Jerry cursed as he saw his landlord's daughter leaning against his door. Melody was trained up by her dear old dad to take over his business. That also meant she was the one reminding people who are late for rent that they better show some money.
Before she could open her mouth he cut her off. “My paycheck is due tomorrow and your father knows that.”
There was no love lost between them and both knew it. Still, she gave him a fake smile. Fitting as she looked so fake that she could star on Jersey Shore. “Of course I know. I am not here for your rent .. yet. I am here to offer you a way to repay your debt. At least some of it.”
Jerry stifled a sigh. There would go his free weekend down the drain. He was sure of it. “Want me to paint some fences again?”
"Oh no. Something more suitable for someone of your build. Miss Bates is too old to live on the third floor and we are moving her to a ground floor apartment. Fifty bucks. Not much, but someone in your position. Well beggars can't be choosers, right?"
He grounded his teeth. She got him there. He needed every dollar he could get his hands on. Even for a lousy job like that. “I’ll do it.”
"Great! Be there on Saturday at 9 am." Melody handed him a paper note and walked off.
Finally, he was alone. He fished for his keys and slipped in the broken down room that his landlord called an apartment. Exhausted he let himself drop on his couch.
How had it come to this? Not the first time that he had wondered the very same thing. Just two years back he had been a star in his school's football team. Then he graduated. From there it all went to hell.
Talented, but not talented enough. That made him fail to get a scholarship. With marks below the average, his prospect in his hometown wasn't that great either.
To avoid having been told so every single day by his dad he decided to move out west. Maybe even all the way to California. Reality quickly caught up.
Three states. That's how far he has gotten. Now he flips burgers on weekdays and the odd jobs on weekends. All to make barely rent and to live. He didn't even own a tv or pc.
Groaning he stood up and walked to his small gas stove. What's left of his evening was heating some can of food from the discounter and then some pages in a library book. He shook sadly his head. He used to be one of those that hazed bookworms. Now that was his only means of entertainment.
Saturday came and went. Just as he had predicted he was still at it on Sunday. Old Miss Bates has collected quite the hoard of trash in her lifetime. Of course, none of it could be thrown away. All this for fifty bucks. Jerry hated his life. Maybe he should go back east. Have his father tell him what a failure he was. At least it was one job Jerry would have to do less.
Distracted by an absent mind, he didn’t notice that a leather satchel was open. Half the content spilled on the floor as he moved it.
Cursing, he crouches down to gather the content. A bunch of faded and yellowed pages.
All of them in a neat handwriting, but so old that he had to squint to read the faded ink. Something about behavior and nature. Maybe a journal of a researcher? On some pages, he saw drawings. Though faded, he could make out that each drawing pictured a woman. Curiously they all had wings. Not of a bird or bat. More along the lines of dragonflies or butterflies.
Finally, he found the title page. “Manuscript - Almanac of Pixies - first edition”
Suddenly a voice startled him. "Oh, that. It was my uncles. He vanished when I was just seven. He wanted me to have it. Wrote it down on his will. Do you read a lot young man?"
Behind him stood Miss Bates. Who knew the old lady could be so sneaky. He started to put away the pages. “I guess. More of a recent development.”
She gave him a smile that somehow every old lady perfected.
"Oh, in that case, why don't you keep it? With me, it only would gather more dust. And I already feel terrible that I can only pay you a hundred dollars for all your hard work."
Jerry grounded his teeth again. One hundred dollars? Melody said fifty. So she was cutting part of his pay off. He couldn’t wait to confront her. "Thanks, Miss Bates. I will treasure it." Or sell on eBay. Something he thought better of than to say aloud.
Another grinding working week concluded and Jerry was happy to have two days of not flipping burgers or doing demeaning jobs for his landlord or his daughter. By now free days were so rare that he had to actually think about what he could do with the free time.
Sitting at his small kitchen table and eating, his gaze drifted towards the leather satchel. Sure. Why not. He could sift through it and look how much it was worth. Probably nothing.
Soon he found himself immersed in the manuscript. Miss Bates uncle must have been some wacko. He thought Pixies are real. He wrote a whole book about them. Treated it as a serious field of study.
What intrigued Jerry the most was the consistency. In many works of fiction, especially complex ones, occurred errors and plot holes. Here, however, he could not find one inconsistency.
Slowly, because the writing was so faded, he learned about the pixies, their tribes, and races. According to lore and, if you believe the author, interviews with live Pixies each tribe represented an aspect of nature. Basic stuff like plants and trees. Or the elements. Even common behavior like wrath, mischief or lust. For the last one, Jerry was especially disappointed to not find a drawing. Most of the other tribes had. He didn't take the whole book seriously, but he had to admit that having a lust pixie around would be kind of nice. Or hilarious.
Then he arrived at the last chapter and had to nearly laugh out loud.
The chapter words were very faded. Still, he could read: “How to summon a pixie…”
He snorted. Sure. Summon a pixie. Just like that. He was halfway to put the book manuscript away when inspiration struck. Summoning things must be complicated. Fiction or not. So if he really wanted to find inconsistency, he had to look there.
Once again he immersed himself in the book. Sure enough, it was complex. There was a bunch of ingredients listed for the main portion of the ritual and separate lists of ingredients for the different kinds of pixies you could summon.
Most of the ingredient list melted away as he figured out that each part had different alternative ingredients listed. If one wasn't growing in your part of the world there was another listed that would.
After maybe half an hour, he had made himself two lists. One for the main part and one for the aspect. Rent down to the local fauna and flora. To his surprise, none of the ingredients were expensive or rare. He even bet he could pick them all up in the nearby nature reserve. It would be a walk of one or two hours. All that for a ritual he didn't believe in?
He looked around his room. Nothing there he hadn’t seen a thousand times before. He was starved for something new or exciting.
“I can’t believe I am saying it, but let's summon a pixie!”
He was grinning like a madman and talking to himself didn't help to lessen the image. Thankfully he was alone. He grabbed his backpack and headed out. First, the library to pick up some books so he could identify the needed plants. Then the park.
On Sunday morning his tiny apartment looked like the hobby room of a housewife. Branches of wood, leaves, various local plants, sewing thread and a few stripes of cloth littered it.
A part of him thought he was going mad. On the other hand, he had more fun than in month and it only cost him about five bucks for the fabric and thread. He was busy bending and connecting the branches he found. The book called for a wooden circle. Much like a flower wreath just bigger. Then he had to add the plants be sewing and tacking them on. Bigger parts had to be knotted on with strips of the cloth.
Finally, he was all done and on his floor was a wooden circle of about six-inch diameter. Decorated in a way that maybe said, mad man. He checked twice if everything was done right. It looked like everything was in order to summon a female lust pixie. Being a red blooded man no other pixie tribe would fit him.
With his last check done, he moved the ring over his improvised pool. A bunch of garbage bags taped together. The ritual called for water to be poured and he didn't want a mess. Or worse, the neighbor downstairs to complain to his landlord.
