Happy Normal Birthday!
It’s time once again to celebrate our favorite Brit’s birthday, Megan from VeryNormal!
I’ll admit to having a heck of a time trying to figure out how to top last year’s send off, but this year I think I’ve got it covered. When I imagined what I’d likely be doing if I were in England right now, the answer became instantly clear. Why I’d be drinking, of course. So this year I’ve decided to create a drink specifically for our Megan, and name it accordingly. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you:
The Induced American
Named because you will likely be driving on the wrong side of the road after you knock one of these babies back. Here’s the recipe:
Ingredients (sorry they aren’t metric)
1 very thin sliver habanero pepper (because she is so spicy!)
2 slices fresh ginger root (because I like her with red hair best)
1 1/2 fluid ounces gin (because gin is British)
3/4 fluid ounce lime juice (because…well, because I like lime juice)
1/2 fluid ounce simple syrup (because she is so sweet!)
1 cup ice cubes (just because)
Directions
Muddle habanero pepper slice and 2 slices fresh ginger together in a cocktail shaker until pulverized, about 20 seconds. Add gin, lime juice, simple syrup, and ice. Cover and shake until well chilled. Strain with a fine mesh strainer into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a thin slice of ginger on a toothpick. Drink a toast to Megan and the Queen!
Happy Birthday, Megan! Have a drink for me!
TO WISH MEGAN A HAPPY BIRTHDAY VISIT:
FOR THE FULL COCKTAIL LIST VISIT:
It’s the Easter Bunn–uh…Wallaby?
Spring has finally sprung, and with it our interview with everyone’s childhood favorite, the Easter Bunny.
Determined to get an interview with this elusive holiday icon, I cornered him in his underground den and discovered something I’d not expected. I open today’s interview with the question that should have been asked ages ago:
HE: Say…you aren’t really a bunny, are you?
EB: Well Maybe it is time to come clean, if you wanna call me a Bunny go ahead but being a Bunny is not very useful when you deliver eggs is it! I am a Wallaby, you see, I can put all the eggs in my pouch and then I don’t have to go back and forth with my basket. I am all about convenience, you know what I mean.
HE: What made you decide to color and hide eggs?
EB: Shots. In my College years (I did not do much studying) my friends and I enjoyed colorful shots. So I now pick colors by having a shot, coloring an egg, different coloured shot, and different colored eggs. The hiding part is a long story about my friend and his … well it’s a long story.
HE: How do you feel about children eating chocolate likenesses of you?
EB: As we have just been through, I am not a Bunny, never will be because it will never be practical! So the Kiddywinks can eat as many chocolate bunnies as they please.
HE: How do you feel about sharing a holiday with Jesus?
EB: My mum once told me that story, I did not really understand it, and I mean it’s a bit gloomy for a Holiday all about the Kids, you know? Plus to me, chocolate crosses would be awful to make and color, all that blood and gore is for Halloween, not my holiday.
HE: Is there more than one Easter Bunny?
HE: Did you want to be an Easter Bunny when you were a kid…uh, a joey?
EB: No, as I have said I went to College, I just didn’t do well, this was my fall back, I wanted to be a Football Mascot but I do not think there is much call for a Wallaby, maybe if I was a Dolphin or A Ram! I mean have you ever heard of a Wallaby before today?! Do you even know what I look like?!
HE: What do you do when you aren’t hiding eggs?
EB: Nothing, I drink, I try and think of new ideas for next year but with 5 joeys at home and one on the way, thinking does not happen a lot.
Thank you, Easter Bun–Wallaby, for this timely and insightful interview. Return April 22nd as we celebrate Earth Day with none other that Gaia herself!
It’s….CUPID!!!
As Valentine’s Day approaches I thought it only appropriate to interview the most wanted man, uh…boy in the world. I’m talking about the one, the only….CUPID.
CUPID – Pleasure to be here. Despite this being my busy time of year, I can always find time for you H.E., you helped my blog become what it is today and for that my heart is ever at your service…..You know, if you wanted I could set you up with somebody? I still feel bad about your last relationship. In my defense though, you were the one who fucked that up. Cupid’s arrow is rarely wrong and sometimes you got to give a little to get a little if you know what I mean….
***** So tell the readers, what is the hardest part being the God of Desire?
CUPID – The hardest part? My cock.
* silence *
Nah, I’m just fucking with you. Nothing like a little dirty humor to lighten the mood. Seriously though, the hardest part has got to be humanity. Fifty years ago this would not have been my answer, I mean, fifty years ago people knew how to make a commitment to one another. Now everyone is so needy and expects so much from the person they are with, no one knows how to stay in anything longer than a few years. Its sad really. I blame the hippie generation for this. All that free love fucked up real love for the rest of you. Well, that and women’s lib. Give me the days where I just shot a guy with love and never had to worry about what the woman wanted, because if she didn’t go with the guy I shot then he would just take her. It sounds bad but god-damn it made my job easier.
***** What’s with the bow and arrow?
CUPID – Are you serious? They’re fucking magic, that’s what! It brings forth love and happiness and shit to all that the arrows pierce….Whats with the….Look, if you find a magic shotgun for sale then I’ll buy it, but since there is no such thing, I’ll stick to my bow and arrow thank you very much..
***** How does love in the twenty-first century differ from say, the Renaissance period?
CUPID – Two words, E- Harmony. Them and all those other find love web sites that have popped up since the internet began. Back in the good ole days you didn’t have to fill out a twenty questions exam to get shacked up with somebody, you trusted my arrow to make the right connection. Now though, since these computer cupids have shown up, love is down, STDs are up and the murder rate in Juarez, Mexico has skyrocketed.
That last one has nothing to do with what we are talking about, I just got done reading a book about Juarez and that crap just keeps slipping out, sorry. You get my…..shit….what was my point…….Oh yeah, the Renaissance! It was different.
***** Have you ever missed an intended target?
CUPID – (long pause) On the record, no. Off the record, fuck yeah.
Look, it’s not easy, this job I mean. Its a ton of pressure for one God,you people are so fucking needy, especially you women. From now on, why not just say what it is you’re really looking for in a guy. First off, sense of humor is not that fucking important to you, so stop saying it first. It would make my job and your connection to your true love so much easier to make.That being said, I’ve fucked up here and there throughout time….Do I regret doing it? No, I rack it up to learning experiences…….I do feel bad about Whitney Houston though, I never should have introduced her to Bobby. That was my bad and for that I apologize.
Otherwise, mistakes or no mistakes, once that arrow hits you it’s no longer my problem. Love can happen anywhere, but I can only do so much, it’s up to you to make it work. Here’s an example, that teacher that slept with her student a few years back. You remember, right? She slept with him, got pregnant, got busted, got fired, got jail time, had the baby, got out of jail and then, got back together with him. That’s dedication people. It’s also a tale of love through the toughest of obstacles. What she did was wrong, there’s no doubt about it, I messed that one up, but in the end the love prevailed. All you humans see are the bad things in the people that I hook you up with, somehow you stop seeing the good after being with someone awhile. I never understood this, because the second you break it off, suddenly all you remember are the good qualities, the things that were always there but you would look past. Everyone fights, everyone has issues, it’s up to you to work past them and make it last. Not me.
***** Mythology tells us you inherited this job from your mother, Venus. Tell me, how did it feel growing up with the original MILF as your mom?
CUPID- My mother only talked to me when she wanted something from me. She is a vain, manipulative, alcoholic and I hated growing up with her as a mom. Did you ever see the movie Mommy Dearest? Imagine that but in God form, that’s how my childhood was. I’ve got so many issues because of her I had to cancel my subscription. We haven’t seen each other in years.
***** The identity of your father has never been made public, although Mars has been a popular suspect throughout history. How true are the rumors that you are scheduled to appear on an episode of THE MAURY POVICH SHOW with the intent to confront him with a paternity test?
CUPID- What? Where did you hear that? Of course it’s not true! There’s no need. I found out years ago who my real father was and it certainly wasn’t Mars. No, no, my father lives in Florida, his name is Dale Gibbons and he’s a retired nightclub owner from Miami. Cool guy actually.
***** Was it difficult growing up as an obese child with obvious bladder control problems?
CUPID – All those paintings and sculptures were taken when I was going through a growth stage of my life. Look at me now! Fit, tan and with 12 pack abs. Do I look anything like those pictures? No. I worked hard to get past those looks. Jenny Craig helped of course, but it was mostly me and my dedication to get fit that did it.
