Original story and characters are Copyright © 2007 by OddOne. All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be retransmitted in any medium or manner without the author’s express permission.



Disclaimer & Foreword

This story is intended to be pretty dark and gruesome, so if you’re easily offended by ideas like physical and emotional abuse, torture, maiming, death, and worse, you might want to skip this story.

It was inspired by a series of posts and pictures relating to fairies that was posted over at Gurochan, a board devoted to darker things. Not a place for the timid or the easily disturbed.

Although this story is pretty rough, don’t think it’s some telling peek into the author’s psyche. He’s probably more normal and at least slightly saner than you are – he just happens to have a rather active imagination. This isn’t intended to be a morality tale or a cry for help or anything but an interesting piece of fiction, so don’t read any extra meaning into it. It’s a disturbing story to be sure, but nothing more than a story.

Oh, if this offends you, (1) get a grip, and (2) find something else to read.

Prologue
It’s Worth Noting…

These are my random musings, basically consisting of stories, experiences, and anecdotes related to my fairy research. Some events predate my first writings, some land between first and second, and some follow after the second. Despite this, I’ll present them in no particular order.

They aren’t intended to act as some sort of linear story, and I claim the right to babble semi-coherently about whatever I feel like babbling about. You have been warned.

Random Musing
The Fairy Store

After the world came to know of them and their near-irresistible cuteness, a few entrepreneurial types started to offer fairies for sale as pets. Of course this is at best a cruel thing to do to a sapient being, and at worst acts as a death sentence that will follow a pretty short and unspeakably bad life. Then again I suppose I can’t give anyone flak about how mean it is to sell a fairy as a pet given what I do with, and to, them.

But still such an enterprise warrants investigation, and in all likelihood a write-up of some sort to alert other researchers and the occasionally psychotic fairy protection activist groups springing up all over the planet. So, since I have to visit Atlanta on business anyway, I might as well see about visiting one I found online – a rather large fairy farm up in Norcross, one of the ATL suburbs. They claim to have a wide selection of well-behaved and smart fairies, and I’m very quick to note the absence of the word “intelligent” in the description. The proprietors clearly want potential customers to think of “smart” fairies like they do “smart” dogs, not like they do “smart” human children. And since an adult fairy is about on par with an eight-year-old human in terms of intellectual capacity that would be very off-putting to mommies looking to buy an adorable, live Tinkerbell clone for their obnoxious preteen daughters. This would be especially off-putting if the fairy turned out to be smarter than the daughter, which is always a distinct possibility.


I roll into the parking lot about ten in the morning on a Saturday and find that I’m not alone in my interest in this place, although my reasons for the interest differ greatly I’m sure. From the outside it looks like a pretty respectable business, with a nice façade and spacious parking lot that has a good dozen or so vehicles scattered about, most of them minivans that were probably piloted by soccer moms. I park my rent-a-wreck and wander in, prepared to convey the impression of a doting daddy looking to score a cute widdle pwesent for his cute widdle girl.

As I enter I note that the operation is actually pretty well done, much to my surprise. The fairies are in large, relatively open enclosures with large trees and foliage, both real and fictional, about. They’re also flying about freely, and a quick glance by an expert tells that the operators of this fairy farm have a good number of examples of four of the six known species. Various prospective customers are milling about, and sure enough, most are moms with daughters. Almost invariably there’s at least two girls pressed to the glass of each enclosure, squirming and squealing with delight at the sight of real live fairies in flight.

Tons of fact and figure displays and habitat-conservation information signs also dot the scenery. Clearly the folks involved with this operation would like their product to actually exist in the wild for as long as possible, which regardless of the motivation isn’t a bad thing.

As I walk by and peer into each enclosure I see variable reactions to my presence. Some fairies fly up to the glass to investigate. Others ignore me. Still others fly up aggressively and begin beating on the glass with their fists and scream something I can’t hear. And a good number of them cower in the background, hiding among the tree limbs provided as perches or crawling behind other elements of their display slash habitat, clearly trying to escape notice. I send visible shivers into a few of them by staring specifically and obviously at them as they try to hide.

One thing that leaps to my mind immediately is that they’re all female. They’re also all dressed the same, and as I lean in to look at one that’s trying to get my attention I note their outfits are human-made silk, in the form of basic halter tops and shorts tied at the waist. I can barely hear her shouting, and what I can make out is a request for help.

A voice comes at me from behind, its tone sharp and perfunctory. “Looking for anything in particular?”

I turn round to see a woman that would fit the stereotype of a librarian, down to the horn-rimmed glasses with chain-style lanyard attached to them.

“How much are you asking for them?”

“The tiny ones are fifty dollars each, mid-sized are seventy-five each, doll-sized are one hundred each, and tall are one fifty each. We also have supplies, books on caring for them, toys to keep them occupied and happy, medicine, and food.”

“Are these hand-raised or caught wild?”

“Wild. Fairies aren’t bred in captivity. That said, we check them over thoroughly and vaccinate against known diseases.”

“Excellent. By the way, I noticed they all look female.”

“Yes, we only sell females. The males are too aggressive to have as pets.”

I turn back to stare into one of the enclosures. “Well, they are the protectors after all.”

“Sir?”

“Protectors. Male fairies protect the villages. I’d imagine you probably have to get rid of them.”

She stares at me, her eyes getting beady. “Are you from some sort of animal-rights group?” I turn back to her, as there are now a few fairies hoping to get my attention, drumming nearly inaudibly on the glass with their tiny fists and yelling out things that are equally nearly inaudible. One of them was obviously bawling recently and looks to be absolutely terrified. I glare at her in particular and that sets her off on another round of crying. Some call me heartless but it’s amusing to me to make them cry so easily.

“No. God no. I can’t stand those people. Bunch of nutjobs.” I reach into my pocket to fetch my business card case, and as I produce one to give her I introduce myself as a fairy researcher, and mention that I’m always looking for fairies for my research projects.

She takes the card and looks at the name, and through her body language I see a light go on in her head. She excuses herself and almost runs to the back of the place, vanishing through a combo-locked door marked “employees only.”


A few moments later as I’m looking into a pen full of the tallest species they have, each about eight or so inches tall, I hear a male voice from behind call me by name. I turn around and see the librarian type woman and a gruff-looking bearded man. He suddenly becomes more friendly looking, and says, “It IS you! Wow, I’ve been reading your research papers for a long time!” Apparently he’d seen my photo somewhere.

He introduces himself as Bill Vaughn, and the librarian clone as his wide Gladys.

“Nice operation you’ve got here. I’m actually pleasantly surprised.”

“Coming from you that means a lot. Your fairy salve saved a lot of my little cutie-pies here.”

I choke back a laugh – yep, he’s read my work all right. “Yeah, that stuff’s worth its weight in gold to the flutter brigade. How many do you have, anyway?”

He looks around. “Oh, probably five hundred. I’d have more if they would breed in captivity.”

“How are you getting these, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I have locals bring ‘em in all the time, and every now and then somebody calls in to let me know about a village. When I get a tip on where some are I go round ‘em up, clean ‘em up, check ‘em out, and put ‘em up for sale.”

“Anyone give you grief about selling intelligent creatures as pets?” As I say this I note a couple moms within earshot are eavesdropping. The phrase “intelligent creatures” drew some eyebrow raising.

“A few, but they’re the same kind of people that think we shouldn’t be eating cows.”

“Roger that, I like my steak made from real meat. By the way, I was telling Ms. Vaughn here that I only saw females in your enclosures.”

“Yeah, the males are too aggressive to make good pets and nobody wants a male fairy anyway. The females are the cute ones,” he adds, over-embellishing and syrup-coating the “cute ones” part of his comment.

“If you’re killing them anyway I’d be happy to take a few off your hands for my research. I can’t offer much but I can offer a little cash for them.”

“Oh I don’t kill ‘em.”

This surprises me. A lot. “You don’t?”

“Nah. I keep ‘em in their own pens in the back. I figure if someone like you ever works out how to breed ‘em in captivity they’ll all be worth a great deal.”

“True...”

“Besides, I kinda like the little shits. Killing isn’t my way. C’mon, lemme give you the grand tour. It’s not often I get a real life expert in here. Maybe you could give me some pointers on making this operation better for us and them both.”

“Sure, why not? I’m curious about your setup anyway. I don’t deal with large numbers of them at one time and certainly not on the wing like that.”

“Oh, we have ways of catching ‘em that’s for sure.“

I laugh, adding, “I bet!”