He stepped into the circle with a pitcher of water in his hand. Everything he knew of summoning rituals said that the summoned creature would be in the circle and the summoner outside. But then again all he knew was from pop culture.
“There we go. Countdown to the totally obvious disappointment that it didn’t work in three .. two .. one ..”
Slowly he emptied the pitcher. Letting a small flow of water flow over the wood and plants. He turned clockwise and slowly got the whole oversized wreath wet.
“Ritual complete!” he said to no one in particular.
Nothing had to be said actually. No incantation or dancing. That was it. Ritual complete. Jerry shrugged.
"Well, this was fun. What do I do now?"
Then he noticed something particular. Try as he might he could not raise a foot to step out of the circle. It didn’t take him long to notice the second odd thing. A slight mist of gray smoke lifted itself up from the wood of the circle. Slowly it drifted upwards. Not towards his half open window. The smoke clung to him like living tendrils. Slowly it crept upward.
It reached his face and he took his first lung full of smoke. When he exhaled his mouth spewed out pink smoke. It took a few drags before he noticed that he was fine. No coughing or suffocating. That calmed him down and averted the panic attack that had been brewing.
Now, with the immediate danger gone, Jerry could think again. He was stuck and needed help. Shouting for help was the obvious thing to do so why hadn’t he? He drew a deep breath of air and smoke and yelled for help with all his might.
Nothing left him, but a cloud of pink smoke. No sound escaped his lips. Just more pink to mingle as mist on his room's floor.
As shouting for help wasn't an option, he took stock of his surroundings.
Below him was the circle. Slowly the wood and plans vaporized to gray smoke. It drew itself towards and upwards him. To be breathed in and exhaled as pink smoke. It, in turn, filled the floor. Only the gray circle of wood and smoke broke its domain.
Suddenly dread filled him. As he watched the last remains of wood and plants vanished. He drew in the last traces of gray. With nothing in its way, the pink cloud crashed onto him. A heat and warms filled him. Made him dizzy. Soon he didn't see anything, but pink. Heard nothing, but his heartbeat and his excited breathing.
Suddenly he lost the ground beneath him. He was in free fall. How long he couldn’t tell. Losing his conscious before he hit the floor.
Jerry cursed as he woke up. He was under the canvas of a collapsed tent or something similar. Buried as he was he hardly saw any light. What he saw was a dim light and started to crawl towards it. As he moved on all for he noticed strange things.
Besides waking up in a collapsed tent, he was naked and he felt strange. Like his body felt off. As he crawled forward something pulled on his back. As if someone glued stuff on him and that stuff caught in the folds of the tent and gave resistance. Something hung below him on his chest that his mind tried its best to ignore. His arms and legs felt weak and if they had lost mass. Finally, he arrived at the opening and dragged himself out.
What greeted him was so out of there that his mind refused to work for a few seconds. He was in his room. Only that his room hadn't the size of a stadium. Everything around him was gigantic. His kitchen chair was a small skyscraper. His fold out couch might have as well been a cruise ship. Even his shoes had the size of trucks. It didn't get any better when his gaze drifted downward. The tent he had crawled out was his shirt. The weird feelings of his body by finding a female one seen from the first perspective.
Jerry's mind chose this moment to skip all the usual feeling. Anger, fear, confusion, and denial had all to wait as he fainted again.
Jerry woke to a ringing sound. Not just any normal one. It was loud as if someone used a megaphone or played it on the biggest boombox. Groaning he opened his eyes and was at once blinded by the sunshine. Using his hand he could see the morning sun shining through his window. He could also see his window. Wide as a street block and floating in a gray sky that he identified a moment later as the wall of his room. The angry ringing was his phone. Something so out of reach that he would never answer it in time even if he wanted to.
Maybe it was the angry ringing that wouldn’t let him faint again. This time he had to face the reality. “I didn’t summon a pixie. I frickin’ became one!”
Looking down he saw what he dreaded. A lithe female body. Not overly curvy and with barely any breasts. For that small wonder, he was deeply grateful. He stood up and looked around his room. Only to spin around and show the phone the middle finger.
“Would you frickin’ shut up?!”
Maybe it was his shout or the impatience of the caller. All he knew was that merciful silence greeted him.
Now oddly calm he started to take stock. He really had a body of a girl. Maybe a little underdeveloped physically. Not that he minded. As he examined his body further. His skin had a slight hue to it. Like someone had spray-painted bubblegum-pink over it. Flexing around he noticed that every part of him was evenly discolored. More so, he felt the slight tugging on his back again. He twisted and turned till he saw something swish behind him. A few tries later he caught a piece of it.
Wings! Of course, he had some. Apparently, every pixie had wings. Why was he even surprised to find them? He tucked on his caught wing to examine it closer. Best he could describe it was like a V with the pointy part connected to his back. From there the wing flared outward in a thin pink membrane that was a mix of bat wing and dragonfly. Unlike a V, his wings were slightly curved and dropped downwards.
It felt strange. To feel his hands on an appendage that he hadn't had before. Suddenly the wing jerked in his hands. An instinctive try to flutter them as he thought about using them. He let go of his wing and prepared himself for what was to come.
All around him towered his furniture. If he wanted to survive he knew he had to fly. Without it, food and shelter would be out of reach.
He readied himself. Wings pulled back. Then he took a mighty flap.
Suddenly wind was rushing past him. His clothes quickly becoming smaller. It was as if he was falling backward.
Then he noticed the ground coming closer. His world suddenly exploded into a mess of pain, tangled limbs and a view that spun around like crazy. Eventually, his world came to a rest. He had stopped, but the pain continued.
Slowly he unfolded himself of the contortionist hell of knotted pixie limbs he had become. Surely he must have broken every bone in his body. To his amazement, every limb or appendage looked to be alright and the pain vanished shockingly fast.
After he shook off the shock he looked around. He was halfway across the room. Still on the floor of course. His mind slowly provided answers. His wings gave too much force and his angle was so flat that he launched nearly parallel to the ground. With nothing to slow him down, it was as if he had jumped out of a speeding car. Only ten times worse.
“Okay. Full throttle equals disaster. Got it. Should try baby steps. Or more like baby flaps.”
His chuckle was lost on everybody, but him. After a deep breath, he was ready. Instead of a full swing, he gently moved his wings up and down. Was he feeling lighter? He moved his wings a tad faster. Did his heel just left the floor or had he imagined it.
Again he increased his pace slowly. A jump and then another. Without using his legs he shoots slightly in the air and softly floated back down. Again and again.
"The new me. With all new features like a built-in trampoline."
He chuckled again. Then he stopped as he had a sudden insight.
All this was wrong. He should be frightened or confused. Maybe even angry. He should act more shocked. At the start, he did faint after all.
