Azalea found herself awake quite early the next morning. Too excited to sleep in, she instead spent the extra time making herself look presentable for her auction appointment. 

‘Hmm, what to wear?”

Jeni had told her before going to bed last night that she’d be expected to stand on stage during the proceedings so the buyers could assess the producer – her.

Flower dress or formal? Formal might be a little much. Flower dress it is! After today, I should be able to buy more. I wonder what Life-mate would like to see me in.

Throwing on her default flower dress, she grabbed her friendship plug and popped it in. 

Maybe I should start stretching today.

The rushing fairy opened her jewelry box-converted closet and pulled out all her dilators. Lots of sizes to choose from. Lets see, I have ten, total. First one seems kinda small to do any actual stretching. It might be good for a warm up. Number two would be a perfect fit, but it’s not gonna help me become roomier. Three will be a snug, and four might be after a long warm-up session, but it’d be visible and hard to hide in this outfit. Maybe I’ll save it for when I don’t need to move around much. The rest I’m definitely gonna have to work up towards.

She dreamily slid her hand across the tenth one – a perfect recreation of her life-mate’s penis in length and girth. She was impressed how well it captured all the details, from the vein placement to the wrinkles of his foreskin. 

Glad I put a lot of detail into that drawing to be used as a reference. Let's start with number three. In ya go!

She squatted down and inserted the dilator, but upon standing up, it fell out. On the second try, she attempted gripping with her muscles, but that had the same result.

Didn’t realize I was so weak down there! Though, come to think of it, I’ve never had to hold anything in myself before.

She was rummaging around in her bag when Jeni entered wearing her scholarly robes, minus the sash and other paraphernalia. Mistaking the dilators for dildos, the owl girl  asked, “Horny Azalea is feeling amorous this morning?”

“Not any more than usual. Just wanted to begin stretching myself for Life-mate. Why can’t I find… there it is!” Azalea held up a polished, spherical purple gem, with lighter white and violet swirls, that resembled a peeled grape.

Jeni cocked her head at the sight.

“It's flourite! Isn’t it pretty?” 

Not seeing the connection, Jeni queried, “Does little Azalea like collecting pretty rocks?”

Azalea giggled. “No, but I do like purple things. This is my coming-of-age gift. Its actual name is kinda dull, so I nicknamed it the love-hug ball.” 

Azalea hiked up her dress, pushed the orb snug against her cervix, and clenched down. “Helps strengthen my muscles down there. It’s a traditional gift given to fairy girls by their parents. Usually, it matches the color of our eyes.”

“A curious gift.”

“Getting filled by something or someone exceptionally large makes us loose. So we retighten our muscles by clamping down on this. I’m apparently not as strong as I’d like to be, even before getting stretched. I can’t hold my dilator in.”

“Do male fairies receive something as well?”

“An aneros.”

“This one is not familiar with that,” Jeni stated after a pause.

“It's a T-shaped thing with a bump on the end. I didn’t actually know how it worked till just recently when we visited Grandpa Gylan’s farm. I thought it just felt good in your butt, but I guess it pushes against a boy’s prostate.”

“And that is pleasurable?”

“The satyr I helped milk for your delivery definitely seemed to enjoy it. Now that I think back on it, I remember giving a handjob to a boy fairy once, and he had one in. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I kinda got him stuck in an orgasmic loop lasting way longer than normal. He came once, and that clenched his butt muscles, pushing the aneros against his prostate, making him cum again. That repeated till long after he had no more cum. Poor thing almost fainted from pleasure. I probably should have stopped pumping him and pulled it out, but it was the first time seeing a boy cum and I was entranced watching him jerk and spasm.”

Jeni searched her memory. “This one is not familiar with fairy customs. Does coming-of-age mark the beginning of fae adulthood?”

“Yes. It's different for Pixies and Leannan Sidhe, but for Fairies, it's a period of time starting when we turn eighteen. By then, we are fully grown but are unable to fly till we turn twenty – when our affinity manifests.  

“And before you say it, I know, those with affinity are rare, and that's true in the sense of quantity for crest and glyph usage, but all fae possess a minute amount we utilize in order to float. We can only stay airborne for a short time and are very clumsy. So for five years, we practice precision flying through obstacle courses till our affinic nature is fully developed.”

“Young Azalea was not frightened at not being able to fly?”

“No. We keep ourselves and villages well hidden, and we don’t leave them till we can. Anyway, we call that stretch of time our prurient years because, as you know, affinity has a strong connection to arousal. In our case, we become insatiably horny. To help us cope, our parents or an elder fairy gives us two gifts. The love-hug ball is the second, given at the end of the five years. 

