The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Prickled and Pampered

The Murena Ranger Lodge was a bit of a sorry affair. With its population of nearly five hundred—not to mention the scattered hunting cabins nearby—Murena was one of the largest settlements on the island. And it had only three regular Toxin Rangers dedicated to its defense.

Of all the Northern Isles, Farillona, with its steep cliffs and rocky ravines, was substantially less prone to ordinary fey troubles. Nymphs and dryads generally preferred the forests, and while lust sprites, sirens and similar ‘horrors’ were an occasional problem in the caves, the concerns of the island lay more in occasional monsters than fey meddling. Fey were more like nuisances. There was little demand for Toxin Rangers.

Salia sort of wished she didn’t have to work a day job where the company budget consisted of a weekly bag of bread and cheese, a bottle of non-fermented guava cider, and a handwritten note covered in hearts pinned to the door reading, ‘Hang in there!’ with a small drawing of a skittergoblin clinging to a branch.

Granted, she was pretty sure Ciarlo saved every single note in his desk drawer, so it wasn’t as though they went unappreciated.

“Morning, Ciarlo.” Salia strolled inside, pausing to make a quick scratch on a paper hanging on the wall to signal her arrival. “How’s it treating you?”

“Could be better!” Ciarlo grimaced. Her fellow Toxin Ranger was a tall, brown-skinned man with unusually bright green eyes and an unfortunate bushy mustache marring otherwise handsomely androgynous features. And right now, he was up and about—not seated at his termite-eaten desk, which was a bit unusual, Salia thought—and sifting through one of the closets.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” Salia frowned, glancing around the cluttered, musty lodge space. She then noticed the unoccupied chair at the desk covered in wildlife books and small, taxidermied animals. “Where’s Iane?”

“They had to... pop out.” Ciarlo glanced back at Siarlo with a sour expression, scratching the unfortunate mustache. “Fishing duty.

Fishing duty, Salia knew, consisted mainly of drifting around in the nearby inlet in a small canoe, making sure none of the mermaids were up to anything unsavory, and checking on the two pearl sprite couples to make sure nobody had gotten ensnared recently. It was, by far, the dullest part of being a Murena Toxin Ranger.

“Iane hates fishing duty,” Salia said, her eyes narrowing to slits. Salia’s father had always told her she had eyes meant to narrow—perhaps a comment on her particularly thick lashes, but more likely a comment on her attitude. “That lazy fucker. They got wind something was up, didn’t they?”

Ciarlo let out a loud groan as he took from the closet a longbow. “Supposedly, they heard that a couple jelly maids were dealing with pirates off the bay. Wanted to check it out, make sure nobody’s riling the fey up.”

“Sure. I bet.”

“They might have been serious.” Ciarlo spoke with all the hollow-rattling conviction of a very polite guard explaining the situation to a prisoner on death row. “Maybe there really is something going on.”

“I bet.” Salia glared. “So what’s the deal? What are we being stuck with?”

We aren’t being stuck with anything.” Ciarlo raised an eyebrow as he strapped a quiver to his back. “I have to go to the Rose Well. Widow Tamma says there’s some fairy mischief going on there. Fairies are probably just looking to steal some love potions again.”

“Fairies at the Rose Well?” Salia shook her head, disgusted. “I can’t stand those little insects.”

“Now, Salia...”

She kicked her desk, wincing as the boards cracked a little. Damn termites. “Sorry, but come on. You hate them, too. We’re supposed to find them endearing and cute while they go around tying people’s hairs in knots and spooking herds and... and all sorts of mischief! Remember the shit Primrose got up to last autumn?”

“They come from a different culture, Salia. A very, very annoying culture.” Ciarlo strapped on a pair of earmuffs. These were designed to hamper fairy whisperings. The outer pads of the earmuffs were covered in feathers to further deter any ticklish flutterers.

The feathers also made Ciarlo look kind of hilarious. Salia suppressed a giggle, covering it by brushing her long black braids back and tying them back in a quick, oafish knot. “Yeah. Okay, so you’re dealing with the fairies so I don’t, uh, antagonize them.”

“Last time we spoke to the fairies, you literally called them mosquitoes.”

Rolling her eyes, Salia stalked over and grabbed her satchel of supplies from her desk. Unlike Ciarlo, who was currently fumbling with his boots—these were to guard from the fairies stealing his feathers and tickling his soles terribly—she always kept all her supplies ready to go at short notice. “I didn’t say they were mosquitoes, I said they had the brains of mosquitoes!”

“yes.” he looked up from tying his laces. “They found that offensive.”

“Well, maybe they should grow thicker shells!”

“Mosquitoes don’t have shells. If you’d compared them to beetles, maybe...” Ciarlo threw up a hand to block Salia’s smack. “Okay, but seriously, Salia, the reason you aren’t coming with is because you have the important job today.”

Salia blinked, her annoyance at Ciarlo’s stupid jokes momentarily staved off. “Really?”

“There’s a... a situation at the Cuddlebug Pub.”

Salia hefted the satchel, snorting. “Someone slip something illegal into the drinks again?”

“Uh... not quite.” Ciarlo sounded uneasy.

Salia’s head tilted as she turned to look at him. He was tying the last lace and avoiding her gaze. “What? What is it?”

Ciarlo gave a weak smile as he headed for the door, hefting a large butterfly net over his shoulder. “They’ve got a small... goblin problem.”

“I thought we had a truce with the queen.”

“Um. Not skittergoblins, Sal.”

“Oh, great. So there’s fey in—”

“Not that kind of goblin, either.”

Salia stared after him.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, gods damn it!”

* * *

“Gods, you’re just... you’re so beautiful.” Malben’s voice was slurred as he leaned back in his chair.

The gorgeous green-skinned woman beamed at him, fluttering bright red eyes. “Am I really?” She wriggled excitedly in his lap. “Really

He let out a loud moan. Her pussy... fuck, it was incredible around his shaft. It seemed to draw cum out of him like it was sucking from a straw, and with that came so, so much pleasure. The handsome dark-haired man licked his lips, shuddering with the effort of simply forming cogent words. “Y-yes,” he rasped. “So... so hot... so soft...”

Mmmm.” The goblin maid sighed happily. “Tell me more! Tell me more, my darling!”

Malben stared down at her. The creature in his lap resembled a human woman in all respects—all respects that mattered, anyways. Sure, she was green-skinned, and not quite even four feet tall, and she had notched, pointed ears like old rusty daggers, and her wavy bouffant hairstyle was a shade of green even darker than her fulsome, plump lips and heavy eyelids, and her skin was just a shade paler than emerald...

