Gretel hated goodbyes. Especially goodbyes that lasted a solid week.

"Bye-bye, sugar!" cooed the blonde sorority witch, planting a big, sloppy kiss right on Gretel's neck as she snuck up from behind. Gretel whimpered and cried out, the abjuration mage's mind filling with static as his sensitive, silvery magical mark was subjected to a merciless, indulgent makeout. "Mm... come back soon!"

He nodded and staggered away, trying to suppress a dumb, happy smile. "Y-Yes. Thank you, Abril. I will." Why did I say that? Don't make promises! "I mean, I've appreciated your... hospitality."

"Such a shame you've gotta leave us," murmured Maye beside him. The copper-haired witch grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "You know you're welcome to stay a li'l longer, if you please."

"Th-Thanks." Gretel nodded nervously. His eyes never left Abril, who watched him with a predatory gleam in her eye. He'd tried to get up early this morning so he could leave without too many of the witches at this little commune trying to 'persuade' him to stay, but Abril always got up early to bake.

And Maye never left his side, of course. He'd known he would face at least two temptresses—fit, lithe Maye and curvy, generous Abril were nigh-irresistible, but it could have been worse. Assuming Abril didn't wake everyone up with her high-pitched singsong.

The door was at his back. All he had to do was open it and walk out. His hand fumbled for the doorknob, watching Abril carefully. Abril waggled her fingers with a grin. Her only really dangerous magic was in her baking, and since whatever was in the oven wasn't close to being done yet, that at least neutralized her as an enchantress.

But the witches had only used a little magic on him, truth be told. The real danger was temptation. Gretel, a handsome fellow with light olive skin, pale green eyes, and fluffy pink hair, had learned quickly since his departure from the cloistered Mage Tower that it was nearly impossible to refuse a pretty girl anything. Or that, at least, it was impossible for him. Embarrassing, but unavoidable. Hopefully he'd get better at it when they weren't constantly barely-dressed in lacy lingerie designed to drive him crazy, clinging to him, cooing in his ears, dragging him back into one of their many big, comfy beds to pamper and praise him into obedient goo...

"But, um," he finally said, realizing he'd forgotten to respond, "I should really go. I think I've done all the r-research I..." He swallowed as Abril gave her wooden spoon, dripping with batter, a long, implicative lick. This was exactly why it had taken him a week to even get himself this close to the door since announcing he was leaving. "I should move on to the next town," he squeaked.

The doorknob finally turned. He opened the door and backed out onto the porch. Outside, the western horizon burned with the dawn, flooding the orchards and fields and forests with color tinged golden. Gretel winced slightly. It had been a long time since they'd let him outside unsupervised.

Though he wasn't exactly unsupervised right now.

"The summer goes by so fast," Maye purred, taking his hand and closing the door behind them. He flushed at even that little contact, her warm, soft, delicate hand holding his. "Where to next, sugar?"

"I... I'm heading south. That's the way to the main village where your family lives, right?"

"South?" She raised an eyebrow, resting her chin on his shoulder with a plaintive look. "Ooh, you might wanna be careful. That stretch of wood's got a bit of a reputation."

"R-Right." Gretel nodded, shifting away from her far-too-welcome touch. "Well, um... I'll be careful."

"Especially after dark," she purred, running a finger over his shirt buttons. "And it's already so close to nightfall."

"What? B-But it's..." Gretel blinked, his eyes widening, as he realized what direction the burning sun lay in.

"We witches sleep during the day!" Maye giggled. "Well, I don't sleep much at all. Catnaps." She licked her hand like a cleaning cat, her eyes glimmering with innuendo. "We just magic the lights to match it. You ain't been outside much lately."

"R-Right." Gretel laughed nervously. "Well, um, I'm sure I'll be fine. Abjurer, you know." He pulled his hand away with a smile. "Thank you very much for the warning, though, and your hospitality. I've learned a lot about witch covens from you."

"Oh, yes, you have!" Maye giggled. "But are you sure you wouldn't be safer..."

"Goodbye, Miss Maye," he said firmly, mustering some fresh willpower as the fresh air gave him courage.

Maye trailed off, then beamed. "Goodbye, my li'l pillow prince!" she cooed, patting him on the head. "Come back soon."

He nearly melted far more than she knew from that touch as he, at long last, made his departure from the village's friendly local witch commune.