“The first is…you know how catfolk use a scratching post when their claws are developing? We are given.. well, by we I mean the girls, boys are given something different, a nullastock. Think of a wooden stump with all kinds of different textures and edges carved into it of various human and demi-human penis shapes made from the branches. The whole thing is screwed to the inside of a wide, shallow bowl so we don’t make a mess. It's supposed to help us keep our hands off each other, or at least minimize it, though there are still plenty of fairies that mess around with each other.

“At twenty-five, our libido wanes and becomes less active, or is supposed to. It didn’t in me.” Azalea’s voice trailed off. 

Up to this point, she’d been talking very matter of factly. Jeni noticed her expression change but was oblivious to it meaning anything other than a pause for thought. Something pulled at her mind to ask, “Mature Azalea didn’t develop properly?”

“Not the way I was supposed to.”

“But healthy Azalea seems normal to this one.”

“Sure, on the outside, but I’m a nymph, Jeni – a hypersexual fairy.” 

“Is that not common among fae?”

“Not fairies, at least to this degree. I’m abnormal.” Azalea sighed. “I was able to start flying at eighteen, a full two years earlier than everyone else, and shortly after that, my pruriency manifested from a wet dream I had. I don’t remember what it was about, but sometime during the night I had stuffed a pillow between my legs. I must have been humping it because I awoke with it soaked.” 

“This one doesn’t think that is too unusual.”

“Maybe, but from then on, it felt like a fire was burning inside me, one that diminishes for a while after I orgasm but never fully goes out. It's a tiny bit better now, or maybe I'm more used to it, but back then, I had my fingers between my legs almost all the time when I was alone or when no one would notice. 

I quickly learned why we are given a nullastock. I got bored of fingering myself pretty quickly and was soon looking for other ways to pleasure myself. I particularly liked rubbing up against things: desk edges, door knobs, stair railings. 

I was too embarrassed to tell my mom about my situation, so I tried to keep my activities a secret, at least for two years. I was doing a good job till she surprised me one night while I was experimenting with a bedpost. I was just about to cum when she opened the door. I lost my balance and fell. Embarrassed and frustrated at having my orgasm ruined, I ended up telling her everything.”

“Maybe quick Azalea was just an early bloomer.”

“Mom said the same thing – that my situation was rare, but not unheard, especially for… for me in particular.”

To someone like her that had trouble reading social cues and difficulty in perceiving underlying subtext Jeni didn’t conceive Azalea’s abject fascination and enjoyment of pleasure was specific to her or an oddity among her people. She never gave any outward signs. Nor that it was a source of emotional discomfort if Azalea hadn’t said anything.

“Wanton Azalea doesn’t seem to mind exhibiting her desires.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I do but… sometimes I’m also scared. I don’t want people to not like me. That I’ll end up like…that, that part of me will take over, and I’ll hurt someone I care about.”

Jeni didn’t know what to make of her friend's revelation. Azalea was very easy to get along with due to her cheerful and carefree attitude. While she could be a little pushy, she tempered it by being hyper-aware of the other person's feelings. 

Unless there was still a reason Azalea had not divulged, from her perspective, Jeni categorized that as an unnecessary worry. Regardless, she felt happy her friend was comfortable enough sharing what she considered very intimate details about her life and self. 

Azalea turned away, silently thinking she had maybe she had rambled a little too much and that Jeni wouldn’t ask any further questions.

But Jeni’s overt inquisitiveness missed the cue. Her mind was actively trying to piece together whether Azalea's quickened maturation was due to her having enough affinity for crest usage or limited to just her lineage, or both. Azalea had specifically mentioned fairies, but she only offhandedly pointed out the other two fae types were different.

There was some debated contention among academics whether fae were offshoots from an earlier type of demi-human, or whether one of them was the trunk and the other the branches.

“If this one hadn’t been told, Azalea's demeanor could be mistaken for a pixie’s.”

“But I don’t want to be a pixie!” Azalea suddenly blurted out. 

Azalea slapped her hands over her mouth, as if she could take back the words she just spoke. Her eyes went big, contending with Jeni’s. She spun around again, aghast at what she just said.  “I mean… uhh… um, no! No, no, nononono!” 

Jeni tilted her head, confused at Azalea’s sudden panic.

Tears formed in the fairy's eyes. “You didn’t hear that! But you did. Just, uh, uh, forget what I said! No, it's not that easy! Please, please don’t tell anyone, Jeni!”

Jeni should have been more considerate of Azalea’s current emotional state but her mind was rushing to organize all the pieces of a puzzle; she wasn’t quite sure what the end picture was and voiced her thought process.

