Nico furrowed his brow and scratched his hair. He rotated the map slowly.

"Ah. Aha." He nodded resolutely and put the map back away, then cocked his hands on his hips as he surveyed the path before him. He wasn't lost. He just had no idea where he was, and there was a difference.

Nico hopped up onto a fallen log, briefly checking to be sure there were no green streaks running up the side. The last thing he needed was a hidden hollow sprite or five catching him in one of their snares.

The Aegis of Eternity, a sword fabled to protect its wielder from all forms of harm, was rumored to be somewhere close by in the Evergreen Forest. The Toxin Ranger had charged him dearly for this map, but it would surely be worth it if he could actually find an honest-to-gods named artifact. Assuming he didn't get lost and caught in an arachne girl's web or the like.

He bit his lip, tapping his foot, and surveyed his surroundings. Oak trees dominated this part of the Evergreen, thick with climbing brambles and hanging clumps of mistletoe that clung to the branches like flooded fire ants to their queen.

He was so distracted by being proud of himself for having read a book about ants once, Nico nearly jumped right out of his trousers when he heard a soft giggle from the thicket behind him.

He whirled around, raising what would have been his sword had he not recently lost it and was instead a most unimpressive hatchet. "Someone there?"

At first, he didn't see anything. Well, nothing aside from leaves. Plenty of those! Yes, ma'am, forests had plenty of those. But he didn't see any...

Well, hello.

A pair of very dark hazel eyes watched him from the foliage. They belonged to a woman with skin of gentle green, her head covered in oak leaves. He could only see down to her shoulders, and the beginnings of her cleavage, but it was enough for him to know she was beautiful. She clearly had an amazing figure, but her eyes were somehow most notable of all, shining very brightly, twinkling like stars in the dark hazel night sky. Her lips, plump and luscious, curved upward in a cute, endearing grin. Her ears, pointy and elfin, poked just clear of the mane of oak leaves. Completing the image was a tufted, green lion's tail, topped with a pretty red bow, flicking behind her head.

Nico cleared his throat, and raised the hatchet more casually, as if he'd been about to raise it to give a friendly wave. "Hello, Madam Faerie," he said, avoiding direct eye contact. "Passing through. Not looking for trouble."

Nico Redhand—so named for his red mittens—the Curious was no fool. Very foolish, yes, but not a fool. Whatever kind of fey this was, the best tactic was to be as polite as possible without coming across as flirtatious, or worse, nervous. You never knew which fey would try to jump you and which would let you go on your way with a basket of biscuits for the trouble.

But the green woman just smiled and waved with her fingers, then stepped back and disappeared into the foliage without so much as a rustle.

He put his hands on his hips. "Well! Okay, then."

Part of him was tempted to follow, of course. He couldn't help but wonder who the creature was, and even what she was. Was she fey? Plant? Perhaps even a demon? Most dryads didn't have hair made out of leaves, so had she been a hamadryad?

The thing was, even if he didn't know what she was, he knew pretty well what she wanted; her cheeky manner told him everything. And since nothing could actually attack him on the path, leaving seemed like a not-smart idea.

Nico would be a tempting target. He was of slight build, with a slender upper body and wide hips, toned legs made for jumping and sprinting. His bright green eyes were almost druidic—and fey could be pretty stupid around druids—and his 'floof' of bright scarlet hair, as a friend had called it, made him stick out like a sore thumb.

So he cleared his throat, turned back to the path—because lost or no, at least he was still on the path—and continued on his way.

~ ~ ~ ~

"What are you looking for?"

Nico gave a start, nearly hitting his head on the top of the tree hollow. It was some hours after the earlier encounter.

He pulled out of the hollow and took a quick step back, ensuring he was on the path, then turned to face her. The oak-leaf lady was back, sitting on a low bough and staring down at him. Her gaze was curious and friendly. Maybe a little bit too friendly

"I'm looking for the Aegis of Eternity," he said, clearing his throat. "You haven't seen it, have you?"

"Ooh!" Her eyes lit up. "Maybe I have! Is it a shield with—" She steepled her fingers.

"No. Sorry." He smiled all the same, not wanting to upset her. "It's a sword. You must be thinking of some other Aegis."

She pouted. "Well, it's called an aegis."

"What does that have to do with it?"

She blinked, then giggled, kicking her bare feet. She was dressed in nothing but a pale maroon sweater—stretched tight across her plentiful bosom—a frilly dark green skirt, and fishnet pantyhose. The latter only reached down to her ankles, though, and her toes wiggled playfully as she settled. "'Aegis' means 'shield,' love!" She batted her eyelashes. She had big, expressive eyes, the color of river stones when seen from above the surface of the water, when they turned effervescent shades of blue and green from the algae. Her pupils were quite small, and her lashes thick, her eyes lined a deep shade of blue.