But now he was on the opposite. He wasn’t concerned or scared. Hardly batted an eye after a horrific crash. Eager to experiment more. Something had changed. Not just physically, but mentally. He felt curious and light spirited. Something that reminded him of the manuscript. The chapter about pixie mentally.
He just hoped he could control those feelings. Curiosity and a lack of fear might help him for now. Other traits like playfulness or being drawn to mischief might be more of a problem.
With that sorted out - for now - he concentrated again on the task at hand. Again he willed his wings to move. And again he had measured wrong. Suddenly he found himself several lengths of himself in the air and slowly gravity took over again. Before he could crash into the ground again he pushed with his wings again. He gained some height. After a few more swings of his wings, he slowly learned to measure it just right. Slowly his hectic strong movement of wings and jerky shooting upwards gave way to gently flapping wings and a hover.
Jerry grinned. He had done it. Finally, he was flying. He felt as if nothing could stop him now. A sudden loud ringing broke his concentration. Before he could collect himself he rammed into the ground.
Cursing he stood up. The pain faded mercifully fast away. Above him droned the ring of the telephone on. After he collected himself he leaped into the air. His flying was shaky at best, but for a skill recently learned it was all right he guessed.
A moment later he landed on the small table that held his phone's station. The phone itself overshadowed him as if it was a statue of every phone in the world. Giant and immobile. There was no way that he could lift the phone or even operate it. Even if he could. What would he say? No one would believe him.
Meanwhile, the phone rang on and tormented Jerry's ears. Maybe he could at least silence it. He thought the situation over and came to the conclusion that pulling the phone line out of its socket.
Once again he leaped into the air. The plug was found quickly. He muttered a curse as that small thing was still half his current height.
He wrapped his arms around it and stemmed his legs against the wall. No matter how hard he pulled that thing didn't move. Probably rust or something. His phone wasn't the newest.
Maybe it was the still ringing phone that shortcutted his temper.
“If you don’t come peacefully, then brute force it is.”
He wrapped arms and legs around the plug. Holding with all his might he gave a strong swing of all his wings.
Wind shot past him yet again. Moments later he picked himself up. Quickly noticing that something was missing. Looking over he saw still that damn plug still in the socket.
He pointed theatrically at the plug and screamed from the top of his lungs. “Move you spawn of hell!”
It shocked him as a glittery light shot out of his hands. A second later it slammed into the plug and it flew out with force. In fact, it flew so forcefully away from the wall that it pulled on the phone station. Making it shift several inches. Jerry held his breath. That stupid thing tethered on the edge of the small table. Below it swung the phone-line like a pendulum.
“Oh damn it. Am I in a catastrophe movie directed by Michael Bay?”
Slowly the phone's station shifted and the whole thing tilted over the edge. It only took a second till it hit the floor and an earthquake made Jerry fall over.
A few inches to his right the phone bounced off the floor. With a deer in headlights look, he took it all in. Several seconds ticking by. Wearily he stared at the phone. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had exploded. Of course, he knew a normal phone wouldn't. Yet, in his crazy reality he found himself in, he certainly wasn't risking taking anything lightly.
When nothing happened for a few minutes he took flight. The first point on his list was to take stock of his new surroundings. His room looked familiar, but also strangely warped. With everything bigger, at least relative to him, the room became a vast unknown terrain. He certainly wasn't taking chances with anything mundane and ordinary. Not after the phone debacle.
Everything around him picked his interest and curiosity. He could easily waste all day with either exploring or just having fun flying around. Still, the rational part of him took charge. Water, food, and shelter. That's got to be his priority. Maybe watching that bear guy on the tv hadn't been such waste after all.
The best chance was his kitchenette. Water was first and easily found. He would never have thought that he would be someday happy that his faucet leaked. The food was found in the form of cereal. Damn was he happy now that he hadn't thrown the seemingly empty package away. There he found three rings of cereal as big as his torso.
Now he looked for shelter. The bread box caught his eye. A housewarming gift from a neighbor. The kindness never repaid as his money had been too tight for gifts.
He dragged his bounty over and took a look. The bread box was wooden and the size now of a big garage. Which was fitting, as it had closing mechanisms similar to that of a garage door. Thankfully he had left it half open. As he walked in he found what he expected. It was empty save for some breadcrumbs, evidence of its last and only occupant, and a checkered fabric covering the ground.
With that taken care of, he sat down and started to think. Next, he had to find a way back to his old body. Maybe something in the manuscript. He would, however, have to find a way to turn the pages.
There, a magic glowing ball of light might do more damage than help. Maybe he should explore a bit. Find tools that help him.
He was still planning when exhaustion took over. He never noticed that he drifted off to sleep in his new home. As small bread box covered in a white blue checkered cloth.
A loud banging sound woke him. Still groggy he got up. Looking over the surreal landscape he finally woke up for real. So no dream. He was a tiny female pixie and before him stretched the enormous cavern of his room. The banging must have been the door. Hesitated he flew closer.
“Open up Jerry. Your rent is due and if I don’t get it my father will be pissed. Come on. Open up!”
Damn, it was Melody. He quickly reasoned that this was one problem he couldn't handle in his current form.
Instead, he spotted his half open window. He didn't have to endure Melody's banging if he wasn't here. With enough reason to legitimate his curiosity, he had no reason not to stay here. With a tiny squeal, he took off. Immediately he noticed that his flying had gotten better. As if he had trained while sleeping. Of course, that hadn't happened, but he couldn't shake the feeling he had changed more.
Outside he surveyed his surroundings. To be caught out in the open was a bad idea. It would be safer to explore other apartments. Maybe someone had left a window open too. At first, he thought he had no such luck. Then he spotted a window that simply had closed by the draft.
As it wasn't really locked he reasoned that he could push it open. He raised his arm and again a glittery ball of light shoot outwards. The window didn't slam open like expected. Like his flying, he had sudden new insight and control. No doubt about it. He had learned it in his sleep. Maybe he could cast even new spells. Absent minded he slipped into the room. Not a good idea.
Suddenly he was tumbling through the air. Maybe it was his new found skill that allowed him to catch himself before he crashed yet again into the floor. Turning around he saw a freight train of fur speeding towards him. Narrowly he avoided the collision. He levitated as fast as he felt safe to a safe height. In maybe eight feet height he stopped and looked down to find out what exactly had attacked him.
Below, Jerry, two yellow eyes followed him. Gray striped fur and a swishing tail. Just his luck that he had to run into a house cat. From up here, she looked small and innocent. He exhaled and relaxed.
He vowed never again to underestimate seemingly empty apartments.
A sudden blur and the cat was gone. A creaking behind him was all he got as a warning. Turning around he saw the fast climb of the cat. Chair. Table. Air. End station Jerry. Again he narrowly avoided the ‘tamed' predator. Jerry had enough. As fast as he could he left the apartment. He returned to his own and his bread box.
Thankfully silence greeted him. With the excitement gone his heartbeat slowed down to normal. Moments later he dozed off again.
