by Logan Jacobs
The pixie woman glanced back over her shoulder and gave me a perplexed look.
“She was hibernating,” Ahwara explained. “When we go into our cocoons for the Winter’s Sleep, we isolate ourselves away from each other. All of us split up, find a secluded spot on the island, and then build our cocoons in peace.”
“That seems somewhat dangerous,” Sela noted skeptically. “If you’re all the way on opposite sides of the island, doesn’t that lessen the odds for your survival? A single person could be easily overwhelmed by a small horde of enemies or a large creature.”
“As strange as it may sound,” the red-haired Zerandrie interjected, “it actually increases our chances of survival as a species. Sure, one of us might be killed here or there, but it’s only one.”
“Well, that’s macabre…” I whistled.
“When we hibernate, we are helpless,” Ahwara clarified. “If we did it as a group, it would only take one hungry hopper or a bad storm to take our entire tribe out. That’s why we hibernate far away from each other, and then we all meet back at the beach when we awaken, just when the time of great fertility begins.”
“That’s usually when the men show up, too,” Holara added as she brushed a large fern out of her path. “But, obviously, they didn’t show up this year. Ya know… because they’re dead.”
“So, I guess I shall be the one to ask the awkward question,” Jonas interjected. “Arrick, you might want to close your ears for this one.”
Arrick made a disgusted face at the soothsayer, though he obeyed the elder. He put his hands up against his pointed ears and began to make a clicking noise with his tongue to drown out anything that was possibly said.
“A bit overkill, son,” I chuckled and patted the boy on the shoulder.
“Oh,” Arrick muttered as he ceased his tongue sounds. “Right.”
“If you have this ‘time of great fertility’ every year,” Jonas pondered aloud, “then where are your children?”
All of the Morpho women stopped walking and looked at the soothsayer. I didn’t know what they were about to say, but it was pretty obvious Jonas’ comment had touched some sort of nerve.
“We… We don’t know,” Ahwara sighed. “Aside from Queen Dalwen, we are all fairly young, only a few dozen season cycles. However, our queen has told us bearing children never used to be a problem at all.”
“So, then what happened?” I questioned. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
“We aren’t sure what changed.” The pixie with pink wings looked down sadly. “For a long while we thought our great god, Cacoo, was punishing us with infertility. Dalwen believes it has something to do with the crops on the surrounding islands.”
“What would crops have to do with fertility?” I continued.
“All that Queen Dalwen knows is long ago, the crops on the islands around here had varying success as far as their yields,” Ahwara explained. “It would honestly just depend on what the seasons brought along with them. But then something strange happened… The men began to report they were finding fruits and vegetables laid out in large squares of dirt, sometimes hundreds of feet wide. Even weirder is the fact that, according to the men, the yields became prosperous every single season, no matter what the weather was like.”
“Gardens.” I frowned. “Gardens that were probably covered with fertilizer. Did your men eat from these ‘fruit and vegetable squares?’”
“Of course, they did,” Ahwara mused, “they’d be foolish not to take advantage of such a bountiful harvest.”
“I think I might already know the answer,” I admitted, “but did they happen to wash those things before they consumed them?”
“Why would you wash them?” The Morpho leader raised an eyebrow. “They are natural items, so we always consumed them naturally.”
“If the orcs were using chemical fertilizers, they most certainly weren’t natural,” I explained. “Putting a bunch of that shit in your body is a recipe for disaster. It’s been known to cause cancer, deoxygenation of the blood, and, most importantly, infertility.”
The butterfly women stared at me blankly.
“Are you trying to tell us the men became sterile because they ate some fruit?” Ahwara seemed skeptical.
“I believe it,” Candara spoke up. “Like I always say, anything you cannot find naturally out in the forest is bad news.”
“It would take some time,” I clarified, “but if they were consuming small amounts of these fertilized crops for years, it could have slowly crept into their systems until it created a noticeable problem.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore!” Holara declared, and the violet-haired woman spun in a circle with her arms out. “Dead people can’t father children, either, so it’s not like we’re any worse off than we were before. Now, we just don’t have to pretend to enjoy it once a season cycle.”
“Ewwwwww.” Arrick gagged.
So much for covering his ears.
Still, I was halfway tempted to take this opportunity to offer myself to these beautiful butterfly women. They all seemed to want children, but their men were cursed with the disease of infertility. However, I knew from experience that I wasn’t. If they wanted me to, I could impregnate each and every one of the Morphos and help them get their tribe to grow.
Then there was the fact they claimed they’d never been satisfied by a man before. If I were their lover, that definitely would not be the case.
Still, now was not the right time. They’d just had their world turned upside down by our revelations, and they were laser-focused on the missions at hand. We had to awaken their queen and bond them with their former mates’ dragons.
Then maybe we could have some celebratory fun…
My pulse quickened at the thought of any of these small, Morpho women rolling around in bed with me, but the voice of Jonas quickly snapped me back to reality and put a damper on my daydreaming.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” the soothsayer interjected, “what is the history of your people? Have you always lived on this island? Are there more of you out there somewhere?”