But her breasts were perfect. Perfectly round, soft and squishy, and just big enough to squeeze against one another. She had a bubble butt that was currently plopped right down in his lap as he let her bounce atop his shaft, and her eyes...

No, forget her eyes, her cunt...

“You,” he gasped, feeling the orgasms pounding into him, feeling his head sinking into soft, warm, fuzzy bliss, “are... so... hot.”

The goblin maid giggled, wrapping her arms around him. With one hand, the nubile little number slipped another piece of curry-dipped bread into his mouth. He ate mindlessly, feeling the spices sending his whole mouth aflame, only to give way to a burning need to kiss, to fuck...

She held up before him a dark chocolate truffle, and waggled her eyebrows. “Tell me more, loverboy,” she cooed, “and this yummy little treat just might find its way into your mouth!”

His mouth watered. His cock throbbed. “You... b-big breasts...”

“You mean these breasts, sugar?” she purred, pressing her chest up against him.

“Yes!” he gasped. “An’... an’ so... so... hot...”

“Yes?” She held the chocolate in front of him, giggling. “You are so sweet. But what else about me do you love, huh? Tell me!” She bounced excitedly in his lap. “You’re so close! Tell me! Tell me tell me tell me!” Her pussy squeezed and sucked his cock in and out like a mouth, wet, tight, slick and wonderful.

“Uh... unh...” A stupefied smile slid onto Malben’s face. His words started to dissolve into babbling moans. “H-hot... b-big... boobs... f-fuck...”

His mind was dribbling away, fading all the way away. The goblin kept bouncing, milking him until his mind went white with pure bliss, but her giggling had died down.

He heard her let out a low, sad sigh as he faded into pleasured unconsciousness, sinking deep into a fog bank of lusty dreams. “Oh... and here I thought my search was finally over. You were so close, sugar.

“Gosh damn it.”

* * *

Salia marched down the gravel trail, the air smelling strongly of dust, ash, and llama manure. The path was lined by bright pink flowers—lover poppies, best-known for their oil, which served both as a natural lubricant and an intoxicant for many fey. Mortals grew it to keep the fey busy. It often had a very different effect, considering what fey usually wanted to do most when they were intoxicated.

Then again, maybe that was the idea. Salia rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t that Salia hated fey. They just pissed her off. A lot of things did. Ciarlo and Iane always told her she had a short fuse, but that implied she had a fuse to begin with.

Things just pissed her off in general. Especially people who tried to make her calm down, and that was what fey were all about—dampening your emotions and will until all you wanted to do was fuck. It was fucking condescending.

Salia tossed her head, thick black braids flying, as she heard a sound from up ahead.

A llama’s bizarre, gargled alarm shriek.

Salia broke into a run. She wasn’t anywhere near the Cuddlebug. What was—

Oh. She stopped in her tracks, recognizing the source.

On the outskirts of town, some ways off from the pub, stood an old goat stable. Travelers’ dire goats were kept in this stable when the village had nowhere else to keep them. That scream was coming from Banshee, the old llama who guarded the stable in the caretaker’s absence.

Salia ran to the door of the ramshackle structure and kicked in the door, knife in her hand, and was greeted by the screaming baas of two dire goats trapped in their stalls. “Banshee!” she shouted.

And down the aisle came running Banshee, a jet-black llama, shrieking at the top of her lungs. She was pursued by three tittering little balls of blinking light.

Salia squinted at those lights. They were remarkably pretty. They really... caught the eye...

She dove out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled, nearly crashing into a thistlebush in the process. Banshee came pronking out, bucking and gamboling, swatting her head furiously at the three giggling fairies.

Salia got to her feet, brushing dust and sand off her face with a snarl. “Fairies!” she barked. “What the fuck’s all this, then?”

“Oh!” sang one blue fairy, diving out of the way of Banshee’s snapping teeth. “Hi, Ranger!”

“Whoops!” A green fairy fluttered just out of reach of the llama’s mandibles. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

They cackled.

Salia crossed her arms, not putting away the knife just yet. “Primrose, she growled.

And the third fairy, a brilliantly pink little fey with particularly wavy hair, danced out of the way of the llama’s projectile spit as she turned to face Salia.

The spit arced, descended, and splattered right in Salia’s eyes.

“Oops.” Salia heard Primrose give a nervous giggle. “Sorry, Salia.”

Salia reached up and slowly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, letting out a snarl. “You lot” she hissed, “are creating a disturbance.”

“Oh, come on.” The fairies tittered, gathering together in the air a few feet above Salia’s head. They sparkled prettily, but Salia was careful to shade her eyes to block the bulk of the glare. “We were just having some fun, weren’t we, Banshee?”

The guard llama let out an irritable wail.

“Ha ha.” Primrose clasped her hands behind her back, drifting to the left along with her two lovers, wings fluttering rapidly. “Such a kidder.”

Salia sheathed her knife briskly, nearly slamming it into its scabbard. “I’m pretty sure Iane and I had words with you about what’d happen the next time we saw you up to mischief, Primrose.”

“Oh, come on.” Primrose let out an irritating whine. With her squeaky voice, it was almost reminiscent of a mosquito hum. “We were just playing with the goats! We haven’t even been working anything major.”

Salia knew that by “anything major”, Primrose meant “playing with humans’ minds”. The fairies were usually fairly good about that—they weren’t usually crazy about mental domination—but Primrose had a habit of skirting the boundaries. There were always troublemakers. Last year, Salia and Iane had caught her trying to hypnotize a shepherd and a goatherd into eloping together.

And then there was Ciarlo’s work today...

“You three,” Salia said, scowling, “haven’t been up to any shit with the Rose Well, have you?”

“Who? Us?” Primrose gave a mock-gasp of shock. “We know better than to play cupids, Salia! I promise, we have nothing to do with those troublemakers.”

“Uh-huh.” Salia’s eyes narrowed. “I bet.”

“I speak from the heart, Salia!” Primrose drifted to the right. Salia’s eyelids fluttered slightly with the effort of keeping her eyes on the fairies, and she steeled herself against the influence of those lights. “No mind games! I promise! You trust us, don’t you?”

Salia chewed her upper lip, rubbing her eyes slightly. The lights were making her eyelids feel awfully heavy.

The fairies drifted a little closer, and Primrose’s voice took on a honeyed quality. “You can trust me,” she cooed sweetly, her light spiraling down, down, down—

“Nah.” Fighting the grogginess, Salia unstrapped a gooey mass from her belt and tossed it upwards.

The fairies shrieked with surprise, but they were too slow to dodge as the translucent sac of glue burst over them. They flapped desperately as the goo covered their tiny bodies, carrying them sharply to the ground in one large, sticky mass.

