Alpine Hideaway Magic Ch. 06

The explosions of the lightning bolts and the deafening crash of thunder accompanying each one had finally dissolved the spirit and cohesion of the men below on the meadow! They were completely demoralized and any sense of order that they possessed melted like a snowflake upon a hot stove! Men began to run in every direction attempting to get out of the way of multiple strikes of lightning created by myself, my tante, and dear old Oma! They then abandoned the field, seeking the safety of lower ground and with great speed!

I looked over at my Tante who had rolled over onto her ass. She was sitting on the dead leaves and wet grass furiously frigging her clitoris screaming SPRITZ BLITZ, SPRITZ BLITZ; her face a twisted mask of rage and lust as she brought herself to a new orgasm! Oma was still shaking and bawling and I was still cumming, plastering my grandmother's colon in a wicked internal whitewash, the explosions in my cock making me thrash my head like a madman from the intense pleasure! Foam flew from my mouth and landed in a great splash of spittle in the middle of the tattoos on my grandmother's back. More bolts flew! Only one figure in the meadow below tried to stand his ground - but it would not be for long!

The officer tried to restore order, waving his hands and shouting to the men but to no avail as they streamed past him. The soldiers were now intent on making the slope and getting to the valley floor below. Another flash of heat and light raced out of the clouds from up above the mountain and a bolt of lightning struck the ground directly behind the leader!

With that, he made like a bolt and hurried across the field. He was so intent now at saving his skin that in his terror he dropped his binoculars. He ran for several steps and then realizing they were not in his possession, he ran back and seized them up from the grass before he then whirled around. He dashed after his men; desperately in need to catch up with the others as he WAS after all, THEIR LEADER!

I pulled my cock from Oma's gaping rectum and we both swayed unsteadily on post orgasmic legs. My semen ran from her completely shell-shocked and wide open rectum. It was like somebody had opened a can of condensed milk and poured forth the contents down upon the ground! As I extended my hand to my aunt and helped her to her feet. I then turned and saw the troops now running across the lip of the meadow with their leader in hot pursuit. It was hilarious!

The three of us laughed and guffawed uncontrollably at the edge of the woods as the last helmeted head disappeared down over the slope. We then spilled out of the forest and onto the meadow floor. It was several minutes before we stopped chuckling. I didn't know that being an enchanted person could be so much fun!

"They won't be back up this mountain today," Oma Chuckled thoughtfully as she lay on her back, puffing the pipe, "but we should perhaps get up this mountain to the hut. I very much want to not burn up the whole day on this slope and I certainly don't wish to chase sheep in the dark!" Tante Margarite and I nodded as we rose to our feet, knowing with consolation that if the Americans returned we could be ready with our own magical artillery courtesy of the clouds and a little bullweed! We got moving again.

We pushed the flock of sheep onward up the slope and paused for a brief time at the next mountain meadow. There we gathered more of the wickedly powerful mushrooms from the secret grove the three of us had discovered the day before. Oma filled another few handfuls of them into her enchanted sack. Tante Margarite pulled up several and sniffed them; looking for particularly pungent specimens.

After a few minutes my auntie found one of particularly strong olfactory capabilities and she had me rub it up and down my body and sweat limbs before she then took it from me. Upon braking it in two, she had me stand with my arms up high like I was surrendering. My aunt rubbed the two halves against my armpits and then had me drop my arms and hold the halves in place with my fingertips; allowing sweat and Mother Nature do the rest as we set of up the southeast pass with the sheep. We walked on.

We made the pass an hour later and passed between ancient house sized boulders amid the grass and meadow flowers. The sun was now working a magic of its own as it baked and bronzed us. Oma and Margarite now began to become increasingly agitated, but in a good way!

Both women were rushing around smelling wild flowers and commenting about how radiant the sun was on the land and how the mountains with their high snow fields towering above us were particularly beautiful that day! It was then I realized that in addition to the bullweed pipe they had been chewing the mushrooms.

