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Little Fuckers - Preview


LesLumens
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Here's a quick preview of a story that's been almost complete for quite some time, but which I'd abandoned.  When I looked at it last weekend, I had no idea why I'd given up on it. LOL  It will be part of a new series of stories featuring the Fey, along with "Sylph Esteem" and others to come.
 
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Diane walked into the front room of her apartment, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and smoothing her fingers through her blonde locks. After three weeks of a hard push at work, she finally had a long weekend as a reward, and she was determined not to sleep it away. That didn’t mean she was awake enough to start breakfast, though. She picked up the remote to the television and sat down.

A moment later, she screamed when the couch suddenly tilted forward, and to the left.

Upon catching her balance – and her breath – she muttered, “What the hell?†Sure enough, when she got down on her knees and looked, one of the legs had broken off the couch.

The last couple of weeks had been filled with such small disasters. The day before, the showerhead had fallen off as soon as she turned on the water. The coffee maker had fallen victim to the curse the day before that. From broken heels to leaking pens, it had seemed as if the world was conspiring to drive her even crazier while she battled exhaustion from work.

Well, I’m awake now, she thought. The fright had chased the last vestiges of drowsiness from her in a split second, so off to the kitchen she went.

After breakfast, there was one task that couldn’t be ignored any longer. She’d put on her last pair of comfortable panties before going to bed. There were a few racier garments left in the drawer, but those were for special occasions, and not everyday use. The laundry needed to be taken care of before she could truly begin to enjoy her long weekend.

She carefully checked the hoses on the washer before turning it on. A loose one spraying water everywhere had been the first of the string of disasters, and she really didn’t want a repeat of that. Once the first load was in, she returned to the front room to see if there was anything she could do about the couch while she waited on the washer.

Along the way, the sight of a package sitting on the table changed her mind. It was from her grandmother, and had arrived while she was at work the day before. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She picked it up and took it to a chair, where she sat down slowly, wary of a repeat of the couch trying to dump her in the floor.
The tape yielded to her nails without much trouble, and the first thing she saw was a handwritten note from her grandmother.

When I called the other day and you told me about your string of bad luck, I knew you would need this. Keep an open mind and trust your grandmother, Diane. Blessed be, the note read.

Though the family didn’t speak of it, everyone knew that her grandmother practiced Wicca, and had picked up the craft from her own mother, who had in turn learned it from her mother. Diane’s aunt and mother had broken the long-running string, but her grandmother had been trying to influence her for years in hopes of reviving the family tradition in the next generation. Diane shook her head and chuckled while she looked to see what else was inside.

Beneath the note were several purple cloth-wrapped bundles. Each had a D stitched into it with silver thread, facing upward, demonstrating that they were gifts meant for her to keep. When she unfolded the first, she found a white candle that her grandmother had no doubt made herself. She could smell vanilla and other enticing scents when she brought the candle to her nose. The remaining bundles were three similar candles as well as four brass holders.

Upon removing all the candles, Diane saw the lid of a beautifully carved wooden box with a silver latch and hinges. As with the cloth wraps, her initial was carved into the center of the lid. Inside the shallow box, sitting on a purple velvet cushion, were five white crystals. They were semi-transparent, and caught flickering rainbows of light within their facets.

The box was beautiful, and the candles smelled wonderful, so she appreciated the gift, even if not in the way her grandmother had intended.

In the very bottom of the box was a thin, hand-bound book. It was a little larger than a hardcover novel, and the binding was covered in purple cloth stitched with strange symbols on the borders, surrounding her initial in the middle. Diane lifted the book from the box, opened it, and gasped in surprise.

The last thing she’d ever have expected to see in a gift from her grandmother was a detailed drawing of a naked man. Of course, it wasn’t just any naked man. His skin was a rosy, magenta color for one thing. He also had horns and pointed ears sticking out of long, black hair. Despite these strange features, he had a handsome face and a lean, muscled body. His unusually large penis was drawn erect, and flowers in a vase next to him seemed to be there to indicate a scale of perhaps two inches high. At the top of the page, in flowing, calligraphic script was the word Gremlins.

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