                        Raising unicorns
                         An Erotic Story

     Sometimes raising unicorns can be a sad thing.  Others, it's 
a great delight.  Like so many methods of making a living though, 
it's not something that you can pick to do ... no matter how 
well-suited to the job you might be, or how well you might like 
the thought of doing such things.  You have to be born into it.
     Like me and my four sisters were.  Daddy was born the son of 
a unicorn-raiser, so his daughters naturally grew up to raise 
unicorns.  That's about the *only* way to get into the "business" 
if you can call it that.
     Like most people out here in the Western Woods, most of what 
we eat, drink, and wear is what we raise ourselves.  No bakery to 
buy bread from, clothier to buy what we wear from, no grocer to 
buy vegetables from.  We plant our own garden, raise our own 
sheep, chickens, and pigs (but not cows like some do).  A goat 
provides extra milk, and in most things we make our own clothing.  
It's a simple life, and not always easy ... but we don't have to 
worry about many things that city-folks do either.
     However, (also like most people around here) some things we 
do better than others.  Mike the smith, for example, makes simple 
things of metal that we need ... pins, hinges, even pans.  He 
doesn't do it *ALL* the time, like blacksmiths in larger towns 
do; but he can still shoe the occasional horse that the King's 
Men ride through on.  Genny Matron makes better clothes than 
almost any other seamstress in town; so if we need something 
FANCY to wear, or extra-sturdy, then it's not considered uppity 
to trade something to her for decent duds.
     Like I say, almost every person in town usually has 
something extra that they do, make, or have to trade ... from 
Danny who uses part of rather enormous house his parents left him 
as a tavern/inn (What I understand now would be called more a 
"bed and breakfast") to Simple Joe, who braids whips even while 
watching sheep.
     Us?  We raise unicorns, as I said.
     I know ... I know.  Some people don't even think unicorns 
exist.  Others think strange things about them.  Over the past 
hundred years or so, my family has acquired about a dozen books 
about unicorns ... only one of which looks to have been written 
by somebody who actually raised unicorns.  It's amazing the 
folklore and just plain garbage that people "know" about unicorns 
that just isn't so.
     Along with the books about unicorns, we (unlike many 
families out here) have quite an extensive library of other books 
as well.  We can afford it.  There's a whole room dedicated to 
reading ... "The library" we call it, after those institutions 
we've heard about in cities, where they actually have thousands 
of books that almost anybody can read ... if you can imagine such 
riches.







                                1


     Yes, we're well-off.  The price of unicorn-horn, either 
ground or especially whole, is astronomical.  Of course, that 
makes us targets too, as this story will tell.  The house is big 
and fortified; and Daddy pays yearly to have the spell connecting 
our bell to the Earl's house renewed ... pays dearly, in fact.  
On the other hand, he has no choice, either.  It's part of our 
contract with the Earl, and through him, The King.
     Like I say, raising unicorns can be a sad thing.  It's been 
over ten years since the last raid on our house that lost us our 
mother; but we (at least I) will never forget it.  The 
retribution upon those the Earl's men caught torturing Mom to 
reveal the cache (everybody just ASSUMES we have some kind of 
cache of horn and powdered horn somewhere) kept any prospective 
robbers away for years now.  I was in the woods when they came 
(thank Goodness) but I can still hear the screams they made under 
the Earl's justice.  It went on for days; and still gives me 
shudders.  Even that poor boy, who had just joined the gang, and 
knew almost nothing about it.  The law was the law.
     I understand that to keep the men alive longer, the Earl 
himself drew water from the tap we use to get water from the 
cistern.  If the men had only realized the water they were 
drinking was purified by being filtered through a two-foot thick 
layer of unicorn dust, that would buy the whole kingdom with 
money left over to put down-payments on all the neighbors ....
     But nobody ever even suspected.  Not even the Earl.  Some 
things are best kept inside the family; as who knows what 
knowledge like that would do?
     Today was something less nasty; but no less dangerous 
(though the poor sods didn't realize it) to those attempting it.  
Luckily, me and my two older sisters make sweeps of the forest, 
looking for just such things, every week or so.  (Well, it TAKES 
a while to cover several thousand acres of forest with just three 
people.)  If we hadn't, that poor girl would never have made it.
     This occasion was essentially just like so many earlier 
ones.  The poor guys *thought* they knew how to catch a unicorn.  
Just stake out a virgin, and a unicorn would waltze right into 
their trap.  Kill the beast, butcher it, grab the girl, and go.
     I feel sorry for such men.  Actually, that's all we can do.  
Teaching them the TRUTH about unicorns would bring such a rush of 
poachers that the race hereabouts would be extinct in a year or 
two at most.  No, we can't let that knowledge spread ... 
especially as it's so *obvious* once you're told.  I admire 
whatever distant relative of my figured it out.  I presume it was 
a girl.
     Like always, it was the buzzards that drew me.  Damn.  Why 
do men have to STINK so much when they die?  Not one, not two 
(the commonest number) not three or even four men, but FIVE lay 
scattered around the clearing.  All dead, of course.  Only one of 
them had ever even seen the unicorn; and it was obviously the 
last thing he ever saw before the animal's horn took him through 
the chest.  Poor idiot.