Her tail flicked behind her, reminding him of his old cat whenever she'd found a mousehole to lurk beside.

"Oh, that's... neat." Nico kept up his polite smile as he dipped his head back into the hollow—partially to continue his search, and partially just to have an excuse to avoid eye contact, in case she was trying to hypnotize him. "But I promise, it's a sword."

"What's it do?"

"It protects the bearer from all harm. Supposedly, I mean." He sighed. "If I can find it, anyways."

"So you're just gonna stick your head into every hole in the ground trying to find it?"

"I have a map!" he protested, pulling back out and glaring. She was right above him, and he had a pretty good view of how little she was wearing under that skirt. He tried to look past the tempting sight to her eyes, which were more tempting still. Shimmering like river stones.

"And the map told you to come here?" she asked, her lips quirked upwards in a playful smile.

"Well... no." He bit his lip, wishing he could shy away from her gaze. But it held him, so sparkly and ripply... "I mean, it told me to come around here. I don't have an exact, um. Location."

"So you're just looking around? Trying to get lucky?" She giggled. "That's so cute!"

She rested her chin on her palm, smiling down at him. She had a lovely smile. Beneath her, it felt like he could do nothing but admire her. Admire her supple, curvy body, her tight-fitting sweater, her pretty, glittering blue-green eyes...

Her eyes sparkled, and he felt his cheeks flushing as her words reached him. "W-Well.. well, I..."

"You," she purred, kicking her feet playfully, "are soooo cute when you try to look away from me."

He blinked. "Huh?" Oh. Oh, she was hypnotizing him, wasn't she? Or was she just flirting? Was there even a difference with fey?

"A cutie like you," she cooed, "just can't help but notice how pretty my eyes are." She batted thick, dark lashes. Her tail twitched and flicked behind her, pulling her fluttering skirt about slightly. "Because aren't they. Just. The prettiest eyes?"

"Um." He blinked rapidly. No, no, no. He wasn't falling for that. He tried to tear his gaze away, but he felt his cheeks positively burning like coals. He didn't get attention from pretty girls often. He was so awkward around people, so reclusive. And no girl had ever called him cute before... "I should go."

"Awww." She sighed. "But you walked right underneath me!" She batted her eyelashes again, so playful, the perfect coquette. The perfect fey temptress for someone like him. "You know what they say about us mistlemaids..."

Mistlemaid? What was that? He kept blinking, struggling to snap himself out of it, even though her eyes held him like endless pools, drowning him in that slippery, sweet concoction of flirting, of praise, of...

He realized he'd made a questioning sound—barely even a whimper, judging by her giggles—when she suddenly leaned in, immersing him in those eyes, and the adventurer realized she was now hanging down from the branch, right above him...

"It's bad luck," she gushed, as if this was the most obvious and delightful truth in the world, "to refuse a kiss from one of us!"

He stared. Her eyes seemed to flash, pulsing with lovely turquoise light. Dazzling him. He felt so spinny and dizzy and... and...

"Just one kiss," she whispered, her voice almost quivering with longing, and he felt his lips start to part...

He took a step back, clearing his throat, and focused his gaze on the path ahead with a nervous laugh. "Well, I'd love that, really, but I really have to get going. Thank you so much for the offer, though!" He extended a hand to shake, still avoiding her eyes.

He could tell she was eyeing the hand with distaste. "But... I thought you were..."

Nico had a pretty strong will, though he didn't like to be too overt with it. It gave fey all sorts of ideas. He just maintained his bland smile as he withdrew the hand. "It was a pleasure. Have a wonderful day!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her plump lower lip stick out in an enticing pout. "Hmph. Fine, be that way." She rose back up into the tree, arms folded crossly. "You'll see soon enough."

Nico's smile turned a bit nervous as he turned away. Well, that was ominous.

It was probably nothing. He hurried off down the path, leaving the hollow and mistlemaid behind him.

Nico wasn't the superstitious type, but if threatening 'bad luck' was the worst she would do, he'd take it happily.

He stumbled, nearly tripping over a root, but narrowly caught himself. Eyes on the path, he reminded himself firmly. Got a ways to go yet before nightfall.

~ ~ ~ ~

Nico didn't believe in bad luck.

But he didn't believe in coincidence, either.

He glared down at his right shoe as he sat next to a sputtering campfire. It now had a hole in it the size of his thumb, leaving his sole exposed for any wicked thorns or, he supposed, foot fetishist demons.

