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This is more whimsical and humorous than it is erotic. But then humor is always erotic. “He makes me laugh,” is one of the most often given reasons for a woman to love an otherwise unattractive, unlovable man.

The story does contain descriptions / reference to normal sex, oral, anal, and masturbation.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2014 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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It was very late at night- or very early in the morning depending on your point of view. I am always up sometime during the night. I think I inherited that from my father. In any case, it was a little after 2:00 am and I was sitting at my computer reading through stories that I planned to enter in this year’s Halloween Story contests.

My in-house editor had already gone through them and corrected my atrocious grammar and my even more atrocious spelling. … The only good thing that can be said about my spelling is that at least I remember that there is an “r” in shirt.

The stories were ready, but it is always a good idea to go back and read them one last time as if you’ve never read them before. Sometimes, for that final reading, I even read them aloud. Once in a while I’ll find a sentence or phrase that doesn’t say what I thought it said.

An hour later, I had made two very minor changes to one of the stories and was about to head back to bed when a small voice said, “Laddie, laddie, laddie. Is that the lot? You’ll be a real disappointment to us all this year, ya will. An’ I was tellin’ all me friends at the pub that you were me favorite author.”

I looked around trying to find the source of the voice and discovered a man about three inches high sitting on a dead mouse near the corner of my desk. It was a computer mouse, not a rodent. It no longer functioned, but I had merely shoved it aside and never gotten around to throwing it away. It made the perfect bench for him as he sat on it with his legs crossed, holding his top hat in his hands and smoking a long-stemmed pipe. His hat and his frock coat were emerald green, and he was wearing matching green pants with green slippers that curled up at the toes.

Some people might have reacted in shock at seeing something like this on their desk in the middle of the night, but my connection to reality is tenuous enough that nothing surprises me anymore. Besides, I have a sleep disorder that sometimes allows me to wake up without totally waking up or go to sleep without totally going to sleep. The result is I can start dreaming while I am awake or I wake up and keep dreaming. I’ve even learned to control the dreams somewhat, so, it’s like having your own personal holo-deck that I can take with me wherever I go. With all of that in my life, I’ve learned to just go with the flow and see where things end up.

So, rather than freaking out, I replied, “I thought Leprechauns were supposed to be about three feet high, not three inches high.”

He laughed, stood up and said, “We can be any size we want to be.”

Suddenly he was eight or nine feet tall crouching between the desk and the ceiling. His bass voiced boomed out “But it’s kind of hard to hide behind the flowers when you are ten times your normal size.”

He jumped off the desk and landed with a resounding thud before shrinking to my expected three feet high. “Ye be disappointin’ us this year,” he said. “Ye don’t have an Irish story for Halloween. And where would Halloween be without the ould sod. It all started there, ye know.”

“Yes, I know.” I replied. “And I know that it’s supposed to be on the dark of the moon following the fall equinox, not on October 31st. But the pixies haven’t been whispering in my ear this year and I have nothing to write.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed. “The spriggan lassie is still a bit upset about your collection of erotic faerie images.”

“That was a Tinkerbell erotic Photoshop contest!” I blurted out as I looked over my shoulder Şirinevler travesti at printouts of Tinkerbell in a series of very naughty poses. “I suppose she was offended,” I said.

“Offended?” he snorted. “That wee lassie wasn’t offended. She was jealous. She was spittin’ thorns that you didn’t ask her to pose for ya.”

“Tell her I’m sorry.” I said, “Maybe she will bring me a story for next year.”

“Aye,” he said, “but that doesna solve the problem for this year, does it?”

He took a long draw on his pipe before pointing the stem at me and saying, “Though I have a story for ye. It’s all about how I defeated the four west country cailleach sisters.”

“Wait a minute,” I said and starting typing furiously on my keyboard. “What’s a cailleach sister? And, who are you? What’s your name?”

“Some people like to call them witches,” he said, “but the west country sisters weren’t wise ones. Hags would be a better word. And these hags were more like demons. I think the English word is ‘succubus’. They would draw the life out of man as they drew out his seed.”

“OK,” I sputtered, trying to keep up with him. “I’m getting this. But I would still like to know your name.”

“Me name is …” He made a noise that sounded very much like a cat hacking up a very large hairball. “But most modern people, especially Americans, have a wee bit o’ trouble with the old tongue.”

He smiled at me and his eyes literally twinkled. “You can call me ‘Danny,'” he said, “… like in the song.”

He then launched into an off-key rendition of Danny Boy. I was hoping he wasn’t going to ask my opinion on his singing. I’m really not a good liar, and I have learned the hard way in the past that it is not a good idea to piss off magical creatures. Luckily he didn’t ask. He just finished the final chorus and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I’ll call the story, ‘Danny Boy,'” I told him, and that brought a fresh flood of tears.

“It were a long, long time ago,” he began, “before the English put their boots on the throats of the blue people, back when Halloween was dancing around the bonfires on Dark Night and bringin’ the glowing coals home in a carved turnip to relight the family hearth with purified fire.”