“The five of us you see before you are the only Morpho who live on this island,” Ahwara explained. “Surely, there are more of our people out there, but we wouldn’t really know. Our people are highly territorial, so we try to stay one tribe per island and completely out of each other’s ways.”
“How is that possible?” Mira questioned. “We’ve been to several of the surrounding islands, and we’ve never encountered anyone like you before.”
Candara looked back over her shoulder with a playful glimmer in her red eyes.
“That’s because they didn’t want you to find them,” she giggled.
“Nonsense,” Nadir grumbled. “If there were Morphos on our home island, we would have sniffed them out.”
“Don’t be too sure about that, dear.” Candara smiled airily. “You only found us here because we came down to watch the village get washed away and then decided to confront you. If we hadn’t, you’d still think this island was completely abandoned…”
“We know it’s not abandoned,” I countered as I swatted a mosquito on my arm. “It’s got plenty of bugs. Now, what I want to know is why you came down to watch your men’s village wash away. You guys are all acting like it’s not a big deal that it’s gone. In fact, it’s starting to feel like you were all watching it as a form of entertainment.”
“That’s because we were!” The blue-haired Elzara smiled widely. “We all had wagers on when the old place was finally going to fall down, so we come out here every time there’s a storm to see if it can withstand the intense winds.”
“That reminds me,” Holara noted, “you all owe me five pinalra flowers.”
“I still say it doesn’t count,” the soft-spoke Zerandrie said under her breath. “None of them would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Ben and his crew running around up there.”
“Well, we may never know.” The purp
le-haired Morpho woman shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out of a wager, now.”
“That was never even on my mind,” Zerandrie retorted. “I just wanted to let it be known I think it’s a bunch of parsnips.”
“Wow…” Ahwara smiled. “Little Zerandrie’s being spunky today.”
“I didn’t even know she could swear like that!” Holara added as she slapped her leader on the shoulder. “Usually she’s just muttering to herself.”
“So, are we going to talk about how you’re just… okay with entire villages being washed away?” Jemma interrupted with a raised finger.
“There’s not much to talk about.” Ahwara shrugged. “None of our villages are ever meant to be permanent. We usually go through two or three in a single season cycle, at least.”
“Why are they so flimsy?” I asked. “I could easily show you how to create building materials that are way more durable, and that could last you for several years.”
“There’s no need for that.” The orange-haired woman shook her head. “We have an unlimited supply of building materials in the form of our own silk.”
“You--You produce silk?” I gasped as my mouth fell agape.
“We do.” Candara grinned, and she twirled a lock of golden hair around her finger. “What do you think all of our clothes are made out of?”
“So, you essentially create whole villages using nothing but your own cocoon silk…” I trailed off. “No wonder the structures are so flimsy.”
“You say ‘flimsy,’” Ahwara retorted, “I say ‘lightweight.’ Do you have any idea how much weight a Gigantes Ceiba leaf can handle? Because it’s not a lot. Our villages are light, temporary, and completely disappear into the ground in less than two moon cycles. They’re perfect for our way of life.”
“You’re very into the naturally-made stuff, aren’t you?” I asked the Morphos playfully.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Ahwara admitted with a frown.
“I’m just saying… It looks like everything you own is made from a raw product,” I tried to elaborate. “I’m not seeing any concrete or iron or stone or anything that’s been modified whatsoever.”
“Modifying Cacoo’s beautiful resources is against our way of life!” Elzara gasped as if I’d just suggested they all become cannibals. “We are only allowed to use the materials we are given by our great Monarch God, in their most pure form.”
Oh, this was going to be a problem. I wonder if they’d all flip their shit when they saw our ship for the first time? Or even some of our weapons?
“That explains your weapons,” Sela chuckled to herself. “What are they, anyways? Bone and leather?”
Ahwara gave the mossy-scaled dragonkin woman a sideways glance as she pursed her lips, and I honestly wasn’t sure she knew what “leather” even was.
“It’s riverlizard skin,” the pixie with orange hair answered at length. “We cut it right off the animal after we kill it, stretch it out, and then attach the finger bones of a nightwatcher.”
“A nightwatcher?” I shuddered as my mind came up with all sorts of possibilities as to what the name could mean.
“Large creatures that only come out at night,” Holara explained. “They have wings like us, only they are about triple our size. Also, they have large, curved ears and a nose that’s flat against their face.”
Bats. The violet-haired pixie was talking about giant bats.
“Apparently, it took the Morpho people hundreds of season cycles to kill a nightwatcher for the first time,” Ahwara elaborated. “However, once the first one was down and they could create some weapons, it grew easier and easier as time passed. At least, that’s what Queen Dalwen always told us.”
“Why bones, though?” Lezan interjected. “Wouldn’t stone be much stronger, but still natural?”
“I forgot you haven’t seen us fight yet.” The blue-winged pixie smiled with pride. “Stone may be strong, but it is heavy and hard to shape. Using bone as the primary blade material lets us dance around our opponent and deliver swift, deadly strikes without slowing us down.”
“Eh.” The multicolor-haired racoon woman shrugged and clearly wasn’t impressed. “I’ve never enjoyed letting them bleed out from a thousand cuts. I’d much rather just go straight in for the jugular.”