He could have sworn he'd had these shoes cobbled just a half-month ago. But sometimes bad weather and wear and tear tore them down quickly.

And there was certainly bad weather today. Stormclouds had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and the forest was sodden. It supposedly almost never rained over the Evergreen—all the water usually came from springs, making it an exceptionally verdant desert. Now he was huddled beneath a maple, his fire was burning low (he'd only been able to find green wood to burn), and he had a hole in his shoe.

And a tiny little thorn sticking out of his sole.

The boobiesbramble he'd had to clear away had snagged in his mittens, too, forcing him to get pricked even more picking the little thorns out. Each thorn wasn't even the size of a shoenail, but they stung like anything.

He pulled the little bit of bramble out, and couldn't help but prick his thumb as he did so.

Boobiesbramble burs had the worst qualities of blackberry, hawthorne and goatheats. Finding a patch growing right in the middle of his campsite, after he'd already placed the tent atop it, had been bad luck. Extremely bad luck.

Now his tent was tattered and would have to be put up again in a different spot, his foot was cold, his clothes were wet, and to top it all off, he couldn't stop thinking about the mistlemaid, about her big, bouncy breasts—surely they'd jiggled so pleasingly when she'd giggled, surely they'd been hanging right in front of him when she'd moved to kiss him, surely that tight sweater had a little window, just the slightest slit, surely she'd been wearing nothing but a corset, a bikini...

Nico rolled his eyes. Boobiesbramble was mostly just a nuisance, but one prick from it could give even the most chaste monk a breast fetish to last the night. And to be honest, he had never been immune to the particular charms of a pair of nice, large breasts to begin with.

And Nico had gotten pricked at least thirteen times.

He was in a bad mood, and it was with a cross growl that he took off both boots, carefully picked his way around the boobiesbramble and poison ivy that were growing all over and around the campsite, and made his way to the tent to start putting it back up.

He'd fix the tent, then make his way through the mud to the little creek that ran nearby. At least he could get some of this mud off of him. It would be cold, but Nico liked the cold, anyways. He'd get clean, then just get some sleep.

It's all just coincidence, he told himself, scowling. He reached down to hoist back up the central tentpole. Bad luck isn't real. Don't let her bounce inside your head.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Nico's head spun as he accidentally pricked his thumb again.

He sighed. He definitely needed a cold bath.

~ ~ ~ ~

Nico swallowed a lump in his throat, staring at his campsite in dismay.

This was a lot of coincidence for one man to bear.

The bath had been nice, if freezing cold, but upon getting out, he'd realized a group of fairies were pilfering his clothes. He'd shouted and sworn after them—he'd probably have cause to regret that later, as even harmless fairies could be wicked when crossed—to no avail. He'd had to make the walk back to the campsite naked save for his coat, undergarments, and those damn holey shoes.

And now he stared, almost questioningly, at the raccoon that had just torn his tent down and was currently chewing the canvas apart.

He stared at the raccoon. The raccoon stared back at him, like a faun caught in the wisplight.

Why, Nico found himself silently asking the creature. Why?

The raccoon stared unblinking. Because I could, it seemed to be saying back. And also your tent smells like chicken because you forgot to wash it after last week, when you ate that roast chicken in there and spilled grease everywhere.

Okay, so the raccoon was at least ten percent Nico's fault.

He yelled anyways, and the raccoon scurried away, leaving Nico alone at his campsite. He gave a suffering sigh, picked the tent's tattered remains away, and retrieved his sleeping bag. At least it wasn't raining too badly under the maple tree.

He settled into the sleeping bag, cocooning himself from this hateful, luckless world. Bad luck is not real, he told himself firmly. It's just coincidences. One bad day does not a curse make!

As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of the mistlemaid's bouncing, jiggling breasts coming closer and closer, luring him down an endless, winding road of mist. No matter how he resisted, he could not find a place to look that was not big and bouncy. No matter where he stepped, he could not keep from walking after her. And no matter how fast he ran, how sweetly he begged, the breasts—which only seemed to get closer and closer—could never, ever be reached.

And in his dreams, to his shame, it did not take him long to start begging very sweetly indeed.

~ ~ ~ ~

Sure enough, though, the next day was better. The rain let up. The fairies left his leather leggings hanging from some bushes—though he still couldn't find his pants, so they chafed horribly. Better than walking around in his underwear, though, surely.

