Happy Ever After

by Selena Kitt

  She gathered her clothing from the floor and put it back on as best she could. Her hands shook, and she fought back tears. She couldn’t stay here, not anymore. Finn loved someone else, and she could never gain his love for herself. There might be two days remaining of the seven the Sea Witch had given her, but as far as Ariana was concerned, her time was up. She would turn to foam, as the Sea Witch had predicted, and would never see her family again.

  Once dressed, she slipped out of the apartment. It was best to leave while Finn was in the shower; he might try to stop her otherwise. But there was nothing left for her, no reason to stay with him. She had come here for love, but he had none for her. Her heart was broken, and she felt her body failing her. With Finn’s denial of her love, her time had indeed ended.

  Fortunately, in their evening walks, Finn had shown her how to get from his apartment to the harbor. She walked straight there, ignoring the looks from passers-by and the catcalls she heard from some of the men. At the edge of the water, she hesitated. This was the end for her, she knew. Mermaids had no souls; there was nothing beyond death.

  She was about to dive into the water when she heard singing a distance away. She looked out into the harbor and saw her sisters, all missing their beautiful hair. Stunned, she waved to them, and they swam closer. “Dear sister,” the eldest said, “we’ve been searching for you. Father was so saddened when you didn’t return!”

  “We went to the Sea Witch, and she told us what you’d done,” the next said. “We made her tell us where you were.”

  “We gave her our hair to save you,” the third told her. “She told us of a way that you can regain your true form and not crumble to sea foam if you do not win the love of the man.”

  “You’ve already failed to win his love, haven’t you?” asked the fourth, who had always been close to Ariana and recognized the sadness on her face. Ariana nodded. “Then in two days’ time, you will die if you do not do as we say,” her sister said.

  The fifth sister swam right up to the platform on which Ariana stood and held up a sharp knife. “The Sea Witch told us that your man has a true love,” she said. “If you can find them together and run this knife through their hearts, you will be restored to your true self and will be able to return home.”

  “But you must do so tonight,” the eldest said. “Go now. We’ll wait for you here.”

  Ariana took the knife from her sister and turned it over in her hands. Stab Finn and Petra? How could she? They’d been so kind to her, Finn especially. But then he had taken the love she offered him without loving her in return. If she didn’t take his life, she would lose her own.

  She nodded to her sisters and set off back through the city. Would she find Finn and Petra together? If Finn had found her gone, he might have called Petra for help in finding her. They might be together now in his apartment, or in his bed. She set her heart against the man she loved; she had no other choice.

  She turned the final corner and ahead of her saw Finn and Petra hugging on the sidewalk in front of Finn’s building. It was a perfect opportunity; the way they were holding each other, it would be easy to run the knife through both their hearts. She moved slowly, carefully, toward them, thankful that neither was looking in her direction. She raised the knife, ready to strike-

  And lowered her arm. No matter how hurt she felt, no matter what Finn had done to her, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him and his true love.

  Although they hadn’t spotted her, Ariana had been seen. A police officer standing nearby shouted, “Drop the knife!”

  Finn and Petra jumped apart. “Ariana?” Finn gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Looks like she was about to stab you,” the officer said.

  Ariana shook her head, but she couldn’t bear the look of fear on Finn’s face. Dropping the knife, she ran.

  The officer ran after her. “Stop!” he shouted. “You’re under arrest!”

  He was fast, but she was faster. She ran straight for the waterfront, knowing now that there was no hope for her. She had seen enough TV in her few days with Finn to know that if the officer caught her, she would be locked up in jail. There, she would die far away from the ocean. At least if she escaped, she would die near her home.

  “Stop!” the officer shouted again.

  For blocks he pursued her. A few people tried to grab her, but she dodged their hands and finally reached the water. She ran out onto one of the long platforms and, without hesitating, dove from it.