                                2


     Damn.  Do the greed-crazed fools always think that unicorns 
are idiots, with no sense of smell?  Even *I* could smell THESE 
men ... from a mile downwind, and I'm talking when they were 
alive and healthy?  Healthy?  Well, maybe not.  Let's stick with 
alive.  I don't think a one of the five had taken a bath in two 
weeks, and if that, it was an accident.
     More than that, did they think that an animal that roams 
freely in the forest wouldn't smell the absolute STINK of fear 
the poor child they had staked out in the clearing had?  Did they 
not think an animal as smart as a unicorn wouldn't check to see 
WHY the girl was frightened?  Obviously not.
     It took me the rest of the day to get the poor girl home.  
Thankfully the Earl's men took care of the bodies when the 
tintinnabulation of the bell brought them clattering up to the 
house ready for anything up to a minor war.  I personally wished 
them luck in finding booty on the bodies.  *I* certainly wasn't 
going to touch them.  Especially not when I had a unicorn to 
catch in the next week.
     The girl we kept in one of the rooms provided in our house.  
According to law, she was ours until she delivered, like any 
slave.  And a slave-catcher would ensure she was returned to us, 
if she tried to escape.  Poor girl.  Alone, pregnant, and 
probably her whole family dead, as most likely the four men were 
her father and brothers.  Though the type of man that would treat 
his own little girl like that ... If it wasn't for Daddy as an 
example of others, I think I could get to hate men.
     Not having any men around except for our father, might have 
added to that attitude.  For a while, when younger, I thought 
that I didn't NEED men.  My sisters were quite good enough lovers 
for anybody.  Only sisters don't give you babies, no matter HOW 
good lovers they are.  So, while I grew up I kept an eye on the 
boys in town as they developed into men ... and finally settled 
on Danny, the smith's boy.  He was smart, not bad looking, and 
definitely interested.  (Well ... Quite a few boys in town were 
interested in us girls.  A unicorn-girl was quite a catch.)  Most 
important, he was smart enough to wait until I was ready.  
Tomorrow would be my last time.  <Sigh.>
     To pass the time that night, after getting the poor kid in 
the safe-room her meals, showing her the outhouse, and detailing 
her duties starting the next day, (Why me, Oh Sonnoya?) I settled 
down under a sconce and did some reading ... about unicorns, of 
course.
     I had several giggles about the crazy wording and ideas that 
some men had about catching unicorns.  No wonder we found some 
poor girl staked out like Jenny (I found out her name) every year 
or two.  "If ye woode catche the Yunicorne, hafe a yung firgin 
who has not been tuched"  (Geesh!  This writer thought this was 
how people spoke?  Talk about "touched"!  This guy was touched in 
the head.)  I think he was trying to fake the book being "olde" 
and being written long ago, to make it seem more authentic.  
<Giggle.>