It splatted in the dust below.

“You bitch!” Primrose spat, one wing fluttering desperately to escape her glue prison.

Salia scowled down at them. “You can stay here,” she said, “while I deal with a goblin hussy out looking for a husband. But when I get back, we can have another long talk, okay?”

Ugh. Party pooper.” The fairy crossed her arms and pouted.

Salia rolled her eyes and stalked off, returning to the path. She didn’t have time for this shit. She knew Banshee would be able to settle things now that the fey were taken care of.

She had a goblin ‘hussy’ to handle.

* * *

Primrose watched the ranger depart with compound eyes narrowed to slits.

Damn her.

Damn that sexy, toned, goddess of a ranger. One day she’d see how right Primrose was for her. How good a fairy could make a human woman feel.

But in the meantime, the fairy’s mind boiled with schemes. How to get back at the ranger for this? How to teach that uppity human some humility? Some, gods willing, fucking romance?

Of course! Her eyes lit up. She looked back at her two girltoys, who were currently experimenting with the gooey mass, testing to see if they could enjoy each other while caught within. Evidently, they could. “Girls,” she said, grinning broadly, “I think I’ve got another great id—”

SPLAT.

Primrose and her lovers let out shrill squeals as Banshee the guard llama spat up a mass of disgusting spit right on them. The llama walked back into the stable with a bitter bray.

Primrose gagged, wiping her eyes with a miserable moan. “Oh, you realize, my sweet Ranger,” she muttered darkly, “this means war.”

* * *

The tavern common room was chaos. Salia’s eyes narrowed as she entered the building and saw a pair of young men, each lying belly-up on big, comfy-looking armchairs. Their eyes were closed, but they still twitched every now and then, their hard cocks dribbling out steady flows as pleasurable dreams bore them into brainless bliss. Their faces and necks were covered in blue lipstick kisses.

Definitely a goblin maid. Definitely a lusty goblin maid, if she was going through young men this fast. She’d have a husband soon, at this rate.

Not on Salia’s watch. The ranger rested her hand by the pouches at her belt and advanced deeper into the tavern. These two young men were known troublemakers—dumb rakes who didn’t know a pussy from a pussy willow. This goblin maid had likely taken on meatier fare by this point. The tables in herewere strewn with leftovers—smeared remnants of curry, pastries and spilled wine. She had been busy.

Salia held her breath as she entered the kitchen. It was said that, when seeking to avoid a goblin maid’s attentions, the most dangerous place of all to be was her kitchen. But a job was a job.

Oh, gods.

It was a disaster area in here.

The counters were piled high with pies—cherry pies, peach pies, and worst of all, pies made with that strange rosy-red jam only goblin maids knew how to bake. Piled high. They were stacked so the pies on the bottom were sinking into one another. Salia had seen a few goblin maid ‘rampages’ in her day, but never this much production from a single young goblin maid out for a husband.

The worst part was how many empty and half-empty tins there were. It was pure decadence.

The oven was still baking, and Salia could smell spicy, creamy chocolate fudge inside. Sweetbreads and fruitcakes covered the table, matched in quantity only by the bowls of that strange goblin spiced curry they were so good at mixing. There were baskets full of fried savory turnovers, bowls of ruby-red soups, and curry mixtures with rice and all sorts of vegetables.

No meat, of course. The sharp teeth of a goblin maid weren’t for ripping flesh—they were for tearing strips of cinnamon bark, and other such spices.

Salia wrinkled her nose. The Lovebug Pub’s cook, a slender woman in her early thirties with wild black hair, lay with her back up against the corner, twitching and moaning. Her eyes were closed but fluttering, and there was a slick puddle on the tiles between her legs. Her face was covered in lipstick kisses, and a half-finished bowl of candies lay beside her, her hand still resting halfway within.

So this goblin maid wasn’t just after men. That... could be...

“Oh, hello there, sugar!” Salia whirled around. Standing in the far doorway, dressed in tight-fitting cotton shorts, a black crop top, and a pink apron that read, Kiss the Cook, was a rather short young woman with large, pointy ears. She had a voluptuous figure, with large, perky breasts and highly prominent hips set jauntily to the side.

The new arrival’s skin was a shade off emerald green, and her gleaming red eyes were heavy-lidded, calm, almost suggesting drowsiness. Her plush lips were painted a gorgeous cerulean blue, her eyelids a dark forest green. The goblin maid was dressed to kill—dressed to wed. And she knew it. Those eyelids batted alluringly as she took a tiny mock-sip of the violet-red wine in her glass. “You’ll have to pardon the mess. I’ve just been so busy lately. You couldn’t imagine.”

“Oh, I think I could.” Salia’s eyes narrowed to slits as she performed a quick examination of the kitchen’s tactical situation. Over the goblin maid’s shoulder, she could make out some open windows—potential escape routes for this woman. She could also see the unconscious tavern owner lying back in the next room, twitching and cumming, thoroughly under the influence of the goblin lust. “You got a name, goblin?”

Ooh!” The goblin maid put a hand to her plump, luscious lips. “So to the point. That’s such a sweet trait to find in a bride. My name, sugar, is Masva! What’s yours?”

“Salia.” Keep her talking. Tease out how long she’s been at work here. “So you’re looking for a bride? Looks like you’ve mostly been looking to men.”

“Oh...” Masva waved a hand, as if to say, ‘only a little bit’. “There are three honeyed little sugar cubes upstairs who couldn’t get enough, Salia, sweetest. I don’t discriminate.” She smiled, showing those ever-so-slightly sharp white teeth.

“Well, I’m afraid your little lovefest is over, Masva.” Salia braced one hand on the table. “I’m taking you in.”

“Oh, are y—“

“And that’s not an innuendo!”

Masva was quiet a moment, those bright red eyes surveying Sala coolly. She looked Salia over, and Salia tensed. Salia was taller than the goblin, and armed, but her slenderness could make her vulnerable if Masva tried to tackle her. Masva was clearly gauging her chances.

Apparently, she didn’t like them. She pouted. “Well, fine, be that way. Only...” She sauntered into the room, hips swinging rhythmically as she plucked up from the counter a forkful of noodles in a reddish sauce. She tilted her head adorably to the side, eyes as big as saucers. “Wouldn’t you at least like a teensy-weensy bite first?”

Salia snorted. “Nice try, goblin maid.”

“No, really! Doesn’t it smell good?” The goblin maid puckered up her lips and blew.

Salia blinked, barely remembering to hold her breath as the savory scent washed over her. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the distant smell. It did smell tasty.

