Aesops Grimm Look at Mother's Goose - a revival

Welcome back to the enchanted forest.

Enjoy our light hearted tale of the misadventures of some of the denizens that dwell within the wood.

for more information about the characters, or the thread along with links to our original thread see the OOC thread here:

https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=500826

If you wish to join us, please read the OOC first.

Then pm your character idea to either Safefunguy or Maid of Marvels.

If the group approves we will let you in on the storyline and invite you to play.

Comments are always appreciated by PM. Enjoy the tale.

Mervin, The Big Bad Wolf

The sunlight slipped between the wooden shutters of the window of the cottage. The warm rays gently bathing the creature as he dreams. A smile spreads across his visage; his eyebrows waggle in his sleep. It must be a very good dream.

No doubting his wolfish grin now; or his tongue snaking across his lips. The prey must be near. He mumbles in his sleep: "but you MUST pay the rent." The tongue snakes out again.

He reaches up to twirl the end of his handlebar mustache...

"MUSTACHE!" Suddenly covered in sweat the wolf bolts upright, both paws to his face to feel the growth that wasn't there last night when he went to bed. In shock, Mervin flings away the covers and darts across the room to stand in front of the mirror.

Sure enough a thick black handlebar mustache is right below his nose, one side slightly higher and longer than the other. "What the hell?" The wolf stares dumbly into the mirror puzzled by the strange growth appearing overnight.

The most puzzling aspect of all is that this is not the first time something like this has happened to Mervin. "At least it wasn't horns this morning." he thinks to himself. He reaches for his razor and slices away the offending hairs.

He opens his mouth wide and turns his head from side to side. "All my teeth are still here at least." he sighs with relief. He licks his paw and runs it over the top of his head to ensure his hair is all in place.

"Off to collect the rents" he thinks to himself, the oddity of the morning mustache quickly forgotten. He begins down the lane toward the cottages he won from two of the little pigs. He begins to whistle a jaunty tune as he enjoys the cool spring day strolling in the sunshine.

The path twists in and out of the trees until he reaches the clearing where the cottages are located. He stops suddenly mid-whistle, his jaw falling open as he gapes at the nothingness where once stood the brick house. The only signs of its former presence are a walkway leading to nothing and a curlicue of smoke hanging in the sky above where the chimney used to be.

Mervin mingles with the crowd that has formed to stare at the blank nothingness that is all that remains of the famous cottage. An eerie hush hangs over the crowd until someone very quietly says: "Uh-oh."

Something is very wrong in the Enchanted Forest.

Gladiola, The Mildly Wicked

Gladiola sat at the kitchen table poring over a bonus installment of her Acme Ink correspondence course: Witchery, Twitchery, Two! while newts and lizards skittered, snakes slithered, toads hopped and a variety of rodents scurried around the room. The bats were at least hanging quietly from the eaves. As for the giant chicken and the bloodhound...

They were cute and all, she thought, shivering as a gerbil climbed up her leg and emerged from the top of her dress to perch on her shoulder, but she wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to magic them up in the first place - and definitely couldn't figure out how to send them away. "Conjuring Cuillinary Commestibles my eye!"

Truth, Gladiola didn't know where she'd gone wrong. She had followed the spell for a seven course meal word for word. Over and over.

The sound of quietly derisive laughter drew her attention and she glared at her broom which was leaning arrogantly against the wall (as usual). "If you did what you were supposed to, this mess would be cleaned up toot sweet!"

"You've got me mixed up with the Sorcerer's Apprentice, lady. Don't push your luck. If the Union hears I've been making regular runs to the grocery store, they'll be down on you like flies on... "

"Oh, shut UP! Can't you see I've got a crisis on my hands?"

Broom shifted. "I wouldn't call it a crisis," breathed the besom. "A menagerie, maybe, but not a crisis. What time's Woofie coming for dinner? Maybe you can order pizza or something."

"I can't. He'd know I didn't make it myself. Besides, since Prince Charming got that job at Dominoes, he thinks he can just hang out here whenever he makes a delivery. It takes me hours to get rid of him."

