The Most Demanding Harvest Princess

There's a parade going on, and it's in your honor. Or, it's supposed to be.

You don't really feel like anyone is happy, or that this is any kind of celebration. And by "parade" you meant a procession of people dressed up in harvest garments and big horse hoop skirts. They were prancing down the road and banging the bell of tithe to the fields in sad and unenthused manner.

It's sunset in the autumn, so the world is bathed in many layers of gold, and at least your last view of the world will be one that makes your homeland look as stunning as a painting. This is the last of the season before the winter sage rests his head on the land, and nothing will grow until spring time. All that can be taken for food from the land has been gathered.

This year, though?

This year it's been a terrible harvest.

Hands are busy right now attempting to salvage what was grown into food stores that might last the winter, but the prospect seems grim. That is why you're being walked out here by a parade of dower people, while dressed in a straw dress, tied tight onto your form with a long red ribbon. The power of man failed this year, and so the people must ask for help from the power of good gods, to ensure their survival through the dead-times.

They've decided that you're the Harvest Princess, and so it is your duty to offer yourself to the Harvest King, to appease him before the first frost. They believed with all their hearts that if they did not, he would come and eat up all the stores before mid-winter, and the town would starve.

You were of these people, and so believed in all that as well. However, your faith was being surely tested as you were the one dragged outside of town and used as a sacrifice. You have no desire to be an offering to the gods, and did not choose to be the Harvest Princess.

In fact, you would say there were better choices out there.

There were prettier girls. There were hearty girls. There were girls more faithful to prayer. There were girls who never disobeyed their fathers, and girls who were smatter. There were girls who could pick fruits and never break a stem, and some who seemed to make any field they neared barren.

All those girls seemed perfectly acceptable as offerings. Even better than you honestly.

But whoever else could stand here in your place, they were too precious to let go. The town would rather sacrifice you, even if you weren't the best choice. Your family was large and could do with having one less mouth to feed. Since you still fit all the qualifications of a sacrifice, you were taken. It was as simple as that.

Now that the wheat crown had been placed on your head, you'd accepted this somber duty (even if you didn't volunteer for it). You didn't want your people to starve to death, so you would do your part marching, though your heart can not be stilled. Terror keeps you moving forward.

They sang the songs and swore your soul to the land, wrapping their offering (of your life!!) up in the last harvest moon of the year, and you accepted all this with your head down while biting your lip. It was just the right thing to do, even if it meant your death.

Saving the town at the sacrifice of your life had to be the noble and good thing? Right?!?

That didn't stop your hands from shaking and your heart from pounding.

Sweat poured out of you, making you slick even in the cool evening air. Yet, you walked on best you could, up until the moment they stopped and everyone was supposed to circle you, so you could be picked up and put up on a mighty scarecrow.

There you would be tied to the ever-watcher and pushed down into into the field for the Pumpkin Lord to snatch.

Thinking about it made you almost hurl. The procession stopped and your eyes bounced around. This wasn't even a whole parade--it was supposed to almost half the town out here. Did they really care so little about you, they couldn't even sacrifice you with enthusiasm? It seemed so wrong, instead of right.

Without thinking, your feet freeze. Then just before they could close in on you, you bolted.

Running and running as fast as your legs could take you while the townspeople behind you screamed for you to stop. You heard their voices. Your old teacher, the woodcutter down the road, the rich miller and his family, and the farmer. The priest, the fencer, and even your own father demanded you return and be taken. You would not obey.

However, fate was a cruel, fickle thing. Because heading to the fields was your destiny and you would not escape it. For as you ran some good distance, you tripped on a thick tree root. But this was not the end of your humiliation. You tripped, then fell backwards, tumbling down a small but steep hill and falling right into the very fields you'd try to flee from.

At the bottom of that hill was another hole, one you hadn't noticed from the road. As you fall down it and into darkness, you curse your luck and think it must be some kind of sink hole that's opened up just to swallow you whole.

Maybe the town was right to just sacrifice you. You were a useless body...