Jerry stood up and cursed. He was woken up by loud banging again.
He flew close to the door. After maybe five minutes the person outside gave up. Not soon after a sheet of paper was slipped underneath his door.
it’s Mike from work. The boss asked me to check in on you. You missed five days of work and no one can reach you.
Boss says if you don't show up on Monday that you are fired.
So see you soon right?
Jerry was astonished. Five days missed? That meant it was now Friday or already the weekend. Why was he tiring so easily and why did he sleep so long? He munched on a stale cereal ring and washed it down with water from the leaky faucet.
While he chewed he was thinking. Maybe he slept so long as a side effect from learning stuff in his sleep. If that was true then he just had to literally sleep it off. Of course, that was assuming he wanted to get used to his new body and it's capabilities.
He threw that idea out and focused on the here and now. Despite his bad luck, he knew he needed to continue exploring. For one he needed more food soon. On the other hand, time was ticking away. If Melody was already banging on his door then he might soon get evicted. Not something he looked forward to. Logic, however, dictated that a fast solution to his transformational mishap was unlikely. He needed a new hideout.
The wooden bread box drew his gaze. He barely had been awake the last few days. Despite that, he had strangely grown fond of his new home. It would be hard to give it up.
Being done with his breakfast he leaped into the air. Flying was already second nature to him. He experimented a little and noticed that his pushing or pulling had improved as well. With concentration, he could even constantly channel it and levitate small things.
Now came the hard part. He may have or have not new spells. He concentrated and willed them out of his subconscious. Nothing.
He felt ridiculous. A tiny pixie flying around naked. Meditating and praying for new magic.
He snickered. With no clothes around for someone the size of a pixie, he hadn't a choice. Even if he would find a Barbie doll, her clothes would be too big. He guessed it was up to him to make some.
His eyes widened in sudden realization. He could do it. He didn’t know how, but he knew every pixie had a spell to make herself clothes.
He landed on the kitchen counter. Standing on the counters rubber mat, he was ready to experiment. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He didn't know much about pixies or what clothes they wore. The pictures in the manuscript showed them in form fitting dresses made out of leaves. A sudden light behind his eyelids made him open them. In the palm of his hand was another glowing sphere of magic. Before he knew what to do it floated off his hand and slowly drifted down.
Suddenly the world exploded as it hit the ground. The rubber mat he was standing on came to life and grabbed him. No amount of shaking or wringing threw it off. It stopped as suddenly as it had started. After he calmed himself down he saw what happened. He stood on the counter. Directly on the wood of it. Around him was a hole cut into the rubber mat.
That, however, wasn't the only change he noticed. He got his wish. A form fitting dress, just like the ones on the pictures, and slippers graced his body. With a cringe, he noticed the material. The same rubbery material his countertop mat was made of. As he moved it squeaked annoyingly and it looked like a cheap plastic dress for an equally cheap toy. He hated it.
Escaping the dress proved more difficult than getting into it in the first place. No zipper or buttons. It took him ages to get the shoulder straps off and then slowly roll the whole mess down his body.
Free again, he decided to experiment. He reasoned that whatever material the sphere of magic hit would be sacrificed to make a new dress. That proved to be right.
The cardboard of the cereal box resulted in a Frankensteinian mix of cardboard robot and princess's costumes. The still not thrown away wrapper of a candy bar made him a walking billboard and drove him nuts with the crinkling sound.
He cringed at the thought what might happen if he used the spell on a stainless steel fork. For all, he knew it could result in a dress he would wear forever. The sponge in his sink looked like a puffy creation of a high-end fashion designer. Creations that are edgy, but never really worn.
In the end, he settled on the napkin dress. He felt a little silly, dressed in all white, but the dress was reasonably comfortable and didn't make strange sounds when walking.
With that impromptu point of his to-do list done, he checked how he felt. Curiously he wasn't tired at all. Even a little hyper. Maybe using magic revitalized him?
Maybe different spells might help him stay awake longer? Because dressing up all day was really not his idea of fun or living. So far he knew only basic pixie spells that every pixie could perform. How he knew that he didn’t know.
He gulped. Was he a pixie of the lust-tribe? He had tried to summon one. It made sense. Did he really wanted to uncover spells fitting for a lust-pixie?
Still, his curiosity won out. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Pretty soon he saw the telltale sign of light shimmering through his eyelids. Opening them, he saw a hot pink ball of glowing light. He cringed at the color even though it had been pretty likely that some of his spells had a pink color scheme. His body had, after all, the same color scheme too.
Unsure what to do he let the ball of pink light float free. It weaved around without focus. It reminded him of a dog sniffing to pick up a trail. Suddenly it froze midair and moments later speed towards Jerry. It slammed into his belly and he gasped.
A white hot fury burned in him. Not where the magic had hit him. Worse. On all the places he had dreaded to even think about the past few days. His vagina ached furiously and his arousal dripped in a constant stream. Only barely he managed to keep his hands away.
Of course banishing them above his belly line didn't help either. There, tiny, but stiff nipples begged to be played with. He needed something to shelter him from the onslaught. On instinct, he flew over to his bread box. As his feet touched the ground he crumbled.
Nothing could stop him now. One hand shot to his breasts while the other furiously rubbed his aching sex. A moment later his first female orgasm crashed through him. Still, it wasn't enough. Clear thinking eluded him as his world narrowed to the pleasure provided by his body. No matter how often he came it was not enough. The need burned a hole into his mind. He did whatever he had to do to achieve the next peak. The next sweet release. Hours later he drifted exhausted to sleep. Only to moan in his sleep as his hands still groped his body.
Again he was awoken by loud banging. A habit that he didn't care to develop. His ears registered muffled shouting, but not more. He didn't really care. His mind still too much absorbed by the previous night. With orgasms like that, he seriously was tempted to just say "Fuck it!" and stay like this.
His hands lazily roamed the contours of his body. Might be worth finding out how much the spell had contributed to his amazing orgasms. Now that the spell had worn off he was in perfect condition to provide a magically unassisted comparison.
He was about to spread his nether lips when a sudden sound broke through his haze and into his mind. The sound of keys unlocking a door. He quickly hid as best as he could in his bread box.
The door opened and in stepped Melody. Jerry cursed. Of course, it had to be her. He watched her exploring his apartment. Heard her cursing as she nearly stumbled over the phone. Dreaded the moment as she was close to the manuscript.
"Damn it the bastard ran away. No emptied mailbox. Unplugged phone. And he left all his junk too."
Melody cursed around unknowing that Jerry could hear everything. She randomly rummaged through his belongings. Suddenly he felt angry. He had to do something. Even if it was stupid and could lead to trouble. In a moment, when Melody's back was turned to him, he stepped out of his hiding place. With his arm raised, he willed his magic to show. It only took a second for the pink ball of light to manifest. With all his might he threw it as a pitcher might in baseball. Like a homing missile, the sphere rushed towards Melody. Slamming into her exposed skin right above her tramp stamp.