With that we head through the door marked “employees only.”

Random Musing
Inter-Species Relations

I just got off the phone with the State Department. Yeah, THAT State Department. Amusingly enough I’m, well, wait, I should tell this tale from the beginning.


A few days ago I got a call from Washington, DeeCee. While this isn’t necessarily unusual in and of itself as I get calls from that way pretty regularly, what was strange was that the other end was asking me a lot of pointed questions regarding a diplomatic manpower request they received from the Brazilian government that mentioned my name very specifically.

This was most intriguing to me given that I’ve never talked with anyone that even remotely claimed involvement with a government, let alone the Foreign Ministry of Brazil. Sure enough, though, the docs they had on hand named me down to my unused and rarely mentioned middle name and my complete physical mailing address, so it’s unlikely they had the wrong person. When I asked about why someone from Brazil would be wanting to clear me for a diplomatic trip, they only mentioned a certain research group that I did have contact with quite frequently.

The research group working with the massive fairy city in the Amazon basin, as it turns out.

In Brazil, as it also turns out.

Well, crap, guess I did have something going on but up until then all I thought was up was that I had been an inadvertent help with my fairy salve, which they were using in almost scary quantities to patch up the flutter brigade.


I did some E-mailing, and got the backstory and where I fit into things.


When the researchers there found my online posts regarding fairy physiology – and in particular my recipe for a potent first-aid ointment I’d concocted that helps my own research subjects to survive my research – they took the info and ran with it. And in so doing they just about cured the massive fairy city of several minor and not-so-minor plagues. Apparently their efforts triggered a medical renaissance, as fairies simply haven’t devoted much effort toward anything more advanced medically than basic folk medicine. The researchers knew way more about fairy physiology and medical treatment options than the fairies themselves did!

This was all so well received by the fairies there that efforts began to coalesce on several fronts to create a committee to act as a liaison between the humans and the fairies. The fairies acting as their side of the shindig requested me specifically to act as a consultant regarding their medical issues, citing my expertise in their physiology as the primary reason for their choice.

To add to the weird factor, since the Brazilian government doesn’t have anything in their legal system to accommodate dealing with a sapient nonhuman species, they fell back on the laws and systems they had in place for acclimating deep-rainforest tribes to the modern era. As such, the still-forming committee fell under their Interior Ministry’s jurisdiction, but as there are multiple species involved and there were requests made for non-Brazilian reps for the human side of the committee, that also kicked in some disused protocols that got the Foreign Ministry involved.

The Foreign Ministry is treating the foreigner side of the equation as they would any embassy level international manpower request, and as such processed the request for me as an ambassadorial thing.

The long and short of it is that the request for my involvement came through diplomatic channels, instead of academic ones. As a result, I’m getting phone calls from the State Department.

Still, it’s damned strange to me.


At first they were pretty much in the mindset of “who the hell are you and why the hell is Brazil requesting you come there as an ambassador?” This was a question that I pretty much was also asking up until I got the important details. Now they’re referring to me as Mister Capitalized Last Name Important Type Person, and the demeanor over the phone is as to a head of state – very controlled, dignified, and mildly creepy to a civvie with no political experience and even fewer political aspirations.


Fast forward to the call I just got.


I’ve been cleared by Brazil to travel there next month for a month-long committee formation thing, and according to the State Department I’ve been granted a full-bore diplomatic visa. If what they tell me is true, the government over there even granted me diplomatic immunity during my stay, as though I were a real live foreign dignitary. This absolutely blows my mind.

I wonder if I can smuggle out some new test subjects.

Random Musing
The Fairy Store – Part Two

The first place Bill and Gladys take me is to one of their habitat rooms. As we enter, Gladys excuses herself to tend to the store, and Bill shows me around.

I was impressed from the first step into the sales floor side of the operation, and what he’s got going on here in the back of the shop is amazing.

“Damn,” I sputter.

“What?”

“This is incredible. Climate controlled and everything!”

“Yep. I pipe in sunlight with fiber optics. Also have the lighting set up to cycle with the sun. That keeps the little shits calm.” He laughs, adding, “Well, as calm as they’re gonna get given the circumstances anyway.”

“Indeed. Mine don’t like fluorescents.”

“Nah, the wavelength’s all wrong for ‘em. Hurts their eyes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He walks over to a large mesh-screen enclosure with fairies flitting about inside. “This is one of my pens for the males.”

I look in, and it’s full of males all right, each about six inches tall. Pretty much all possible combos of skin tone, hair color, eye color, and body type that exist for that particular species are represented. “How many are in here?”

“That pen has fifty-three of ‘em.”

I see a small bottle of bleach and a rag near another pen. “What’s with the bleach?”

“Sterilization. I have extra pens so I clean ‘em out regularly. The little shits drop their wastes on the fly and it gets to stinkin’ in a hurry if I don’t keep it spotless.”

“Oh, man, you don’t want to use bleach around fairies.”

“I don’t?”

“Hell no. Ever see what it does to them?”

“I haven’t had any problems with it. Why, what does it do?”

“If you don’t mind a little experiment I can demonstrate.”

He gets all excited at the prospect of seeing me do my thing. “Sure!”

“It’ll cost one fairy though.”

“By cost you mean –“

I look at him gravely. “COST. So pick one you don’t like.”

“Gotcha.”

He gets a small butterfly net and heads to a pen. As he does, they see him coming and scatter. He surveys the enclosure’s occupants, and grabs a net once he spots his quarry. A quick motion and he has a small access door open and a net inside the enclosure, and a quick flick of the wrist deposits an upset male fairy into the net. He removes it, deftly twisting it closed while closing the pen’s access door. I can hear the frightened male crying like a girl in the net. This is doubly amusing to me since that particular species tends to whimper when scared, not cry.

“Here ya go,” he says, offering the net. I reach in and snag the fairy. As I pull him out of the net he’s crying, terrified, and begging to be let go.

“Now I need some sort of airtight container, and a cotton ball.”

“Over here,” he replies, heading to a workbench strewn with shipping supplies. One of the things there is a wide mouthed plastic jar of the sort used for medical specimens. I drop the fairy in and quickly reinstall the lid. The poor scared thing looks to be a fairly young adult, and in human terms would be probably mid-twenties in age. He stands there in the jar, looking around with his arms crossed and knees shaking visibly.

I grab a cotton ball from some medical stuff on one side of the workbench and quickly saturate it with the bleach. I then unscrew the lid, drop it in, and screw the lid back on, all as quickly as I can.

“Watch this,” I instruct.


At first the fairy is confused, and he reaches down and picks up the cotton ball with one hand in order to investigate. Bad move. The bleach in it quickly begins to burn him and he drops it with a yell. He looks at his hand and starts to scream in pain as it begins to literally smoke in reaction to the bleach.

After about ten seconds he starts to run around the jar, screaming louder and louder. The reason for this quickly becomes apparent as his skin starts to blister. Twenty seconds more and the clear portions of his wings start to melt and he stops running, choosing instead to beat on the jar’s inside with his usable hand, his other hand already melted off down to his wrist. The intensity of his screaming continues to increase, and after only a minute of exposure his body is smoking as the fumes begin to burn his flesh off his body.

Bill stands up, his face showing concern mixed with horror as he watches the fairy stagger and fall, screaming with an eerie bloodcurdling shriek that can send chills down the spine of the hardiest of men. The fairy collapses and begins to write in agony and gurgle about ninety seconds in, his lungs and air passages being corroded by the bleach fumes he’s breathing. Just over two minutes since I added the cotton ball, the fairy goes silent. His eyes roll upward and he dies, with his skin falling off and his newly exposed muscles bubbling as though he swam in battery acid. A few seconds later and his eyes pop, their ocular fluid oozing down the now partially exposed skull.

“That’s what chlorine bleach does to fairies.”

Bill looks horrified. “Oh my God!”

“You should see what pure hypochlorite does instead of this watered-down stuff. Can reduce a live fairy to goop and bones in less than a minute.”

Bill looks at me, shocked. “I had no idea… I coulda killed all of my little shits by accident!”

“Yep, pretty much.”

“So what should I use to keep their pens sanitary?”

“Dish soap’s the best thing I’ve found, surprisingly enough. Antibacterial stuff works, but make sure it has NO bleach in it. Nothing with chlorine or chlorine salts. Something about their body chemistry doesn’t tolerate chlorine at all.”


Gladys returns, and tells Bill that a customer has a question she can’t answer offhand. They exit to the front of the store to do the customer service thing, and I follow.