The plan of the two witches was to absorb as much the strange properties of the fungus as possible in the shortest time. Now Oma strode up to me with a handful of mushrooms in her hand. She thrust them into my face and issued a request,

"Take these and break them in half then shove them up inside my cunt!" with that she turned around, bent forward at the waist and pulled her fesses wide to expose the opening to her pink entrance! Tante Margarite skipped gleefully up to us and shouted, "Me too! Me too!"

I did as I was told. I broke the fungus in half as the two cackling women laughed and told bawdy jokes while bent at the waist; facing away from me and passing the bullweed pipe and chewing bits of mushrooms. Their tattoos rippled and depicted the lewd scenes from their filthy stories!

I shoved an equal quantity of mushrooms up each woman's cunthole and then the two straightened up erect. Their faces now etched even deeper with the power of the fungus. Between the pipe, the mushrooms in their cheeks, and those up inside their quims - the combined effect had put them in a state of giddy Euphoria!

In between laughing maniacally and rubbing her clitty like she had a mosquito bite "down there" my grandmother told me she and Tante were preparing a special potion and using their own cunnies as incubators for it but the need to keep juicing. As she and my aunt walked, skipped, and danced along, they masturbated themselves and each other into a bothered happy frenzy of sexual agitation! I believe ten years later in the 1950s you Americans would have said that they were "high!" I just knew it was all I could do to keep them and the sheep moving, and I wasn't completely certain where we were going!

I also had been walking along trying to keep those silly mushrooms under my arms and feeling absolutely ridiculous. Oma saw my plight and cast a spell making the fungus stick up inside my armpits. I could now stop trying to hold them in place with my fingertips and just walk at a normal pace.

Forty minutes later and we through the pass and another two hours later and we were on the southeastern slopes of the mountain. By this time the effect of bullweed and intense dosages of the mushrooms had reduced my tante and oma to giddy impish lunatics. Both women skipped and danced and ran around through the sheep and flowers like little silly school girls!

Tante then stopped her meadow dance and stepped over to me like some mountain pixie and motioned Oma to do the same. The two women now scrutinized me the way they would a pot of soup on a stove. They looked very serious for a moment and furrowed their brows until the serious nature of their faces forced them both to break up laughing as both found the stern contemplative face of the other particularly worthy of a snort and a belly laugh!

"Are they ready," Tante Margarite asked Oma in between snorts and giggles, "the lovely little sweat truffles under his arms?"

"Let's see," said Oma. She held out her hand while giggling at some unknown but obviously hilarious joke known but to her, and I placed the now fully fouled fungus in her fingers. She raised it to her nose and sniffed, looking up at her eyebrows thinking hard but still giggling. After a moment she shook her head,

"No, not quite but it will make a nice strong potion by the time we reach the hut!" She laughed and took both mushroom halves, placing them away in her magical sack. We were making good time but the sun was getting far across the sky and we would need to get to our destination before it sank behind the mountains. We continued on despite our progress being slowed by the two crazy women who were still skipping along, telling bawdy jokes, and wandering around in blissful silliness!

We started up a gradual slope for about a kilometer with the flock. We then picked up a mountain trail, worn down by countless alpine trekkers and moved into a high long green meadow. Above us, ridges capped with snow rose to either side like walls; forming a bowl beneath the mountain's snow fields and peak.

Below the snow fields were thick woods of pine that ringed the bowl. It was all very surreal and beautiful! The warm green meadow with its sharp upslope covered with lush grasses and brilliant alpine flowers stood in stark contrast to the frigid snow fields above.

A mountain brook bubbled and gushed forth; running out of the woods beneath the peak. It bisected the middle of the meadow in a lazy zig zag and then finally ran alongside the trail that we were moving along. To one side of the flowing water, about halfway to the tree line from us I saw steaming mud flats that dumped into the stream. Halfway to the hot spring and in the middle of the meadow lay our destination, the shepherd's hut!

As we approached the hut I saw that a large sheep pen lay to the southeast corner of the dwelling. It was partially covered on one side with a roof above a feeding manger. Next to the pen's gate was a small tool storage area. The hut itself was rough and made from local wood. It had two stories with small windows on both levels and the upper floor boasted a balcony that looked out back across the meadow to the southeast and beyond. It all looked like a charming little alpine cabin.