“Talking of only one’s mother, allusive Azalea’s personality and indication of mixed lineage would suggest her father is a…”

‘DON’T SAY IT!” Azalea screamed and flew within inches of Jeni’s face.

Jeni was taken aback.

Azalea instantly regretted yelling, backed away, and buried her face in her hands, ashamed for revealing her biggest secret.

Jeni’s confusion changed into perplexity. Azalea was obviously upset having unwittingly revealed she possessed both fairy and pixie blood, but why? It was quite common, especially among demi-humans. For some reason, it agitated her friend tremendously.

Jeni scooped up her distraught friend. Azalea tried to push her wing away but was very uncommitted to the effort. Hugging her close, Jeni didn’t say anything for a long while. 

Choosing her words carefully, “this one is not unaware that she is also different in many ways from others. While she has improved over the last several years, she still has much to improve upon. This one also has things she is not comfortable talking about. She will not say anything to others concerning what upset Azalea would not want her to say. And while this one does not understand the cause of Azalea’s distress, this one does not mind in the least what cute Azalea is or is not. She is this one’s friend, and this one is here if the want or need arises to talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry for shouting.” Azalea mumbled into Jeni’s feathers. “It's not something I like to talk about.”

“Does Young Patron know?”

“Of course not. It's not something I could change anyway.”

“This one is certain neither Young Patron nor understanding Reina would be bothered in the slightest either about such a thing.” 

After Azalea had calmed down, Jeni changed the subject. “Is little Azalea excited for today’s auction?”

Azalea wiped her eyes. “Equal parts excited and nervous. I’m not underdressed, right? I did fix up my hair a bit.” 

“It is fine.”

After grabbing a quick bite from the kitchen, she returned and asked, “Why are we leaving so early?” 

“This one may grow fatigued more quickly, due to the encumberment of her choice of heavier attire, and would like to make another assessment of her physical condition without the aid of updrafts.”

“I do enjoy the scenic route.” Azalea stood up and stretched her wings. “I’m ready when you are.”

The day was well underway in the city as the two weaved between plumes of late breakfast-scented smoke wafting from a forest of chimneys. They had not gone very far when Azalea noticed a considerable dip in altitude. 

“Are you alright, Jeni?”

“This one… needs to perch… Somewhere… and rest,” she panted. Choosing the closest roof, she alighted and sat down.

“This one did not realize how much difference the wind would make in conserving energy.”

Azalea rubbed her friend’s wing. “It does. You pretty much just need to steer. Flapping takes considerably more effort.”

“This one just needs a moment.”

Azalea peered around at their surroundings. She didn’t know where they were in the city, so she sauntered over to the edge of the roof and looked down. 

Despite the promise of indoor warmth, the coldest winter couldn’t curtail the activity of a population used to such a frigid environment, especially when a certain excitement was in the air. Shopkeepers, their apprentices, and anyone willing or able, were shoveling snow away from their store fronts, loading it onto long lines of transport sleds sluicing their way through the streets.

“What’s everyone doing with the snow?” asked Azalea.

“This is the yeartide of Ice and Frost.” 

“Yeartide?”

“A festival.”

“Festival?!” Chirped back excitedly.

“It’s an annual occurrence, originally created from the dislike of the city's inhabitants toward the accumulation of snow.”

“How so?”

“The task of transporting snow outside of the city is an arduous task. Instead, the city opted to make use of it for a week-long festival since it is more fun and outdoor entertainment is less prevalent this time of year. This one will show fun-loving Azalea.” 

Having caught her breath, Jeni took off, doubling back and steering west, following the line of people to the nearest plaza. Circling overhead, she explained, “the communities in each district form teams, and those teams each choose a leader. Sometimes they decide on a theme to represent their district, neighborhood, or street. This one appears to be run by the botany and horticulturist quarter. The theme seems to be something related to gardening.”

The ground was covered with long strips of polar grass, a resilient turf of pale green stalks with frost colored tips. Stone tile walkways, littered with people, meanded between sectioned-off areas containing snowy recreations of the many local flora found throughout the region. 

“The main draw are usually the ice carving competitions.” Jeni pointed to the far side. In front of a crowd of people were two teams of five working on different fountain designs, each with an erupting frozen plume of water. “Typically, the most experienced member relays orders to the other four.” 

“Hey, Jeni, is there a plaza near Whitegold?”

“There is.”

“Can we go see it?”

Jeni looked at the clock tower. “There is still time.”

Straightening their course from northeast to straight north, they flew over Sanna's bakery. Her shop was closed. Gertrude’s, on the other hand, was open. The elderly arachne was out front knocking icicles off the eaves. 