And as far as the bladder control goes, I don’t know where that got started. I never wore a diaper, I always went in the nude back then. Censorship is a bitch. Some people can’t handle the male nude form so you got to cover it up, that’s where the diaper comes in.
***** Fill us in on your unfortunate accident where you accidentally shot yourself and fell in love with Psyche?
CUPID – You’re getting these questions from Wikipedia, right? See, that’s why you don’t trust a user controlled reference site, they get it all wrong usually. Okay, you want the real story between me and Psyche? Here goes…
My mom comes to me one day complaining about this chick, saying she’s taking all her worshipers and shit. So mom asks me to go over to this girls place and make her fall in love with the most vile thing I could think of. High as a kite and pissed off because I was in the middle of a game when I was summoned, Saints Row 3 I think, we get all the games before humans do, its one of the perks of being a God, I grabbed my bow and arrows and flew over to her house.
As I’m sneaking into her room I’m trying my best to be extra quiet, but you know how when you’re trying to be quiet every sound is amplified, like, a thousand times? Well that’s what was happening in that room. Every step seemed to cascade through the whole house, and me being high certainly didn’t help.
Finally I get real close to her and start to pull out an arrow, as I’m doing this, her little Min Pin comes running up, yapping the whole way. It scared the shit out of me and I dropped the arrow. I hated that dog. Twinkles was his name. Can you believe that? The dog was totally gay too, he used to try and hump one of the guards dogs, a big German Shepard named KrissKross, it was hilarious.
Anyway, I dropped my arrow and it scraped her foot. Not me like Wikipedia would have you believe, but hers. She wakes up, bing, bang, boom, she sees me, falls in love and hasn’t left me alone since.
In the beginning it was cool. I would sneak over for some late night tail and scurry off again, but after a while it started to get a little stale. I think she saw how I was feeling and figured that the only way to keep me around was to get pregnant. When I found out I was pissed! I totally wasn’t ready to be a dad, I’m still not but it is what it is. In the end we are all responsible for our actions and so I had a kid with her. If you’re looking for morals that’s about as good as it gets. Wrap that shit unless you want a world of shit. Either that or stick to stickin’ the back door, if you get my drift.
***** So, is the God of Desire dating anyone at the moment?
CUPID – Jen Aniston. Six months now. It’s nice I guess.
RETURN MONDAY FOR A PRESIDENT’S DAY SPaM AND MY INTERVIEW WITH A MYSTERY GUEST!!!
It’s Groundhog Day!
In keeping with the month-old tradition of holiday icon interviews I am pleased to bring you a sit down with the original weatherman himself. Today we dig deeper into the mind and home of none other than…The Groundhog.
Good morning…uh, what should I call you? Groundhog seems so formal.
*snicker* “I’ve been called a hog before, but only when I’m slow on the pass, heh. My World of Warcraft toon (character name) is ‘PudgyBits.’”
Alright…Pudgy Bits. I see you have internet access in your, uh…hole?
“The ladies call it my “Love Shack” but I call it home. Yeah, it’s a sweet set-up I’ve got here. Totally juiced. Lots of space, fridge full of Hot Pockets. Everything paid for by the Man.”
What is it the “Man” pays you to do, exactly?
“Exactly? Exactly once a year I climb out my hole, look around, do a little dance for the paparazzi, take a photo op with a Kardashian, you know the drill. It’s a good gig.”
So tell me, how does one become an official Groundhog?
“All groundhogs became official groundhogs once we won the contract from the Honey Badger Union because they, well, you know…just didn’t care. They’re crazy if you ask me. Lots of fringe benefits to this gig. I’m not afraid to say I’ve made a bit of cash on the side for selling…uh, local herbs.”
You aren’t suggesting….
“Suggesting what? That the government won’t let a groundhog earn a decent wage? It’s a conspiracy, man! What else am I supposed to do to supplement my income? Wear a tie like some corporate lemming? God put herbs here on earth for me. The Man can’t outlaw nature.”
Speaking of laws; are the rumors true that you allegedly received monies from a Mississippi Senator to drive up tourism from the north by falsely claiming six more weeks of winter?
“Wait…Sena-what? Is that who that dude was? Geez man, I don’t know. The dude was talking all weird and shit, like Deputy Dawg. Heh heh. You ever see that show? Funny as hell. One time me and my buddy Irish got totally baked and watched…wait, what were we talking about?”
Accusations of taking a bribe to throw Groundhog Day.
“Oh riiiight...yeah, I don’t remember much about that day. There was some kind of fungus growing on the grass that messed me up good. Saw my shadow everywhere…”
Alright, what does a groundhog do for the remaining 364 days of the year?
“You’re lookin’ at it man…uh, lady. I chill in my “lair” and get my WoW on. I just got my level 72 Death knight’s frost spec up to 32 so I can use howling blast and pown PVP kids. That way I can raise my conquest points and buy my 347 B.O.A. gear. Whoa, did I just say that?”
Ok…I can’t believe I’m going to ask this but…is there a “lady” groundhog in your life?
“Oh no. I’m not making that mistake again. Last female I met online tried to eat me. Literally. I’m working on a restraining order as we speak, so yeah, look around. I’m staying right here.”
*in bursts female honey badger, irate and charging* “OH HEEEELLL NAH-O! WHO IS THIS BITCH??”
*Groundhog jumps back, waving paws wildly* “WAIT! SHE’S NOT–”
*Honey badger shoves him aside and then turns toward me* “Oh I know she’s not. Skinny little female needs to step away from my man. That’s MY hog, BITCH!” *spins back around to groundhog* “And where the hell is my money?? You best get to rollin’ some clover before I eat your ass. I’ll roll ya and smoke ya myself. I’m a Honey Badger, fool. I don’t give a shit.”
*while she is distracted I scramble out of the hole.*
FOR MORE GROUNDHOG GOODNESS, VISIT POLYSYLLABIC PROFUNDITIES!
WANT MORE INTERVIEWS? PICK UP A COPY OF ICONIC INTERVIEWS TO BENENFIT LIBSTRONG!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
Yes, you are correct, it is my birthday. I know this to be true because I follow Edward Hotspur’s blog and El Guapo’s blog and Ginger’s blog and Sandy’s blog (as well as kind email wishes from Trask Avenue, LeClown, and many a sweet comment from my good friends John E. and PMAO). All better blogs than mine, because quite honestly I completely forgot it was my birthday until I read them. Wait…more to the truth I forgot again that it was my birthday since my kick-arse British friend Megan wished me a Happy Birthday the night before (suck it, HR and Elias. She beat you to it).
It’s been through these good people that I’ve made even more friends today, and perhaps have even sold a book or two. That being said, I am not sure mere words can describe what all your birthday wishes mean to me. Without knowing me personally, you may not understand what a Dickensian upbringing I had, and how kind words and well wishes I never received as a child mean the world to me now. You have all become my family, and I am grateful for each and every one of you. Thank you for sharing my day.
Iconic Interviews – The Book!
For those of you who just can’t get enough of the holiday spirit, consider purchasing the collaborative blogger eBook:
ICONIC INTERVIEWS - The world’s most beloved holiday icons presented in a collection of irreverent interviews that take on the backstory of their imagined existences.
Your favorite bloggers are interviewed as iconic holiday characters, each one zanier than the next. All proceeds from the purchase of this book are donated to the bloggers collective project known as Wrists Around The World. For a free copy of this eBook as well as additional works from H.E. Ellis visit: www.wristsaroundtheworld.com
AVAILABLE IN EBOOK FORMAT THROUGH SMASHWORDS
AVAILABLE IN EBOOK FORMAT THROUGH AMAZON
AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK THROUGH AMAZON
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I’D LIKE TO THANK THE FOLLOWING BLOGGERS FOR THEIR GENEROUS CONTRIBUTION:
It’s Groundhog Day!
Joseph Wakefield as the Groundhog
It’s Cupid!
Talker96 as Cupid
Inaugural Spam
Joseph Wakefield as President Roosevelt
Michael Wakefield as President Jefferson
H.R. Nightmare as President Washington
H.E. Ellis as President Lincoln
Interview with the King of the Leprechauns
Michael Wakefield as Fergus O’Malley
I Prank You Not
H.R. Nightmare as Loki the Trickster
It’s the Easter Bunn- er, Wallaby?
Megan Stephenson as the Easter Wallaby
Earth Day Interview with Gaia
Sandylikeabeach as Gaia
It’s Flagulous!
Sparklebumps as Betsy Ross
It’s Time For Father Time!