~ ~ ~ ~

Gretel had to admit, the old wood was a lot scarier in the dark than he'd expected. The trees were covered in hanging moss and lichen that hung off the branches like sinister curtains. Chittering and skittering sounds came from the treetops. A colony of cat-toy spiders crawled over the old rotting stump they resided in, the glow from their shimmering silk just barely visible from within. They were each the size of a human eye, white and bristly. Gretel hurried past.

The Cloistered Lands weren't always dangerous, but everyone knew travelers were gambling a lot—especially lone travelers, who could tempt all sorts of attentions. He feebly wished he'd asked Maye to elaborate, even though he was pretty sure she'd been lying—and positive that she was just trying to get him to stay longer.

It wasn't called the Greatest, Darkest Forest, for nothing, either.

Gretel bit his lip. He needed a light.

Reaching up into the air, Gretel concentrated on the silvery tattoo-like mark on his neck, humming at a low pitch that slowly rose. The air before him started to spark and crackle, and with a jolt, a little glowball appeared in front of him.

He shivered as his mark tingled with magic. Oh.

Oh, dear.

Gretel stood still for a moment, feeling his little cock tingling. He suppressed a needy whimper. Over the summer, those wicked witches had positively delighted in his magic mark's sensitivity. They had kissed it, licked it, tickled it, stroked it—anything to draw the cute little moans out of their boytoy, anything to make Maye's pillow prince happy.

He reached up, lip quivering, and felt it. It was warm from the lingering spell and tingled to his touch.

The witches' endless delicious torment had created a rather unfortunate association between his magic mark and... and pleasure, much to his embarrassment.

He brought his hand back down, clearing his throat, trying to dispel the sensations—and the memories' sensations, the phantom touches he couldn't help but think about.

But it wasn't much more fun to focus on the path ahead. He concentrated on the light, feeling the tingling return as he willed the orb to glow brighter and bounce ahead, lighting up a deerpath laden with copper-red fallprims—a type of vibrant primrose that changed color with the seasons, infamous for growing near the lights created by... what was it, again?

He hurried onward after the glowball, trying not to tread on the rather pretty flowers. Some sort of fey, no doubt. What if Maye had been telling the truth?

He couldn't stop thinking about the witches. He remembered Abril, the curvy blonde who had so loved to settle in his lap and hand feed him, popping treat after treat into his open, drooling mouth, sweetening him up—all while gently stroking his mark, occasionally leaning over to plant long, wet kisses on it.

He remembered Jane and Juuni, who'd so loved to take turns sneaking into his bed while he and Maye slept and tenderly suck and kiss him all over, slowly reducing him to a needy boytoy so they could carry him off to their own room, where they would mercilessly lick and kiss everywhere except the mark until he was begging for them to kiss his brains away.

He remembered Claire, the gentle brunette, who'd been so gentle and tender as she taught him to help her spin... well, she'd mostly just put him to work spinning. Claire was very tasks-oriented. But he'd always ended the spinning sessions in her bed, somehow.

But worst of all, he remembered Maye. He bit his lip, trying to focus on the glowball and the path, trying to ignore how his mark seemed to tingle as he thought of the lovely redhead, who would tease him all day with thoughts of what they'd get up to at night. She'd so loved to interrupt him while he was...

Gretel whimpered. He could almost feel her fingers delicately stroking his mark, almost inquisitively, as if totally unaware of the effect it had on him. Oh, if only he hadn't allowed them to find out just how sensitive it was. She'd loved to interrupt him in the middle of his chores, to torment him, whispering promises in her pillow prince's ear for if only he'd get his work done early for once. And around and around and around her finger would go.

Unbidden, his hand slipped down between his legs, and he began touching himself. Just a little. Just... just little strokes. With his fingertips, really. He wasn't going to go crazy. He'd just... stay a little on the edge...

He'd always tried so hard to focus on his tasks. But always, another sorority witch—or two, or three—would notice his desperation and decide to toy with him. And he could never resist a pretty girl's advances. They would soon have him in their arms, in their bed, begging to be pampered. And later, Maye would...

Another tingling along his mark made Gretel pause his self-pleasuring, just for a moment. He bit his lip, risking a glance behind him. Those touches felt real, not phantom. It wasn't always easy to tell, but the fingers felt cool, like someone was actually...

There was nobody there. Nothing but the gloom of the forest after dark.

