He sat up, groggy, as if too many cups had danced in his head. His robes were heavy, his crown squeezed his head too tightly, his skin felt clammy. Sweat trickled down his face.

An erection made a tent out of the pollen-stained black velvet over his groin.

"What is this?" Oberon said, getting to his feet and smoothing down his robe. "What's going on? Where is everyone? Titania? Where are you?"

He took a few staggering strides, wiping his face with his sleeve, tossing the crown aside, peering into the darkness for his lady's magic form. His vision sundered the night, but he found only more darkness.

He stopped. "What am I saying? Why am I talking like--" He glanced at his feet. A cluster of yellow and red-fringed flowers lay half-crushed under his boot. He stepped back. Knelt. With a shaking hand, he picked at the broken petals. The fragrance tantalized him. The name was on the tip of his tongue, the edge of his memory. But he could not spit it out.

Worse than that, he had mutilated a part of his soul. The flowers, the forest, they were all a part of the magic that was the foundation of his existence. How could he have thoughtlessly stepped on the flowers? How could he have forgotten the names of those parts of his kingdoms that were as close and familiar to him as his own name? Why did he speak like some human country-clod?

The truth struck him. The magic was gone. Vanished, like the court, like Titania. The moon and stars hid from him in shame.

He body was burdened with mortality's crude needs and foul excretions. He had become a thing of mere flesh and bone, raw desire and clouded thoughts.

He searched the darkness of the world around him and the murky depths of his own mind for an answer. He found none.

But he discovered a name belonging to a spirit who might know about such an odd reversal, who was familiar with tricks and confusion, who reveled in the bumblings of those trapped in its web of chaos.

Oberon closed his eyes, balled his fists, took a deep breath and cried out: "PPPPUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!"





Bottom woke into a dream of a forest at night, by which he knew he was having another vision, like that time at the wedding.
"I'm back," he said, getting up from a bed of mushrooms and brushing dead leaves and bugs from his clothes and head. He stopped when he reached his ears. Pointed, floppy, over-large ears. "Yes, I'm most definitely back," he said, tracing the shape of his new head. "A horse, surely, and not an ass." He reached into his pants to see if the transformation had touched a more delicate region of his anatomy, but was disappointed to discover the rest of his body had retained its human proportions. "Well, if it is a horse, it's in head only, and not the head that counts," he said wistfully. "I won't be bragging about my dreams tomorrow morning."

"Don't be too sure," a voice with a feminine lilt said, from nearby.

Bottom looked around, probed the darkness with his animal eyes. The voice's sweet teasing tone aroused him, and he wished for moonlight to make out the silhouette of his desire.

A figure separated itself from the trees. Slim, perhaps too thin for his taste. No meat on her bones, unlike those kitchen wenches and char women who occasionally fell to his not inconsiderable charms. Nothing like that Titania he had met the last time. But not every fairy could be a queen, he thought. And who was he to pick and choose, with a brain full of fairy dust and a beast head without the plumbing to match?

"There's never a thing that's sure," Bottom replied, swelling his chest and thrusting his cod-piece covered crotch an inch or two forward. "Though there's adventure in discovering what is certain, and what is not."

"Yes, well," the figure said, resolving itself into fairy form, taller than Bottom anticipated, "I never would have thought to find heat in a mortal body, but here I am, burning wet, slippery smoldering, tongue in bondage to keep it from poetry but soul aching for a poem of thrust and squeeze, rub and cum. Who would have thought mere meat could tempt such as I to taste it? A bizarre spell has fallen over the land, I suspect. But suspicions are husbands to wandering wives of reason when appetites are stoked. I am ready for adventure, brave buck."

Bottom scratched his head. He let his pants drop, undid his shirt and slipped out of his clothes until he was naked. He held his arms out and thought to smile, though how his strange lips and teeth arranged themselves, he was not certain. "Then come explore this new shore you've chanced upon, fair lass."

The fairy approached, shedding gossamer veils until the pale, flat, bony strip of meat beneath was left to glow like luminescent tree moss. "I suspect you'll be exploring some new territories, as well, good mortal."

Bottom looked down at the touch he felt against his cock, stretched beyond its limit, gorged on unfulfilled desire until it was ready to burst. He scratched his broad cheek and said, with a trace of puzzlement, "Are we supposed to duel, now?"