Trask Avenue as Father Time
SciFi Face Off!
Sightsnbytes as Captain James T. Kirk
Dayton Ward as Captain Jean Luc Picard
Andiamo Columbus!
Viva Italia as Christopher Columbus
Interview With The Werewolf
S. Quinn Shaw as the Werewolf
Turkey Incognito
Edward Hotspur as Tom Turkey
Interview with Frosty the Snowman
Archon’s Den as Frosty the Snowman
Interview with LeMonjello Otis
TrailerTrashDeluxe as LeMonjello Otis
Interview with Brown Shugga
KayJai as Brown Shugga
Interview with Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer
PouringMyArtOut as Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer
Santa’s Shame Spiral Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
BrainRants as Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus and Lipschitz the Elf
THANK YOU ALL AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Just in time for the holiday season comes the latest installment of our F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES courtesy of the one and only Sparklebumps!
The Emperor’s New Clothes (otherwise entitled A Woman Scorned)
Once upon a time, there lived a very beautiful boy who longed to be king and live in great finery. This would have been all well and good, except for the fact that he was the bastard son of a peasant, and there were no chances for boys such as him. So he grew up always looking in shop windows and coveting the fine silks and satins that were displayed in them.
One day, the boy (who was becoming a young man by this time) was hauling cow dung to the nudey community on the other side of the village, and as he passed the shop window, he looked inside. This time, instead of wishing for the fabulous duds inside, he spied the shopkeeper’s daughter, who was also very beautiful, and fell instantly in love with her because she produced in his pants the same reaction that fine fabric did.
He entered the shop, went right up to the gorgeous girl, and planted a kiss on her berry-colored lips. At first, she was taken aback by the force of his passion (and the fact that he wore d’odour du cow shit)but then she realized what an amazing kisser he was and her knees became weak with want. She kissed him back, and when they were both breathless, she took his hand and led him to the back room of the shop. The young man looked around and saw that he was surrounded by garments of the chicest style and materials. He was so overcome with desire, from the kissing and the clothing both, that he prematurely ejaculated.
“Aaaaahhhhhrrrrgggh,” He groaned as he shivered with pleasure. The shopkeeper’s daughter looked at him curiously.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” She held out her hand to steady the man.
“Um…er. It’s nothing. I just find you so sexy, and I have a passion for fashion, so I’m just overwhelmed.” He flushed bright red and his eyes darted nervously around, as he hoped she wouldn’t notice the wet stain on his pants. Her touch was already making him hard again, so she hadn’t noticed his deflated… ahem, ego. He pressed his body against her once more, and gripped her buttocks so firmly that she cried out, and responded by loosening the ties on his breeches.
They proceeded to fuck each other senseless throughout the night, and the girl only wondered about the wet spot on the man’s pants for a moment before drifting off into a perfectly-sated, sexy-dream filled sleep.
As the sun rose, the gorgeous boy awoke with a start and realized he had never delivered the shit to the nudey community.
He jumped up, and ran out of the shop, to where his wheelbarrow of crap sat, undisturbed. He hurried on his way, never once letting the girl he’s just de-virginized know where he was going, or if he’d be back.
On the way to the nudey community, the boy passed a grand procession, and as he maneuvered his shit out of the way, the Empress inside one of the wagons admired his beauty, and also his ass. She stopped the procession with a slight snap of her fingers,and whispered something to her head man.
“Hey, you! Pretty boy! Stop right there!” The man cried out in authority.
The boy froze, certain he was about to be beheaded for offending royalty with the stench of his cow dung, and turned slowly to face the wagons. He was too afraid to speak.
“The Empress is pleased by you. Come forward.” The boy stepped gingerly toward the ornate carriage, but stopped when he heard a voice like the tinkling of bells.
“Do you long for power? Wealth and finery? Do you dream of having loyal subjects to do your bidding?”
The boy’s jaw dropped, for these were the very things he daydreamed about.
“Yes!” He said vehemently.
There was a giggle, adn then the curtain was drawn back on the wagon and the lovely exotic face of the Empress appeared.
“And what would you do, my sweet boy, to gain all of these things? Would you be willing to be tied up and allow me to paddle that beautiful bottom of yours til it’s pink and sore? Would you allow my teeth to graze your nipples and your innocent member without promise of your own release?” She raised an eyebrow.
The boy contemplated an S and M relationship with an Empress, and couldn’t see any bad angles of the arrangement, so he responded with a confidence he didn’t necessarily possess.
“My queen, my all, I would allow even the largest of your strap-on dildos to invade my anal crevice if you could make me powerful and wealthy.”
The Empress grinned broadly, for she had every intention of doing that very thing to her next submissive. With only a look, the boy was shepherded into the carriage, and the Empress wasted no time in beginning her training. The boy was shackled to the roof of the wagon, and he watched his wheelbarrow of crap and the shopkeeper’s daughter fade into the distance as the Empress sucked furiously on his cock.
The boy did so well as a submissive, that when the Empress died, she bequeathed to him the whole kingdom, and he became so obsessed with fashion that he would spare no expense to obtain every style that arose.
Because the boy was so beautiful, and so obsessed with his wardrobe, he would spend every moment in his dressing room admiring himself in front of many mirrors, front and back. While in most kingdoms, when someone would ask where the Emperor was, the normal response was, “He is in his statesroom.”, in this kingdom, the servants would say, “He is in his dressing room.” The Emperor was so self-obsessed that he would host fashion week, and insisted on modeling all the newest fashions himself. Masses of horny women and gay men would flock to the kingdom to admire the fine Emperor and his fabulous duds.
Our story truly begins as the Emperor searches high and low for the most daring and creative of clothing designers to feature at fashion week. He shook his head ruefully when his servants suggested such designers as Betsey Johnson and Alexander McQueen. He wanted someone who would shock the masses and make them insanely jealous of his frocks. His servants whispered amongst themselves while the Emperor racked his brain.
“What are you idiots muttering about? Do you realize that fashion week approaches , and I haven’t one designer who’s designs make my prick hard? What are we to do?” The emperor raged.
One brave lad stepped forward. “My lord, there is one who may be just the designer you seek, though there are stories that all who hire her are susceptible to her spell. She has left a string of broken-hearted royalty across many lands.”
“Pshaw,” the Emperor scoffed. “You needn’t be concerned on that front. Do you not know by now that my desire is only for fashion? I think not even a magical pussy would cause my manhood to rise. Find this fabled designer, and bring her to me.”
The servants scurried like mice in every direction then, embarrassed for the Emperor and the fact that no woman could get it up for him.
An envoy was sent out to find the talked of designer, and returned with her in no time.
Now this designer, when presented to the Emperor, DID in fact create a reaction in his pants when he gazed upon her. He found her oddly familiar, yet couldn’t recall where he had seen her before. Years of being tied up and spanked by the Empress had made him forget his first sexual encounter- that with the shopkeeper’s daughter. If he had remembered this, he would have realized she and this lovely designer were one in the same.
After she had been de-virginized and left alone, the shopkeeper’s daughter vowed to shame the boy who had popped her cherry just as he had shamed her. She worked day and night, becoming a well-respected maker of high fashion, fueling her designs with the rage she felt at being abandoned that day.
Her hard work was about to pay off, because she saw that the emperor did not recognize her. She gave him a flirtatious smile and bowed graciously. The Emperor beckoned to her, and insisted at once that she show him her latest designs.
The woman tilted her head and spoke.
“Dear Emperor, I have no designs to show you, for the collection I’ve been working on is very magical indeed. It must be made of the finest cloth, from the richest silk worms in the world. And it must be encrusted with the most shining of gemstones. But once the design is woven, it can only be seen by the man that is worthy of the position he holds. If he cannot see it, it proves that he is indeed an unworthy fool, and must be fired.”
Now any unfoolish person would know that this story sounded like complete poppycock, but the Emperor was so vain that he could not distinguish truth from a lie. So he sent his men to the furthest reaches of the land to procure the finest silks and clearest gemstones to provide the designer with. Upon receiving the goods, the designer would secretly tuck everything into her trunks to save for her real collection, and then she would set to work on her sewing machine without a stitch of thread strung though it. The Emperor’s servants saw her working on the clothes that weren’t there, and became distraught at the idea that they were fools unworthy of their station, and so remained silent.They murmured amongst themselves, until the whole kingdom was murmuring about the invisible clothes. The emperor was so impatient after hearing the rumors, that he insisted on checking out the clothes immediately.
