Oh my…
I try and stick the end of my tongue into the bottle, but it’s a pointless endeavor. I take a tiny sip. It’s bitter, sweet, and putrid as I place the cord around my neck. A moment passes as I note The Spider getting larger and larger. “Oh, my God! I’m shrinking!”
The Spider cracks open her eyes and grins. The glimmer of her fang causes my panic, and I run across the room, which is quite very far away now.
Feeling lost in the changes, I acknowledge they’re more than just on the surface. They’re deep, bringing about a genuine uncertainty to my psyche. I need to embrace the past, present, and future.
My head pounds as I glance in the mirror. With curls in my hair and pristinely applied makeup, I don’t resemble myself at all anymore. I’m almost…beautiful.
I like the color of lipstick the Glam Squad Stingers chose. It’s a subtle red that pops my blue eyes. Accidentally touching the glass, I push my finger easily through the mirror, and water begins to fill the room.
“Oh no! No! No!” I scream as The Spider skyrockets up the wall, and a mouse behind her leg flies towards the door. “Wait on me!”
I leap onto the back of the mouse as he squeaks, “A proper introduction would’ve been nice before you decided to ride me!”
“Hmph...” I hold on tight as the water rises under his short legs. His heavy accent perplexed my sensibilities, which were already being vigorously tested. “You aren’t very nice.”
“I don’t have to be nice,” he counters, mere inches from exiting the door. “We’re going to drown!”
“That’s no excuse to be rude!”
“My name is Pierre,” he mentions as we float out into the garden. Through the rough current, Pierre swims with all his might. The flood must be a common occurrence as we whirl into the dipping lowlands and the flowing river.
“I’m Lys…”
“Try again, sweetheart,” he balks with his difficult to understand voice. “You ain’t a Lys. And you never were.”
With a diminishing hope, I mumble, “This day is going to be sovery long.”
Peeking an eye open, I spot no signs of Pierre by the swollen river. Darkness surrounds the area, but there are fluffy pink clouds in the distance. I fluff the pillow beneath my head and want to go back to sleep. I’m warm and dry and wrapped up in a cushy nest. I roll over onto my back only to see the giant nostril. My eyes flare wide with a sudden fear.
“Don’t snort me!” I vehemently protest, sitting up and realizing for the first time that I don’t want to die. “Please!”
“I’m not going to snort you, darlin’.” The darkness in his voice sends a shiver through me. His long lashes blink to reveal a dreamy pair of juniper colored eyes lined with pistachio. They are entrancing. “I see The Spider got you with her trickery.”
Another pair of cerulean eyes peer at me. “You should eat this.”
He puts a crumb in my hands. “What is it?”
“Trust us,” they say in unison. I notice their backpacks, laying heavy and full against the tree trunk. They must be vagrants or criminals or complete misfits—just my type.
“We got you,” sad blue eyes assures. “I promise.”
I take a nibble of the blueberry and lemon cake. It is so heavenly that I could eat the entire thing. I lick the glaze from my fingers as my green-eyed God lowers his hand to the ground. I loudly—embarrassingly—burp. “Sorry I was hungry.”
“How long does this take?” blue eyes asks.
“Not very…it’s a curious thing.”
A few seconds pass until the rumble inside of my heart forces my growth. “Oh my!” I go up, up, up until I’m twice the size of the two men. “Shit!”
“Take a sip.”
“But it tastes terrible, and I’m just going to want to eat more cake,” I argue. “I can’t keep going up and down like this. Well, I could, but it’s a bit silly.” The darker haired man with the green eyes shoves a piece of cake in his mouth. I panic and scream, “No!”
“Don’t worry. It won’t affect me. I live in The Darkland.”
“… Live?” I question, leaning my head. “Here?”
“We’re full-time residents,” the platinum God with the captivating blue eyes informs. “Even though we’re in hiding.”