Nico was in better spirits, though the hole in his shoe—and the lingering effects of that damned boobiesbramble—kept him from really feeling comfortable. He just wanted to be done with this mission. If he didn't find any clues about the Aegis soon—a sphinx's riddle, a dungeon entrance, anything—he was just going to head home before things got any worse.

But Nico was stubborn, and he was determined to get a new sword, no matter what it took.

And so determined was his stride, as he crossed the wooden bridge over a shallow creek, that he did not notice how ominously the dry wood was creaking until the plank he stepped on snapped like a twig beneath his holey-shoed foot.

And with a sharp Oop! Nico fell halfway through the bridge.

He narrowly managed to catch himself, his hands getting a couple splinters as he grabbed on desperately to the old rails on either side. His legs plunged through, though, taking him up to his waist in broken, shoddy bridge.

For a moment, Nico hung there, suspended over a watery inconvenience he downright refused to suffer. He growled with effort as he tried to pull himself back up. He was very, very stuck, so much so that Nico rather doubted he would be able to get out either way.

Experimentally, he released the rails. He sank a little, enough to quickly reclaim his hold, but not much. He was well and truly stuck.

No. He had been stripped of his clothes, subjected to an annoying fixation, vandalized by a raccoon, and forced to sleep in the rain. Nico gritted his teeth. He was not about to get wet.

... well, more wet.

Nico squirmed experimentally. The bridge's creak echoed through the forest, and he went still. Worse, the bridge could break completely, and he could get horribly injured on some fractured shard of wood. Nico had worked enough demolitions to know what a piece of broken timber could do to someone if it went in at just slightly the wrong angle.

He bit his lip. So... what, then?

The adventurer hung there, a hand on each rail, and sighed.

"Oh, my!"

Nico's heart leaped, He turned as best he could at the high-pitched squeal, seeing several blinking, glimmering fairies flying towards him. The speaker, a blonde whose curls glowed like the sun, he recognized from the earlier thefts.

"Hey!" he called, swallowing some pride and waving. The bridge creaked, and he quickly reclaimed his grip. "I could use some, um, help, if you don't mind. I appear to be stuck."

The three giggled. Not a good sign.

"You could say that again!" cooed one of them, a redhead with peachy skin and a rather pronounced bosom. She giggled, zooming in close and settling atop his nose with a ballerina's dainty balance—and a few flutters of her beautifully patterned pink butterfly wings. "Someone's been clumsy!"

"The bridge broke," he muttered, trying to look anywhere but her rack.

"Awww." The blonde zoomed in close as well, and he couldn't help but follow the motion of her bouncing tits as she drew up short and hovered next to her companion, right in front of him. "Sounds like someone's having a rough day!"

"Y-Yeah." His eyes tracked for a moment before returning to hers. He was having a lot of trouble keeping up with her golden glow from her fast-fluttering wings.

"Bad luck?" The blonde beamed, zooming in close. "Aw, did you turn down a smooch from the mistlemaid?"

Nico's heartrate quickened as, once again, the tiny bimbo's chest drew his gaze. "L-Listen," he managed, "I, um, was just wondering if I could get some help."

"Help?" The blonde blinked big eyes. A finger went to her luscious pink lips. "You need help?"

Nico bit his lip. "Yeah," he admitted.

She sucked her finger idly as she bobbed up and down in the air, her tight crop top barely keeping her tits in order.

Then the fairies exchanged grins.

Nico's heart sank like a stone. "You know what?" He smiled nervously. "Nevermind. I'm fine."

"Ooh, but you need help!" the peach fairy exclaimed, bobbing alongside the blonde. Bounce-bounce-bounce.

He shook his head frantically. "No. I'll get out on me own! It's fine!"

"No, no," sang the noirette, her long straight black hair trailing after her like a waterfall of shadow as she dove down beneath the bridge—and out of sight. "We'd never leave a handsome fellow in distress like you!"

"Really." He squirmed, feeling the wind of her wingbeats by his feet. "I'm good."

"Oh, but we insist!" teased the blonde. Bounce-bounce-bounce-damn it stop staring at her chest before you give her ideas-bounce. "You don't think we'd leave you here just because of all those rude things you said to us, do you?"

"Very rude things to say to fairies," purred the peach fairy, as she flew down to join the noirette.

Nico tried his best winning smile. "I'm sorry about that. Really. Like you said, I'm having a bad day."

He flinched. Something was stroking his sole, where the shoe had developed the hole. Tiny fingertips dancing along his sensitive feet.

"Aw, such a sweet apology!" The blonde reached up and squished her tits together, forcing his eyes back to them as if they were glued. "Now we've got to help you!"