When he entered the sewing chamber, the designer smiled delightfully, so that the Emperor’s manhood grew quite hard.
“Have you come for a fitting, my lord?” She asked innocently.
“Ahem… er, ah, yes. I’m ready to see the fine designs.” The Emperor began to grow nervous, because he was seeing no clothing to try on, and was a bit afraid the servants would notice his raging boner if they couldn’t see the clothing either.
“Here.” The Designer pretended to hold out a piece of clothing, when in actuality she held out nothing at all. “It is a fine tunic, is it not?”
She couldn’t help but admire the tumescent member of the Emperor as he stripped and held out his hand to accept the garment she offered. She scooted closer, and as he slipped the non-existent clothing over his head, she slid her hand down and gently grazed his manhood.
It had been so long since the Emperor had been touched in such a way that he squealed and spurted his hot baby gravy all over the imaginary clothing.
“Now look what you have done!” The designer cried in dismay, though she was laughing inside to herself. “There is no way to clean such dirtiness out of such a garment! This will have to be re-sewn with new fabrics!” She turned away from the Emperor in feigned disgust.
The man was so embarrassed he couldn’t speak, and he covered his face in shame. This was exactly the reaction the designer had hoped for- she wanted him to be degraded as she had been. After many minutes, the Emperor spoke.
“Oh please do not be upset, my dear. I will send for more fabric and more gemstones, only please do not divulge what has happened here to anyone.”
The designer pretended to think on this for a moment before bowing her head in respect.
“As my lord wished. I will work on the other designs while I wait for the things I need.”
The Emperor knew he was being dismissed, and though he normally would not allow someone to treat him thus, he was too afraid she would announce his surprise discharge to the masses, so he said nothing. He left the room in the clothes that weren’t there with his jizz dripping down the front of him. The servants in the halls whispered behind there hands, surprised at the Emperor’s nakedness, and admiring it as well. The emperor went to his chambers and did not come out again until word was sent that the collection was completed.
The Emperor, still being very vain, had decided he would be the only person to walk down the runway during fashion week in the designs made for him. Since it was only twelve hours before the first show, he sent word to the designer telling her this decision. When she heard the news, she smiled to herself, because the Emperor would be walking in the nude down the catwalk in front of the entire kingdom exactly thirty-two times. Finally, her honor would be avenged.
The following morning, the emperor arrived in the dressing room, and was immediately worried because once again he saw none of the fine garments he was supposed to be modeling. The designer entered the room and waved her arm in the direction of the clothes that weren’t there.
“Is it not the finest wardrobe my lord has ever seen? Is he not pleased?” She looked at the Emperor expectantly.
The Emperor was momentarily distracted, because the designer was provocatively dressed in a skin-tight gown that was cut down the front all the way to her navel. Her breasted were perfectly shaped underneath, and the Emperor’s memory was jogged about a similar pair of hooters he had seen long ago. His manhood once again grew to abundant lengths, and his regained memory was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“Ahh, yes, er… fine indeed. The most splendid I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He fibbed, for his eyes for not laying on anything other than a pair of perfectly shaped bosoms.
The designer seductively smiled and sauntered close to the Emperor. Her breast brushed his arm, and he jumped.
“Now, only payment must be made, and everything shell be yours.” She whispered invitingly.
The Emperor could not resist, and stuck his hand down the front of the designer’s dress. She peeled his clothes away and climbed onto his ridged cock, riding him until she found release. She did so quickly enough that the emperor was left unsatisfied, and with a boner still.
“Mmmm, that was great. Now, you must get ready have the entire kingdom admire all you have to offer.” She dressed so fast he hadn’t a chance to utter one word about his remaining boner, and was suddenly left with many servants trying to look busy and ignore his manhood.
The fashion show began, and the emperor hadn’t even enough time to take care of himself before it started, so he donned the non-existent finery and hoped that no one in the front rows would notice the bulge underneath. Out he went on the catwalk, naked as a jay bird.
The masses oohed and aahed, not because of the grand garments as the Emperor thought, but because they were so surprised at the largeness of his member, and the fact that he was completely naked. Not one of them said a word, but continued to admire the emperor as he strutted back and forth for half of the show. It was not until a child in the audience cried out, “Mama! The Emperor’s peepee is sticking out!” that the Emperor realized he was really and truly naked, and at that point he had already been in front of the audience for so long without clothes, that he thought, “What the hell? I look good,” and continued to strut his stuff. Upon realizing that the Emperor had just spent a good forty-five minutes nude in front of children and adults alike, the police came and arrested him for indecent exposure, and he was sentenced to one year in prison for every count, which ended up being… well, a really long time since there were so many people there. He became the bitch of a burly black man during his stay in the kingdom’s penitentiary and spent the rest of his life getting it up the butt.
What happened to the designer, you may ask? She road away with her trunks of silk and gemstones in tow, laughing out loud at the Emperor and his insane vanity. She now lives in Aruba and designs red carpet duds for the likes of Angelina and Salma Hayek.
The End
JAILBREAK AT THE NORTH POLE
//– DATELINE: NORTH POLE –//
Associated Press
North Pole – Shocking developments today at the North Pole rocked legal and judicial communities all around the world.
Santa Claus, under arrest for a variety of charges since early this year, has escaped custody. The warden for the North Pole District Detention Facility declined comment.
Unnamed sources cited mafia connections in this classic jailbreak, which ultimately caused an entire wing of the Detention Facility to be shut down for repair. “Total overkill,” one guard said, “One minute, I was rousting this sex offen… uh, checking on the prisoners, and the next I woke up in the middle of the deflated Bouncy Castle down on the floor. The inmates were devastated.” Other sources confirmed that riotous prisoners were transferred to separate them after a near riot over the Bouncy Castle.
The usually taciturn District Attorney maintained that, “We will of course seek justice for the people in this case. This is in no way over.” An unnamed source close to the DA hinted that the unofficial verdict here in the Pole region is ‘good riddance’ after the ongoing circus of civil disturbances resulting from Santa Claus’ arrest and incarceration.
At the height of the Santa Crisis, the NAACP provided Claus an attorney to replace Jose Baez, who quit the case citing personal reasons. Santa Claus’ pro bono lawyer declined comment, but later Al Sharpton issued a statement saying, “Justice is served for Brother Claus. Whether he’s free now or was set free later by an activist jury doing the right thing, justice has prevailed.” NAACP and Sharpton spokesbrothers were available for further comment.
The legal circuit media here in town were not put off breaking news for long, however. Only hours after Claus’ mysterious and violent escape, North Pole Police responded to a 9-1-1 call allegedly made by staffers working for Gloria Allred, the lawyer representing Mrs. Claus in her divorce proceedings. One jelly-donut-filling-smeared officer stated, “We have no suspects at this time, but the connection with the jail break cannot be overlooked.” A source within NPP said off the record that one key item logged into evidence were salad tongs that were found at the scene.
Other sources close to the presiding judicial figures in these cases hinted at a unilateral backroom deal that would settle both cases without further court drama. Just this morning beat reporters went to the blogs to announce that Mrs. Claus boarded a commercial flight out of the Pole, possibly confirming rumors of this alleged backroom deal. No official representatives of any North Pole offices were available for comment after this.
FOLLOW THE DEBACLE:
Invisible Fellatio
1. Go to Google.
2. Perform an image search on the word “coughing.”
3. Witness countless people giving the Invisible Man a blowjob.
Turkey Incognito
All across America families are gathered around their tables in celebration of Thanksgiving; a holiday that commemorates the first harvest of 1621 for the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Here in New England, the birthplace of Thanksgiving, we honor our forebears by keeping with the tradition of serving turkey, an indigenous bird to this part of the country.
While many of us view turkey as festive holiday fare, there are some who consider our gesture of patronage murder. There is one who goes so far as to call it genocide. Today’s holiday interview is like no other that’s come before, because today we are conducting our interview in a secret hide-out free from the tyranny of New England’s native carnivores. Today we interview Pro-foul resistance leader, Tom Turkey.
Hello, Tom. Forgive me for sounding trite, but how are you doing?
Eat me – that’s how I’m doing. Oh, I’m doing really well. Gobble gobble and shit. I’ve been soaking in this hot tub all day – it smells great, sort of spicy or something. It’s making me hungry! GAH! Wait a minute…
Without revealing too much information, can you explain what is involved in engineering and maintaining an underground system of foul relocation?
