Warning the following story depicts acts of consensual sex between teenagers. If stories concerning this disturb you, then you really shouldn't be looking for stories like this, should you?
This story is purely a work of fiction and fantasy. The depictions within are not based on the real life preferences of Emma Watson, Daniel Radcliffe, or Bonnie Wright or any other character living, dead, or imaginary and any resemblance should be put down to coincidence. The author hopes that if anybody mentioned in the stories reads them, they will regard them only as flattery. If they can provide technical expertise that can be of use in future stories in the series, then please drop the author an email.
It's a sunny day and we're on a coach trip. Yep I know that's not a thrilling start, but hey, I'm too tired to be interesting.
It was a 6am call to catch the coach and let's just say Daniel kept me up all night. I'm cuddled up to him now. No, it's not anything serious; apparently he is not looking for a stable relationship. Still, it's nice once in a while, and as Dame Maggie says, a growing girl needs a good variety of cocks.
Bonnie and Rupert are here, as are Matt, Evanna, Katie and the Phellps twins. Apparently, the film company has scored us some VIP passes to Glastonbury. Sometimes it's hard going being an actress!
The coach driver shows some kind of pass to a guy on the gate. A girl in a high-visibility jacket jumps on, looks non-plussed when she sees who we are, then starts giving the driver directions.
After what seems like miles, we arrive outside a small marquee. We get directed off and inside. To my surprise, a familiar face is waiting for us, and the story behind the tickets clicks into place. Bonnie and I exchange apprehensive glances.
"I know you," Daniel starts, "you're Mr..."
" ... Lynn, Round Table Records, yes, I was at your castings for the films. New Job now. A couple of us promotions execs are having a competition to see which companies can get the best celebrities on our guest list. I think I've won!" Merlin smiles a smile that seems designed to win over the hardest of hearts.
"Now, I've got two runners with Land Rovers ready to take you and your stuff to the V.I.P. campsite. Here are your wristbands, you've each got a tent, sleeping bag, novelty large hat, poncho, glasses and other disguises, all courtesy of Round Table, if you want to go around without the hassle. And here is a number for a runner if you want food, drinks, beer or a lift anywhere. All on us, of course. Have fun and I'll see you about."
It wasn't hard to fathom by the look he has just given me and Bonnie that he expects to see us very soon. So much for a quiet life.
Tents up. Stuff unpacked, ready to rock! Well, I would be if an old wizard wasn't about to ask me to do something for him. Bonnie and I decide to walk back over slowly and indirectly. Most of the rest have wandered off around the site. Daniel said he had apparently seen some interesting horses by the gates. Sometimes I wonder what type of stable relationship he is looking for.
We enter the tent to be greeted by not just Merlin, but another guy and the all too obvious smell of beer. It takes me a few seconds or so to match the new guy's face, or rather costume, with a name. He's The Onlooker, a folk-pop artist who is playing one of the stages. You must have seen him; he's one of the big new things, a blind guy who sings long and tedious songs about morally bankrupt societies. He was actually on my pre-festival list of acts to avoid. In person he is imposing, even if sitting down, a big bulky twenty-something year old with a face that looked to have aged beyond its years. He has on a battered denim shirt with a battered pair of jeans.
"Emma, Bonnie, come on in," wheezes Merlin, waving a tankard, "this is an old friend of mine."
I'm immediately suspicious, old friends of Merlin probably don't turn up at random.
"How old?" I ask, possibly a bit too coldly.
"She's good this one." The Onlooker speaks slowly, not bothering to hide a patronising tone. "Well, my father was the court jester for King Vortigen, that's how old."
"Typical, they know nothing of their history." He snorts.
"King Vortigen ruled England before Arthur's father, Uther," Merlin explains, "dangerous man to be involved with."
"Rubbish king." The Onlooker waves his tankard around, spilling something red coloured.
"Yep, rubbish king, good tyrant though."
"Yeah, good tyrant, if you like that kind of thing. He had my dad put to death for not being funny. Now that's a rule we need now, no more Jim Davidson DVDs, anyway, Merlin had me smuggled to a monastery when I was 7 or so. I left there a few centuries later and kind of travelled."
"A few centuries?" Bonnie laughs. She had wandered over to the table at the side of the tent and picked up two cans of beer, walking back, she offers one to me. I crack it open and start to drink. Surprisingly, it tastes rich and not fizzy. I briefly lose track of the room as a warm wave of real ale taste washes over me.
"Yeah, one thing my dad taught me was how to sense magic in the air and use it. It means that I can absorb magic to help me stay youngish. Glastonbury is a great place for me, so much magic buzzing around. It also means I can sense when people use magic, and so I came here to tell Merlin that I felt a new, strong magic user in England. That, I'm told is Emma. As a warning, I doubt I'm the only one who has seen your arrival on the scene. While they won't be able to find you as quick as I can, they are coming. So be careful."
