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.Corsicanthrax (and Forrestal)	By : keithcompany Category: M through R > Monty Python Views: 1911 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Monty Python, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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More Disclaimer: This work is my own. Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, ‘you gotta read this’ excerpts, the usual).
I tend to work with size-themed fiction, which includes overwhelming control issues and outrageous differences in scale. Such disparate sizes between partners is not for everyone, so be warned.
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Zoot was experimenting with the Corsican Mirrors when the Knight arrived. She found the case holding the two glass plates during one of her interminable punishments. Her identical twin sister, Dingo, enjoyed finding the slightest cause to send someone, especially Zoot, down in the dungeons to clean.
At first, Zoot couldn't understand why such expensive items as mirrors would be stowed away. The glass alone would cost as much as a holiday for two in Mercia!
She hauled the case up to her rooms and tried to decide where to use the mirrors. There was some writing on the outside but it had been made illegible by water stains and rat graffiti.
They were of a size, about four cubits tall and one wide. She leaned one against the wall and looked herself over. She enjoyed the image. Of course. The slight tilt gave her a look of greater stature. And the reflection was so clear!
Unfortunately, the unblurred image made it clear how dirty her dress had become in the dungeons. Well, there was nothing for it but to change. She started to undress. Then she smiled, stepped away from the dresser, and watched herself in the mirror.
She undressed as if for a lover… Which by now was a matter of imagination more than of memory, she thought with a sigh. Still, Zoot did enjoy a fine feminine figure and the one in the mirror qualified.
Just as she was down to her shift, she realized that she could see more than one fine figure in the mirror.
She stood the other mirror against the opposite wall of her bedroom. She angled it so that it would show her and her reflection in the first mirror. Then she slipped off the last layer.
"Oh, perfect," she said quietly. Over her shoulder was a fine, full shot of her derriere, while in front of her was… The same ass?
She glanced back and forth. Both mirrors showed the same side of her body. That wasn't how they were supposed to work, was it?
She could only see whatever was pointing at the first mirror. Zoot's hands touched herself here and there, but it wasn't as fun as she'd anticipated. The doubled reflection distracted her.
Maybe the second mirror was reflecting off the first? She moved it so that they both leaned on the same wall, right beside each other. Then they both showed her front.
That was better. She faced her two guests and cupped her breasts. They both showed her their wonderful endowments, too.
The one on the left was so beautiful, Zoot leaned in to give her a quick kiss. Her eyes half-closed, she and her new roommate touched lips gently and lovingly.
Then, to avoid jealousy, she moved to the second mirror to kiss the girl on her right. She wasn't there.
"What the hell?" she murmured.
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It took only a little experimentation to suss out the mirrors' function. One showed a reflection of what was before it. The other was as a magical window. It showed what the first mirror saw.
The possibilities struck Zoot like a morning espresso. She quickly dressed and carried the simple mirror across the hall to her bathroom.
Then she found two of her relatively loyal minions, Gwynnthia and Mongo. "Girls? I need your assistance. Quickly please!"
They followed her back to her bathroom and inside. She showed them the mirror and they were duly impressed.
"Very high quality glass, Mistress," Gwynnthia said.
"You can see every acne scar on Gwynnie," Mongo said with a nod.
"Yes, yes, I can see the quality," Zoot replied. "But how can I enjoy such a lavish mirror with…this?" She touched the standing tub with her toe. "I need you two to wash out my bathtub. Spend a lot of time on it, get it very clean. Very."
"Just the two of us, Mistress?" they both asked. "Oh, yes, Mistress. Yes, yes."
She left them to their task and returned to her bedroom. There was a brief detour to acquire a small cask of wine, then she was beside her bed, undressing while watching the activities in the other room.
Both girls were naked, of course. Mongo was talking. "And besides keeping our clothes from getting wet, baring our skin to the bath would help us detect dirt, tarnish or debris."
"You think we should get into the bath?" Gwynnthia asked.
"I think we must."
"As a duty to our Mistress."
"She would want us to be diligent."
"Oh, yes, I would," Zoot sighed. She started at Mongo's magnificent breasts, cupped her own and squeezed her nipples.
"Oh, yes, that's right," Mongo sighed as she sank into the soapy water. "Squeezed them like that!"