We get to the front near one of the smaller species’ habitat, and encounter a rather attractive woman that would qualify for MILF status on most scales devoted to that sort of thing. She’s got a young preteen or barely-teen girl in tow that looks like she got all of the best appearance genes from her mom.

Bill introduces himself to her, and she asks, “I’m interested in getting a fairy and everything necessary for one for my daughter, but I have a question.”

“Sure, fire away.”

“Let’s assume that my Amber wants to play with her fairy. What do we do to prevent it flying away as soon as it’s freed from its cage? Do I clip its wings like a bird or something?”

“No, fairy wings are more like insect wings than bird wings. Cutting them injures the fairy.”

“So there’s no way to prevent it from escaping then?”

I chime in. “Bill, mind if I take a stab at this one?”

Bill looks at me, surprised. “Sure. Ma’am, he’s one of the world’s foremost fairy experts. If anyone will have a good suggestion it’s him.”

I blush briefly, noting, “World’s foremost, huh? Well, anyway, there are two really simple and very effective ways to ground a fairy without having to damage its wings. One is semi-permanent, meaning that the fairy is pretty much permanently unable to fly for long periods of time; the other’s very temporary and completely undoable.” Turning back to Bill, I ask, “Can I trouble you for an example? One of the larger ones so I can demonstrate the temporary way?”

Bill replies, “Sure, lemme go net one real quick.” He grabs a net and heads to a pen. A brief moment later he returns, with a squirming net that’s emitting soft mewling sounds – the sounds of a terrified larger fairy. This one apparently has more of a backbone than the one we had melted to death earlier, and is showing the more normal fear behavior for that species.

I reach into my pocket and produce a medium-sized safety pin. “For the temporary method you need a safety pin, preferably one slightly oversized for the job so that it’ll take more strength to open it than a fairy has.”

I reach into the net and fetch the fairy. She’s mewling still and is obviously frightened, albeit not so much that she’s a teary crying mess like the smaller species tend to be when they’re scared.

“Hold her like this,” I note, swapping the fairy into my other hand in such a way that my middle, ring, and pinky fingers grab around her waist and legs while my index finger and thumb press her wings back toward each other. She squirms and squeals in an obviously upset manner, indicating her dislike of the handling.

“You’re hurting her!” chimed in the suddenly concerned daughter.

“Nah, she’s not being harmed. She’s just scared and doesn’t know what to do about being handled. She’s probably never been held by a human before. When a fairy’s hurt they tend to scream, like this.” With that I give the fairy a small pinch on one arm and she shrieks in response. This makes the daughter visibly upset and startles her mom, but conveys my point so I press on.

“Next, you’ll want to pierce the upper wing segment through a colored portion near the top and about a third of the way out from the base, but not too close to any of the veins. Just push it straight through.”

I punch the pin through one wing, while the teary-eyed fairy nurses the bright red pinch mark on her arm. “Now do the same with the other… Then, close the pin.” I do so, and then place the fairy on my open hand, and sure enough she reflexively tries briefly to fly off but with the pin fettering her wings she can only swing her wings a small fraction of their movement range and thus can’t generate any lift, and as a result she goes nowhere. The scared little thing starts to tremble and whines in fear at the discovery that I rendered her flightless, drawing her hands defensively up toward her neck. Her knees are about to knock together, and I’m just hoping at that point she doesn’t pee on my hand.

“Now you have a perfectly healthy fairy that cannot fly away. To undo this, simply hold her the same way and remove the pin. The holes in the wings won’t affect enough surface area to prevent her from flying, and you can easily make the holes permanent by leaving the pin in place for a couple weeks. If the holes are permanent you don’t have to worry about causing wing damage.”

They ooh and aah at the fairy standing on my hand, as said fairy looks at them with a terrified look on her face, babbling something about not wanting to be eaten. They’re leaning in to peer at her, so from her perspective she’s seeing giant faces from an exceptionally close distance. I can see why she’d be concerned that she might be some monster’s next snack.

“If you want to make her permanently flightless, the best thing I’ve found is to use an electronic circuitry coating spray to coat the backsides of each wing segment. It ruins their aerodynamics without ruining their appearance or causing undue harm to the fairy. One application usually grounds a fairy for six months to a year. You end up with a fairy that looks perfectly normal but can’t fly for quite a while.”

I turn back to Bill, and hand him the fairy with a polite thank-you. He takes her and heads back to the appropriate pen, chuckling at the simplicity and effectiveness of her restraints. A quick removal of the pin and she’s flying around inside the pen.


The pretty mom buys about five hundred dollars’ worth of fairy – a beautiful doll-sized one with the prettiest pink eyes I’ve seen in a fairy – and fairy stuff.

I’m definitely in the wrong business.

Random Musing
Crossing A Line

I was working with an example of the second-largest fairy species a while back. She was a pretty one, and at six inches tall a bit bigger than my normal research fare. She was moderately tanned, bright green eyed, and sported some really neat wing patterning, filled with vibrant hues of orange and blue. She was also a strong-willed one, fighting my initial efforts to put her into suspension when I first acquired her. My will, however, was stronger and I prevailed.

When I brought her around, her first response was to try to take flight. This was not to be, though, thanks to a safety pin through her wings near their tips. I’m not big on trying to chase down fairies I’ve already caught, as the little bastards are tricky.

When she realized she couldn’t escape me via normal fairy means, she seemed to grow incensed at me, glaring and growling. I thought her anger was amusing and laughed accordingly, like I always do under similar circumstances.

However, she didn’t behave like the fairies I usually deal with. She jumped at me. Literally took a running leap and landed on my shirt. She then tried to scramble up my shirt, presumably to attack my face. I’m impressed by her bravado.


Naturally, I can’t let this sort of thing go unanswered.

I pinned her to my chest and got a grip on her. She replied with more aggression, attacking my hand with a vicious bite.

Now I’m annoyed. I don’t let my cats bite me and I’ll be damned if a fairy’s gonna do it.

I flicked her left hand, which was gripping my finger, with my fingernail, instantly dislocating all four of her fingers and bending them upward almost ninety degrees from straight. This stopped the biting instantly and replaced it with a shriek as the pain hit her. She gently caressed her crushed hand and cried a long cry as I reached for the chip clip on a stand.

I clipped her wings into the chip clip and let her go, leaving her hanging by the wings – which didn’t bother her at all – and caressing that messed-up hand – which was bothering her a great deal.


As she sobbed and tried to bend her hideous-looking fingers back straight, screaming at the pain she caused herself in the effort, I headed to my supply closet to fetch some supplies.

I came back with a few small applicators, some cotton balls, some isopropyl alcohol, a bottle of medical adhesive, some of my fairy salve, and my hot knife. My idea of a hot knife’s not your normal heated blade – this one is a surgical scalpel blade mounted into a special holder that in turn mounts as a tip onto a cordless butane soldering iron. It’s sharp enough to operate with but at six or seven hundred degrees it cauterizes as it cuts. I let it warm up and ripped the clothes off the fairy, which made her worry and triggered her to ask me if I intended to harm her. Naturally I didn’t respond, as I was about to answer that question with deed and not word.

I swabbed her all over with the alcohol, drawing yelps of pain from bumping her hand, and goosebumps as it chilled her skin.

Once the hot knife warmed up enough, I grabber her left forearm and pulled her arm straight out from her body, applying enough force to put stress on her shoulder joint. She grimaced in response, and that grimace turned to a scream as I stabbed the hot knife into her arm across its width about an eighth of an inch from her shoulder, the sharp smell of roasting fairy meat indicating the heat’s function.

As she groaned in pain, with eyes closed tight and teeth clenched, I sliced her arm down to the bone and did a three-sixty around the entire arm. She was suddenly not concerned about those fingers anymore as I severed the nerves leading to them. With the arm then turning blue from the disconnection of blood supply to it, I set the hot knife down and placed my hand against her side, holding her as I pulled sharply on her arm.

With a loud pop the shoulder dislocated and the bone slid right out of the cauterized stump of arm tissue I had left. I then cut that stump into four points, folded them into the center, and used some medical adhesive to glue them together to seal what used to be the arm joint. I gave it a light coat of fairy salve, and as it numbed the amputation site she looked at me, tears streaking down her face.

I held her disconnected arm with its mangled hand up to her, and she gasped in horror. Then her lower lip quivered. I love to see a fairy do the lip-quiver thing – it tells me I’ve hit them unspeakably hard in a very sensitive area, figuratively speaking.