Melody fell down with a gasp. Her hands clawing at her revealing top and cheap short skirt to gain access to her own flesh. Once that was done she abandoned all modesty and masturbated as if it could save the world.
Jerry did sit down amused on the kitchen counter. No way she would notice him in a state like this. He wondered if he too had looked like a wanton slut in heat. Probably not much. Still, Melody fitted the role better. Her platinum hair with black ugly roots laying around her. Makeup so overdone that a drag queen might tell her to go easy with it. Lips so plump that they had felt the bite of a syringe more than once.
Of course, her breasts looked equally fake. It was a wonder that her butt hadn't been ‘enhanced' too. All in all, she looked to Jerry like a suburban cougar in the making. Just a few more years and some Jaguar print clothes. Worse was that despite all that she always acted so high and mighty. As of she was the cream of the crop.
Well, now Jerry had taken her down. He smiled as he saw her winding and squirming below. While Melody wasn't what turned him on, the way he had gotten his tiny revenge certainly made him hot. Lazily he lowered himself on the counter and looked over the edge. His own hand found his naughty bits and soon he too was moaning in pleasure.
It was when Jerry came down from his second orgasm. Something was different. The squirming below him had stopped. He smirked. Of course, not everyone had his stamina. The dirty grin quickly vanished as he saw that Melody was still awake. Her eyes riveted to him.
Getting caught was bad enough. Being caught by Melody was ten times worse. However, what's done is done. Now how should he proceed? Making a hasty exit could lead to her hunting him. On top, it would mean he had to give up his home. The bread box had really stolen his heart somehow.
Gaining her as an ally might be useful. Maybe he could levitate the pages of the manuscript. Maybe not. To gather the ingredients for another summoning ritual would be a lot harder. A human sized person on his side might be just what he needs. “Hi there. Had fun?” Jerry hadn't meant to say the second part, but it slipped out anyway.
Seconds ticked by till his words worked itself past Melody’s shock.
Jerry suppressed a snicker. So Melody was still in working order. Her brain not fried. At least not yet.
“What are you?”
“A pixie. Never seen one before?” Maybe Jerry should deal his attitude back a little, but on the other hand, he had too much fun.
"No, I haven't. Are you real?"
“As real as the orgasms you just had.”
“Oh my gosh! Was that you?”
“Duh. Felt awesome right?”
An awkward silence settled over them both. Each eyed the other warily. In the end, it was Melody who spoke first. “That was a neat .. trick. My name is Melody by the way.”
“I know. I am Jerry.”
"Oh, you have the same name as the dude who lived here."
Jerry palmed his face. Oh boy. Not the greatest start to work with. "Not past tense. I still live here. And I didn't run away. It's just hard to pay rent when you are as small as I am."
“Jerry? Really? No way. I mean .. how?”
“Short version? Tried summoning a Pixie. Became one instead.”
“Why did you try to summon a Pixie?”
Jerry shrugged. “Nothing better to do.”
Again an awkward silence descended upon them. A moment later Melody got up and moved over to Jerry who instinctively took flight.
“You look cute. What are you wearing?”
Jerry rolled his eyes. That was definitely not something he wanted to hear. Of course, she had to notice his dress. Pure white it stood apart from his rosy skin.
"Oh, that cheap thing? Made it myself. Calling it ‘contour de napkin'. And please don't call me cute."
"But you are and so adorable. I didn't take you for a fashion designer, though. How long did you work on it?"
Jerry rolled his eyes again. If he spends more time with Melody that might become a serious health risk habit.
“Two seconds. Because … Magic!”
“Oh? Show me!”
Jerry let his head hang. Of course, she would demand a demonstration. He grumbled as he knew he could have avoided that pitfall. Should he entertain her and hope that he still could use her as an ally or run and hope for better chances elsewhere?
In the end, the simple fact that he couldn't take the manuscript with him made the decision for him. "Fine. Do you've got a flexible material with you? Something you don't mind losing?"
“Like this?” She pulled something silken out of her purse.
At first, Jerry took it for a silken scarf, but it ended too soon. A handkerchief. Never in a million years would Jerry have guessed that Melody would have a handkerchief with her. And a silken one at that. It was a mix of blue, red and purple blotches that blended into each other. He hoped those were by design.
“Place it beside me on the countertop and then look away.”
“But I wanna see!”
“Oh damn. Fine!”
Annoyed, Jerry shrugged out of his napkin dress. He struggled to hide his breasts and new genitalia. Another thing he never thought he would do.
Of course, he had to reveal one area as he had to summon his magic. A moment later cool silk flowed over his curves and then tightened to a form fitting dress. Tenderly he moved around. The silk was a lot softer than the napkin dress. No way he would go back to anything else if he had the choice.
“And done? Did you like that magic show?”
“Oh my gosh. That was so neat.”
"Well, I hope I don't have to do it more often."
“Aww .. why?”
“Because I am a guy! And don’t tell me I don’t look like one right now. Inside I am still me. See the leather satchel on my coffee table? That’s my way back. It’s just hard to accomplish as small as I am.”
Melody followed his suggestion and walked over to the coffee table. Jerry leaped into the air and followed her.
“Oh my gosh! You can fly!”
Jerry rolled his eyes. Of course, Melody would state the obvious. He landed beside the leather satchel. “According to the manuscript in here every Pixie can.”
Melody got the papers out and carefully did go through them. “No wonder you made a mistake. I can barely read them.”
Jerry just shrugged and continued to watch. Melody had a few questions. All of them easily answered. Then she came to the chapter about summoning a Pixie.
“I think there is more to the title than you thought Jerry.” She picked up the paper and walked to the window. Curious about what she was up to he followed her. She held the paper against the window and the bright sun. Jerry cursed. The backlight revealed ink that was deeper in the paper and less faded.
“How to summon a pixie…from within. Sorry, Jerry. Looks like you didn’t make a mistake with the summoning spell.”
Jerry hovered with his mouth agape. If the spell worked correctly did that mean there was no counterspell? Was he stuck like that?
Filled with angst, he flew back to the only safe place he knew.
His bread box. Spying the half sacrificed handkerchief, he floated it over with magic. A moment later he was wrapped in it like a blanket and tried his best to forget the world existed.
Melody certainly made it hard for him. She was engrossed in the manuscript. Often switching positions between couch and window.
Now and then she would shout questions towards him and to his frustration, she repeated them till he answered.
Yes, he was a lust Pixie. Yes, it was in hindsight a stupid choice.
Maybe he should have paid more attention. It might not be the smartest idea to answer everything she was asking. However, right now Jerry was done with the world.
“Jerry! That bread box. Is that your home?”
