Aurora's Erotic Adventures E-Book

Alana Church

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

If JRR Tolkien had been a horny pervert, this is the sort of fantasy anthology he would have written! A human woman learns she is the lost Summer Queen, and embarks on a sexual odyssey. Can she navigate between sexy elves, horny orcs, lovely pixies, a deranged dwarf king, and her own explosive desires to find her happily-ever-after? Find out in "Aurora's Erotic Adventures!"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

"All right." Aurora's voice was a hoarse rasp, and she nodded, one quick bounce of her head. "What do we...how do we do it?"

"Slowly," Rose said, her voice a purr. She walked slowly behind her, her sharp nails trailing along the skin of her arm in a way that made her shiver.

"Sweetly," Elanor said, stepping close. She was shorter than either Aurora or her lover, and her blue eyes were utterly devoid of artifice. Gentle hands clasped her hips, and Aurora shivered as she felt their warmth. "What does my lady desire?"

"I don't know."

"Then we shall discover it together." Her eyes darted aside for a moment. "My queen? If we could trouble you?"

"Stars and stones, where's my head at? Of course." Titania waved an arm, and a blanket large enough to cover a good-sized soccer field appeared on the ground, along with assorted pillows and cushions. "Do you think you will require...more?"

"No," Rose whispered from behind her. Her breath was hot and quick on her shoulders, and suddenly Aurora felt the warm press of her lips on her skin. "Bodies only, my queen. It is better thus." Fingers pressed against the neckline of her dress, and though she knew that there was neither buttons nor zipper nor seam, Aurora could feel the garment begin to part, warm air hitting her naked shoulder blades as Rose caressed her skin.

"Like milk," the pixie whispered, and kissed her again. And now, oh, and now she could feel her hot wet tongue pressing into the skin above her spine, kissing and licking all over. "Your skin. So pure. One could almost mistake you for a daughter of Winter." Lower and lower she roamed, dotting kisses on her back while she shook like a woman with a fever.

And then the dress was off, puddled around her waist. "Oh, my. I should have a bard visit. He would compose an ode to the curve of your arse alone, my queen." Her fingers explored, parting her cheeks, and she stiffened in shock as her tongue trialed down her cleft towards her anus.

"Rose." The word was a warning.

"What?"

"Remember," Elanor said, her hands rising until they were a mere cat's-breath away from her breasts. Aurora ached with the desire to have the pixie touch them. "Our lady is young in the ways of love. Perhaps sticking your tongue in her arsehole can wait a few days?"

"But it's such a cute little arsehole," she pouted, kissing her butt-cheek instead. "Nice and pink."

That would be "Things I never expected to ever hear about my ass," for a thousand, Alex, Aurora thought.

"You should see her tits," Elanor went on, as if Rose hadn't spoken. Finally, to Aurora's relief, she cupped one in her hand. "Almost as big as an orc-woman's. But much less...greeny."

"Let me see!" In a flash, Rose had joined her lover. "Ooh, nice." Her eyes flickered to the side, meeting Elanor's in a glance which seemed to hold an entire conversation. "One for each of us."

Leseprobe

Aurora’s Erotic Adventures

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2021 Alana Church

~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

Seduced By The Fae

By Alana Church

Chapter 1: Elf-Napped!

The room was quiet.

Which was all that Rory Harper could have wanted. Deep within the confines of Maplethorpe Financial, her fingers flickered across her keyboard, her mind dancing with the rhythms of the code.

She loved computers. Computers were so…simple. You told them what to do, and they did it. And if they weren’t doing what they were supposed to, it was probably your fault for not telling them to do the right thing.

Not like people. She frowned distractedly, though her fingers didn’t miss a stroke. People were the opposite of simple. Even if you said the right thing, they could take it the wrong way. So many ways of communicating. Words, tone, accent, inflection, and phrasing. The expression on your face or the tilt of your head could make a simple declarative statement into something completely other.

A knock sounded on her door, which was then pushed open. “Rory? It’s time for lunch.”

She didn’t look up. “Lunch? What?”

“Lunch,” the cheerful voice said firmly. “You know. The meal between breakfast and dinner?”

“I’m busy,” she replied, trying to concentrate. “Come back in an hour.”

“No way.” Silvia Martinez walked across the beige carpet, and to her horror, began to stab at random buttons on her keyboard, ignoring her efforts to bat away her fingers.

“Silvia! Stop that! You’ll ruin it!”

“I will,” she said, “if you stop working yourself to the bone and eat a meal.”

She heaved a sigh. “Fine.” Saving her work, she locked her laptop and stood up. “You are a horrible friend.”

