[18+] Since time unrecorded, humanity has sought bargains with the fae. Whether for riches, or love, or luck, the fair folk have never hesitated to trade with mortals. On the steep slopes of Mount Snowdon, Fiona, dissatisfied with her body, seeks the aid of one of the faerie people. What follows is a night she won’t ever forget.

Today’s story is “The Pwca” by Holly A. Morrison, whose work will be featured in the upcoming Dancing with Devils by Weasel Press and Fur-miliar Spaces by Bound Tales Books.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is

“The Pwca” by Holly A. Morrison,

whose work will be featured in the upcoming

Dancing with Devils by Weasel Press

and Fur-miliar Spaces by Bound Tales Books.

“The Pwca”

by Holly Morrison

Fiona sat in the middle of the clearing,

breathing the crisp,

cool mountain air.

Her backpack dug into her shoulder,

weighed down with all the things she’d need.

Soon, she told herself,

glancing towards the western horizon and the setting sun.

The book, tucked in with all the other items in the backpack,

said to begin the ritual at dusk.

The waiting was painful.

Fiona was anxious to start

and the sun didn’t seem to be moving at all.

She watched it until her eyes watered,

then turned away,

worried that she would injure her sight.

There was nothing to distract her except for the whistle of wind through the craggy mountainside

and the rustle of brown and red leaves in the forest around her.

When the sun vanished

and the alpine lake below her burned gold and orange,

she shrugged off her backpack.

Her sweater and the pink t-shirt she had worn under it joined the pile,

followed by her jeans

and lacy panties.

She stood for a moment,

shivering in the chilly evening air with her arms crossed under her small breasts.

Fiona didn’t like her body much,

which was part of why she stood, naked,

nipples painfully erect,

penis trying to retract into her,

on the side of a mountain.

Her hips were too narrow, her shoulders too wide.

She thought herself too tall, all straight lines instead of curves.

How lucky she had been to find the book.

She sighed. There was no point to procrastinating and she certainly wasn’t getting any warmer.

Covered in gooseflesh,

Fiona extricated from her bag the materials the book had told her she would need.

She squatted down,

feeling exposed in more than one way,

as she spread out the undyed wool blanket on the ground.

Atop that went a jar of honey,

a glass of whisky,

a napkin filled with mistletoe berries,

a pint of vegetable oil,

and a beeswax candle.

She shoved her clothes and bag further into the darkness,

making sure there was no metal around the blanket,

then lit the candle.

By the candle’s light,

Fiona read from the book.

The language was old and unfamiliar to her,

but she had practiced, and the words were lyrical.

They flowed from her mouth,

stirring the red flame of the candle.

Around her, the wind whipped up.

It tugged at her hair

and swirled dead leaves up in spirals

that she could just barely see.

It raced over her body like frozen hands,

caressing her skin,

teasing over her back and stomach,

between her legs,

along her neck. Fiona reached the end of the passage

and began again from the top.

The wind died, and the forest was still.

Nothing stirred. The only sound was her voice

echoing between the trees.

Silvery moonlight fell on the clearing like rain,

brighter than the thin crescent that hung in the dark sky warranted.

It looked so fragile

that Fiona had the absurd thought her voice might shatter it like glass.

She repeated the passage a third time,

the candle and her hopes burning lower.

It had been a foolish thought, that this book might work,

that the fair folk might still listen to their mortal cousins.

She finished her fourth recitation

and paused. Shivers wracked her body, she realized,

and she hurt, from the cold and from squatting so long.

This was foolish, Fiona told herself again.

Her fingers traced the ancient letters in the book,

feeling the indention the author had left with a quill centuries before.

She was on the verge of closing the book

when she heard a footstep.

Nervously, she looked up,

scanning the dark forest for the hiker she was sure had stumbled across her naked

and chanting in the moonlight.

“You have called and I have answered, Daughter of the Sun,”

came a soft, dry voice.

It had a local accent and a musical quality that reminded her of the language in the book.

Squinting into the darkness,

Fiona could just make out the voice’s owner,

a tall, tanned figure

standing just outside the clearing.

Could it possibly have worked?

The book had told Fiona what to say.

“I want to make a bargain.”

The figure shifted subtly in the darkness

and Fiona had trouble keeping track of him.

He seemed to slide in and out of her vision.

“What do you seek, O Daughter?”

She took a deep breath.

This was what the book had warned about,

the actual striking of a bargain.

Everything after that should be easy,

even fun. “Grace,” she said,

“beauty, and dignity.”

He was silent a long time.

Fiona worried that she had somehow ruined everything

until he stepped into the clearing

and the strangely bright light of the moon.