"I don't want help!" he insisted, biting his lip to hold in a giggle as the tickling grew more insistent. He heard barely-suppressed laughs escaping from down below. He kicked desperately, but encountered only air. Then the tickling resumed, even more focused, as they recognized just how sensitive he was.

"But we insist," purred the blonde, leaning in. Her tiny-but-proportionately-massive tits bounced before his captive eyes. "And you're gonna be a good boy, right, babe?"

He squirmed helplessly, and a tiny whimpered giggle escaped him as the tickling intensified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more glimmering lights reflected in the stream, and he realized to his horror that there were a lot of fairies heading his way.

His holey shoe slipped off his foot and he heard it splash in the creek below.

Then the other followed.

He didn't know what to say. The boobies bounced before his eyes, holding his bouncing brain in check, while his tongue fumbled to find words that wouldn't make it worse.

But all he could manage was a pathetic, "Oh, please," as the fairies set to work tickling his feet, his toes, his ankles, beneath his knees, his inner thighs—everywhere the multitudes of tiny temptresses could find to tickle.

He tried to resist—tried to resist the teasing whispers, the bouncing breasts, and the endless stimulation—even when his trousers joined his shoes in the creek, and the merciless tickling started to access more... sensitive areas.

But soon, his cock throbbing, his eyes squeezed shut against the hypnosis, and his lower body thrashing in helpless, torturous delight, Nico was squealing with laughter, giggling helplessly as the fairies set to work punishing him for his earlier rudeness.

And their own giggles and coos of delight and triumph filled his ears. He thrashed and bucked, crying, panting and gasping for breath, begging with every word he could muster for mercy as the fairies teased and tortured him.

After a solid minute that felt like an eternity, a new voice reached his ears. A familiar voice.

"Oh, goodness," it exclaimed, almost drowned out by his and the fairies' giggling, "what have we here?"

His eyes opened. The blonde fairy was gone, down below the bridge to join in the punishment.

The mistlemaid hanged down from the branches of a nearby oak tree, beaming at him. He felt his cheeks burning, realizing his state.

She giggled.

"So how about that kiss?" she cooed.

He gulped. The fairies' tickling made it so hard to focus, but he managed to isolate enough willpower to hold in his giggles. "I... I..."

It began to rain, as the fairies started to pull his underwear away.

"Aw, c'mon." The mistlemaid leaned in, smirking. Her plump lips smacked as she blew him a little kiss, and he practically felt it on his cheek. "I told you it was bad luck, cutie, to refuse a kiss from a mistlemaid!" Her breasts jiggled before him as she leaned down low, the branch bending to allow her to sit right above him.

Nico struggled to keep control. He couldn't let her kiss him. That was so insanely risky. The worst these fairies would do was... was tease, but they'd definitely let him go afterward. What if the mistlemaid didn't?

He felt the tiniest of tickling tongues run over the head of his cock. "Ooh," he heard the blonde cooing, "he likes that!"

"Here," the mistlemaid murmured, extending her hand. "Just be a gentleman. I'll get you out of this."

Nico stared at her hand. Her skin looked so soft. So smooth.

Just... one kiss?

He bit his lip to hold in a squeak as more tongues joined the first. The fairies were giving his cock an unbearable tiny tongue bath, and he was already so sensitive...

"Fine," he managed, craning his neck. "Sure. Just... just one kiss."

The mistlemaid's eyes shone with pure pleasure as she extended her hand and he took it with his and planted as chaste a kiss he could manage upon it.

She tasted surprisingly piney, reminding him vaguely of winter festivals, of wreaths and hanging mistletoe. Sweet. He tried to make his kiss tender, praying this would satisfy the wicked fey.

She gave a coquettish giggle and withdrew her hand, curtseying slightly. "There we go! Such a good boy."

As she spoke the praise, he couldn't help but giggle back—the fairies were intensifying their attentions to his toes, and no matter how he kicked, they always evaded him—and always seemed to take it as encouragement.

She took his hand, smiling, and began to rise. To his intense relief, she pulled him up easily from the bridge, and he heard the fairies sighing in disappointment as he was once again set onto solid ground.

Nico gave a nervous laugh, finding himself naked from the waist down before a markedly pretty woman (oak leaves notwithstanding, though he had to admit they were kind of fetching). He shifted slightly, finding his balance as he walked very carefully to the other side of the bridge. He noticed the rain had now stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. "O-Okay. Great. So... curse lifted?"

The mistlemaid giggled. He watched her breasts jiggle slightly as she laughed. She followed after him, still sitting on her animated branch. "Yup! All better! Although... oh, wait." She pouted. His eyes briefly diverted from her breasts to those luscious lips as she tapped them thoughtfully with one finger. "Oh, darn!"