I reached for the hot knife and spun her round on the stand to give myself a better angle for her right arm. As it dawned on her what I was doing she started to sob and began to beg. As I grabbed her remaining arm she seemed to come unhinged trying to get free, tugging as best she could to yank free while trying to kick at my hand.

“Please, not my other arm! Oh no, please, no, please I beg you, please no, not that, NO, NOT THAT, OH NO – NGGH!”

With that I started to cut her other arm, and her begging and sobbing was replaced with groans and grunts through rigidly clenched jaws. A quick spiral cut to disconnect the tissues, a quick tug followed by a loud pop ripped the arm out, a few cuts shaped the wound, and some medical adhesive closed it. As the salve numbed the pain she looked at her shoulders, swollen but armless and, and started to sob. I left her without even a stub of arm to wave about since I packed the remaining bits of arm tissue flush with her body – when it heals it’ll be almost as though she never had arms.


I’m impressed by her resiliency. I’ve removed both of her arms with some rather aggressive and certainly very painful actions on my part, but she hasn’t screamed out much and hasn’t passed out the first time. Of course part of that is the hot knife’s ability to charbroil nerves to death as it slices through them. Hard for the pain to be blinding when the nerves get snipped cleanly.

As she sobs, I prepare one of my famous Lidocaine cotton balls, as I need to knock her out to carry out the next part of my impromptu plan. I press it over her face and it works its magic, as her still kicking legs slow and eventually go limp.


While she’s out, I do to both legs what I did to both arms, only taking care to reroute the large main arteries that supply them before cutting and cauterizing away everything but bone. When I’m done with my surgery I have an armless and legless fairy, a torso with a head and wings and that’s it. At the time I thought that she’s going to have a heart attack when I show her what she now looks like.

To add insult to injury, since this species sports four dragonfly-style wings instead of butterfly or moth style wings, I coated the outside back halves of two of her wings with the conformal coating spray, and the inside back halves of the other two, in a diagonal pattern. I also made a note to carefully avoid covering the same amount of area on each wing. This allows them to generate lift, but will make them do it inconsistently, and make it pretty close to impossible for her to fly with any sort of control. As an added bonus, since she didn’t have long extremities to counterbalance the inconsistent lift from her wings the control loss will be greatly exaggerated.

I placed her back on the stand and position the Lidocaine ball so that she’d continue to breathe its intoxicating scent, with the result that it kept her knocked out.


The next day I removed the cotton ball and tended to her already healing surgeries. She started to come around a few hours after that, and when I sat down at my desk to play with her a bit she was moaning from and complaining audibly to herself about the post-anesthesia headache.

She looked up at me, still moaning, and a look of fear started to fight its way past the look of hurting. I grabbed a mirror and showed her what she looked like, and the fear was replaced with shock and sadness as I tilted it to show her where her legs used to be.

Her lower lip quivered, and then she launched into a deep, loud, rear your head back and let it all out cry. Beautiful.

After about a minute of her bawling, I pressed on the side of the chip clip holding her up and she abruptly fell to the desk. It was only about a four-inch drop but it’d be about the same as a four-foot drop to me, and with no arms or legs with which to catch herself she plopped to the ground in a really un-fairy-like manner. Adding injury to the injuries suffered to that point, she landed squarely on her pelvic ridge at the part humans occasionally call the “taint,” concentrating the impact energy onto the thin but sensitive skin between labia and anus. She yelped from that and toppled over onto her back, landing face-up on top of her wings.

She lay there briefly, and then tried to get up. Of course with no arms or legs she failed, and upon realizing per predicament she launched into the mewling thing her species does when it’s scared. Her efforts only resulted in lifting her head.

Since I was doing some mindless Internet stuff at the time, I toyed with her, sliding and spinning her idly on my desk like a paperweight with one hand while checking my E-mail with the other. She wasn’t appreciative of this, I can assure you, eventually screaming for me to stop as I spun her like a top once. This made me look down at her, staring seriously for a moment and then laughing, and that drew another round of sobbing from her, with whimpers punctuating the sobbing and her rolling her head from side to side since she couldn’t wipe away the tears.

It was then that she realized her wings were free. She’d been so distracted up to that point by the horror of being limbless that it hadn’t occurred to her that I had detached the safety pin from her wingtips.

She fluttered them, found they were unrestrained, and then kicked up a strong flapping effort that sent her sliding along my desk like a hovercraft. She eventually caught enough air under one to upright herself and tried to take off in earnest. It was then that she simultaneously did two things: discover how I’d booby-trapped her wings, and make me laugh my ass off. As she tried to fly away she continuously did sickeningly fast angle changes in all three axes, shouting with surprise as she tumbled every which way in midair a couple inches above my desktop. She was generating enough lift to fly, but couldn’t control her flight at all, as her wings were generating lift at variably oblique angles to what she was trying to have them do. After about ten seconds of nauseating tumbling coupled with shouts and screams, she plowed headfirst into my desk, rolling to a halt face down.

She didn’t move for a moment, which made me wonder if she’d broken her neck – a really easy thing for fairies to do in crash landings since their spines are very small. I knew she was in decent shape when I heard a low whine come from her. She cried for a good ten minutes straight, and I suspect only a tiny fraction of that was from the pain of her crash.

That was the funniest thing I had seen in a very long time. Thankfully I had my desktop camera set to record when she did it, and the researchers that got the movie file in their mailboxes have largely shared my sentiments.


So, I created a limbless, quadruple amputee fairy that can fly perfectly well but cannot control her flight at all. I need to find a use for her I think.

Random Musing
Fairy Pet

I’d given my business card to the attractive mom I’d met in the fairy pet store, and a week or so later she called me about a conversation she had with her daughter that left her somewhat confused. She was aware that fairies are “smart,” but had no idea until after acquiring one and watching how she behaved that fairies are actually intelligent, sapient, self-aware beings in microminiature.

What had confused her was a conversation with her daughter about the fairy, in which the little girl mentioned that the fairy told her she loved her. Imaginary friends are a staple of childhood but since this particular girl apparently didn’t ever do the imaginary friend thing mom thought that was odd, and once actually overheard the fairy speaking to her daughter. Of course the fairy shut up when she knew mom was around but was apparently a regular chatterbox when in the company of the girl only.

Our conversation regarding this started with her description of the event. She finally got to the question that I could tell was haunting her. I supposed at the time that she probably wasn’t entirely sure she heard the fairy speak.

“Can fairies actually talk?”

“Yes, they can. They have their own language, and like human children fairies can pick up other languages given enough exposure to them. Your daughter could learn fairyspeak or try to teach her English, or both, and they could then converse.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No ma’am. I’ve worked with several that spoke English quite well, and I can speak fairyspeak fluently.”

“I wonder what she’s saying to Amber…” I could tell she wasn’t asking me so much as asking herself, the protective instinct of motherhood kicking in.

“Could you hear enough of what the fairy was saying to recognize it if you heard it?”

“I don’t know, maybe, it was really faint.”

“I’ll make a few sounds that are words in fairyspeak. Stop me if you recognize one.” With that I rattled off a few individual words that a fairy in her position is likely to make.

Mom recognized the sound of fairyspeak for “please.”

I said “please let me go” in fairyspeak. Mom gasped audibly over the phone, adding, “That’s it!”

“She was asking your daughter to release her. That phrase translates to ‘please let me go’.”

Mom laughed. “Amber thinks it means ’I love you’.”

“I have an idea. Does the phone you’re using have a speakerphone function? If so I can give the fairy and your daughter some instructions on communicating with each other.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful. She’s up in her room right now,” she adds, and I could tell by subtle changes in her breathing and the background noise her phone is transmitting that she was already on the move.

Several seconds later I heard “Amber, honey, is your little friend safe for me to come in?” followed by a muffled “yeah, her wings are pinned.”

“Ma’am?”

“Yes”

“Set the phone to speaker and place it near the fairy and I’ll see if I can get a conversation going.”

Mom sat on her daughter’s bed – I heard the telltale creaking noises of a box spring taking some weight – and after a sharp click the noises picked up on the phone took on a more open air. I next heard mom tell her daughter to hold the phone close to the fairy.

I asked, “Is the fairy near the phone?” As I did Amber was holding the phone near the wing-pinned fairy, with a slightly puzzled look on her face regarding how weird the idea was of someone wanting to talk to a pet over the phone, according to what mom told me later about the whole conversation.

I heard mom reply in the affirmative, so I said “hello?” in fairyspeak.