A little further on, Whitegold came into view. Azalea squinted. “I see some people. I wonder if Suvi is down there. Hmm, doesn’t look like it.”

In the courtyard, girls Azalea didn’t recognize were unloading foodstuff from a delivery wagon. While other’s, distracted from shoveling snow, threw snowballs at each other, despite Sable’s chastising.

Azalea wondered if this festival extended to all the districts, particularly the more titillating ones. Much to her delight, as they neared their destination, she saw it did. Her jaw dropped. “This plaza’s huge!” 

“This is the third largest because it is shared between the yellow, pink, and red zones. The only ones bigger are near the southern docks and the main northwest entrance.” Jeni responded while searching for an open spot to set down. 

Flocks of harpies were everywhere, perched next to each other on steeples and porches overlooking the commons. Their trilling conversation provided a chaotic yet melodic element over the din of the crowds.

Jeni spotted an opening over the main thoroughfare gate, next to a pair of cardinal harpies who acknowledged the two arrivals with a nod while continuing to sing to passers-by below. Other than black dresses, they were topless. Their lips were painted with ruby lipstick matching their striking plumage. Those who stopped to listen sometimes held up a coin, whereupon a donation box, tied to their talon was lowered. 

“Can you sing, Jeni?”

“This one does not think her voice produces sound that is appealing to listen to.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’d like to hear you someday,” Azalea chided.

“This one will consider it.”

From their high vantage point, they were able to view the entire plaza. It was separated into thirds with most the snow being piled around the perimeter into a makeshift wall. The rest went toward the middle where artisans had sculpted out three tunnels, lit with colored lanterns, to each of the tertiary sections’ activities. 

Since this was the more risque quarter, clothing was optional. Many in the crowd (namely humans) were bundled against the weather. The very few who were fully naked were mostly demi-humans not bothered by the cold. Those who had opted to go only topless seemed to be mainly engaged in some performance or managing food-related services. 

Azalea sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”

Jeni raised her wing to point. “Food vendors conjugate over there.” 

Steaming rotisserie’s full of the fragrance of many delicious-smelling items Azalea didn’t recognize, made her mouth water. 

“Wait, is that…! There's Sanna!“ She pointed and announced excitedly. Lending to the sumptuous aroma of the other stalls, the grizzly woman sat in the midst of a three-sided booth, behind a portable oven. On one side were bare, made-to-order cookies. Trays of freshly chopped fruit and palettes of syrups were on the other.

Wearing a honey-colored apron, and only an apron, garnished with bee girls and white clover print, She was hand-decorating customers’ requests. 

The ditzy girl, Hallie, wore the same. She was busily mixing and kneading dough for the next batch of pastries, her little bunny boobies lightly bouncing as she hopped back and forth between the oven and the table.

“Those look so good! I don’t have any money, though,” bemoaned Azalea. 

Jeni didn’t either. She didn’t think they’d need any. The cardinal harpies were still singing. The gathering crowd below had grown a tad larger and their positioning was inconvenient in front of the gate, so they had shifted closer to the side to avoid blocking traffic.

Jeni was thinking how she could fulfill Azalea's desire when a moth woman in a woven sweater with a wooly scarf of fluff around her neck held up a coin to her. Jeni tilted her head, visibly confused. She wasn’t part of the cardinal’s performance. Did this lady want to see her sing? The woman pointed to the cardinal harpies. With every clink of a coin offered in appreciation to their songs, they were additionally rewarded with a flashing glimpse of their cloaca.

Jeni was taken aback. Did she want to see her cloaca?!?

When the woman doubled the coins and held them higher in encouragement, Jeni furrowed her brow in consideration. This did provide an opportunity to get Azalea what she wanted. Azalea didn’t seem to know what to do either but indicated the decision was up to her. 

Jeni shrugged, separated her thighs and spread her lower feathers, giving the women a good long moment to ogle her birdhood. 

The coin holder smiled, and waved her appreciation. With no way to get the coin, Jeni held out her wings, wanting her to throw it. With a well-aimed toss, Jeni caught it and handed it to Azalea.

“You're giving it to me!?”

“Peckish Azalea wanted a sweet treat!”

“Are you sure?”

“Seeing cute Azalea happy brings this one satisfaction.”

“Thank you, Jeni!” She pounced on her friend’s shoulder and squeezed the edge of her wing tightly. With a call over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” she dashed away toward Sanna, taking her place in line.

Azalea’s smiling face made Jeni happy, inside at least. Her own face was as still expressionless and deadpan as usual. She wondered if she should try to show more outward expression.