He swallowed and turned back to the path, continuing to edge. Maye would always act so disappointed, cooing and mock scolding as she bounced in his lap, tickling her fingers over his—

He felt fingers tickling his mark again and spun around, his breath catching.

Nothing. Nothing but the frogs and crickets of the forest. But those touches felt so real, sodaring. He cast the light around, eyes narrowed.

He was alone on the forest floor.

The abjurer turned back to the path, trying desperately to deny how sleepy he was getting. It was well past his bedtime.

And by 'bedtime,' Gretel meant this was normally the time where he'd get lured away from his chores by Abril. His fingers sped up slightly. Abril, always so sweet and tender as she took him by the hand and had him stoop down to meet the blonde shortstack so she could whisper something in his ear... but always, instead, she would plant a big, messy kiss on his neck as she slipped a chocolate truffle past his reflexively-parted lips...

Gretel cried out as he felt the kiss, wet and sloppy, sweet and loving, and he whirled in confusion, because there had to be someone there, had to be...

Nothing but darkness.

Gretel swayed a little, his cock, small as it was, straining to be freed. It had felt so good...

He heard a soft giggle from above and looked up.

A pair of bright blue eyes crinkled in a blushing, dimpled smile. "Oops," said the owner of the smile, giggling again. "Busted!"

Gretel stared, briefly startled into forgetting his arousal.

The speaker was a woman, at least from the waist up—a woman with pronounced heart-shaped hips that tapered off into a long, glittering serpent's tail, covered with scales of chestnut and blond weaving in elaborate braided patterns. Her hair was a beautiful ruby-red that positively glimmered in the light shed by his glowball, and her cute button nose had a little copper nose ring in the side.

Her lips drew his attention instantly—they were a brilliant copper, with a distinct metallic glint, though he could tell that they hadn't been painted. They were also exceptionally luscious, even compared to the goblin maids and witches who had been delighting him for the last summer. In fact, they were almost a little silly, so cartoonishly pillowy and plush that he could instantly tell who had been responsible for the exquisite kiss. As if it hadn't already been obvious.

She was dangling down from the branches, dressed in a sleek, form-fitting leather jacket that bared just enough cleavage for it to be intentional. Her red hair was done up in a pair of thick braided pigtails, tied with bright copper-red ribbons.

"H-Hello?" he said, his heart pounding. Had she been above him all along? Why hadn't he thought to look up?

"Hiya." She licked her lips. She had a forked tongue. A very long forked tongue. "Didn't anyone tell you not to be heading out here after dark, stranger?" Her voice carried a distinct lisp on the 'r' and 'l' sounds, giving her words a sound almost like babytalk. Those plush lips had a drawback, it seemed. Or a 'dwawback,' to hear her say it. But her grin was anything but innocent.

"Maybe they did." Gretel bit his lip. "Being a m-mage, though, those rules don't apply. My name is Gretel. What's yours?"

"Dani." She cocked her head slightly. "What has a sweetmeat like you out and about? Shouldn't you be safe in bed with your missus?"

"I-I'm not... married?" Gretel cleared his throat. "Listen, I... should go. I just want to make it to town. I don't want any trouble."

"Ooh, me neither!" She winked. "But you're not trouble, are you?"

"N-No." Gretel clasped his hands together. "I mean, I'm not... I don't have time for..." Don't be rude. Whatever you do, don't be rude. Never be rude to fey. Do any lamias eat people?

"Gretel, Gretel, Gretel!" She shook her head, tutting. "Aw, this won't do at all!"

"Wh-What?"

"I'm just trying to say hello to one of my very few visitors! No time for a conversation?" She sighed. "Wherever did you learn those kinds of manners?"

Gretel felt his cheeks burning. "S-Sorry," he said, chastised.

"That's better. Bring that light back, now." She crooked a finger, beckoning in its direction.

"B-But I—"

A finger came to his lips. Gretel fell silent, staring up at the gorgeous fey. She smiled winningly down at him.

Meekly, he recalled the glowball. It came to hover in the air before him.

"That's better," Dani said smugly. "manners are very important, you know!"

"I-I guess." Gretel felt thoroughly flustered. He had been awfully rude. Dani was just trying to have a conversation, and there he went assuming it was something sexual, something dangerous.

At the same time, he could feel old associations rekindling as a pretty girl told him what to do and he did as he was told. But Dani couldn't know about that, could she?