“Just a little taste?” Masva cooed, fingers tapping delicately around the edge of the table as she walked slowly around towards Salia. “Just the teensiest of—“

The moment the goblin maid rounded the corner, Salia snatched her second bubble sac from her belt and hurled it forward.

The entangling glue mixture burst on the goblin maid’s legs with a loud, wet popping sound. Masva let out a startled shriek as it exploded on her ankles. Her light touch on the table became a death grip on the edge as she struggled to keep from slipping and falling over. The fork went flying and landed in the washbasin with a clatter.

“Thanks for the offer,” Salia said sharply, kicking the table out of the goblin’s reach (the pyramid of turnovers stirred ominously, but did not topple). “But my lunch break’s not ’til noon.”

* * *

After the goblin was caught, Salia went to grab a chair, so she at least had somewhere to sit while they waited for Salia’s partner to arrive. The goblin was brooding and sour, and this seemed to suit Salia well, who set about cleaning up the kitchen and cataloging the goblin-baked foodstuffs.

Through the open window, over the body of a sleeping, wet-dreaming bartender who’d sampled one too many goblin pies, Primrose watched with gleaming pink eyes.

“Primrose!” sang a gleeful voice. Primrose turned to see several fairies, including her two lovers, flying down towards them. They held between them a large metal thimble. It was practically overflowing with a brilliant hot pink liquid.

Primrose gave a squeal of excitement, flying up to help her helpers bring it down to the windowsill. “You got some! Oh, I knew you could do it.”

As was fairy custom, they took a minute to wetly ‘congratulate’ one another. Then, giggling, they turned to the thimble. The fluid inside was brightly glowing, casting them all in pink light as they gathered around.

“Are you all ready for this?” Primrose said, clapping her hands together in glee.

In answer, the other fairies drew out tiny little bows—small even for their size, each covered in almost tacky pink decoration. They also each drew out a few arrows, each bearing, instead of a normal arrowhead, a sharp pink heart. They exchanged gleeful looks and wicked grins.

“Then let’s help little Salia,” Primrose purred, dipping her own arrow into the thimble and feeling it start to heat up in her hand, “loosen up a little bit.”

* * *

“A lot of sweetbreads, huh?” Salia pursed her lips, making a quick note in the log. “Who even eats fruitcakes anymore?”

Masva, behind her, sounded sulky. “This girl here sure was fond of ’em. But I s’pose you wouldn’t know something sweet if it came up and bit you.”

“Hm.” Salia rolled her eyes turning to the pies and beginning to count.

“But...” Masva giggled. “There’s a way we could find that out, y’know.” She bared her teeth.

Salia was silent. She was determined not to acknowledge Masva’s stupid jokes. Rangers didn’t fraternize with prisoners.

She turned away. For a moment, the ranger thought she felt a tiny breeze by her neck where she’d been standing a second ago, and thought she heard a tiny curse form the dining room with the unconscious bartender. She turned, but saw nobody.

The ranger walked over to the table and started counting the turnovers, careful not too breathe in too recklessly—though with Masva safely out of reach for a ‘goblin kiss’ to blow the fragrance to her, it wasn’t nearly as urgent a concern. “Baking a lot, huh? You had big plans for this town?”

“Oh... Salia, when you’ve got assets like mine, let’s just say everything we’ve got is big.”

Salia gave Masva a withering glare, leaning down to jot another note in the journal. Again, she felt a tiny whistling breeze by her hand, but she couldn’t see anything. Probably the breeze from that open window.

Masva sat with her hands clasped in the wooden chair, bearing her childish pout as she scowled down at the floor tiles. “Not like you’d know,” she said, sniffing. “The way you keep from lookin’ at me, you’d think I was a flea’s size or something.”

“Hm.” Salia turned away from Masva and walked over to the oven.

She heard the goblin let out a plaintive sigh. “C’mon! Am I that dull to look at? Is that why I ain’t been able to find love here?”

Salia was opening her mouth to sarcastically reply when she felt a sudden...

prickle. Right at the back of her shoulder. She flinched, reaching for the point of the... mosquito bite? But there was nothing there.

She paused, distracted. What had she been about to... oh, right. Masva’s whining. Poor girl. Salia gave a small smile, despite herself. “It’s kinda hard not to look at you, goblin maid, the way you dress. I just don’t much give a damn.” She gave an insincerely apologetic shrug.

“Oh!” Masva sounded put out, the plaintive notes replaced with indignation. “The way I dress? Well, gosh, if that doesn’t sound judgmental, I just don’t know what does!”

Salia flinched, feeling another tiny prickle at the back of her neck. She chalked it up to pins-and-needles, and momentarily stretched. “Don’t waste my time acting hurt, goblin. I’m just doing my job.”

“You know my name,” the goblin muttered. Salia glanced back. The goblin maid seemed sincerely hurt as she scowled down at the floor tiles. Her pretty ruby-red eyes were downcast.

She’d really had a rough day, Salia supposed. She was probably entitled to a bit of whininess.

Salia grimaced, giving a low sigh. “Fine. Masva. Whatever.” She picked up the basket of turnovers an walked it over to the counter, careful to avoid going too close to the goblin—just in case. “But don’t expect me to give a damn about your feelings. You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble for all this.”

“It’s not like I managed to find anyone.” Masva shook her head miserably. “It was a whole wasted morning! Everyone in this pub’s a real sour apple when it comes to romance.”

Salia snorted. “That’s ’cause romance is a waste of time. And it isn’t exactly ‘romance’ filling someone with spices ’til they can’t tell love from lust.” She scratched her arm, feeling a couple more prickles there. They were getting kind of annoying, but she didn’t really want to go running around chasing invisible mosquitoes right in front of the prisoner.

“That’s the problem,” Masva said softly. The goblin maid scooted as best she could to keep the ranger in sight, her breasts jiggling slightly with the motion. “I just... oh, I don’t know. Everyone’s real ‘big’ on my boobs an’ butt...”

Salia gave a small chuckle.

“... one of the girls couldn’t stop talkin’ about my ‘cocksucking lips’—” Masva made sarcastic finger quotes. “But they couldn’t name nothing they liked about me. Apparently, I’m just an ass, tits and lips to them. Dunno why the gods bothered giving me a heart.”

Salia laughed at the goblin’s flippant, rueful tone. “Well, that’s the way of things.” She leaned against the counter, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “People marry quick as a snap, fine, great, but love? Love’s about as real as an ace dopterine, Masva.”

“Oh, I don’t believe in that!” Masva clasped her hands together—not realizing, Salia noted, that they now had some glue on them. “Love is a beautiful, wonderful thing! I just ain’t found the right man yet.” She glanced up at Salia, her red eyes smoldering beneath thick, black lashes, and blew a little strand of hair from her face. Despite Masva’s bound, helpless state, her elaborate bouffant hairdo remained in near-perfect condition. “Or right woman.”