While Jeni waited, she analyzed her recent actions. She occasionally desired to experience things to see what feelings they invoked in her, if any, in order to learn about herself. This most often happened without forethought of future repercussions such as when she was recently chastised for lack of safety. 

In that case, while unplanned, exposing herself for the first time in public didn’t seem to produce any strong feelings, one way or another, aside from giving a little satisfaction to the wants of the women and ultimately to Azalea. She wasn’t going to make a habit of it.

Shaking her out of her thoughts, Azalea returned with whip cream on her cheek as she stuffed her prize in her mouth. 

“Sanna made one for you too!” She handed Jeni a harpy-shaped cookie with white dollops of frosting at her feet. “It's a harpy in a spread-eagle pose. Laying eggs! Get it? ‘Cause she’s an eagle… anyway, Sanna says hi. She’s glad we got a chance to visit the festival!”

Jeni took a bite. “Gingerbread?”

“Yes, and it's the perfect texture!”

Somewhere near the other food stalls, a familiar voice rose above the crowd, shouting something about milk. 

Azalea rose above Jeni’s head. “Do you recognize that voice? I’ll be right back again!” 

Jeni watched her fairy friend dart away again through the crowds. Not far away, customers waited in front of Whitegold's stall. The base was a generic long, flatbed trailer modified with waist-high wheels, but the top portion was uniquely their own – painted in their iconic dual colors. Streamers with prices hung below their business’ logo.

Jeni refocused her pupils. Being in the category of carnivorous harpies, she possessed telescopic vision capable of seeing within the distance it takes a mouse girl to walk in half an hour, at night, with no more than a candle's worth of light. She didn’t use those capabilities often, but for situations like this, they were convenient.

The back half of the stall, on both sides, were set up as two cubicles, each with a horizontal rail looking out. Only one side was currently in use. The holstaur, Janina, and the older, quieter satyr sister, Hilja, were bent over, resting their elbows on the bar.  Together, they were being attended to by Kirsi and, surprisingly, Suvi.

The ratgirl’s small fingers were cautiously tugging Hilja’s drippy nipples, as if she was still unsure about the proper way to go about it. Hilja, for her part, was waving and happily chatting with people waiting along the trailer. 

Conversely, Kirsi was more confident. While all the actively lactating girls were busty (except for Kirsi), Janina was in a league of her own. Larger and stouter than the rest, the cowgirl's massive chest was leaking heavily. Gravity pooled her milk and all Kirsi needed to do was release it. With both nipples pressed together, one tug was enough to fill a bottle and make her bow her head in relief and pleasure from the reduced pressure.

From Jeni’s trips to market, she’d been informed, by those who capitalized on their body’s lactational bounty, that the accumulation of milk during the night tended to bring about sore breasts in need of emptying as soon as possible. Thus, early morning was the best time to get the richest milk and maybe an occasional discount.

Buzzing among the crowd was the younger, hyperactive satyr sister, Eija, and her short, stacked, goblin coworker, Truulté. Trays held by a strap around both the girl’s necks were laden with their weighty breasts placed front and center while surrounded by the freshly-collected milk bottles ready to sell to customers wanting a warm drink.

At the opposite side of the stall, a crowd much smaller was listening to the wolf-girl Eeva charismatically rejecting someone’s cautionary advice of eating yellow snow. Unofficial leader of the pee trio, she was animatedly charming the crowd to advertise a once-a-year special type of snow cone while stroking the back of her part-time deer-girl co-worker, Tuuli. 

The doe-girl stood by, facing away from the crowds with her tail held high. She wore a nonplussed expression but kept anxiously pawing at the wolf-girl’s tail, wanting her to hurry up while tightly clutching the hem of her own uniform as if in distress.

Amused, Eeve wrapped up her advertising and crouched down. With several bowls full of clean, fresh snow at the ready, she reached between Tuuli’s back legs and patted her bladder, signaling it was time to work.

Jeni expected a chaotic torrent with how much Tuuli appeared to stress about a full bladder, so she was stunned by the deer girl’s exhibited training. She squatted, releasing a controlled flow while Eeva passed bowl after bowl under the golden stream.

The sudden relaxation from the pressure made Tuuli a bit unsteady on her feet.

Eeva gave her a pat on her rump for a job well done and handed the snowcones off to a mouse girl Jeni didn’t know and had failed to notice before. The girl took them, adding fruit puree mixes to each one.

At that point, Azalea was at the front of the line conversing with a delighted Truulté. She couldn’t hear what they said, but at one point, they waved towards her, so she waved back.

With Azalea busy talking, Jeni glanced around at the independent art creations displayed everywhere. Many were phallic in nature but not all. There were busts with busts and a mix of humans and demi-humans in sexy poses or acrobatic copulatory positions.