“But I am your friend. Come on. Let’s eat.”

“So what are your plans for the weekend?” she asked politely, once she and Silvia were seated at a small café near the office. She took a sip of water.

Silvia’s dark eyes danced with a merry gleam. “Carlos and I are dumping the kids off on their grandparents. So we have the weekend to ourselves. My folks are picking them up as soon as I get home from work tonight, and we’re not taking them back until Sunday afternoon. We’re going to have some fun. A romantic dinner tonight, then we’re going out all day tomorrow. Maybe to the lake, maybe to the parks, and then dancing at the club where we met tomorrow night.” She winked at her. “Maybe nine months from now, Valentina and Mateo will have a baby brother or sister.”

“That’s sounds nice.” She picked at her salad.

Silvia put her head on one side. “Why don’t you come out with us tomorrow night, chica? Carlos has a lot of single friends. We could hook you up with a date.”

She smiled thinly. “No thanks. I’m not interested.”

Silvia sat back in her chair. “I don’t get you, Rory. I really don’t. How do you expect to find someone if you spend all day behind a computer at work or holed up in that apartment of yours?”

“I’m not interested in meeting anyone, Silvia.” Her words were almost sharp. “Ever.”

Silvia shook her head sadly. It was such a waste. Her friend was kind, decent, friendly when she wasn’t distracted by the wonders of computer technology, and completely hopeless where men were concerned.

She didn’t even try! It was enough to make a friend cry, it really was. No one would call Rory attractive. But she wasn’t ugly, either. The problem was she didn’t even seem to care! Her clothes were nondescript to the point of blending into the woodwork, shapeless beiges and browns that didn’t flatter her tall, slender body at all. Her mousy brown hair was held back in a tail, and only reached its current length because Rory couldn’t be bothered to style it.

No perfume, no cosmetics…she sighed. The only attractive feature she had were a pair of glorious green eyes. Deep-set beneath her brows, they were a dark, brilliant jade, the color of oak leaves on a summer morning.

“I’ve told you before, Silvia.” Rory’s voice gentled, though she was still looking down at her salad. “I’m not interested in men. At all. Or women, either,” she added when she opened her mouth. Her tone took on an unaccustomedly hard edge. “I’m not interested in sex, period.”

“But-’’

“I’m not interested,” the younger woman repeated. “I’m asexual. I don’t want sex. I don’t need sex. I’m not interested in sex.” A delicate shudder seemed to course through her body. “All those things that women do with men…tongues and penises and all that. I think it’s just plain gross.”

“Don’t knock it until-’’

“You’ve tried it?” A sad smile crossed her thin lips. “I have. Twice. Once with a man. Once with a woman. It was as much fun as sitting through church with my mother. No thanks.

“Come on, Silvia. I’ve told you this before. Why can’t you just accept it?”

She sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry. But it seems so weird.”

“No weirder than wanting to have a man stick his penis into your vagina, from where I sit.”

“But that’s…”

“Perfectly normal?” Her lips turned up in genuine amusement.

Silvia colored, a blush heating her dark skin as she realized how she had stumbled into Rory’s trap. “All right.” She took a bite of her chicken wrap. “And I do apologize. I won’t mention it again. Ever. I promise.”

“Please don’t,” her friend sighed. “I try not to talk about my sexuality if I don’t have to. No one understands. Not even you, though I know you try.” A hand reached out to touch her wrist. “I know you mean well, Silvia. But talking about it is like having seven toes on each foot. Sometimes you’d just rather leave your shoes on.”

“All right. But why don’t you go out with us anyway?” she persisted. “Even if you aren’t looking to meet someone, you could still have a good time.”

But Rory just shook her head. “No, thanks. I want to get ahead of this project I’m working on. And I have some reading I would like to catch up on, too.”

“Rory.” She shook her head. “I care about you. But if you’re not careful, you’re going to find out that your entire life has passed you by while you’ve been staring at a computer monitor.” She sighed. “There’s great big world out there. Aren’t you worried you’re missing it?”

Her friend smiled. “You worry too much. I’ve got all I need, Silvia.”

“All right,” she said reluctantly. There was no use badgering Rory. If she didn’t want to do something, she wouldn’t do it, no matter how many times you brought the subject up. Trying to get her to change her mind only aggravated her. And she valued her friendship too much, prickly as it sometimes was, to risk losing it.

As she thought, her friend signaled for the check. “I have to get back to work. I just thought of a shortcut.”

Rory worked through the rest of the afternoon, caught in the happy glow which only occurred when a project finally started to come together. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, lines of code appearing with a rapidity which had to be seen to be believed.