His mind felt weirdly fuzzy. Nico blinked, forcing himself to start staring at her lips, afraid she might get ideas.

"W-What's the matter?" he stammered, taking a step back. His eyes settled down on her breasts, which were coming closer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips curving upwards in a big smile. "Oh, nothing! It's just... I dunno if we totally lifted the curse." Bounce. Bounce. Gods, Nico felt so weak for tits right now. He licked his lips.

Then her words register, and he blinked. "Huh?"

"Weell, see..." She put a hand on his, bringing it up to kiss. He pulled away nervously, just in time. She leaned in. "That was a really, really nice kiss. You're such a good kisser!"

Nico felt his cheeks flushing. "Um. Thank you?" Okay, she was clearly trying to set him up again. But the last time he'd refused her, things had just gotten worse. Damn it, how did you win with a mistlemaid?

"You're welcome!" she gushed, patting his head—and, it felt like, ever-so-subtly guiding his head down, so he could stare right at her breasts, barely-concealed by that hot sweater. "But the problem is, the only way to dispel bad luck is with good luck. And just one kiss... I dunno. It might not cut it!"

"Mm." Nico nodded slightly. "And... what would?" He tried to keep his tone neutral, conversational.

"Why, seven kisses, of course!" She beamed. "Seven is the luckiest number in the world. Just seven quick kisses..." She stroked his hair. "... and then you're all fine, cutie!"

"... I see." He leaned away from her petting. Yes, it felt nice, soothing, but that was the point. She was trying to weaken his resolve. Drain his will with little touches, slight strokes, subtle jiggles. Subtle jiggles. Jiggling and... and bouncing...

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to hers. Her eyes glimmered with ill-concealed glee. He could tell how excited she was for these kisses. How badly she needed them. The way she bit her lip in excitement—and she had such plump, full, kissable lips, cocksucking lips... It was as if she was made for kissing.

And though Nico knew nothing about mistlemaids, just from the name and plant motif, he had a feeling she was. Even one more kiss might be one too many.

But after the day he'd had... Nico licked his lips, trying to think clearly. Trying not to ogle her tits too overtly as she leaned in closer over him, even though they were right at his eye level. He couldn't take another day of 'bad luck.' Worse things than tickle-happy fairies prowled the Evergreen Forest, and the next time he got stuck somewhere, it might be a juvenile arachne girl that found him, or a Thriae patrol, or a hungry pack of wolves. Plus, he might step in more boobisbrable, and just look at what a few prickles had done to him.

He watched the boobs bounce.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Squishing together...

Nico swallowed, realizing that she was deliberately bouncing and groping her breasts in front of his eyes. He forced his attention back to her eyes, even as he realized that this was... just what she... what she...

She smiled. Her eyes sparkled and glimmered and flashed with pretty colors. Nico felt his brain tingling as she reached up and put her index finger under his chin, holding it upright. "Cutie," she cooed, batting her eyelashes, "my eyes are up here!"

"Nuh." He tried to speak, and flushed when only that humiliating sound came out. It was hard to speak with her holding his chin up.

"Poor boy," she murmured, stroking under his chin soothingly, as her eyes bored into his, held his, endless seas of blue. "I didn't notice how much you liked my tits before!"

"Nn. B'biesbr'mble." His mumbling protest was barely coherent.

"Just one kiss?" she cooed, giggling. "Then you can stare at them all you want! Just one, and one, and one, and one..." She licked her lips. "... and one, and one, and then you're all done! And you can just stare and sink and be a good, cute slave for tits if that's what you want!"

He managed to shake his head. With all his mental will, he pulled away from the fingertip. "I'm fine," he growled, turning away. Damn the luck. He felt too light and fuzzy to even think about...

"What if I let you kiss my breast?"

Nico froze.

No. Don't even think about it. Don't even... don't even...

He was thinking about it. Thinking about her breast, so soft and warm, the skin so smooth and flawless, so easy to sink into... oh, to feel it, to kiss it...

Nico had always had an embarrassing thing for holstaurs, goblin maids, Thriae, and other busty bimbos. But now, that little kink was ten times its normal size, and just the thought of touching this mistlemaid made his brain melt like putty.

He turned, head in a fog, eyelids suddenly leaden. "I..." As he watched, she pulled her low-cut sweater down even lower, lower, lower, until its hem was just clinging to one of her pert nipples, the barely visible areola a dark emerald, a beautiful contrast to the lighter green of her beautiful cleavage.