  Death didn’t hurt. She had expected pain, but there was none. She felt her body dissolving into foam, then heard a voice, one that sounded like music, and felt her form rising from the waves. “Child, you are one of us now.”

  She looked around. Surrounding her were dozens of transparent beings. She and they hovered above the water. She rose higher, and the beings rose with her. “Where am I?” she asked, and was astonished to hear her own voice. “What’s happening?”

  “You are with the children of the air now,” said the voice which had first spoken. “We have chosen because of your love for your man and your choice not to harm him or his lover to bring you to us. You have no immortal soul, but if you stay with us for three hundred years and perform good for the humans over whom we watch, you may gain a soul and will live forever. Do you wish to remain with us?”

  “Oh, yes!” Ariana breathed.

  “Then so shall it be.”

  Ariana looked with new eyes at the city below her. At the water’s edge, she saw Finn and Petra, heard them calling her name. Both had tears in their eyes. She went to them and pressed her lips to Petra’s forehead, to Finn’s cheek. “I wish you every happiness,” she said, though of course they could not hear her. “And I wish you all love.”

  Then she rose with the children of the air.

  About Karenna Kolcroft

  Karenna Colcroft is the naughty alter-ego of a shy, sedate mom of two and teacher. She lives in the Northeastern United States with her children, assorted cats and fish, a couple ghosts, and half the time a boyfriend. Karenna began writing erotica about three years ago on a dare, and quickly became hooked. Her favorite thing to read is paranormal romance, and her favorite thing to write is whatever her characters tell her to. To learn more about Karenna, please visit her website.

  JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

  By Phineas Magnus

  Jack fought against the strange lethargy and opened his eyes. It was a Herculean effort, for they each weighed as much as a bus. With that accomplished, he looked around the dimly lit room and tried desperately to make sense of the strangeness of it.

  “Try to relax,” a feminine voice said behind him. “I know it’s difficult the first time, but please trust me; I’ll try to do this as gently as possible.”

  “Urf?” Jack grunted, his mouth dry and throat sore. He felt like he’d been drinking heavily for about a week and was only now drying out.

  “That’s the transportation effects. They didn’t design it for humans and we don’t handle it well. The sickness will go away,” she explained.

  Her voice was pleasant enough, smooth and almost husky. She had an American accent. Not the southern one with the twangs and the y’alls—something more correct. He tried to turn his head to look at her but found he could not see her. Worse, he was confined in some type of chair or bed or…something.

  Jack struggled, trying to push himself free of whatever it was that bound him. Within moments he realized he was truly immobilized. He was strapped down securely, but at least the device he was on was padded. Multiple straps held him, two on each arm and three across his back at different points. Even his neck was strapped, keeping his head snug to the table. What disturbed him were the straps that held his lower body. Each thigh was held by two of them, and two more held his calves.

  None of those straps were nearly as disconcerting to him as the position his body was forced to mold itself into. His ass was up in the air, legs spread and enough feeling had returned that he knew without a doubt
he was naked.

  “Try to relax,” she said again, a tremor in her voice. “I really hate doing this the first time...you’re scared, confused...I know. I guess it’s not any better any other time, but at least you’ll know what’s going to happen then.”

  “What the bloody hell are you doing to me?” Jack gasped, his voice raspy.

  “An Englishman? Oh, we don’t have many like you here. Somebody once told me the English are more into this sort of thing.” She sounded surprised and a little excited, or at least happier. “Now hush and let me do this. The sooner it’s over, the better.”

  Jack struggled again, to no effect, then stiffened in surprise when he felt something cool touch his bottom. Her fingers were rubbing something against him. His cheeks immediately flushed red with embarrassment, but he struggled anew as soon as he realized what she was doing.

  “Relax,” she murmured, putting pressure against him slowly.

  Jack tried to resist. He clenched every muscle he had. He squeezed and tried to tear himself away, but ultimately it just made the pressure she was exerting that much more painful for him. Whatever substance she used to lubricate her fingers made resistance futile.

