"I wouldna go in those woods if I was you, lass."

The elderly bar owner set the glass of beer down before Gwyneth as he spoke. The dark-haired American grad student had made the mistake of telling the Irishman that she was researching local legends. Unfortunately, he was very superstitious, and there was no end to his dire warnings concerning the supernatural.

The girl took a sip of beer. "And why is that?"

"Thae wee folk'd take a likin' to a nice young lass as yerself, and have you as a prize, they will." His eyes bulged as he delivered this grim omen.

"You mean they'd keep me as a sex slave?" she said, barely containing her amusement.

"Aye, that they will."

"Oooookay, then. I'll be sure to bring my stun gun and pepper spray."

The old man, realizing she was making light of him, dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He muttered something which sounded like "foolish woman," but Gwyneth had already dismissed him as a fool. Some local men came in and started hitting on her, so she quickly finished her beer and left.

The boarding house where she had rented a room was just down the street. As she strolled down the cobblestone road, she giggled at the thought of leprechauns forcing themselves on her, like some kind of X-rated Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Some people were just so weird.

________________________________

In the morning, she decided to dress in her sexiest clothes so she could give the leprechauns a thrill. IF they existed, that is. She had discovered that there WAS a history of women disappearing in the nearby woods, though it was fewer than a dozen over the past several hundred years. It wasn't like there was a serial killer or secret cult responsible, probably just some young girls who had gotten lost or things like that.

She pulled on sheer pink stockings, then a pink lace garter belt, followed by sheer white thong panties and a lacy pink push-up bra. A tight denim mini-skirt and a plain white blouse completed her look.

Gwyneth attracted a few looks, both approving and disapproving, as she left the boarding house and headed for the woods.

It was a perfect summer morning, warm and sunny, and the woods were lush and green. If nothing else, it would be a nice few hours communing with nature.

The fresh clean air was intoxicating, so Gwyneth was completely caught off-guard when a nearby voice said "Hello!"

She jumped, startled to see a handsome young man not ten feet away. He smiled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. You're new here, aren't you?"

"Um, uh, why yes. I'm Gwyneth. I'm a grad student from the U.S. I'll be here for a few months studying ancient legends and folklore."

"Well, you've come to the right place," he said, "because you've stumbled into one of the last leprechaun kingdoms in the whole British Isles."

Before the girl could reply, the man vanished. What the hell? she thought. Maybe it was a good time to leave. But then she found she couldn't.

Her body was completely frozen. There was nothing she could do, as she couldn't move an inch. What had he done to her? Could all those folk tales really be true? Was the bar owner right?

She got her answer a few minutes later, as half-a-dozen leprechauns little more than a foot tall came scampering through the grass toward her. Oh, my God, she thought, this can't be happening to me. I must be hallucinating!

But she wasn't. The little fairies cackled with glee as they surrounded her. The hapless girl felt tiny hands slide up and down her legs admiringly, and she truly began to get frightened. She didn't want to disappear like all the others!

Unfortunately, things took a darker turn. She felt hands at her lower back, and there was the sound of a zipper being opened. Her skirt dropped to her ankles.

Gwyneth wanted to cry. This was getting scary! Frozen, her eyes staring straight ahead, she could barely even see them as they fumbled with her blouse buttons and pulled the garment open. They laughed and poked at her full breasts, speaking with excited voices in their ancient tongue. A few tugs here and there and her blouse slid off her shoulders and down her arms completely.

The grad student stood there in her skimpy frilly underwear, terrified and vulnerable as these mythical creatures danced around and taunted her.

And then, just as she feared, her underwear went next.

She felt the elastic back strap of her bra pull away from her body, and then, with a whoosh, it flew open, bouncing up in front of her as it popped free of her chest, the deflated cups coming to rest around her collarbone. A warm breeze dried the sweat on her now-bare titties, and she could feel her nipples stiffen and grow.