“Ha.” Salia sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, Masva. I don’t affiliate with criminals, even if I was a romantic soul—and like I said, that’s all goatshit as far as I can see. I’m not into ‘love’. And I’m definitely not into goblin maids.”

“... Oh.”

Masva’s pointy ears drooped slightly.

Prickle. Salia winced, rubbing her back. Masva seemed... upset at that. Maybe Salia had been a bit too harsh?

“I mean... I just find them hard to deal with.” She coughed. “Like I said, I don’t think love’s worth my time. People are garbage and piss me off. You all are so full of love, it’s like... opposites, you know?”

“I suppose.” Masva sniffed.

Salia bit her lip. “Aw, geez, are you seriously crying over that?”

“No.” The curvy goblin reached up to wipe her eyes—or tried to. Her hands were now stuck fast together. Realizing this, the goblin let out a frustrated half-whine.

Salia swallowed. She didn’t like seeing Masva cry. That made her feel like a bully. Salia could be a bit temperamental, but she was not a bully. But there—there were goddamn tears running down Masva’s cute, dimpled cheeks.

The ranger let out a small groan. “Ugh. I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean... I didn’t mean anything mean by it. If it’s of any consolation... I mean, you’re pretty hot. I dunno about love, but..” She let out a short laugh. “I mean, you do it for me in the ‘lust’ column.”

Masva looked up at Salia, eyes shimmering. “R-really?” she asked, sniffling.

Salia’s eyes narrowed. “Well, don’t let it go to your head or nothing. I’m still not interested. I don’t wanna give—” Prickle, this time in the back of her leg. She paused, momentarily distracted, and then trailed off entirely as she felt another prickle right in her hip.

She was having trouble collecting herself. Masva seemed to be looking at Salia in a way that made Salia... uncomfortable. The goblin gave a shy smile. “Well, it’s sweet of you to say, sugar. And you ain’t exactly hard on the eyes, either.” Her eyes flitted down, and Salia felt her face heating up as she realized the goblin was openly ogling Salia’s tall, fit build. Salia wasn’t nearly as well-endowed as the goblin—because, damn, Masva’s tits were unbelievable—but people always said she had pretty eyes, and she stayed in very good shape.

Salia bit her lip. “W-well... stop looking at me like that. I’m still turning you in.”

Sure,” agreed Masva, beaming up at her. Salia started sweating. Masva really did have very pretty, red eyes.

Prickle. And that cute little blush in her cheeks... did she actually like Salia? Or was she just manipulating her to get free?

Dumbass, she thought, of course she likes you, she probably wants to make you marry her! She glared at Masva, recovering her wits. “And when my partner gets here, we’re gonna turn you into the authorities. See how you like being pushed around and told what to do.”

“Oh, sugar, I don’t tell my lovers what to do!” Masva giggled. “I just ask them!”

“Right. And they’re only too happy to oblige.”

“Yes!” Masva smirked. “It’s amazing what people will do... for love.” She licked her luscious, blue lips. Salia remembered those men in the common room, their faces covered in lipstick stains, and her cheeks reddened slightly.

So did Masva’s. “Um... Salia?”

“Yeah, Masva?” Salia swallowed.

“My hands... they’re all stuck.” Masva bit her lip adorab—childishly. “Could I please... I mean, I’m not gonna run or nothin’, I promise, but...” She looked up at Salia, eyes still red-rimmed from crying. “Please?”

Prickle.

“Oh! Uh, well, I...” Salia gave a nervous giggle. “I’m actually supposed... I mean, I should... if you just... sure?”

Salia’s heart plummeted as she babbled out the agreement. But Masva’s eyes lit up in such gratitude when she said it, and, well... it wasn’t as if Masva was a threat as long as Salia kept an eye on her.

It really was kind of cruel to make her sit with her hands clasped. Salia could take Masva in a fight. It wasn’t protocol to release prisoners, though, even if they didn’t have any chance of escape. Yeah, Masva was cute, and sweet, and funny, but...

Salia blinked, realizing she had already leaned over to pour out the solvent from its unstopped bottle. She fumbled slightly before letting Masva take the bottle from her. No! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Salia was tongue-tied, this close to Masva. Masva’s breaths were surprisingly nice to listen to. High-pitched, but slow. Soothing. Her breath smelled faintly of cinnamon, probably from chewing bark.

“Thank you, Salia,” Masva whispered, right in Salia’s ear.

Salia recoiled, her face burning. She thought she heard tiny giggling, but Masva didn’t laugh. She just smiled happily at Salia, and batted those long eyelashes. “I knew there was a soft heart under all that armor,” she said slyly, kicking her feet happily. She held up the now half-empty bottle for Salia to retrieve.

Salia, heart beating fast, reached out to take the bottle. As she did, her fingers grazed Masva’s hand. Her soft, slender hand.

And a prickle hit her wrist.

The bottle fell to the floor with a crack. It did not shatter, luckily, but Salia backed away regardless. Oh god. Oh gods, I’m so clumsy. I look like an idiot. I mean... not that I care? But... oh, what’s gotten into me?

She needed to stop bantering with the prisoner. Masva was too funny, too sweet, too...

Oh, gods damn it, she never got crushes on enemies! But... was Masva really an enemy? She was just a little lovesick. And really, who wasn’t?

I’m not, Salia told herself desperately. I’m not in love with her! I don’t care how curvy she is, how cute her giggles are, how nice her red eyes look when they’re looking at me, how... how... Oh, gods, you’re staring at her, you idiot. Look away!

She quickly averted her gaze, rubbing her cheeks to hide the blush. As she expected—blazing hot. Goddammit! What was wrong with her?

“I really appreciate it,” Masva went on. “I promise I won’t try anything. I just... oh, it’s just been such a long day.” She let out a sad little whimper.

“Yeah.”

“Would you...” Masva bit her lip. Salia realized she sounded about as uncertain as Salia felt. Was that just an act? “Would you please sit with me? I could really use someone to just hang out with, and you... I know you’re an enemy, an’ all, but you’re just so sweet, I figure I could do worse.” She gave a nervous laugh.

“Sure.” The word slipped out of Salia’s mouth before she even thought about it, and she immediately pulled up a chair. She now sat directly between the much shorter goblin and the table full of baked goods.

They sat there in silence a moment.

“I just...” Masva rubbed her eyes. “I just...”

“Here.” Salia offered her handkerchief, hand trembling slightly.