Ah yes, the Undergrain Railroad. Well first, some wild turkeys are helping out with that by disguising some of us with camouflage and leaves. Those guys are poultry in motion. Secondly, we eat nothing but donuts and burgers and Cheetos to ensure that even if we’re caught, we’re too fatty to be palatable.
From what your lieutenants tell me you’ve been able to successfully move over one thousand turkeys out of New England to a Vegan commune somewhere in rural California. What are the logistics involved in such a massive migration, and were there any bumps along the way?
Besides these red things, you mean? HA HA! GOL! (Ed. note: gobble out loud) One word: trains. This country hates trains, so it’s easy to sneak on like a bunch of hobos and ride them all across the country. And when we can’t do trains, we ride bears. That’s right, bears! Grizzlies! In return for eating bugs. They hate bugs.
Have there ever been any close calls?
Yes there have – hunters. Those damned turkey calling things are like a siren song to some of us. Some of us are really fucking stupid, and when they hear one of those things go off, they go running out, and BLAM! Though this one time, one of our boys was able to get someone shot in the face. Hilarious!
And there was that one time when someone got a little smart for her own good, and read a map, and saw this country called… you know. She put the wrong two with the wrong two and got… well, eaten.
What would you like to see the Obama administration do in the form of policies that would make hiding out unnecessary?
Useless, Hellis. Useless. It’s already been tried. Over 200 years ago, we started a grassroots whisper campaign to get Benjamin Franklin to make the turkey the national bird. We would have been set FOREVER! But that idiot ran out in a rain storm and got shocked, and he was never the same. We couldn’t even get him on the ballot. Eventually, he went to France. Yeah, France. I know, right! Gobbledammed eagles swooped up and took the bird prize. They’re endangered, of course, but no one is eating them, are they.
More than just winning sovereignty for the Turkey population, you’ve been quoted as stating you’d like to see the Thanksgiving holiday abolished altogether. What in particular about Thanksgiving (other than turkey consumption) do you find distasteful?
Cranberry sauce. Terrible stuff. Oh, and those hand thingies, where human children trace their hands and pretend they’re turkeys? What the hell – those look nothing like us.
What’s your opinion on Turduken?
Well, I’ve stuffed a duck AND a chicken before, if you know what I’m saying, and I’ve seen ducks and chickens having some fun, but… yeah… this is just sick.
Finally, where do you see yourself in the future?
President of Mars, which will be renamed Turkopolis. It will also be renicknamed The Red Thingie Planet.
NaNoWriMo Versus The Queen Of Self-Distraction
This time last year I put up a post entitled Why No NaNoWriMo which chronicled my need for self-distraction whenever I sit down to write. How I accomplish writing a blog at all I’ll never know. Needless to say, this year has been no different and I’ve yet to finish the second novella in my REAPERS WITH ISSUES series. What’s got me blocked this year is:
The Oakland Raiders – Walking Dead – Firefly’s 10th anniversary re-release – Coconut Rum – my promotion – Tom Elias – raising a daughter as stubborn as me – learning to love Scifi – wristsaroundtheworld – Junior’s shenanigans – Frank Stallone’s faulty brakes – Prince Charming’s charm – and this little ditty right here:
The Curse Of The Bleeding Heart
Here is an update on the previous First Amendment Battle Royale post written by my super talented friend Greg at Superversity. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
The Curse of the Bleeding Heart
Life was going by at a pleasant clip until HE encountered the dreaded monster, Aesthetic Prejudice.
“Of all the crazy little juke joints in the world I had to walk into this one.” She bemoaned.
There standing at the bar rail was the ugliest man she had ever seen. Nearby was a spittoon. Every ten seconds or so the ugly man spat into the spittoon.
The noise made by phlegm hitting phlegm was as ugly as the man making it.
HE approached the barman, a fellow new to her acquaintance.
“Hey, barkeep, would you do something about that!” She hitched her thumb in the direction of the offensive creature. The ugly man belched.
“What’s the problem, lady?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She rejoined with some indignation.
“Oh, it’s like that is it?” The barkeep gave her a cold stare and continued to polish a metal tumbler with righteous vigor.
“Like what?” HE asked in consternation. How can this guy be so blind?
“Geez, Lady, ya come inta this place o’ business like ya own it. All on yer high horse about something ya just don’t understand. Can’t ya leave well enough alone? Huh, can’t ya?” The barkeep turned away from her and went about his tasks.
HE felt like she’d been sucked into an alternate dimension. A place where people ignored the offensive. A place where brazen ugliness was accepted as normal behavior.
Finally, consumed with her need to right all wrongs, to squelch the Beast of Unalloyed Disturbance, she walked over to confront the lowly specimen who had done her the egregious disservice of violating her aesthetic prejudices.
“Listen, buddy, could you take your mucus machine somewhere else. Yer bothering me.”
“Imagine that. Name ain’t buddy, it’s Krill.”
“Huh?”
“The name is Krill ya whining bi . . .”
“I wouldn’t go there if I were you, Mr. Krill.” HE pulled herself up like a person certain on making their position known.
“Yer one ta talk, lady. Here I am minding me own business and up walks Mrs. Astor, miss sanctimonious busybody, fully prepared to unload her damned opinion like it were asked fer. Beat it, Missy Particular. Last time I checked this were a free country. Move, before I spits on you!” Krill proceeded to hack up a substantial lugee and held it in his mouth threateningly.
HE blanched with disgust. She thought of holding her ground for all that was right and decent and proper, but decided, in this instance, retreat was the better part of her personal valor.
Later that day, back home lying on her divan with a cool compress parked on her forehead HE though of the events at the First Amendment Saloon, an establishment she’d heard better things of from people she respected. She remembered something she had heard all of her life, yet never actually had any real dealing with: “I might not agree with what you have to say but I defend your right to say it.” She guessed it took a more evolved soul to do such a thing. What she felt like doing was loading her pearl-handled derringer and returning to the saloon. There, in her brilliant fantasy, for HE was a woman of dangerously brilliant fantasies, she would dispatch the horrible Mr. Krill with a single bullet to his hardened and black heart. Then, perhaps, he would bleed the way she did.
First Amendment Battle Royale
My son Junior considers himself a burgeoning Political Science expert (read: Insufferable teenage know-it-all), so when I came across this brand new Editorial Policy on the contact page of the Krill Press website I immediately asked him for his opinion:
My take on this policy is that it borders on, if not downright defies, the First Amendment right to free speech. Junior, however, disagrees.
He states that as long as Krill Press is a for-profit enterprise that doesn’t receive monies from the government they can choose to publish or not publish anything or anyone they want to, and that the First Amendment protects their ability to do so. I didn’t see how that was plausible, so he took the time to look up and then cite the following:
The First Amendment does NOT protect the right to make or distribute obscene material. – Roth v. United States, 354 U.S. 476 (1957).
Junior believes this is the piece of our Constitution that justifies Krill Press’ editorial policy. He states that if Krill Press believes liberal content to be obscene, then they have the right to deny its publication.
He and I went round for round with this one, and in the end we agreed to disagree. His last statement to me was, “Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t make it wrong. There are some things that can’t be done and some things that shouldn’t.” Nothing like having your own words hurled back at you by your fifteen year-old kid.
At the end of it all I suppose I see his point, but there is something very distasteful in what I am reading above and I can’t put my finger on it. If anyone out there has any ideas, I’d love to hear them.
For the whole sordid story visit Krill Press. By the way, the misspelled words above were taken from the site exactly as is. I left them to prove a point.
The Ugly Duckling
Today’s post features another offering to our collection of F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES! Kat from Grafiklit has taken on the challenge of spinning the classic, THE UGLY DUCKLING. Enjoy!
Once upon a time (because this a time-honored way of beginning fairy tales), there was a swan, and she was pregnant. She didn’t want to be, because she wasn’t in love with her swan boyfriend, and the egg made her fat and almost totally ruined her bitchin’ prom dress. So after she laid the egg in the bathroom of the Sheraton that her high school had rented, she scooped it up and snuck outside, making tracks for the hospital a couple blocks away.
She’d managed to fit the egg inside her clutch, so no one at the hospital knew what she carried up to the second floor, the neo-egg unit. She also managed to sneak into the nesting room and stick the egg in one of the cribs. Birds aren’t very good at security.
They’re also not very good at math, because none of the nurses noticed that where once there was one egg, now there were two. Luckily for them, the mother was a duck, which meant that she was stupid.
