("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: potted.txt (Mf, inc, rp, nec, tort) Authors name: Lor Oldmann (alasder@planet-save.com) Story title : Potted Fairy Tales for Real -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Potted Fairy Tales for Real (Mf, inc, rp, nec, tort) by Lor Oldmann (alasder@planet-save.com) *** A serious attempt to explore, examine and experiment with the erogenous zones of traditional folk lore and fairy tale. *** Potted Fairy Tales for Real: The Metal Kettle, Snow White, and The Golden Distaff. Fact: fairy tales have been around for as long as human beings have realised that they can communicate their thoughts to one another by the spoken or written word. For the extant oral tradition we have to go into the heart of Africa, to the Stone Age people of Borneo or to the Aborigines of Central Australia. The most famous collection in written form has to be the 'Kinder- und Haus-m„rchen' by the brothers Grimm, and the most famous fairy tale teller is, of course, Hans Christian Andersen, which utterly useless bits of information distort the real nature of the genre. The inescapable fact is that fairy tales were told originally to give expression to the deepest, darkest imagining of the human psyche. In other words, they were indescribably filthy and wicked; what we find embodied in the original fairy tale are unrestrained lust and murder, total disregard for any sense of decency, righteousness, moral or political correctness or any consideration for human dignity or self-respect. What the Frenchman Perrault, the German Grimm brothers, the Dane Hans Andersen and the Scotsman Andrew Lang did was to give these utterly disgusting thoughts some measure of respectability without actually destroying their texture. Fairy tales, in one form or another, have occupied some of the most peculiar minds of the past: Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, for instance, Zarathustra, Jesus of Nazareth and Mohammed in religious circles, the philosophers Kant, Nietzsche and Martin Buber, not to mention modern film producers, the latest Harry Potter craze and the slightly earlier and better Tolkien stories, and sad compilers of semi- illiterate horny little pieces on Little Red Riding Hood on the internet. One of the oldest of all fairy tales dates back to the period of prehistory when stone age man and his dogs came into contact with the much more sophisticated bronze age or early iron age women. The aboriginal Neolithic man is shrouded in mystery and given the supernatural status of 'fairy' or 'man of peace' in the earliest folk lore. Note in passing: the term 'fairy' as a redneck's description of a 'queer' or 'gay' in fact finds its origin in 'fairy' as a synonym for 'Neanderthal' or 'cave man', even 'he man' or 'hard man'. The stories that follows are suitable only for mature adult minds with a sense of humour and not for squeamish little pricks who think that sex is intrinsically flawed and that only the missionary position after prolonged prayer is permitted -- but only just. Unlike subsequent stories in the series, they are related in terms as near the original oral tradition as it is possible to get in the early 21st century. *** The Metal Kettle A woman owned a kettle. Because it was made of metal it cooked food much quicker, more thoroughly and much more efficiently than any stone pot. A fairy man often came to her, when her husband was absent making money in metals presumably, to borrow the kettle. While he was inside the house, his dogs would sit at the threshold and growl at any who came near. The stone age man and the metal kettle woman would haggle over the conditions of the loan every time, but the outcome was always the same: the woman would get fucked by the fairy man (because stone age man meat still had a touch of animal about it while metal age man had lost something in translation), and, the man made a solemn promise that when he returned the pot it would contain some of the cooked meat (for stone age man was still a hunter while the more civilised bronze age man had started to till the ground and had become something of a vegetarian whereas his woman longed for meat). Of course, being in that dark misty edge of time, all this was done in verse: The cost of the kettle is meat, Raw, savage and replete, Di da di da di da de da, and brought back here complete. (Christ! What do you expect for free? Lord Byron?) Anyway, after a series of visits like this, the woman suddenly finds herself with morning sickness. Her husband is pleased, for he has been having doubts about his complete manhood - he has been married for over a year, and she was old enough to bleed when he married her! And it will be nice to hear the patter of tiny feet... Yog (for that is fairy man's name) continues to visit on the pretence of borrowing the kettle although he is beginning to like the bargaining for its own sake and his fairy wife is getting a bit past her sell-by date and not nearly as good-looking as this chic. In the ninth month, the young metal kettle woman decides it is time to go home to mother (for such was the tradition among bronze age women - to have their babies in the company of other women, in an attempt to preserve some mystery in life). So she instructs her husband: 