The Honey Trap

For those who follow my work more closely, this story is strictly non-canon, just because Alrek's never actually been to the Wild Continent in-canon. For those who don't, no worries—this story is pretty self-explanatory.

*****

"You're just getting so silly, aren't you? So silly and sleepy. Such a sweet boy..."

"Would you stop that?" Alrek scowled down at the large champagne bottle strapped to his belt. It was glowing a pale pink, and the lights spiraling inside—and the contorting, writhing body—were almost hypnotic.

"You never want me to stop," a resonant voice inside whispered. "You wanna be a good, silly, horny—YEEK!"

Well, not almost. He gave the bottle a little shake, causing the wicked bubble sprite to go bouncing around, bonking off of the sides. She glared at him through the thick, hypnosis-dampening glass.

"I said, stop it," Alrek snapped.

"Fuck you!"

"We could've been getting along a lot better this whole journey if you talked like that from the get-go."

She pouted. "Well, can you blame me for trying?"

Alrek chewed his inner cheek. "Considering you're being sent to this 'Verdant Ward' place because you kept trying to brainwash people... yeah, I think so. That'd make sense, right?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. She was a tiny thing, barely larger than an average fairy—hence the 'celebration-sized' champagne bottle. She was slender and pale, with a mane of bright wavy red hair done up in a massive topknot. Tall, too—maybe eight inches. Her eyes smoldered a deep purple thanks to the red glass and the pink glow. They were naturally blue, Alrek was pretty sure, and just a bit too large to be proportional. Sparkles hung around her in the bottle, like moths around a lamp.

Alrek couldn't wait to be done with this quest. Not that he had any problem with the Wild Continent in general, but every fey he met seemed to expect him to know the customs, and he did not speak even a smattering of the local tongues. Every fey he met also seemed to expect him to fuck them, and though they weren't usually inclined to push the issue, the social anxiety this inflicted was only slightly preferable to the risk of being brainwashed.

"You can be as pissed as you like," he said, patting the bottle and continuing through the bamboo forest. "But brainwash a barmaid, you go to the Ward. Seems like a simple, uh, cause-and-effect to me."

"Fuck off. If I weren't in this bottle, I'd be brainwashing the shit out of you."

Alrek snorted. "You're, what, two inches tall?"

"I'm eight and a half inches!" she snarled, incensed. "And you wouldn't be laughing if I were able to cover you in sparkles... spiraling, sparkling, catching your eyes... ooh, sinking... sinking..."

Alrek rolled his eyes. "You're hypnotizing yourself off the reflections in the glass again.

There was a pause.

"I knew that."

~ ~ ~ ~

"Is this really the place?" Alrek wasn't asking Verre, of course. Just thinking aloud as he studied the great silver gates—currently open, conveniently. "I was expecting, like, a dungeon, or some kinda miserable castle."

He strode inside, keeping his eyes peeled for trouble. The Verdant Ward was apparently prison to countless mischievous fey, and though they were somewhat controlled here, he was given to understand that the main controls were the two Wardens who kept them in line. How they did so he wasn't sure.

He made his way past a few tall hazelnut trees to a small, pleasant-looking house, and knocked at the door.

He waited.

"Maybe they're not home," Verre said, sounding a bit too eager. "Maybe they're out. Better leave me by the doorstep and, um..."

"Yeah, sure." Alrek rolled his eyes. He'd been warned very firmly about his prisoner's eagerness to be left unattended. If someone wasn't aware of her tricks, and wasn't as strong-willed as Alrek happened to be, they would be easy enough to trick into staring into Verre's eyes. And she'd be free pretty damn quickly after that.

They waited in silence.

Alrek knocked again and waited.

"Huh." Verre sounded surprised." Maybe they're not home."

"Shut up." Alrek knocked again, louder.

After fifteen minutes of Alrek growing increasingly impatient—and Verre growing increasingly insistent—Alrek began to suspect that they weren't home.

He sat down on the steps, resting one hand on the bottle on his hip to hide Verre from view. Well, shit. He didn't like complications, but now things were getting complicated. He had a few choices.

He could wait here and hope somebody showed up. He didn't like that choice, but it was probably the safest.

He could leave. Not really an option—he wasn't getting paid if he didn't complete the delivery, and there was no way he was leaving a creature as dangerous as Verre unattended.

Or he could look around for the Wardens. This wasn't a great option, but it might get him out of here faster, especially if he was careful and sneaky.

Alrek chewed his inner cheek. No. Better to wait.

~ ~ ~ ~

Alrek waited about two hours, and the sun was getting low in the sky when he stood up. "Okay, screw it."

