Of faeries and footage.

The fae girl looked up at her host, searching his expression for comfort… but was met with raw hunger. She recognized the glimmer in John’s eyes too well, having seen it in those of court nobles and pitiless Winter. A lust for power, the urge to lay claim to another’s will. She shuddered under that gaze.

John wondered just how far he could go, just what he could ask of the fairy that she’d agree to. It was a simple truth that he likely held her life in his hands; kicking Adorabelle out would be throwing her to the mercy of the beast that had hunted her to his doorstep, none. He had no illusion what would happen, and neither did she. Whatever he demanded, it was that or ****.

His mind wandered to ideas: asking the pixie to strip was the obvious one but lacked... impact. Why settle for just that when he could have so much more? She was too small for some things, yes, but that only meant that John had to be creative. After all, she had hands and thighs, and a pretty little mouth.

But why stop there?

She’d mentioned servitude. Legends always spoke of pixies and the like serving wizards and witches as familiars… He could demand that Adorabelle act as his for a few days… no, a month. A year. Hell, why not for the rest of his life?

What’s she going to say? No?

John didn’t need to settle for one or two paltry favors, not when he could demand everything. He could make the fairy into his Fairy. All it would take was a simple spell, one that he knew as well as his own heart.

Adorabelle
Level 6 Trickster
<Titania’s Attendant>
[Capturable]

He opened one hand and called forth the purple fire, weaving it into a symbol that felt so familiar. A burning crown of twisted light, a perfect reflection of who he was meant to be. All he had to do was embrace that and take what was meant to be his. It was so easy...

So why… why did this all feel wrong!

The text above the fae’s head flickered, and a portion of it vanished. Simultaneously, the magic between his fingers destabilized and collapsed, taking with it any understanding of the spell he’d been about to cast.

John blinked at his open palm. He stared at its emptiness until an interface popup appeared in front of it.

Error: Recombinant Memory Failure - τύραννος
Identity Overwrite Resisted!

It lasted only a second before being replaced by a different prompt.

Skill Rank Increased ~ Planning 1 -> 2
Improved m????y r??e??i?n ??d cla????.

What the...

John let his fingers close, dismissing the popup. He felt odd, not nauseous or in pain but just wrong, somehow. The thoughts he remembered felt alien, his and yet... not his at the same time.

...hell was that?

He looked up, eyes seeking something to focus on while his brain tried to make sense of the inexplicable urge, only to lock gaze with the horrified fairy. Adorabelle visibly shook, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked up at him with an expression of such raw fear that he was taken aback.

“You can stay,” John blurted out instinctively, “for as long as you want, and I won’t ask anything of you for it.” An echo followed his words, the scent of flowers drifting in the air. He took a deep breath of the fragrance, “You’ll always be safe here.”

The look of terror on Adorabelle’s face fell away as she stared, open-mouthed at her host. Suspicion laced her eyes, but John did his best to ignore it and give her a smile. It was an awkward one.

“Can I… uh… get you another drink?”

Adorabelle looked down at the cup before her, then back up, and mustered a fragile smile of her own, “Please.”

He poured out another serving of bourbon and **** himself to ignore the way she flinched when his hand got near her body. When she picked up the measuring cup and took a sip, John stared at his closed fist. Ever since the mark had vanished, he’d been afraid to open it.

The more time passed between that moment and now, the more John found himself disturbed by the thoughts he’d had. Especially because… he couldn’t fully deny them. He’d felt a hunger, a drive to consume the fae, not in a literal sense but in a spiritual one; to take from her what made Adorabelle free and replace it with something… else. There was a dark appeal to it. His stomach clenched, but John **** himself to think the words.

I… wanted to make her into a ****.

John dug his fingernails into his palm. No. That wasn’t who he was. No matter how enticing it might be, he wasn’t the kind of person who’d take away another’s freedom. Much less betray the trust that Adorabelle had come to him with! She’d risked her life to visit him, and he’d repaid that… how?

“Thank you,” said the quiet voice of the fae from across the table.

He looked up. Adorabelle had set her cup down and was rubbing her eyes with the back of one hand. John picked up his napkin and tore off one corner, offering it to the fairy. She looked at it for a long moment, before closing her eyes and leaning forward.