The vial is more of a small flask now, and I’m careful only to take a small sip. I make a terrible face at the horrific taste and shrink back to a reasonable size. “My mouth tastes like…”
I’m interrupted by the raven-haired man laying a tongue lashing on me. His lips and tongue taste like lemon drops with a blueberry center as I swoop my own against him. I don’t want ever to stop kissing him as I lay my hands on his shoulders, and he wraps his arms around my waist.
He breaks the lip lock and questions, “Better?”
I run my tongue over my lip, no longer tasting the shitwater, but missing his mouth. “Uh huh,” I stutter out, smitten by the captivating kiss. “Thank you.” I blush as the warmth permeates through my being. Finally, I am able to take a good look at the two. They are decadently gorgeous as I feel myself dampening with an insatiable lust. “What is happening to me?”
“You’re growing up, El,” blue eyes says, and I smile at the nickname.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Twig,” he says, tossing his golden locks back. His thin, muscular build catches my attention. “And he’s Sig.”
“Are you…twins…friends…lovers?”
“Not…in the traditional sense,” Sig replies, stroking his goatee, as I notice his sinewy forearms and hard guns. “Think of us as co-conspirators.”
“We come as a pair or not at all.”
The way he says the word come sends a wave of longing through me. My skin flutters with the thought of these two having their way with my body and each other.
What is wrong with me? I don’t ever think this way. I ponder ways to mutilate and maim, not misbehave by making love. I sit on a rock as I try and comprehend everything that has happened. I’m just another unfortunate soul who is lost in a weird world.
“Ugh!” I randomly moan out. I can feel their salacious stares upon me as I imagine myself naked, and they’re fighting for the attention of my mouth. Closing my eyes, I flick out my tongue and drift off to a place where I am fulfilled by love. So much love.
I blink to find them making out, these two beautiful creatures in this strange place. My teeth snap against my lip hard—harder, until I bruise the tender flesh. My hand skirts down, between my legs, and I rub, succumbing to the desire.
“You want to fuck me?”
The words fall from my mouth, and I cannot even believe I said them. With Sig’s hands pressed against Twig’s cheeks, he breaks away from the kiss and says, “We can’t. You’re being saved for the victory festival after you destroy the oppression.”
“… What?”
“You are the Ellison,” Twig reiterates, walking closer to me. He brushes his hand over my thighs. “And we will worship you.”
He kneels and breathes warm air against my starving lips. I want him to rip the fabric away and pledge his devout faith in me. I’ll declare him a saint and his little…big, so big… friend, too. Sig strokes his beard as his devious eyes scan over me. “You’re almost ready.”
With Twig working some blissful magic on my nether region, I stutter, “I…am…not…ready…for…anything.” My fingers twist into his shoulders as I grind against the rock. “Except for one of you boys to do me.”
“It’s an impossible task,” Sig replies, almost upset over the rule. “We can’t.”
“If I am the Ellison, I am telling you—you can.”
“But you are sworn to be chaste, you proclaimed it as a child,” Sig informs, though I for the life of me, I do not ever remember enacting such a heinous law. “You will choose an appropriate suitor when the oppression falls.”
“What is this oppression?”
“The Darklands,” Twig whispers, running his eager finger over my slit.
“We’ve been forced to obey your laws for years.”
“I didn’t make any laws!” I raise my hands up as nothing makes sense. “I’m not your commander or president or ruler! I’m a chronically depressed, sociopathic killer!”
“Yes,” Sig surprisingly agrees. “And it’s manifested in the outlandish rules of the castle, trickled out amongst the residents, and observed as the gospel.”
I begin to grasp what he’s saying. I’m a terrible person if I’ve done all the things they say. Guilt riddles my every emotion, cinching my heart in a noose. “… So, my issues have controlled this place?”
“Yes, Ellison.”
I lower my head, feeling terrible about the things I’ve done. I had no clue my actions were causing such pain among so many. “But why are you in hiding?”
