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From: "George Carter" <gcarterofoz@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Midsummer's Nightmare Part 2/3 (George Carter)
Date: Wed, 21 Feb 2001 21:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "nghtmre2.txt" begin>

A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHTMARE - PART 2


Copyright 2001 by George Carter



The despair that was running through my veins like poisoned blood
lasted only as  long as it took for me to realise that Laura wasn't
going to hit me again.  It was quickly replaced by shame and self-
loathing.  Where the hell were my balls, I asked myself, lying here
waiting to be beaten?  Then I thought about what I'd said... and I
actually started to giggle.

Enough.  I had to get to my feet.  I had to act, rather than just think,
for that way lay madness.  I rose, and blinked the tears out of my
eyes.

There was Laura, now a big strong man, with his hands up over his
mouth in a very feminine expression of shock.  His erection was
gone, but the damn thing was still a monster, even on the slack.  I
was envious.

'George, I'm so sorry! I... I wanted to... and then it was like you'd
rejected me, and I just kind of... oh God, it's just so... hard.  Look
how I've hurt you.  Your poor face... I'm a ...'

I rushed to him, and took one of his hands between mine.  'It's not
your fault.  You weren't in your right mind.'  I kissed his hand to try
to show that I forgave him, and left a bloody smear on his fingers.  'It
really isn't your fault', I repeated.  'Think about it... you've been a
woman all your life, and now, suddenly, you're flooded with male
hormones. Umm... lots of male hormones, judging from your... build.
And no years of learning to deal with it, like I had.  No wonder you
lost control.  But you got your control back... thank God for that.
Are you all right now?'

'Am... am *I* all right?  Ohh, George... how can you be so... so...'

We were interrupted by the sound of Moire's voice from beside us.

'I trust that you both understand the point of the lesson.'  And with
that, and another of her little ballet routines, we got our own bodies
back.  I raised my hand to my mouth.  It was intact.  I felt a chemical
wave of strength and confidence suffusing me, and that made me
brave enough to face Moire again.

'Is there any way I can persuade you to leave Laura alone?  I know
that I'm the one you want to torment.  Well, you can.  I can't stop
you.  If you send her back... I'll... cooperate with you.  Please.'

'Why do you persist with this?'  Moire's expression darkened.  What
is she to you, to make you risk your all?'

'I... I care about her.  I don't want to see her suffer.  I...'

A warm hand touched my own.  Another hand gripped my shoulder
and turned me around.  Laura embraced me, and pressed her soft,
warm breasts against my chest.  Her eyes threatened to brim over
with tears.  Her lips were parted.  'What are you doing?' I asked.

'Saving your life.  Both our lives.'  Then she kissed me.  Her tongue
slipped between my lips.  It was a promise. She drew her face away
and spoke again. 'You're a good, decent man, and I love you for
trying, but... stop trying.  Let's give her what she wants.'

She kissed me again, harder, deeper, and things started happening in
my body.  Familiar, masculine things.  Things that made me want to
rejoice that I had my old body back and that it still worked.  Things
that made me want to celebrate this woman who was wiser than I.
Of course she was right. We were in a hopeless position, being
unable to resist the little voyeur-pixie, and having nothing to bargain
with, and it was only my pig-headed refusal to compromise on
principle that had kept me fighting for this long.  It was time to
surrender.  To each other.

Slowly we sank to the floor of this odd place.  Its texture was fine
and soft, like the finest lawn... like lying on a putting green.  It had
enough give in it to make us comfortable when we lay upon it.  Laura
had initiated this, but she lay back, passively inviting me to sample
her buffet of feminine charms, her eyes closed and a half-smile on her
lips.  Propped up on one elbow beside her, I ran a hand through the
luxurious thickness of her chestnut hair while I placed a tender kiss
on each of her eyelids.  My fingertips brushed her face, running down
the contours like a blind man's would.  One finger traced down over
her full, crimson lips - she'd never need lipstick - and as it parted
them, she moved her head forward a fraction and trapped my finger
between her teeth.  Her tongue touched my finger for a second
before she released me.  Another promise.  My freed finger splayed
her lips apart as I moved my face to hers and kissed her again, slowly
exploring her mouth with my tongue.  Sliding over her own tongue,
playing and exploring, with the intimate contact sending surges of
blood and power through my body, preparing it for the passionate
contest to come.

I ended the kiss, panting.  My hands started moving again, along the
base of her ribcage, my palms moving under her firm, medium-sized
breasts.  She was a good few years younger than I, and in better
shape.  Her skin was taut under my hands.  Her own fingers had
found my scrotum, and she was absently playing with it.

'I want you to know,' she started, 'that I want to do this.  Not
because of... her... but in spite of her.'

I nodded.  'Me too.'  My heart was full.  It was under the worst
possible circumstances... but we'd found each other.  We'd get
through this, leave this place, and then, in our own place and time we
would look into each other's eyes again.  Until that very moment, I
didn't believe in love at first sight.  Maybe it was just that I'd never
looked hard enough before.