According to Mom, the fairy looked at the phone in utter shock before replying with a feeble “hello?” of her own.

In fairyspeak, I started with “This device is called a ‘phone’. It allows humans to talk to each other over great distances. Listen to one end, speak to the other.”

I next heard a louder but still diminutive “please—”

I cut her off. “They will not release you, so don’t bother asking.”

“B-but they’ll eat me!”

“Humans don’t generally eat fairies, although humans can and some do. The mother actually purchased you as a pet for the youngling.”

“I am not a pet!”

“To larger creatures, especially predators, you are either amusement or food. Which would you prefer?”

Mom told me later that the fairy got a really sad look on her face at this point in the conversation. I also heard her sniffle once. As I’d said before in my earlier writings, I’m very good at making fairies cry.

“The mother is afraid because she knows you speak to her child. She wishes to know what you are saying.”

“But I – I mean no harm! I only want to be released so I can return to my village!”

“Odds are your entire village was also captured, so you have no village to return to.”

She offered no response to this little reality check, so I continued. “The youngling can kill you without any effort so you actually cannot do any harm, but that is not the point. She seeks to befriend you as a favored pet. If you will cooperate with this effort I shall teach them how to speak with you in your language, and if you behave yourself correctly the youngling may teach you her language.”

“Then I can ask her to release me!”

“Yes, although they may choose to not do so. Again, to them you are a pet. How comfortable and long your life as a pet is will be determined by your actions. Anger them and they may treat you poorly, but at least try to be cooperative and they may lavish you with great food, protect you from harm, and give you a lot of attention.”

The fairy said nothing for a moment, apparently mulling this over in her tiny little mind.

“What must I do?”

“First, consider the humans to be your protectors, not your owners. If you are endearing to them they will treat you well. If you act against them, and especially against the youngling, you will doom yourself.”

“I understand.” Mom said later she was somewhat sad through the conversation but became more morose at this point in the conversation.

“Second, make the best of your situation. As long as you are vibrant and active the youngling will seek to make you happy as best she can. She may eventually even release you, but there are no guarantees of that. If you are constantly sad they will not wish to keep you, and this would place you in great peril.”

“What would they do to me?”

“You are with good humans. Bad humans would kill you, and really bad humans would torture you to death. These being good humans, though, they would probably return you to the place you were in before.”

“Oh no! Not that evil place!”

“Choose wisely then. Your fate is in your hands as much as theirs. As you act, they will react.”

She said nothing, and mom reported that she looked up at the daughter with the most pitiful sad eyes and drew an “awww, she’s sad!” from her.

“What is your name?”

“Isabella.”

I switched back to English. “Amber, please turn off speaker and talk to me.”

I heard a click and a young voice, which sounded strongly like her mother, replied with “she’s sad.”

“I know, honey. I’ll tell you how to say ‘please be my friend’ in her language. Say it to her and she should be less sad.”

“Okay.”

I then said, “please be my friend” in fairyspeak and heard Amber recite it to her little pet, doing surprisingly well for a first effort at a new language.

“She’s smiling!” beamed Amber.

“Yes. I’ll send your mother some websites on fairy language so you and she can both learn how to talk with her. Once you know that you can teach her English if you want.”

“I’ll be able to talk to her? Yay!” I hear mom chuckle approvingly in the background.

“By the way, what she was saying was ‘please let me go’. ‘I love you’ in her language sounds like this.” I added the fairyspeak equivalent and she recited that as well, again doing a pretty good job. I suspect she’ll pick up fairyspeak pretty quickly.

“Awww, she’s blushing.” The moment was nauseatingly sweet, even over the phone. I recall making silent gagging motions in response.

“By the way, her name is Isabella.”

“Isabella? That’s such a beautiful name!”

“Indeed. Can I speak with your mother again?”

“Sure! Mom, he wants to talk to you.”

Mom gets the phone back. “What was that you had Amber say?”

“The first phrase was ‘please be my friend’, and the second was ‘I love you’. Those should have conveyed what I told the fairy.”

“And that was?”

“I told her she was a pet, and how well she would be treated as a pet would depend directly on how well she acclimated to being a pet. She’s willing to give it a go, but your daughter will also need to keep her intellectually stimulated or she’ll get depressed, turn sick, and die.”

“Intellectually stimulated? Just how smart are fairies anyway?”

“In most intelligence tests fairies place on par with six to eight year old humans. Fairies are so popular in mythology because their intellects give them a childlike air.”

The ramifications of this ran through mom’s head in a hurry.

“Oh my God they’re selling intelligent beings as pets?”

“Horses are roughly on par with eighteen-month-old humans, and dolphins are intelligent enough to be the only other animal aside from humans that has sex for fun.”

Mom was silent for a moment, finally responding with “point taken.”

“Anyway, Amber learning fairyspeak and teaching her fairy English will keep them both busy.”

“How do I get information on fairyspeak?”

“If you have an E-mail address I can send you a bunch of website links for enough info to teach Amber conversational levels of fairyspeak. I also think you’d find it an excellent source of quality time with Amber if you also learned fairyspeak along with her. Your daughter did an excellent job repeating the fairyspeak I told her.”

Mom agreed to this and rattled off an E-mail address. I fired off a message containing a list of about fifty websites while on the phone with mom, with enough resources to make them both fairyspeak experts if they want to devote the effort to it.


We talked for another few minutes about the fairy’s reactions and behavior before ending the call. Shame that she was married – I had noted a wedding ring when I’d met her in the fairy store – as I’d definitely date her if given the opportunity. The mom, that is, not the fairy, you pervert.

Oh well, there are other fish in the sea.

Random Musing
Road Trip

After my rather bizarre conversations with the State Department, I finally managed to make the trip to Brazil as a guest slash emissary. Sure enough, their Foreign Ministry did indeed grant me an embassy visa and diplomatic immunity. I am still totally amazed by this.

In fact, when I got my updated passport it came with a stack of papers about the size of a small city’s phone book. I got a new passport with a black cover instead of the blue cover my old one sported, and this new one also had several extra pages in it I’d not had before. The package also included a diplomatic visa with immunity waiver attached and signed by several apparently important people in Brazil’s government, a list of diplomatic dos and don’ts from the State Department, and a bunch of information on who I’d be working with during my stay. Also included was a somewhat scary cheat sheet containing a list of phone numbers and names for back-channel contacts in the State Department and Brazilian Foreign Ministry, should there be an “incident.”

Anyway, it took me a solid day of airtime alone to get to Brazil, courtesy of a game of airport hopscotch. It took another couple hours to get to where a puddle jumper plane would haul me into the jungle. From there it was yet another four hours of annoyingly uncomfortable road travel via bus into the deepest thickest jungle I’ve ever seen. It was worth it though. Nothing I’ve seen on teevee does the Amazon rainforest justice – it’s one of those “things I must do before I die” things. Yeah, it’s that impressive.

And the bugs…Good Lord the bugs are insane. I’d grown rapidly accustomed to having a silk handkerchief tied across my face to keep the swarms out of my nose and mouth and I’d only been here about an hour by that time. I’ve seen some pretty large clouds of insects but the little biting flies and whatnot would drive me to drink if I had to endure them defenseless.


So, three days of travel time saw me to a large tent city a few miles from a tiny logging village that became science central when the fairy city was discovered. When I arrived, the team leader for the research group I’d been E-mailing for weeks greeted me, and they treated me like I was God’s gift to fairyhood or something.

The person in charge of the research team is Bruce Middleton, a fellow I’d met during a tour of Florida State University. At the time he was working up the gumption to jump to a Master’s program and was leaning toward biology when the fairy discovery shook the academic world. He went hardcore in that direction and now finds himself acting as an interspecies liaison with a newly discovered species family, which should make his Master’s thesis pretty damned easy to write. We had been keeping regular contact via E-mail, with me providing digested info for him from fairy research going on elsewhere in the world, and had been implementing my medical suggestions to marvelous effect. He was also instrumental in my getting the nod for this gig, I had earlier discovered.

Eventually our conversation turned to the business at hand, though, after the preliminary first time face-to-face was handled.

“So, where’s this city?” I asked.

He turned to his left and looked out into a sea of green so thick I couldn’t see sunlight through it. He pointed, adding, “It’s actually about a quarter-mile that way. It’s up in the canopy through, so studying the city’s pretty tricky. I’ve already learned a great deal of respect for the idea of making sure climbing harnesses are positioned to avoid certain body parts.”

I laughed. “More than I wanted to know, man.”

“You’re gonna love this. The city’s called D’reshe.”