Gwynnthia, standing six feet away as she pulled another bucket of water off the fire, looked curiously over at the bathing maiden. "Squeeze what now?" she asked.
Zoot yanked her hands off of her bosom. Mongo moaned in dismay. Curious, she stared at Gwynnthia's carefully coiffed pussy hairs. Then she ran fingers down through her own crotch. Gwynnie sighed, then looked around strangely.
"Is there a ghost in the Castle?" she asked.
"If there is," Mongo said, "she's not helping me clean the Mistress' bath."
"True," Gwynnthia nodded. Zoot twisted her hands in the bedsheets to keep from interfering. She could always bring herself off later, with the memories. She'd just watch, for now, she decided.
She was wrong.
When the girls kissed, Zoot felt the tongue of whichever girl she concentrated on. When they touched, she experienced it as well. When they lapped away at each other, she could choose to experience what the giver tasted or what the receiver felt.
"Oh, my," she breathed. "This will be the most fun I've had since the Crusaders came through."
Thunder cracked outside her window. "Visitors?" she mused, loosening her hands. She hoped whoever it was came alone. Single travelers were almost always male, with all the possibilities of the gender. Then again, if they were women, they were usually trying to escape ravishers.
Amateur ravishers. Zoot and her peers would soon show them what ravishing truly was.
She rearranged her clothes and walked across to the bathing room. She rapped twice on the door and opened it. The girls scrambled to cover themselves in the suds. Zoot pretended not to notice.
"We have a visitor approaching," she said. "Prepare the guest room."
"The guest room?" they cheered happily. "Yes, ma'am, right away, ma'am, thank you, ma'am."
"Yes. Start a fire, prepare water for a bath." She tapped her chin, pretending to consider the options. "Ready…the small bath, I should think." She turned to leave. Another pause. She gestured airily at the mirror. "Oh, and set that up over the bed." Then she left.
She use a taper to light a rain-proof lantern and set out for the outer gate. She waited just inside the portcullis. Soon a figure staggered up to the side door and pounded upon it.
Zoot lifted the bar and opened the door. A tall knight stood outside. He wore a tabard surcote with a design she did not recognize. Well, she did not recognize it so wet and muddy as it was.
He bore no shield to help identify him, and she saw neither squire nor mount. She stepped back into the gate room to allow him to enter.
"Welcome to Castle Anthrax! We are eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between the ages of twenty three and a half and twenty seven. It has been many years since anyone visited this place, Sir…?"
"Spare me your boasts and blandishments, strumpet. I know who and what you are." He removed his helmet and glowered. His eyebrows were nearly as bushy as his beard. She saw no pity or humor in either dark brown eye.
"Then you have me at a disadvantage, good Sir Knight. May I have your name?"
"I am Von Grandis," he said roughly. "I am on a quest."
"Oooh, we love questing knights in Castle Anthrax." She backed through the room, leading her guest to the Keep. "What is the nature of your quest?"
"Arthur, King of the Britons," he boomed with his manly voice, "has personally charged me with reducing the threat Castle Anthrax poses for traveling knights."
Zoot paused and raised her lantern to illuminate his face as well as she could. He appeared to be perfectly serious.
"Well, shit," she replied.
His eyes widened a bit at the vulgarity. She shrugged and turned to climb the stairs. "All alone, you brave, brave man? One sword against eight score young blondes and brunettes? Not a page, a squire or a wench to wipe the gore from your sword every ten maidens?"
"I mean you no direct harm," he said. "I merely have to find a way to get you all to leave this site, for the safety of travelers."
"You might have noticed," she said, "that we're ten leagues from any major road works. The path from that lasts only four leagues, the trail beyond that another two. The last four you crossed were a trackless waste." She paused to look down at him. He looked back into her eyes without flinching. "It takes a significant amount of effort, and great care, to accidentally stumble upon Castle Anthrax."
"Be that as it may, jezebel, if only one young man's virtue is imperiled by the contents of Anthrax, it is two young men too many."
"Courtly math," she said, turning to climb again. "But still, you are alone, facing the survival instincts, and knitted lingerie, of one hundred and fifty women. King Arthur places great value on your virtue."
"I am cursed," he replied simply.
"Crap," she muttered. She half-turned to face him but continued climbing. "Permanent virginity? Lethal flux? Contagious consumption? What is the nature of your woman-spurning blight?"