“I agree to the bargain,”

said he. “Do you know the cost?”

“I do.” The book had told her that, too.

He came closer. He was broadly human looking, except that his legs ended in thick black hooves

and the penis that hung between those legs was thicker than any she’d seen on a man,

with a blunt head.

His face was not what she would call conventionally attractive,

with rough features

and a long, broad nose,

but he had a rugged beauty to him.

His eyes were arresting.

They were large and liquid brown,

with horizontal pupils like a horse.

A tangled, curly mane that fell to his shoulders.

As he walked around her,

she saw that, instead of ending at the top of the neck like a human,

his hair continued down to his upper back before tapering off.

He completed his circuit of her

and knelt on the edge of the blanket, facing her.

His alien eyes drilled into her

as he took the poisonous mistletoe

and began to eat them, one by one.

The honey was next.

When he drank the whisky,

she felt a warmth flare in the pit of her stomach,

flooding out into her limbs.

She was still cold,

but it was a distant coldness.

She stopped shivering

and her gooseflesh smoothed away.

To her embarrassment,

she felt herself getting hard.

The faerie’s eyes never left her.

“Do you accept the bargain, O Daughter?”

he asked as he sidled closer,

reaching for the oil.

“I do,” she breathed.

The words were barely out of her mouth before he had pulled her to her feet

and into his embrace in one, fluid motion.

His lips were on hers

and they were kissing,

his breath sweet and intoxicating.

He wasn’t warm, he was a furnace,

burning away the last chill of the mountain wind.

Fiona’s hands ran over his muscular back,

hard without a trace of fat,

and entangled in his twisted mane.

His arms encircled her

while he fiddled with the vegetable oil.

There was a tug and then she felt the oil pouring over her back,

her hips, down her thighs.

One of his hands, slick with oil,

gave her butt a squeeze before pulling her close to him.

He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist,

leaving the ground entirely.

A thick, blunt finger was pushed up against her,

sliding around her ass until it found her entrance.

She hissed out a breath as the oil-slick digit pushed inside of her.

The finger pushed further

and further inside her,

until she felt the faerie’s hand resting on her bottom.

He wriggled his digit,

making her squeal,

then added a second.

His touch was gentle,

even tender, but inexorable.

She leaned into his broad chest,

her penis a rod of steel against his stomach.

Each of her small movements

caused it to rub against him,

sending a wave of pleasure through her,

and each of his small movements inside of her

caused her to squirm against him.

Fiona wasn’t sure how long he teased her,

only that a third finger joined the first two after not too long,

and that at some point the exploration gave way to a slow,

steady pistoning. Far too soon for her liking, though,

he pulled his hand free and set her on her feet.

He guided her over to the nearest tree,

a birch, which she leaned against for support.

While Fiona attempted to regain her breath,

laying her face against the cool, paper-like bark,

the faerie slid behind her.

His rough hands caressed her hips and waist,

a heavy fingertip trailed up her spine,

leaving a shiver in its wake.

She didn’t realize what was happening

until she felt the blunt head of his shaft gliding over her oil-slick ass.

Scooting down along the tree a little,

she bent over, spreading her legs for him.

This was not exactly what she had been expecting from the book’s description, but it was close enough.

Besides, she expected this part to be enjoyable.

Fiona shivered as the faerie grabbed her hips.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a winter-dry purr.

She sucked in her breath as she nodded

and did her best to relax.

One of his hands left her hip

to guide his shaft to her entrance.

She moaned as he slid into her,

stretching her entrance further.

She had never had anything so big inside of her before,

but he was gentle and slow.

The faerie let her adjust to his girth before pushing farther into her.

It felt like an eternity until his hips were pushed against hers,

his cock fully embedded in her.

She ran a hand over her stomach,

half-expecting to feel him bulging through her abdomen.

The faerie laughed

and his now-free hand slid around her waist,

pulling her up and against him.

Fiona squealed as her feet left the ground again

and she found herself pinned to the tree.

He was much stronger than he looked

and had no trouble holding her,

one of his hands lifting her leg,

the other supporting her around her waist.

Then he moved, pulling out about halfway

and then plunging back into her. Fiona moaned loudly and settled into his grip,

letting him take charge.

He ground into her,

then began to thrust,

bodily moving her on his length,

half rocking in and out of her.

She shuddered, nails clawing rents in the birch bark.

The faerie shifted subtly

and then his blunt shaft rubbed against her prostate with his movements.

Each thrust was like a lightning bolt through her. He pushed her

closer to the tree

and then every one of his movements caused her own shaft to rub against the birch.