He didn't want to be here after dark; he knew that much. All sorts of fey could sneak up on him in the dark, and the Ward held all sorts of fey who would. He'd heard they even had a particularly weak umbra hag in custody nowadays, and as far as he knew, most of the 'prisoners' were essentially free range. Alrek looked around, squinting against the dim light.

There was a cottage atop a hill he'd noticed earlier. Maybe, despite appearances, that was where the Wardens lived.

He started walking, ignoring the tune Verre had begun to hum.

~ ~ ~ ~

Alrek was already on his guard when he saw a pretty blonde sitting next to the cottage door, playing with three elaborately-carved tops. She stared at the tops, seemingly spellbound. When she looked up at him, and her face split into a wide grin, and he noticed the deep gold of her eyes—and the gossamer wings just barely visible fluttering behind her back—he took a step back.

Thriae. Honey fey. Sometimes referred to as 'meadbrewers'. Even in the Wild East, the Thriae were a rapacious, fearsome species of conquerors—and they didn't conquer through bloodshed. They were known as brilliant, cunning, manipulative, arrogant...

"Hi!" she said excitedly, eyes still slightly out of focus. She rose to her feet, swaying slightly. "S-So good to see you again, um... Master."

"Ooh, look," Verre cooed. "Those tops have spirals on 'em. I bet she's been hypnotizing herself. What a good girl!"

"Uh-huh!" Sylvia blinked, then nodded rapidly. "Yes, Mistress. Sylvia has been good. Sylvia loves it here. Mm..."

"Are they all like this?" Alrek muttered. "Or is this just a her thing?"

Sylvia giggled. "Ummm... uh-huh!"

"Sylvia," Verre said softly, musically. "Syyylvia."

"Ooh." Sylvia's eyelids fluttered. "H-Hi, Mistress. You're, like... so... sparkly..."

"I know I am," Verre said smugly. "Listen, do you wanna be a g—"

Alrek placed a hand over the bottle and waved it until Sylvia's eyes lost some of that bubble sprite glaze. "Sylvia, do you know where the Wardens are?"

"Mm..." Sylvia nodded dreamily, smiling up at him. "Ooh. I thought you were Senya. Hee!" She beamed. "Like, it'd be pretty bad if I tried to brainwash you the way we like to brainwash him. Heehee." She kicked her feet idly, causing her short blue skirt to ride up a little. "You don't even look like him. All rough and strong, right?"

"...Okay. So where is the Warden?"

"Um..." Sylvia put a finger to her lips, clearing thinking hard, struggling to shake off the lingering trance. "Gosh, I dunno. Ooh!" Her eyes lit up, and she drew a slip of paper and quill out of gods-knew-where. She pressed the tip of the quill to her tongue and started to write.

"What is she doing?" Alrek muttered.

"Dunno, Snatch," Verre said. "She seems battier than a belfry to me, but—"

"Here!" Sylvia rolled the slip up and whistled a few short notes.

A message bird dropped out of the sky and perched on her hand. She beamed at the creature, tucked the slip of paper into a little pocket strapped to its leg, and sent it flying back into the air. Sylvia clapped her hands happily, then turned to face Alrek with a big smile.

"We have message birds now!" she said, redundantly. "Birdy's, like, um, gonna go get the Wardens." She clasped her hands together in her lap, bouncing slightly in place. "While we wait for Senya and Kitten to arrive, though, you wanna come inside?"

Alrek grimaced. "I don't..."

He glanced behind him, and noticed how close the sun was to setting. A faint whistling reached him over the fields and bamboo forests.

Music. Panpipes.

"This place is wild," he muttered. Louder, he said, "Fine. Let's go inside."

"Yay!" She opened the door and bounced through, beckoning for him to follow. Still wary, but preferring the devil he knew, Alrek followed.

Inside, the cottage was surprisingly—and suspiciously—roomy. Alrek followed Sylvia into a split room, with a counter dividing a quaint little kitchen from a cozy living room area. A fireplace crackled behind the very soft-looking armchair. He noticed Sylvia trying to steer him towards that chair, and pointedly did not sit.

"Such a nice home you have," Verre said, her tone sly and calculated.

"Aw, thanks!" Sylvia beamed at the jar, her eyes sparkling with delight. "You're such a sweetie, Miss—ooh, sorry, what was your name?"

"Mistress is fine!" Verre chirped.

As she and Sylvia giggled and chattered, Alrek studied his surroundings intently. It was a very nice place, somewhat reminiscent of a goblin maid's home in the... well, homeyness of it. The fire cast a warm glow over everything—it was somewhat strange, as Alrek didn't recall seeing a chimney when he'd approached the house. The kitchen seemed well-stocked, if cramped. The far wall had three doors, all shut.