When John remained frozen, the diminutive girl bumped her face against the soft paper. “Give me a hand here, idiot,” she said, admonishing him.

Slowly, afraid he’d use too much ****, John wiped her clean. As he did, the silence of the moment grew oppressive, and he felt the need to fill it, “So, uh… Adorabelle?”

“Mmm?”

“Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.

She didn’t answer immediately, and the only thing that kept John from facepalming was the fact that his hands were busy. When he pulled back the bit of napkin, the pixie patted her face, she seemed satisfied with his work, “I was curious about you.”

“Oh.”

That’s... unexpected.

“Snow told me where you lived, since she couldn’t come in person. Remember the deal we made?”

John nodded, “I guess that makes sense, and the… cat?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Adorabelle replied, with a mixture of a pout and a scowl. They were both quiet for a long time after that. John refilled her cup again, and the fae sipped at the amber liquid while he stared in her direction. Things didn’t quite add up. He had the sense that the fairy wasn’t telling the whole story about why she’d risked her life just to visit him.

“Alright, enough of this,” the pixie said spontaneously, “it’s boring, and if I’m gonna stay here all night, I don’t want my only company to be a miserable sack of dumbass human.” She downed the remaining half of her third cup of bourbon and stood up. “We’re going to do something… fun!” Adorabelle slurred a couple of her words.

She wobbled towards him on unsteady legs, and John glanced between the fae and the measuring cup he’d been serving her booze in. It dawned on him that he’d poured out roughly half her body weight in ****, if not more. He nudged the bottle to the side, but Adorabelle ignored it and practically tripped against his forearm instead.

“C’mon! I’ll make it up to you…” she said. To his utter surprise, the fairy took hold of the top of her dress and pulled it forward. Several millimeters of softly tanned skin were exposed, including a quick flash of a tiny pink nipple. Adorabelle grinned at him lopsidedly and tugged on two of John’s fingers. “You’ve gotta have something to do!” she drew out the word ‘something’ with a slurred purr.

John thought about the games he had on his computer upstairs, what kind of things would a pixie enjoy? Well, she seemed to like messing with people… He grinned, “You know? I might have something. Follow me.”

The fae’s smile broadened, and she launched herself into the air, weaving through it drunkenly until she reached his shoulder. Her small fists grabbed a handful of the fabric, and she pulled herself up onto it, pointing forward, “Onward!”

He snorted and flicked off the kitchen lights behind him as they headed upstairs.

While his companion fluttered about the room, John hit the power button on his desktop computer and pushed several piled up knick-knacks off the keyboard. As it booted up, he just sort of… looked at the machine. It was a surreal reminder that no less than two days ago he'd led a normal life, or, at least, close to one. Then, it would've been heretical to leave his desktop off for two whole days, and now he was only turning it on because it was his best way to analyze the SD card he'd appropriated from Vanessa. Truthfully, he had no idea what was on it. Hopefully a couple naked selfies or something else juicy.

"What’s that?" Adorabelle asked, landing on his desk and sitting atop the nearest stack of cards.

John grinned at her, “"I'm not sure, yet. Let's find out."

He navigated to the SD card’s folder and clicked it open, to be presented with only five video files, each named with a date. The earliest was from just after the start of the school year. John decided to start there. He double-clicked on the icon, and his computer's video player started up, a wet slurping sound immediately blasting out of his speakers. Frantically, he lowered the volume while Adorabelle snickered.

Depicted on screen was a POV film, from Vanessa's perspective judging by the breasts between the camera and focus. Between her legs, lapping away like a collared dog, was a familiar burly meathead... wearing a literal collar. The end of a leash stretched from a ring on it to past the camera, presumably clenched in Vanessa's fist. It was humiliating, but it wasn't all there was to see. Motion, pink and vibrating, caught John's attention at the one place he'd never otherwise look: Frank's ass. A gigantic dildo protruded from it, large enough to be visible even from this unexpected angle. The sight was... uncomfortable.

"Kinky," said the fae from beside him, snapping him out of grossed fascination. When John gave her a look, she only shrugged and returned a grin, "What? I'm not allowed to commentate?"

