By:Sumguy
The apothecary’s assistant was a woman with a plan. Just having turned forty, she was constantly on the lookout for youth serum or some other medicine to stall the effects of time. In truth she had aged very well, but in her eyes the barely noticeable crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes were monumental and the laugh lines that could only be seen under close scrutiny would be spotted from across the room. Ageing past her thirties terrified the woman, and so she became the city apothecary’s assistant specifically to gain access to the knowledge and components she would need to concoct the potion that would restore and preserve her youth.
For two and a half years she worked under the apothecary; and the man did not make her life easy in the slightest. He was a demanding boss, a harsh taskmaster, and when the mood struck him a very hands on teacher. The woman suffered the attentions. She sighed whenever the apothecary would pass too closely behind her and brush himself gently against the rump of her backside. Her eyes rolled whenever she would catch his gaze diving down her blouse rather than meeting her eyes. Life went on this way until the day the assistant found a dust tome that had fallen behind a heavy bookshelf at the most dark and dank corner of the apothecary's storage cellar.
The "Beautonomicon" was a long banned book of spells and incantations outlawed by all those institutions dealing in enchantment. It was rumored to have been transcribed by an enchantress obsessed with remaining forever youthful; who had stolen it from a faerie nobleman she had managed to seduce. Within the pages of the arcane text, the apothecary's assistant found all that she needed in order to brew up a lotion potion, that; when applied to the skin would produce a de-aging affect. Excitedly, as she cleaned up that night she gathered all the components that she needed save for one. The recipe called for the hair of a woodland faerie. It was a component that would not be easily obtained, but the woman was determined.
A month of searching the forest every spare moment that she had was fruitless. Scant sleep at night and constant toil exacerbated the woman's fears as she began to look more and more haggard. One morning, before beginning her day's chores for the apothecary; the assistant came to a shallow pond and gazed at her reflection. She had not been eating and so had grown gaunt. She had not been sleeping and so she wore a mask of exhaustion. She had spent too much time in the summer sun, and so she looked weathered and leathered. It was more than the woman could take and in her vanity's despair she dropped to her knees and wept.
As the woman wailed and bemoaned her mortality, her voice carried throughout the forest; and her cries rang in the ears of a faerie lass. Cautiously, the young fae approached the woman; and silently she watched her and began to feel pity for her. So the faerie called out to the woman in a large and echoing voice. She bid her not to despair, and tried to convince her of the triviality of her fears.
While the faerie's words did not fall on deaf ears, her message was summarily ignored. All that mattered to the woman was that she had managed to draw out one of the fae. Her genuine tears turned into props for her masquerade gambit as she continued to sob despite the rush of joy she felt at being so close to her desired goals. Melodramatically she pleaded and cajoled, coerced and convinced until finally the Faerie felt she had no choice but to reveal herself to the anguish-addled woman.
The faerie landed close to the woman on a nearby stone. She continued to give her best pep-talk to the mortal whom she had so much pity for and paid little attention to the hand that was not wiping away tears. Slowly the woman reached for her net, and once her hand firmly gripped the handle, she swung it over the stone and trapped the young faerie within. Immediately the woman’s false demeanor was dropped as she sprang to her feet and sprinted for home with her prisoner in hand.
The whole trip the young faerie fruitlessly pleaded for the women to loosen her hold upon her and begged to be set free, but these words did fall on deaf ears. She would not be released from the woman’s grip until they were at her home with all the windows and doors barred tightly shut.
The woman set the faerie down and daubed thick honey on her wings, a method suggested by the Beautonomicon to prevent faeries from flying away. Now generally immobilized, the woman grabbed a pair of sewing scissors and returned to the high table on which she had set her captive.
Cringing in fear as sharp metal blades longer than she was tall drew close, the young faerie cried out in a panic and promised to give the woman anything she wanted. So, the woman explained why she had captured the pretty young thing as she ran a fingertip over and through her soft silken hair.
Perking up some, the faerie stood up and clapped her hands together; enthusiastically suggesting that the woman wish for her youth to be returned and its longevity extended. The woman considered this for a long time before turned her gaze back to the young faerie. She pinched the length of her beautiful hair in between thumb and forefinger and then lifted the tiny thing up by her shiny mane. The faerie put her hands to her head and gripped the roots of her hair to keep it from being pulled straight off. Her legs kicked and pumped as she was taken off of the solid table top and her wings tried desperately to break free of their honey shackles, but to no avail.
