Writing exercise 8: fairy tales

[StillStunned]

I like dark fairy tales. There's something about combining superficial innocence with sinister themes that appeals to me. When I was small I had a book of Russian fairy tales, and perhaps that scarred me and made me the well-adjusted individual I am today.

For this latest writing exercise, here's the prompt: write a section from a fairy tale. It doesn't matter whether it's from the beginning, the middle or the end. It doesn't matter whether it's an existing fairy tale or one you've just made up. But preferably at least hint at some darkness.

As usual, try to limit your snippet to about 300-ish words. We've been very lucky with the "no more than three paragraphs" rule, and hopefully the mods understand that paragraphs for online reading aren't anywhere near as long as traditional paragraphs. Still, particularly with fairy tales, let's be extra aware of Lit's other rules for publishing stories.

Have fun!

 

[StillStunned]

Here's mine:

===
In a small old house in a small old town lived a cobbler. All day and every day he toiled, working leather, sewing threads and hammering nails to make boots, shoes and sandals for the people of his small old town.

Though old, it wasn’t an important town. It lay on the edge of the Great Forest, far from the cities and palaces of the wealthy and powerful. Visitors were few, and strangers uncommon.

One day one such stranger walked into the cobbler’s workshop. She was tall and elegant, wearing a long black coat that buttoned up tight around her form and swept all the way to the dusty floor.

The cobbler looked up from his last and peered up at her, blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the open door. “Good day, Mistress,” he said in a voice dry from the leather dust. “How may I help you?”

The stranger did not answer immediately. Instead, she inspected the interior of the workshop with a look somewhere between disdain and disinterest. Her mouth was curled in what seemed to be a habitual sneer.

At length she spoke. “Boots.” Her voice was like a blade being stropped on a leather belt. “You must make me a pair of boots fit for meeting the King.”

The cobbler’s eyes went open in surprise. “Mistress, I’m just a humble shoemaker! What I make isn’t fit to wear before the King!”

Again, she did not reply immediately. Slowly she raised one foot until it rested on the cobbler’s last. The shoe on that foot was made of fine leather and embroidered with silk.

The long coat fell open, revealing a slender ankle, a slim calf, a well-shaped knee, and above it a bare thigh, pale and soft in the dim light of the cobbler’s workshop.

With an elegant finger, the stranger drew a line across the flesh of her thigh. Her sharp nail left a red mark. “Boots,” she repeated. “Boots that come up to here.”

 

[yowser]

Hans Frei and the Silver Buttplug
***

Hans walked by the same shop on Onanstrasse every morning on the way to university. Every day the same item caught his eye. Its silver gleaming surface, the smoothly rounded shape, the mere thought of it entering his tender nether regions, made his anus clench in anticipation.

Hans had never been daring, not once in his life. He lived alone in an upstairs garret, after his mother had died when he was ten, and his father six years later. Work in a merkin shop helped pay his way through university, carefully assembling the finest merkins in town. The shop’s clients were only the best. Reputedly even the daughter of the duchess had visited one day and made a selection.

But today as he passed the shop and stared in the window, with Fasching approaching, Hans felt a frisson of daring surge through his loins. The Silver Buttplug called to him, its siren song no longer to be denied.

He entered the shop, and with uncharacteristic flair, marched up to the counter. A matron with Pince-nez perched on her nose glanced up from a copy of the daily newspaper and regarded him with mild interest.

Words almost failed him but Hans rallied.

“I would like the gleaming silver item in your window, ma’am.” He spoke evenly, although his knees trembled. Perhaps the shopkeeper would not notice.

The shopkeeper regarded him not unkindly.

“Of course, young man. And what size would you prefer?”

Hans was stumped. The thought of a size different from the gleaming item in the window had never occurred to him.

The shopkeeper noted his hesitation.

“Very well. Why don’t you step around the counter into the back room and we can do a fitting? A common necessity for first timers.”

Hans gulped inaudibly, but made his way around the counter to the rear of the store.

 

[Hypnobitch01]

Never done one of these but excited to try my hand at it!

