As they soared deep into the mountains the darkness thickened. It seemed the fear had driven the damsel previously in distress, to sleep. At least, that was what her knight in shining armor thought.
"You feel soo... different," he heard the most soothing voice say from behind. "You aren't from here, are you?" she asked, figuring him out rather quickly.
"Yeah, it's a bit of a long story..." he said, nervously staring at the corners of his eyes every so often.
"What is she doing," he panicked inwardly, not just because of her tight grip around his waist, that could easily be justified as fear of falling off.
But her fingers lingered around something between his legs. The fact that she was so nonchalant about it, was a bit unsettling.
"Hope I didn't just give another witch a ride, only to get castrated." he thought, wondering if he should quickly shake her off the broomstick.
"So, what are you?"
"Something called a human..."
"Hmmmm!" she sounded deep in thought, squeezing hard on the little squishing balls she had just discovered, that felt lie stress relievers.
Alistair began to break into several liters of sweat. With each squish and release, he felt a blend of pleasure and pain surge into his head.
"Huuuuman!!" she stretched, familiarizing herself with a word that was new to her while following up with a deep soothing squeeze on the tender rocks she had just found.
The pain shot up ten folds overshadowing the pleasure of it. His head was now as red as her skin, with hot steam gushing out from his nostrils.
"She certainly has it out for my balls. At this rate, she will pop them if I don't do anything." He thought.
"U-Umm, what's your name?" Face twisted and sweating buckets, Alistair managed to let out a barely audible whisper.
"Willow, and you?"
"A-l-i-s-t-a-i-r-!-!"
"Aaalliiissstttaaiiiirrrr!" she stretched again, finding these new words interesting, but her pronunciation of them felt like a slow, subtle and utterly effective torture song to his ears.
"Ple...ase, you...your ha-"
"What is a human doing in the ashen woods of Runeveldt?" she interrupted, pulling his balls apart. The pupil in Alistair's eyes dilated and became smaller, as a bolt of shock snaked along his spine.
"Ple...ase, your...you...your ha-"
"I see you have some level of understanding for magic." she interrupted again, this time, creeping her nimble fingers up the shaft above her newly found stress balls... "Hmm, as hard as an oak branch... why is it so?" she thought.
Alistairs cheeks were instantly set on fire. "Sh...Sh...She has left the softballs, and is headed for the washington monument." he panicked inwardly, as her left hand deftly circled the rounded ridge of his shaft, while her left hand rubbed the hard tip.
"F*ck I'm being stimulated on top of a speeding broomstick. Is this some witch ride foreplay or customer service." he thought, his head already as soft as a lofty tampon.
A rush of icy cold pleasure surged from the tip of his shaft, instantly fighting off the previous pain like antibodies.
"Hmmm... she's so skilled at the tip, she must be a southpaw." he thought, his eyes almost sealed shut as imaginary angels flew around his head. Suddenly they took a steep dive down, heading into the cover of trees.
"AAAAAHHHH!!" She let out a high-pitched scream, pulling hard on his shaft like the pitch controls of a helicopter. The scream together with the sudden pull, whooshed Alistair back to reality, with a mighty roar.
He pulled hard on the upper part of the broomstick, zapping them in a sharp upward curve, barely missing the thick bundle of leaves.
"What is wrong with you? What was that all about?" Willow yelled, thankful that the rod she pulled on was firm enough to keep her from falling off.
"My bad, but this wouldn't have happened, if you weren't so hellbent on fumbling with my d*ck." Alistair snapped.
"Dick! Is that what it's called?" She asked, completely ignoring his angry tone.
"Oh! so, there are no men in this world?" Alistair asked, reestablishing his balance.
"Are you silly? Of course, there are!" she exclaimed; her hands still firmly fastened around his bulge.
"Then why do you sound so new to it. Perhaps, the people of this world have a different name for it, or what?" he asked, expecting a reply along that line.
"Not really?" she said, causing a slight jerk in him. "Our men, or rather men of this world don't have anything like this 'd*ck'..."
"It feels massively hard on top, yet very tender and squishy below." She giggled, squeezing as if to prove her point.
"Aw, Aw, Aw! Please stop it!" Alistair finally managed to say. "It hurts when you squeeze, and I involuntarily zone out when you fiddle with the tip, so stop it!"