This festival in particular was a favorite among sculptors and artists wanting to show off their talent and skill.

Jeni wondered how many of these displays were made from purely imagination versus an actual model. She recognized many of the statues and busts as some of the more notable citizens. Even the front gate she was sitting on was carved from a giant 5 meter block of ice to resemble a spread satyr vulva. A sign hung from the clit welcoming the visitors.

She was generally more impressed with the ice carvings over the snow ones. Not to belittle one over the other, but any mistake made in the snow carving process could be corrected by adding more and redoing it. The ones made of ice had to be done correctly from the start. The most masterfully created ones not only took details into account but also the difference in opaqueness. They were done in such a way that the cloudiness was used to create shading or illusion of extra depth.

“I’m back!” Azalea called out, struggling to transport a bottle of milk. “Sorry, I could only carry one. We can share it!”

As the two friends took turns sipping the warm, sweet beverage, they pointed here and there, commenting about this and that. At one point Azalea spotted Eitri and Avu, the goblin sex toy makers in another part of the plaza. Carved recreations of the playthings Azalea had seen in their store were on display on several tables. 

“Bubbly Azalea says that's where she got her friendship plug?”

“Yep.”

“This one wonders if they make a version for harpy anatomy.”

“I’m sure they could. They had some amazing things in their store – like that statue there of the goblin all folded up in a harness! Avu was demonstrating it while we were there.”

“This one does not see the purpose of such a device.”

“I don’t entirely, either, but it's kinda sexy the way her butt sticks out the back ready for use anytime.”

The city clocktower chimed. 

“We should probably get going,” the fairy suggested, lifting off from her perch.

“Little Azalea doesn’t want to stay longer? Thirty minutes more should still afford time to make it to the appointment.”

“I would, but I want to spend as much spare time as we can having you fly and get stronger, so you can show Life-mate how serious you are.”

—-----

By the time they landed at the front entrance, Jeni was worn out again. 

They were two minutes early. Roddy was waiting for them on the top step. “Good, good. We like punctuality. You’ll be number three on the docket.” Roddy ushered them down a hallway with many doors interspersed with portraits of serious-looking men and women. 

“These are where we hold private auctions for members. The big public ones for non-members happen elsewhere. Here we are; Room D. I will be taking my leave. Please wait in here, and one of the assistants will be available soon should you have any questions.”

The waiting room was furnished with lavish murals on the wall commemorating past auctions’ record-breaking sales. Across the heated-floor room was a sliding door. Behind it emanated the muffled but distinct, short, and rapid chant of an auctioneer.

The room was spacious with cushioned bench seating along the entire perimeter. In the center of the room were four chairs, arranged back to back. 

Very fashionably dressed, more for a ball than an auction, a heavyset sheep woman was checking her complexion in a hand mirror. Her hair was done up and pleated around her stubby horns. Jewelry tinkled as she shook her head disapprovingly, especially the gems -encrusting a wire bra that was holding up the most massive chest Azalea had ever ever seen on a non-holstaur. The bra peeked out from a thick, crimson robe with a white trim. Despite the snapdragon-shaped nipple clamps securing them, milk discolored the bra around her distended nipples.

Beside her, spools of golden wool so fine they almost glistened were carefully packed into a basket next to four large bottles of milk.

She seemed displeased. She huffed, “Honestly, you could have done this before we arrived. I can’t stand unpreparedness!”

Next to her stood a chagrined satyr, partially erect, receiving a handjob.

“Oh good, someone to… oh…” she sighed when she didn’t recognize the new guests.

“I’m sorry we weren’t who you were expecting Mrs…” Azalea began.

“Seaton, Isadora Seaton – number one quality wool producer in the city.”

“You are!?! Amazing! My name’s Azalea Ebonplume, life-mate to a, um, a wholesale merchant.”

“Charmed. I regret you had to see me performing such a low brow-task. My employee didn’t come with an auction sample. Ill-preparedness is something borderline unforgivable. It reflects poorly on me. To make matters worse, this lazy cock refuses to get fully hard.” 

She slapped the floppy member, drawing a wince from the satyr. Azalea floated closer. “May I make a suggestion? How about a slightly alternate approach.. Sometimes, there is a proper way of doing these kinds of things.” 

“Go on?”

“Try giving your full attention.” 

The sheep woman haughtily looked down, rolled her eyes, and gave a long sigh. Then she turned in her chair and set her attention upon her task. 

“Cup his balls with one hand and now slow, long, gentle strokes up and down. There, keep that up, and I'll do the rest.” Azalea came up to eye level with the satyr. Motioning to his shoulder, she inquired, “Hello, would you mind if I sit here?”