Jerry grumbled. The question hit him deep inside. Was it? A few days ago he would have said his apartment is his home, but now it felt alien. Familiar yet estranged. Before it had been the house of his parents. He had never felt at home there. Too many expectations. To much guilt of being not enough. His tiny bread box. Yes. It felt like home. It was his and gave him a feeling of safety.
“Yes. Now stop with the stupid questions and leave me alone.”
If his gruff voice bothered her he didn't know. High-spirited she replied. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow and I think I can hold my Dad off until Friday. Till then we need a solution."
He heard the door close. Finally, he had some peace and quiet. Turning around he drifted off to sleep.
He woke up the next day. Still tired he munched on the last pieces of stale cereal and quenched his thirst. It was only then that he noticed that the manuscript was gone. Melody. She must have taken it with her.
He contemplated what to do. Go out and look for her? Stay inside where it was safe? She had told him that she would be back.
In the end, he practiced some magic and waited for Melody to show up.
It was early afternoon when he heard the key sliding into his door's lock. Quickly he rushed to a hiding spot. As it turned out it was just Melody. He chuckled about the absurdity to be happy about Melody showing up.
However, he reasoned she was still his best bet for help right now. Reluctantly he flew out and greeted her. After some forced pleasantries done she burst out with some news. “Well I haven’t found a way to turn you back, but I found a way to make you feel better. Just trust me.”
Jerry sighed. Trust Melody. But then again what choice did he have?
Melody walked over to his couch and coffee table to sit down. With her, she had a wicker basket. Not a normal sight for her. As she pulled a blanket back he saw to his relief the leather satchel with the manuscript.
"So how much did you get into the chapter about Pixie behavior?"
Jerry shrugged. “I skimmed it. Why?”
Melody gave him a grin that somehow made the fine hairs on his neck stand up. “Well according to this you need to use magic to stay healthy, be happy and awake. What I propose is that you use one spell a lot and we monitor how you feel? Okay for the spell. As much as I liked the orgasms you gave me I don’t think I would survive more than three or so. Your pulling, pushing and levitating is weak sauce. With that remains …”
She grabbed into her basket and pulled out a bunch of textiles. It looked like she raided the samples of a tailor. Jerry saw dozens of different colors and fabrics. Changing in front of her yesterday had been embarrassing enough and now she wanted it to do a bunch more. No way in hell.
Or so he thought. Another thought sneaked inside his skull. What if he used a lot of magic and became stronger. Maybe he would learn a spell to turn himself back. As much as he hated to admit it. Melody’s way would be the best and easiest to reach it.
“Fine. But we keep this strictly professional. No catwalk runs or other silly stuff.”
Eagerly Melody nodded and placed the first fabric besides him. He shrugged off his dress and let his magic flow. Once he was dressed he pulled the new dress off too and did the next.
After a half dozen Melody stopped to provide new fabrics.
“What’s wrong?” He had been just found his flow and didn’t like the break. He wasn’t going to admit it to her, but she was right. Somehow it was fun and improved his mood.
“Well. I was wondering. How much do you control it? Can you only do dresses?”
"Good question. I don't know. So far it always had resulted in dresses. The kind of dresses I saw in the manuscript."
“Maybe that’s the standard. We could try if you can make other stuff. Wait. Try this one.” She rummaged through the basket and pulled a fashion magazine. Opening it at an earmarked page. Totally spontaneous. Sure. Jerry knew Melody had planned this from the beginning.
"I told you. No modeling stuff."
"It's not. We need to start with small changes. Still a dress, but a different kind. If you manage that we go to the next. Baby steps!"
Jerry sighed but did what she wanted. He concentrated on the picture and then cast his spell.
“It worked! A little. Keep trying.”
It took fourteen tries till Melody pronounced it a success. The front of his dress looked just like the picture.
“Turn around so I see the back.”
Shrugging he complied. Then he waited. Becoming impatient he had to ask. “And?”
Suddenly an earthquake hit together with a loud gong-like sound. He fell to the floor. Ears ringing and the world spinning. Panic rose inside of him. What happened?
After most of his nausea settled down he noticed something curious. He was on the coffee table yet his right hand was leaning against a wall. As he looked around he saw a curved glass wall all around him. Up, above him, was the real terror. Two giant hands were holding down the glass that trapped him. They belonged to Melody who gave him a nasty grin.
“Look what I caught in a jar. Such a rare catch. Might be my lucky day.”
Jerry banged on the jars walls and shouted to her to release him. She simply ignored his plight. Like a villain in a movie, she took her time.
“You know. There was a very interesting passage in the papers. It’s about Pixie homes.”
Jerry cursed and kept on banging, but slowly he lost steam. Something was wrong.
“You see every Pixie needs one. Yours is that cheap little bread box”
Jerry felt himself getting lightheaded. In panic looked around.
“Or rather it was. Now, this jar is your new home.”
The lid! It formed an airtight seal. He was suffocating!
“It might take a few days, but soon you will only know this jar as home.”
He didn’t have days. Couldn’t she see that he was dying?
“And then you will be mine.”
He collapsed against the glass. His banging got weaker. That megalomaniac was killing him.
"Because whoever owns a Pixie home owns the Pixie too."
Merciful darkness cuts her off and Jerry slipped into a long dream.
Jerry woke up with a pounding headache. At least, he reasoned, it was better than being dead. Slowly he opened his eyes. The curved glass ceiling confirmed his dreaded suspicion. He was still trapped inside the jar. It now was laying on the side. The tin lid was punctured several times and its lid wrapped with duct tape. He doubted he could unscrew it even with magic, but at least he had access to fresh air.
He was resting on a bed made crudely out of paper tissue and another silken handkerchief. Below his silken blanket, he found the last dress he modeled. The same dress Melody had used to distract and trap him. With fury, he tore it from his body. He knew it was stupid, but his anger was overwhelming.
It was fueled by the blazing hate for Melody and the shame that he actually had trusted her. Angrily he punched the glass wall. Nothing happened. Not that he expected as much. The glass was too thick and too strong.
Behind it was an unfamiliar landscape. Gone was his apartment. His jar was on a shelf in a girls room. He didn't even need to guess who's room it was. The hapless thrown around cheap dresses told him all he needed to know.
He paced his small prison. Not an easy thing to do when the floor was curved. He still felt anger, but he knew no way to vent it. The whole situation made him mad. His options turned out to be pacing or trying to sleep.
All his spells looked impractical. His telekinesis spell couldn’t open the lid. There were just too many layers of duct tape. Moving the whole jar might be difficult and there was only one way to move it. Off the shelf and even with his amazingly resistant body he doubted he would survive it.
His arousal spell would probably bounce off the wall and would lead to a night long masturbation session of himself. Not the way he wanted to be found by Melody.
The clothing spell was a risk he wouldn't want to take. For all, he knew he would trade a glass jar prison for a glass dress shaped prison.
After he ran out of steam he plopped down on his bed and tried to sleep.