You seemed to tumble for a long time, longer than you thought you should. Long enough you could turn around and feel the wind pass by you, and still than you just kept on falling. Falling and falling in the darkness until you hit something that rung with a hallow kind of sound. You bounced off whatever that was, then hit the ground with a poof of dust.

Presumably, you'd finally hit dirt. But as you sat up from your landing and realized that you were not a flattened pancake on the floor and were actually in fact completely unharmed, you began to think something odd was going on!

It was then you heard a strange kind of snicker, in fact, it was the strangest sort of snickering laughter you'd ever heard in your life.

Getting up to your feet in a furious kind of huff--quite frankly sick of everyone else at this point!--you're about to share a few pointed and harsh words towards this stranger. The gist of which would be mind your own business! Before you freeze in place.

Before you is no normal young man. In fact, you'd hardly classify him as a man, though just now you'd swear he had the voice of one.

Here stand before you, the Pumpkin King, deity of the fields and harvests, who you were meant to be sacrificed to. It seems like you didn't mess up the offering for your village after all, for you had tumbled into his domain entirely by accident.

At first you can't help but be terrified.

This big pumpkin creature that stands up like a man is rather strange and off putting to look at. But then... but then he isn't nearly as tall as you'd thought he'd be. Or as brawny. He's not made of veins and leaves like you thought he would be, though he did have a pumpkin on his head with the Jack's face cut out.

It was a laughing face though, and not at all scary.

The pumpkin god laughed again and then put his hands up lifted the hollowed-out gord off his shoulders, throwing is off into the nothing behind you, where it hit the wall with a splat. He was a rather boyish looking man. Though he looked strong, he had a breezy kind of way of holding himself, and he had a charming smile which was so arresting, your heart skipped a beat...

He was cute. Way cuter than you'd expected a god to be--in fact, you'd thought him to be an angry scary monster. He laughed, while you jumped and went from furious to petrified as quickly as you'd thought you'd recovered your nerve.

Behind you the pumpkin's fall echoed about in the tunnels and your heart felt like it was in your toes.

Was this really how you were going to die?

But he speaks before you can beg for your life.

"You're not from around this tunnel are you!" Then he laughed again, "Hey lady, I like your dress."

You blink, and look down at your straw clothes. They really aren't much. Just a pale-yellow assemblage of raw straw bound around your waist with red ribbon that they tied around your thin white sleeping gown. It was disgusting really, that they were to sacrifice you where you were this naked, but that was beside the point now.

The pumpkin king than turned his head and scratched his neck. "It sure reminds me of something, but I just can't think of what!"

Finally, you find the will to speak. "H-haven't you seen a lot of girls dressed like this?"

He snickered again. "No! Why would I have seen that, huh?"

"Because you're the pumpkin lord! You're the King of the Fields!" You say back. "We send you people who, well, look like me, as a sacrifice every generation or so."

"Oh, do you?" He brushed it off. "If I find any girls down here, I usually just let them do whatever."

You pale. "You don't, I don't know, eat them, then bless our harvests?"

He laughed right in your face, "Why would I do that?"

"B-b-beacause you're a god!" You spout back, now thoroughly confused and running back around to felling angry, "I really don't think I should need to explain your duties to you."

But he just laughed at you again, and frankly, it was starting to get on your nerves.

"Oh, I get it! You want to get eaten up."

You almost spluttered, "Why would you think that?"

"Because all the princesses they've sent down here run off the moment they saw me, not to mention none of them were dressed as nicely as you." Then he crosses his arms, tilts his head, and says, "You're staying, so I guess that means you're my wife now."

"I'm your wife?!" You squeak.

"Great! So, you agree!"

This presumptuous man! Of course you didn't agree!

Before you could say yes or no, he'd grabbed you by the arm and was sweeping you away. You had to run to keep up with him, all the while trying to reason with this trickster god (who was having a very fun time pretending like he couldn't understand you.) And when he finally stopped running, you were so out of breath that you couldn't string a word together.

He grabbed your hand and then dragged you out into unexpected brightness, and declared, "Welcome home!"