A dimming of the light outside her window finally made her raise her head, blinking as she came out of her intellectual haze. A look at the clock in the corner of her monitor told her it was well after closing time. Through the door, she could see that the office was practically deserted, the only sounds those of the custodial crew moving down the hallways with their carts full of cleaning supplies.

She stood, shrugging on her light jacket and picking up her purse. Her laptop was deposited in a carrying bag which she slung over her shoulder.

She was just about to head for the door when a movement out of the corner of her eye made her spin. In the dimmest corner of the room, a figure stepped forward.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “How did you get in here?”

Ruby-red lips curved in a faintly predatory smile.

“Hello, Aurora.” The voice was a warm, throaty murmur.

“I’m your grandmother.”

“My grandmother.” Thinking quickly, she backed a few steps away, toward her desk. Damn it, why had she stuck her cell phone in her purse? And how could she get rid of this lunatic? “I don’t remember ever seeing you before.” Trying to shield the movement with her body, she reached for the phone on her desk, intending to dial 911.

“Ah-ah!” the woman said warningly. She hissed a word, and sparks flashed over the grey surface of the phone, which then emitted black smoke and a distressed electronic bweep. The screen went blank, and her nose caught the pungent whiff of fried electronics. “Please. Don’t try to do that again,” the strange woman said. “I can’t have you contacting the mortal authorities. They can become so…tiresome.”

She sat down in the spare chair. “There. Now we can have a nice little chat before we leave.”

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere with you. And you can’t possibly be my grandmother. She would have to be sixty years old at least.”

“Oh, I’m much older than that.” Her mouth stretched in a knowing smile. Her teeth were very white, and looked just a tiny bit sharp. “But among our kind, as you will find out, granddaughter, looks can be very deceiving. You must learn not to judge a book by its cover. Otherwise, you might get into trouble. Life on the other side is cruel and unforgiving, and even the mightiest of us can make fatal mistakes.”

Rory leaned against the side of her desk, her arms crossed across her small bust. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get out.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“Again. No.” She smiled again. “Isn’t this amusing? It’s as if we are living out all those little family quarrels in the space of a few minutes. What shall we do next? Oh! I know!” She clapped her hands mockingly. “You will tell me you despise me, I am ruining your life, and you have no interest in fulfilling the responsibilities of your family.” Her mouth hardened a fraction. “As your mother did.”

“My mother? What do you know of her?”

“I know everything about her. Wicked, foolish, headstrong child of my loins,” she spat angrily. Her eyes were as hard and clear as emeralds. The same color, Rory realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach, as her own. “Deserter. Traitor. And she thought she could hide my grandchild from me. It took me years to find you. I swear to all the gods above and below, when I get my hands on her, there will be a reckoning.”

Rory shivered. Whoever, whatever, this woman was, she was no random crazy who had wandered in off the street, off her meds and ranting about the lizard-people who controlled the one-world government. The sheer wealth her clothes hinted at disabused her of that notion in a hurry. Her silk suit was exquisitely cut, serving both to conceal and flatter her womanly curves. It varied through every shade of green, a balm to her computer-strained eyes. The blouse was a delicate shade of mint, while the tight-fitting jacket was a deep, forest green, hinting at the leaves of a tropical jungle. The skirt, meanwhile, was an arresting lime. Her low pumps were a foamy sea-green, and she wore a necklace of emeralds and diamonds around her creamy neck. Even her ear-rings each bore a single delicate jade stone, glittering in the low light.

And her body, she realized distractedly, was exactly of the type which would have made the male managers of Maplethorpe Financial fall all over themselves in a contest to try to impress her with their wit, charm, and money. She looked, to her eyes, to be a well-preserved thirty. Maybe thirty-five at the outside. Her face, when she smiled, however, transformed her into a young woman only a few years out of college. But her body was that of a mature woman in the full summer of her years, lush and promising, carried with a graceful ease.

“Your mother,” this woman was saying, as she focused on the conversation, “hid you, bound you ’round with illusion, cloaked you from my sight, and kept your own heritage a secret from you. Look at you!” she snapped. “Ignorant of who you are, what you are, thinking yourself no more than one of the mortals who crowd this realm. The incredible majesty of your bloodline a secret. She desecrated not just your mind and your memory, but also your body and your very soul, the core of who you are! She was ashamed of what we were! So she ran off, hid herself and her child from me, her mother, doing her utmost that you would never know the truth.”

“The truth? What truth?”

“Rory.” The name dripped scorn. “A name neither woman nor man, suitable for someone who would never take up her responsibilities among her people.