Hours later Melody returned home. At once, Jerry was on his legs and hammering the glass walls. At first, she simply ignored him. Then, after maybe an hour she had enough. Grabbing one of her discarded dresses she threw it over his jar.
Now, trapped in a dark twilight, he couldn't even see if she was still in the room. Soon he gave up his screaming and banging. What was the use for it anyways? It was clear that Melody couldn't be reasoned with.
He laid down on his bed again and tried to sleep. There was, however, something preventing him. Slowly it got stronger. A smell. First, it had been faint, but soon became penetrated his whole jar. Through the punctured holes in the lid drifted in the smell of Melody's cheap perfume and stale odor of sweat. Whatever air got to his jar first had to pass through the dirty dress.
He turned around and buried his face in the silk of the handkerchief. It didn’t help. It took hours till his exhaustion won over his anger and the irritating smell.
Five days later he was close to going mad. He could see Melody's room again. She had finally removed the dress. Now to his shock he had to admit that not only had he gotten used to the smell, he kind of missed it a little. What was wrong with him? As so often in the last few days he paced up and down his small glass prison. At first, he had stumbled a few times, but soon got used to the curvature of the floor. He still missed his bread box.
He even was slowly growing to appreciate the jar. It was cozy with the tissue and handkerchief bed taking up most of the floor. It wasn't too big and with the solid walls, it felt safe. He knew that was an illusion, but that voice of reason got smaller by the day.
Laying beside his bed was a small table out of folded paper. It looked skewed and pathetic. On it, a half-eaten blueberry. Courtesy of Melody. Today was the first day Melody had opened the jar. However only after getting his promise that he won't try anything. To his regret, he had complied. It must have been the hunger. Five days without food can do that to you, right? In return, for what felt like selling his soul, he got two blueberries, the ugly paper table and a few pieces of fabric. To train his magic she had said.
After gobbling down one and a half blueberry he could finally think clearly again. With it came the fury, shame, and regret. That was all he had left. That and a bundle of fabric snippets. He would be damned to even think to dress up again. It was what Melody wanted.
Still. Now and then his eyes darted to the bundle.
Jerry grinned and gave Melody another twirl. Another five days had passed. Ten since his capture. Three since he gave in and used the fabric to make more dresses. Melody opened now his jar daily. At first, he had meant to fight her, but he had been too grateful. Each day a little more. She fed him, gave him fabric to dress him and cared for him. Sometimes it got hard to remember why he was supposed to be angry at her.
Melody clapped and complimented him. He beamed proudly. For the first time, he had managed to not make another dress. Currently, he wore a skirt and a halter top. Melody wanted a tube top, but that would interfere with his wings.
"Thank you, Melody."
"Oh, you look so cute. Listen. I want to know something. Do you still see yourself as a man? I mean you wear dresses and now even skirts and tops. You even like dressing up. Would a man do that?"
Jerry blushed. Melody had a point. It was quite silly of him to do so. Jerry vowed to think from now on as herself as female. “No Melody. I guess not.”
"That's right. And should a woman wear a man's name?"
Jerry shook her head.
“I have the perfect name for you. From now on your name is Jeri.”
“But my name is already Jerry.”
“No silly. Jeri. One ‘R’ and an ‘I’ instead of a 'Y' at the end.”
"Oh, that is so smart Melody."
“Oh speaking of names. I don’t think you should call me Melody anymore.”
Jeri was confused. Renaming her made so much sense. But why would Melody want a new name? “I don’t understand! You are Melody.”
"Okay listen little one. Your home is this jar, right? And I own that jar. That means I own you too. Something I own shouldn't be calling me by my name. From now on I am your Mistress. Got it?"
Jeri hesitated. Something wasn't right. She didn't want to be owned, right? But what if Jeri was upsetting her by saying no? Would Melody take away her jar. She loved her jar. Maybe not at the start, but now she liked it. No way would she give up her jar. Not even for her old bread box. What had she seen in that thing? It had been so rustic and way too big. Not as cozy as her jar. Jeri knew she would do anything to keep her jar. Even calling Melody mistress.
“Sure thing mistress.”
“Great. Now show me how you look in that hot pink cloth.”
Jeri was lounging on her jar. A frequent habit she picked up after Melody allowed her out again. Of course, she was only allowed to roam around mistresses room. Outside was too dangerous. Jeri couldn't even think about a good reason to go outside. Every time mistress took her outside Jeri was so scared. Usually, that happened when she needed Jeri's magic.
Something that happened quite often. The old Jerry might have called her mistress a slut. Jeri knew better. Her mistress just had a big sexual appetite and now with Jeri's help, she could finally fill her need. All it took was a little spell at the right time and they couldn't resist her.
The first time had been the worst. She had a guy over. That was what? Maybe two months ago? Jeri cursed how much she lost track of time. It felt longer than two months when she had the first time blasted a guy on her mistress behalf. That guy was immediately horny beyond reason. He roughly shoved mistress on her bed and then fucked her like an animal in heat.
Jeri wanted so much to go in and help her mistress, but she had forbidden it. For Jeri, it looked too much like rape. Even with her mistress moaning in delight. The next few times she tried to reduce her strength. Of course, mistress found out and forbid her to hold back if the target was with the mistress in private. Luckily mistress didn't order her to watch. Falling asleep in her bed, when two people were going at it like animals, was hard enough.
Her reduced spell garnered her the dubious honor to escort mistress outside. A reduced blast filled most guys with enough lust to drop everything to be with her mistress. Be it their work, errand or girlfriend.
Sometimes Jeri felt bad. Her conscience told her it was wrong to force these guys. She so wished that her mistress would settle on one guy, but no she had to have them all. Consequences be damned. Of course, since mistress explained it to her Jeri had less of a problem with it. To those men sleeping with her mistress was the highlight of their pathetic lives. Did Jeri really have the right to deny them that?
So Jeri did what was asked and in the meantime, she had her hobbies. All of them approved by mistress. There was dressing up or learning to dress up better. Jeri had to read about a dozen women magazines for the latest trends. A waste of time in Jeri's opinion. No one came so close to perfection as mistress and her unique style.
Then there was the masturbating. Jeri was supposed to do it two times a day. Actually, she had the problem to do it just two times a day. Mainly because she had a lot of time on her hands. She even got used to mistress order to fantasize about guys doing her. She still preferred girls, but a certain curious voice had sneaked into her mind wondering how it would feel. Of course, she wouldn't have sex anymore with anyone. Besides her, no one was around in her size class. Neither men nor women.
She sighed. Still, three hours till her mistress returned. What else was she to do to pass the time? Both hands snaked down to her nether region and started their dirty deed.
Jeri yawned and continued scrubbing. She hated the chore, but mistress was adamant about it. Her mess. So it was her duty to clean it. She scratched at the glittery stuff lining the inside her jar. Stupid Pixie dust. It totally surprised Jeri, when it happened the first time. She was masturbating like usual. When she climaxed her wings suddenly shuddered and sprayed a fine mist everywhere.