'See this potted hare, you bin guzzlin'? And the steamed salmon and stewed venison? Well, I gotta confession! It was not me what did the cooking. It is this guy who comes along to borrow the kettle from time to time, like every other day. He gets it on a regular basis like! And he brings home the bacon in the pot as part of the deal! Now listen carefully! This is what you have to do." True to form, Yog turned up to borrow the kettle. At first he seemed a bit disoriented. The kettle person seemed different: bigger and hairier, definitely older and certainly uglier - almost as ugly as his wife, and the tunic it wore reached below the knees instead of just below the vital parts. But a deal is a deal! He lifted the kettle man and threw him to the floor. There was a bit of a struggle, mostly one-sided, and some slight difficulty in finding an orifice, but having found it, he fucked as only stone age man could, shot off, collected the kettle and left with his dogs. Metal kettle man lay for a while in deep contemplation on the floor. 'So this is how we get the goodies,' he reflected with a wan smile on his face. 'Ah, well, c'est la vie!' When Yog returned the following day, with braised baron of beef, metal kettle man, who was not yet completely familiar with the routine nor had fully understood his wife's instructions, hauled up the skirts of his tunic and bent over. Stone age man, assuming that it was a case of economic inflation, obliged, fucked the bronzed age man stupid for about a quarter of an hour then left metal kettle man licking his lips as he turned his attention to the contents of the pot. Three or four week later, metal kettle women returns home with her infant son and a severe case of PND. Fairy man appears soon afterwards, for the third time that week, to borrow the kettle. He is perplexed and not a little disgruntled, for there are now two metal kettle people. A deal is a deal is a deal! He lets his eyes wander from the cot in the corner to the younger, smaller and undeniably prettier metal kettle person. He then lifts the older, hairier, and positively uglier of the two, throws him face down on the floor and fucks the shit out of him, for it has to be said: stone age man has developed a taste for mature backside. He shoots off, lifts the kettle and departs, leaving the woman flabbergasted and lost for words. Not for long, though. She berates her husband for being a double-crossing bastard son of a faggot bitch, for besmirching the good name of fair(y) trading, etc. etc. Her PND suddenly reaches boiling point and explodes. She decides to reclaim her kettle, and for that purpose goes in search of Yog. She has never been in fairyland before, and it is a while before she finally finds the right cave. And there on the fire is her pot simmering away quite nicely with a delicious estouffade de bouf … la proven‡ale (for such is the location of the earliest version of the story). The cave was dark and there seemed nobody around except an old man, apparently dead drunk or fast asleep. She lifted the kettle from the fire and made her escape, but the old man woke from his slumbers and whistled for the two fairy dogs from deeper inside the cave. These gave chase. The kettle was cumbersome. The woman decided to pour out some of the stew as a means of lightening the burden and tempting the dogs away from pursuit. Of course the dogs took the bait, but soon gobbled up the food and resumed the chase. She did this a couple of times, but in the end the manoeuvre proved unsuccessful. Just as she reached home, at the threshold, the dogs caught up with her. They pounced on her and knocked her to the floor. The contents of the kettle spilled. One dog sniffed the now cold meat sploshed about the floor and consumed it; the other sniffed the still hot meat between the woman's thighs and made a meal of licking before finally mounting her. She screamed blue bloody murder at the shock of the forced entry, for she had never experienced anything like a dog cock inside her. It was as if it were growing bigger and harder by the second as the beast hammered into her. She felt her assailant becoming more agitated in his thrusts, and then exploding hot, blistering, heavy semen inside her as, still deeply embedded inside her, he swung away, and they were stuck, butt to backside. And the poor bitch wondered what the hell was happening to the world, and why two and two no longer made - er, what was it? Oh yes, four - or thereabouts. Meanwhile, the other dog, having finished off the stew, turned his attention to the man of the house who, witnessing the display, simply assumed it to be another deal struck by his wife with the fairy folk. He knelt down, prepared to let the second dog have its evil way. The animal sniffed for a few moments and obliged and the earlier saga was reprised. While all this was going on, Yog, presupposing that it had been stolen, set out to make amends for the missing pot. He arrived on the scene just as Metal man was being well and truly fucked by the dog and metal woman was still attached to the other dog by their naughty bits. Yog felt the muscles of his stomach retching, and he wondered at the degeneration of the human species. He was disgusted. 'I don't know what the world is coming to!' he exclaimed. 