I mutter something apologetic.
"Anyway, to business..." Merlin stands up.
"To business!" The Onlooker yells and raises his tankard in a toast. Bonnie half-heartedly raises her can while laughing.
"No, what I mean is we need to concentrate on our mission. For that, Bonnie and Emma need training, in swordplay."
"Swordplay?" I gasp.
"Learn to understand the weapon of your enemy, and you learn to understand them. Besides, you will need to know how to handle a sword by the end of tomorrow. Right, there are three training swords there, take them out back. Don't worry, they are pretty blunt."
"I'm not allowed a blade," The Onlooker murmured, "since I took holy orders in the monastery, all I can carry is a staff."
Bonnie and I grab the swords and take them out of the back of the tent, into a nice, large, empty field with a copse behind it.
An hour later and my arms are aching from holding the damn thing, my legs are aching from tripping over under the force of the blows and my head is aching as I have clouted myself one too many times with the weapon. I'm not as bad as I was, but hardly a great improvement. Bonnie is much better that me, she even managed to disarm Merlin. The Onlooker is just too quick for both of us; his hearing is almost as good as having eyes. He can also, apparently, sense me through my magic, so I can never get any kind of hit in.
Then it strikes me. We're two teenage starlets, in a field at a music festival, being beaten at a sword fight by two drunk men who have combined ages probably well beyond 3000 years. And one of them can't see. I've had enough of this.
"Look, I've got magic, which do I need this?" I yell as I throw the sword to the ground.
"So young, and already so unknowing." The Onlooker chuckles at me. "If you really think you are that good, try and hit me with your tricks, little girl."
He seems intent on annoying me, and a teenage girl who can throw fireballs is not a person to annoy. More annoyingly, he side steps my fireball.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Merlin and Bonnie making a swift exit back to the tent. I throw a few more balls of fire, followed by clumps of ice, all getting the same result, nothing. Well, a little result, that familiar tinkling in my pussy is back. I try to think of what could be too quick for him, and settle on a mild bit of lightening. The moment I cast the spell, I can see him swing is staff, the next thing I know I'm flat on my back and smoking slightly. I hear his laughter all too clearly.
"Expect the unexpected."
"What the hell was that?"
"My staff is of English Oak but over the centuries, I've travelled to holy men in every continent to get it blessed. As well as being unbreakable, it sometime ago acquired the ability to reflect magic. Now, up on your feet and try again. You're not hurt."
I shake my head clear and leap to my feet. My favourite jacket now has a small hole in the chest where my magic rebounded. Feeling frustrated by my lack of impact on this old guy, I plan a new attack. I look around and see we are surrounded by trees on three sides. Perfect. I close my eyes and concentrate on the trees, I can feel them willing to respond to me, the air too is mine to command. Nobody laughs at Emma Watson unless the scriptwriters want them to.
I uproot a dozen trees on either side of me and coax them into the air; it is just as if I have twenty four giant arms holding them in the air. I open my eyes and stare at this man before me before letting loose with the trees, throwing them at him, driving him back into the woods behind him. The trees are much more of a problem to him than my other magic, as soon as I let go, there is no magic controlling them, his hearing telling him just in time to dart away, but I don't mind. He is falling into my trap.
Safe in the woods, my trees can't chase him, but they can stop him leaving. I block the path behind me with the trees and enter the wood. My senses are heighted. These trees feel different to the trees elsewhere, more magical. I am getting more and more horny as I walk further in. In front of me, The Onlooker continues to taunt me.
I make my move, and transform into a squirrel. Slipping out of my clothes, I race up the nearest tree until I'm forty feet above him. I leap from tree to tree, looking down on my prey. Below me, he is confused. I conjure up various bits and bobs to rain down on him. Magical missiles fall out of the sky around him, distracting my foe. When I am confident that he is being diverted by all these magic echoes, I leap out of the tree over him. Magic slows my fall and transforms be back into Emma Watson, teenage girl. I'm too intent on the win to be bothered that I am now naked. Too late, he notices me and can just brace himself before I land on him, bringing us both crashing to the ground.
He didn't stop me as a tear at his clothes, pulling his shirt open so I can feel his chest, dragging his jeans down to free his cock. Within moments, I sink myself onto his erection. I gasp as he bottoms out in me then I start riding this man like there is no tomorrow. His hands are soft and warm on my arse, supporting me as my legs pump for all they are worth. I don't care that I am doing all the work, or that anybody could find us, all I want to do is cum. He leans forward to suck on one of my teenage tits, but no, I am in control, he is just there for his cock, I push him down as I arch my back, moments from that glorious climax.