Masva looked up, blinking widely, and accepted the kerchief. Drying her eyes, she went on, “I was just so excited for today. I cooked so much. I was sure I’d find a husband. And now... now it’s all goin’ to waste.” She gave a miserable laugh. “You must think I’m a total ninny.”

“No, I...” Salia’s tongue fumbled for a moment as she felt a prickle in the back of her neck. “I m-mean, this stuff all looks really tasty. I bet it took ages to make. It’s not a waste.”

“Yes, it is,” Masva said sulkily, blowing her nose. “Nobody’s gonna eat it, are they?”

“Well...” Salia swallowed. On impulse, she reached over amd grabbed a bit of a half-eaten turnover. She spoke without thinking, her heart pounding. “I’m not gonna go marrying you or anything, but do you mind if I try a little? I didn’t get much of a breakfast this morning.” That was a lie. Salia just didn’t want to seem too transparent in her efforts to cheer Masva up. “Then it’s not so much of a waste, right?”

This went against everything in the Toxin Ranger handbook, but goddammit, the goblin maid was crying. There was nothing in the handbook about pretty girls crying!

Besides, Ciarlo would be here soon, and both she and Ciarlo could cover any toxins this stuff had in it. A little taste wasn’t such a big deal.

And Masva’s shining smile made it feel all worth it. Salia’s heart fluttered as the goblin maid leaned forward and hugged her, planting a big, soft kiss on Salia’s cheek. Salia was too shocked to do anything but limply accept the hug. “Oh, sugar, you don’t have to eat that!” she cooed, rising to her feet. “Let me at least getchya somethin’ tastier!”

Salia let Masva take the turnover—which was a bit cold—out of her hand and replace it with a cornbread cupcake slathered in pink frosting.

She was already having second thoughts, truth be told, but... Masva looked so happy and expectant. Salia couldn’t let her down now. The idea of disappointing Masva filled Salia with revulsion and shame. But... damn it, this was all so, so wrong! Why couldn’t she say no? Why couldn’t she just tell this criminal to stuff it?

“I...” Salia bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t eat anything so fresh. What if I... I mean...”

She felt a prickle in her neck.

Masva batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, taking Salia by the hand and actually guiding the cupcake up towards Salia’s mouth. She blew over the cupcake, sending the fragrant aroma of freshly-baked deliciousness wafting into Salia’s face.

Saklia’s mouth watered. She looked over at Masva, who was still holding her hand, and finally opened her mouth. The cupcake entered, and she bit off a large mouthful.

Sweet cinnamon flavor exploded on her tongue. Salia instantly found herself taking another bite of the cupcake—which, it turned out, had a creamy filling as well. “Mm!” She smiled widely at Masva.

“You like it?” Masva said, her voice soft, hopeful.

“This is really good!” Salia said through a mouthful of cupcake, then immediately blushed at her manners. Damn it, she wasn’t just hanging out with Iane and Ciarlo. She had to be polite! Mannerly!

Masva giggled and preened, tossing her elegant curls back. She sat back down in her chair, now with a few more goodies in her lap, and scooted over to sit right beside and slightly in front of Salia. “You’re so sweet,” she said, blushing. “But it’s just what any goblin maid could bake, sugar!”

“Mm...” Salia finished the cupcake off, swallowing with a satisfied sigh. “No way. And no way is any other goblin maid as pretty as you.”

Masva went bright red. She stammered for a moment, and Salia grinned, pressing her advantage. “And no way—” Prickle “is any other goblin maid as kind as you,” Prickle “or has as pretty a laugh as you,” Prickleor has as big a heart as you, Masva.”

“I... um...” Masva seemed overwhelmed. But she wasn’t crying anymore. And Salia realized she was still holding Salia’s hand.

Salia was feeling... happy. Her anger and jaded manner was melting away entirely, replaced by a feeling of deep delight with Masva’s cute bashfulness. Everything felt fuzzy and sweet. Even the dreaming chef nearby seemed cute and delightful. Salia was still cross with Masva for drugging the lady, of course, but at least she was clearly happy. Salia found she just... couldn’t feel negative about things right now.

And she just felt so sleepy. So fuzzy and comfy. So... docile. It felt so nice to just lie back, eat, and make Masva smile. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else right now.

Nor could she quite focus on anything outside of Masva herself. Salia’s head swam, and her tongue fumbled again. “I...”

Okay. These were symptoms. Sleepiness, a tripping tongue, that pleasant tingling between her legs... Salia knew she probably needed to stop here. But Masva was already placing a small bowl of curry in Salia’s lap.

It wasn’t like this changed anything, Salia thought, dazed, as she allowed Masva to dip some sweetbread into the sauce. Masva handed the chunk of bread to Salia, who ate it as daintily as she could. She was still going to take Masva in.

That thought made her sad, but rules were rules, right? She wasn’t exactly about to date a goblin maid criminal.

That would be pretty silly.

She giggled, head spinning as the sweet-and-savory flavors combined to fill her mouth with fireworks. Oh, that... Her head lolled back against the back of the chair, a dizzy smile spreading across her angular features. “Yum,” she mumbled, giggling.

“Yum?” Masva beamed at her. “Try some more!”

“S-still gonna...” Salia dipped more bread in the sauce, and ate it with as much relish as she could muster without embarrassing herself in front of Masva. “Still gonna take you in, Masva. Not... mm... don’t date goblins.”

“That’s okay.” Masva giggled, her laugh as tinkling as little windchimes. She leaned against Salia, forehead resting against Salia’s head as she planted another big, wet kiss on Salia’s cheek. Distantly, Salia realized that Ciarlo would find her with two big lipstick stains on her face. A bit... hard to explain. But it just felt so nice to let Masva kiss her. “Tell me more about what you like about me, silly sugarcube.”

“I...” Salia stared blissfully into Maaca’s shining red eyes. “I l-like how your eyes... they’re like double rubies. Like twin suns. But not, uh, not creepy. Like undead.” She smiled dazedly. “More like... like fire. So full of life and... passion. Love.”

Love. Her dizzy brain marveled at how sweet that word sounded. Love.

“You’re not eating, dear,” Masva purred.

“Oh.” Salia stared down at her curry, biting her lip. She felt so tired. So sleepy and peaceful. Even just moving to pick up bread seemed like a horrible effort.

“Do you need help?” Masva whispered, seeming to recognize Salia’s dilemma.

“Mm... help...” Salia gave a dreamy smile as the short, curvy goblin practically poured into her lap. Masva’s big breasts pressed warmly against Salia’s own.. Masva put one hand behind Salia’s head, steadying Salia—Masva was so sweet and thoughtful like that—so Salia could keep staring into Masva’s beautiful red eyes while she spoke.