Little fingers fumbled with her garter tabs-- Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!-- and they sprang free from her stockings to dangle daintily around her thighs. Hands gripped the tops of the nylons, and her stockings were peeled from her legs until they were bunched up around her ankles with her skirt. The panties came next, the thin tiny garment slipping easily to the ground, revealing her shaved Brazilian pussy and her labia ring, then finally her garter belt, slowly caressing her skin as it was dragged down by the stretchy elastic garters.

They grabbed the straps of her bra and tugged it off her arms, then somehow managed to remove all her lower garments and shoes without moving her feet. The tiny beings ran around merrily with her underwear, playing tug-of-war or snagging them on trees and bushes until there was nothing left but torn shreds. Gwyneth couldn't see much of it, but she could hear the ripping and tearing of her frilly undergarments; from the corner of her eye she could barely distinguish her skirt and blouse, which had been trampled into the mud not far away. The captive girl would have fled naked if she could, as she knew they were drawing out her torment as much as possible.

Soon, they turned their attention to her. Gwyneth felt them probe her pussy lips, tug on her labia ring, and flick her clit with their fingers, and she was unable to prevent her pussy from getting hot and swollen. She couldn't even cry, as even her tear ducts seemed to be immobilized.

One stood on the shoulders of another and began pinching and tugging at her nipples, which hurt. A lot. Still. she could not cry tears or vocalize her pain. One leprechaun jumped up and grabbed a nipple, stretching her tit painfully as he swung back and forth from the tender nub of flesh before losing his grip and tumbling to the ground.

But just when the poor girl didn't think things could get any worse, two of the mischevious beings appeared with a leather harness. Gwyneth felt a sick feeling settle in her gut as they threw heavy straps over her shoulders. A wide belt tightened around her waist, and two crotch straps flanked her pubis and butt. Cuffs gripped her wrists, and a shelf bra on the front of the harness hefted her bare breasts until they nearly pointed skyward. Her soft skin yielded as each strap was pulled tight and buckled into place.

With the harness secured, they climbed up her back and put on the bridle. The college girl was helpless as they gleefully worked the breaking bit with keys into her mouth, then positioned and buckled the straps around her head. If she could have, she would've winced as the sharp metal keys bit into her soft tongue, and fought to keep her head from being enclosed in the web of leather strips that criss-crossed her face and hair.

Something heavy was attached to the back of the harness, and intuition told her that she was being fitted with a saddle. They were turning her into a riding pony! Could there be anything more humiliating than this? Yes, there could.

Tiny hands spread her butt cheeks apart, and a large artificial phallus was forcibly inserted into her rectum. The pain was so excruciating, she thought she was being torn apart. And it kept going, until she felt it lodge deep inside her. Hair brushed the back of her legs, and she knew she had been fitted with a pony tail.

One of the leprechauns climbed into the saddle, reached around to clip reins to her bit, and then snapped his fingers. Gwyneth blinked. She could move again. Unfortunately, this was no blessing. Her rider dug his heels into her sides and yanked on the reins, and an unwilling ponygirl broke into a steady trot.

The other leprechauns ran beside her, laughing and making fun of her. Gwyneth had heard of ponygirls before, but never knew how humiliating and degrading the experience could be. She began to stumble as tears obscured her sight, and was rewarded with a whack on her ass from her rider's shillelagh. Her shoes had been left behind, and the tender soles of her feet stung from sharp rocks and dry twigs.

Her legs were the only things that were allowed to move freely, with the exception of her full breasts bouncing up and down in their leather half-bra. Her arms were cuffed to her waist belt, and if she tried to turn her head, her rider jerked on one of the reins, the metal keys tearing into her tongue as a reminder to keep her eyes forward.

The leprechaun dug his heels in even harder. Faster, faster! The naked woman dashed through the woods, unable to think of anything but her immediate torment. Though she was fairly athletic, she soon found herself near exhaustion as her body ached from the punishing run.

Then, just as she was about to collapse, there was a long pull on the reins. Gwyneth slowed down, and soon found herself in a clearing, and beheld a sight which unnerved her even more.