'Touch me', she implored.  I knew exactly what she meant.  Whatever
light source illuminated this strange place was enough for me to see
the dew of arousal beginning to show in Laura's pubic thatch.  My
hand moved to it, and stroking, encouraged it further.  With every
little stroke, every little probe, she muttered and groaned, adding fuel
to my desire.  For several minutes I continued to touch her, learning
the mysteries of her secret garden, and she slowly rocked and moved
under my fingers.  She was moist now.  The hand I wasn't using to
explore her sex was on a roving commission around her body.  This
hand was stroking an erect-nippled breast when she shook all over
and gasped.

'Did you...?' I asked.

She smiled.  'A little one', she replied.  'Are you ready?' she asked,
and moved her legs into a welcoming posture.  By way of answer, I
propped myself above her and allowed her to take hold of my erect
cock and guide it into her.  I entered her slowly, savouring every
little bit of this sweet invasion.  Once I was all the way in, I paused,
feeling her all around me, and let myself fall slowly on to her,
touching skin to skin all along our selves.  I kissed her again, and
with our mouths working in concert, I started thrusting.   In this
strange, timeless place, we reached for our moment, and found it,
and I know that when we were finished, at least one of us had tears
in his eyes.

We looked at each other, smiled, and rose to our feet.  I took her
hand in my own like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Moire was there.  I questioned her silently with my eyes.

She spoke, and I was sure some of her imperiousness was gone.
'Your part in this is now over, Laura', she said.  'It is time for you to
return to your own world.  You will remember this only as a fleeting
dream.'

Laura was rocked by this statement.  'May... may I speak to George
for a moment before I go?' she asked.  Moire nodded.  'Be quick.'

I burned the location of Moire into my memory before I turned to
Laura.  'I'll be fine, sweetheart... don't worry.  Go before she changes
her mind.'

'George', she answered, 'If you come out of this okay... and you
remember what happened... come and get me.  Be direct... be firm...
and don't take no for an answer.  I like that... but I don't let anyone
know it.   Please... if we can, let's find each other again.'

We embraced, and kissed.  Possibly my last kiss, if the desperate idea
I'd conceived didn't work.  I treated it like my last kiss, in any event.

Take your whole life in your hands and squeeze it into a ball.

I didn't want to let her go, but I didn't want her to have to stay
either.  I looked Laura in the eyes and said, 'I love you.  I'll come
back for you.'

We parted.  Laura approached Moire and said 'I'm ready.'

Moire executed one of her little dances, and the figure of the woman
I loved folded in on itself, becoming a flat figure, like a cut-out, then
just a vertical line, which shrank to a point, then... nothing.

It looked like that little stunt had wearied Moire; she lost a little
altitude and hovered for a moment  about seven feet from the
ground.  It was now or never.

Take your whole life in your hands and squeeze it into a ball.
Squeeze damn hard.  Bowl your best ball,  make it a wrong 'un, and
hope like hell she doesn't pick it, 'cos you'll only get one chance.

Moire turned toward me, and was about to say something, but I'd
already leapt toward her.  Frantically, she flapped her wings and tried
to evade me, but she was just a moment too slow.  One of my hands
found her arm and seized it.  My  sheer mass brought her down; her
little wings couldn't support us both.

If I was right, she had to be free to dance her aerial patterns to work
her magic, so if I held on to her, she was helpless.  If I was wrong...
there'd be no telling what she'd do to me.  The next seconds would
tell the tale.

She struggled, flapped her wings, and wailed a keening noise of pain.
But I was still me.  I was feeling triumphant and mean.  So when she
begged me to loosen my grip on her, I told her to shut up or I'd pull
her little wings off.  She gasped in horror, and her huge violet eyes
filled with tears.  Her voice was tiny as she said, 'You may as well
tear me limb from limb.  It would kill me just as surely.'

And then the past hit me between the eyes, as I remembered the most
shameful thing I'd ever done.  As a small boy, I had once trapped a
small bird - a sparrow - in the garage and battered it half to death.
Just one of those things that curious small boys do.  Life was such a
mystery that I had to try to explore the other side of it.  But then I
realised that the bird was in terrible pain, that I'd maimed it, and I
hated myself so much that I was sick.  Then my father found out, and
he forced me to put the bird out of its misery by killing it.  It just may
have been the most valuable lesson he ever gave me - that actions
have consequences, and that a thinking human being should accept
responsibility for his actions.

The vicious little sadist that I always knew was lurking under the
surface of my soul had come out.  I was ashamed of myself.  But I
couldn't let her go;  I was sure she'd destroy me if I did.  I looked at
her, and I could see awful bruises under my fingers.  I was sickened
by them.

As I was debating my next move, there came a shimmering light in
the air not ten feet away from me.  A sort of hole started to appear in
the very air, and a second fairy stepped through it.  This one
resembled Moire somewhat, but had an altogether different air about
her.  While she wore no badge or other mark of station, she was
undeniably regal in her bearing.

'I would appreciate it, sir, if you would unhand my daughter.'

Out of the frying pan.  Into the blast furnace.


END PART 2



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