Puck tittered and rolled, hopped back up to his feet and flipped backwards, scaring a nest of moths into flight when he landed in a bush. He tasted an unripe berry, spit it out, scowled. Then he caught sight of the two figures facing each other and laughed again.
"Oh, this is rich, this is better than the last time," Puck said, running, racing against the speed of his thoughts. "Sweet and reckless, bold and wild. Forty times round the world I can run, and up and down to the moon, as well, and then the past, so why not the future? No world is beyond my reach, no time too far gone or so unimagined in the yet to be that I cannot plant my feet in it and say hello. How are you? What are these things you call genes? How is it a tweak here, a pull there, and suddenly species mingle and natures change? Yes, and fairies have them as well, you say? No. Yes? Well, and this little bottle, this clear liquid, it will bring changes? I understand, of course, the device of metal and buzzings is much better. Yes, control is a good thing. To be cherished. Raised above all things. But you see, my lord and lady, they control so much, already. The burden of magic, of fairies and flowers and powers invisible but potent, wears them down. They stare at each other, at their court, and worse, their bed, and see pressure instead of pleasure. 'Would that the world might change, if only for a moment,' one of them whispers. Which one, I cannot say. Perhaps it was only a voice in my head. But off I ran, round and sideways, up and down. Past and future. Searching for just such a thing as what I see in this vial. A little like the love juice my master Oberon once sent me for, but not quite. More interesting. More fun. Good-bye. Farewell. Too-do-loo. Back to kiss the fairies' eyes with a drop of this future wonder. On the way, a quick stop for that favorite fool. Good Bottom, teach us how these mortal hungers work? Yes, and a good teacher you are, and here, let us teach you a bit, as well, about a different dish or two that might curb the appetite just as fast. Drop, drop, one for each fairy. Step back and see what happens. Kiss myself with it, as well, why not? Everyone else always has such fun, why not I?

"Oh, hold, my Queen, I'm on my way. I know you hunger, I know you thirst. I know you're as horny as a rhino in Africa, bless that beast and land. Oberon will find his own entertainment soon enough, I wager. Regress. Digress. Genes jump and play. Make us mortal, make us magic, make us things we dare not phantom.

"Though I really wish we'd kept the poetry."





"I'll kill the little son of a bitch," Oberon said, striding through the forest, trying not to step on any more flowers. "What an idiot. What a royal pain in the ass. What a--"
"Dousing for water, my lord?" a voice called from above.

"Or are you just happy to see us?" said another, from below.

And in a flash, his robes were gone and he was down, straddled by an amazon fairy, armor and arms gone, golden thighs and silver hair shining in his face.

"So long we've guarded you and your lady," the one pinning him to the ground said.

"So long we've kept you from harm," said the one coming to stand over his head.

"So long we've wondered," the third said, kneeling by his hip.

"Just how long you are," said the fourth, before she licked his toes.

"Get away, get off of me," Oberon protested.

"My Lord, our world has changed, has it not?" said the one on his chest, tweaking one her nipples with one hand, one of his with the other. She smiled at his gasp of surprise. "What was magic is now base, what was love is now lust. Dream has turned to reality, illusion to hard flesh."

"And how hard it is," said the one by his hip, dipping her head, flicking her tongue along the tip of his cock.

"The Moon hides her light and children, the stars, this night, my Lord," the one above him said, shaking her head, her mane of hair, like a lion before the feast."No one else will see or know, or even remember, I am sure, what happens during this mad time."

"Let yourself go, Lord," said the guard standing above Oberon's head. She lowered herself, slowly, the slit between her legs parting like a secret cave revealing itself only for him. "Be the slave of your new mortal body, be the servant of your desire. And ours, as well."

"What was high must go low, my Lord," said the one at his feet, tickling his soles with razor-edged nails. "Even for a little while. We will guard your pleasure as well as we ever guarded your safety."

Giggling, drunk on the musky scent of his guard's pussy, Oberon struggled under his captors' weight. He tried to push one arm up, then the other, but could not bring his strength to bear against the straddling fairy amazon's knees.

"Yes, struggle more, just like that," she said, her voice becoming husky, words slurring as she shifted back and forth across his chest and ribs. The door to her womb burned against his skin. His nipple rubbed against her clit. A middle rib curved inward another inch under the pounding of her body as she searched for the right angle, the perfect parabola of muscle and bone, that would lead to her ecstasy.

Then moist darkness clamped itself over his face, and Oberon saw no more of the pleasure written on her face. Instead, he had a taste, bitter at first, then sweet as it ripened under his attention, of the second guard's fruit on his tongue as he found himself lapping her pussy. His nose burrowed deep into the amazon's body. Fluid dribbled into his mouth, filled his nostrils. He gasped, choked, coughed. Shook his head from side to side, sucking for air. Her clit danced across his face, poked his eyes, nestled in his mouth, eager to take the place of the breath he was trying to draw into himself.