He could swear he heard sounds coming from one of those doors... faint gasps, whines, moans... wet sounds...

Sensing someone had moved very close, Alrek turned and jumped. Sylvia was standing right behind him, her eyes big and gold, a big, happy smile on her pretty face. For a moment, Alrek struggled to ward off any hypnotic effect reaching his mind.

Then he realized she was beaming at... Verre.

"That's right," Verre said, her tone as conversational as ever, "it's nice to just, you know, sink deeper and deeper..."

"Deeper!" Sylvia giggled and nodded eagerly, her tone also still conversational and bubbly. But her eyes spoke of a very deep struggle taking place within her—one the Thriae was losing handily. One she was perhaps eager to forfeit.

Alrek waved a hand hurriedly in front of the bottle, disrupting Sylvia's gaze. Sylvia blinked, looking almost disappointed. "Okay, that's enough of that. How long until—"

He was cut off as Sylvia thrust a hot mug into his hands, nimbly taking his fingers and wrapping them around the handle before he had time to respond. She patted his hand and smiled brightly up at him. "Hey, like, can I interest you in a drink?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Her lips were very plump and full, Alrek noted uncomfortably.

"No, thanks." Alrek set the mug down on the coffee table. Sylvia was way within his personal space, so he took a step back, reluctantly sitting on the couch. From her sparkling eyes, he couldn't shake the sense that was exactly what she had wanted. "I don't drink anything a Thriae hands me. No offense."

"Ooh." Sylvia blinked. "How come? Like, oh my gosh, Thriae drinks are just the best." She started to move as if to sit next to Alrek, and he blocked her with his leg and a glare. She was totally unfazed, though. Alrek had a sneaking suspicious she had never left the pleasure-trance they'd found her in.

"How much honey did you put in that milk?"

Sylvia concealed a bashful grin. "Aw. Only a tablespoon or two!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not here to play around." Alrek crossed his arms, staring the ditzy fey down. "I'm just here until—"

The nearby door clicked open, and the strong smell of musk and honey wafted out as two tall, impossibly curvy Thriae strode in, their hips swaying with every step, their hands running down their impossibly narrow waists—and each other's. Unlike Sylvia, who wore only a short skirt and midriff-baring crop top, each wore thin white t-shirts and blue boyshorts that left... slightly more to the imagination.

They stopped short, seeing Alrek, and quickly stopped groping each other. "Ooh, Sylvia," exclaimed one, her eyes widening, "you didn't tell us we had company!"

"Yeah!" Sylvia clapped her hands together excitedly. "I didn't wanna, like, interrupt you while you were havin' fun. Don't worry, though! I got him all happy for us!"

"No, she didn't." Alrek's eyes narrowed. "I'm here to deliver this bubble sprite to the Warden. If this is going where I think it is, though, I'm just gonna leave and take my chances with whatever's outside."

"No, no!" One of the newcomer Thriae put her hands up quickly. "Like, we're not gonna brainwash you. We aren't allowed—Wardens would be, like, soooo disappointed in us."

"Kitten might not even eat us out!" the other sulked. "Like, they can't really resist us, but they can stop visiting if we're naughty." She glared. "Sylvia."

"Oh, yeah." Sylvia seemed to deflate slightly. "I forgot that's how things run now. Stupid sexy Wardens."

They turned back to Alrek, who, still sitting on the couch, was beginning to feel a little like a bug in a jar. The two Thriae newcomers bounced up, reaching out honey-slick hands to shake. "Pleased to meet you!" one of them said.

He ignored the hands. "Who are you people?"

They exchanged wry grins. "I'm, um, Lala," said one, "and this is Lata. You gotta excuse Sylvi—she's been denied her orgasm privileges until she stops trying to brainwash the Wardens."

"Like, more than she's s'posed to," Lata said, winking. "It's okay to play, but trying to hack the collar is naughty." She glanced over, petting Sylvia's head as Sylvia sat on the arm of the couch next to him. Alrek scooted away from her, but she seemed more intent on the champagne bottle, anyways.

"Great. So you're all prisoners, right?" Alrek shifted slightly as Sylvia practically oozed into the seat next to him. He dimly heard Verre cooing at Sylvia, and realizing she was probably hypnotizing the Thriae again, he placed a hand on the bottle. But Sylvia didn't seem to be doing anything just yet. And all of Verre's chants seemed to mostly be about Sylvia playing with herself. Verre was just giving herself a show.

"I guess!" Lata giggled. She sat down on the couch opposite Alrek. "I mean, like, oh my gosh, it's soooo much fun here!"

