TITLE: The Fable
Warnings: Bad language and M/M sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters used
in this story.
Summary: A new take on the old fable of Rumpelstiltskin.
Xander is held in the tower prison of the evil King Liam and has
been ordered to spin a roomful of straw to gold. Can he do
it? Is there someone who can help?
Author's note: This story is not betaed or spell checked by anyone but me.
If there are errors that you simply have to point out, feel free but don't be upset
if I don't care.
Comments are greatly appreciated
Thanks to Naughty Fae for the pre-read and encouragementLink
to previous chapters HERE
All the while a long list of objections were forming in Oz's mind, Spike snagged a
brown, tattered cloak that was hanging from the low branch of a nearby, twisted juniper
tree. With a snap of his hand, the cloak billowed through the air like the sail of a great
boat before settling smoothly around his shoulders where it conformed to his body as if
it were measured and designed exclusively for him.
For one last moment, in the darkness of the nighttime forest, Spike's yellow eyes connected
with the pan's green ones and a million unsaid thoughts transferred between them. A
dozen cautions and concerns from Oz and an unapologetic confirmation from Spike that
this was a quest that he had to take despite the slim chance of success.
In the end, Oz understood and although he didn't like it one little bit, he knew that Spike
had nothing else to lose.
With the decision made, Spike reached up and he flipped the voluminous hood of the
woven cloak over his head and when he did, a bizarre and unbelievable transformation
took place. In the blink of an eye, the deformed and grotesque body of the bloodsucking
creature shrank to almost nothing. The heavy brown cloak that encompassed him
immediately morphed as the hood became a cap of dark fur with short, pointed ears and the
flaps of the cape were now webbed wings. Spike's long narrow bare feet shriveled into
paws with talons and the cursed creature of the night changed fully into a bat.
With a high pitched squeal, Spike effortlessly took flight. He circled and swooped around
Oz's head as the pan swatted at the vile, flying rat. "Stop it, Spike. Quit. You know I hate
when you do that."
The bat squeaked its pleasure at tormenting and teasing his friend before a last flutter of
wings caused it to turn, lift skyward and it was gone. With a flutter of his white tail, Oz
cupped his hands to his mouth and he shouted. "You be careful! Stay away from the mage
and don't you go getting yourself killed! You hear me, Spike? Don't you even think
about talking to me if you get yourself killed!"
Spike heard, but he was already determined and had no time to waste on soothing Oz's fears.
If there was a virgin boy within the walls of the castle, Spike had to know and so, without
a backward glance, Spike soared. He strained and he flew straight upwards until he burst
from the tops of the trees to where he could see the twinkling of the stars and feel the
cool embrace of the soft blue moon.
And he was free.
It was the one aspect of the curse that Spike knew he would miss if the spell were ever
broken. The thrill of taking flight. To feel the soft night air skim over his small, rat-like
body and pound beneath his wings like a bird. It was amazing. It was liberating. It was
the only time that he was almost able to leave the horror of his life behind him.
While the reality of his nightmare was always ever present in his mind, it was times like this
that he was able to cope and not consider ending it once and for all. And maybe that's why
he was given the small treat of a bag of tricks. After all, what fun would it be for King Liam
if Spike were dead? The curse was the suffering.
But not right now. Right now, Spike was soaring. His leathery wings flapped furiously as
his sonic squeaks bounced off the trees and obstacles in this path, guiding him safely above
the dark and foreboding woods. He plotted his course through instinct and memory and
he focused on his speed and journey while not allowing himself to consider what the hell
he would do once he got there.
Deep in his tiny bat heart, Spike knew this was probably a fruitless journey. His cousin,
Liam was weak and even if Sir Giles advised against touching and fouling the boy, Liam
would do so anyway. He couldn't help himself. Liam was King of the land but his cock
was the king of Liam.
But even Spike did not know the full extent of his cousin's corruption. The true tale could
not be told through long distance gossip.
The fact was, Liam would fuck partly out of lust because, simply put, the royal cock craved
ass. It wiggled and it snaked in the regal trousers whenever a handsome young buck was
near and it stood almost constantly at ready as it sought the tight, hot channels of the
boyish subjects of the land. King Liam was insatiable. Especially because he had an
The underlying reason for Liam's unchecked carnal activities was because it was a gross
display of his power. His cock was his scepter and his weapon. He used it to prove
his dominance through humiliation and pain.
He was shameless. He was sadistic. He was King!
In short, he did it because he could.