It was slightly crooked (to include its crooked chimney) but it was wonderfully decorated with its red and green painted shutters with carved hearts in their centers. There were actually quite a few carved and stylized surfaces along the outside of the cabin. Wooden squirrels climbed heavy beams with carved acorns in their mouths. A carved wooden owl surveyed the landscape from up on the balcony. The balcony itself was rather large by most standards and had two stout tree trunk columns holding it up. I could see that it formed a sort of elevated patio with a view of the sheep pen and the entrance to the meadow.

I guessed that it had taken a talented wood carver many hours of painstaking work on the balcony and the overall dwelling. Countless other birds, animals, and butterflies adorned the wooden structures and supports of the otherwise simple cabin. It was very quaint. It also looked a bit cramped for three people.

Oma had me run ahead and make certain the gate to the sheep's pen was open. I then ran back to assist Oma and Tante Margarite as they drove both flocks into the enclosure. After putting the sheep up for the night Oma retrieved the tiny poultry coop from the sack.

She set it on the ground, tapped it with her wand, and the coop stretched and grew. In a few seconds it was back to its original dimensions; full of squawking ducks, chickens, and geese all impatient to get out in the open air! Oma opened the latch to the pen and then all the foul sprang forth, clucking and squawking and carrying on with a bluster of feathers and commotion. The chickens strutted off into the grass looking for bugs, the ducks and geese waddled off to the stream for a much needed swim. All looked happy that the trip was at an end, and we shared their enthusiasm!

Lastly, the three of us went around to the front door to the cabin. Oma fetched a key from the sack, unlocked the door and pushed it open; stepping out of the way facing me. She puffed herself with pride saying,

"Your palace awaits!" She looked like a doorman to a fancy hotel the way she stood up ramrod straight to the side of the entrance. I poked my head in through the door and then stepped back and looked at Oma saying,

"Are you sure the three of us will fit in here?" Oma pushed me out of the way and looked into the hut to see for herself what I was talking about. She saw the cramped living area, the tiny roughhewn table and two simple stools. She saw the rickety ladder going up to the loft above. She saw the dilapidated old stove rusting away in the corner and she saw the small cot, littered with field mouse droppings. She made a face and pushed me out of the way of the door shutting it again and explaining to me,

"Sometimes the spell doesn't hold if the witch is away for too long! I haven't been up here since August of last year!" She locked the door and then held the key tightly in her hand speaking in her ancient and arcane tongue with her eyes closed.

She took Tante Margarite's hand and the two women repeated the strange phrases over and over for a minute. Oma then held the key up to the sun and inspected it. I could see that what had once been a rusty bit of iron was now clean metal and what's more...it shimmered and with multiple dancing specs of color in the sunlight with little sparks flying away from it!

Oma now tapped the door with the key. The sparkles and color transferred from the key to the wood of the door and then the wood of the doorway became awash in color and sparks before seemingly dissolving inside the structure. Oma then looked up at the hut like she were addressing its very frame, its beams, its rafters as she said,

"House upon the mountain, I have returned! Rouse yourself from your sleep!" With that she opened the door and the three of us stepped inside. I was shocked by what I beheld!

Where there had been a tiny living space big enough for one shepherd who wasn't too fat or too obsessed with cleanliness, there now was an enormous first floor! A large fireplace of stone stood in one corner, a beautiful cast iron stove stood where the dilapidated one had! The remainder of the house was furnished opulently by comparison to the previous example and after we ascended the stairs to the overhead bedroom, the luxuriously cozy sleeping conditions didn't disappoint either! A large feather bed next to an enormous dresser faced the window with its cheery balcony.

I was perplexed but happy. Oma could see the look upon my face and explained as best she could to me. She told me that this is a very powerful spell that an ancestor had originally set on the hut. It was a little like a clock but it had to be reset or the interior would return to its shabby condition. The magic altered the space inside the dwelling much in the way that space and other dimensions such as that of time could be... then she stopped, seeing that I was staring at her and her explanation like a pig looking at a wrist watch!