Holding the faerie up before her eyes, the woman seemed cold and detached; completely unsympathetic to the trauma she was subjecting the young faerie to. The faerie pleaded again, reiterating her offer and assuring that she was sincere. The woman rolled her eyes, and placed the scissor on either side of the faerie’s hair, just above where her tiny hands covered her head.
“The Beautonomicon has gotten me this far, and I think I would rather take my chances with it than something as unreliable as a wish granted by a faerie girl,” and as her words were finished so was her waiting. A single snip of the scissors was all it took for the woman to cut away nearly all of the young faerie’s beautiful head of hair.
Landing on the table with a little thump, the young faerie cried as she rubbed her bottom. The woman simply marveled at how full and shiny the faerie’s hair was; “truly this holds a strong enchantment,” she thought to herself. Meanwhile the faerie sat and sobbed.
The woman had what she wanted and carefully place the faerie hair into a pouch, making certain not to lose a single strand. She looked back at her captive and shook her head as the young thing continued to weep. The sound was grating to the woman, as though each note somehow scratched at the fibers of what little conscience she possessed. Rather than continue to suffer the symphony of anguish and her own guilt, the woman went and got her tea kettle from the kitchen. The water within wasn’t quite ready for tea, but was well hot enough for the woman’s purposes.
Returning to the table, the woman looked down at the faerie; who looked up at her not with rage in her eyes; but great sadness. Without a moment’s hesitation, the woman emptied the contents of the tea kettle all over the young faerie; dousing her in uncomfortably hot water. Not enough to scald or singe, but certainly it stung and left the little creatures fine skin a noticeably beat red. The faerie’s sadness finally turned to anger, as she screamed within the unwanted shower. Her fear and emotions combined with the hot water softening its hold enabled the young faerie to finally free her wings and she immediately took to the air and hid amongst the rafters of the woman’s house.
The woman simply opened up her shutters and windows, gathered her components, and left with no fanfare whatsoever. It was as if the faerie had been the most insignificant afterthought possible. An essential detail that once used and acknowledged was easily and summarily dismissed.
So the young faerie fled from the woman’s house, and back to the forest. As the woman brewed her potion according to the recipe set down in her banned book of enchantment, the young faerie flew deeper into the woods until she reached an aged oak tree covered in bark as white as snow.
As the apothecary’s assistant drunk down her youth restoring and preserving concoction, the young faerie came before the queen of her people and called her in a way that only she truly could. “Mother,” she cried; and the Queen embraced the young faerie princess as she sobbed and related her day’s terrors.
The woman stared for a long while in a looking glass after managing to force down the syrupy thick swill of a potion. To her jubilation, she could see the potion working its promised affects. Truly her youth was restored to her, and more over tone and firmness was returned to portions of her anatomy that she had not anticipated. Her bosom rose up to sit proudly upon her chest once again and her backside, which had flattened greatly and begun to dimple, was once more smooth and round. Every part of her, from head to toe had been fully restored to what she guessed was roughly the age of twenty-five which made the woman squeal in absolute delight!
Within the white oak that is home to the Queen of the faeries, the great ruler was outraged! That another female, who should be possessed of at least a small measure of compassion for all things; would visit such horrors upon her daughter? Pondering this drove the Queen to take drastic measures and a call went out for a servant she had not summoned since long ago; when the forest was still young. So, from the shadowy darkness the Queen’s sister; known to most as the “Black Faerie” did come. The Queen held much rage in her heart over her daughter’s mistreatment, and so she charged her sibling with conjuring up a punishment the likes of which this land had never known. This would be no slap on the wrist or even simple vengeance. No, the Queen mandated that a price was to be paid not simply by her daughter’s tormentor; but by any women of this land who have abused, mistreated, offended, or wronged Fae folk; no matter how minor or egregious the offense. As an after thought she added that it would not be just those women who directly acted against them either, but the wives and daughters-of-age of any man who would be fool enough to cross the Fae as well!
