Doge Gioletti threw opened the shutters to welcome in the oversized firefly bobbing over the darkening canals towards the palace. It alighted on the windowsill, resolving into the form of a tiny, luminescent girl. “You’re late.”

The fairy Shana Rosesong merely laughed, one of few creatures in all the world who dared laugh to the ruthless doge's face. “You court a fey and expect punctuality? You’ll count your lucky stars if I even bother to return for you at the end of the night,” she teased him.

The doge bristled. “Don’t think I haven’t planned safeguards against just such an eventuality, creature,” he snapped back. “Betray me and you will find a dozen assassins out for my -now your- blood. Unless I personally rescind the contract in the morning, using codes only I know, you will live to regret it, but only very briefly. Is that understood?”

“As if I’d ever want to overstay my welcome in a mortal body. Do I look like I have a death wish?” Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she tilted her head in recollection of how the curious human device worked. “I believe your wife will be expecting me at the opera soon. And you have a date with a mound of treasure. Shall we begin?”

The doge nodded. With a buzz of wings and no further ado, she sprang into the air and flew directly at his chest, vanishing inside with a puff of incandescent magic. He staggered. The fairy burst from his back, though it now showed far worse pitch control with its wings, buzzing drunkenly in circles before slamming into a wall.

With a wince, doge Gioletti picked himself up from the floor, rubbing the pain out of his diaphanous wings. One would have preferred a more orderly method of exchange, though it took some inertia to jettison a soul from its rightful body and into another.

As he examined his nude, feminine, fey form for injuries, a velvet-wrapped belly cast a vast shadow over his tiny form. He craned his head back to look up at the underside of his regal triple-chins high above.

Shana stared down at him. A rumble of delight rolled like thunder as Shana slid a hand down the doge’s robes to fondle her cock.

“Would you not do that in my presence,” the doge demanded.

His sweet, lyrical voice became a quiet eep of fear as Shana stepped closer, her boots inches away. All it would take was one misplaced footfall and he would be fairy-paste, a small glob on the underside of a man’s boot. But therein lay the thrill, for such a powerful man as he to be reduced to this feeble creature, barely more than an insect.

"Don't pretend I didn't catch you grinding my pussy against that silver candlestick the last time we swapped," she giggled.

Shana crouched over him, the excited bulge in her pantaloons filling his sky. It was as large as his entire body, and his wings twitched in perverse delight at the thought of his fairy body being completely impaled from ass to mouth upon that monstrous manhood.

Shana scooped him up. She carried him to the desk whereon was placed a strongbox filled halfway to the brim with riches - piles of gold and platinum coins, thick gemstones both cut and uncut, lustrous pearls as large as the doge’s pretty little head. Gently she laid him out on his bed of wealth, and he immediately dug himself in like a worm in dirt, kicking his lithe limbs in an attempt to swim through the glittering mounds.

Rolling over, he lay back, scooping gemstones around. She scattered a handful above him, sending the merchant king into rapture as jewels rained around his tiny tits, burying him to the neck.

“You humans and your greed. As if this coloured glass could compare to the jewel that is your wife’s pussy," Shana giggled.

He scowled up at the reminder of the liberties the fairy girl took with his cock (and his wife) but before he could retort, Shana had snapped closed the strongbox lid. She locked it, pocketed the key.

“Have fun in there. I’ll see you in the morning.”