  Teeth gritted against the humiliation, he felt one digit enter his rectum and press against him internally. She was an expert, he realized, as she found what she was after immediately and began to stroke her finger inside of him. The pressure felt horrible at first. Almost painful. It abated and soon began to cause him to stiffen involuntarily. Jack cried out, groaning in misery as he again tried to struggle in spite of her repeated suggestions for him to relax.

  A warmth spread through, him though he struggled to deny it. He felt something happening, something disgusting and embarrassing. His body shuddered in spite of his intentions, causing him to wet himself slightly. It grew worse as she continued, until, at long last, something powerful swept through him. Jack gasped silently, unable to protest as his body betrayed him. It was the strangest feeling he had ever felt, and even though it felt good, he refused to accept it.

  His body relaxed, all tension gone from his muscles. He struggled to catch his breath and fight, but he had not the strength.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said, sounding truly miserable. “I...they make me do it. There’s one milkmaid for every twenty men.”

  She wanted to say more, he could tell, but instead she turned and left the odd room. Jack struggled to look around again, but all he saw was the light brown wall and the edge of the strange couch he was trapped upon. He wondered at her term—milkmaid. What did that mean? Was that what she had done to him, milked him?

  The straps released on their own, leaving him suddenly free. He picked himself up slowly and looked around. The room was featureless, every wall identical in color, all a pale tan. The light came from nowhere and everywhere, leaving no shadows. The only thing in the room was himself and the strange couch. He looked at it again, burning it into his memory with just a glance. A glance that, he was sure, would visit him in his nightmares.

  When he turned again, he saw that the wall had opened. Not the entire thing, just a portion of it that was sized perfectly for him to walk through. Having no other options, he stepped through and found himself in a larger room filled with beds. Not beds like he was accustomed to, but beds nonetheless. They were thin pads on the floor with a single blanket on top. The pad was molded in such a shape that at one end it had a pillow.

  “You must be Harry’s replacement,” a deeply tanned man said. He walked up to him and offered his hand.

  Jack did a double take. Harry? Replacement?

  “Yeah, sorry, that didn’t make sense. Look, I’m Patrick, I’ll introduce you to the guys,” he said, turning to point to the rest of the men who were looking at Jack with a mixture of interest and apathy.

  “Sorry, but why are you all naked?” Jack asked, noting the one thing they all had in common.

  Patrick smiled sadly. “I been here twenty-two years I think, it’s hard to know really, but they don’t give us clothes to wear.”

  “They? Who?”

  “The giants,” he said, glancing up at the ceiling for effect. “They live up there, in their cloud city. The ground’s too dirty or something; it’s beneath them. Anyway, we do their dirty work and they live up there and do...well, whatever it is they do.”

  “What the bloody hell is going on here?” Jack asked, confused and wondering when he would wake up from the dream.

  “Beans,” another man said, shrugging. “We grown beans.”

  “Beans?” Jack asked, more at a loss than ever. “That’s it then, I’ve gone mad.”

  Patrick chuckled and shook his head. “’Fraid not, but this place’ll make you feel it,” he said. “This is all passed down, mind you, but what we can figure is that these giant folk been using us for hundreds or thousands of years, maybe. There’s something about the beans we grow on Earth, something they like. Maybe they need it, like we need water, or maybe they want it, like I miss a Camel and a Budweiser. Don’t really matter I guess, except that they make us grow ’em. Three crops to about a year, best we can figure, and you don’t never see them except when they come to harvest. Even then, it’s just one of them pasty white skinned fellers in a weird looking plane.”

  Jack looked around, unable to comprehend what he was being told. “I was a banker,” he muttered. “We were going through a merger...I just met a girl…”

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah, I know, it don’t make sense. Hang in there, you’ll pick it up.”