The mother and father duck went home the next day with their two new additions, and the mother duck sat on the eggs until they hatched. The hatching day was a big deal in the duck household. There was cake, and soda, and balloons, and cousins and uncles. When the eggs cracked open, everyone gathered around the nest to watch. The duck, the real duck, emerged from his egg first.
“Aww, he’s so cute,” said some distant aunt. No one really knew who she was related to. She smelled like moth balls, though.
Next was the swan.
“Holy shit,” said the distant aunt, “He’s fucking ugly!” And even though no one was sure if she was supposed to be there, or if she’d wandered in off the street, everyone agreed with her. That second duckling was fugly. Seriously, have you ever seen a baby swan? Bow-wow City.
The swan grew up thinking he was a duck, and he was constantly tormented. At school, he was pushed into lockers. His lunch money was stolen. His head was dunked in every toilet in the school. Ducks made gagging noises when he walked by. No duck chick would date him.
At home, his parents ignored him and doted on his duck brother. This brother was the duck version of David Beckham. When he entered a room, angels sang. Little old ladies helped him cross the street. Even blind ducks knew how good-looking he was.
In a situation like this, it can go two ways: the ugly duckling (even though we all know he’s a swan, let’s stick with this for the time being, hmm?) can rise above his tormentors and graduate and go to college, where things might not necessarily improve, but maybe he’ll turn out to be a whiz with computers and get wicked rich, or he can go on a shooting spree at his school and make the papers.
It went the third way: the ugly duckling decided to cut off his brother’s face, wear it, and take over his identity.
Did I mention that ducks were stupid? Well, swans are fuckin’ crazy. Like Mexican cartel crazy.
One day, the ugly duckling stole a scalpel from his science class. That night, he slipped some sleeping pills into his brother’s milk and waited until sleepy times. Then he cut off his brother’s face. Bill and all. He spent the rest of the night cleaning up the blood and figuring out a good way to attach it to his own vile mug. There wasn’t one. He ended up stapling it on. Then he dressed in his brother’s clothes and ate breakfast looking like Duck Leatherface and his parents had no clue. Ducks are so stupid.
Fortunately, most of his teachers were geese. Geese are very smart. They let him go to his first period class, then called him to the principal’s office, where the police were waiting. The cops were also geese.
His lawyer was a goose, too, and once he got a look at the duckling’s real face, he knew he was dealing with a swan. He also knew that all he needed to do was file a bunch of legal papers and get the trial delayed a few months. Because, you see, teenage swans are butt-ugly, but young adult swans are like David Beckham times a thousand.
And thusly, once the trial finally started, the judge and jury and all the court people saw this gorgeous swan waddle into the courtroom. The judge (a duck) was confused. He wanted to know where the filthy psychopath was.
The lawyer, not missing a beat, said that the psycho duckling had escaped, and this poor beautiful swan had been imprisoned in his place. Injustice! cried the jury (also ducks). So they let the swan go, and a manhunt (duckhunt?) was launched for the psycho duckling. They never found him, of course. But a lot of unattractive ducks suffered some vigilante justice.
And the swan, meanwhile, started a new life, but because he was a swan, and therefore mentally unstable, it wasn’t too long before he strapped a few homemade bombs to his torso and waddled into his old high school. He blew himself sky-high and died a virgin.
The End.
Romantic Monday – Ode To Erik Estrada
As a kid growing up I had lots of crushes on boys and sometimes men, most of them actors on television. One of the earliest crushes I had was on a certain Latin actor named Erik Estrada, better known as Officer Francis “Ponch” Poncherello on a little show called CHiPs.
Anyway, what I remember most about that time were my prepubescent fantasies of a chance romantic encounter with Senor Estrada. Seeing that he is Puerto Rican, I had always imagined learning to speak Spanish in order to impress him when we finally met. I envisioned a mall scenario where my bilingual ability would impress him enough to set me apart from all the other adoring fans. Enough for him to invite me into his van (Note to all you youngsters out there- all sexy guys in the 80′s had vans. And mustaches, but that’s another blog post). So for my weekly offering to Romantic Monday I bring you:
AN ODE TO ERIK ESTRADA
I stand in a line that stretches the length of the mall, sipping my Orange Julius, waiting patiently for the Latin object of my preteen desire to sign my copy of Dynamite Magazine. I size up the competition standing between me and my love while I wait. I count ten blonde heads in all.
They must have known someone to get in line in front of me, I tell myself in consolation. I’ve been here since five a.m. goddamn it. No one loves Erik Estrada more than I do.
I do little to hide my glee as I watch girl after eager girl dismissed with an autograph but without a second glance. Little by little I inch closer to the man who I am convinced will someday make me his bride. Anticipating a kiss, I pop a stick of Zebra Stripe gum into my mouth as I wait patiently for him to notice me.
Finally I reach him- sitting behind a table, his glorious dark hair feathered just so. My heart races as I pass him my magazine, intentionally brushing my hand against his as I do. He doesn’t look up as I ask for his autograph, and I can tell he thinks I am just another groupie only interested in the celebrity that surrounds him.
Oh Erik, my love, I am determined to prove you wrong!
He heaves a heavy sigh as he scribbles his name and without looking up says, “Is this it?”
I catch a glimpse of my braces reflected in the lenses of the RayBans a top his head as I smile and say, “Si.”
He slowly raises his eyes to meet mine and we stare deep into each others eyes for what seems like forever…the two of us locked in a gaze of pure intimacy.
“You speak Spanish?” he finally asks, clearly impressed with my dedication to learning all that I can about him.
I answer clearly. “Si.”
In an instant he’s up and around the table. He grabs my hand and pulls me quickly through the crowd of jealous teenage rejects to the exit doors that empty into the alley behind the mall. There awaits a van, his van, the site of my soon-to-be epic deflowering.
He slides the door open and hops in, reaching a hand out to pull me inside. Once I’m in he slides the door closed and tells me to make myself comfortable. I lay down on a purple silk bed built into the rear of the van while he twists the cap off a wine cooler and then pushes play on a cassette tape. David Bowie’s China Girl pours out of the speakers as he hands me my Bartles & James and says, “I want you to be my only Chica…”
My voice trembles as I say, “Si.”
He takes the drink from my hand and sets it down before he pulls me in close to him. The intoxicating scent of Aqua Velva mingled with Latin machismo emanates from his skin leaving me dizzy and breathless. He breathes in deep my own scent of Jean Nate and teenage lust as his hands move slowly to my back, working their way under my shirt. My skin is soft to him and smells “delicious.” He asks if he can taste me.
My breasts heave as I say, “Si.”
Sliding his hands up my body, he brings them to my face and then leans in to place sweet, gentle kisses at the corners of my lips, his tongue working its way into my mouth, tasting me as promised. His kiss is passionate and deep and makes me feel like the woman I am desperate to be. He asks if I want more.
Our breath mingles as I pant, “Si.”
I feel the beat of his heart racing with mine and the intensity of his desire through the denim of his Jordache for Men. My hand finds its way to his manhood straining against his jeans. I let my hand linger, teasing him. He begs me to set him free.
I whisper, “Si.”
I let loose the top button just as strong hands stop me, holding me in place. My beautiful Latin lover stares down at me with dark brown eyes and whispers, “You’re eighteen, right?”
I smile as I lie.
“Si.”
FOR EVEN MORE ROMANTIC MONDAYS VISIT:
Edward Hotspur – Bittersweet Perfection
Frederique – Romance
Suzy – Romantic
Hastywords and Hotspur – Your Love Is Like…
Mimsy – Come Drink My Coffee
Sheila – Yes
Suzy – Teaching
Gin and Tulips – Uncurl Me
Running Naked With Scissors – The Drawing
The Cheeky Diva – Woooo Hoooo!!!
Hastywords – A Weekend Romance
Kayjai’s Blog – Sheila And Gilbert
PMAO – A Romantic Song
Benzeknees – Romantic Monday III
F*ck Me – It’s NaNoWriMo Time Again
I know I’m four days behind in this post, but better late than never as someone much more clever than I once said.
For those of you who may not know, NaNoWriMo stands for NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH which basically describes an online community of writers gathered together to practice their craft. You can create a page similar in style to Facebook where you connect with others and draw support from the world of writers.
Anyway, it’s NaNoWriMo time again, and I of course have signed up to fail. The good news here is that I have my second novella, REAPERS WITH FANGS to finish, so I am determined to be successful this year. Who wants to be my buddy and crash and burn succeed with me? I promise it will be a glorious disaster success!