Salia barely noticed the prickles anymore.

With the other hand, the goblin maid took another piece of curry-covered bread and slipped it into Salia’s open mouth. Oh, it tasted so good. And it felt so sexy, so hot and naughty, to let the goblin maid feed her. Just like a Toxin Ranger wasn’t supposed to do. Salia chewed without even considering it.

After a moment of blissful thoughtlessness, Salia found herself sucking slightly on Masva’s fingers, licking off the rest of the curry. She felt herself go beet red, but Masva only giggled.

Salia found herself giggling back. Masva was so... so sweet. Sweet-smelling. She smelled of everything wonderful, and Salia breathed in deeply. Salia found herself absently running her hands over the goblin maid’s nubile body, caressing those big, soft, pillowy breasts as she spoke.

“You’re so... soft,” she mumbled. “An’ you treat people so soft. Sweet. Taking care of me...”

“Well, you need taking care of, don’t you?” Masva popped another piece of spicy bread into Salia’s mouth, then reached back, undoing something behind Salia. Salia felt her armor slipping off, and she was relieved—it had been getting a little stuffy. Masva wrapped her arms around the ranger, planting another soft kiss on Salia’s cheek. “So sleepy,” she purred. “I don’t even know how you made it here when you were so sleepy.”

“Sleepy...” Salia nodded, smiling.

“So pliant and loving...”

“Loving...” Salia felt her heart fluttering. Loving. Loving. Love. Love love love.

Salia felt fingers slipping beneath her pants, undoing her belt, sliding between her legs, and she whimpered. Something about this felt... not wrong. Not wrong at all. So, so right. But still... something was wrong. Something was scaring Salia. What was it?

“Aw. Poor little dear.” Masva leaned in close, planting tiny kisses right over Salia’s eyes that made Salia’s heart flutter. More lipstick stains. More marks of Masva’s love. Salia felt fingers probing between her thighs, and she started to whimper and pant, trying to encourage Masva deeper in. “Is something wrong, my captor?”

There.

That was it.

“I’m your captor!” Salia whimpered, leaning in, staring down into Masva’s big, beautiful eyes. “I... I don’t wanna be!”

There was a pause. Salia was breathing heavily.

“R-reallly?” Masva bit her lip. Salia could feel the little goblin’s heart pounding as she looked up into Salia’s glassy gaze.

“No!” Salia said, her voice breathy and weak as the fingers started to gently stroke her clit. Those fingers were lulling her back into a vulnerable, accepting haze, but she needed to speak, needed to warn Masva. “I... I don’t wanna capture you! You have to capture me first!”

Capture you?” Masva seemed almost caught off-guard. She hesitated, then, giving a sly smile, leaned in and kissed Salia right in the lips.

Salia gasped. The thoughts in her brain melted rapidly, like a bowl of ice cream placed in the oven. Every ounce of tension and fear seemed to just ooze out of her, coaxed out by Masva’s soft, slick fingers, driven out by Masva’s plump, luscious lips and probing tongue. She melted into the goblin’s embrace, her gasp turning into a long, hazy sigh.

Masva held her tight, reaching for the table again. “Silly Salia,” the goblin cooed, “that food’s too spicy, isn’t it?’

Salia knew what Masva was doing. And the thought made her wet.

“Yes,” Salia whined. “Yes, please, yes.”

Masva held before her a glass full of violet-red wine. Her eyes gleamed. “Why not drink a little?” the goblin cooed, stroking Salia’s hair. “Drink, Salia. Drink, my sweet, silly sugarcube.”

And Salia drank. She filled herself with goblin mulled wine, drank deep, and felt her mind sinking deep with it. It was like she was silencing every voice of disquiet inside her, drowning it. It was so sweet, so hot and tingly, so... so heavy...

At last, Masva pulled away the glass and flashed Salia a brilliant smile. Salia blinked. Her mind felt so hazy. So... drifting.

And she realized she was now tied to the chair.

With her own clothes.

And, she realized, her cheeks reddening, with Masva’s clothes.

The goblin smiled nervously, biting her lip. “Um... how’s this?”

Masva was still stroking her pussy. Salia let out a low, happy sigh.

Luckily, Masva had left her a hand free.

Eagerly, Salia slipped her hand beneath the goblin maid in her lap and laid fingers on Masva’s wet, tight pussy. Masva let out a delighted squeak.

Immersed in happy pink fog, Salia and Masva began to stroke one another in earnest.

“I love you,” Salia whimpered, panting and moaning as the fingers stroked her clit, thrust in and out of her wet, needy pussy. “L-love you—love you so much—oh, so much—“

“I love you,” Masva cried, rocking back and forth in Salia’s lap. She grabbed Salia and kissed Salia hungrily, drowning Salia in wet kisses, in lipstick stains that joyously marked Salia as hers. “My—mm—oh, my sweet—mmwasweeeeeet bride!” She broke off, staring at Salia with wide, desperate eyes as Salia slowly built, as Masva’s breathing started to get shallower and shallower.

She licked her lips.

“Be my sexy, sweet little wife,” the goblin maid purred, reaching with her free hand and squeezing Salia’s breast. Her fingers stroked along Salia’s clit until Salia was practically screaming. “Doesn’t that sound nice? I’ll—nnh—feed you, t-take care of you, love you...” She kissed Salia on the cheek, giggling. “And fuck you whenever you want!”

Salia’s mind was floating in fog. Drifting, floating, further, deeper, deeper... She smiled drowsily, speeding up her fingers, moaning and crying out. She was close... close...

“I’ll love you so much!” Masva breathed, leaning over to nibble Salia’s earlobe. “Fuck you silly, all the time. You can just—just lie in bed, happy and silly, and... and tell me how much you l-love me. Forever! Doesn’t that sound n-nice, sugar?”

She kissed Salia messily on the neck as her slick finger tickled Salia’s cunt.

Salia was melting. Lost in lust, lost in love, love, love. “Uh-huh!” she cried, clutching Masva tightly. “Yes! Please! Make me your bride!”

“Are you sure?” Masva asked, her voice turning sugary-sweet, in that tone that Salia knew she could never, ever refuse. “You’re ready to accept a goblin maid’s proposal, having eaten her food, drunk of her wine, and tasted her pleasure?” At the last word, she sped up her stroking ever-so-slightly.

