...And Don't Call Me Tinker Bell

by

Tags: Ma/Fa, High Fantasy, Humor, .

Desc: Fantasy Story: Did you ever wish for a Fairy Godmother? Be careful what you wish for.

"Don't just stand there gawping. Help me you fucking asshole!"

Wasn't there something somewhere about six impossible things before breakfast? A foul-mouthed fairy in the middle of my back lawn probably counted for two or three of them. She, and she was definitely a she, stood naked on the grass chained by one ankle to a largish stone that hadn't been there yesterday. Neither had she of course. A stone? We do have foxes around here. But a fairy? An honest-to-goodness six-inch tall fairy with butterfly wings, a pissed-off expression and a broad command of the English language. That was just weird.

"Well... ?"

That pissed-off expression was getting pisseder-off by the second. "OK, I'll help. What do I need to do, Tin..."

"Don't!" she shouted, interrupting me. "Don't ever use that fucking name where I can hear it. Not ever!"

This was one very irate fairy. I suppose being chained to a rock overnight could do that. "OK, Fucker Bell, what do I need to do?"

"Fucker Bell..." She paused. "Yeah I like it. Fucker Bell. That's a good one, big guy."

"I'm Nick, Nick Sutton."

"Right, Nick, you need an iron chisel and a hammer."

"Will steel do? Most stuff these days is steel, not iron."

"Dunno. Try it and see."

Off to the tool-shed for a hammer and chisel. Yup, steel, not pure iron. Well, it would have to do. When I got back she had her arms folded under her tits – did I mention that she was naked? – and the pissed-off look was back. "Do I cut the chain?"

"No, idiot. First turn the stone over so I can see which sigil the bastard used."

"The bastard?"

"My bastard brother. Now turn that fucking rock over. Use the chisel. Don't touch the rock yourself."

"If your brother is a bastard..."

"Got it in one. He's a bastard and I'm a bitch."

I flipped the rock with the chisel. "I'd noticed." Wasted words, she wasn't paying attention.

The stone had a strange glowing orange design underneath it. She studied it closely, without touching either the sigil or the stone. "Shit! How the hell did my bastard brother learn to use that one? His balls are toast."

"Do I still need the chisel?" I asked.

"To deactivate the sigil, you moron. I'll tell you where and when."

While she studied the sigil, I studied her. Six inches of very nice looking naked blonde female, if you liked your women extremely small, angry and with butterfly wings that is. She was bending over, peering at the rock, so I could get a good look at her bum. Apart from the size, her shape was late teens or early twenties. Small tits, in proportion to the rest of her. At full size, and without the wings, she'd certainly turn a few heads. Even with clothes on.

"OK, stop staring at my arse and get to work."

Whoops! She'd caught me there. "It's a very nice arse," I said in my defence. "Where do I start?"

"I know it's a nice arse. I've had it all my fucking life, so I know what it looks like. There. Break that junction." She pointed to where three lines in the sigil joined, careful not to touch the thing itself. "Only touch it with the iron; don't touch it yourself. And that goes double for my arse."

I hadn't intended to touch the rock anyway, her warnings and the way she'd carefully avoided touching it herself made me wary. As soon as the tip of the chisel met the surface of the rock, I could feel a vibration through my hand. The glowing orange colour started pulsing like something alive. The sigil somehow knew what was happening. I needed two strikes with the hammer to chisel out the junction. The rock was harder than it looked, and my first blow hadn't been hard enough. "So I can touch your arse with the chisel, but not with my hand?"

"Try it and you can fuck me. Now cut it here." She pointed to another junction point in the sigil.

Again I broke the junction, just one blow this time since I knew how hard to strike. "I can fuck you if I touch your arse?"

"You wouldn't like it. Now here."

We talked while we worked. She pointed and I chiselled bits off the sigil. "Why wouldn't I like fucking you?"

"How big is your dick, Nick?" She grinned at the rhyme.

"About six inches."

"Do you think it would fit? Seriously?"

She had a good point there. Standing stiff, my dick was about as tall as she was. "Couldn't you make yourself larger?"

"No can do. I can't change much about myself. Changing you however..." She got this interesting expression on her face. Oh dear. I think I preferred the pissed-off look. "So, unless you fancy going through the rest of your life with a half-inch dick, trying to find another fairy to fuck, then lay off my arse." OK, I got the message – look but don't touch.

When I chipped the next piece out of the sigil, the pulsating, glowing orange faded to a dull brownish orange. No more glow or anything, just an ordinary dull colour. She smiled. "Good. I was pretty sure that would work. Now you can cut the chain."

I arranged the chain over the rock, ready to cut. "So what did you do to your brother to piss him off?"

"I didn't do anything to him."

I looked at her sceptically. She was trying to look innocent, but failing.

"Not to him. To his girlfriend."

I cut the chain and waited. There was obviously more.

She unwrapped the end of the chain from her ankle. "Thanks."

"His girlfriend?" I persisted.

She rubbed her ankle, trying to delay her answer. "I fucked her," she finally admitted.

"Fucker Bell the fuck fairy. She fucks anyone. Except me."

"Pretty much. I'll even fuck you if you don't mind me shrinking..."

"No, no, that's fine," I interrupted hastily. "I'll pass on that, thank you. Anyway, how did you fuck her? You don't even have half-an-inch to fuck her with."

"You big people are so naïve. I used a strap-on. We do have dildos in Faerie you know. Actually, being a moron, perhaps you didn't."

"Where did you learn about dildos?" I asked, puzzled. I didn't remember dildos in any fairy stories I'd ever read.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / High Fantasy / Humor /