“In truth, my grandchild, thou art Aurora, grand-daughter of Titania, and you are the Summer Lady, youngest of the Three Queens of the Summer Court of Faerie.”

If this was a movie, Rory thought vaguely, there would have been soaring, triumphant music as this strange woman made her declaration of her parentage. Sunbeams would have arrowed down from the sky, illuminating her in ravishing light. A kindly, white-bearded wizard might be standing nearby and have had a tiara ready to crown her.

Instead, there was nothing but the low hum of a vacuum sweeper a few offices away.

“Um. What?”

“You are a queen of the fae. Of faerie. I have been looking for you for years, once I despaired of ever convincing your mother to return to her home and take up her duties. But now the task falls to you.”

“Duties? What duties? And I’m not going anywhere! The new season of Doctor Who starts next week!”

Titania looked at her blankly. “Your mother is a terrible influence, and has much to answer for,” she said musingly. She glanced around the office, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “But I am not going to have this discussion here, where any prying eye could see, where any emissary of Winter could hear our conversation.”

“Good!” She sagged with relief. “Tomorrow? We can do this tomorrow! Come by my apartment. We can have dinner. Or maybe just a cup of tea.”

The older woman cocked her head at her. “Your offer of hospitality does you credit,” she murmured. “But do you really intend to be at home when I arrive?”

“Of cou-’’ Her voice cut off, and she struggled to finish the sentence. Her throat closed, choking off her breath.

The elegantly curved eyebrows rose. “Thou wouldst try to deceive the Queen of Summer, Aurora? For shame.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs demurely. A finger flicked, and she could breathe again. “Let that be a lesson to you, Summer Lady. Do not try to lie to myself, or the Mother of Summer. Or it will go poorly with you.”

She glared at Titania. “How many of them are you?”

“Counting you? As I said, there are three Queens of Summer to match the three Queens of Winter.

“The Queen Who Was, who has no name, but is the Mother of Summer. I am Titania - The Queen Who Is.

“And yourself. Aurora, the Summer Lady, the Queen Who Is To Come.

“Enough.” Titania stood, rising to her full height. “I am not going to engage in…hmmm, what was the phrase that mortal used? Ah, yes. I am not going to give you the whole song and dance in this dreary place.” She sniffed. “Quite unsuitable for the Summer Lady. And the bare little hole you live in is no better. No,” she decided with a firm nod. “I am going to take you home.”

“Home?”

“Your true home.” Her face gentled, in that instant becoming almost kind. “The home your secret heart yearns for. The place you have seen in your dreams, Aurora, hovering just out of your reach, as close and as far away as the island a shipwrecked mariner struggles toward.”

My dreams? Her memory leaped back, and she hesitated, recalling a far green country, hills and groves of trees leaping into view under a swift sunrise. “No.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know you. This is crazy.” Could she escape? But Titania was blocking the route to the door. Another step, and then another one, and the older woman was right in front of her. “Get away from me!” Her voice, panicking, edged upwards to a shriek.

“I am sorry,” came the murmur. A pair of hands settled on her temples, ignoring her increasingly-frantic attempts to avoid her. “I hope, someday, you will find it in your heart to forgive your mother.

“There will be pain.”

A series of sibilant words, uttered in a language she did not understand…

And then-

It was not pain. Pain was too small and feeble a word for it.

It was agony.

Rory screamed soundlessly, her grandmother’s hands holding her upright as she dangled helplessly in her grip, as if her fingers were a pair of spikes drilling through her head and into her brain. Her hands flailed helplessly, striking at Titania with all her strength, but the older woman ignored them.

She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. Her mind was a ball of fire, searing her skull. Her entire body felt as if it had been dipped in liquid fire, her very bones melting and being reforged in some unseen holocaust. Her legs, her arms, her chest, her belly, her groin, her shoulders, her face, her nerves shredded with pain, fiery anguish reshaping her into some unknown, unknowable new template.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Blinking tears of pain from her eyes, she stepped forward, snarling, “You bit-’’ but then caught her toe in the carpet, falling forward in a graceless heap on the floor. For long moments she lay there, curled up around herself, shuddering with the aftershock.

“Second warning, grand-daughter. Never raise your hand to the Queen of Summer. I have killed men for less. Much less.

“Now, get up.” Titania’s voice was impatient. “And let’s have a look at you.”

Rory got to her knees. Then her feet, staggering slightly. Her body felt strange. Off-balance. Not her own.

“Ah.” Her grandmother’s red lips curled in approval. “Very nice. No one would mistake you now as anyone but the scion of Summer.”

“What?”