John didn't answer, instead switching to the second file: another sex tape, but this time Vanessa was filming what looked like an orgy between the cheerleaders and the football team. Compared to the previous film, it wasn't as discomforting or interesting. Sure it was sexy, and something he'd add to his collection if it didn't feature a group of assholes and cunts he knew. Somehow, Vanessa made even that distasteful.

Adorabelle hummed happily and shifted her hips, “Tryin’ to get me in the mood?”

“Maybe,” John said, looking from the screen to the pixie. She stretched in an intentionally erotic fashion, showing off her miniscule chest and bare legs. Her skirt raised enough to almost flash a view of whatever she wore underneath, or didn’t wear...

“Hey! Enough staring, you pervert,” Adorabelle’s slight smile and the way the fairy kicked the air undercut her protests. “I want to see what’s next!”

The third file just showed Vanessa posing naked in front of a mirror, recording herself for an unknown viewer. Nothing as lewd as the first or second videos. John was kind of disappointed.

“Boring…” Apparently, he wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

No sooner had John opened the fourth video, than his heart froze.

It featured someone he hadn't seen in months, Laetitia: a tall and attractive girl that had been his first crush at the academy. She'd hung around Vanessa and her crowd, though never joined the cheerleading team, she hadn't been flexible enough for that. John had found her the only bearable member of her cunty flock, empathetic enough to recoil when Vanessa did something particularly cruel and always gentle enough to give him an apologetic smile. He hadn't deluded himself though, there was no way that Laetitia had any interest in him... but Vanessa had noticed his. She'd set the poor girl up with one of Frank's friends on a date that went so badly that she moved out of state. He’d always wondered what happened.

This... this told him.

He had to look away from the screen, but his mind filled in details from the momentary glance and the screaming that came from the speakers.

"Ugh, can you shut her up?" an all... too familiar voice broke over the other horrible sound of flesh slapping against flesh. "It's annoying."

John looked up, forcing his eyes to the corner of the video and closing it before his mind focused on the hand on Laetitia's face, or the tears in her eyes, or the utter horror with which she looked pleadingly to the camerawoman... No. No, no no no no no no no no! No! His stomach flipped over inside him, twisting itself into a knot and bile burning at the back of his throat. John's fingers curled into fists, nails digging into the skin of his hands. Only the sharp pain of them biting into his palms kept his mind from conjuring up the things he'd seen and heard.

How. How could she? They were friends!

"That... cunt!" Adorabelle screeched at the screen. Her sultry, if drunken, demeanor was gone in an instant. Rage burned in her eyes, and the fairy's red hair lifted from her shoulders. Her wings were a blur, lifting her up off the desk and turning to give John an intensely hateful look. "Who the fuck does that bitch think she is?" the fae demanded.

John swallowed, forcing back the urge to vomit. He took a tainted breath, "Vanessa Hawthorne, the ‘Queen Bitch’." The title had never felt more appropriate.

"Gigantic **** slut, more like!" The fairy shook with poorly contained anger, "Tell me. Tell me she's going to pay. I need to hear this. Titania’s wrath, if that whore doesn’t suffer..."

He was partway through nodding, so caught up in his own violent disgust that he nearly forgot the woman that stood between him and putting the Thorn through Vanessa’s skull.

Wentworth.

John gritted his teeth and **** out the words, "I... can't. Not right now. She's protected."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck that fucking fucker right in her fuckhole with a gigantic spiked dildo! I hope she chokes to **** on her own period blood! I hope a troll makes her ass look like her shithole of a mouth, so it can match! Winter's Crows rip out her eyes and-" Adorabelle continued to spew profanity while hovering on unstable, buzzing wings.

John didn't reply, the queasy sensations of powerlessness immobilizing his body. The chair he slumped into held him with metaphorical chains, and he could barely lift a finger without fighting down nausea. His mind was too deeply buried in the horror of his discovery...

What else has she done? What else has Vanessa gotten away with? How many more people has she hurt?

Through the disgust and the horror at what he’d witnessed, John resolved himself of a fact. A certainty beyond all doubt.