Lightning sensation shot up his legs, blasting the base of his spine with fire and light. The guard at his feet had settled herself over him, trapping his legs between her thighs, pinning his knees under her humping hips. Her tongue danced over, around and between his toes. She sucked at them, one at a time, then in pairs, and finally stuffed five at a time into her groaning throat.

Then ten. He felt as if he were being swallowed whole, sliding down a slick, curved tunnel to some demonic underworld where throbbing walls tickled and teased, massaged and squeezed.

The amazon pulled his feet out of her throat and, between quick breaths, nibbled and bit his toes, ran her teeth over the soles and tops of his feet, licked and kissed his ankles. His muscles twitched and spasms seized his body as sensations raced like chariots up and down his muscles, tearing up any notion of control he might have had. He danced like a marionette on a string, with the strength and wildness of a madman. He hoped he might break away with the surge of power born from his frenzy, but his guards held him firmly and he still could not free himself.

A weight settled over his abdomen, across his thighs. The faint, rough sensation that had been tracing a circular path around the head of his cock suddenly blossomed into a wet, lapping ocean of pleasure. His body jerked, drawn to the orifice that was suddenly sucking his dick and balls. Anchored by the one swallowing vortex at his feet, Oberon felt as if his body was being stretched like some child's elastic candy by the other mouth. The lightning raking the base of his spine crackled up his spine and raked the inside of his skull. Colors flashed on the inside of his eyelids, to the rhythm of the double whirlpools drawing his body back and forth on a tide of raw sex between rival sources of consummation.

Oberon lapped desperately in the cavern of flesh over his face, as if he might dig his way out and find release from the relentless stimulation crashing over his body. Between gasps of breath, he darted his head in every direction, like a wild horse panicking in blinders. Fingers reached into his mouth, directed his tongue to the pearl of flesh that was the amazon's clit, re-positioning and focusing him for her pleasure. Relaxing into the firm hand's command, he sucked and bit, trying to consume the node of his guard's pleasure just like the mouths that were devouring his own sensitive and undefended points. Bound by his guards' muscle and weight, brought all his attention to the work his own mouth was performing. As if he might gain control over his own body by distancing his mind from it with the work of pleasuring. As if he might resume a portion of his kingly dignity by making one of his assailants lose her own self-control.

The first orgasm stunned him, before it was swallowed by eager lips.

The second shocked him, and he managed to lift the guards on top of him as he arched his back and cried out, his voice muffled by pussy, his cum lapped up by three eager mouths.

The third drained his body as cum shot straight up like a geyser and showered his body and the amazons.

His guards laughed with delight and hailed him as Oberon, Lord of Fairies, King of Night. Slave of Passion

And they did not stop. Bodies shifted. Legs scissored his head, breasts mashed his face, nipples slipped in and out of his mouth, which he nipped and sucked. His cock, flagging after three bursts, stiffened under playful stroking. Became stone when fingers pried his ass open, forced their way into him. A fist balled, stroked up and down in his ass. His eyes widened at the new sensation. Then the velvet glove of fairy pussy settled around his cock and squeezed with iron strength, and Oberon fell back into the soft forest earth and surrendered himself to whatever pleasures were to come.

"We've done the other thing," said Bottom, as the fairy humped frantically from behind, "and I must say the seasoning was quite unique." He smacked his lips, remembering the salty, thick liquid spurting into his mouth the first time, his throat the second and third. He was still a little dizzy from the back and forth rocking of his head, and the roof of his mouth was as sore as his knees and rear. As for his belly, he was sure it had already had its fill after three strong pulls on the fairy lad's keg key. Now it and the pipes leading out were getting ready to burst, stuffed as they were with the eager fairy's discharge coming up the other way. "And we've been doing this a while," he continued, cocking his head back at his rider, "so long, in fact, that I'd swear that tree over there was only a seed when we began."
"Are you weary, my sweet ass?"

"Well, not I, by name, but my ass, it is getting as worn to the nub as your good stick must be, by now."

"Oh, but I am not worn or weary, good mortal mount. I can ride for as long as my fair steed does not collapse."

"Well, I'm not complaining. I've always been one to seek out education, or take it as it comes, wherever I may be. I like to pass the wisdom I've earned to my close fellows, for it makes fine conversation, and makes me look good, as well. And you know how important it is to cut a serious figure in the society of one's sometimes ignorant and occasionally less than sober comrades." He held his head high, as if to show off the figure he cut to his friends against the night's backdrop.

The fairy giggled and jiggled.

"However, I might have some difficulty passing along the secret knowledge you've been so kind to share with me to my fair fellows, as they are not as broad-minded as I. Some might even say they are priggish and narrow."