The Queen’s sister smiled, nodded, and then approached the throne. She leaned forward and in a whisper told her sister and liege that she had just the right punishment in mind. As her sister explained her intent, the Queen smiled and the pair kissed one another upon the cheeks. In a flash of dark purple smoke that crackled with magic lightning, the Black Faerie was gone, and the Queen knew that soon her mandate punishment would be exacted on an unsuspecting but wholly deserving land.
The apothecary’s assistant had errands to run for her master, and she made certain that the garb she wore was the most flattering and revealing that she could manage without running afoul of the city guard. She luxuriated in the wanton looks from men and the jealous stares from women that knew her. Twice she flirted with youths that were likely half her age, and never once the rest of those hours did she give a second thought to her horrible deeds earlier that day.
As dusk settled upon the city, she returned to her master’s dwelling. The last customer of the day gave her an appraising look as he left the shop accompanied by his wife; who slapped him for his gawking once they were outside.
The assistant said nothing as she began to stock the shelves with the day’s gathered goods and simply hummed a happy song. She stopped when she felt the apothecary standing uncomfortably close behind her. She was keenly aware of his hand landing on her backside, as he gave it a good swat and the sharp sting from his spanking made her yelp and whirl around to face him.
He wagged a finger at her and shook his head, asking “What magic have you used to bring about such profound change my young assistant?”
“Clean living only, my old master,” she answered sharply.
The apothecary brushed a few errant strands of dark hair out of the woman’s face “Do not be coy or misleading dear assistant; tell me what it is you have done.”
With a wry smile and a nervous laugh the woman stepped out from between her master and the shelves behind her. “I say sir that I have used no magic, and if I be a liar; may the craft that you accuse me of curse me this instant.”
The timing of the Black Faerie’s curse could not have been better if planned, for as the woman finished her foolish words; so was she consumed by the dark magic. All at once the apothecary watched as the woman’s large and full bosom seemed to deflate. Her hands and arms retreated into her blouse and her long skirt began to fold as it piled upon the wooden floor. In seconds the woman before him, restored to youth and beauty as she was; shrank down and down and down until she disappeared beneath the very clothing that adorned her moments before.
The woman assistant was lost and confused, uncertain of exactly what had happened, where she had been spirited to, and why she was so completely naked. Then the hands of a titan parted the world above her, and as her eyes focused on what was beyond; her mind seemed to break and she promptly fainted.
When she finally came too, the woman was laid out on a wooden surface, but not the floor of the apothecary’s shop. All around her were gigantic glass bottles, and all at once the last few seconds of conscious memory flashed through her mind. That was when she realized she had been placed on a high shelf, and it did not go unnoticed by the woman that the apothecary hadn’t bothered to find her anything to cover up with. She could see him; to her he was a great distance away; rummaging through one of his old chests of miscellany. The truth was that he was only about seven feet from where he had placed her for safe keeping.
She got to her feet but did not call to him. Oddly though, he seemed to sense that she had come round. The apothecary stood up and walked towards her with his hands behind his back, clearly hiding something from his tiny assistant. She looked up as he approached, fixing her eyes upon him as she turned her back and brought her hands up to cover her breasts in a vain effort to retain some level of modesty before the lecherous man easily twenty years her senior.
He smiled and shook his head again “it’s unwise to challenge magic to cursing you, especially when you deny that it has benefited you so. I must say though, I have no qualm with these results. A young beauty such as you, reduced to a tiny treasure... there’s no way you can continue to be my assistant...”
The apothecary’s leering eyes were massive orbs of mischief hungrily devouring his former assistant’s naked body and she could feel his gaze appraising every inch of her. He brought his hands forward, and all the assistant could do was stand there, hopelessly covering herself, in jaw-dropped offense and shock as she stared up at what was held out for her to see. It was a rod-iron cage; the kind that was often used for small birds or captured faeries. The apothecary unlatched the door and swung it open, never taking his eyes off of her. He smiled wider “... don’t worry my pet, though you may no longer be my assistant out relationship need not change too drastically. It goes without saying that you will remain in my care for the duration of your condition. If you are well behaved, showing me gratitude and affection I may even research a way to reverse what it is that has been done here. I confess the likelihood of a counter potion for such a powerful curse existing is slim so do not pin your hopes on that. I will expect your obedience of course and more so than ever… I insist that you continue to call me master.”