But, for now, Spike refused to think about any of that. He glided through the branches
and allowed the soft leaves and flowers to brush against his tiny, pointy snout. He stretched
back his lips in a grin that showed the tips of his pin-point fangs.
It was a bizarre conundrum but when he was in bat form, he was a more living thing. His
heart beat and his lungs stretched and expanded with the need for oxygen. Although he
still craved the blood of the forest's creatures, he also had hungers that tickled him beyond
belief and he knew where to find the foods that would satisfy that need.
Veering off to the West, at the edge of the deep woods, Spike located the grove he sought
and he floated down to rest. He extended his little feet and he spread his razor sharp claws
as he settled down onto one of the rich, fruit-laden trees. Working his way across the
thin branch, he climbed onto a fat, juicy orange and he lunged, sinking his fangs in and he
began to suckle.
Immediately, he felt flush with the wet, sweet fluid that effused him. It zapped him with its
sharp tangy flavor as it shot bolts of high-energy natural sugars into his bloodstream. It
was exhilarating! It was liquid sunshine and Spike squeaked with delight. It was glorious.
It was heavenly. It made his snout twitch and his wings flutter with joy. It made his tiny,
bat-dick grow fat and erect and it felt like the epitome of life itself.
After draining two more oranges, Spike staggered as his bloated belly threatened to ground
him and he knew it was time to go. To lighten his load, and just because he could, Spike
took a long, satisfying pee and he dropped a load of nutrient-rich guano to fertilize the
soil beneath him. He then shook his head and he leapt again into the air and headed straight
for the castle of Liam O'Connor knowing he had to fly faster and beat his wings harder in
order to beat the sunrise.
It had been late in the evening when Xander had been dragged back through the long hallways
of the castle and up three sets of winding, circular stairways. He knew he was in one of
the round turrets of the castle because on each full turn, he had been able to glimpse out
the narrow slotted opening to see the sky and the land below. Higher and higher they
climbed and Xander wondered if this was the last time he would ever see the fresh air
Finally, when they stopped at what must have been the very top of the tower, Finn produced
a large key that slid into the gaping lock on a heavy wooden door. When the door swung
inward, Xander was grabbed by both arms and the accompanying guards pitched him
roughly into the room where he landed painfully on his knees. "Ow."
Instantly, he leapt to his feet and rushed towards the door only to be stopped by Finn who
aimed the point of a steel dagger in Xander's face. "Halt! You are brought here by the
orders of the King and only he can release you."
Strangled by the terror of claustrophobia, Xander whined. "You can't leave me here.
Please. Surely the King is not crazy enough to think I can...."
In a flash, Finn lunged forward and pressed the tip of the blade against the throbbing vein
in the side of Xander's neck. "No man insults the King! If he says you can turn straw to
gold, then you had better do so. You have twenty four hours before I return and if you
want to live, you better get started."
With that, Riley Finn and his fellow guards turned and slammed the door of the prison
tower room leaving Xander all alone. Although he know it was pointless, he threw
himself against the solid portal and he began beating his fists and shouting. "Let me out!
Let me out!!! Help me! Please, let me out!"
Within minutes, he slid to the floor with sore hands and a tear-streaked face as he
whispered, "Please. Please." Although he knew no one would answer. He knew
he was screwed.
Finally, with a snuffle, Xander swiped his hand under his runny nose and he slowly rose
to his feet. He turned around to assess his situation and was dismayed to see that it was
all worse than he had feared.
The room in which he had been imprisoned was round with a diameter of no more than
fifteen feet. It was cold and the walls were damp with seeping moisture. It smelled dank
and moldy and the only light came from two long slits high up in the furthest wall. Although
it was much too high to reach, Xander found that if he stood at just the right angle, he
could catch a glimpse of the inky night sky.
With the aid of the limited, dim light of the moon, Xander could tell that the room contained
no furniture. No chair for sitting and no bed to lie on. There was no table which he
interpreted as their intent to starve him and there was no bucket for his waste. To Xander,
it appeared that he had been placed here with the express purpose of dying.
Except for the other odd things that were here with him.
And those were a large pile of loose, dry straw and an old but functional spinning wheel
much like the one used by his mother to twine the sheep's wool. Xander shook his head
in disbelief. It was apparently true. The King was actually crazy enough to believe that
Xander could spin this straw into gold.
And he had just one day in which to accomplish this feat of metallic prestidigitation or face
the certainty of death.
A frustrated terror welled up inside him. He felt as if he were strangling and couldn't
find enough oxygen to fill his lungs. He clutched at his throat and his mouth gapped open
in a silent scream as he shuffled around the perimeter of the room with his hands running
over the cold, rough stone. He tripped as his feet stumbled in the mounds of straw and
he scrapped at the walls till his fingernails were torn and ragged.