H.E. ELLIS @ NaNoWriMo
If you’ve already joined up, leave a link to your NaNoWriMo page in the comments. For blog posts penned by folks far more dedicated to their craft than I, please visit:
TOM ELIAS
JOE HINOSA
VERY NORMAL
JENNIFER VAUGHN
SIPS OF JEN AND TONIC
OUT WHERE THE BUSES DON’T RUN
The Ant and the Grasshopper
Today I’d like to welcome a newbie to our little corner of blogworld, g00dg33kranting with his timely take on the classic THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER. Not only is our new friend a contributor to our F*cked Up Fairy Tale project, but he is also a novelist in his own right. You can pick up a copy of his book, RISE OF THE DRAGONS through a link at the bottom of the post.
KID! Yeah you… get over here. Put that stupid video game down for a few minutes and come listen to me. I have a story to tell you. You and your lazy generation playing video games and texting on your phones and facebooking on everything; it’s SICKENING.
Listen to this story and you will rethink how you act. I’m going to tell you about the Ant and the Grasshopper.
DON’T GIVE ME THAT LOOK! This is more exciting than your Twilights and your Spidermans and your Thors with their actors who are too good looking to be real people.
So you see, there was this Ant and a Grasshopper and they were married as any good Grasshopper will end up married to an Ant at some point in his life. Now the Grasshopper went to work but he mostly slacked off a lot when he was there and then said he was too tired to help out when he got home.
This made his Ant wife very mad since she had to take care of their 437 children all day. Then had to cook dinner, get all 437 children to get their baths before getting them to bed. As you can imagine it is very challenging to get 437 children to bed by 8:30 P.M.
The Grasshopper would drink a lot of beer and watch football. This infuriated the Ant even more. Eventually the weather got cold at the end of the year and the Grasshopper wanted to get intimate with his Ant wife.
But she just ignored him and went to sleep. In the middle of the night she cut off his Grasshopper junk and threw it in a field, leaving the Grasshopper, and took her 437 children to LA and married Matt Damon just to dump him and take half his money.
And I miss your father every day… NOT, now go clean your room or I’ll cut yours off too.
PICK UP A COPY OF HIS BOOK AT AMAZON:
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (The Seth Stories)
Reapers With Fangs
Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, the day is nearly here when we will unveil Book Two of the four book compilation series called REAPERS WITH FANGS. The sequel to Reapers With Issues follows the Grim Reaper on his journey through middle management Hell.
For those of you who have not read Book One of the series entitled, REAPERS WITH ISSUES but would like to purchase a copy visit www.wristsaroundtheworld.com where every purchase donates 100% of the profit to a great cause that you too can be a part of. Don’t forget to visit the REAPERS WITH ISSUES website and sign Grim’s DEATH BOOK. Now onto a preview of:
REAPERS WITH FANGS
Death’s bag landed with a thud, dumping its coconut scented contents and nearly a pound of beach sand onto the cold, office floor. “When was someone going to tell me about this?” Grim asked the three Horsemen scrambling to form a line in front of him.
“What ‘this’ are you referring to?” Famine asked, backing away slowly.
Grim stepped forward and shoved a pink, bubble gum scented memo into Famine’s bony hand. “THIS is what I’m referring to. This memo that’s nearly two weeks old. I count on you three to cue me into this kind of thing when I’m gone. I shouldn’t have had to hear this from Lucifer.”
Pestilence flinched at the word “Lucifer,” but said nothing. War looked to Famine who, after returning a stony glare, reluctantly answered. “No one wanted to bother you. We all agreed you needed the break.”
“So you thought waiting until I got back from vacation to walk into this mess was the better idea?” Grim asked as he snatched the memo from Famine’s hand and tossed it atop a monstrous stack of waiting paperwork.
“No, that’s not what we thought at all,” Famine explained. “We agreed we’d do some recon first and get a handle on who this Ashli person was before we decided whether or not you should worry.”
Grim startled. “Worry? Why? Who is she?”
Without saying a word Pestilence slowly lifted Grim’s mug off his desk and then went for coffee just as Famine produced a silver flask from deep inside his cloak.
“That good, huh?” Grim asked, not convinced he wanted to know.
“I’m not sure “good” is the word you want here,” Famine said as he poured a stream of red, viscous liquid into the steaming cup of coffee. Pestilence blew the billowing smoke away before handing the mug to Grim who promptly set it on the desk behind him.
“I’m not a Cherub, Fam. You don’t have to pussy foot around me. Just tell me straight out who this Ashli person is.”
Famine took a quick sip from the flask, steeling his courage before he spoke. “From what we’ve been able to gather Ashli is…well, let’s just say word around the Cloud is that the boss has got himself a new girlfriend.”
Grim stood frozen for a moment before he snatched the flask from Famine’s hand, tipped it back and sucked it dry.
“We’re still not sure what this is, so I see no reason to assume the worst,” Pestilence said in an attempt to put Grim at ease.
“Bunch of bullshit is what it is,” War blasted. “Give me five– no, four thousand real Reapers and we’ll take care of business no problem I guaran-fucking-tee it. We don’t need no Bible bitch tellin’ us how to do our jobs. We–”
Famine backhanded War into silence just as Grim dropped the flask to the floor. “Wait–what’s he talking about?” Grim asked, wide eyed. “What did he mean by, ‘telling us how to do our jobs?’”
Famine hung his head and sighed. “Yeah…I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
“So what are you saying?” Grim asked. “That I finally got Skippy and his shih-tzu out of my department and now….now I’ve got the girlfriend setting up shop here? Are you telling me she is actually in command of the OHD??” Grim’s shocked reaction forced his eyeballs to pop out of his skull and roll along the floor.
Famine picked the eyes and his flask up and set them all on the desk. “I’m afraid that’s the way it looks,” he reluctantly replied.
“Well that’s just fucking great,” Grim said as he ripped off his best tanned meat suit, stopping short of revealing a heart-shaped tattoo with the words Fran Forever emblazoned across the bicep. A tattoo that for the life of him Grim could not recall getting. “I need to sort this shit out so give me a few minutes alone, please. Pronto.”
Famine nodded and then led the Horsemen out of the office. As soon as he was alone Grim headed straight to the closet to change into his regular uniform. His official cloak, Grim decided, would put him in the right frame of mind to deal with the fact that once again, God pulled the rug out from under him.
As Grim slid on the heavy, black robe he set to putting this new dilemma into perspective. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. Anything had to be better than Jesus and his Reaper disaster. After all, the Big Guy never kept a woman for long, and he was sure it would only be a matter of time before this new one grew tired of his continued absence. Running the Universe for an eternity isn’t the nine to five job most women think it is.
Still, there was reason for concern. Even though this wasn’t the first time God took a mate, it was the first time in at least two thousand years he’d been this public about it. As Grim could recall, Lucifer was the reason behind God’s last romantic debacle. Grim wondered just how deep into Ashli’s pie his demon colleague’s fingers were, and just how bad the blowback to the OHD might be if God found out.
His mind racing with new concerns, Grim threw open the office doors and called for his Horsemen. “Have any of you spoken to Lucifer yet?” Grim asked once they arrived. “He’s the one who forwarded the memo. He’s got to know how this happened.”
“We…didn’t think it was such a good idea,” Famine tentatively began. “We didn’t know how much of this action originated from the Southern offices, you know, considering how Jesus’ Reaper solution went down.”
Grim ran a bony hand back and forth along his spinal column. “I do know what you mean, but it seems like a lot of risk, even for Lucifer. This isn’t Jesus and his shih-tzu we’re talking about, this is the Big Man and his woman. Anyone remember Lilith?”
“Come on, Boss,” War interjected around a wad of chew. “You know you can’t trust ol’ whistle britches, especially when there’s a female involved. Don’t matter who she is. He nails ‘em faster than Jesus to a cross.”
Hearing his Horseman echo his thoughts reinforced Grim’s suspicion of Lucifer’s role in Ashli’s sudden appearance at the OHD. Determined to get answers, Grim reached for a phone that rang as he grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Why Grim! You’re back!” Lucifer announced with mock cheerfulness. “What’s the good news?”
“You tell me. I’ve been skull deep in sand for the past two weeks.”
“Hmm…how very odd. I’d have thought your ponies would have alerted you to the magnitude of the situation by now.”
Grim shot his Horsemen a look of death as he spoke. “Never mind all that and just answer a question for me. Did you have something to do with this Ashli bullshit or not?”
“Hold your Horses,” Lucifer snickered. “The answer’s no, I had nothing to do with this. Although I wish I had, because this is more glorious than any plan I could have concocted.”