"You mean you still don't know how to broaden what is narrow? My heart is crushed, if not my heart's tool."

"No, no. I doubt only my power to broaden, especially as you've yet to let me test my skill in that arena. But I was wondering, purely from an educational point of view, if there was any other thing you might show me, not only for the sake of variety -- not to say that my time here has entered a period of tedium -- but also for the purpose of presenting a more convincing, if not seductive, argument to my good fellows when this vision finally leaves me."

The fairy stopped, withdrew, crossed his arms and considered Bottom's sweaty body draped over a fallen tree. "It would not be just of me to fail you in your education, particularly since your form has proven to be such an enlightenment to me in this most unmagical time. You wish a convincing argument for your fellows? A firm, no doubt severe, philosophy which will sway their brutish minds? A manly presentation, yes, full of martial vigor. A game, perhaps, like merry maids or thorns and flowers."

The fairy rushed away. Bottom stood, glanced around the forest, headed for the pile of his clothing. Disappointed by his abandonment, he considered everything he had learned as he stood over his clothes. The mouth of a den beckoned to him from the base of a nearby tree.

Then something tackled him from behind, and before he could fight, Bottom found himself bound tightly by vine and leather straps and belts. He opened his mouth; before he could utter a protest, a cloth-covered ball of firmly-packed herbs was stuffed between his lips and tied in place.

He looked up the fairy standing over him and moaned.

"Ah, the sweetest poetry I've yet heard mortals make," the fairy said. Kneeling, the fairy fingered Bottom's ear. "Now there's a thing your comrades might understand. Bound, hand and foot, prisoners in the war of manly mortal love. Now, to your other complaints. For variety, and a means to further bend the ears and minds of your comrades, I have a suggestion. One I myself would never have imagined, except for the fact that you have a most wondrous head, with the largest and yet still delicate, even enticing, ears I've yet seen on man or beast. What say we test the limits of that most fascinating of orifices, the ear of an ass?"





"Puck?" Titania called out.
He came, the sound of the Queen's voice trickling down from his ears to the bottom of his balls, swirling around as they bounced against her flesh, firing up his cock in the company of white lightning cum, shooting out again, this time without making a sound.

"Oh yes, yes, my Queen, speak again, speak, that honey voice soothing my rough, raw hunger. So many years, centuries, time without time, I've dreamed, you, I, what mad love we could make, when I had time to dream that is, when Oberon was not handing some task to me like plate leavings to a dog, oh yes, my Queen--"

"Puck?" she said again, this time snapping her fingers before his eyes.

He saw her fingers wave in front of him and came again, feeling the walls of her pussy around his rock-hard cock vibrate from his relentless thrusting, steady, without a break or shift in rhythm, without leaning to the left or right, up or down, without searching for the source of her pleasure or even trying to discover a new angle for his own satisfaction. The sight of her fingers were enough to push him over the edge.

But even over the edge, his cock stayed hard, pumping from reservoirs untapped for centuries, to the beat of his racing heart.

"Puck, dear," Titania said, re-arranging her mushroom pillow

"All these years, I've wondered, you, the King, everyone in court, those mortals, wanting, tasting, touching, humping, it's all about the humping, isn't it? Yes, I see now, what fun, what joy, I never knew, not really, how could you be bored? I could do this forever, but the King, he was not happy, and you, no, no, but now, my Queen, even if the King comes, who would you choose? Don't answer, no, not now, I know, and even if I don't, I know he's busy yet, so we have time, and if we don't, I'll make some--"

"Puck, when do you think you'll be through?"

Digging, shoveling, boring down into the heart of her pussy, he gazed at Titania's lips. And came.

"Time is no time for me, my Queen." He held up a glass vial. "Tweak another gene?"

Titania sighed.





Oberon staggered as quietly as he could along forest paths. Somewhere behind him, the amazon fairies slumbered, exhausted. Satiated. Or, at the least, weary enough to take a nap before making him leap once more into their breaches.
He started at every rustle at his feet, flinched at the brush of leaves against his face. Pools of darkness held invisible hordes eager to tear off his freshly recovered robe and crown and throw him to the ground. Again. The smell of rich earth and the scents of night blooms, still unnamed in his mind, their magic lost, reminded him only of the rich lust he had spent the night quenching. In his guards. In himself.

He resolved, in the future, that his guards would spend more time pursuing their own pleasure, on their own and away from him, and less on the constant vigil over his safety. His world, he decided, would be a safer place for it. If he could only regain that world.

For now, it was the mortal world that sang in his heart and mind. Hunger for flesh gnawed at his loins; tingled in his mouth and tongue; simmered in his thoughts. He yearned to run into another detachment of his guards. Or a gathering of courtiers. Servants. A healthy stag. A wild pig.