There were other ponygirls -- dozens of them, all being ridden by leprechauns. They were being trained in various dressage maneuvers, or were made to race across the field as fast as their legs could carry them. Others stood hitched to trees, immobile, as if trained to stand motionless for as long as necessary until they were needed.

And there was something else she noticed -- the ponygirls all had hair trimmed into horses' manes, hooves instead of hands and feet, pointed horse ears instead of rounded human ones, and wide, flat equine snouts replacing their noses.

As the dark-haired college student surveyed the scene, she realized that these women had been captured over the course of many centuries, many of the disappearances having gone unnoticed because of their lowly status. Some she did recognize, from princesses of long ago to young women who had vanished in recent years. They all retained their youthfulness, as if they were suspended in time.

Gwyneth's heart sank. It was well-known to folklorists that time meant nothing in the fairy realm, which meant that she would be trapped for eternity, never dying, forever suffering. She noticed something odd at the bottom of her vision, and found that she, too, had a snout. Glancing down even further revealed that her fingers and hands were now hard thick hooves. An ear twitched -- twitched! -- as a fly buzzed near her head. She cried out involuntarily and shook her head in disbelief, only to hear a horse's whinny escape from her throat and feel her shaggy mane sweep along the back of her head and neck. The leprechauns had used their magical powers to turn her into a half-human creature!

Her rider laughed at her distress and snapped the reins. Obediently, Gwyneth trotted forward into the absurd realm to which she had been taken.

The newly-captured woman was given a stall in an ever-expanding stable, and was trained with all the other imprisoned women. She was fed a steady diet of bugs and grasses from a feedbag, with only an occasional piece of fruit as a reward. Frequently, she and some of the others would be ridden through the forest, where she would hear tantalizing sounds of nearby hikers or vehicular traffic to remind her of what she had lost.

Breathing through her wide nostrils was easy, but it took her time to adjust to her new ears and their altered way of hearing, and the fact that she now had awkward useless hooves instead of beautiful fingers and hands. The equine sounds that issued from her throat whenever she tried to speak startled her for many months, until she learned to control her vocalizations to convey various messages.

Twice, she had glimpsed through a window in one of their little houses a naked, bound, and hooded woman kneeling in a small alcove, whose distended breasts were milked for their sweet nectar, and knew that there were fates far worse than hers. Not that her existence was getting any better. One day a month, she and the others would be staked out on the ground on all fours, their legs spread and asses in the air, as centaurs appeared and engaged in an orgy of ferocious sex, penetrating the helpless women repeatedly with their massive members while the leprechauns danced and drank around them. Gwyneth would be sore for days afterward.

As time went on, the dark-haired college girl came to accept her new life as a half-human chattel to her otherworldly masters, and her previous life faded until all memory of it was gone.

__________________________

AMERICAN GIRL STILL MISSING

June 23 - One year ago, 24-year-old Gwyneth O'Dell vanished after leaving her boarding house room to take a walk in the local woods. The pretty dark-haired girl had been visiting this small town while researching local legends and folklore for a thesis she was working on.

"We searched these woods for two solid weeks with experienced crews and search dogs," said the town police chief. "If she had been alive, we would've found her." No sign of her has ever been uncovered, leading to all sorts of theories ranging from sudden amnesia to alien abduction. Kidnapping seems unlikely, and speculation is that she fell into a marsh and drowned, though no body has been recovered. However, experts say that the areas marshes are slow to give up their dead, and that she may not be found for decades, if ever.

Strangely enough, ancient legend has it that the woods are inhabited by lecherous leprechauns, who kidnap young women and take them to their fairy realm. Adding to this legend is the fact that numerous females have vanished in these same woods going back hundreds of years, though no one knows the exact number.

"People misjudge the dangers of the wild always, especially inexperienced city folk," commented one long-time resident and hunter. "They can get into trouble real easy. An' with no one there to help them, they can be as good as dead."

Townsfolk scoff at the notion that this pretty young college student was spirited away by wanton wee folk but, given the absence of evidence, it's as good an explanation as any.