---

He woke in a chair, naked, arms and legs tied down and a blindfold over his eyes. He only knew he was awake because he heard three voices whispering. He lifted his head, and they stopped.

“Hello?” He said quietly.

“Oh, you’re awake.” One of the voices acknowledged.

The voice was low, and gruff. It sounded like leather, steel, and cigars.

“That chloroform wore off quickly.” Another softer voice said with disappointment.

This voice sounded like flannel and sponge cake.

“I want to play with him.” A sweet voice chirped.

This voice was sunny and electric.

“Come on, let's play!” The sunny voice interrupted.

“Go ahead baby.” The gruff voice encouraged.

He felt soft hands run through his hair.

“His hair is so soft!” The sunny voice whispered with reverence.

The other voices chuckled.

The hands started running down his chest, he felt teeth on his neck. He pulled away quickly, but firm rough hands grabbed him and held him still. The soft hands brushed his thighs. Another set of hands were on his cheeks.

Lips met his and a tongue entered his mouth. He almost choked. The soft hands were now on his balls. They slowly massaged them, making him moan against his will. Could he be enjoying this?

The rough hand was on his shaft. It stroked him hard. He felt himself slipping into ecstasy. The lips and tongue broke away.

“That’s a good boy.” The soft voice praised.

The lips met his again. The growing need filled him. He needed to finish. The hands on his balls and cock, and the lips on his sped up, they felt hungry.

“Go ahead blondie.” The gruff voice assured.

He finished, and the hands pulled away.

Then he heard three sets of footsteps and an opening door.

Then it closed.

 

[StillStunned]

Hans Frei and the Silver Buttplug

In some parts of Europe I think this one is known as "The Merkin and the Buttplug".

 

[StillStunned]

Never done one of these but excited to try my hand at it!

I want to know who the voices are...

 

[mrs_mackenzie]

The King had three fair daughters; the youngest was charming; the middle was cleverest; but the eldest was the fairest of all. When princes and dukes visited the kingdom, they all had eyes for the eldest.

The middle princess, desiring to draw their attention, went to the Wicked Witch and begged for the men to notice her.

“Child, I can work this magic, but the man you most desire will not notice you.”

Now visitors to the kingdom were astonished by the beauty and grace of the middle princess, who outshone her sisters in every way. She adored their attentions and attended ball after ball, never wanting for a dance partner. But when Prince Handsome rode into the kingdom on his white steed, he merely saw a plain, dull princess who did not catch his eye.

“Oh Wicked Witch, what must I do to have Prince Handsome’s attention?” the middle princess asked.

“Child, the magic you are under can be undone, but at a price. He will court you and wed you; but on your wedding night, he will only be able to think of another.”

The middle princess, blinded by the prospect of wedding Prince Handsome, agreed quickly, and a whirlwind romance between her and the gallant Prince quickly led to the happy day of their wedding and the uniting of their two kingdoms.

Giggling and blushing, the bride was led by her new husband up to the bedchamber after the revelry, the Witch’s conditions forgotten. But when the door was opened, there sat the Witch herself, the old crone occupying her marital bed.

“Begone, witch!” the princess cried, but she was overtaken by the prince, who rushed to the Witch, kissed her, and roughly tore away her black cloak.

“My prince…” the princess whispered, watching and silently weeping.

 

[StillStunned]

“My prince…” the princess whispered, watching and silently weeping.

It's such a shame they had to cut the "Cuck Princess" sequence from the Hans Christian Andersen movie.

 

[SimonDoom]

The Brazen Little Tailor

One day a little tailor smashed seven flies that had alighted on his jam sandwich in one strike of his hand.

"Seven in one blow!" he cried loudly. "I am prodigious!"

A seamstress outside his window heard him. "Seven at one time!" she said to herself, amazed. "What a man! I must tell my sisters." The seamstress had six sisters, and the seven of them were starved for male companionship and horny, for the kingdom was at war, and many of the eligible men of the country were off fighting in a faraway country.