It wasn’t precisely comfortable,

but the sensations quickly became overwhelming.

Before she could process what was happening,

she orgasmed, covering the tree and her belly in her come.

The faerie sped up after she finished

and climaxed a moment later.

She felt his seed fill her,

spreading warmth through her body like the whisky had.

He let her down gently,

pulling out when her feet touched the ground,

and held her steady until her knees decided to support her weight again. “That

was amazing,” Fiona mumbled.

She was surprised at how out of breath she was.

He let her lean on him as she gulped at the air.

“You have paid the price well,”

he told her with a smile on his horsey face.

“Are you again steady?”

She nodded. “Then I believe

you asked for grace.”

Without warning, he leaned in to kiss her again.

His touch was liquid fire and it burned along her limbs.

Her whole world changed,

bringing her a thousand sounds

and scents she had never experienced before.

She was grace personified.

“I would like to chase you, if it pleases you,”

the faerie said. He had changed, too.

Gone were the solid equine hooves

and long, tangled mane.

Instead he stood on dainty,

cloven hooves, covered in dark, tawny fur

that swept over his whole body.

He was a deer, she realized,

and then she realized that she was, too,

standing on the same hooves,

covered in the same, albeit lighter, fur.

She flicked her tail – she had a tail! –

then, with a grin,

turned and sped through the forest.

It was exhilarating, rushing through the trees.

She scrambled over tumbled rocks that would have stymied her as a human,

sometimes dashing on all fours.

Her hands may have been hooves then, too,

but she couldn’t be sure.

Eyes set wide on a long muzzle gave her a view of the world she had never experienced before,

but her new nose and long, swiveling ears

afforded her a depth of information she had never dreamed of.

She could hear beetles scrambling up dark trees,

hear the soft rustle of owls swooping on their hunt,

smell the faintest hint of the distant sea,

and track the trail of all manner of beasts.

And she could smell the faerie, too,

a hot, sweet smell like summer grass.

She heard him chasing after her,

bounding, as she did, through the forest.

Fiona grinned and put on a burst of extra speed,

hopping along a series of rocks

along the side of the mountain.

She caught glimpses of twinkling lights in the distance,

what might be a far-away city reflected in the ocean.

At the top of the rocks was a small copse,

set away from the main forest.

She let him chase her in there,

and allowed him to catch her in the space between a handful of old oaks.

He pulled her into his arms

and they tumbled to the loamy ground,

wrapped around each other, lips locked.

The faerie’s hand slid around and between her legs,

then pressed against her pussy,

tickling over her sex.

She leaned back and moaned,

grinding herself into his hand before she realized what it was he was touching.

Fiona pulled away.

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“It is temporary,”

he told her. “Not part of the bargain’s completion,

only its enactment.”

He tilted his head,

distant starlight glinting off of antlers like silver.

“Do you wish me to stop?”

She thought about the question for a while,

then shook her head

and pulled him back into the kiss.

He resumed rubbing her sex with the rough palm of his hand

while his free arm slithered around her waist.

The faerie leaned over her,

his tongue slipping into her inviting mouth.

Fiona arched as he slid a finger into her pussy.

It was a wholly new sensation to her

and its newness sang along her nerves,

making her squirm against him.

The faerie held her tight

as his finger explored her,

the palm of his hand still rubbing over mound.

It wasn’t lined up quite right

and his hand was more a distraction than an aid,

but the brand-new feelings throughout her loin didn’t seem to care much.

She moaned into his mouth

and he smiled against hers.

He shifted to the side,

and a second finger joined the first.

His thumb slid down over her clitoris

and she thought she might leap out of her skin.

His touch was like magma through her belly,

his fingers inside of her pushing her along some path

she had never known.

Before she realized what was happening,

the sensations reached a crescendo

and she cried out,

her scream only slightly muffled by his lips.

Breaking tension

and a pleasure so pure she thought she might die from it

crashed down over her,

making her toes curl as she drew her legs up. Several minutes passed before Fiona regained her breath,

the faerie holding her tenderly to his chest the entire time.

When the fog of her orgasm cleared,

she was aware of the cold ground on her back,

of the human shape of her legs and feet,

even the curious absence where a tail had been.

The faerie was cupping her penis, not a vagina, once again.

Still, some part of the doe remained in her,

a grace deep in her bones.

“Beauty,” the faerie murmured.

He looked down at her quizzically.

“You are already beautiful.”

She flushed. “You sealed the bargain.”

With a sigh, the faerie shrugged.

“I shall show you a different beauty, then.”

He released her, then stood.