He shook his head.

“What's your name?”

“Harald Hallison.”

“First time putting something up for auction?” 

He nodded, unsure how to react to this fairy’s attempt at conversation while he was receiving a handjob.

“Me too. I’m barely keeping the jitters under control. You have a handsome penis.” 

“Th…thanks.”

“And your balls are impressively big! Miss Seaton’s hand must feel amazing. She has good technique.”

“Of course I do. I’ve never failed to make my employees give up their seed – till now.”

Azalea ignored her. “I bet you’ve fantasized about shoving your cock between those majestic breasts, warm and wet with your pre-cum.” 

Azalea barely held back a smile upon witnessing his penis twitch and grow. 

“Close your eyes and imagine her on the ground, between your knees.”  

“I would never!” Isadora retorted.

“Sssh, I’m helping him imagine it, so you don’t have to actually do it.”

Azalea held her hand out as if directing the scene. “She’s tucking her hair behind her ear and looking up at you with encouraging eyes while her full lips wrap around your cockhead, suckling greedily, slowly feeding more of you down her mouth until you feel that familiar pressure start to well up inside until finally you…”

The satyr male bucked twice. The first load splashed across his boss's neck. The second got aimed into a collection vial.

“First unprepared and now messy; such a hopeless employee,” she chastened. Despite her critical words, her tone and posture were softer, implying she was more pleased than she let on. “What would you do without me to help you utilize your rich seed for investment purposes. Here. I can't have you soiling your clothes.” She licked the tip clean.

“A nice pearl necklace to match your other jewelry,” Azalea giggled at the sight.

“Hmm, that is one way to look at it. It does glisten with the rest. Maybe I'll keep it on till after the auction.”

From the sliding door, a young human man entered, dressed in a tight-fitting black leather vest with ruffled white undershirt. A wax tablet was enveloped under his arm and a silver platter balanced in his hand. “Number #2643 and #2644.”

“Just in time. If you’ll excuse me?”

The sheep woman excused herself and strutted out of the waiting room with the attendant gathering up the sheep women's and the satyr’s items onto the tray.

“Thank you,” said the relieved satyr.

Azalea patted him on the shoulder. “You're welcome. Sometimes you just need the right elements to put you in the mood.”

He lightly wrung his hands. “She’s a bit arrogant and strict, but she genuinely cares for us workers; gives anyone who needs one a handjob. Claims the post nut clarity boosts productivity. I got nervous because she chose a newcomer like me as a donor. All the other guys said how amazing her touch was, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Performance anxiety will do that,” Azalea chirped.

Azalea waved bye after the goatman as he hurried to follow the others out to the hall.

The attendant returned, this time from the front door, making Azalea wonder how he got there. “Miss Ebonplume, I presume.”

“That's me!”

“I’m Thormar Varsson, ringman to the auctioneer. I act as an assistant, spotting bids and communicating essential information as well as sometimes filling in if the auctioneer’s voice becomes too hoarse.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I have your items right here.” In his arms was a different tray, black with gold trim, and Azalea’s bottles were neatly presented. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”

“Um, what will I have to do, exactly?”

“Is enterprising Azalea nervous?” the previously silent Jeni remarked.

“A little.”

The ringman’s tone became a little more soothing. “There’s nothing to be worried about. You’ll simply be standing next to your product while the auctioneer introduces you and reads off the item's information. I’ll be taking the sample you brought around the audience so they can have a small taste to help their decision-making, and then the bidding will start.”

“Ok. Sounds easy.”

There was a loud thack as the preceding auction concluded. “Sounds like they are done. When you are ready, if you would please, stand here, and I'll take you out.”

“This one will be watching from the audience.”

“Ok, Jeni.” Azalea landed on the platter, smoothing her dress and checking her hair before being whisked out onto the stage. 

Azalea was very good around crowds. The number of people didn’t bother her, but having little to no influence on the success of a high sale weighed in the back of her mind.

Many in the crowd were talking amongst themselves. Others were boredly slumped in their chairs waiting for the next showing. Azalea didn’t know what the atmosphere was usually like for something like this, but as she appeared on stage, many suddenly sat up with open and obvious curiosity.

The young ringman set Azalea’s platter down on the lectern. He called out, “If everyone here would please find a seat, the next auction will begin momentarily.”

As the attendant left, the auctioneer took his place. He was an older human man with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-manicured beard. Seasoned and advanced in years, he exuded experience and surety about himself. Azalea was more than used to everything being bigger than her, but this particular gentleman had a certain presence about him that seemed imposing as he loomed above her. He wasn’t overly friendly, but he did look down at her and give a courteous nod. 