The seamstress and her six sisters came to the little tailor and begged him to please them. The tailor thought about her request, and told her to return with her sisters the next day. He laid out a long piece of metal, with seven metal attachments, and he placed it on chairs so they stood about waist high. The next day the seamstress and her sisters returned, and he bade them raise their skirts and press their womanly parts against the attachments. Then the tailor pretended to recite an enchantment, whipping the seven women into a frenzy, and at last he whipped out his manhood and struck it against the metal piece, and the vibration that resulted brought all seven sisters to an orgasm at once.

The skill of the brazen little tailor was the talk of the kingdom. Soon a courier from the king approached the little tailor, and he was invited to the king's castle. He appeared before the king on his throne.

"My seven daughters are all of marrying age," the king explained, "But I fear they are not ready. I must make good matches for them to secure peace for the kingdom."

"I know what to do, your majesty," the brazen little tailor said. "For I have had seven at one blow."

It was arranged, and the brazen little tailor lay with each of the princesses, plundering and ravaging them as he pleased. And when he was done he let the word go forth that never in the kingdom's history had seven such women been so ready for matrimony.

Princes lined up to get them, and the king married off all his daughters to his satisfaction, save one, which the little tailor regarded as the prettiest. The king gave her to the little tailor as a reward, and a nice castle by the sea, where the little tailor and the pretty princess spent the rest of their days in never-ending debauchery and rented out the west wing of the castle via Air BnB.

 

[ChuckWolf]

Sorry for going way over the word limit; I think I may finish this one.

The Proud Prince

Sword in hand and knocking aside guards, the Prince stormed into the throne room, startling the many guests there. Guests paying fealty to the evil Queen Of Crimson.

Sitting lazily on the royal throne, the Queen Of Crimson sat up and snapped her fingers. The musicians stopped playing.

Dressed in a shiny red leather bodysuit with matching high-heeled boots and an ornate brass crown, the Queen smiled, displaying her high-cheekbones and a dazzling white smile framed by her ruby-red lips and long lashes.

"How delightful everyone, the Prince himself has come to pay me tribute!

"I am here to end your reign!" the Prince rebuked.

Suddenly, a glowing red collar materialized around the Prince's neck, followed by manacles of the same nature materializing around his wrists and ankles. The restraints pulled his arms and legs wide, forcing the Prince to stand spread-eagled.

Having performed her act of sorcery, the Queen said, "How rude! You disrupt my party, uninvited and empty-handed," she admonished, "Well, since you didn't bring me a present, I've decided that you'll be the present, and, there's nothing I love more than unwrapping my presents!"

Suddenly, the Prince's clothing vanished and he stood there completely nude in front of the Queen and his subjects that he had sworn to protect.

The Prince tried to cover himself, but the red restraints kept him immobile and spread-eagled. The prince screamed in anger and humiliation.

"Your highness, you have a magnificent body! Don't be shy, turn around, let everyone have a good look at you!"

The restraints forced the Prince to turn and display himself to the raucous crowd, catcalling and laughing at him.

It can't get any worse than this the Prince thought. He would be wrong.

"Kneel."

The restraints forced him to kneel.

The Queen's eyebrow raised. "Now, pleasure yourself. In front of everyone."

 

[Djmac1031]

I don't have any 300 word paragraph yet, but i do have a title:

The Princess And The Pea-nis.

 

[yowser]

Goldilocks and the Three Cocks
****

Once upon a time there were three studs, who lived together in a house near Mindlove College where they studied. One stud was little; Rodney was middle-sized; and the third was great and huge.

At college everyone agreed that Goldilocks was the cutest girl. Her light curly hair bounced when she walked, and a smile always graced her face.

She had an open invitation to visit Rodney’s home but Goldie was shy.

“Any time you want!” Rodney said.

On her way home one day a colossal rainstorm arose. Rodney’s front door was nearby. Goldie knocked and entered, calling out with no answer.

She wandered until the last room, where she found the three studs.

“Goldilocks! We’ve been hoping you’d come!”

Goldilocks was shy, all of them were handsome.

“Goldie! A mitzvah! You have three choices of pleasure.”

“Have a seat,” urged Rodney, hoisting up her skirt and removing her drawers. Goldie was too shocked to react.