                                3


     Whatever.  It seems the guy thought (like those poor saps 
who staked out Jenny?) that if you just put a virgin girl who 
never had sex out in the woods, then a unicorn would come up and 
lay his head in her lap.  Then you could come out and kill it.  
What garbage.  Such a mixture of half-truths and outright junk.
     Unlike this other one ... Written by a man who obviously 
*knew*.  "To attract a unicorn ... a fractious beast indeed ... 
you must have a young maiden, one untouched by *men*, who is 
ready to conceive, and have her *go alone* into woods where 
unicorns reside.  The male will approach her ...."
     I shut the book.  I knew the rest; as did my sisters.  
Humanity and Unicorns had worked out a method of mutual survival.  
We were as important to the unicorn, as it was to our way of 
life.  Like the contract with the Earl and King, it was to our 
mutual benefit.  I went to sleep, dreaming about my beautiful 
brindled stallion.  One more time.  <Sigh.>
     The next day we checked on the girl.  Jenny was still in 
shock about what had happened.  Still, she had to learn her 
duties ... mainly weeding in the garden.  If she didn't help 
raise the food, then she wouldn't eat.  At least for now.  Since 
she would be here for nine months at a minimum; and more likely 
ten to twelve (depending on when a viable egg was dropped) it 
behooved her to learn to raise the meals she would eat.
     Anywhere from nine to a year or so as a slave ... and then 
she would be released; far better off actually than she would 
have been with her family.  As said, unicorn girls are in great 
demand ... and she would have a dowry such as her poor family 
could never have supplied.  A small price, some might think.
     (A VERY horrid thought occurred to me ... What if the recent 
increase in such things was because some men KNEW this ... and 
couldn't provide for their daughter/sister. It was well-known 
that some farms not that far away had failed so badly after the 
last drought, that the men lost their entire livelihood.  What a 
sacrifice to make!  I firmly put *THAT* horrible idea out of my 
head.  The men were greedy poaching robbers, who tied up their 
own little girl without caring what horrible thing happened to 
her, as long as they caught a unicorn.  They *had* to be.)
     Whatever.  I took a bath in the cistern-water usually 
reserved only for drinking.  I needed purity today.  This time, 
only Sam would follow me.  This was my last time, and this time I 
would share it with none of my sisters.
     Getting ready, gathering a lunch, packing extra food and 
water in case things took longer than usual, wearing the freshly-
made (but skimpy) clothes that Genny had provided ("untouched by 
men") made me realize I had to move fast, if I would get to my 
planned spot before noon.  The same spot as my first time.
     Memories *are* important, you know.  Both humans and 
unicorns do remember.  I gathered myself up from my wool-
gathering, told Jenny, who was looking at the garden with almost 
fear, "To eat, you work.  Starving will not bring your brothers 
back," and left.  "Quidquid praecipies, esto brevis."






                                4


     The "Clang" of the garden-gate swinging shut behind me added 
punctuation to my words.  I didn't look back to see if the girl 
was following my homily.  If she didn't now, she would later when 
hunger drove her to it.  It would be months yet before we had to 
ensure she had a proper diet.  No girl yet had elected to starve.
     It was with a mixture of joy and sadness that I walked 
towards the woods this time; passing familiar sights of late 
spring and early summer.  The apple trees were past blooming; and 
not yet really budding with apples.  The conifers were silent and 
dark underneath.  The scree where lumberjacks had emptied one 
side of a hill still spilled detritus down towards the creek 
below.  It would take another five to ten years for the scar to 
heal enough to be green again.  All-in-all though, a great summer 
day, with long days, short nights, and the smell of green growing 
things in the air.  Yes, definitely a good day for starting 
something new to growing.
     It *was* past noon, when I reached the meadow.  Knowing 
unicorn preferences for more privacy however, I sought the more 
enclosed clearing on one side, where a creek splashed happily by, 
and gurgled like a cheerful babe as it vanished farther down into 
the meadow below.  Samantha would know where to find me, when the 
proper time came.
     I spread out the blanket.  (Might as well be comfortable.)  
Put the food and water nearby, and settled down to read one of 
the few precious volumes we had of love and romance.  After 
today, I would have to learn a lot about such things.  I wanted 
Danny to be happy with me as a wife ... and me, him.  Today (or 
possibly tonight) was my last time.
     It took longer this time than usual, for the stallion to 
find me.  I wondered if it was because he was the one who had 
taken Jenny, and thus was already sated.  I hoped not.  More 
likely, other unicorns had recognized his smell upon me, and had 
thus left me for the older animal.
     It was like he just appeared; his dappled gray hide blending 
in with the forest like he was part of it.  As usual, the sight 
of such a magnificent animal almost took my breath away.  A 
unicorn is *NOT* just a horse with a horn you know.  It's a 
separate creature, that just cannot breed with them.  In fact 
(something that only unicorn breeders like us know) all unicorns 
are male.
     The great beast approached me, sniffed me, and once 
satisfied stroked my body with its horn.  A tingle ran through my 
loins, as I felt my body react in the way only a woman's body can 
to the live touch of a unicorn-horn.  For some reason, only the 
live beast will bring this response in a woman, while all other 
virtues of the horn remain intact with the animal's death.
     Two, then three strokes; and then the brindled animal was 
rubbing against me more like a cat begging for attention, than a 
horse or hooved creature.  I felt my body respond, both 
involuntarily, and with conscious heat on my part.
     In the back of my mind, I hoped that Jenny had enjoyed *her* 
coupling, rather than being frightened by it.  I always had ... 
but then, I hadn't been frightened, tied up, or blindfolded; 
though I knew the blindfold must have been gone before she was 
taken.