'It certainly wasn't like this in my young days, or in the days of my father!' He whistled and the one dog pulled out of the woman with a resounding plop and the other dog retreated with some reluctance and hesitance from her husband. Yog proceeded to beat the shit out of the two dogs for their disgusting, disgraceful behaviour then went back the way he had come from fairyland, greatly saddened by the breakdown of communications between cultures. He always said that nothing good would come from meddling in metal and other such dark smoky mysteries. And so it proved. The fairy man never came back to borrow the kettle. The second fairy tale comes from the Middle Ages. Best known for the Walt Disney travesty based on the Grimm brother's version. It is the tale of... *** Snow White in the land of Dwarfs. In a certain Land in the country we now know as Germany there was a brutal and inhuman practice (found among the wild animals of Africa) of abandoning deformed offsprings to the forces of nature. The cheetah in Africa will take a runt of the litter far into the brush and leave it there for predators. In this particular Land, unwanted children were taken deep into the forest and left for the wild beasts or whatever. The wild beasts were wolves, bears, wild boars and such like; the whatever were the fairies or the survivors of such an evil practice who, somehow or other, managed to defeat all the odds and form a strange society of freaks. Freaks they may have been, but they were human creatures with hearts and needs, and so they organised themselves, made laws and marriages, and were not averse to breaking these laws and their marriage vows. They may have had to endure a miserable existence, but they appear to have also been horny little bastards (many of them were quite literally that!). The Land beyond where the forest was, was ruled by a king and a queen who had a daughter called Snow White, because her skin was so clear that it was possible to see the blood pulsing through her arteries (rich red) and veins (royal blue). She was the most beautiful creature on earth. As the little girl grew, her skin became as white as the untrodden snow, her cheeks as rosy as her arterial blood and her eyes as blue as the blood in her veins. Only her jet black hair prevented her from scoring full marks on the Nazi racial stereotype scale. As always happens in these set-ups, the kid's mother died and the dad was so heart-broken that he instantly married the first really gorgeous, sexy broad that waddled along the catwalk to the palace within the week. This step-mother had a magic mirror which she hung on the bedroom wall where the ex-queen's portrait used to be, and when her husband was away she would stand before this mirror and admire herself and talk to her reflection. Then one day in such a conversation she broke into verse which is a really dangerous thing to do in a fairy tale: Spiegel, Spiegel an der Wand, Wer ist sch”nste in dem Land? She peed herself when the reflection not only answered, but insulted her. You O Queen were razzle-dazzle, But Snow White beats you to a frazzle. When she recovered she was livid and decided that the conceited little bitch, who dared to consider herself lovelier, sexier, sweeter and more tender-hearted than her dear step-mother, had to go. Permanently! * The king had been away fighting some neighbouring king in the medieval equivalent of the European Hooligans Cup. It would be some time before he would return - if he was victorious. So the queen told a woodman, who is always poor in these stories and who always gets the dirty work to do, to take the child, now sweet fourteen, deep into the forest and abandon her there to the wild beasts, the weirdoes or the fairies. (This last category has to be included in order for the story to qualify as a fairy tale.) The freaks of the forest could not believe their luck when three of their number, returning from work in the clay mines where they looked for gold and diamonds, found this pretty little piece of cheesecake sitting alone, skirts above her parted knees, making a daisy chain in a tiny clearing. 'She ain't for real,' declared one of the dwarfs. 'People don't just leave things like that lying around.' 'It's a mirage created by them damned fairies,' suggested another. 'Or a fucking trap!' exclaimed a third. 'Let's get the fuck outa here!' 'Hold on,' insisted the first. 'What have we got to lose?' 'Our fucking lives,' grumbled the third. 'Anyway, let's have a closer look at it.' The second freak approached edgily and gingerly on tip-toe with hunched shoulders, because that was the nature of his affliction. 'What have we got to go home to?' 'There's Nell...' '...who doesn't have a breast,' sneered the first; 'more of an udder' 'Or Wanda...' '...who has two prices.' The first freak laughed. 'Depending on whether she picks away the scabs!' After a great deal of such banter, they finally approach Snow White. At first they were satisfied with looking her over, but graduated to prodding and feeling, much to Snow White's obvious annoyance. 'Looks all right to me!' said the first. 'Hard to tell with all those clothes on,' said the second. 'Let's strip her and see what she is really like.' 