"The Wardens are so cute," Lala purred, sitting beside Lata. "Sometimes we just like to push Kitten between our legs and hold her... juuust out of reach, and get her to beg to lick us out. We love it when our playthings beg for us." She glanced over, her fingers dancing along Lata's inner thighs.

"Sometimes I like to just drip honey onto little Senya's cock until he's just, like, a total mess," Lata said, licking her lips.

"Great. Wonderful." Alrek snorted. "So not to tempt fucking fate here, but is there a reason you aren't just using those wings right now to try to knock me out?"

They all giggled—even Sylvia, distantly, as she stroked herself rapidly in time with Verre's whispers. Lata winked. "'Try'."

Sylvia was starting to lean against Alrek, panting, staring at the bottle and its sparkling, spiraling captive. It seemed almost like she'd lost the ability to sit up straight.

"We aren't allowed to thrum anymore," Lala said sadly. "We aren't allowed to brainwash anyone but the Wardens with those wings. We're supposed to be, um, learning our lessons."

They exchanged knowing giggles. Clearly, the Thriae didn't think much of this effort, and didn't mind it much, either.

Alrek gave a start. Sylvia was fully leaning against him now, rubbing her foot against his ankle. He glared at her and pulled his foot away, but she was actually very heavy, and her breasts pressed against his side as she stared in rapt attention at...

The bottle.

"That's right," he heard Verre purring. "That's a good girl. And you're just gonna hafta stroke faster, and faster..."

Alrek shoved Sylvia away, his head feeling strangely foggy. He rapped his knuckles against the bottle glass. "Cut it out!" he hissed at the bubble sprite.

Verre just stuck her tongue out, then grinned evilly, watching Sylvia lying belly-up on the couch and fingering herself helplessly. Verre's own fingers were between her legs as she leered at the tranced Thriae.

"... so, yeah, it's pretty fun," Lala was saying, giggling. "Like, they give us this nice house, and a super nice bedroom..."

"Ooh, yeah," Lata cooed, beaming, "the bed's really soft!"

"I think it's got goosefeather in it."

"Isn't there fleece sprite wool?"

"No, no, the wool is in the pillows."

"Wasn't it fleece sprite wool once?"

"Hm. I dunno! That sounds familiar." Lala frowned. "Ooh, wait, we're thinking of the blankets! We used to have those nice blankets. Oh my gosh, I'm such a bimbo."

"You're just dumb when you're horny," Lata teased, kissing her neck tenderly. "Dumb girl."

"You're a... a... dumb slutty-slut." Lala giggled faintly as Lata continued to kiss.

Alrek shook his head. Their babble was making him tired, and he regretted getting a bad night's sleep the other night. The air was so heavy here, and he dimly remembered that there had been a window... hadn't there? He couldn't see it now. It was awfully smokey in here, though.

He shook himself again as Lala and Lata went on bantering about something—complimenting each other's breasts in low, flirtatious tones. How round they were. How full. Heaving. Bouncy.

He realized he was staring at Sylvia's breasts as she wriggled and bounced in her seat.

"Like, they're so cute!" Lala was cooing, running her hands over Lata's shirt. "So perky when you touch them. When you kiss them."

Lata giggled. "That's 'cause they wanna be sucked on, silly."

"Ooh. I loooove suckling!"

"Oh my gosh, me too! Especially on your nipples. Like, they're so cute! So perky..."

Alrek licked his lips, staring at Sylvia. It felt like it would be so easy—so wonderfully simple—to just lie facedown in those breasts, to fasten his lips to a nipple and just...

He took in a deep breath, again wondering why he hadn't seen a chimney on the way in. His head swam and buzzed. Sylvia looked so wet, and warm... so sweet...

It would be so, so easy... to drink...

Alrek gave a start, realizing he held in his hands the same mug Sylvia had given him earlier. And he was holding it up to his lips. It smelled creamy. Sickeningly sweet. Intoxicating.

He blinked, staring down at her as she smiled eagerly up at him and bounced her breasts together. The motion almost sent his mind back into the oozing place, but he shook himself roughly and emptied the drink onto the floor.

This got Lala's and Lata's attention, and they gave little sounds of upset at this. "Aw, you made a mess!" Lala scowled. Lata, who had been inches from suckling Lala's tit through the shirt, pulled back, red-faced.

"Yeah," Alrek growled, standing up, "I think this has, uh..." He swayed slightly before righting himself. "This has gone on long enough. I'm done. We're gonna..."

He patted his belt, and felt nothing there.

Alrek spun and saw Sylvia, smiling blissfully as she held the bottle between her breasts and struggled to open it. Her tongue was half-sticking out of the corner of her mouth in her effort.