It was a beautiful glade, lush green, with a waterfall in the back and a little hut sitting at the center of a meandering river island. Several golden beams of sunlight, the very last glorious bits of light on this very bizarre day, cast almost a glitter upon the short grasses and gentle water. This was the most tranquil place you've ever seen, lorded over by the nosiest most rambunctious man you'd ever been in the company of.

"Great, isn't it?" He beamed at you, then dragged you towards the cabin. "You've got caves all over this land, which is why I've been here so long. I like this spot a lot. And I really like pumpkins! The ones you guys grow around here are the best, so I stick around in fall. Don't know why that makes you think I'm some kind of harvest god or something." He shrugs.

At this point, all you could do was marvel. "Just what are you?"

"Oh, I am a god, I'm just not in charge of plants and growing stuff."

You don't seem like you should be in charge of anything. Is what you say to yourself. But your words are once again stollen from you in a gasp when he picks you p again. This is all he will bother to explain before he swoops you up into his arms. He hitches the wooden door of his cabin open with his foot than brings the both of you inside.

"If you're going to be my wife, we'll have to make you one too." Then he tilts his head again and looks to think real hard. "Just what should you be a god of though..."

"Now look here, I haven't agreed to any of this!" You try to reason.

As he was thinking, he'd put you down on a giant rustic bed, which was covered by a downy pillow that was shockingly comfortable. He stares down at you for a moment.

"Just what is going on here!" You now demand. "And why am I in your bed!?!"

It's then a light spark in his eyes. He snapped his fingers then, and says, "I got it. You'll be the Goddess of Demanded Explanations!" Then he laughed.

"As if I would be!" You were a fit of embarrassment in turn, then spluttered. "It that's true, then I demand to know what kind of god you are. You're obviously not the harvest god we've been supposedly scarifying our town girls to!"

"I'm the God of Denied Fate! I make things that aren't supposed to happen, happen!" And in turn he slapped a hand over his mouth, seeming shocked. Though when he removed it, he seemed more amused than upset. "Hey, your power is already working, I'm not supposed to tell anybody that! Then again, you are my wife, I guess it's fine..."

"So, I wasn't supposed to fall down this damn hole and meet you, after all. How could you do this to people, you're a terrible god! You're a terror!"

But then, the mirth evaporated off him, and he got really close to you, until his dark eyes become your whole world, and with a somber near mythic tone, he asked you, "So you would rather be dead?"

It's a very serious question, asked in a very serious sudden manner.

You swallow hard, and think for one baited moment.

Would you rather be dead?

"I suppose not." You manage to say, and his severity breaks.

"See! Everything works out in the end." He says with a smaller smile, meant more for himself than you. Then his eyes ghost over your frame now in his bed. "You know, I waited a long time to have a wife."

"You don't have one now." You mutter back as he gets closer. "And if you did, I'm sure you wouldn't know what to do with her."

He snickered at that. In a lower voice, which makes a flush creep across your person, he adds. "And what makes you think that?"

You blink at him twice, and find that you've run out of room to scramble away as he's crept over you. When he's this close, and you're compelled to focus on him, you realize he is very handsome, in a kind of way that takes you totally off guard.

How many times had you daydreamed about getting swept off your feet by some charming man who would take you away from your superstitious little town? Be it in historical books, or fantasies?

If there was anyone who you might have pictured in dreams like that, frankly, the god before you was not so different from who you might have imagined. But you'd never taken your idle daydreams very seriously--until today you'd though of the gods as more ephemeral beings rather than real people.

As if he can read your mind (and he can't, but to him the truth is just as self-evident as if he could...)

"You know, I can only make things happen that someone wants to happen, but they think it can't." He explained, "And two things like that have happened today."

You swallowed thickly. "And just what is that?"

"One, you tumbled down a hole and landed on my pumpkin so you lived--that shouldn't've been impossible. Two, my grandpa told me that's how I'd meet my wife and I thought that was stupid." Then he shrugged his shoulders, "But here you are. So be happy!"

He demanded, and then, so that you could not defend yourself, he began to tickle you.

"Wait, hey--" But before you could tell him to stop, you were laughing.

His fingers were running up and down your sides with such a fury that all you could do was laugh. He seemed to pinpoint just where you were most ticklish with a foolish ease and attacked you there.