  “Pick it up? Pick what up? I don’t want to do this! I’ve got a life! I…”

  “You got no choice,” Patrick snapped. “You don’t do the work, we’re all in for it. It’s easy enough right now, mid-season, but if you ain’t helping come harvest or planting time, then we don’t make the schedule. They don’t like it when you miss a schedule. People have a way of dying, and trust me, I seen it, they don’t make it quick or easy.”

  “I’m not a farmer,” Jack managed to say. “I’ve never...I mean...how did...why…”

  “It’s a shock, you’d best have a seat. You can have that bunk over there, that was Harry’s.” Patrick pointed to a bed on the floor.

  “What happened to Harry?”

  “Harry figured he was closing in on his eighty-seventh birthday,” another man said. “His heart gave out in the fields.”

  “That’s Ben—he’s a good man if you’re in a bind,” Patrick said, introducing the other man.

  Jack nodded woodenly and sat down. His consternation about his own nudity was fading rapidly. Everyone else was naked and nobody seemed to pay it any mind, even if it was bizarre.

  “Harry’d been here the longest in our group, fifty-two years, by counting seasons,” Patrick continued. “He’s the one that told us a lot of what we know.”

  “Harry had a sense of humor, that’s what got him through,” Ben added, then chuckled. “Might be he made up everything he told us and that was his private joke.”

  Patrick frowned. “Naw, that ain’t it. It fits with what others have said. That and what little I get out of the maids.”

  Jack’s head jerked up even as his cheeks flushed. “Maids?”

  “Yeah, you met ours. Nobody’s seen her, but she sounds like a pretty thing, don’t she? She’s new too, only been here a couple of years. The one before her, phew, she had a right cruel finger on her!” Patrick said, then he shrugged. “Anyhow, that’s how they figure they keep us tame, like we’re animals or something.”

  “What...what did she...I mean, I never...I didn’t—”

  Ben chuckled. “You ain’t gay, if that’s what you’re worried about. Well, you ain’t unless you are, I mean.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Ben means what they done, that happens to all of us every five days. Like it or not, it’s just something our bodies do. Don’t mean you have to like it and don’t mean you want to snuggle up with any of us. Anyways, four men each day get to visit, your next one will be in five days.” />
  The color drained from Jack’s face at the thought of going through that ordeal again. “What...happened?”

  “It’s called prostate milking,” Patrick said. “Right kind of pressure on it and it drains the juice out of a man without letting us enjoy it the way God intended us to, if you know what I mean.”

  “He means holding a woman in his arms,” Ben said with a distant look in his eyes.

  “What else would I mean?” Patrick asked with a scowl. “Anyways, there’s no fraternizing with the milkmaids. We do our thing, they do theirs. The giants figure if we get to breeding, they can’t control us, or at least that’s what Harry said.”

  “I’m not going back!” Jack blurted out, remembering the situation. It reminded him of some memories of his past at prep school that he desperately wanted to keep buried.

  “Ain’t got no choice, son,” Patrick said softly. “They know what goes on, the giants. You miss your time and bad things happen. You wouldn’t be the first—some even fought so hard they got killed.”

  Jack stared at him, his eyes threatening to fill with tears of frustration and fear. He blinked and turned away, staring without seeing at the plain walls of his new and underserved prison.

  “Get some rest, son, we’ll take care of you and show you the ropes tomorrow.” Patrick clapped him on the shoulder.

  Ben followed suit, then moved off to his own bunk. The others dispersed as well to their own areas, leaving Jack to stare woodenly at the ceiling while the sourceless lights in the room faded softer. Eventually exhaustion overcame him and he drifted off.

  * * * *

  The week passed quickly for Jack. It was exhausting for the former banker, even though Patrick and Ben assured him repeatedly that it was easier mid-season than at harvest or planting times. All they had to do was water their crops. It had to be done manually, with buckets made of the same strange material that everything else was made of. There was a fountain with fresh clean water, but they still had to lug each bucket to the fields.