"Any woman I have sex with shrinks," he said. She stopped walking.
"What?" Her hand unconsciously caressed her hips. "Are we talking about a carnal weight loss program?" She took a step down towards him. "Because there may be something we can work out."
"I mean," he said, retreating by one step, "that I angered a member of fairy nobility. In retribution for rejecting her attentions to preserve my virtue, she decreed that any woman I slept with would transform to match the size of the fae."
She stared. "All at once? Because that could become a bit of an issue, if you're not done."
"I have no idea!" he said, shocked. "I could not inflict such a fate on any woman. I have remained virtuous ever since that day."
"Huh," she replied. She turned and started climbing again, thinking quickly. The girls would have readied the guest room and manned the hall and gallery by now. There might be some fun in the situation, but how to control it?
She stopped again. He nearly crashed into her ass and took a step back down. "How long have you been celibate?"
"My entire life," he said. She looked him in the eye but didn't crack a smile. A virgin, by all the saints. My, how everyone at Camelot must tease him.
"And how long has your virtue been assisted by the curse?"
"Twenty years," he said. There was a bit less bravado in his voice. When she didn't laugh, he didn't know how to react.
"Is that, perhaps, Arthur's plan? To solve Anthrax and reward you?"
Zoot's question popped his arrogance like a balloon. "What do you mean?"
"Well, no man can resist the girls of Anthrax forever. For most knights, the lost virtue reduces their power, their status, their ability to finish quests. But look at this from Arthur's point of view. If you finish your quest and remain pure, he wins. If you lose your purity… Fairy-sized trollops pose no threat to any other knight's virtue. He wins again."
She turned to continue up the stairs. "Losing your virginity may be the best thing you can do for your liege."
It was a long moment before Von Grandis started climbing again.
Zoot swept into the guest room and started giving orders. Von Grandis paused in the doorway as nine girls rushed do her bidding.
"Gwynnthia, take Sir Von Grandis' surcote and have the initiates launder it. Mongo, Tercoise, Sirenna, take his armor. Have the apprentices scour and oil it. Sali, same for his weapons. Be sure there's not a spot of rust on anything. Leafsinger, take his underclothes once the armor's gone. Carborundum, fill the bath and tend the water. Ubastienne, tend the fire. Sawitcommin, turn down the big, wide, comfortable bed." She clapped her hands. "Chop, chop, girls! He's not getting any colder!"
"Yes, Mistress," they chorused.
"I'll leave you to their attentive attentions," she told the knight. He nodded slowly, jaw slightly askew. She walked slowly out and shut the door gently. She hadn't once glanced at the Corsican Mirror over the headboard.
Then she lifted her skirts and legged it for the stairs. Up two flights, down the hall, around the secret corner, down a short flight, up the ramp and she was in the gallery. Ten and four girls knelt on big pillows and gazed lovingly through the mesh screens to the room below. Mongo and her partners were easing the chainmail off. He put up only token resistance.
She entered and left once more, unnoticed by the smitten-kitten sorority.
Zoot lifted her skirts once more and ran for her room in the tower. The Mirror called urgently. But crossing the Rug Room, she slowed down and thought.
Just what, exactly, were the conditions of his curse? Words were very important, as was the mood and imagination of the fairy who cursed him.
Did she mean only those that actually had sex with the man would shrink? What of those that merely thought about him as they had sex?
"No," she murmured after a moment of thought. Even that oblivious hunk of man-candy would have noticed if the wenches and maids of Camelot started shrinking every time he was seen in bright light.
Any girl would at some time be thinking of him in her bed, alone or allowing the pages and grooms to slake their lusts upon her. So solo eroticism by memory was probably safe.
But while watching? What if the fairy intended that any woman getting satisfaction from milord Von Grandis be subject to her vengeance? The gallery might be in danger.
That gave her no pause, but the mirrors made her bedroom an interactive gallery. A little caution was called for. And experimentation. She turned and recovered her steps. "Oh, DINGO?" she called. "Guess what I found in the dungeon?"
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Carborundum had managed, by grace, guile and sheer determination, to be alone in the room with the knight. She knew the others were crowding the room behind the tapestry.
But as she poured another bucket of hot water into the tub, she really, really didn't care.
