Mike Wallace's Supernatural Bar & Grill 3: Sven's Tale
By The Wordmaster




It was another swinging party down at the old SB&G. We'd just bought a new mirrored disco ball, and the dance floor had been thumping with wildly gyrating forms all night. Between serving up drinks and shooting the breeze with my patrons, I gave the volume knob on our new stereo system a twist. Mike Wallace's follows a pretty standard rule regarding music: if the neighbors ain't callin' the cops, it ain't loud enough. I was in the middle of a particularly riotous joke (you know, the one about the nun, the rabbi, and the werewolf trying to flag down a taxi) when the door broke down.

Now, in some places this would cause quite a stir. Here at Mike's, it was at least a weekly occurence. I sighed and made a mental note to contact my carpenter, when I noticed the bar had gone eerily silent. I peered through the cigarrette-smoke filled air towards the door, just in time to see a massive form squeeze through the frame. Now that doorway is eight feet tall, but this hulking giant of a man had to turn sideways and duck and still had some trouble getting in.

This guy was big. I mean, he was big. He could've been Conan the Barbarian's high school gym teacher. He looked like Goliath's twin brother. On steroids. Clad in what appeared to be a bearskin loincloth with a massive two handed sword strapped to his back, this was obviously not someone to mess around with. A grim silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to stare at this beastly newcomer. Striding purposefully into the room, shouldering people aside, he maneuvered his way towards the bar. Heads swiveled to watch his glistening, oiled muscles flex in the light. He stopped suddenly, leveling his gaze on a table full of grinning cherubim. His deep, gravelly voice, tainted with just a hint of a Swedish accent, wiped the smiles off their faces.

"You..." he growled, pointing directly at the winged patrons. "Leave..." he clenched his hand into a fist. "NOW!" he thundered, bringing his bare fist down on the solid oak. The bar was suddenly minus one table and plus quite a bit of kindling. In a heartbeat, the bar was empty.

A grin lit the beast's face as he came closer to the bar. Spreading his arms wide, his grin turned into an all out chuckle, almost a giggle. "Mike!" he cried in a booming, boistrous voice, "Come here and give me a hug!"

I shook my head and backed up a step or two. "No thanks, Sven. My ribs are still bruised from the last time you came to visit." He carefully settled down on a barstool which creaked alarmingly (they have been known to break under his weight). I grabbed a frosted mug, poured a beer, and sent it down the bar. "How's college going?"

He drained the mug in one pull. Sighing contentedly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ah, y'know. Same old same old. Yale can be a tough place. Especially when people tend to speak in monosyllabic sentences for fear that your 'feeble barbarian brain' isn't quite as cognizant as their own." Seeing the blank look that graced my face, he grinned and dumbed it down a shade. "Folks think I'm dumb because I'm big."

"Well, don't worry, buddy. I'm sure they catch on fast. Now, if you don't mind, how about picking up after yourself?"

Sven grinned apologetically and began picking up the remnants of my table. "Sorry about the dramatic entrance, but I just wanted some time alone with my old roomie. How's your new place working out?"

"You're lookin' at it. I moved into the room upstairs so I could keep an eye on the booze supply. Too many midnight raids."

"Hey, that's rough."

"Are you kiddin'? It's a thousand times better than that hole in the wall apartment you had me livin' in."

"Hey, that place was plenty roomy!"

"Sure, maybe for two, but you had seven roomates crammed in there!"

"It cut down on rent, didn't it?"

"Sure, but I didn't appreciate sharing a bed with a clinically insane warlock who couldn't fall asleep unless he turned himself into a talking cat."

"Jerry? He was a fine roommate! I was stuck sharing my bed with Rob the zombie. You think a couple cat hairs in the sheets are something to cry about? Try waking up to a half-decomposed ear."

"Hey, remember the time we set Rob up with that mermaid chick and his tongue fell off right when they were kissing? That was classic!"

Sven erupted into thundering laughter which I joined in with immediately. We swapped stories for a bit, laughing and drinking the whole while. We were having a grand old time until trouble fell into Sven's lap. Literally.

I was retelling my favorite joke (the nun, the rabbi, and the werewolf again) when a drunken giggle interrupted me. It was far too high-pitched to come from Sven's barrel chest or even my eternally seventeen year old cracking voice. We peered about the room when the source was revealed. A scintillating, shimmering shape swooped clumsily down from the rafters towards the two of us. In mid-flight, trailing a glittering stream of dust, the form veered suddenly and plummeted directly into Sven. Rebounding off his rock-solid abs, the tiny being tumbled down. More giggling erupted from what we now realized was a tiny woman with beautiful butterfly wings. Staggering to her feet, she clumsily brushed her soft blonde hair from her face and beamed a radiant, though obviously wasted, smile.