“Yes yes yes oh yes please—“

“Even if you are always, always horny?” Masva purred, speeding up her fingers until Salia was almost wordless, breathless with need. “Always needy, always desperate, always ready to call me to bed so I can fuck my wife’s silly brains out? And I’ll always pleasure you.” She dropped down, messily kissing and sucking and licking at Salia’s breast. “Whenever—mm!—you want. I’ll feel your pleasure. Mm. You’ll feel my pleasure. Whenever you want my attention, just—” Slurp “—start teasing yourself, and—mmm—I’ll have to come to you.” She giggled, looking up at Salia from her breast and batting her eyelashes. “I’ll be like your love slave.”

Salia was a vulnerable, pliant, squirming mess. “Yes oh yes yes yes—

“And you,” Masva cooed, booping Salia on the nose, “can be my sweet, silly, slutty wife who loves to make me happy and always—” She kissed Salia on the cheek. “—lets me take care of her! Doesn’t that sound so nice?”

Salia looked into Masva’s eyes, and gave a tiny, needy nod.

And she came.

Her pleasure surged through her, melted through her, poured through her like a burst dam. Salia had never had an orgasm like this—never felt such a buildup, never felt such a feeling of finality. But the climax did not end.

Oh, no.

Because then Masva started cumming. And Salia started climaxing all over again, her mind overwhelmed with ecstasy, screaming her delight into Masva’s frantic, sloppy kisses. And that just got Masva cumming again...

Salia and Masva squealed in mutual bliss for what felt like ten whole minutes, cumming again and again in a vicious, glorious, delicious cycle of pleasure. Salia was dazed and smiling stupidly, covered in lipstick stains, silly and hazy and horny as fuck. A goblin maid’s bride. Wonderful Masva’s wife. It sounded like heaven.

From the oven, Salia heard a ding.

“Oh!” Masva hopped out, giving Salia one last kiss, and sauntered to the oven with a giggle. “I almost forgot! One last little treat for my sweet little fiance.” She stopped to open the oven and remove what was inside. Salia stared vacantly at her big, exposed ass, admiring its prodigious curves.

Masva turned, holding a little glass bowl full of freshly-baked, freshly-cut chocolate fudge, and giggled as she saw Salia’s expression. She skipped back over and sat back down in Salia’s lap once again, and once again Salia was immersed in her warm lover’s arms as Masva drew her so, so close. “Tell me you love me,” the goblin maid cooed.

“I love you,” Salia purred, reaching forward.

“Tell me I’m as sweet as cherry crisp,” Masva sang, holding the fudge inches from Salia’s salivating mouth.

“Oh, as sweet as honey,” Salia whimpered, “and with a heart just as golden.” Giggling, she began stroking Masva’s clit. “And twice as sticky!

“Oh!” the goblin maid squeaked, and seemed to forget whatever she’d been about to ask, slipping the chocolate fudge right between Salia’s lips. “Th-then... oh... we’ll wait for your partner, my sweet bride.” Her voice was husky as Salia eagerly suckled her fingers. “He can take us b-both away if he myst, as long as we’re together!”

The lovely goblin maid giggled, pulling away from the fingers and dropping between Salia’s legs. “Because I can’t bear to leave you. And in the meantime...” She licked her lips. “Maybe it’s ’bout time I sample my wife’s tasty treats.”

Sweet, creamy fudge practically melting on her tongue, Salia felt her mind collapsing into gooey, tingly bliss as she returned Masva’s loving smile.

And then the licking began. And with it, their honeymoon. Or was it their wedding? Oh, it didn’t matter.

All she knew, and all she needed, was love.

And her eyes were as wide as saucers as they met the goblin maid’s adoring gaze, and they both began an orgasm without end.

* * *

“Yes!” Ciarlo moaned, lying back in the soft mud, “I love you! Love you so much!”

“Do you really?” the fairies cooed. Five fluttered above him, holding his head up above the bubbling Rose Well. The other seventeen fluttered before his eyes, filling his vision with brilliant, colorful flashing lights. Three more cooed and whispered in his ears, filling his ears with sweet nothings designed to turn him into a molten mass of need and love. His earmuffs lay abandoned nearby, their feathers having been employed upon his sensitive soles until he’d laughed himself to tears and the last feather had snapped.

“Yes!” he cried, hips bucking as three more fairies stroked his cock with their slender, nude bodies, rapidly building him towards a third humiliating orgasm. “L-love you so much—all of you—s-so perfect, sweet, sexy—”

“And we’re not bugs?” pried one.

“Or pests?” asked another, barely containing her giggle.s

“Never,” he whispered, eyes wide at the blasphemy as he gazed into his wonderful mistresses’ compound eyes. “Perfect. All of you. Perfect, wonderful.” How could anyone ever suggest anything else?

“And whose slave are you?” purred a pink fairy with cherry-red hair. “Who are you a dumb, horny little bimbo for?’

His cock throbbed at her sly, slick, mocking tone.

“All of you!” he cried. “I’m your bimbo, your slave, forever! Always!”

They giggled with delight. Finally, it seemed he’d given them the answer they wanted, and they celebrated with a long period of groping and kissing. During this time, his face grew redder and redder as the fairies stroking his cock held him on the edge, too busy pleasuring each other to worry about him.

He couldn’t resent them for it. He was happy his mistresses were happy. Oh, he loved them so.

At last, though, their attention returned to their new plaything. The fairies fluttered closer, and he shivered, his whole body tingling with the simple bliss of being near his true loves—all thirty-six of them.

“Do you really mean that this time?” inquired a blonde, beaming at him condescendingly. “Are you suuuure?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Always.”

They exchanged looks.

“I dunnoooo...” sang a blue fairy, giggling.

“Yeah, maybe he’s not totally serious,” the blonde agreed.

“I am!” he cried, as the fairies on his cock started to climb up to his head, their heads descending on the glans. “I am!

The fairies considered this, exchanging mischievous grins. He started to pant and buck wildly as the fairies around his cock stared kissing and licking his head with their tiny little tongues. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck...

“You know,” the pink fairy said, laughing, “I think he’s telling the truth this time!”

“Oh my gosh! I think you’re right!” The blonde fairy smirked. “He finally realized he’s our sexy, horny toy now!”

His cock started to throb, and Ciarlo’s eyes widened. They believed him! Finally! But... why were they giggling like that? What were those looks they were giving each oth—

“But there’s only one way to be sure!” the pink fairy sang. “Dunk him, girls!”

His eyes widened. But he didn’t even have time to scream before the fairies dunked his head back beneath the bubbling, intoxicating hot pink waters of the Rose Well, to drink deep of its waters and love more than ever before. And he was cumming, and pleasure was bolting through him, washing all his thoughts away, reinforcing his blissful adoration...

And it wasn’t as if he could ever hold it against them.

What a lovely day, he thought, his mind perfectly blank, docile and dreamy, as they brought him back up for air once more.