                                5


     I felt myself being nudged by the nose of my magnificent 
lover.  How the great beast kept the horn from poking me and 
drawing blood, I'll never know.  By this time, I was so hot and 
ready, I must have smelled like a bitch in heat ... or is that 
mare in heat?  I was definitely ready.
     So was the unicorn.  With a sudden thrust, I was filled.  
Truly filled; as the unicorn's penis grew from that the size of a 
large man (10 or 12 inches) to a truly appalling size inside me.  
Luckily, unicorns don't thrust in and out like I've seen dogs do 
(and have heard that men do) but just locked his body to mine 
while we mated.
     A warm feeling spread from my loins to my belly, my arms, 
legs, and chest, and finally reached my brain as I suddenly 
started exploding in orgasm again and again; my vagina and womb 
milking the embedded member inside it for the precious seed 
stored there.  A unicorn, unlike most other animals, does not 
squirt semen inside a woman.  SHE milks it out of the bulb he 
plants inside her, as the virtue of his penis makes her orgasm 
almost continuously for up to several hours, depending on his 
age, and her stamina.  It's an incredible experience; and one 
that could bring a woman back time after time, if allowed.
     But once bred, all unicorns lose interest in a woman.
     Similarly, if *any* other male has entered the woman 
previously, no unicorn will show interest.  In fact, they avoid 
all humans except girls who haven't had sex with anybody but 
them.  That includes other unicorns.
     And ... once bred ... a woman is almost certain to conceive.  
For unicorn sperm does not die in three days, three weeks, or 
even three years; drawing sustenance from the female body until I 
viable egg drops and is fertilized.  Only pregnancy causes death 
to the competing sperm.  This being one of the ways that unicorns 
ensure the continuation of their species.
     I woke from incredible orgasmic bliss to soreness between my 
legs.  Not since the first time with the great stallion, had I 
been that sore.  The horny old thing had done me up brown.  The 
second thing I noticed (after blue skies and forest around me) 
was the crumpled gray heap about ten feet away.  My sister had 
done her job.  Yes, my lover was dead, except for the life 
growing inside me, and the sons he had fathered on me and my 
sister for the last ten years.
     Now that he was dead, other unicorns ... his sons ... might 
approach me ... when I was fertile again.  But that phase of my 
life was over now.  My sister would carry on.  Once this foal was 
born and released into the forest, I would start raising girls of 
my own.
     For you see, unicorn-horn, especially ground horn, has the 
ability to purify water.  And that water has almost the same 
potency to ensure male virility as the horn itself does.  But 
such virility has a price.  The children are all girls.
     So does the unicorn in yet another way ensure the survival 
of both species.






                                6


     Like I said, sometimes raising unicorns can be a sad thing.  
Looking down at the body of the great beast, was such a sad 
thing; but entirely necessary.  Unicorns do not live as long as 
men; seldom past 12 years.  My gorgeous lover was an old unicorn; 
and would soon have died.  WHERE unicorns go when they die, 
nobody has ever figured out.  One person even suggested in the 
books I read, that they ate each other, to prevent humans from 
finding them.  In support, he pointed out that unicorns have 
teeth far more suited to eating meat than grass.  An interesting 
idea.  For sure they can be killers; as the dead poachers gave 
good evidence of.
     I was glad that the poison on the dart was both fast and 
painless; having experienced a touch of it myself when young.  It 
just deadens nerves until death occurs.  Luckily, I had just lost 
feeling in an arm for about an hour from the slight scratch ... 
unlike the large dose that brought the stallion down.
     But raising unicorns can also be a joyous thing.  In nine, 
ten, or even eleven or twelve months I would give birth to our 
son, and watch the young stallion stagger off into the woods; 
growing stronger and more steady with each step.  It's an 
experience that no man will ever know.
     Tomorrow, I'll go see Danny.  Now that the unicorn's sperm 
is safely locked inside my womb by the plug the animal left, it's 
safe for me to have sex with a man.
     And, as I said, a unicorn-girl is greatly prized around 
these parts.  Where else can a man find a woman with *proven* 
fertility, that he *knows* has never slept with another man ... 
ever.  Besides, a king's ransom in unicorn horn never hurts a 
gal's chances either.
     <Sigh.>
     I'll miss my big lover though.
     I left the dirty work of butchering to my younger sisters.  
For some reason, I just didn't feel like helping this time.
























                                7