“Because The Evil Queen won’t let us partake of any…activities,” Twig informs, peering up at me. His eyes are so blue, like an ocean I want to drown in.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been banned from the castle for our unsavory activities,” Sig adds, cracking his knuckles. He runs his fingers through Twig’s hair, and I can see the love between them. “We’ve been forced to hide for years.”
“Because I’ve been neglecting my issues?”
“Something like that,” Twig says, standing up. “If you’re here, you can take over the kingdom.”
I shake my head and spread my legs wide. “Then, as my first act, I command you to fuck me.”
Beneath a grin, Sig chuckles. “It isn’t that easy. If we’re caught, The Queen will behead us.”
“… Which head?”
Twig snickers as Sig rolls his eyes. “The important one.”
“They’re both important,” Twig mutters. “She doesn’t have a preference.”
“One more so for my survival.”
“Debatable,” Twig contends. “We’ve been watching The Queen carry on for years. Those she has caught committing criminal acts are either beheaded or forced to serve her…after a modification.”
“Modification?”
“She castrates those she views as warped,” Sig mentions. “Only the stones from the overly pretty, buff, or brawn.”
“Or academic,” Twig says. “No one can be smarter than The Queen.”
“Then, she demands complete servitude to her needs.”
A paralyzing shock runs through me. These two gorgeous guys are on the run to save their nuts. “You can’t be serious. I’ve crippled the kingdom.”
“In a nutshell,” Twig chuckles.
They’ve done so much for me I feel as though I must help them. “You are Ellison.” Sig says the words like I’m supposed to be the heroine to save the day. “Everything will be good soon.”
“What does my being Ellison have to do with anything?”
A loud, high-pitched squeal fills my ears as a young woman in a black corset trimmed with red appears. Bitch got the black boots I wanted. The thigh-highs look fucking fantastic on her shapely legs. Her dark chocolate hair is the thing of little girl dreams as it swishes against the curve of her ass. “She is here! The Ellison!”
I’m slightly offended by her presence. I had the two hunks to myself until she showed up, but I have zero chance with them now. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m The Mistress of Sig and Twig,” she eagerly says, taking my hands in hers. Oh, great …she’s sweet and kind, too. Not to mention the size of her glorious, heaving bosom sets hearts aflutter. “They belong to me.” I note the boy’s protective stance behind her hourglass frame. Sig crosses his thick arms and lifts a brow as Twig rocks on his feet in canvas shoes. I spot Sig’s bare feet.
“Why are you, barefooted?” I inquire.
“Because I like to ground my reckless spirit,” he honestly answers. “And I run faster.”
“Sorry I’m late,” another man says. “I got caught up losing the Jackoffwackit.”
“… The what?”
The Mistress sighs. “Zig, you really mustn’t toy with those beasts. You barely made it out alive when the Vagbeast came after you!”
“Yeah, her teeth are fucking scary,” he replies, dive-bombing for the luscious-looking cake. My mouth waters as he grabs an entire piece. “But I’m here now.” He crams the cake into his mouth like he’s been starved. With a mouthful of the tasty goodness, he garbles, “Who is she?”
“The Ellison,” they collectively reply.
“So, where do you reside?” I ask.
“We live in the shadows, in the underground,” The Mistress conveys, running her delicate finger over my skin. “We do our best to avoid being caught by her minions, but sometimes we lose.”
“Where is Zag?”
“He’s coming,” Zig says. Their banter dwindles to background noise as I’m mesmerized by The Mistress’ blue-violet eyes.
“You’re our savior, Ellison,” she whispers, pressing her lips to mine. “You’re the only one who can reunite these ravaged lands.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You must battle The Queen and reclaim your mind as your own. Her invasion has altered the shape of your existence and the way things ought to have been.”
“… And if I lose?”
“You have nothing to lose anymore, Ellison. You handed your soul over to the darkness long ago, and you’re the only one who can save yourself.” I notice four more men just as divine as Sig and Twig. “You need to go to the castle.”
“Where do I begin?”
“Pick one of my servants to escort you there,” she offers, turning towards them. “But, I will only let one go.”
This is worse than picking a favorite book. “How will I choose?”