"I, um..." He tried to focus on his words, but found his thoughts unable to turn away from the sight before him. He had to see the rest. He had to. Had to. Had...

He gasped when the sweater slipped the rest of the way down, his relief palpable.

She cupped a hand beneath the exposed breast, holding it up for his inspection. "C'mere, cutie," she purred, and her voice was as sweet as molasses, as gentle as a feather, as if she was taming a wild animal. "C'mere. Come on! It's okay." She stroked the breast with her other hand, drawing his eyes helplessly toward the nipple as her fingers danced. "That's a good boy."

He felt himself taking a step. Then another.

"There we go." She sounded breathless. Her voice was silky, seductive, irresistible. "C'mere, cutie. Aw, that's right. Just a little closer. You like my tits, don't you? Mm... yes... yes..."

And before he knew what was happening, Nico was right in front of her, staring helplessly at the breast.

"Go ahead," she hissed, and he could hear the triumph in her voice. "Go ahead, cutie. Just one little kiss... hee, at least to start..."

And seeming to lose patience, she put her hand on the back of his head and eased him down into her soft, warm cleavage.

And he kissed her.

Once again, that wonderful sweetness filled his lungs and tingled upon his tongue, upon his lips. His lips felt so wonderfully sensitive as he found her pulling him closer, found himself pressing eagerly into the kiss, immersing himself in her cleavage. Dizzy desire filled him. He found himself longing to let the kiss go on forever, to keep this fuzzy pleasure buzzing in his brain. To submit completely.

He felt so foggy, he wasn't sure if he managed to pull away or if she pulled him away. He just found himself staring up into her shining, pretty eyes.

"That's right," she murmured, stroking his hair. "That's good. That's such good luck!" She patted him. "But, um, I did kinda forget to mention something else."

He stared up into her eyes, willing himself to leave this foggy bliss, to recover some willpower, but her eyes just kept sparkling, so easy to lose himself in...

"There's a special rule about mistlemaids, see!" She giggled, dimples flushed with excitement, as if she could barely contain herself. "Um, see, when you kiss one breast... you have to kiss the other, right?"

He blinked. That didn't sound true. With all his might, Nico tried to frown...

But her petting made it hard. "That's right," she purred, licking her lips, "and you know I'm telling the truth, because my eyes are far too pretty for me to ever be able to look you in the eyes and lie, aren't they?" Her eyes swirled with beautiful colors, beautiful patterns. "You know you can trust me. I would never lie to you." She leaned in, finally dropping down from the branch so only a thin limb remained wrapped delicately around her waist. Her eyes came closer and closer. "Would I?"

"N... no..." Nico's head felt so heavy. He couldn't hold it up forever, and helplessly, he found himself lowering back down to stare at her tits.

She'd put her right tit away, but her sweater was cut so low now it was almost an embarrassment. He could practically fit in there with her at this point. His heart felt like it was already lost to her, lost to that plentiful cleavage.

He had to get free of this curse, he told himself, as he leaned in and nuzzled her left breast. She sighed happily and wriggled as he used his lips to tug her sweater down, then fastened his lips on a nipple and...

Oh, this kiss felt so nice. He felt so molten and gooey as the fuzz filled his head, once again stroking the worries out of him. She was so warm, so smooth, and she tasted so good.

His heart fluttered as he felt her petting his hair again. That felt so nice. He couldn't help but moan as she wriggled against him, reminding him of his total nudity. "Good boy," she cooed in his ear as he kissed and licked and worshiped. "Such a good kisser! It's like you were born for this, silly!"

Her praise felt wonderful, and so did her mischievous fingers as he felt them wrapping around his cock and start slowly pumping. He whimpered. Oh, that felt so good. She knew just how to take care of him...

He pulled back at last, breathless, wide-eyed. No. No, he had to... resist...

She smiled beatifically down at him. And started pumping faster. "Good boy," she gushed, as he moaned and cried. "Another kiss, now, sweetie!"

And this time, she guided him up by the chin to her, and it felt so wonderful, so natural, to let her... let her...

"No, wa—" he cried, but too late, and far, far too softly, as she kissed him.

Her lips were every bit as plush and lush and sensuous as he'd imagined. Her tongue thrust into his mouth. He trembled, squirmed, but luckily she had him in her arms now. She would take care of him.

He was melting into the kiss. It felt like it would never end, like all time had stopped so that she could drown him in pleasure forever. And he didn't mind that, did he?

Her eyes still held him. She was so happy with him, he knew, staring into those eyes. He was such a good kisser. It felt so good to be good.