"Oh, milord," she cooed. "It's just too bad that we have only the small tub. It's sufficient for we maidens, but it must constrain you most unfairly."
"It's, uh, it's alright," he said. He was staring at the spots on her blouse that she'd carefully wetted while handling the bucket.
"No, no," she argued, replacing the bucket. "It constricts you horribly. You can hardly be expected to even wash yourself under these conditions."
"I, uh, I could stand," he said. He held the washcloth over his lap and made no move to stand.
"Or, I could help wash you," she offered. She rolled up her sleeves and reached for the cloth.
"I, uh, couldn't, um, ask you to do that," he protested. "You, you, you'd get your clothes all wet."
"Simple solution," she said and shucked her shift. She thought he was going to swallow his own face. She also thought the giggling was going to give the gallery away. Morons, they were going to ruin this.
She reached for the bar of soap and swished it around in the area between his ankles. A tiny bit of lather formed. She rubbed the bar over her belly. Over and over in slow circles. His gaze followed as if mesmerized.
When she was sufficiently soapy, Carborundum stepped into the tub. She bent her knees and rubbed the gentle curve of her lower belly up and down his chest. Then she moved side to side.
Her breasts dangled before his crossed eyes. She lifted his arms to wrap around her waist. "Hold me, or I'll fall," she whispered. He nodded. She stroked his arms with the tips of her fingers, gently scratching with her nails.
He grunted and worked up the nerve to gently kiss her between the breasts, down at the bottom of her sternum. "Oh, milord," she murmured. "You make my xyphoid an erogenous zone with your attentions."
"Huh?" he asked. She laughed and rubbed her boobs in his face.
"And you pretend humility to avoid overpowering me with your intellect. How wonderful!" He coughed a bit, nearly choking on his own drool.
She swept up a handful of suds off of his chest and spread it across her fingers. Kneeling by the tub, she reached down to move the cloth. This time he didn't resist. He was as long as her hand and as firm as a fire poker.
She circled him with her fingers and started to stroke. To her surprise, he grew even harder and longer. She pumped gently, not wanting to finish too soon. He was acting almost like a virgin, as if her touch was the very first time. If he truly was, she wanted him to remember this.
Carborundum raised herself off of her knees and kissed him on the lips. He returned the passion, if inexpertly. Well, there was plenty of time for him to learn. She nipped at his tongue and lips.
He was nearly as long as her forearm now. She used both hands to stretch the skin across his manhood, squeezing and slipping from top to bottom.
The edge of the tub started to bump her elbows so she stood up and bent over. That angle was awkward. "Just a second," she said so he wouldn't worry when she let go.
She released him and stood up straight. That allowed her to step over the rim of the tub, into the space between his leg and the side.
She kissed him again, biting down to dig her teeth into his lips ever so slightly. He moaned and kissed her entire face, sucking a bit too strongly for her comfort. "Careful, milord," she said. "You nearly removed my lips!"
"Sorry," he muttered.
"It's alright," she told him. She lay hands on either side of his chest and knelt to straddle his thigh. That put his private sword to her right, but she could still reach it with both hands.
She set to pumping again, starting slowly, then ramping up quickly. "You're so huge, milord," she teased. She scooted a bit forward on his leg to reach him more firmly.
His feet started to thrash in the water, little waves covering his knee and slapping her in the ass. She enjoyed the still-warm touch, but the wet spot got a bit cool when the water receded. She gave a little 'eep' of surprise.
The girl tried to scoot forward a bit more, but only one foot could reach the bottom of the tub. Between that foot and her hand on his penis, she ended up pushing herself off the thigh and into the water.
His purple helmet was out of her reach so she grabbed the base and hugged it tightly. Trying to climb up, her feet tickled his scrotum and he came. He roared, slapping the tub with his fists and kicking the water.
Carborundum rode through it only by virtue of her tight grip. His come surged out and plashed in the water behind her. The pulse of its passing pressed against her chest and arms, while his pubic hairs waved like tentacles in the currents of the waters and tickled her ass.
She screamed and came with him.
As the giant cock sagged, she lost her grip and floated for a moment in the gentling waters.
"So," Zoot said from somewhere far above her. "Not quite instantaneous." Carborundum looked up and screamed again. Not quite as happily, this time.
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.Corsicanthrax (and Forrestal)