Until he was spent.
He was exhausted from the days of walking and the emotional turmoil. His mind and heart
had whip lashed between the grief and sorrow of believing his parents had been killed and
then the shock of learning it was all a lie.
He was panicked and confused. He was in disbelief at the odd turn his previously predictable
life had taken although deep down, he was fairly certain the source of the misconception
had been the in the bottom of a stein of ale. When drunk, Tony Harris did love to spin a
good tale and this one must have been a doozy.
Xander ran his hands over his face and he gripped large fistfuls of hair by the roots. His
heart held no anger towards his father and lamenting the why's and wherefore's was pointless.
It would not open the door and restore his freedom.
He was doomed. He was fucked.
Not knowing what else to do, Xander slid down with his back pressed against the damp
stone wall and he slumped to sit on the floor where he lowered his face and wept.
The tears flowed freely as his thoughts centered on his lost freedom and the family that
he desperately missed. He wanted out. He wanted to go home. He wanted the safety
and security of his small cottage and the bosom of his mother.
With the knowledge and admission to himself that all of those things had been so
cruelly snatched away on the absurdity of his so-called skills, Xander knew his death was
surely only a cycle of the sun away. And really, at this point, death was preferable to
With that in mind, Xander laid down on his side. He scooped large handfuls of straw up
and packed it underneath himself to make a bed on which he curled up in a fetal position.
There, he squeezed his eyes shut and he cried until he cried himself to sleep.
Just at the moment Xander gave in and succumbed to the arms of Morpheus, a small,
almost silent fluttering of wings entered the tower room through the high, narrow window
slit. From there, the curious brown bat glided downward for a closer inspection.
The prisoner was obviously poor. A peasant. His clothes were too small, probably a gift
of charity. His shirt was torn and dirty and the souls of his cloth boots were worn nearly
through. His trousers had several patches well sewn-on which meant the boy had either a
woman or an attentive mother.
Spike was stumped why the Liam would think that a boy with no worldly possessions
could bring great wealth to the King's coffers.
Drifting from the head of the scruffy boy, down to his feet, Spike's beady little clear blue
eyes studied the pitiful form while the rodent's sensitive snout wriggled, scenting the air for
any traces of the King's violation. Surprisingly, he found none. It was apparent that the
human had not bathed in weeks, possibly months and yet there was no smell of any
male contribution. It wasn't positive verification that the boy was indeed a virgin but it
was certainly intriguing.
One thing was clear. The boy was distressed. Even in sleep, he whimpered and jerked like
a rabbit in the shadow of a wolf. Every muscle in his body was strung tightly. His brow
was furrowed and his mouth was pulled in a thin, straight line.
Spike's tiny pointy ears wiggled while his beating heart filled with sympathy for the human.
At least this was something he could help with.
Gently, Spike hovered over the boy's face. Careful not to wake him, Spike's leathery
wings flapped, in slow motion, brushing like a whisper across the human's warm
forehead, unshaven cheeks and long, dark eyelashes. Almost immediately, the stress
seemed to melt from Xander's face. A soft sigh escaped his lips and his body uncurled
as Spike bestowed upon him the magic gift of a dreamless slumber.
At almost the same time Xander was finally finding peace, Spike noticed the pink hues of
a coming dawn filtering through the gaps high in the turret walls and his instincts for
self preservation kicked in.
Leaving the boy to sleep, Spike swooped high in circles that went round and round the
perimeter of the room until he found just what he was looking for. At nearly the very top
near the ceiling, at the side of a solid, wooden beam, there was a crack. It was not much
more than a crevice in the stone of the wall but it was more than adequate to serve his needs.
Landing with his claws outstretched, Spike latched onto the corner of the wooden beam and
he worked his way over to the edge. When he came to the fissure in the stone, he ducked
his head and folded his wings tightly around his small body. Making himself as compact
as possible, he twisted and turned until he was hanging fully upside down.
There, he was safe. He was concealed by the darkness and protected by the obstructions
from view while maintaining a perfect vantage point and, like the young man on the floor,
Spike was exhausted.
With a big yawn that exposed his pointy fangs, the false bat blinked his tired eyes. "Sleep
well through the light of the day, my boy for when the sun sets and the moon rises we will
have much to discuss." Spike chuckled as he took one last look at the bizarre predicament
the human had landed in. The varmint shook his furry little head and he too fell asleep.