They flew over a mountain, and a sudden rumble caught Alistair's ear. "A rumble? I must be on the right track like the witch said." he thought, but there was an issue...
His stomach has been rumbling from hunger for a while now.
"Where are we going?" Willow asked, reluctantly letting go of his shaft.
"We? There is no we... I'll drop you off at some place safe." Alistair said, heaving a sigh of relieve as she let go.
"Please... take me along." She pleaded, already about to tear up. "I have no friends out here; a lot of dangerous things lurk around here. Besides, I can be of some help to you since I know more about this place than you do."
"Sorry but I will pass. I don't have a need for a tourist or a living map." He replied.
"But can't I be of any need to you?"
"Nope... aaand yes! Do you by any chance know where I can get some food?" He asked. Then there was a short pause before she spoke. "Yeah, fly up that hill and you will see a canyon. All kinds of fruit litter around that place."
"Ahem! She's indeed handy. But I can't have anyone ruin my slim chances of getting out of this place." Alistair though. "Thank you!"
Without hesitation, he took a detour towards the nearby mountain, she showed him.
They saw enormous boulders cracked and revealing green moss as they descended from the mountain. The canyon was filled with numerous trees, spaced apart just enough to allow a glimpse of the sky through the branches.
"Look! Go down there," Willow directed, as Alistair's stomach rumbled, urging him to hasten towards the spot.
Sprinkling flowers of various kinds crowded around the massive roots and fallen trunks.
"We can stop here," Willow suggested, pointing between the trees. "There's a small cave over there where we can rest."
Alistair halted beneath a large cypress tree, contemplating. "Why is she trying so hard to impress?" He dismounted the broomstick and offered her a helping hand. "It would take a lot more than that to persuade me, girl!" he thought.
As he prepared to take a step, an enticing scent filled his nostrils. With a gesture, she directed them towards a particular direction where the fragrance grew stronger. Within just a couple of minutes, the breathtaking sight unfolded before Alistair.
Before them lay a clearing, adorned with trees of various sizes, shapes, and colors. The branches of these trees intertwined, covering the entire place. Laden with fruit, the branches almost brushed the grass below. And the fruits!
Round ones with vibrant red color, slender purple ones, tightly clustered pink ones, all gleamed amidst the fluttering wings of butterflies and wasps. They came in all shapes - round, triangular, bulky, and delicate.
Many of these fruit varieties were completely unfamiliar to Alistair, beyond anything he could have imagined. Still, his mouth watered irresistibly. "This is the beautiful garden of Runeveldt," Willow whispered.
In a matter of moments, they began picking the fruits of their choice, placing them in the spacious robe he wore.
He checked to see if the totem was there, and it indeed was.
Satisfied with their harvest, they proceeded towards the cave that she had previously pointed out. As soon as they entered, the darkness was pushed out by the warm glow from the broomstick.
"It's even more radiant now," Alistair mused as he stepped into the cave, Willow closely trailing behind.
The cave's floor was remarkably level, suggesting that it was man-made. Positioned at its center was a sizable stone slab, surrounded by smaller slabs that resembled stools.
This indicated that not only did someone live here, but they possessed enough intelligence to arrange a living space.
Taking their seats on the stools, Alistair emptied the assortment of fruits they had gathered. To their sheer suprise, the stone table was overflowing with the fruits, some even spilling over.
Without hesitation, both of them began devouring the fruits. Streams of juice trickled down Alistair's chin, neck, hands, and arms. Upon deep inspecting, he noticed something peculiar about his arms.
"Did I grow up when entering this world?" He thought, examining how well defined his muscles had become overnight. Although, not bulky, they were very defined. "What! I'm I like twenty now?"
Willow saw his puzzle look. "Why, don't you like them?" She asked.
"Umm, no, not that...umm, how old are you?" Alistair asked, getting at something. To Willow, this was an odd question, one she didn't expect.
"Very young," she replied.
"How young?"
"Two thousand one hundred and thirteen." She replied, with an ingenious smile, that spoke volumes of her youth.
"WHAT THE F*CK?!!" Alistair gasped, his hunch was accurate. "I think I might have stumbled into a broken time machine, where years passed by like hours."
He was deep in thoughts when Willow asked, "So that thing called d*ck, it felt... interesting. What is it used for, what does it do?"
***