I was in serious trouble. Yesterday, while fishing at the river, I had reached my hand into the murky waters after spotting a shiny rock. I immediately felt a sharp sting against the inside of my wrist and withdrew my arm to find a nasty set of bite marks on my skin. I barely caught sight of a pair of black eyes staring up at me before they disappeared into the watery depths. I feared I had been bitten by one of the vicious water spirits that have plagued this lake and the surrounding rivers for centuries. As told by the village elders, it would take only days for my body to succumb to the disease.
The village healer refused to see me, for fear that I was now marked with death. My family had promptly kicked me out of our home - their own son - because they believed the presence of the disease would result in bad fortune. There was only one thing left for me to do, dangerous though it may be.
About a day's walk from our village lived a witch in a small hut. Rumors had long spread that she was an abomination, a hideous creature, a cursed woman. There was a decent chance she would kidnap me and torture me for the remainder of my short lifespan. But I was running out of options. Perhaps she was the only one who could help me.
And so, I trekked across the valley in search of a cure. The hut was easy enough to find, as it was the only structure for miles. I noticed right away the absence of woodland creatures in these parts, making it clear who the predator was. I knocked on the door with a shaking hand.
I could tell that she had once been very beautiful. She was a full-figured woman dressed in a sheer black robe, thin enough that I could see very clearly her low-hanging breasts. A mane of black hair swirled around her pointed face. I was surprised by how young she looked -- no older than her mid-forties, thought that couldn't possibly be right. The stories about her had been circling through the northern villages for centuries. If I looked closely enough, I could spot the subtle signs of aging -- crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, leathery skin clinging to her neck and hands.
She appraised the bite marks with an expert eye. "It appears you've had a run-in with a particularly nasty type of water-spirit. The infection has already progressed. I'd say you're only days away from becoming a flesh-eating sea-monster yourself." Her tone was laced with an amusement that I did not appreciate.
"Can you treat it?" I asked desperately.
"I can. But the treatment will be physically taxing."
"I don't have much of a choice. I will take any treatment you have."
She shrugged. "Very well. Dragon eggs possess some of the strongest healing properties in the world. Based on the advanced stage of your condition, I believe five of them will do the trick."
I stared at her, confused. "What am I supposed to do with them? Do I have to swallow them?"
She smiled at me, but it was a wicked smile with sharp teeth. "The most effective treatment requires the eggs to be administered anally. They will need to remain inside you for twenty-four hours while the healing magic works its way through your system."
I swallowed hard. I'd never had anything up my rear before. I wanted to leave right then and there, but this seemed to be the only choice I had. I mentally prepared myself for the likelihood that this treatment would be very painful.
"This way, please," she instructed, leading me further into the lion's den, to a back room cluttered with various potions and vials and trinkets. A dozen candles burned throughout the space, the only source of light, which provided an ominous atmosphere for what was about to take place. A wooden bench sat in the middle of the room, one end higher than the other, like a seesaw. The witch pointed to it and said, "Remove your trousers and bend over."
I shuffled nervously on my feet, but did as she asked, dropping my pants to the floor. The cool air hit my bare backside and I shivered. As I climbed aboard the bench, I reminded myself that the alternative was death. The angle of the bench allowed my rear to be lifted higher than my head. I felt horribly exposed.
I felt a leather cuff around my ankle and bolted upright. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I need to restrain you, or else your movements will disrupt the process. Do as I say, or you can leave right now and face the disease alone."
Against my better judgement, I resumed my position on the bench and allowed the witch to shackle my ankles to the floor. She moved to do the same to my wrists, and I opened my mouth to protest, but paused at the sight of her raised brow.
I was now positioned on all fours over the bench, with my arms and legs restrained, and my ass in the air. My heart dropped as I realized the witch could have been lying about the treatment just to immobilize me. Had I walked right into her trap? I was paralyzed with fear.