A hand gestured towards the window. “See for yourself.”

As they spoke, night had fallen over Chicago. Although the skyscrapers on either side were brightly lit, outside it was dark enough for the lights in her office to make the window a reflective mirror.

Aurora looked at her image, and gasped.

That is not me. It’s a trick. It can’t be true. She raised a hand to her face in disbelief, her eyes widening as her reflection did the same.

I’m…beautiful.

Indeed, calling her beautiful seemed as redundant as calling Mount Everest “big” or the Grand Canyon “Man, really deep, yo.”

Her hair…she reached up. Formerly a limp, mousy brown, now it burst forth from her scalp in reddish-gold abundance, curling around her face before falling in waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her mouth was generous and sensual, with full, pouting lips drawn up in a coquettish bow. The crooked place in her nose was gone. Her cheeks were no longer hollow and pale, but full, with high, arching cheekbones that drew the eye, and her eyebrows curled in delicate wings, giving her a winsome look.

And that was only the smallest change.

Her legs were longer. Much longer. She could see the way the cuffs of her beige, no-nonsense slacks now stopped a good three inches above her ankles. And the slacks themselves were uncomfortably tight around her legs, which were noticeably fuller, her thighs straining at the cheap polyester. She shifted, trying to ease the too-tight fit, and to her mortification, her pants ripped in a deep gash down her thigh, exposing a long glimpse of golden-tan skin. And that was not all. Before, her body had been so boyish that she was forced to buy men’s clothes in an effort to disguise just how bony her hips and rear were. But now the waist of her slacks was almost painfully snug, the curves of her hips pushing at the tight-stretched fabric in an effort to escape.

And still there was more.

With her new height, her blouse had pulled out of the waistband of her slacks. She trailed her fingers across the warm, glowing skin of her stomach, somehow soft and muscular at the same time. And even higher up…she swallowed.

It couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be real.

For nearly a dozen years, Aurora had worn a padded bra in an effort to make it appear she had a hint of a woman’s curves. But at night, when she went home, the truth was painfully obvious, little though she cared. Her breasts were no more large or impressive than a prepubescent boy’s. Not that it had ever really mattered to her. Her complete lack of a sex drive made breasts seem unnecessary, even unwanted.

But now…

The buttons on her blouse had ripped in a vain attempt to contain the twin spheres of flesh which now burst forth from her chest. The size and shape of cantaloupes, they jutted into the air with a kind of casual arrogance that dared people to look at them. The same golden-tan as the rest of her skin, they were amazingly firm, but wobbled most enticingly as she gasped with shock.

The small cups of her bra had been pushed to the sides, and the strap bit painfully into her back. Almost without thinking, her hands reached around, under her ruined blouse, unsnapping the hooks. Sighing with relief, she let it fall to the floor.

“At last, a modicum of sense,” came a murmur from behind her. A pair of hands reached around her waist, pulling her back into a warm, soft embrace. Titania’s green eyes, so like her own, caught hers in the reflection in the window. “I am pleased. Most pleased. I feared that your mother had not settled for hiding your body under this illusion, but may have chosen something more…permanent.”

“What?” She shook her head, feeling herself sliding into panic again. Everything was wrong. This woman, with the weird way she spoke. The indecipherable conversation, with the way it seemed to touch on subjects she thought she should know, but left others disturbingly blank. This new, strange, undeniably sexy body, as ill-fitting on her as a ballgown on a troll.

And why the hell did I just think of that?

“What…what’s going on? I don’t understand. What did you do to me?!”

A fey light lit Titania’s eyes. “I gave you the truth. The truth your mother was too much of a coward to tell you. The truth which, in your secret heart, you have always known. The truth which has haunted your dreams. Come with me, granddaughter, and find out more. Discover your true heritage. Embrace your destiny, Aurora.”

She turned away, slicing the edge of one hand through thin air as if she were a stunt double in a cheesy kung-fu movie.

But when she stepped away, the air…split. Light poured through, coming from someplace - somewhere – else, as if she had torn a hole in the very fabric of reality itself. Pure, golden sunlight, unmistakably different from the harsh florescent light coming from overhead, poured through. Her nose caught a whiff of flowers, tantalizing in the musty, stale air of the office.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had taken a step forward, then another. Her hands groped on her desk, though her eyes didn’t leave that incredible, impossible slice in the air. The strap of her laptop carrier was slung over the shoulder of her ruined blouse, her purse clutched in one hand.

“Your belongings. You will not need them.”

“I do need them. They help me remember who I am.”

One shoulder lifted in an elegant shrug. “As you wish.” Titania lifted a hand. “Hold on to me. The first time can be a little…disorienting.”