He looked up at the ceiling as if he was treasuring some memories and laughed. “There was a bit more to those fires and the dancing than a lot of your history books will tell ya,” he said. “You were supposed to give yourself over to the night and the fire and the spirits. Nothin’ between you and the night… Nothin’ between you and the fire… Nothin’ between you and the stars… And it was a very dark night as ye walked back to your hut naked with nothing but a burning coal in a carved out turnip to light your way.”

He took a deep sigh. “Lot’s of things could happen in front of those fires or on those paths, and aye, it often did. If ye check the ancient records, ye’ll find that a good many Celtic laddies and lassies were born just after the summer solstice. Some of the young lassies would even signal their willingness by making their lanterns wink.”

I must have looked confused because he pointed the stem of his pipe at me again and explained, “After ye carved full eyes out of the turnip, ye put part of the core back in one of them so that the eye appeared to wink. Some young lassies would carry that extra piece out of the house in their mouths so their parents wouldn’t know. … Some wives did the same thing.”

He laughed, but then suddenly looked very sour, almost angry. “Unfortunately,” he spat out, “so did the west country sisters. They would appear on the path and walk as though they were on their way home and seeking some company, but they were really casting their nets into the blackness to trap young men.”

He shuddered, “I can think of worse ways to die, but having all of the sexual bliss that I would ever feel in me entire life condensed into those last few seconds doesn’t seem all that pleasurable. Ye could tell that it was one of the sisters because a young man would be missing and a shrunken, dried out old man would be found dead next to the path.”

He raised himself up to his full three feet of height and said, “I decided that I was going to do something about it. So I watched the sisters throughout the summer and hid and listened while they made their plans. I knew where to be and what time to be there. It took some very powerful magic, but I looped time so that I could intercept all four of them in the same night.

“The sisters were ancient, older even than me, but their magic hid their age and their ugliness. To a young man waiting beside the path, they were beautiful. Even to my eyes, the first sister was almost more than I could behold. She was walking naked in the starlight. Her skin was so white that even in that dimness, it seemed to shine. I knew that her hair was flaming red, but in the darkness it appeared almost black, especially between her legs.

“She was waving her lantern from side to side in Şirinevler travestileri time with a song she was singing. The song was one the young men would know and spoke of a woman pining for her lover who had left her alone and lonely. As she approached, I stepped out onto the path. I had made m’self normal size, which in those days was about five foot, four. Since I can control the size of different parts of me body separately, I made what was important a little bigger than normal.”

“Jeez, can you teach me how to do that?” I asked as I typed.

He just laughed and continued his story. “She wasted no time and set her lantern on the ground and lay beside it. ‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘Me parents are not far behind.’

“That was a lie, but it made no difference to me. She spread her legs and I knelt between them. The scent of her arousal was almost overpowering, and probably would have overpowered a mortal. I plunged into her and in a short time we were both approaching that point where she would strike. Once a man starts to spurt, she transforms and continues to draw the seed- and his life, out of his body until there is nothing left but an empty husk.

“I began to spurt and she transformed, but as soon as she transformed, she realized what I was. It was too late. She had opened herself to draw me seed and me life into her body, but instead it was me magic that flowed into her.”

He looked up at me and his face was set in determination as if he were reliving the events he described. “Ye can’t kill a west country sister, but I took away her magic so she could never again transform back to her beautiful self. And then I banished her to the most far away and desolate land I could find.”

The second sister had blonde hair that shimmered in the very dim starlight. She wasn’t carrying a turnip lantern, but was walking down the path like a young lass who was dawdling behind her family. When I stepped out onto the path, she turned, but it wasn’t to run. She bent over exposing that which men and women have in common.

“The cheeks of her ass were round and plump and she wiggled them at me as she giggled and said, ‘Is this what ye’ve been seeking, laddie?’

“‘Aye,’ I answered.

I knew that she had charmed many faithful husbands into her clutches, and now I knew how. There were many men who preferred that nether road to bliss but their wives would never allow it, and here she was on Dark Night offering it to me bold as brass. I leaned over her and grabbed her breasts. She was slick with sweat or grease or both and I slid easily into her. She bucked back against me like a foal gamboling through a pasture.

Again, just as I started to spurt, she transformed from her sleek beauty into the horrible hag she truly was. And again, she realized that I was the hunter, not the hunted. She screeched out a scream that would have awakened the dead to defend her if they had been allowed to hear it, but me magic was already within her and her powers were all but gone. I banished her to join her sister.

“The third sister had auburn hair that appeared absolutely black in the dim starlight of Dark Night. She was carrying two turnip lanterns and swinging them in wide arcs so that they almost appeared to form a smile in the air in front of her. Her skin was darker than her sisters’ and she was barely visible in the faint light. When I stepped onto the path, however, she smiled, and her brilliant white teeth seemed to glow in the light of the lanterns she then held close to her breast.

“‘I know what you want,’ she said with a very throaty voice that was almost as deep as a man’s. Then she knelt on the path in front of me.”

He looked at me as though he were embarrassed and said, “I’d never had a woman… or sprite… or faerie… or any being… take me into their mouths before. It almost distracted me at a time that I could not afford to be distracted, but I recovered m’self just in time and sent me magic into her mouth along with me seed.