But it was wrong. All wrong. Titania was gone. Puck was running wild. The forest -- his forest, his kingdom -- was a place both fearful and promising. Reason was lost and fairy games had forgotten the lightness of play.

The kingdom had to be set right. The moon must shine, along with the stars, and the magic had to bless the land again. Fairies could only go so far on mortal appetites. What need was there in the universe for another race so easily lost to passion, so quickly submerged in madness? Puck had to be found, and his tricks once again unravelled.

Oberon roamed fairy land's secret paths. Twice he hid from roving bands of his own guards, once by climbing a tree, the next by diving into a pond and remaining submerged until the rovers had moved on, tracking other fertile game. He came upon courtiers enmeshed, layered, chained like daisies for the May King's crown. Beasts coupled, against the pairings Nature intended. He saw the ass head, again, and his bottom, as well. Vines clung to his feet, seeming to kiss and tongue his toes, while tree limbs sought to ensnare him in woody carnal delights.

He ran, more desperate than ever, searching out all the Queen's favorite places.

He found them in the clearing where he and Titania first met. Their entanglement had proceeded further than his own initial probes. He watched, discovered that Puck had not moved beyond the first plow of the field and was, in fact, threatening to salt the earth with his brand of farming.

"Puck!" he shouted, no longer able to contain himself. Half of him wanted to join them, entering Titania from the rear, or perhaps Puck. The other half wanted to kill Puck.

Oberon frowned and shook his head, as if to free his mind from the burning rages of mortal passion. He stepped forward, grabbed Puck by the neck, held him high in the air.

"My Lord!" Puck exclaimed. He leered, positioned himself so his cock was only a finger's length from Oberon's mouth.

Oberon licked his lips.

"Come joint the feast, my Lord," Puck said. "There is more than enough for all."

"So I see. But I seek another dish, Puck. One with a throne, and a Queen by my side. And courtiers, servants, guards. Satisfied, well-entertained guards."

"But, my Lord, this feast I've served for your entertainment. Did you not wish for variety? For spice and seasoning in your life, your rule?"

"I asked for nothing, Puck, but spoke only idle thoughts, spoken in a moment of weakness. I had no wish to surrender my kingdom, my reason, the magic that marks us all as belonging to a world different than that of mortal flesh."

"The least of King Oberon's thoughts are my sole work," Puck said, with a nod and a wink. He thrust his hips out. His cockhead poked Oberon's lips."The least of my attributes are yours to command."

Oberon knocked Puck's head against a tree. "Then hear my command, Puck. Set things right. Let those set high be returned to their place, with all respect and deference due to them. Let those set below resume their station in the order of things. Let Nature, and the nature of this place, return to their first-born state.

"Before I take a bite of your cock and shorten your brag as well as your life."

Puck squealed. Smiled. Vanished.

Oberon went to his Queen and set her head in his lap.

"Please, my lord," she said, eyes fluttering, "not now. My head aches with a constant pounding."

"Be at peace, my Lady," King Oberon answered. "All will be set right."They waited in the night, King and Queen, while around them the forest voices moaned and groaned and cried out.

Then, through the wind-tossed canopy of leaves, a star shone

"What light, through yon bower breaks -- no, that is not what I meant to say. But the poetry is coming back. And the magic. I feel it in my bones, my soul. And you, my Queen?"

"What I feel, my King, you should hope you never will."





Bottom woke from his dreams with a sour taste in his mouth, a head full of ideas he had never dreamed of before, and a stiff cock.
"Good fellows," he shouted, scrambling from his bed to search for his old companions. "Come, buy me a drink so I may wash this foulness from my gums and loosen my tongue to teach you philosophies you have never before dreamed of."

His friends fled, and he gave chase. Though running with a stiff cock proved a hindrance.





Puck watched the stars glitter beyond the Moon's frown that seemed reserved for him alone.
"I am sorry, Mistress. I meant no harm, only good pleasure."

The Moon gave him no response.

"Save your words, then, Mistress, and hear me not. For I spy, among the stars in your train, worlds like ours spinning around grand suns, with folk fair and horny, and full of good fun. Would you miss me, I wonder, if I went off for a while to visit the fleas that reside in your fair bed, perhaps to play with them?"

The Moon remained silent.

"A good answer, and a fair one, Mistress Moon. Give my regards to King Oberon, should he ask for me. And to the Queen -- well, perhaps you should keep your silence with her." Puck bowed. Leered. And vanished.

Then the Moon smiled.

To smile more broadly when, in good time, Puck made his return with all the new games he had learned among the stars.