It floods over me, the warmth and glory of a much deserved orgasm. I feel the magic flow into me, more powerful than ever, the world is clearer than ever, but it is over too soon. The visions fade after no time. Under me, The Onlooker is spurting his seed in me. Drained, I collapse on him.
"Wow." He pants after a while. "Can you always see the world around you when you cum?"
"How did... ?"
"I saw it too, for the first time in millennia, I saw colour. I absorbed your vision like I absorb all magic. That was one of the most powerful experiences I've ever had."
"It wasn't too bad from up here either!" I joke.
Before embarrassment set in, I summon my clothes and put them on. I help the old man up.
"I only saw you for a moment, but you are a beautiful girl," he growls, "it isn't often I get to tell anybody that!"
I look at him and notice a change. "You look younger."
"Magic replenishes me; your orgasm probably took two years off me!"
Back in the tent, Bonnie and Merlin share a knowing glance as we enter. "You two are quite finished?" She asks.
My attempts to fain innocence don't go down to well.
"Emma, we all know about what happens when you use magic. Besides, you are smirking and he somehow looks younger. If that wasn't enough, you both have twigs in your hair. Anyway, Merlin was about to tell us why we are here."
I sit down in a deck chair and open the beer that Bonnie gives me.
Merlin clears empties his tankard and rests it on the table in front of him. "Okay, now, back in the days before Arthur, I was of need of a great sword to help fight for justice. To get it, I found the most powerful sorceress in the land, a creature of great power who called herself The Lady of The Lake. Her power came from the waters of the magical lake. Years later, this sword was the one that Arthur pulled from the stone, it was Excalibur, the true sword of the King. At his death, he bid me to return it to The Lady of the Lake. When it was flung into the lake, she reached up a hand to take it and guard it until it was needed again.
"That lake was here. When the monks of the abbey owned the land they drained it. They said it was to farm the land, but it was really because they feared her power. The old ways repulsed their world view. We need that sword back before Arthur can return.
"The only way to get it is for The Lady of the Lake to allow it to be taken. For that to happen, we need her to come back. That means we need to recreate the lake. The magic in the ground in Glastonbury will make the lake magical and once it is large enough, you can visit The Lady's lair and retrieve the sword."
I think about this for a moment.
"Why can't you do it?"
"You know her, why do Bonnie and I have to get the sword?"
"Put simply, I don't think she has forgiven me for dumping her."
"Great, that's what I need to hear. Ignoring that, how can we make the Lake?"
"We both create rain storms. We flood the site, the lake was never that deep and we don't need The Lady to have all her old powers back, so a night's rain should do it."
"You can't flood the festival. It'll ruin it for everybody."
"Nonsense, everybody loves Glastonbury when it is a mudbath. You wait, you'll see dozens of people having the time of their lives swimming in mud puddles, not knowing or caring what bodily fluids are also mixed in. Oh, and yes, your tents are on high ground. So Emma, on three, bring on the rain. One ... two ... three!"
I can feel myself talking to every raindrop within a thousand miles and calling them to me. I am the rain queen, I am pulling all the moisture out of the sky and dumping it on...
"Emma, Emma, get your sex head off!"
"Ehh," I open my eyes and glance at Bonnie who is shaking me, and was is soaking wet.
"We need the rain storm outside the tent, now get over your orgasm and concentrate."
Now I notice that it does seem to be raining very had inside the tent. I shrug and concentrate on moving the storm outside. Yes, that seems better.
Bonnie looks relived and grabs a pair of umbrellas from a stand in the corner of the tent. Merlin seems content to let us go. She turns to him just before we leave the safety of the tent.
"So, how do we find this lady then?"
"Ahh, that I do not know. Meet me here at ten tomorrow and we will discuss what to do. For tonight, farewell."
We get a runner to take us back to the tents. He seems a nice lad, Bonnie certainly thinks so as she invites him back to her tent. I feel a bit drained and settle for a long doze in my dry tent, listening to the rain.
Later in the evening, I get up for a walk around. I guess that Merlin is right about this place being magical because I somehow feel more alive than ever. I almost feel like each drop of rain is talking to me. The magic I used to make the storm is having an effect on me and gradually making me hornier. After half an hour, I realise another problem with this situation, the sound of water falling is making me really want to have a piss.
By now it is almost pitch black and I have no idea where the nearest toilets might be. I figure that the nearby copse is as good a place as any to have a quick wee. I pull down my jeans and panties, confidant that my waterproof poncho and the darkness will retain my modesty even if anybody happened to come along, and hang them on a tree branch. I let out a sigh as I let the water out; suddenly I hear two voices approaching. Men's voices.
They take position either side of me and I hear them unzipping and starting to pee. One of them speaks to me.
"Nice place for it mate."