The studs rubbed their jeans, excitement beginning to show.

The littlest stood in front of Goldie, dropped his drawers and a small, skinny erect penis poked forth.

“Try it,” said Rodney.

The penis slipped up Goldie’s channel easily. He pushed vigorously but Goldie said “I feel nothing!”

The big stud approached. His erection was gargantuan. A cock-head half the size of Goldie’s fist.

He pushed and pushed but couldn’t get it past Goldie’s moist pussy lips.

Then it was Rodney. His member was handsome, damp at the tip and slid up splendidly.

“Ah!” said Goldie, and they fucked.

“A-ha!” said Goldie. “I’m close!” Her hips wiggled.

“Ai-yee!” she cried and climaxed.

Rodney gave a last push. His cock came out glistening, a pearl of sperm at the tip that dripped onto Goldie’s curly, matted cunt hairs.

“Just right!” said Goldilocks.

 

[StillStunned]

I don't have any 300 word paragraph yet, but i do have a title:

The Princess And The Pea-nis.

If it can keep her awake through a dozen mattresses, it must be quite the peanis!

Sorry for going way over the word limit; I think I may finish this one.

Perhaps next year we should organise a Fairy Tale challenge instead of Pandemonium.

 

[Bazzle]

I don't have any 300 word paragraph yet, but i do have a title:

The Princess And The Pea-nis.

Does she end up with a hard ham and cheese Penini? (that was bad...sorry)

​

 

[StillStunned]

Does she end up with a hard ham and cheese Penini? (that was bad...sorry)

​

I think you misread Djmac's post. It wasn't "The Princess and the Pun-is".

 

[Bazzle]

I am going to cheat slightly...

I have basterdised a couple of fairy tales in the Bazzle style already.

Here is a section from https://www.literotica.com/s/ashley-a-smoking-fairy-tale

At three pm the large wooden front door banged open, slamming against the wall and the three women came laughing and giggling back in through the front door. They were in high spirits. They had clearly been to the pub for lunch, as well as the hairdressers, and the shops. All three were carrying several bags of new clothes. They dithered for a second at the bottom of the stairs before it dawned on the collective that they urgently needed to get ready, they were halfway there as they had all been to get their eyebrows, nails and hair done prior to this evening's extravagance.

"Ash!" Lady Tremaine boomed "Would have thought you would have done the floor already, take our bags from us, and you have missed a spot on the floor over there" she grizzled as they came through to the kitchen, "I really think it all needs to be done again, we would do it, but we need to get ready, but as you are not going out, you " she said as placed her bags in Mary's arms as she climbed off her hands and knees, once she was holding the bags Lady Tremaine flicked the long ash from her cigarette on to what was a clean glistening floor.

"Yes Lady, will do that right away for you"

"Good, are the bedrooms cleaned Ash?" she asked flicking more of her cigarette ash on to the floor.

"Yes mother" she nodded as she dutifully replied.

Lady Tremaine nodded "Excellent, come on girls lets go and get ready for the party!" she said nodding in the direction of Ella and Anna to go up the stairs; they were busy smirking and smoking in the hallway.

Mary took a deep breath and leaned forwards "Sorry Lady to interrupt, is there any chance I come with you tonight? Seeing as we were all invited?"

Lady Tremaine scoffed a degrading laugh, "I don't think you are really presentable state to meet the Charming's like this are you?" she said with an exaggerated dismissive arm wave at Mary throwing further ash from the cigarette all over the floor. "Plus what would you wear?" She rolled her eyes dismissively cackled before tilting her head back and inhaling deeply on her cigarette, and forcefully exhaling smoke down at Mary as she wobbled in her bright red 4" high heels.

 

[StillStunned]

“I’ll have you huffing,” said the Wicked Witch, and the Big Bad Wolf gulped as her fingers traced a path down his stomach.

“I’ll have you puffing,” said the Wicked Witch, and the Big Bad Wolf gulped again as she seized his swollen cock.

“And I’ll blow you away,” said the Wicked Witch, kneeling down and opening her mouth wide.

 

[Erozetta]

(Excerpt from an old piece that will likely never be posted here due to sexual violence in a different part.)