From her pocket, she pulls out a long strip of black silk. “The only way—with a blindfolded kissing test!”
She wraps the fabric around my head and guides me from the rock as I prepare to kiss the seven. The Mistress declares a number to each man.
One after the other, I endure the absolute torture of their lips. By the time I reach number seven, my body tingles with radiant fire. I secretly want to command each one to stick something inside of me other than their tongue.
The Darkland is making me such a nympho.
Removing the blindfold, she asks, “Which one wins?”
It seems so unfair that only one can win. “Numbers one, four, and seven were the best.”
She taps her foot with growing irritation. “Decide, Ellison.”
I pace past the men as they flirtatiously smile and wink, not that their innuendos will do me much good. “If this place is mine, why can’t I take them all…and you?”
“She has a point.”
“Hush, Big!” she scolds. “Don’t confuse the poor girl.”
“The poor, poor girl is already confused,” Zig mumbles with a mouthful of cake. I think he was number three.
“And if it matters, I want your boots, Mistress.”
She lifts a brow. “My boots?”
“Most people say they want her boobs,” Zig adds as I giggle. “Though her boots are pretty awesome.”
“Pick Ellison.”
“Give me two men and the boots, or I’ll become your worst enemy.”
Licking his fingers, Zig booms, “That’s fucking hot!”
“Zig!” The Mistress yells, raising a flat hand. “Stop! Don’t encourage her!”
“She’s already been encouraged,” Twig adds, sitting on the ground. “She’s making out with us. Give her the boots and two.”
I smile at Twig, wishing I knew which number he was.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she looks to Sig for an answer. He smirks and says, “She runs the joint.”
“Dammit!” The Mistress complains and leans against the rock. Her boots thud to the ground. “If you hurt me…”
“I’ll put you in the castle,” I whisper a promise. “With all of your boys.”
“Which two are you taking?”
Suddenly, a rustling from the bushes draws
our attention as Whit appears. “You’re going to be late, Ellison.”
“I thought I lost you!”
“You can never lose me,” Whit informs, scanning over The Mistress’ bare-chested eye candy as I wiggle off the white boots and ease on the sinfully sexy black ones. “What are you doing?”
“Picking two boys from the kissing test.”
He gives a devilish grin and leans closer. His lips soar over mine with evident dedication and loyalty. His kiss controls the rhythm of my heart. With our tongues slipping and swirling against one another, I find the courage to briefly drop the innocence and whisper, “I want Whit. And numbers three and four.”
Zig isn’t one of the best kissers, but I need his blunt honesty to stand a chance against the tyranny of my subconscious. The best was four and seven.
“Twig, Zag, Dig, Jig, and Big, you will return with me,” The Mistress informs as I note the intense gaze of Sig. “Zig and Sig, you will escort Ellison to the castle.” She quickly moves to passionately kiss them. I can tell she favors Sig. I cannot blame her, but I’m still choosing him. She latches her arm around Twig.
“Wait…” I step in front of them. “You were seven.”
“I’m always lucky.” Twig winks. “Safe travels, Ellison.”
“You’re taking entirely too much time,” Whit whines as the beautiful ones walk towards the shadowy forest. “Long goodbyes are for the weak.”
“Twig!” I run as fast as I can and leap into his arms. “Will I see you again when all of this is over?”
“Of course,” he reassures, holding me close. “But, you’re in excellent hands.”
“… And if it all falls apart?”
“I’ll meet you on the other side of tomorrow.” His vibrant energy sings through my soul, and I worry I’ve made a mistake as he sets me on my feet. “You’ve got demons to battle.” His finger runs over my lips. “Go!”
I pivot back to Sig and Zig. “Where did Whit go?”
“He never listens,” Zig says, munching on more cake. “He’s always running off somewhere.”
The quietness of Sig disturbs me like I’ve done something wrong in my selection. He stares at The Mistress and her Merrymen until he can no longer see them. “I’m sorry.”
Madness Page 4