And then she walked through the door into Summer.

And Rory Harper followed, never to return to that place as a living woman.

Chapter 2: Family History

She fell to her knees in green grass. Her stomach heaved, and she clenched her jaw hard, fighting the urge to vomit. Closing her eyes, she fought for control of her body while her inner ear spun, trying to tell her which way was up.

Disorienting. Yeah. Like doing a double backflip into a dry pool.

She swallowed, forcing down the surge of nausea, to find Titania looming over her, her eyebrows raised. “Are you well?”

She swallowed again. “I...I think so.” She stood up, looking around. “Where…where are we?”

The other woman smiled blindingly. “This is my home.” She turned, a sweeping arm inviting her to take it all in. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Rory was forced to agree. The land which greeted her eyes, as she staggered, wobbling, to her feet, seemed to be landscaped like an English garden, if the Englishman in question was a duke, filthy rich, and had an army of servants at his disposal to cater to his every whim. Low, rolling hills stretched off into the distance, interspersed with small clumps of trees, their limbs clean and high, their leaves green and bright. Bright patches of flowers, in colors and profusion enough to dizzy the eye, sprang up everywhere she looked, their sweet scent lending a heady aroma to the air. The sky was a high, perfect blue, with puffy white clouds like wads of clean cotton only serving to accentuate its color. Even the air was soft and balmy, like a warm June evening, the gentlest of breezes caressing her skin.

“It’s…absolutely lovely.” She turned in a circle. “But where’s your house?”

Titania blinked. “House? I said this was my home. Not my house.”

“Don’t you have a house?”

“Oh, of course,” she replied carelessly. “Several, in fact. One in each of the realms over which I hold sway. And three or four in the mortal lands, as well. One never knows when one might need to make an appearance. But this,” she breathed in deeply. “This is the heart of Summer in Faerie. I have no house here. And need none.”

“But…” It was all suddenly too much. An hour ago, her life had been normal. Predictable.

Boring, her mind whispered.

But now…she looked down at her body, the ruins of her outfit, her hair, her perfect, impossibly large breasts, her long, slender legs, the burgeoning swells of her hips, and felt the foundations of her world crack.

Helplessly, ashamed, she burst into tears, wracking sobs tearing at her chest. She sank to her knees, covering her face with her hands, wishing with all her heart that she would have found the courage to run from Titania, run from her impossible demands, run back home to her apartment and read a book she had read a dozen times before, and watch a show where she already knew the good guys would win and no one would get hurt.

“Shhhh.” Warm, slim arms embraced her, and soft lips kissed her overheated cheek, wiping away her tears. “Oh, poor youngling. I am sorry. I wish it were different. I wish your mother had not run so far and hid herself so well. I wish you had grown up knowing the truth.”

Aurora sniffled, but found her own arms clutching the other woman. There. There was something solid to hold onto amid the wreckage of her life. Someone who owed her answers.

Someone warm. Someone soft. And the silk of her suit really did feel most amazingly pleasant on the skin of her breasts.

Looking down, she blushed, trying to pull her blouse shut over her newly-enlarged mammaries. There was an unfamiliar tingle in her chest, which was echoed in her groin. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Whyever should you be? I am pleased that my blood ran true in you. It would have been mortifying to think that my grandchild had been sullied by an impure bloodline.” Somehow, her grandmother gave the impression of shuddering delicately while holding perfectly still.

“What?”

Titania stood up. “Enough of this foolish prattling. The hour grows late. Would you like to sleep, child?”

Indeed, the shadows were growing longer. And while not cold by any means, the air had cooled slightly, reminding her on summer evening. Aurora yawned, finding, to her surprise, that she was exhausted. “Yes, please.”

Titania smiled. “Very well.” She turned, raising her voice slightly. “Rose! Elanor!”

To Aurora’s shock, two figures seemed to leap out of flower patches a few yards away. They bounded close, then knelt at Titania’s feet. “Yes, my queen?” one asked.

Titania smiled. “Rise, please.” One hand was laid on Aurora’s shoulder, and she tried her best to hold back a flinch. “This is my granddaughter, Aurora. She has come home to us at last. But she is wearied by her journey from the mortal realm, and needs to rest.

“Bathe her and find her a place to rest. And in the morning, please try to find some suitable attire for her, as well. These things,” she sniffed, a finger and thumb reaching out to finger her blouse distastefully, “simply will not do.”