"Have you come to slay the witch of the château or bed the fair maiden trapped within its walls?" she asked, a playful tilt of her lips as she pushed herself deeper into the pool of water. Her long black hair swirling about her, creating the appearance of dark magics where he knew there were none.

"What if I've come to bed the witch and slay the maiden?" He knelt on the rocky ledge, his smile easy as he cocked his head.

There was a familiarity to him that she couldn't quite place. A fondness for him seemed natural, but she'd always regarded the adventurers who wandered into her garden with a certain amount of distrust. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

"Then you'd truly be my first." She lowered herself until her nose was beneath the clear water, her gaze remained locked on him. It was a curious encounter.

Most of the men who made it up the mountain would regard her with fear. The stories of her power to make the most godly of men into sexual deviants had traveled far and wide, but were greatly exaggerated.

The woman held no such powers, she was merely beautiful and men were weak. Even distorted beneath the water he could see her shapely curves highlighting a well-toned hourglass figure. Her thick, raven-black hair swirled about her right down to her feet. And her ruby toned lips contrasted beautifully against skin that was reminiscent of freshly fallen snow, smooth and creamy, though it held the slightest pink undertone. Then there were her eyes. Violet fading to lavender toward the center.

Looks could be deceiving, though. For he knew who she was and the appearance of a twenty-something young woman was merely the effect of being the daughter of a goddess. This young woman was centuries old, and he knew this because he was only a few years older than her when he helped her father escape his kingdom with her as a child.

To look upon her again after so long sent a chill through him. Pure fear, longing, and grief all at once.

It was akin to staring death in the face. Though, given the nature of his mission, he'd much prefer to be looking into the hollowed sockets of the reaper's eyes than the soft, alluring gaze of the girl he was once betrothed to.

 

[StillStunned]

It wasn’t much of a bridge, but it was Gwalla’s. “A troll needs a bridge of her own,” her mother always said. “A troll without a bridge is no better than a dwarf.”

Still, there were times when Gwalla wished it was a nicer bridge. Wider, to keep off more rain. Higher, so she didn’t have to sit hunched underneath, and even then the stream washed over her toes.

Busier would be nice, too. But this old road through the Forest saw few travellers anymore. Gone were the days when a merchant passed every week, and a woodsman or a farmwife almost every day. Now, Gwalla was lucky if she caught an unwary deer or badger.

So when the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves on the road reached her ears one morning, she almost didn’t recognise the sound. A traveller! And on a fine horse too.

Scrambling out from under the old stone arch, she peered over the edge. There! A dozen yards away, a handsome young man approached on the back of that fine horse.

He was not only handsome, he was richly dressed too. Gold stitching shone in the early sunlight, and gold and rubies glinted on his fingers.

Gwalla pulled herself up onto the bridge and stood before him. “Halt! If you want to cross my bridge, you have to pay the price!”

The young man pulled at his horse’s reins. There was concern on his face, but not alarm. “Good morning,” he called. “I must pass, so tell me the price.”

Gwalla had been about to demand the horse, but at the sound of his voice she hesitated. This really was a fine young man! His legs, dangling on either side of the horse’s flanks, were shapely and muscled, and the hands on the reins were strong and nimble.

She could do without horse meat for a while, she decided. What she wanted now was...

“A fuck!” She felt a leer spread across her face. “A fuck to cross my bridge.”

 

[TarnishedPenny]

Okay, a short doodle…

Once upon a time, almost as long ago and as far away as civilized sociopolitical discourse, there lived a young and innocent maiden.

Well, young in years and assuredly still a maiden, for her evil stepfather had interred her in St. Hypertrichosia’s Academy, a finishing school so strict that the school crest featured a snarling hyena stoutly tethered to the sword-belt of a stocky nun with a moustache.

You don’t want to ask.

Really.

The maiden, Veronica by name, passed in her time out of childhood, becoming a young woman whose appearance was reckoned as ‘sizzling’ even by the phalanx of Scowling Sisters of St. Hyper’s protecting her from boys, men and wandering auditors.