I grunt, trying to sound masculine. I thought men made it a rule not to talk at the urinals. I wonder if this rule doesn't apply in a night-time wood in Glastonbury.
"I'm Kev by the way, he's John. What about you?"
There is no way that I'm going to get away with pretending to be a guy. Not only that, I admit that being virtually naked under this waterproof standing in-between two guys with their cocks out is turning me on.
I use my most cutesy-girly voice. "I'm whoever you want me to be!"
Kev doesn't seem to flinch in finding out I was a girl. "We'll call you Emily then. Do you like it Emily, that two boys are pissing next to you?"
"Would you like it more if they were pissing on you?"
I don't even hesitate. "Yes. Emily would like that very much."
"Well then Emily, take off that waterproof and let us do a proper job on you."
I do as they ask, and in moments feel two streams of hot piss on me. I pull my t-shirt off as well, letting them pee over all my naked body. I can feel it in my hair, on my face and on my tits. It seems to go on for hours, maybe it was just seconds, who knows, who cares.
"Kev mate," John called, "was lucky we had that 12-pack earlier, this bitch got a hell of a load of piss. Did you like that Emily?"
"Are you the kind of slut who wants to be fucked after being pissed on?"
"Of course I am."
"Well, me and Kev aren't going to fuck you with piss on our cocks are we? Are you going to clean them off?"
I don't answer them, instead I sink to my knees. I feel the mud beneath my knees, wet with both rain and piss. I reach out and grab John's cock. I run my tongue around the head, tasting his piss, mixed with the familiar taste of dick. Intent on cleaning him up, I explore every millimetre of it, running up and down the underside before taking the five inch tool into my mouth.
He withdraws, smacking each side of my face with his cock, I submit to my masters, wanting them to abuse me. He walks away, out of my sight and Kev takes his place. I repeat my routine on this new, shorter, fatter penis. Behind me, I feel the fumbling of a man trying to find his way into my waiting cunt. At last, he pumps into me, grunting as he fucks me. My own pants and grunts are muffled by the cock in my mouth. Public hair tickles my nose as they roast me, unaware of the real identity of their slut.
At some point they swap and I get to taste my pussy juice mixed with pre-cum. Kev, behind me, jerks in and out of me, his fat cock sending shivers through my body, building up the tension inside me, begging to be released.
He pulls out and without a word, I feel him searching for my arsehole. Unable to object, I feel him start to sodomise me. I want to beg him to go harder, to hurt me more. Trapped and powerless, my orgasm hits me.
I see stream rising from the puddles on the ground where my hands are as heat vaporises the fallen rain. I see the festival in its entirety, I see everybody, all the punters, the staff and the acts then I see a lady, dressed in white, dominating my vision.
"Emma, Emma, you seek the sword," her voice echoed in my head, "you seek me. You will find me. Once I am satisfied the sword will let you take it. Be warned, nobody has satisfied my demands since Merlin. Seek me and seek me well and you will find me..."
I come back to myself, on my hands and knees in a puddle of piss and rain caked in sweat and mud with a mouth and asshole full of cum. John and Kev as walking off, back to the festival. Drained and groggy, I ask the rain to obey me again, concentrating them into a power shower spray, washing me clean. I grab my clothes, and follow John and Kev back into the crowd and make for my tent.
Morning arrives and I make my way back across the site to Merlin's tent. Most of the festival site is a mud bath, and, since it was only Thursday, the thing hasn't even officially began. I pass at least two people swimming in puddles of mud.
Bonnie is already there, as is The Onlooker. I tell them what the Lady of the Lake said to me, but nobody can see anything in her words to help us. Merlin does not want to expand on what challenge I would have to satisfy was. The Onlooker was generally vague in informing us that there was a lot of magic about today, but he doesn't want to say if that is a good thing or not. After snacking on some chicken wings and chips, we don our festival disguises and head left. We had discussed this in the tent, and pretty much couldn't decide which way to go, so I'd taken the decision to just head left until we came to somebody telling us otherwise.
Merlin had said that there was enough water for the Lady to have some of her power back so we had turned off the storm. He had also warned us that since the Lady was not at her full strength, she may be a bit unpredictable and scatty.
It was after walking around the edge of the lake for an hour that we pass an old man relaxing on a chair by the lake. I don't pay him too much attention until he calls out.
"Emma, can you stop for a while?"
Pretty sure that he couldn't tell who we were from the disguises, we both stop in shock. The man is wearing a loose fitting linen cream shirt and trousers. He must be at least sixty, with a bushy grey beard. His cream hat is nothing like I'd ever seen before, with a wide floppy brim that hides his hair. I could just see underneath that he has an eye patch. He pulls his long pipe from his mouth and clears his throat.
"Weather is good for sword hunting isn't it?"