“Yes, my queen,” the taller one answered, her eyes shining as she looked at Aurora with undisguised curiosity. She was very slender, with flaming red hair, clad only in a diaphanous gown that barely reached the middle of her thighs. The slanting sunlight left no doubt that she was completely naked underneath, and Aurora felt her cheeks warm. Her companion was an inch or two shorter, with kindly blue eyes and golden-blond hair that fell in a sheer wave to her waist, and her dress was even shorter. As she spun to lead her away, the hem lifted high enough that she could see the curves of her perky buttocks.

And they were both very beautiful, with tight, svelte bodies and small, pert breasts.

And why am I noticing this? Aurora’s lips pinched tight.

“Go. And dream sweetly, Summer Lady.”

She nodded tightly. “Maybe in the morning, you will tell me something that will help me make sense of this.”

A secret smile curled those red lips. “Maybe I will. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Driven by an impulse, she attempted a clumsy curtsy, but was stopped by a hand on her chin. Startled, she looked up.

“Thou art Aurora, the Summer Lady, youngest of the Summer Queens.” Her grandmother’s eyes were hard and fierce. “And we bow to no one.

“Not even each other.”

“Did you really come to us from the mortal realm?” the taller woman asked, leading Aurora down the hill. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

Aurora stifled a yawn. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She blinked, confused. “I’m sorry. Which one are you, again?”

The two looked at each other, and giggled. “You truly cannot tell?” asked the blond woman, her voice soft.

“Truly. Please.” She sighed. Her head was beginning to ache, and body swam with weariness. “Can’t you help me?”

A pair of glances were traded. “She asks for our aid.”

“And does not even know us, sister.”

“She is a noble lady, and kind.”

“Or a foolish one.” A giggle. “If we meant her ill, she could do nothing, as ignorant of our ways as she is.”

“But our queen bade us to care for her. And we do not dare disobey her.”

A solemn nod. “So we will do for her what we can. Perhaps the Summer Lady will remember our generosity in the future.”

The redhead turned to her as the conversation bounced to a halt. “I am Rose, Summer Lady. And my companion,” she smiled, turning to the blond woman, who smiled shyly, “is Elanor. We serve her majesty, the Queen of Summer.”

“The Queen of Summer.” Her aching head dredged up a name and a face. “Titania. My...grandmother.”

“So our lady says.”

She glanced at the two figures, her voice almost sharp. “You don’t believe her?”

Elanor bowed her head. “Forgive us, Summer Lady. But the lady Una has been gone from the Summerlands for years and years.”

“It does not happen often,” Rose said, her eyes bright. “But the queen has been wrong before. Sometimes. Perhaps you are not her grand-daughter after all, but merely the by-blow of a Lord of Faerie who seduced a mortal woman and sired his get on her.”

“An…elf?” she asked weakly.

“Well, it would have to be an elf-lord, wouldn’t it?” Elanor said, her voice soft, though a thread of humor ran through it. “My lady is certainly not the daughter of a dwarf. You have no beard. And you are too tall to be the daughter of a halfling. And an orc, or one of the other races…” she trailed off, giving Rose a look.

“No,” Rose said firmly.

“No,” Elanor agreed.

Elves, dwarves, orcs…was this a book? Or one of those silly movies some of the other computer geeks at Maplethorpe were always nattering on about? Aurora fought down a wave of dizziness as they passed the boundaries of a small grove of trees. It stood at the bottom of a low, shallow valley. A stream, chattering on its bed of white stones, flowed through its center.

“Here we are, my lady.” Rose stopped. Under her feet, the grass was lush and green, the leaves of the trees red and bronze overhead as the last light of sunset faded from the sky. Above, the sky was a dark blue, almost black, and as she watched, the first stars appeared, startlingly bright and clear after years of living in a city where the constellations could seldom be seen, and even the light of the moon was washed-out and pale. “Your bower.”

“My what?”

“Where you will sleep,” Elanor said softly. She pointed to one side. Under a large, white-limbed birch tree, she could just make out the dim shapes of pillows and blankets.

She blinked. “Where is my bed?”

Rose looked at her as if she were dense. “On the ground, of course.”

“The ground?”

“Of course, the ground.” Rose’s voice was faintly mocking, and Aurora found her hands clenching into fists, wanting to slap the smirk off her too-perfect face. “Is that not good enough for my lady? Perhaps she wishes me to conjure up a herd of unicorns, whose spells will waft her up into the clouds, and where she will find herself a suitable bed for the evening.”

Something broke in Aurora. Hot, boiling anger, something she had never felt before, filled her mind. Without thinking, she took three steps forward, confronting Rose, whose eyes suddenly filled with fear.