Jeri was freaking out till mistress had come back home.
"Finally! Jeri, now you are a real mature Pixie."
Obviously, mistress had known. Read it probably in that book. Jeri meanwhile was confused and had actually being told what was going on.
New Pixies were small and had only access to a small amount of magic. Over a few month, they grow. Jeri hadn't even noticed till mistress held a ruler beside her. She had grown from about two inches to just over five. No wonder her jar felt a little smaller.
Then came the point when her body had grown out and the magic surpassed its capacity. If she was full of magic and attracted more, it would shed off in the fine dust she was now scrubbing. With her being a lust Pixie masturbating was one of her natural ways to refill her magic.
Mistress was collecting it as if it was worth its weight in gold. She liked it so much that she had ordered Jeri to only masturbate in her jar with the lid closed. Of course with Jeri being so active in that department she had to clean her jar every other day. Not just clean it, but to collect the dust too.
Jeri was half done when suddenly the door burst open. Jeri froze till she noticed that it was her mistress storming in. She flung herself on the bed and groaned.
Hesitantly Jeri looked out of her glass. “Mistress? Something wrong?”
"Something wrong? SOMETHING WRONG?! I tell you what is wrong. They all are avoiding me. No one dares to come even close to me. I haven't been laid in like three days!"
Jeri sighed. In her opinion, it had to happen sooner or later. Most of her mistress frequent bed partners had wised up and avoided her now. Somehow they couldn't trust themselves around Melody. Jeri felt a little ashamed again for her role in it.
She crawled out of her jar and looked at her mistress. What to do? The longer she was without sex the more her temper got the best of her. Leading to increased risks for Jeri as she had to accompany her mistress farther and farther away from her jar.
"Maybe mistress could masturbate to take the edge off? I could give a certain push.."
Jeri half expected her suggestion to fail, but to her surprise, Melody actually thought about it.
“Damn it. Fine. Blast me with all you got and tomorrow we go out to hunt.”
“Yes. Come on little one. Show me what you’ve got.”
Jeri gave a small whistle. It had been some time since she last blasted her mistress. She feared a little how strong it would be now that she was a ‘mature Pixie’. She took a few seconds to really gather her magic and let it fly towards her mistress.
The effect was immediate. Melody tore her clothes if her and grabbed, pulled and rubbed her body with reckless abandon. Jeri smiled. That's how she liked it. No men. Just her mistress giving her a show. Jeri laid down herself and peeked over the shelf's edge.
Seeing her mistress glistening in sweat and hearing her moan made her aroused too. Surely mistress wouldn't mind if she did it once outside of her jar. Jeri's hand sneaked down, while her eyes were still glued to her mistress.
Suddenly a small quake rattled Jeri. Mistress laid the wrong way on her bed. In her throws of passion she had kicked out and hit the wall. Jeri snickered. It happened a few times more. Jeri didn’t care. She was so close too.
Suddenly her mind registered a strange sound. Something rolling. Oddly intrigued she stopped and looked around. What she saw made her eyes as big as saucers. All the kicking had made her jar jump its holding place. Now slowly it rolled towards the edge.
“Mistress!” Jeri cried out in panic. Just as she scrambled onto her feet the jar tipped over the edge. She took flight and started her chase. Gathering her magic to levitate her jar as it had already traveled half way down.
A blink later and her jar shattered on the ground. Jeri landed on the closest place available and screamed in anguish. Her beloved jar was gone. Over her own tears, she could hear her mistress moaning. Melody hadn't even noticed the tragedy. Suddenly Jeri wasn't sad anymore. She was furious. Melody had always been selfish. This proves it just once again.
In fact, the past few month had only been about Melody and her wishes. Why had Jeri even listened to her? Jeri looked down at the scattered shards of what had once been her home. No that wasn't right. Hadn't it been her prison? How could she ever forget what Melody had done to her? Somehow she had been brainwashed. Ever since that jar came down on her Jeri had acted strangely. She just hadn't noticed. Worse. Melody had told her as much. Whoever owns a Pixie home owns the pixie. With seething hate, she looked towards the woman that had robbed her of freedom and mind for months. But what could she do? She was just five inches.
Melody’s moaning got weaker and Jeri started to panic. Once Melody was clear minded again she would try to catch Jeri again.
At once, Jeri cast another arousal spell. Not as strong. She had spent most of her mojo earlier. Then she leaped into the air. For now, Jeri had to get away. In a frantic way, she looked through the house for a way out.
Spotting a half open window she shot out. Freedom! But what now. Jeri decided to get as much distance between her and Melody as possible. While her tiny body flew down the street her mind raced with her. Her mind had been bent worse than a pretzel. Was she back to her usual self? Clearly not. She still thought of her as a woman. Wasn't even sure if she wanted to go back to being male or human. All she needed was a safe place and some time to think things through.
Looking down she noticed her clothing. The knotted string top had been once a lacy stocking. Her skirt was so short that it barely earned its name and was some elastic plastic Melody had found. She was looking like a slut. Disgusted Jeri tore the clothes off her body. She rather flew in the nude than dressed like a winged whore version of a Barbie.
By now Jeri had slowed down. Her fight or flight instinct slowly settling down. She guessed she was ten to twelve blocks down the road. The neighborhood around her had changed from three-story apartment complexes to suburban one family homes.
Now, what? Go as far as she could from Melody and leave it all behind. It certainly was tempting. Only her conscience reminded her of the little fact that Melody still had the manuscript. She wouldn't look long for Jeri. It was rather likely that she found some poor sap and got him to perform the ritual. Something Jeri couldn't let happen.
Looking around he spotted a few houses that appeared run down. Maybe abandoned? She zigzagged around in search. Getting more urgent minute by minute. All the spells and flying had tired her out.
There. One building looked less run down, but there was a hole in one of the windows. Cautiously, Jeri investigated. Once she slipped in she was greeted by dust and furniture hiding under big white blankets. So far so good. Carefully she examined her surroundings. The gray blanket was even and undisturbed. No one had entered the house for years.
Now she needed to find a spot to hide and sleep. Of course, everything had been stowed away. With her last strength, she opened cupboards and shelves in the kitchen. By now using magic tired her really out. Then she hit the jackpot. One of the lower shelves contained cans and mason jars. All filled with goodies.
The last owner must have been a prepper, her tired mind reasoned. Off to the side was one large jar laying open and on the side. Eagerly Jeri climbed in and only then noticed the oddity. Did she escape one jar to crawl into another? Maybe not everything from Melody's brainwashing had worn off.
Jeri gave a heartfelt yawn and leaned against the curved wall. Nothing furnished this jar, but it was the best thing she found so far. She could look for something else later. She had to rest. Today was done. Tomorrow, however, was a different matter. Tomorrow Jeri will start a war. Tomorrow, Melody will learn to rue the day she garnered the fury of a Pixie!
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