"That's right," she cooed, swinging gently in place from her branch. "There's never a good reason to be impolite! Especially when you're still unwed!"

Gretel's gaze fell to his feet. "W-What does that have to do with—"

"Mumbling!"

He looked back at her, feeling his cheeks positively ablaze. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Why, everything!" Dani exclaimed. She swung back and forth, her eyes shining with excitement. "Surely a cute thing like you knows how important it is to always be on your best behavior. You never know when you might run into your true love!"

Gretel blinked. "Huh?"

She was talking so fast, and all her words just spilled together. Spooled together. He knew she was trying to trick him somehow, but watching her sway above him, her blue eyes glimmering like twin moons on a cold winter night, Gretel was finding it awfully hard to focus on that.

"A young fellow must be married by the age of twenty-five, and it's rather scandalous if he hasn't been wed by twenty-two, to be honest with you." She giggled. "I mean, what does that say about the kind of boy he is?"

"Um." Gretel licked his lips. "Single?"

"No, no, no!" She shook her head slowly, in time with her swaying. "An unmarried man is so vulnerable! What will his neighbors think? What will people say?"

Gretel didn't respond this time, sensing a rhetorical question. He just focused on maintaining eye contact, so she wouldn't scold him again, and tried to work out where she was going with this.

"What if people think he's some kind of bimbo?" Dani went on, her swaying now adopting something of an arc, so she was now circling around him. "Some sort of dumb, horny bull who sleeps around, sticks his cock anywhere?"

"Um."

"The sort of stud," she murmured with a sensuous sigh, "who'll let his heart get all aflutter for an-y-one who wants him. Any pretty face, any pair of bouncy breasts or... shiny eyes..."

"Um." Gretel nodded, trying to show he was paying attention. Her eyes seemed to almost be spiraling, but it was so very hard to tell when he had to keep spinning in place just to maintain eye contact.

"Why, he'd be absolutely helpless," she whispered, eyes widening with urgency. "Such scandal! Just a helpless sweetmeat for any pair of lips, a needy mess for any hot ass in his lap. You could drown him in a kiss, in a mere... touch..." The word was almost a hiss as Gretel felt her fingers stroking along his mark. Her touches felt so wonderful, so tender and loving, slowly stoking his lust and desire with those dainty fingertips...

"Um," he said, trying desperately to muster the words to object, even if this felt wonderful. He was sort of keeping up. She was worried he was going to come across as... as everything she said... if he didn't listen to her. Or if he wasn't polite to her. Or something.

"But that wouldn't be you, would it?" she purred, as her eyes glimmered and shone around him. As her fingers stroked his mark, he felt a sort of... presence... and the orb's color changed to a dull copper-red pulsing. Had he... had he meant to do that? His eyelids fluttered, but it was too hard to think. Too easy to spin. Too inevitable to just let her touch him, stroke him. Every pulse felt like... felt like... something. Gretel swayed. "Would it, sweetmeat?"

"Um," he said firmly, managing to shake his head. "No."

"No?" Her voice was soft, demure, girlish—and sly, wicked, dripping with mischief. Her eyes spiraled and swirled in endless blue. "So you're nice and strong-willed? Even though you're an unmarried man wandering around this forest, cock tenting your trousers like a dumb bull looking for a mate?"

"... no?"

Dani giggled, running her fingers tenderly over his mark until his lower lip quivered with the need to cry out. "And you're saying you'd be able to resist," she purred, her face almost directly in front of his as she hung down before him, "a pretty girl's soft kiss? That the slightest peck of my lips on yours wouldn't remind you that you're just a dumb, horny boy who'll fall head-over-heels for the first pretty girl he sees? You could resist all that?"

Gretel's mind spun into those pretty, swirling eyes. He felt funny. Scattered and spun about, like Dani was drowning him in a whirlpool of honey, so slow and yet endless, inescapable. He struggled with every fiber of his working mind to sift through what Dani had asked him, to swim through it, to find an answer, but all he could manage was a whimpered, "No?"

He was pretty sure that was the right answer. It had been the last two times, right?

Dani's smile told him it was. She had such a pretty smile, Gretel reflected distantly, swaying in time with her as her head swung back and forth like a pendulum. So pretty.

"Well, there's only one way to know for sure," she cooed, leaning in close.

"Huh?" Gretel felt his face being cradled in her hands. Such warm, soft hands.