I stared at him harshly for a moment. “They called their city ‘leafy’?”

He laughed, waved his arms at the majestic rainforest beyond, and replied, “Well, it is leafy.”

I chuckled. “It’s a damned rainforest, of course it’s leafy. Oh well, I guess it makes more sense than calling it ‘sandy’.”

I then heard the telltale buzzing of fairy wings, and turned to face a small army of about a dozen six-inch-tall fairies. They were literally a small army, in that they were armed with tiny polearms and swords, and were wearing what looked like a medieval plate-mail styled armor. How they could fly with all that gear was a question I hoped I’d get to find an answer to.

Bruce introduced the leader of the band as Ardus, the chief of the city’s military. The rest of the group was his personal guard and a few military advisors.

When Bruce told the diminutive but strongly built and gruff-looking army fairy who I was, his entire demeanor changed. “You are the creator of the medicines?”

“Yes, he is,” added Bruce.

With that the head of the fairy military bowed respectfully, and his cohorts did likewise. “Your medicines have saved many of our people, including some of my own family. We are in your debt.”

I bowed briefly in reply. “Glad I could be of assistance.”

A tiny throat clearing got Ardus’ attention. He looked back toward another small group of four taller fairies that was winging its way to us, and then turned and bellowed, “May I present Her Honor Alahna, Chancellor of the High Council of D’reshe.”

He and his groupies bowed to the new arrival and her groupies, and Bruce bowed as well so I joined in. I chuckled slightly, trying to stifle it.

The leader of the second group, an impressively colored eight-inch-tall fairy with an aged face and green eyes that delivered a piercing but intelligent gaze, noted my not very well suppressed chuckle. “Something amuses you?”

“My apologies, ma’am. It’s just a strange mental picture to see creatures as disproportionately sized bowing to each other.”

At first my response in fairyspeak seemed to startle her. Then she chuckled as well, which showed me she at least had a sense of humor. “Yes, I can imagine.”

Ardus told Alahna who I was, and that little news tidbit made her visibly excited. “So you are the human I’ve heard so much about.” She glanced at Bruce.

I replied with “all good, I hope.”

“Indeed. Your work on fairy physiology has brought about profound changes in our own understanding of ourselves.”

She hovered a little closer to me, and lowered her volume, before continuing. “One thing troubles me, however.”

“And that is?”

“How exactly does one gain such understanding?”

Talk about a conversation going south in a hurry. Oh well, the truth might be harsh but it is what it is. I reply, “Unpleasantly.”

“Unpleasantly? I don’t follow.”

“The only way to determine things like physical limitations is experimentally. For example, to discover the strength of bone one has to exert force on a bone until it breaks. Other limitations such as temperature and pressure limits have to be discovered through their own forms of destructive testing.”

“So your understanding of us came at a cost.”

“You could say that. However, if a few die saving many, although it isn’t good for the few, the many benefit a great deal.”

“Indeed. If I might ask, how many would ‘a few’ be?”

“From my own research?”

“Yes.”

Without blinking and while staring her right in her twinkling, tiny eyes, I replied, “Two hundred thirty seven.”

She stared at me for a moment, and the demeanors of the others that were close enough to hear the conversation was visibly shifted toward uncomfortable. Basically I just told the leader of a massive fairy city – a city with a standing army that could theoretically take down a human, with the leader of that army being about six feet away – that I killed over two hundred of her kinfolk. I was pondering how best to make a run for a vehicle and consult that cheat sheet to arrange a quick exit from the country, should there be an “incident.”

“Yet your discoveries from these two hundred thirty-seven have saved tens of thousands of us here.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Please tell me, are humans so cold with regard to their research?”

“Basically, yes. Science can only be done correctly if it’s done impassively. And we humans have experimented, sometimes destructively, on our own kind for centuries. Some things simply can’t be learned otherwise.”

She thought about this for an uncomfortably long moment. “I suppose not.”

She looked around at her fellow fairies and then back to me. “Come, please, and let me show you the grandeur of our city.”

With that, we all headed to some of the most amazing rainforest Earth has to offer.

Random Musing
Bump And Grind

I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with a use for the fairy that tried to attack me and ended up losing her arms and legs in the aftermath. Thus far she’s served as an amusing thing to bat around when doing things that don’t involve using my hands a lot. Sort of a living stress ball, only I don’t want to crush her to death like I would if I were to squeeze her like I do a stress ball.

She can’t do much on her own and as a result I keep her in a small enclosure with a lot of soft but replaceable floor covering. After all, fairies are used to urinating and defecating during flight, and flight is something she can’t do with any control whatsoever. So, without that, she pretty much has to go whenever she has to go wherever she happens to be at the time. As a result of this she’s pretty often in need of cleaning, as is her pen. I keep her well fed and well cared for, and her surgeries have healed up to light scars as a result. As I had hoped, it doesn’t look like she ever had limbs.

She’s perpetually pissed off at me though, as aside from moving her around and doing some cleaning I usually get her out just to bat her around idly on my desk and she’s exceptionally powerless to do a damn thing about it. Except complain. That she can definitely do, and all the more so since I once told her in fairyspeak to shut up and thus spilled the beans that I can understand what she’s saying.

She even cussed me out once, firing off a stream of profanity that’d make R. Lee Ermey portraying that gruff drill sergeant proud. I found it amusing, of course, and she bitched about my laughing at her for a solid five minutes. Maybe I should give her a tracheotomy and shut her up a bit more forcefully slash permanently for a while.


I think I’ve figured out a use for her, though, and it comes courtesy of one particular storekeeper I met in Atlanta a while back.

Bill Vaughn had commented to me that he wished he could breed fairies in captivity, and thus far no researcher has reported success in that endeavor. The reason is fairly simple: fairies have sex for reproduction, not for pleasure, even though the act is definitely pleasurable to them. Fairy females don’t have a menstrual cycle like human females do – when a female has sex she can become pregnant immediately. As a result they only have sex when they desire to have offspring, and outside that neither gender has a sex drive. They’ll do things like flirt with each other, but that’s as far as it goes.

And an unhappy fairy won’t be “in the mood” at all.

Captive fairies are generally terrified, and often injured during capture or as a result of captivity. This wrecks any remaining chances of a pair of them deciding to get their swerve on even in the best of captive situations, like Bill’s amazing setup.


Clearly this would require moderating their behavior to put them “in the mood” regardless of their actual mood.

Fortunately I might just have a solution to that little problem, courtesy of a researcher in Britain that sent me a gift last year. The gift was a bottle of chemicals that turned out to be a potent fairy aphrodisiac. The stuff sent fairy sex drives into orbit in both my and others’ testing, so much so that fairies would literally kill themselves trying to have sex with anything that would fit onto or into the relevant parts of their anatomies while under its influence. To an extent fairies stimulated by the stuff were actually turned on even more by pain, and had to be pretty badly hurt for the pain to override the effects of the liquid.

This might well prove useful. So, I decided to “thaw” a male of the same species as my limbless little cutie-pie to give the stuff a little try. He gets a layer of anti-flight coating to the wings to keep him grounded.


As I was working on preparations for this particular experiment, she gave me a nasty bite as I removed her for cleaning. The biting thing pisses me off, actually, so I used some of my medical adhesive to glue her mouth partially shut by gluing the centers of her upper and lower lips together. She could still breathe through her nose and the corners of her mouth, but talking was a great deal harder for her, and biting became impossible. With a laugh I wondered if the male would be disappointed in her new inability to perform fellatio on him.

So, I start things off for this experiment by giving her a double dose of the fairy mojo inducer, by swabbing some into her mouth through the corners and then giving her a direct dose to the genitalia by way of a cotton swab dipped in the liquid. At first she squirms uncomfortably from the intrusion of the swab’s tip into her reproductive tract, but as the aphrodisiac starts to work its way into her brain she starts moaning softly and looks upset that I removed the swab from inside her.

With her now in its embrace I turn my attention to the male.

He also gets a mouthful of the liquid, and I swab his genitals with it as well. Strangely, it takes longer to start working on him than it did her, in part because of the differences in blood flow to reproductive organs. However, his later arousal means he’ll be aroused longer.

When I place him into the container with her she’s moaning and writhing about from the effects of the aphrodisiac, but he’s still somewhat normal and looks at her in shock. Fairies don’t have much medical expertise and losing a limb is generally a fatal injury, so seeing a healthy fairy with no limbs is scarily bewildering to him. Still, he can also see she’s turned on in a big way, and without hands she cannot do anything to compensate for her desire to placate her sex drive.