You laughed until you cried, until you were basically wheezing, begging him to stop. Your stomach hurt and you felt oddly flush as he pinned you down and did whatever it was he pleased, even if that was just making you writhe and giggle.

"Please! It's too much! Please!" You manage to cry and he relents just a moment. Though he does so by pinning your wrists up above your head, and staring at you so close you were nose for nose.

"Then you can call me Sa'd." He tells you, and you bite your lip. "And agree to be my wife."

With a wavering voice, you're defeated. "Please, Sa'd..."

"Please what?"

He was just goading you now, and you knew it, but you had been thoroughly stolen by him.

"Please, I'll agree to be your wife. Just stop tickling me."

"I will, I will. But that doesn't mean I'm done just yet." Perhaps you made a face when he said that, because he snickered, and then said, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you feel good to."

He deft fingers slip from your sides to between your thigh, and as they slide between your legs, he laughs again.

"I think you like getting tickled." He says, and to your ears it's more mocking than he means it.

You are, in a word, obscenely wet already. A slick sloshing kind of sound fills the quiet in the room as he slips his fingers across your most sensitive place. It's unfair the quickness of his hand makes your toes curl so soon, and your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulders. The opaque sound of your pleasure makes the truth so obvious, even when you would deny it with your mouth.

You want him. And when he has you, you will be reshaped.

But for now he stops before you fully unravel and you let out a little disappointed groan.

"You're going to feel great." He chuckles, and then grasps your hips and drags you a little further under him.

He's a tease, you'll learn in more ways than one, and he grabs himself and rubs the tip of his cock against the entrance of your pussy until you moan particularly loudly and command him to "Just fuck me already!"

"Alright!" He chirps, and slams himself inside of you.

You gasp, feeling fuller than you thought you might, and stretch in a way that tetters on painful. Tears even prick your eyes, but the feeling of being full is so satisfying that it eclipses the pain entirely. His hands too, with their study grip, ground you into the moment and make every thrust of his hips after that feel doubly intense. He pins you there, and all you can do is take it.

The pleasure leaks out of you, both from between your joined hips, and your mouth. A string of curses and pleads make up all you say, begging him both for more and berating him for being so nonchalant with you as he fucked you senseless.

When he came, obviously he did it inside you. Whether or not he could get your pregnant didn't much matter, it only added to your feeling of fullness, and you doubted he thought into the future far enough to care if he'd just spawned his godly-progeny inside of you. However, it was naive of you to think that he would be stopped there.

Not at all minding the mess he'd already made; he fucked you again not long after you caught your breath. This second time he rolled over so you were on top. Even then he remained decisively in control, using your hips at whatever pace he liked. This time slower, with shallow thrusts that seemed to hit your most sensitive place until you were again weeping, and grabbing him desperately to ground yourself in the overstimulation of it all.

When he was done again you felt stuffed full and exhausted, but still he was not resolved. He let you lay down at least, but turned you over so he could watch your ass as he fucked you from behind with almost as much enthusiasm of the first time, so that your fingers dug at his mattress and you tried to run from the pleasure.

You thought after that he'd be satiated--but oh no. He had you another two times, letting you lay there completely spent, as he held your legs up and seemed determined to make your stomach bulge with all the cum he was stuffing you with.

Just how much stamina did this guy have! You had to wonder as he pulled you in for another round.

"Mercy, Sa'd, mercy. How is it you have so much energy?!" You huff and puff.

At your demanded explanation, he just laughs at you. But, and most importantly, he doesn't stop fucking.

Maybe he really had been waiting a very long time for a wife. You would try to teach him about moderation (but that was probably impossible.)

You'd just have to get used to him, and all his strange laughter, if you're to serve beside him as his wife--whatever that will look like! ((and not like you'd agreed to that yet!!)) But as he smiled and touched your skin with a lovely kind of fondness, you felt yourself swooning again. Not to mention he was shockingly skillful with his hands...

You had to think that it was going to work out fine in the end of it, just like he said. Though he would never learn to explain himself, no matter how much you demanded.