Now, ‘innocent’ is of course a word with many degrees of meaning. Veronica had long since hacked the restrictive passwords on the smart phone provided by St. Trixie’s. As but one consequence of that surreptitious reconnaissance of reality, her embroideries tended now to reflect a rather grainier view of life than that preferred by the schools’s Textiles Mistress.

Indeed, her imagination had led Ronnie to such levels of ‘artistic’ imagery as to require her works to be embroidered on asbestos and hung in a nitrogen-filled display case. The initial alternative had led to an as-yet unsettled lawsuit from the Managing Churl of the still-smoking civic dump.

Another consequence had been Veronica’s hasty expulsion from the school’s clay modelling class, for the semisentient kilns developed an embarrassing breakdown at what she presented for firing.

(Yes, the unfired examples were preserved under lock and key - for serious study, of course - by the Academy, but don’t ask about that, either.)

(Really.)

One day, the Mother Superior of the school was approached by a front-goblin for the Registered Independent Party. As the goblin explained it, he was looking for a prominent wall on which to affix his posters.

Charmed by his manners and encouraged only slightly by a surreptitious green-filled handshake, the Mother Superior…

 

[TheWritingGroup]

Well, young in years and assuredly still a maiden, for her evil stepfather had interred her in St. Hypertrichosia’s Academy, a finishing school so strict that the school crest featured a snarling hyena stoutly tethered to the sword-belt of a stocky nun with a moustache.

Were you aware that female hyenas have clitorises bigger than the penises of the males? (The first time they give birth, the hyperclit tends to be badly damaged because the birth canal runs through the clitoris.) I am not making this up.

-Annie

 

[TheRedChamber]

“A fuck!” She felt a leer spread across her face. “A fuck to cross my bridge.”

It turned out that she was just trolling him.

Were you aware that female hyenas have clitorises bigger than the penises of the males? (The first time they give birth, the hyperclit tends to be badly damaged because the birth canal runs through the clitoris.) I am not making this up.

-Annie

Yes you are! And I refuse to do any more research, talk or even think about this any further!

 

[TarnishedPenny]

Were you aware that female hyenas have clitorises bigger than the penises of the males? (The first time they give birth, the hyperclit tends to be badly damaged because the birth canal runs through the clitoris.) I am not making this up.

-Annie

Well, thanks for that. You can rock me to sleep tonight!

 

[Erozetta]

A take of Beauty and the Beast I'm working on:

“But,” she added weakly as her son slid over to her and placed his hands firmly over the oozing fatal wound his knife had made, “if you should find a woman who can see beneath the beastly mirage to the kind boy you were before today, the curse will be broken. It will be difficult, though not impossible, my boy. Each day that passes and you see yourself as a beast, you will feel more and more like that creature. You will harden and become cruel and you will hate yourself for it. You will lash out and make it ever so difficult for anyone to love you.”

A deep whining cry distracted her and her eyes shifted to the injured, his father's favored child.

She sneered at Adam's wailing brother, “Oh, shut up, would you? It'll scar but it barely even tore your flesh you sniveling little brat.”

Then she laughed again, her hand reaching out to her fairer son, coating his cheek in her blood. “And the price of the love you find will be your brother's life. The full curse will not be lifted until he draws his last breath.”

The door began to fracture and she released her son. “Now run to the house and hide. They see you only as a beast and you will be blamed for the death and devouring of young Adam and the maiming of Andrew at my behest. Your brother will only remember the beast that slayed his twin.”

Adam's eyes lifted to the men who burst through the door, guns raised and poised at him. He dove beneath the bed as the shots rang out and hurried to the window. The trellis outside had been an escape from his overbearing brother for years, so he didn't hesitate to swing out the window and quickly make his way down into the garden.

He ran and ran for what felt like miles as he traversed the maze and gardens. He didn't stop until he collapsed inside the carriage house, where he was greeted by the bewildered face of his young nanny and her husband, his butler. Their lips were stitched shut and a pallid appearance to their once olive-toned flesh made the boy cringe.

Were they even alive?

 

[StillStunned]

I'm definitely thinking that next year we do a fairy tale challenge!