The screams of almost any woman would have drawn Jack; he always wanted to be the gallant type. Though with his pale, scrawny, computer-nerd frame he was often more victim than victor. The fact that the girl had a figure to make the copper statue at Madison University sweat didnât factor into his decision. And the fact that she was one of the Fae races would have only spurred him on. Too many people mistreated them anyway.
Ever since the Celestial Conjunction that made magic possible again, people have been finding excuses to bully around the Elves, Nymphs, Satyrs, and other faerie creatures that sought refuge on Earth again after all these centuries. Most of them became naturalized citizens, so abusing them was extremely unjust.
They were the Dykes; a radical gang of feminist extremists that violently resented the beautiful, magical fae and their âdisruptive influencesâ. The truth was that the Dykes, these two being no exception; were small-breasted, vitriolic shrews that embraced lesbianism as a substitute for the men their bland bodies could never hope to attract. Again, these two were no exception.
Jack had almost forgotten about the Pixies. They were usually so small that they escaped notice. But this one had magicked herself to around 6 feet in height. But despite her human stature, the diaphanous, crystalline wings sprouting from her back through the white tank-top she wore marked her as a magical creature. But that alone was not enough to provoke an attack in broad daylight; even in a back-alley like this.
The Dykes probably didnât care about her wings, or her exotic, purple hair, or the wispy antennae on her head. It was her wide, birthing hips, toned legs, and porn-star bosom that kindled the rage of the flat-chested lesbians. Her denim short-shorts were scuffed and dirty from falling down in the back-alley. An iron chain was wrapped around her waist, as the chain wielded by the other dyke was about to strike her ample bottom yet again.
âLEAVE HER ALONE!!â Thundered Jack. Mustering all the courage he could find in his 130-pound body. Really, the Dykes were about the same size as he was, plus they were armed!
The first Dyke, a butch-haired brunette with a nose-ring glared at him nervously. Dyke number 2 tensed and awaited a decision.
âNah, donât wanna attract a crowd, letâs split sister!â The wiry lesbos took off in the other direction.
Jack helped to gather the pixiesâ books. She was a student, like him. He thought he might have seen her on campus once. That was why she was human-sized; it wouldnât be easy to haul around 40-pounds worth of textbooks at 6-inches in height!
âTh-thank you! That was very brave!â her voice was like a velvet flute. She stood to her full height, a few inches taller than Jack. âThey wrapped iron around me, my magic was useless; otherwise I would have shrunk and escaped.â It was common knowledge that the Fae were all very vulnerable to iron; it cancelled their magic, and acted like poison in their bodies.
âNo problem, really. It was the least I could do.â Jack puffed out his chest as best he could.
âThe bosom-less ones could have mortally wounded me, killed me even had you not stopped by! That was truly heroic of you! I cannot stay, but I musnât leave without rewarding you.â She sauntered closer to him, and Jack became painfully aware of another rationale for the Pixiesâ appearance. The fairy races were in decline, dying out before they reached Earth. Their only hope was to mate with mortal men, bearing children that would have the magical heritage of the Fae, added to the vitality and ambition of mankind.
Her wide hips stretched the confines of the tiny, denim shorts, sculpted legs and cantaloupe-sized tits barely encased in her tank-top created a package that screamed with lusty fertility. He hoped she couldnât hear his gulp. Despite his attempt at gallantry, he barely noticed her face, eyes shifting between thrusting mammaries, jutting hips, and the slender slope of her legs down to the delicate sandals that cradled her perfect feet. But whatever her face looked like, Jack was sure it was beautiful.
âHold still, you must allow me to reward youâŚâ she knelt down, reaching for his zipper, and tugging.
âWhoa, waitâŚI donât want, well yes, but you donât have toâŚI mean I donât expectâŚâ
âHush, heroic mortal. It is not what you are thinking. I assure you this will be pleasing.â Soon, his fly was undone, and her silky-soft, fairy fingers were reaching into his underwear. Jack seriously wondered if it was truly impossible for others to hear his thundering heartbeat.
No, it wasnât what he thinking; if it was he might have been worried that she would be dismayed by the modest size of his male member. She seemed unconcerned, merely cradling his balls in her hand as she freed his entire apparatus, cock and all, from his increasingly confining pants. She studied his manhood with a determined gaze before starting.
She chanted something in a lilting tongue that sounded like a river singing opera. She held balls and cock in her left hand, while waving and gesturing with her right. Curiosity almost overcame the pounding lust within him. Almost. Tiny motes of light appeared around his pants as the chanting continued.
Finally, her pert lips kissed the tip of his member, and then redeposited his erect length back into his pants.
âIt is a sort of Summoning spell, rather unique as youâll discover.â Ms. Pixie grabbed her pack, fluttered her frilly wings, and levitated a few feet above the ground as she flitted away to her 1.p.m. class. HmmâŚ.It was impossible for those tiny wings to support her human stature in flight, it must be more magic.
What did she mean, Summoning spell? She cast some spell upon him? That had him worried. But since heâd just saved her life, it was unthinkable that she would try to hurt him. Would this spell be more fun than a blow-job would have been?