She looks at him, pleadingly, and moans softly. At about that time the stuff starts to work on him and he flushes a bright red.

I dose them both again with the stuff, and as I hold him I can feel his body temperature rising. He also starts to sport an erection as I swab his genitals again, which tells me he’s finally about ready to do his part.


He stands there, staring at her, watching her writhe and moan and grimace as the desire for sex runs rampant through her body and a simple thought burns across her mind. He slowly walks toward her, blushing and sporting an erection that amusingly tents his shorts. She sees him and through her partially glued shut mouth gets out a “please… help... me…”

He kneels next to her and strokes her already sweat-matted hair, the light brushing nearly making her orgasm from the overstimulation brought on by the aphrodisiac. She looks at him then stares longingly at the bulge hidden by his shorts, and as the stuff rages through his biology as well as hers he stands up and drops his shorts to reveal his own reproductive means. She’s almost hungrily looking at it, and as if understanding what that all was supposed to mean he gently lays down over and spreads himself across her. With a sudden desperate cry from her, he inserts tab A into slot B.

They hump and moan and writhe and arch and make all sorts of mildly amusing noises for three minutes straight, with both climaxing several times. That’s one thing fairy males can do that humans usually can’t – achieve multiple orgasms in series. Then, as they wind down and the effect of the aphrodisiac begins to wane, he rolls off her to her side and lay there spread-eagled, both of them now drenched in sweat and panting from their near-exhaustion. I reach in at this point with the solvent for the adhesive gluing her mouth shut, as it’s done its part – she’s too worn out to speak anyway.

I place some food and water into the small enclosure, and after he recovers his composure he clothes himself and feeds her some of the food and water, cradling her on his lap like a child.

It’ll take about a week to know whether she’s pregnant. If she is, I’ll thaw out a female to help her tend to the child, as she won’t be able to do so by herself.

Random Musing
The Fairy Store – Part Three

It’s been about a month since my last business trip to Atlanta, and since I was in the area anyway I dropped by to see Bill and Gladys. When I arrived I noticed their operation had grown a bit – there were more pens and quite a few more fairies, including a massive and amazingly beautiful exhibit that had all four of his stocked species in it. What’s even more interesting is that he had also added clear tubes along the ceilings to connect the enclosures to the exhibit, so that the fairies could come and go between the species-specific enclosures and the larger area open to all species. Finally, I saw males and females both on the wing, so apparently he’d stopped sorting them by gender.

They’d also improved their information displays, and a few kiosks sported computers with the latest news on fairy care, which had started to become its own thing lately.

It was almost like stepping into a fairy zoo. I was impressed, yet again.

I got the attention of a new employee and asked her to tell Bill and/or Gladys that so-and-so was in the store, adding that they’d know precisely whom that was. Sure enough, Bill practically exploded out of the back of the store, calling my name out loud like I was a long-lost war buddy or something.

As we shook hands, I noted, “Damn, Bill, you’ve been busy!”

“Yes sir, I nearly tripled my inventory, and built the new displays.”

“That big one is incredible!”

“I started working on that one a week after you left. I opened it up to the fairies only a few days ago, but they already love it.”

“I can imagine.”

“But, I have a problem.”

“Which is?”

“I think they’re planning a break-out.”

“Aw, man, you got a leader didn’t you?”

“Yep, a middle-aged male. He’s organizing them all and they’re systematically probing the pens to see if they can force anything open.”

“Hmm, I had something similar happen once.”

“What’s the fix for that?”

“Only one that I know of, and that’s to crush the organization by brutally killing the leader in front of the potential participants.”

Bill was taken aback. “What? Why?”

“Simple. If you kill the leader you’ll remove the organizer, but by killing him in a spectacular manner the others will associate his grisly death with what he was trying to organize. That prevents others from treating the leader as a martyr and resuming their efforts, and this is what breaks up the organization once and for all. Trust me, it sounds weird but it plays to fairy thought processes.”

“I dunno, man, I don’t think I can do that to one of my cuties.”

“Well, if you want, I can drop by here after-hours and do the dirty work for you. We can end the little uprising before it can become a problem.”

“What time would be best?”

“Usually about two in the morning. You’ll want to do anything intended to be maximally disconcerting when fairies are normally asleep. Waking them up for it compounds the effect. We’ll also need to herd them into the main pen here so they can all be present for the show.”

“Oh, I see. I tell you what, meet me here at two and I’ll let you in. I can use a blower to chase ‘em into the main display and close off the pens. That’ll trap ‘em in the main.”

“Also, I’ll need to get inside the main pen with them. They need to see me up close and in person.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? They’re small, sure, but there’s nearly fifteen hundred of ‘em now.”

“There are ways to play to fairy thought processes to prevent attacks, too.”

“Ah.”

We spent about an hour hatching the plan on how to stop the flutter insurrection, and Bill showed me around. Yep, it’s definitely a more impressive operation than before.


Two in the morning sees me sneaking into the main fairy habitat, which is big enough for me to stretch out in without touching the sides. I move quietly, so as to not wake up everyone in the pens until we’re ready.

Bill had already located and captured the ringleader of the opposition, a tall species male who looked like a thirty-five-year-old human might if given a set of wings. He was a smart one by fairy standards, and quite articulate as well although he didn’t speak more than a few words of English. Bill had netted him and kept him in a separate pen in the back, and once I was inside the pen he handed me a sealed jar of fairy before closing the access hatch.

Bill whispered out from the darkness, “Are you ready?”

“Yep, let’s wake ‘em up.”

Suddenly all of the lights came on, including the fluorescents. And with the light came horrendous crashing noises as Bill traipsed through the store slamming two metal trashcan lids together and shouting “Wakey wakey! Time to get up!”

As he made a ruckus the fairies woke with a start and instinctively took to flight to escape. The pens were a sea of flapping iridescent wings and terrified fairies, and a few seconds later they started to pour into the main enclosure area through the tube openings near its ceiling. As they poured in, I made a series of specific noises that sounded like a certain species of owl that fairies are scared to death of, and that drove them to the trees lining the back walls of the enclosure.

In the meantime, Bill had armed himself with a small electric leaf blower and was blowing the pens clear of fairies, sending them tumbling down the ductwork to the main enclosure. As he emptied each he closed off a ball valve in the duct to it, trapping fairies out of that pen.

It took about ten minutes to force the entire fairy population into the arena for the upcoming show, and by the time he came to the enclosure to tell me he was done I had about fifteen hundred scared, but rapidly becoming annoyed, fairies.

Time to start the show before someone tries something stupid, I think.

I turn to Bill. “You might not want to watch this part.”

He looks at me grimly, and disappears into a dark part of the store.

I turn back to the crowd and call out in fairyspeak, “We know of your plans to fight us. Those plans end now. Fight us and you shall die.”

And with that, I hold up the jar to show them the ringleader. A few of his cohorts fly up to help, and I slap them out of the air with a small flyswatter I had smuggled in, sending them careening and then crashing painfully into the scenery.

I unscrew the lid and remove the fairy, and as I do he calls out, “Do what you will to me, but you cannot contain us indefinitely!”

“Oh, but we can!”

He calls out to the others, “Brothers! Sisters! No matter—“ His comment is interrupted by a loud snapping sound as I grab his right arm and break it with a quick pinch of my fingers and thumb. He suddenly screams a scream that startles many of the fairies watching. I switch my grip on him and force his wings back into a pinned position, and then simply grab one and rip it off. Fairies visibly grimace and he screams again, going stiff as the pain of the violent wing removal rips through his upper body.

I look at the crowd of fairies, glaring I hope in an intimidating and fearsome manner, and systematically rip off his other three wings, pausing between each for dramatic effect. Each rip and subsequent scream makes the crowd collectively flinch and grimace and squirm uncomfortably.

“The price to be paid for resistance is death! But not simply death, but painful, agonizing, slow death!” I then break his other arm, the snap echoing off the walls outside the enclosure and his scream making some of the fairies turn away.

I hold him up by his broken arms. I grab his legs and stretch him taut, making him scream in a bloodcurdling manner, and then hold him in front of my face.

I shout, “Death by being eaten!” I open my mouth wide, and this makes a number of fairies gasp.

He shrieks as I bite into his side, and as my teeth slice through his tissues his blood gushes all over my face. I see a few fairies turn visibly ill and one throws up.