'Let's get the fuck outa here before it's too fucking late,' said the third. But the other two removed the girl's clothing despite her protests and flailing fists. All three freaks gasped in astonishment at the perfect beauty before them where they could actually see the blood coursing through her arteries and all that jazz. When they had recovered from their shock, freaks one and two proceeded to feel this goddess up. 'This is a dream,' stated the first freak at her tits. 'We're all going to wake up any moment now...' 'Then let's fuck her before we do,' said the second who was already tasting her cunt. 'It's ten to fucking twelve statutory in the fucking castle dungeon for rape in this fucking Land,' moaned the third, now quite seriously concerned. 'And fucking life or the fucking death penalty if she's a fucking minor." 'How old are you, honey?' enquired the first freak. 'I'm fourteen, you deformed pigs,' screamed the sweet child, 'and if you lay a finger on me, my father will cut your balls off and stick them all the way up your stinking ass-holes! I'm princess Snow White and my father is the fucking godfather around here, you freaking shit bags.' 'I like a girl with spirit,' said number one. 'I like a girl with pussy,' countered the second. 'Every girl has pussy,' observed the first. 'So?' ejaculated the second. 'I like them all.' So all three fucked her solid for the rest of the day, although it has to be said that freak number three had reservations. Freaks one and two had nothing left in reserve. So they took her home with them. Meanwhile back at the castle. The king has returned from his battle. After a while he asks where his daughter is. Queenie shrugs. 'Around,' she says, then under her breath adds 'a round little ball of useless shit!' It took another week or so for the king to come to the conclusion that his daughter wasn't around and another couple of weeks for him to forget all about her. For as he said, 'After all, it was only a girl. Not like it was a son!' Then on reflection he added, 'Mind you, she was quite a looker, er. that er. girl.er.what was her name?' Meanwhile, Snow White grew more beautiful by the day and more and more popular even with the females of the freak village, the great majority of whom were ugly to such an extent that it became an art form. 'It's such a pleasure having such a pretty little girl in our midst,' said one really impossibly and dreadfully ugly specimen. Even the dogs of the village ran away in terror from her. 'The men folk seem to think so,' said the girl with something of a sneer. 'And such a relief,' added the hag. Snow White was slightly taken aback. 'What do you mean, you utterly disgusting monstrosity?' 'My hand was beginning to get tired,' sighed the woman. 'It was my mouth,' claimed another ugly bitch. 'It was getting that I could hardly eat or speak, the way they went at it, and I lost all my teeth.' 'I was getting that I couldn't sit down,' stated a third atrocious creature. 'It was my ankle,' said a fourth and the others stared at her in disbelief. Well, anyway, that's all by the by; the fact is that Snow White became more and more beautiful, attractive, desirable, sexy, notorious and rich by the day. Her reputation inevitably went far beyond the forest home of these freaks, until recognisably normal men came from far and even farther afield to get a piece of the action and savour the goodies. And even more inevitably it reached the ears of the king that there was a prize piece of pussy deep in the forest of his own Land so he resolved to try it for himself. As he was fucking her for the fourth time in quick succession, for he vowed that he had never had anything closely resembling it in his entire life, he had the odd feeling that there was something vaguely familiar about this hot piece of sex. He enquired about her name, her station in life, her history and her price, and was shocked to find that he was fucking his own flesh and blood - and paying for it. He was also outraged at the conceit, the deceit and the double-mindedness of his second wife, and decided that the bitch had to die. So the beautiful Snow White returned to her proper place in the royal palace amid the general acclamation and loud rejoicing of the people. The wicked stepmother heard the commotion, put two and two together and made a hasty exit. And everyone was happy. The freaks were happy because they were now permitted to trade with the rest of the Land, the courtiers were happy because the stepmother had proved to be a real pain in the afterthoughts among them, Snow White was happy because she was back where she rightly belonged - among the plush and velvet and wealth of the palace. But for some reason the king was the happiest of them all. He went around all day every day with a smile on his fat face. And he never went to war no more! *** The Golden Distaff The golden distaff in this early medieval folk tale is little more than a red herring. Certainly it is a magic piece of equipment (invented by fairies, of course, to edge it into the genre) that produces a thread of the purest gold, but it has little place in the story other than provide a bit of class and the occasional bit of guidance to the perplexed. After all, it isn't your common herdsman or wood-cutter who could afford a shirt woven from the purest gold. Much more important to the story are