He stretched his arms up

and snapped them down and,

somewhere between the height of his reach and the downstroke,

they were giant, glossy black wings.

He flapped again

and shot upward like a rocket.

Fiona scrabbled upward on clawed, scaly-yellow legs,

emerging from brown feathered thighs.

Her arms, from the shoulder down,

had been transformed into wings,

huge sweeping wings tipped in black,

with brown coverts and white secondary feathers.

She looked like a harpy out of myth,

except that her skin was smooth and young,

her body strong and powerful.

Her eyes could pick out the tiniest detail

as though it were full sunlight out.

“Are you coming?” the faerie’s voice floated down to her,

and she could see him, just a speck in the sky,

circling around the mountaintop.

She didn’t bother to waste breath calling back,

and shot upward after him.

Fiona’s wings swept the air,

carrying her out of the copse and into open sky.

The world opened out below her,

a rolling mat of green and grey mountains,

shimmering lakes and the distant sea.

She hovered awkwardly in place,

her mouth agape as she stared at the landscape all around her,

until the faerie dove past.

Her wide-mouthed stare shifted into a grin

as she sped after the faerie,

the cold wind whipping around her as she wheeled and dove

and rose through the sky after him.

He lead her on a chase that crisscrossed the mountain,

ending in a lonely crag near the top.

The faerie strayed too near the ground

and was unable to dodge away when she pounced,

wicked claws seizing on his thighs while

her feathery wings wrapped over his chest.

They fell together onto the ground,

bouncing along the mountaintop before they collapsed

in a tangle of limbs and feathers.

Fiona managed to get to her feet first,

standing over the faerie

with a triumphant smirk.

The faerie sat up,

placing his hands on her hips, and,

without a word, took her penis into his mouth.

She goggled at him until he started to suck on her,

eliciting a soft moan.

She let her eyes drift closed

while he ran his tongue over her shaft,

encouraging it to harden.

He seemed to have no trouble with its length,

keeping his lips sealed around the base

as she became erect.

His tongue was skillful

and eager, tickling along the underside of her shaft,

making her heart race

and her breath catch.

The faerie held her steady

as he pulled back,

letting her slip out of his mouth,

then dived back down.

He bobbed his head

in long, rapid strokes,

tongue exploring every inch of her shaft.

Fiona whimpered softly,

running her hands over the faerie’s muscular arms.

He pulled her forward,

and she found herself

thrusting into his mouth.

Her hands traced over his broad shoulders

and then tangled in his curly hair

as she picked up speed.

Fiona cried out and pulled the faerie’s head down onto her shaft as she felt heat

and lust build up inside of her.

He held her against him,

sucking on her shaft

while his tongue danced along it.

A creeping tightness slid over her,

and she stood up on the tips of her claws,

biting her lower lip as she tried to hold back.

She couldn’t resist forever, though,

and she cried out as she orgasmed,

filling his mouth with her seed.

The faerie kept her pinned there

until her climax subsided,

eyes twinkling up at her

while she shuddered in his grasp.

When he finally let her pull out of his mouth,

her legs were unable to support her weight.

He guided her down into his lap,

cradling her to his chest.

She opened her eyes to find them still seated,

a ring of molted feathers encircling them.

She ran a hand over her leg,

smooth once again,

and along the top of her foot, which was mud-stained and dirty,

but no longer bore raptor claws,

but she could feel that

glorious freedom still.

A different kind of beauty, indeed.

The faerie held her close,

one hand stroking along her back.

The moon was nearing the horizon,

and the first pale, pink fingers of dawn

were inching along the opposite edge of the sky.

“Dignity,” he murmured into her ear.

“Our time grows short.”

She started to respond,

but stopped as she watched him shrink,

his face expanding into a long,

black-furred muzzle,

a bushy tail sprouting from his rear.

Fiona slid from his lap as the faerie transformed

into a fox. Not a half-human creature,

but a real, perfectly normal fox,

except for the solid black fur

and the eyes like a well.

She felt her own tail spring up,

her hands and feet turning to paws,

and then she landed softly on all fours,

a vixen in her own right,

with brilliant red fur, the same color as the spreading sunrise.

They didn’t chase each other this time,

but walked side-by-side through the forest

like the queen and fae-king of beasts.

Other animals stopped and watched them pass:

a solid-looking otter,

a pair of stoats,

even a great mountain goat,

which bowed its massive, horned head as they passed.

Arm-in-arm, they lead a stately procession through the trees as the sun came up behind them.

Fiona looked down at her arm,

linked with the faerie’s,

unsure of when they had changed back.

She was draped in a scandalously low cut dress of wool,

the same color her fur had been,

while he wore a solid black kilt

and soft white shirt.