“Rose. Flower-sprite. I know you.” She held up her hand, fingers spread. In the dim light, each tip seemed to flicker with phantom fire. “Are you so tired of life, that you would mock the Summer Lady to her face?”

Rose paled. “My lady.” Her voice was a whisper. “Forgive me.” She fell to her knees. “Please. Spare me.”

A thought, and the flames winked out, leaving them in darkness. “I will. For now.” Hiding the trembling in her stomach at her sudden display of power, unknown to her until that moment, she glanced at Elanor. The woman was visibly shaking. “My bed?”

“We all sleep on the ground, Summer Lady. Even your lady mother. But see.” Her words tumbled over each other as she sought to placate her. “We do not fear snakes and insects and crawling creatures.” She bent and rose with a blanket in her hands. A snap of her wrists, and it was spread on the ground. “It is wonderfully soft. No rocks, no stones, nothing to disturb your slumber. Better than a feather mattress, by my troth!”

She nodded, suddenly afraid. Who was she, to make these two women tremble in fear? “Very well.” With an effort she kept her voice from shaking. “What else?”

Rose climbed to her feet. Her voice, when she spoke, was much more respectful. “Does my lady desire…company…tonight?”

“Company?” she looked from one to the other blankly, then realization hit her and she blushed furiously. “No, thank you. I am really most incredibly weary.”

“As my lady wishes. We will disrobe you, then depart.”

“Do what?”

“We will disrobe you, my lady.” Elanor’s look was frank. “Surely you do not wish to sleep in those…things?” Her nose wrinkled adorably as she took in the ragged remains of her work clothes.

Aurora swallowed. Did they think her unable to undress herself? But perhaps, she thought, things were done differently here?

Hah. Everything is done differently here.

“I guess not.” She dropped her purse and her laptop carrier to the ground, where they fell with soft thumps. “Go ahead.”

The two sprites moved close. With nimble fingers they began to remove her clothes, Elanor undoing the ruined remnants of her blouse, baring her impossibly large chest, while Rose removed her belt from her slacks, tugging them, with some difficulty, past the burgeoning swell of her hips and to the forest floor.

“Goodness,” she said, kneeling back on her heels. “Have things changed so in the mortal realm? Are all clothes there so…drab now, my lady?” She wrinkled her nose at the slacks with distaste, then cocked her head at her plain cotton panties. “It is a wonder that the menfolk of that land can sire children, if all dress like this. What would drive them to desire their women?”

“Not…all,” she said faintly, as she felt Elanor tugging her panties down. It was only with difficulty that she was able to keep from covering herself with her hands. Somehow, she knew, such an action would be barely understood by the flower-sprites, and not approved of at all.

A finger trailed up her back, making her shiver. “Summer Lady,” Elanor whispered in her ear, her breath warm and sweet. “Thou art truly lovely. Art thou sure you do not wish for companionship this evening? Rose and I are lovers of long standing, and skilled in the pleasures of the body. It would be an honor to lie with you, who are returned to us at last.”

“No.” The word was too quick, too harsh, and she flushed with shame as Elanor bent her head in acquiescence. “I am sorry,” she said, more gently, “You are beautiful, truly. Both of you,” she added, glancing at Rose, who smiled with pride. “But this day has brought many changes, and I am very tired.”

“Good night then, my lady. And dream sweetly.” The two women waited until Aurora had laid down, then spread a blanket on top of her. It was warm, but surprisingly light, and she curled up on the ground, the grass softer than any mattress she had ever owned.

She was asleep in seconds.

Rose waited for bare moments after they had left the Summer Lady’s bower before she let her thoughts be known.

“That,” she said flatly, “is not a Queen of Summer.”

“Hsst!” Elanor said. “Are you mad? She’ll hear you!”

“Who? The Summer Lady?” Rose’s voice was laden with scorn. “What would she do if she did?”

“No. Her grandmother. Do you dare anger the Queen of Summer herself?”

That thought made even the quick-tempered Rose pause and close her mouth. Only the brave or the truly insane purposefully angered Titania. The Queen of Summer could be as kind as a summer day. But when roused, she could strike with the fury of a thunderstorm, and woe be it to any mere flower pixie who got in her way.

“Besides,” Elanor went on, her voice full of pity, “it’s obvious the poor girl is terrified. Even when she lost her temper with you, most of that was fear. Think on it, Rose. By the Queen’s own word, Lady Aurora has lived her entire life in the mortal realm. And now she has been pulled into the heart of Faerie itself. Did you see her face? She has no idea what is going on. You might as well hand an elf-lady a pick and shovel and tell her to go mine with the dwarves, or ask a troll to go outside his hole in the daytime.