"Well," Oma said as my Tante chuckled behind her shoulder at me, "maybe some other time when you are better rested and we have all had less of THIS pipe!" She waved the pipe around and seeing it was empty, plugged it with a bit more bullweed from a cabinet above the stove. She then looked at the stove itself as she lit the pipe and exclaimed,

"Oh that reminds me! Margarite, let's get a fire going and get ourselves empty of these mushrooms!" Tante agreed it was time. She built a fire in the stove and I helped Oma gather water from the stream outside in the meadow.

Both women sat on the floor facing each other, a basket beside them while I watched. The two wise women took turns reaching inside each other and plucking the strange fungus out and dropping them the pot of water. First Oma turned and faced away from my aunt on all fours with her ass high in the air and her head down.

My Tante Margarite carefully reached inside her mother and plucked one mushroom after another from her cunny hole. The mushrooms had made both women extremely randy and lusty so they made a particularly lewd sight; my grandmother OOHHing and AHHHing with a wicked smile on her face as she sashayed her hips around against her daughter's probing touch. Then it was my aunt's turn and she spun around, and thrust her ass high for her mother's plucking fingertips. My grandmother soon emptied my aunt of all the fungus up her fanny but not without my Tante Margarite giving the same lusty lunges and grinds against her mother's hands that my Oma had given her!

The slimy mushrooms (marinated already in cunny juices of the two women), were then moved up to the stove and dumped in a boiling pot of water. Tante Margarite then retrieved from the sack the two fungi that I had fouled with the sweat of my armpits on the long trek up the mountain. She gave them both a good strong whiff that made her eyes cross and her breathing to become momentarily heavy -like she had just stepped up them mountain again. Her hand absent mindedly found her crotch and bothered her salmon petals as she dropped the two mushrooms in to the mix. Oma rooted around in the sack and started placing spices and herbs up onto shelfs. She snatched a few pinches of dried this and desiccated that and then ground them up with a mortar and pestle on the counter before tossing the contents into the brew.

Tante Margarite and Oma took turns stirring the pot and putting away necessary odds and ends up into the shelves and cupboards. From time to time they would sniff the stewing mess which to me smelled almost as nasty as the foul glop we had made at the farm the day before when we had to save a family from food poisoning. I decided that whatever the concoction was; it was an acquired taste. This did not stop the two women as my oma and tante would take in great lungful's of the steam and then run over and smell my neck and chest, only to then go cross-eyed and dash back to the pot; stirring both the ladle and their own juicing quims!

I finally asked Oma what she was making. She explained that it was a special potion that had a certain "endurance effect" on any "patient" who took of it. She the fetched a small steeping pouch from the shelf and began filling it with assorted grains from some of the many jars situated around her. She tossed in the bag and kept stirring. After several minutes she had Tante Margarite crush up some dried hops flowers and some honey from the shelf into the mix. I now knew what the foul stink was and I what's more, I knew what this potion was as well. Oma and Tante were making beer from the mushrooms!

It made a little more sense to me now. Truth be told, anything concerning beer to me makes sense but perhaps that is another discussion for another day. Oma stirred for a few minutes more and then she pushed the bubbling cauldron to the far end of the stove to allow for cooling and she dropped a few more hops in for aroma which filled the entire hut with the strong smell. We opened windows and even propped the door open to the house but only wind and time were going to get rid of the smell.

"Well," said Oma, "no use sitting in this hut. We have a few hours of sun left before it is gone behind the peaks and it becomes cool outside. Margarite, what do you say we show your nephew the mud springs up in the meadow?"

"Ja Mutti," my aunt replied, "a good idea! We both are particularly full of energy and mischief and could use a bit of RELEASE with this fine young morsel!" she eyed me with a bit of a randy leer and I could tell that whatever it was up rattling around in her head concerning the steaming mud, it was no good!

We were out the door and across the field before I knew it. The two excited women dragged me by the hand, through the grass and the flowers and across the stream that bisected the meadow. As we approached the stream, my oma pushed ahead of us and waded knee deep through the rushing water while I held back on the shore with my aunt.