A quick explanation is in order about fairies and their usefulness to humans as food. Since fairies feed on nectars, pollens, fruits, and honey when they can get it safely, their blood and tissues have a lot of sugar in them. I mean a LOT of sugar. To a human fairy blood is strongly and almost nauseatingly sweet, and if the fairy feeds on specific fruits or plant pollens you can taste what kinds. A fairy that eats a lot of strawberries, for example, has blood that tastes like strawberry punch. Fairy blood also contains several fermentation byproducts, and those can cause hallucinations, sensory stimulation, sexual stimulation, and other drug-like effects in humans. Their muscles resemble gelatin candies in both flavor and texture, and bones taste remarkably like sweetened crackers. For these reasons some folks do eat them.


I have to fight the effects of the nuances of fairy blood on my own neurochemistry, but manage to keep control as I gnaw through his torso, ribs and spine breaking under the pressure of my jaws. I then twist my head sharply and rip a chunk right out of his side, almost biting him in two. I chew, slowly and deliberately while trying to avoid swallowing the sweet, and in the case of this particular fairy, floral, blood. I crush and grind his bones and tissues into a sweet paste, and then with a “ptoo!” sound hock a large lump of pulverized fairy right at the largest mass of now mostly trembling and sickened fairies. The grotesque and still warm spitwad knocks right into several, blasting them off the tree branch upon which they’re perched.

The leader of the insurrection manages to make a feeble moan, so I tug him sharply, ripping him in half along the great furrow I’d bitten into him. He subsequently expires with a sad gurgle.

I bite off his head next, plucking it from his upper body like a grape from its vine. I spit it out into my hand, and then place it on the floor of the enclosure, facing the crowd of fairies. I then throw the two halves into the crowd, bowling over a few dozen fairies and spreading the leader’s blood about the enclosure.

None of them are speaking, and practically all of them are scared to death. I entered their world and crushed their spirits with a single act, and now they are genuinely afraid that any one of them could be next. Perfect.

“Listen to me, and heed my words. I have only killed one this day. Attempt another rebellion and I shall eat every tenth one of you. Males, females, young, old, one of every ten will pay. If any one of you rebels, you all rebel, and you will all pay the price.”

And with that I suddenly lunge into the crowd and snatch a double handful of fairies at random, and with a quick motion I throw them into the rest of the crowd before they can respond enough to scatter. This injures about twenty of them to varying degrees, none severely, but further adds to the carnage effect on their miniscule minds by adding a random chaotic element to the situation.


I turn back. “Bill, cut out the lights please!”

With a few loud clicks, everything goes dark. I produce a pocket LED flashlight that I know works on a wavelength that fairies cannot see but humans can, and with it I free myself from the enclosure.


I find Bill, who looks pretty shaken by what I had just done, and drag him to the back where I could clean up and talk to him without being seen and heard by the fairies, many of whom were by now cuddling into small tight groups for solace against the evil they’d just witnessed. None of them were likely to sleep tonight.

Bill shows me to a bathroom in the back and I clean up, wiping the sickly sweet blood off my face. When I see myself in the mirror I look like an extra from a zombie flick minus the zombie part, with blood trailing from my mouth and speckling my clothes and hands and even my hair.

When I finish cleaning up I meet up with Bill. “I don’t think you’re going to have trouble with them for a while.”

“Damn. Man, that was just too much. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Sometimes you have to do evil to do good. I killed one, but probably saved the rest by keeping them from doing something stupid.”

Bill stares at me, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Yeah, maybe, but that was twisted.”

“That would be the point. Since these little critters work on a roughly eight-year-old human’s level of thinking it takes something dramatic to force them to behave in a specific manner. Ever tried to coax a kid that age into doing something they didn’t want to do?”

“Yep, three times.”

“Sometimes it takes a little less finesse to get the job done.”

“Maybe, but I never had to rip one of my kids in half to get ‘em to behave.”

“For a fairy it takes that much, and sometimes more, to impress upon their microbrains what you want and how serious you are about it.”

“Still, that was fucked up, man.”

I thought about it for a moment. Yep, that would be a fair assessment. Like I said before, the truth is what it is.


I don’t think Bill thinks of me in the same way since then, although we still keep in touch. I think I showed him something he wasn’t expecting about the potential for ruthless cold brutality possessed by some of his fellow humans.

Epilogue
Leaving Loose Ends Untied

As of this writing, my limb-free cutie-pie is about ten days into her forty-five day pregnancy, and is definitely showing. I defrosted a fairly young female to help her tend to the baby when it’s born, and the male has been by her side constantly, apparently knowing he’s the father and being willing to act the part.

My trip to Brazil would need its own musings to cover, so I’ll leave that for its own writing. Believe me, that was a weird month. I learned quite a bit though, but you’ll just have to wait for the details.

I told Bill that I might be onto a means to breed fairies in captivity, and he sounded thrilled. He also let me know that the fairies are remarkably well behaved since my little show, but nevertheless felt he had to express his disapproval with my method of getting them to behave. He was also very unhappy about the presents I had left in his beautiful enclosure. He didn’t tell Gladys about it, fearing she would have kittens and then fly here to strangle me barehanded. So, I apparently harmed a potential friendship with my aggression. I’ll have to make it up to them somehow.

I also talked to the researcher in Britain. He’s working on a cookbook using fairies as one of the ingredients. Last I heard, he was making cakes using their blood as the mixing agent. His favorite method involves cutting a fairy’s throat and at least one additional major artery, and letting the fairy bleed out with another fairy right there to watch helplessly. Says the additional fairy hormones the terror of watching a fellow fairy bleed to death produces helps the flavor later. I’m not sure if I want to try his recipes myself. Amusingly enough Britain has a food item called a “fairy cake,” which is what Americans call a “cupcake,” so his version will be infinitely more literal.



Random Musings
The End

Now I'm hungry for fairy cake...

Is this "fairy Cake" related at all to the Fairy Cake in /g/, I wonder??
Heh

As always, excellent my friend. I really, really enjoy your work- your world is so believable!

Encore, encore!

>>13

I'm wondering the same thing

Also, OP, your shit remains delightfully creepy. Please, keep up the good work.

Me likey, ehuhh niceee!
Though you may want to drop the whole copyright thing, it screams attention whore. Really, (3) get over yourself.

By the way, may I ask you what illustrations in particular gave you inspiration for this story?

Thanks for the fap worthy material. =P

>>13

Yes, it is. The researcher in Britain is Woodenrope. :-D (All I know about Woodenrope is that he/she/it uses a yahoo.co.uk address - I don't know anything about him/her/it aside from the skillful fairy torments we've seen.)


>>16

Nein on ditching the Copyright notice! It's not about being an attention whore, it's about claiming my legal right to my own creative work. I may well seek publication for it if I come across a publisher willing to step out onto that limb, in which case having a Copyright expressed would be crucial.

And several images are inspirations, from Woodenrope's two fairy series to several pieces from Zenith to a number of random guro pics from here and there.

oO

Fairy amputee pregnancy? We are all so messed up. Excellent writing.

The only people who object to keeping fairies as pets are "the same kind of people that think we shouldn’t be eating cows."?
It strikes me as odd that so many would know that fairies are intelligent and simply not give a damn.

Also, what happened to the magic? Did you forget about it or retcon it out proper?

(Fair warning: Reply will be in-character!)

Oh, many do know and do indeed give a damn, which causes problems occasionally at places like the pet store. In fact, they had to repel a PETA invasion earlier in their operation's history, thus Gladys' inquiry if I was an animal-rights type. Most think of fairies as "smart" in the pet sense as contrasted with "smart" in the personal, so as long as that mindset persists fairies as pets will persist as well. And in reality it's better for them as it might be the only thing saving them from eventual extinction.

As for the magic, fairy magic in the real species doesn't seem to do much outside their own kin, and my efforts at negation serve to lock out any possibility of some fairy having the ability to get something to work. I'll be writing about my experiments with fairy magic later, so you'll just have to stay tuned for that...

I read what you said about possibly seeking publication and, while I'm not a publisher, I can assure you that I would buy your book. Your character is a genius and I adore the variety of his experiments. A very special plus would be if someone would work with you to illustrate the machinery. I can hardly wait for future installments!

Somehow I get same kind of feeling from this as I get from reading Lovecraft.
Scientific approach, bizarre things discribed as they might be actually happening in real world?
Might be because of those two things.
I truly enjoyed reading this, definitely beats lurking thru everyday guro pics 100 - 1.

You wouldn't be able to recommend anything else to read with similiar approach?

Sounds yummy xD