He graced her with a smile

as they stepped into the clearing,

the remnants of her offerings still laid out on the blanket,

the candle guttering

and nearly burned to nothing.

The faerie swept her off her feet and carried her to the blanket,

then carefully set her down.

He knelt by her side,

giving her a lingering,

deep kiss. Her hands teased along his chest,

feeling his muscles flex as he tenderly spread her legs,

one of his own hands sliding up along her thigh.

She lay back on the blanket,

unable to suppress a grin as he climbed atop her.

With a wave of his hand,

their clothes dissolved into mist,

which burned away at the touch of the nascent sun.

The faerie settled between her legs,

his penis already hard as he guided its tip to her vagina.

Fiona crossed her legs behind the faerie’s back,

her breath quick with anticipation and eagerness.

One of his large hands slid underneath her,

lifting her back a few centimeters as he leaned into her.

His blunt shaft slid past her wet and eager entrance,

and she stifled a moan.

It felt so huge inside of her,

like nothing she’d ever felt before.

Her arms wrapped around his neck,

and she levered herself up against him,

pressing her lips to his.

The faerie smiled into the kiss,

then opened his mouth to her exploring tongue.

He pushed forward,

sliding into her,

spreading her wide.

She couldn’t stifle the moan this time,

nor did she really try.

Instead, she rocked her hips against his,

feeling him pull an inch or so out before driving even deeper into her.

They moved together,

slow at first then picking up speed

until her hips bounced off of his with each thrust.

Her fingernails clawed at his back

and he tightened his grip around her middle,

pressing her against him as they built up more

and more speed. Warmth spread through her core

and she murmured nonsense into his mouth, which made him smile more.

He cradled her to him as their thrusts plateaued out,

the both of them going as fast as they could.

The sounds of their coupling

brought a faint blush to Fiona’s cheeks but she couldn’t seem work up too much embarrassment.

The pleasure suffusing her,

spreading to the tips of her fingers and toes,

and crowded out all other emotion except,

perhaps, a strong undercurrent of affection

and contentment. The faerie finished first.

He hilted himself in her

and groaned deeply as his thick shaft flexed inside of her,

spilling warmth into her belly.

Fiona clung to him as he came,

feeling the heat of his orgasm flooding her.

She pulled out of the kiss

and lay back against the blanket, watching his face.

When he finished,

he leaned down to kiss her again,

and this time she let him explore her mouth with his tongue.

His hand slid out from underneath her

and along her side before resting on one of her breasts.

He gently caressed it,

fingers exploring the mound of her bosom

until his thumb found her nipple.

She shuddered as he flicked over it,

rough digit tracing it.

Fiona gasped in surprise

as he began thrusting into her again,

his shaft still as hard as ever.

She’d never been with anyone with as much endurance as the faerie.

She broke the kiss

and closed her eyes, focusing on the building heat in her loins.

He tucked his head down and kissed along the line of her throat,

surprisingly sharp teeth adding

little nips that caused waves of excitement to shiver through her.

She clamped down around him as best she could

with unfamiliar muscles.

She tensed, not quite growling,

then howled in ecstasy

as his hand and mouth

and thick shaft pushed her over the edge.

Her climax crashed down on her,

so intense that she worried about blacking out.

He held her close to him as she came,

pleasure wracking her body.

When she finally finished,

she barely had the strength to keep her arms around the faerie.

He settled her down on the blanket,

then draped himself over her,

resting on his elbows to prevent crushing her under his weight.

Fiona lifted her head

and kissed him fiercely,

if a little shakily.

“Thank you,” she managed, before settling back down.

“It was a pleasure, O Daughter of the Sun,”

he told her, though she scarcely heard.

She lay there, under his comforting warmth and weight,

until the candle finally sputtered out.

She was not sure whether she fell asleep or he simply vanished,

but when she opened her eyes,

the sun was noticeably higher

and the faerie was nowhere to be found.

Fiona was also cold

and the howling mountain wind threatened to drive out what little warmth she retained.

She was not surprised to find that her penis was where it ought to be

but she was both shocked and delighted to find that her jeans were

much tighter through the hips

and her shirt looser along her shoulders.

Whistling jauntily,

she packed up the remainder of her supplies and her blanket,

and began the long hike back to her hotel room

and a long, hot bath.

Maybe, she thought as she walked,

her bearing proud and dignified,

she’d browse the book some more

and see if there were any other

interesting bargains to be made.

This was “The Pwca”

by Holly A. Morrison,

read for you by Khaki,

your faithful fireside companion.

You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.