She pulled back with a giggle, and Nico fell back, dazed, swooning into her arms. He felt himself being lowered to the ground, and his head spun with disorientation as he realized that they were in some kind of... cage now. Strange plants—mistletoe—was growing around them both, rising up to form a sort of birdcage to contain Nico and his lover.

"Whuh?" he managed, dazedly, feeling the cage rising into the air.

She beamed and stroked his hair. And her other hand just kept stroking his cock. Edging him. He wanted to get up, wanted to protest, but he was so horny, so sleepy and dizzy and fuzzy... "Don't worry, sweetie," she cooed, giggling. "Miss Sultra has you now. Ooh, you're gonna be my cute boytoy for a while, before Lady Honeysuckle comes to check on us. Doesn't that sound fun?

Fun. Nice. Pleasure. Just lying here and being attended to, kissed, edged. Nico's head spun like he was in a whirlpool. He wanted to... wanted to... but her hand...

He lay there, limp, helpless, staring up into her eyes as the vines propped him up into a sitting position, and her head slowly descended into his lap.

"And we still," Miss Sultra said sweetly, licking her lips, her eyes spiraling with seductive triumph, "have four more kisses to go!"

"But... but, um..." Nico's voice was soft, almost unrecognizable to him, as he watched her sink lower, felt her lips settling on the head of his cock to take him in the kiss he so desperately needed. He whimpered as she started to take him in her mouth.

But she waited. She stayed their, his tip held ever-so-sweetly between her lips, a long, drawn out, almost chaste kiss. He needed it. He needed her. His heart pounded. His brain was dripping down between his legs, craving the submission, craving the life of her happy, obedient slave. Craving the next kiss.

She batted her eyelashes and giggled.

"O-Okay," he whimpered.

And Miss Sultra's eyes shone with triumph as her head started to bob in his lap.

And as she began to eagerly suck, Nico drowned in pleasure.

His last free-willed thought, as he obediently lost himself within her shining blue eyes and her soft, luscious lips, to the wet sound of her sucking, her moans, his own cries of bliss, was a vague sort of curiosity. He wondered if he could have avoided this by being a good boy from the outset, by letting her kiss him when she'd first offered. Bad things happened when he disobeyed pretty girls. Because this... this was bad, right?

Then Miss Sultra's tongue went to work as well, and all thought melted into pure, stupid, obedient lust as he started to buck helplessly into his Mistress's third kiss.

Her words swirled endlessly through his head like molten sugar as his orgasm hit, as climax flooded his poor, hypnotized mind.

Four more kisses to go.

~ ~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, some ways away, a woman with hair the color of pink cotton candy hummed as she rolled out a lump of sweet-smelling dough. Sweet smells immersed her, in fact, and her scarlet smile was the sweetest of all—except perhaps for her lovely voice.

She danced about the kitchen, twirling in her long pink dress, her expression dreamy, the very image of a woman in love. Though her bosom and hips were generously curvy, her feet were as small and dainty as those of a ballerina, and her little feathered wings fluttered as delicately as a butterfly's to help her dance with perfect grace. She dipped her finger in a bubbling pot, stuck the finger into her mouth, and giggled with glee.

Then she caught a glimpse of the world outside the round windows of the cottage, and her hot pink eyes widened. Her sucking on her finger sped up slightly.

A soft, smooth voice like warm milk reached her ears, and a hand caressed her from behind, sliding up her dress to stroke over her thigh. "My beautiful Dove," cooed the owner of that hand—and of the cupid she so possessively touched—"it seems our little mistlemaid has brought us another toy to play with." For a moment, they both watched through the window as the mistlemaid enjoyed herself.

"Mm. Ooh." Dove cooed and sighed, leaning happily against the speaker. "She's probably cursed the silly thing's brains out by now."

"The poor dear will need proper care when she's through with him." A kiss. A nuzzle. Dove whined softly, craving every touch. "You know how Sultra can leave a bitter aftertaste."

"Uh-huh." Dove giggled. She wriggled back against the speaker. "Don't worry, Mistress. I know how to take care of rebellious boys." Her finger dipped back into the pot, stirring momentarily, before lifting the finger back up to her eyes, the concoction positively dripping with something that smelled fruity, creamy, and almost sickeningly sweet. Her heart swelled with adoration as she watched that distant shape, so squirmy beneath Sultra's merciless control. "When I'm through with him, our bitter boy will be as sweet as candy."

And as the cupid bounced in place with her excitement, she stuck the finger back into her mouth and began to suck, moaning as Lady Honeysuckle's caresses continued.

Soon, she'd be sucking on something even sweeter.