“Literally, in some cases,” I added with a hearty chuckle.
“I know it might be rude to ask this…” Jonas turned the course of the conversation once again. “But how old is your queen, anyway? You make it sound like she has been around for many, many ‘season cycles,’ but you have only been around for a few dozen?”
“It’s not rude if she never finds out.” Ahwara flashed the soothsayer a half-smile. “Queen Dalwen has never revealed her true age, but she has often said she was around back when the ‘Isle of the Dragons,’ as you call it, was nothing more than a small hill rising out of the ocean.”
“That would make her thousands of years old, at least…” I gasped at the thought. “Why is there such a discrepancy between your ages?”
“I can answer that one!” Elzara interjected as she jumped up and down, and she was so excited she hovered a few inches off the ground on her wings. “When a group of Morphos decide to split off from their tribe and start their own, the queen comes along to supervise and show them the ropes. She stays with them for many, many season cycles, until she thinks they are good enough to thrive on their own.”
“Dalwen has been with us for a very long time.” Zerandrie hung her head in shame. “Mainly because we haven’t been able to reproduce. It’s hard for a population to thrive if it can’t even create a second generation of descendants…”
“It’s not your fault,” I promised the frail Morpho. “Once you’re part of our crew, your race will thrive once more. Just ask any of these women.”
“It’s true.” Sela nodded. “The dragonkin population was looking dire for quite some time, but thankfully, that all changed when Ben showed up. Now, I have two little ones waiting for me back home.”
“Same here,” the auburn-haired Jemma added, and she gently cupped her still flat belly. “I know I’m not really showing yet, but I’m currently with child.”
“As are Lezan and I.” Nadir pointed back and forth between her friend and herself. “We have clever little babies in our tummies.”
“Really?” Ahwara’s orange eyes lit up with hope. “What exactly changed when he arrived? Please, share with us your secrets.”
A sudden warmth crept up into my cheeks, so I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly as I looked around at nothing. When nobody spoke up, the Morpho women became impatient.
“What’s wrong?” Holara demanded, and the purple-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there something you’re not telling us? How have all of your populations grown since Benjamin Whitfield became your leader?”
“Well…” Jemma chuckled. “He’s the father.”
“We know he’s a father.” Candara raised an eyebrow and pointed at Arrick. “His son is right there.”
“No, no…” the Niralope woman tried again. “Ben is the father of Arrick, as well as the father of my child. And Nadir’s. And Lezan’s. And Sela’s. And three more women back on our island.”
“He--He’s impregnated all of you?” Ahwara gasped as disbelief rose up onto her face. “How is that even possible?”
“His seed is strong,” Nadir put forth. “Plus, he’s an amazing lover. We’ve all slept with him so many times, and he fills us with so much good creamy sperm, so he was bound to get us pregnant quickly. So, he did.”
“Wow…” Elzara trailed off, and the blue-haired Morpho’s thoughts were definitely elsewhere as she stared off into the distance. Her thin mouth hung open faintly, though the beginnings of a smile crept up the corners. Her eyes were practically glowing, too, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about the prospect of my cock sliding into her pussy.
“Still…” Ahwara continued as her eyes darted over
to me, “is that even physically possible? Morpho men store up their seed all season cycle and then only experience the bliss of mating once. Then they’re all empty, and they have to go back and recharge for another season cycle.”
Morpho men only got to have one orgasm a year? Damn, now I felt sorry for those poor bastards.
“I don’t have that problem,” I reassured the pixie-haired woman.
“It’s true,” Sela purred. “Just last night Ben was able to ejaculate his seed three times in a single hour-long session.”
“Oh, come on!” Arrick gagged before he threw out his arms angrily.
“Sorry,” Sela chuckled. “Forgot you were there.”
“So, he can do it… three times in an hour and whenever he wants?” Elzara finally broke out of her trance. “Like, anytime, anywhere, and any place?”
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” Ahwara warned, “we’ve still got a long way to go before we can catch our breath and celebrate. The castle is still a good ways away, and if you haven’t noticed, the clouds are starting to form in the sky. I was hoping we would get there before the next big storm hit, but now I’m starting to wonder if--”
Before the Morpho leader could finish her sentence, a deep, ground-rumbling bellow shook the forest around us. It sounded like a loud burp, mixed with the baritone buzz of a mosquito’s wings.
Instantly, all of the Morpho women froze in terror. Then they rushed over to a bunch of nearby trees, pressed themselves up against the trunks as flat as they could go, and motioned for us to do the same.
We all ran over, mirrored their actions, and then held our breaths as we waited for the creature who had just made the noise.
And we didn’t have to wait for long.
Soon, a lumbering beast shuffled through the brush and stepped out into the small clearing before us.
It must have been close to twelve feet tall, as it was double the size of any of us, and the creature’s gross skin was a slimy greenish-brown covered with warts, corns, and unidentified bumps of all sorts. The beast’s figure was like an upside-down egg, where the head was thick and bulbous but its waist was narrow, and its eyes sat nearly three feet apart on its head and were held up by thin stems that allowed it to move each one independently from the other.