"Hi!" she chirped. "I'm Priscilla!" She turned and craned her neck upwards to stare raptly at Sven. "You're cute! Wanna have sex?"

"Hello," my friend replied. "I'm Sven. You're drunk. And no, I don't"

She erupted into a fresh gale of laughter. "Aw, c'mon! I can make you very happy..." she said with a coy look, rubbing her hands along his thigh.

Sven cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Look, I don't know you, and you're obviously not yourself right now, so let's not do something you'll regret."

The little woman's face darkened. "Something I'll regret?" she began darkly. "What about something you'll regret?"

A look of confusion ran across Sven't chiseled features. "Like what?"

A sick smile appeared on Priscilla's lips. "Like this!" She ran her hand along her wing and came away with a palmful of pixie dust. Raising her cupped hand to her lips, she blew the dust upwards into Sven's face. Sven sneezed explosively, knocking the little pixie (that was what I finally decided she must be) off his lap and onto the floor. And that's when things got weird.

Sven began to dwindle, collapsing into himself. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the remnants of the dust, growing smaller all the while. When the shrinking stopped, Sven stood on the barstool, a mere half inch tall.

"Oh, shit!" I breathed. "Priscilla, what have you done? Grow him back!" I ordered.

Priscilla turned towards me, cupping another handful of dust. "Mike, if you know what's good for you..." she raised the dust warningly.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Allright, I'm gone. Just be careful with him, OK?" She nodded, smiling crookedly, and I beat a hasty retreat.

***

I squirmed uncomfortably in the grip of my giant captress, gaping at my enormous surroundings. I was tiny, thanks to that rather impulsive pixie, who at the moment was much less than pixie-ish. She held me in her hands, covering my frame in kisses. Her plush, pillowy lips covered every inch of my miniscule frame. "Priscilla," I began, "I really don't think mmf can mmf mmf through with thmmf" My words were muffled by her mouth pressing firmly against mine.

"You're so cute!" she giggled. Her giant fingertip traced its way down my body, lingering around my groin, tracing my loincloth. "Let's get naked!" she leered. In a flash, my loincloth was gone, and her already skimpy gown was on the floor. She pressed me to her bosom; two massive peaks of soft female flesh surrounded me. My mind raced quickly, estimating, calculating... I figured I was about six inches tall compared to her. Just the perfect size for... several things that made me very nervous.

She squeezed her breasts together, letting out a tinkling, musical laugh as the breath was crushed out of me. I gasped for air, thrashing about as best I could while pinned between the firm, yet yielding flesh of her breasts. She giggled more and exclaimed "That tickles!" I was lifted upwards and my face was pinned against her gigantic nipple. "Suck it, baby," she cooed. I did my best, snaking my tongue along the nipple that was very hard with excitement and far larger than my head. Moans of pleasure escaped her and she gripped my leg, trailing me downwards along the soft smoothness of her tummy. I was all to sure of what was coming next.

Sure enough, I glanced backwards to see her other hand prying apart her swollen, glistening vaginal lips. She spread her inner folds wide and thrust me inside. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst. The crushing muscles of her vagina alternately gripped me firmly and relaxed, pummeling me senseless. Her copious juices flowed around me, lubricating my thrashing body. I struggled against the overwhelming power of her womanhood, which had swallowed me completely. From outside, I heard muffled groans and shrieks as she approached orgasm. A final, bone crushing squeeze assailed me and I blacked out.

***

I stood outside my bar, waiting for Priscilla's fun time to be through. If there was one thing they oughta be teaching at Yale, it's that you don't refuse a horny pixie. I knew that, half my patrons knew that, and, after tonight, Sven knew that. I heard tiny shrieks coming from inside and knew everything would be over soon. Sure enough, Priscilla came fluttering through the window, somewhat flushed. She leaned towards me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was awfully quick," I stated.

"I go for quality, not quantity," she replied.

"You and every other woman. I, on the other hand..." I changed the subject upon seeing her frown. "So, is Sven..."

"Oh, I grew him back. That's quite a friend you've got there! Be sure to give him my number," she purred.

"Can do," I assured her. She flew off into the distance and I reentered my bar.

Sven lay moaning on the floor, covered in a thick, cloying substance that I immediately recognized. The scent of pussy filled the air. Not a bad aroma; perhaps I could start up an air freshener business. Plans for "Eau de Woman" played out in my head as I helped Sven to his feet.

"How ya feelin', buddy?"

Sven shook his head. "I could use a drink."

"That's the spirit!" I clapped him on the shoulder, than grimaced and wiped my hand on my pants leg. "Let's get you a nice cold one." Noticing the somewhat troubled expression Sven wore, I did my best to reassure him. "Hey, cheer up, buddy. Have you ever heard the one about the nun, the rabbi, and the werewolf?"



The End