Broom snickered. "He wants your bod."

Gladiola sighed. "He's desperate. If Cindy would get over her bad hygiene thing, he'd never look at me twice. Besides... "

"I know. I know. You only have eyes for Woofie."

"Well, can you blame me?" Gladiola glanced up at the cuckoo clock.

"Charlie's still in a snit," Broom reminded her. "You shouldn't have told him to shut up. Good luck trying to get him to tell the time again in this century."

"Fine." Gladiola stood up and whistled. "I'll just use my mobile."

A parrot, a Norwegian Blue to be exact, flew into the room and landed on a perch. "You rang?"

Glad nodded. "Check the time on the big clock in the town square."

"What's in it for me?" the parrot asked saucily.

"You don't turn into dinner," she snapped.

"Not very likely." Nevertheless, it flew off to do its owner's bidding - after all, most Norwegian Blues know which side their nests are feathered on.

Gladiola sat back down and buried her face in her arms. Damn. She really hated when he went to collect rents. Especially in the porkers' neighborhood. Personally, she always believed those three should have fried for killing off Woofie's grandfather all those years ago. It was a clear case of premeditated murder the day they lured him into their soup pot.

Broom knew what she was thinking and had to add his two cents worth. "They were tried by their peers. It was a fair trial."

"Was not. Twelve pigs on the jury and those three little slabs of bacon got a wee wee wee all the way home free." Glad stood back up and put a hand on her hip. "And what about poor old Big Bad, huh? You call that justice? He got a nice spot under a tree pushing up daisies."

Tomas Le Souriceir, Puss in Boots

"Alors'? whu' time izzeet... Un'moment j'vousenprise..." Someone was complaining in a shrill voice, that made his head ring. Tom cracked an eye opened and squeezed it shut once more as the bright sunlight lanced into his brain. "Oooh, merde..." He became dimly aware that the horribly irritating voice was his own, and clamped down on the next outburst.

He needed to rest a little longer, oui- that was it. Except that whatever he was resting in scratched dreadfully, and rustled in a deafening way when he shifted. He groped blindly until his paws encountered the brocade of his coat. he dug into the pocket, and breathed a prayer of thanks- a very quiet prayer- as his paw closed around the silver flask. He'd never noticed before how noisy the cap was when unscrewing. The first mouthful of the fine old brandy soothed his soul mightily, and gave him the energy for the next one, and after that he was able to open his eyes.

A haystack. Tom hissed in annoyance. He distinctly remembered paying- paying for a room, albeit with coin purloined from the inn's strongbox not two hours before, and it had a fine big bed, and a sweet wench between the sheets Now he had a haystack, and a fine sweet wench glaring at him, and raising her arm preparatory to-

"Oow!" Tom yowled. He nursed the side of his face where her blow had landed.

"Why did you abduct me!" the minx yelled. Tom winced.

"M'amselle, I assure you-" He scrambled hastily out of her range. "An' please, lower your voice if you've any pity..." The lass was looking around her now, something that Tom was still too bleary to attempt.

"Why, this is the yard, but how-" she said at last. "And look- All of our guests! Ol' John the brewer!"

All about him, people were staggering to their feet, in various stages of night-undress. A rising babble began to fill the air, making Tom clap his hands over his ears in protest.

"My Inn!" Shouted old Master Huffington, brandishing his cudgel. "It's all haystacks!"

Tom pushed himself to his feet. He was thankful to see his boots in a spot that would have corresponded to the foot of the vanished bed, and his breeches and shirt near them. Donning his clothing quickly, he found his pack in the depths of the straw slipped it over one shoulder and moved off as discretely as he knew how- and in Tom's case, that was very stealthy indeed. It was obvious to him that he would not be getting any breakfast out of the kitchen this morning, no matter what he'd paid for last night. Best to be off and find it somewhere else.

He sighed a moment for the girl though. She was a tender thing, and so lovely, with those red, red lips, the whitest of skin, and raven hair... And she'd known just how to play with his tail.

Tom flicked a claw through his whiskers, twitched his ears, and set off, towards the Magic Forest Village.