He took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “The auction for items number #2645 and #2646 will begin now,” boomed the auctioneer, his voice deep and gravely. “For those still here, we are glad you decided to stay with us, and for all the new folk, we say, welcome! You have joined us at an opportune time. The next two items are sure to be a treat as they are rarely ever seen passing through these halls.”

He motioned to the two bottles. “We have two affinity-replenishing tinctures: fairy essence and fairy nectar produced by Mrs. Azalea Ebonplume. She is of twenty-seven tender years and recently moved here to Thawdenn from the northern midland forests.”

All eyes shifted to Azalea. She was told she didn’t need to do anything, but she felt compelled to do something, if only for the purpose of calming her nerves. She did a slow spin, careful not to make her dress rise up. It was as cute a curtsey as she could muster.

“As per custom, we will be providing a small sample for you to help make your decision, though by the excitement in many of your eyes, it will likely be unneeded.”

Quiet laughter echoed through the audience.

Thormar and another assistant moved between the rows of people. They had divvied up Azalea's sample and were applying a small drop on each of the willing bidders’ tongues with a pipette.

The reactions varied greatly throughout the mixed audience. From Azalea’s guesstimated observation: female demi-humans seemed to prefer her nectar, human women her essence, and male humans and demi-humans appeared split.

Jeni was in the back corner. Her wide eyes surveying the proceedings.

Soft murmuring that had ramped up faded as the auctioneer held up his hands. “Taking into account the current market price for affinity-rejuvenating goods, the rarity of her kind and her speciality yellow grade, we will start the bid at fifty silver pollis.”

The bidding started amicably enough, but as the price climbed, a fierce battle erupted. Many people dropped out until the bidding was down to five persons, then four, then three. A three-way battle ensued as each individual raised the price in tiny increments, hoping the others would drop out. Eventually, one of the three tapped out, leaving the two finalists in an exciting back-and-forth, doing their best to flex their financial muscle. With a grimace and a final bid, one of them was left as the winner.

“Quite the show that was, but not to worry! Here is your second chance to take home Mrs Ebonplume’s rich affinity!”

The game restarted with a flurry of callouts and anticipatory monetary raises. 

As a member of the fae race, Azalea appreciated the bartering and sharing that were the staple of her own kind’s economy. She knew and understood the concept of money, of course, but still found it a peculiar system of exchange. 

The excitement of the moment made Azalea completely forget her nervousness and composure. It didn’t matter who was ahead; she was animatedly cheering and encouraging everyone still battling it out, eliciting smiles from the audience.

In the end, though, there could only be one victor. Following a final flurry of bids, the last one raised the price by double, ousting the rest.

“Any other takes? Going once! Going twice! Sold to the woman in the green dress! Congratulations. Please go to the front desk to collect your purchase. Until tomorrow, have a good day.”

Azalea let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Mr. Ringmen came and took her back to the back waiting room. “Please wait here, and I'll be right back.”

Jeni entered a few minutes later. “Congratulations to prosperous Azalea.” She raised her wings in an excited post, comically juxtaposed to her flat tone.

“Thank you, Jeni! I had no idea how that was gonna go! Is it always like that?”

“This one has only attended two auctions before. This one was especially boisterous.”

“I guess we can go after Mr. Varsson gets back. He said to wait here.”

As they discussed the other aspects they both enjoyed of the experience, the ringman appeared with a hefty bag of coins. “Please read over this bill of sale.” He handed each of the girls a rolled up parchment. 

After emptying the sack onto a table, he swiftly stacked the contents into three neat piles. “20 copper vols, 2 silver pollis, and 1 gold sequins as per the auctioned price, minus the auctioneer staking fee. Please confirm the amount and sign the receipt.”

Azalea deferred to Jeni, having no idea how much which was what.

“This one confirmed the stated amount is accurate.”

Azalea signed the receipt with Jeni as co-signer.

“Jeni,” Azalea whispered something in Jeni’s ear. Jeni, in turn, counted out several coins.

“I want you to have this as thanks for being so helpful and making this experience less scary.”

“Young Missus is too generous.” Shifting out of his professional demeanor, he continued, “I personally want to thank you for today. Things get a little mundane around here with the sale of the same old commodities. I… we hope you’ll sincerely consider us should you desire to make another sale.”

“I can’t say exactly when, but I’ll be lactating soon and would appreciate your services again when the time comes.”

“We will strive to meet your expectations. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.” With a bow, he left the room.

“Hey Jeni, since I have spending money now, shall we celebrate our success by going to Sanna’s for lunch?”

“This one would like that.”

Gathering everything once more into the sack, the two girls left.