Tia melds with the tree, her child sized form lost in the foliage. Below the branch mortal feet pass unawares. The elf's brown skin is bark, her ears thorns, her hair hanging moss. A cardinal alights on the curve of her bicep and they both watch the girl below with colored eyes. Patient as an elder at the young age of 92, Tia's stillness rivals the tree's. Stealth pays off when the human ducks down to pluck something. Even Tia' restraint is tested when she sees what the girl comes up with.
Elianda turns the mushroom about in her hands. 'It looks like the one the witch described,' though she reminds herself, 'with witches you can never know.' Dull brown eyes examine the bright colors of the fungus. They study the fringed gills on underside and even tally the spots. Unsure in the end – “only one way to know.”
The elf's excitement nearly sets her tree on fire. She licks her lips as she watches the mortal munch upon the mushroom. Sensing the elf's mood the little bird abandons its perch, with a call of alarm, 'wheet.. wheet.. wheet.' Tia barely spares an ear for anything but the scene below. The human like all of her species has no ear for the language of the wood, nor even an eye for the obvious. Squirrels, chipmunks and songbirds make spirited escapes warned of a predator lurking by their red feathered brother. “Oohhh this is good,” Tia hears the foolish trespasser purr. 'Just you wait,' the elf' thinks like leopard awaiting the pounce.
Tia's eyes follow the mortal through a woozy dance. Her hand goes to her fair forehead, faint inevitable. Cut across by moonlight the young lady collapses like a starlet, leaving a trail of shining dark hair. Only empty clothes followed by a half eaten mushroom hit the ground.
~~~
Twilight turns fronds into rows of gleaming swords. Below their blades, sobs effervesce – a sad champagne of sounds. She curls up on a leaflet like a larva, hair tangled, pale skin unprotected. A breath here and there; running between them, rivers of unrestrained saline. Tears fall light years through interstellar forest shade to strike the mushroom far below, undeniable evidence of the mortal's transgression. The imprints of female teeth do not lie, twas she who took the bite, though now the trenches of her former molars might cup her head to toe. Tears strike the shroom's sticky foam skin and run down its broken stalk. The mushroom meant to save her brother has cursed her instead.
'For such a crime... for my brother.. I don't deserve...' As she thinks of her younger sibling, flesh rotted by the ravages of unknown disease, she curses the witch. How could even a crone be so cruel 'You told me, you told me..' Shadow stops everything. Leaves freeze, birds become floating feathered statues, a flyby-gnat's arm length wings hold still as a star barber's glass razors. Elianda cranes her head to behold pink sky – 'wait not sky but iris.'
The earth tone elf stood, overwhelmed by mortal stupidity and her own good fortune. A head shake causes her short curls to jounce, a nose wriggle completes the cuteness. Bending over flares opens the petals of her leaf-skirt around her tan little rump. Mushroom in her hand and disappointment in her eyes she rises back over top the mortal. Once no taller than her own kind's children, magic has made her a sylvan Goddess, an offended sylvan Goddess. A pendulum finger admonishes the little mortal, 'enchanted food isn't for humans.' Her eye crashes down once more like a meteor and her tiny prey falls into a fetal position under its psychic weight.
Then all turns from pink to peach. A cave of warm soft flesh, walls etched in crinkled lines. Sudden light dazzles the tiny mortal as the fingers flip open. Sky's no longer eye but mouth. Sweet red lips enunciate clearly, popping syllables like boulders. “Now {b}you're{/b} are enchanted, human.” A sniff confirms the mysterious scent of magic and pulls Elianda off her feet. A few tumbles land her against wet, waiting walls. “...which means you're food... for me.” Pink muscle sweeps out grabbing greedily at the girl's tiny exposed breasts. Hooked about her chest in the most unmannerly fashion, the tongue drags in its terrified victim.
“Please No!, Pleeeaaase Aaaaaaeee...” The elf's mouth drowns her voice in warm spittle. Soft squishing membranes slime up her like a pair of mating snails. Kicking her legs in the air she feels suction combine with gravity. Elven lips expand around her hips and slip leisurely down her long rebellious legs. Beneath her back the elf's wet muscle ripples sensually. Elianda resists the sickening pleasure of the tongue's embrace as the elf's lips pucker at on her toes.
The freckled fairy's sealed mouth muffles the swishing and screaming as she has her way with the little person. A female shaped bulge molds her cheek with life or death struggles. Then the tongue banishes it from sight.
'Oh my God, oh my God..' Elianda's fighting fingers depress dimples in the soft tongue. Its slickness eludes her grip and she slides backward. She wiggles her toes over a warm updrafting pit. “Please!!! no!!” The gulp is like an ocean liners's under-tow. All is a dark constricting wetness. Elianda squirms and screams but the elf's esophagus shows less mercy than its owner. Her naked little body is forced stiff by the relentless pressing of membrane. Then a change, another pair of lips, circular and slimy, sucking at her head. Pinching here and there in a soft sticky embrace the sphincter works her through.
Tia rubs her belly. Normally flat, it now perks out daintily, belly button dilated. “Mmmmm, I just love humans.” Her burp, a cloud of glitter, interrupts the nearby bird song. “Tastes like magic.”