the five characters: Dora, the heroine who is, in fact, a princess who has been kidnapped by these goddam fairies, sexually abused and cast aside, and who obviously is the most beautiful creature who has ever lived, Grona, her evil and exquisitely ugly foster- mother, Jarna, the foster-mother's plain jane of a daughter, Harn, the inevitable wood-cutter, and the equally inevitable king who has to remain anonymous for legal reasons. Shortly after his coronation, the anonymous king went hunting deer and wild boar in the great forests of his kingdom. It was a blisteringly hot day and when the hunting party came to a clearing with a little house, the king approached with the purpose of asking for a drink of cold water. The door was opened by the most beautiful young girl he could have dreamed about, and instantly he fell in love. Her lips were full, pouting, red and ripe for kissing and her breasts were bursting from her bodice. To prove his love, he carried her to a bed, ripped the clothes from her body and raped the hell out of her, for even in those dark, far-off days, heads of state fucked their subjects just to show how much they cared. Later, on the way back to his palace after completing his hunting for the day, the king is overcome by a sense of guilt, shame and bitter remorse. Alone he returns to the cottage and tells the beautiful, now tearful kid how much he loves her and how sorry he is that he has done such an evil deed, and to prove how sorry he is he throws her back on to the bed, rips the remains of her clothing off and fucks her senseless. When she recovers somewhat after he has slapped her about a bit, he reaffirms his love and tells her that he intend to marry her and to start the preparations for the wedding on the Sunday after the next full moon. 'But I love the wood-cutter,' declared the violated maiden. 'Fuck him!' exclaimed the king. 'What sort of future can he provide?' The girl reflects upon this thought for fully three seconds, then nods agreement. 'OK!' And the matter is settled. She is full of it! And more! She can't wait to tell her ugly foster parent and her repulsive daughter the good news. She is only mildly surprised when they don't jump up and down and dance around in vicarious joy. For who the hell is going to sweep the floors, make the beds, cook the meals, wash the dishes, light the fires, thatch the roof.? For Grona and Jarna things look pretty bleak. A few weeks later, the king orders the hag Grona to bring the beautiful Dora to the castle in time for the dawning of the first Sunday after the full moon. For then the marriage can take place. The evil old witch hatches a wicked plot. She takes the young girl even deeper into the forest and pierces her heart with a stiletto. To make sure she is well and truly dead, she cuts off her head, and to make doubly and trebly sure, she cuts the hands and feet off the corpse and buries the bits and pieces in seven different locations because arithmetic was never her best subject, having conveniently found a spade that was left over from an earlier fairy tale. She then returns to the clearing and the cottage to do a renovation job on Jarna. On the dawning of the Sunday after the full moon, Grona turns up at the castle with Jarna dressed up to look like Dora. The king takes her word for it, but has doubts, because even the veil over her face cannot minimise the chasm between true beauty and a pock- marked, smelly-arsed, bow-legged, cross-eyed little tart. Nevertheless, the king assumed the drink he consumed at his stag party has something to do with it. He goes through the motions with the sacrament of holy matrimony, scuttles through to the royal bed chamber to indulge the traditional three days of crazed sex. He has Jarna, supposing it to be Dora, (one wonders why it didn't click when she answered her name in the wedding ceremony: "Wilt thou Jarna have this guy as your legally wedded husband?") every way possible in every position in all her orifices. Even if he had his doubts, he reassures himself, she fucks well, and that is the end all and be all of marriage! Meanwhile back in the forest Harn the mentally retarded woodcutter edges into the story. He has not had it for more than a month and has a hard-on that would crack a mare in twain. When he reaches the cottage in the clearing there is no-one around. He notices the golden distaff lying where Dora often sat spinning. When he lifts it, blood drips from it for some reason, and although he is not brilliant in the brain department, he knows instinctively that distaffs, especially golden distaffs, don't bleed. It is at this point that the story becomes a little hard to believe. For this golden distaff began to tremble and move the wood-cutter's hand like a diviner's twig. Because he had little choice in the matter, the wood-cutter followed and the distaff led him deeper and deeper in the forest until they came to the very spot where Grona had done the extreme dirty on the lovely Dora. A golden thread was unravelled from the distaff to a point on the ground where the man noticed that the earth had been recently disturbed. He found the spade that Grona had carelessly left lying around to rust. He dug up the still loose sods and uncovered the dead, bloody head of the beautiful girl. Of