“Luckily, I also used me magic to protect m’self because when she reverted to her hag self, she attempted to bite down on me with her scraggly teeth.” He crossed his arms and huffed, “She joined her sisters.”

He jumped up onto my desk and reduced himself back to his miniature size and sat once again upon the computer mouse at the edge of the desk. “The fourth sister,” he said, “was a problem.”

He sighed. “Ye may have noticed that one sister used the sex God gave her, one used her arse, and one used her mouth. The fourth sister used none of those. As I stepped into the path, she came up to me and started sliding her hands over all me body. She was flowing magic out of her fingers… I could tell because it was having a wonderful effect on me maleness. I had to concentrate to keep from letting it grow too big. Then she slipped around behind me and reached under me arms to grab me engorged prick.

“Her hands were greased with something, and she slipped them up and down while pressing herself into me back. Travesti şirinevler As she moaned and writhed behind me, I realized that she was planning to spill me seed onto the path while she took me life by biting me on the neck and sucking the blood from me body.”

He crossed his legs and shook his head and took a long draw from his pipe. “I thought I was a goner,” he said. “But I have magic fingers, too. I pulled me arms around to me back and started rubbing her between the legs. Me fingertips were hot with the magic I was sending out of them, and it was all sexual magic. I could feel her sex throbbing beneath me hands. She could sense what I was and what I was doing. She could also sense that she was losing control and she began sending more magic through her hands onto me prick. It was a tremendous battle of wills. The first one to lose control of themselves would be the loser.”

He laughed. “If she had been the first sister rather than the last, I wouldn’t be here today to tell the tale. But four times in a row even for a Leprechaun is pushing it a mite. I had the advantage on her and after a short while, her legs suddenly began shaking and she started crying out. Her hands dropped from me prick, and I turned and plunged into her as we stood.

“I began to spurt and she began to transform. Her power was increased by her orgasm so it was touch and go for a moment. I was afraid that she could still overpower me. Then she gave a faint scream and fell to the ground as her magic left her. I sent her to join her sisters.”

He stood up and began to pace back and forth across my desk. “I defeated them all and sent them to a far away and nearly empty land where they could do no harm. I figured that with no way to renew their powers they would eventually fade away into the mists.”

He sat back down and puffed furiously on his pipe. “Something tells me,” I said, “that things didn’t exactly work out they way you planned.”

“Thousands of years ago,” he began, “this was a far away and nearly empty land.”

“Do you mean you sent them here?!” I sputtered. “Does that mean the four whatever-they-are sisters are roaming this land looking for men to consume?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a rather sheepish smile. “I defeated them- that’s for sure! I took away their powers. They can’t make themselves beautiful and even if they could, they don’t have the power to draw life and seed out of a man like they once could.”

“But…?” I pressed.

“Well…” he squirmed a little like he didn’t want to answer. “They had almost faded away like I had planned. They weren’t but shadows of what they once were, but then they found a way to keep themselves alive. They may even be getting stronger.”

He stood and paced a little again, “One of the reasons I came here tonight was that I was thinkin’ that maybe ye could tell the story and warn people of what might happen.”

“What might happen?” I asked.

He stood up and pointed his finger at my monitor. My browser opened and suddenly I was on the webpage of “Four Sisters: Costumes for All Occasions.” Another flip of his finger and it moved to their Halloween costumes. There was a naughty nurse in a skimpy white uniform with red, split crotch panties. A naughty cop was just below her. There were two stars to the costume that had optional shields to hide the nipples that stuck through them. The page scrolled slowly down through costume after costume that revealed more than it hid.

“They were one of the first companies to offer the ‘naughty’ costumes.” he said. “Other companies have copied them, but the costumes from the Four Sisters are special.”

“In what way?”

“The sisters still have enough power when all four of them act together,” he explained, “to put a spell on many of their Halloween costumes. A girl who would wear something like that is pretty slutty to begin with, but the costume amplifies it. Any girl who wears a costume from The Four Sisters Costume Company to a Halloween party is compelled by the costume itself to duplicate the actions of at least one of the four sisters… sometimes all four. And when they do, the sisters receive some of the life force that is released.”

He looked up at me and said in a very worried tone of voice, “They are getting stronger. If Halloween gets any raunchier and their costumes get even more popular, who knows? They might eventually get their powers back.”

Light was starting to seep in through the curtains. It was morning. He tapped his pipe against his hand to dislodge the tobacco and put it away in his pocket. “Well now ye have your story,” he said as he put his hat on his head. He walked across the desk and stood before me and added, “I’ll be looking for it on line.” Then he was gone. He didn’t shimmer or fade or disappear in a puff of smoke, he was just gone, leaving no evidence of his presence other than a tiny pile of ashes next to my keyboard.

“That was a weird dream,” I said to myself. But then I looked at the ashes and up at my monitor where The Four Sisters website was still on the screen. A naughty school teacher leered at me in her skimpy, almost-not-there skirt and her white business shirt that was open all the way down to the navel. It was an animated image and she was slapping a long wooden ruler against the palm of her hand in preparation for its use.

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