking way! Circe is out!"

She blasted him again with pink fire and ran past, clutching the scepter under her arm while cradling the flower in one hand. Darting through the door, she nearly collided with the giant cicada. It buzzed so loudly at her; she nearly dropped her prizes to cover her ears. As it was, she stumbled over the edge of the tree branch and landed squarely on the one below. She had a moment to look down, cringing at the distance to the ground.

"If only I had an elevator," she whispered.

In a fiery rush of energy from the scepter, the branches around her began to shake and shimmy. Vines moved of their own accord, slithering along the branches, weaving together to form a basket. She jumped in just as the buzzing cicada landed on the branch where she once stood. Pointing the scepter at the giant bug, she yelled, "Go away," sending the creature hurtling high into the sky. She lost sight of it in the tree limbs overhead just as the basket began to descend.