course he recognised it at onece. He took the head home to his own poor cottage with quite illegal and really very naughty intentions, for he still loved Dora, but before he could take it to bed he had to clean it up a bit. He bathed it tenderly. But as soon as the water touched the beautiful face, it came alive. And spoke his name. The wood-cutter shit himself and dropped the head into the bucket of water. It continued to speak, however, albeit with a splutter, and it told him of the evil things that had been done to here. It also told him where her other bits were, and that if he were to recover them, the fairies (in the background of the story) would ensure that she could be restored to wholeness and her former perfect glory. This was done. Dora did not exactly marry the wood- cutter, but they moved in together, into the house in the clearing, because it was bigger, cleaner and altogether a lot more modernly convenient with more comfortable beds in which they could fuck to their hearts' content. Nor did they live happily ever after. . For only a month later the king was out hunting deer and wild boar again in the forest. He became separated from the rest of the hunting party, night was approaching and a winter storm was threatening. Quite by chance he came to the same clearing where he had first fucked the girl he believed to be his wife. He reflected on it sadly, because she had turned out to be not the treasure he had hoped for; instead she proved to be a bitch of the first order every bit as bad as his mother-in-law. It was in that melancholy mood that he approached the little house to seek shelter for the night. Imagine his surprise and his flabbergastation when the door was opened by the beautiful sex kitten he had imagined he had married. Dora explained what had happened, and the king was furious and vowed to have his awful wife and her evil witch of a mother put down as painfully and as soon as possible. And to prove how furious he was and to put a seal on the sincerity of his vow he threw Dora across the bed and fucked her solid. She tried to explain about the wood-cutter who was at that moment somewhere out in the forest cutting down trees (at night, in an approaching storm? As previously noted, he was not entirely college material on top!) and that, while they were not quite legally married. 'Then fuck him!' exclaimed the king. 'Come back to the castle with me and we shall live happily ever after!' 'After what?' asked Dora. Nevertheless, she agreed. There was a note of real pathos in her voice, as she mounted behind the king on his horse, and looked back sadly at the cottage and said, 'I'd leave a note for the poor sod, but he can't read!' It is at this point in the story that the element of tragedy enters stage left. For there was an extremely old (I mean really seriously old, old - like nearly fifty-something) nurse in the castle who recognised Dora as soon as she enters (stage right). 'You can't marry her!' the nurse said to the king. 'She is your kid sister!' 'Oh, my gawwwwd!' exclaims the king inwardly. 'What have I done? I have gone and fucked my own sister! Oh, hellfire and damnation, what kind of pervert have I become?' And the nursemaid tells how, as a young three year old baby, the princess Edeline, for such was her real name although she much preferred Dora, was snatched from her bed by rather large fairies and taken into the darkest forest where she was discovered by the apparently ageless Harn the woodcutter who, because his means was rather limited and hadn't the first shade of an idea how to care for a young child, gave her into the care of the widow Grona because she had a daughter of her own of approximately the same age. And how the hell the ancient nursemaid knew all this and did fuck-all about it at the time is a mystery. The king is so distressed that he takes Dora to his bedroom and fucks the hell out of her for one last time, or maybe for a couple of last times, for obviously, even though they were living in fairy tale times, there had to be some restraint, and after all, fucking your own kid sister, I mean to say, how low and detestable can one get! And a king of all things! 'My God,' as Yog would have said a couple of fairy tales back, 'what is the world coming to?' Well, anyway, to make amends for all the evil that had been done, the king hanged Grona for being a murderess and burned her for being a witch. And, instead of killing her, he sent Jarna into the forest to live with Harn as compensation for the loss of Dora (whom we now know was the princess Edeline). And then a strange thing happened! A few days later, Harn turned up at the royal castle to express his gratitude for having been provided with a wife and a real sexy one at that. The same nursemaid who had recognised the princess Edeline, fell down on her knees and started to pay homage to the poor woodcutter. 'For,' she said to the king, 'this is none other than your older brother who was kidnapped by fairies when he was a baby of three years. He is the rightful ruler of all the kingdom.' 'Aw, fuck off!' said the king. 'This is getting too fucking complicated!' And they all lived in utter confusion ever after. And if you believe any of this shit, you're sick! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 25