“Plan? What fucking plan are you talking about?”
A sudden, thunderous crash resonated throughout the office followed by a sulfurous puff of smoke. Lucifer appeared at Grim’s side. “Sorry about the theatrics Grimmie old boy, but I just had to be here when you got the news.”
Grim rubbed his skinless temples in exasperation. “Fuck the news and just get to the plan.”
An expression that was both gleeful and menacing at once took hold of Lucifer’s face as he stared into Grim’s and said, “I can sum up the plan in one word-
Vampires…”
FOR MORE REAPERS VISIT:
http://www.reaperswithissues.com
TO BE PART OF A GLOBAL PROJECT AND GOOD CAUSE VISIT:
http://www.wristsaroundtheworld.com
The Passion of Suspiria and Mister Dead
Ladies and Gentlemen- I have no words. Let’s let today’s F*cked up Fairy Tale speak for itself.
The Passion of Suspiria and Mister Dead
(extremely loosely based on The Elves and the Shoemaker)
There was a time when everyone believed in freedom and happiness, long before societies and matrimony came along and made everything boring. The couple in this story certainly believed! And this couple truly lived that belief.
This couple, though not mortally or morally tied to one another like they would be today, ran a sexccesories shop called Master and Servant just outside the stodgy town of Stuffingham, founded just as the freedom of sensuality began its sticky end. Their shop was nondescript from the outside, by design. Regular Stuffingham citizens passing by wouldn’t have thought anything of the storefront – but irregular folks knew all about the place, and they frequented the shop in droves.
To keep up appearances, and because they really had nothing else to wear, nor would they want to, Jack and Sarah nearly always dressed in their ‘work’ clothes. The man wore a pin-striped suit dark blue pins on light blue, impeccably pressed and perfect in every way including being perfectly accessorized, with the exception of two holes cut out for the cheeks of his rosy ass, and two holes in the shirt for his nipples, both of which were pierced and connected by a chain. The woman wore an all-leather ensemble of high-heeled stiletto boots with glittered toes, pants that were as tight as a second skin and showed off her curves and crevices quite nicely, a leather eye mask and luscious red lipstick, and a corset of black with red trim that pushed up and proudly displayed her breasts, with holes for the nipples which were clamped – the whole thing leaving little to the imagination, save the belly button piercing complete with chain that fell down into her pants, linking to lower and hotter regions. While the two of them were not hunting eggs or opening gifts with their extended familes, they were known as Mister Dead and Suspiria, respectively.
On one fine day, the shop door opened and a couple entered. The ‘gentleman’ of the couple was wearing a leather cap, a leather vest, leather bikini bottoms and thigh-high boots. The ‘lady’ of the couple had a hot mess of tiny flowers throughout her hair, a powder blue prom dress with corsage, and some dainty white mary janes with powder blue polka dots on them. They make just a smashing couple, thought the shopkeepers, and Suspiria stepped up to assist them.
“Hello, my lovelies. How can I be helping you today?”
The gentleman stopped to admire Suspiria’s outfit, though he was not of a proclivity to necessarily admire Suspiria herself. “That is stunning! How would I come by an outfit like that?”
“I do it by pulling on this chain ever so slightly for about three or four minutes,” Suspiria said slyly. The couple giggled, and the prom queen looked back and forth for a moment.
“Honey, I would love to see you in that outfit – though it would need some adjustments in some places.”
“We can make something similar for you,” said Mister Dead. “I have a picture of it right here.”
Mister Dead showed them the picture of the male version of the outfit. The bustier of the corset was reduced and came below the nipples, while the front of the skin tight pants had a special attachment for placement and display of the penis, that flexed depending on the area needed.
“OH my GOD! That is perfect! We will take two of them.”
“Honey! Two of them!”
“Yes, dear. It’s so fucking hot that I want to see you in one too!”
“I worship you.” The happy couple waited as Mister Dead worked his bare ass off to make the outfits, and left arm in arm, hands all over each other.
Suspiria smiled as they left, until she saw the look on Mister Dead’s face.
“What troubles you, my love?”
“I didn’t want you to worry, my goddess, but all is not well.”
“My love? You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
“Yes, mistress. You see, this season has been much colder, and fewer people have been coming by, and…well, to be honest, after the happy couple, we only have enough leather for one outfit. Just one. I shall have to leave the leather on the workbench. In fact, I fear crafting anything until the next guest commissions an outfit. I have nothing to do.”
“Oh, my. That is terrible, my lord, but I can think of a way to save some money on heat and give you something to do.”
“Is that so? I would love to listen to you tell me about it, and then perhaps attempt to save money all evening.”
“First, we need to get together, very close, like this.”
“Yes, mistress?”
“And if my lord would kindly undo my corset, we might get closer and share body warmth under yon blankets.”
“Precious, if you would turn around, I could help you do just that.” He gave a gentle tug on her chain, sending thrills through her body.
“You will pay for that later, my lord. I can promise you that.”
Suspiria turned around, and Mister Dead slowly loosened her corset, laying it gently on the floor by the bed, which was a medieval rack with a mattress on it. Mister Dead knelt before Suspiria and closed his eyes as she teased him with her nipples, brushing them across his lips. She reached for a blindfold that lay on the nightstand and put it on him, which brought a smile to his face. She put one finger under his chin and raised it, kissing him passionately, and then nudged him up gently until he stood, kneeling herself. She turned him around and kissed and nibbled each cheek of his rounded ass, and then around again as she slowly unfastened his leather belt and slid off his pants. He gasped as she brushed her lips against his penis, and a shiver ran through his body as she slid up against him slowly. She sensuously removed the rest of his clothes, fastening his nipple clamps back on and pushing him onto the rack, cuffing him and tightening the wheel just enough.
“Are you feeling warm, my love?” Mister Dead just nodded and smiled in bliss.
“I do not believe you are warm enough yet, lord.”
Suspiria took a candle from the window, pulling the drapes down as she did, and walked back to the rack. She took her left hand, starting at his feet, and gently brushed his skin with her fingertips, slowly, sensuously towards his manhood, coming closer but never quite touching. His body tensed with anticipation, but the touch never came. She kept moving up his chest, slowly, until she reached his lips. He took her fingers into his mouth as she whispered into his ear.
“For you, my love.”
Suspiria pulled back, and with the candle in her right hand she dripped hot wax over the lips of Mister Dead. He gasped in delight as she dripped the wax down his chest, over both nipples, across his stomach and down his thighs. She took his cock into her mouth just once, and then replaced it with the steaming wax from the candle as Mister Dead shivered with pleasure.
Suspiria removed the rest of her clothing except her boots, and climbed onto the bed, standing over Mister Dead. She slowly lowered herself down to the wax-covered lips of Mister Dead and rocked back and forth as he moaned and hummed for her. She slid her clit back and forth over the still-hot wax, becoming wetter and wetter until she climaxed in a shivering bodystorm. She collapsed onto Mister Dead’s chest, sliding down and breaking the wax with her fingers and tasting the juices that remained there, and letting Mister Dead taste them.
A noise! Suspiria whispered into Mister Dead’s ear.
“My lord, did you hear that?”
“I did hear something, but fear not, goddess. It is likely the sexual electricity crackling between us. Do you not feel it?”
“I think you are right, my love. I shall not stop!”
Suspiria had her suspicions, though. She slid down until Mister Dead was right at her slit, and then slid down even further, making them both cry out in pleasure.
Suspiria was right, for there was indeed a noise. Out in the shop proper, two eyes watched the couple make passionate love. The eyes belonged to a truly unusual creature – a being made of sexual energy and passion, given shape and form. This creature watched the couple with wide eyes and excitement, touching herself (for such a being could only be female) as the couple played out their games of submission and sex, bringing herself to climax ater climax, nearly to the point she could take no more, until the couple themselves grew blissfully satisfied, weary, and warm after all. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, and she was somewhat of a mess, but she certainly looked happy. This was the most passionate, sensuous and sexual event she had ever witnessed since her creation – and she hadn’t remembered until this very moment, but it was here that her energy first coalesced, her mind filled with passion and love, and she had sprung fully formed from the love between Mister Dead and Suspiria.
She sat on the workbench, recovering from her countless orgasms, when she looked over and saw the leather. And an idea formed in her head as surely as she had formed from sexual energy: she would repay Mister Dead and Suspiria for granting her life and giving her sustenance. She began crafting as the idea took life just as she had. Sharp heels, six inches. Soles of obsidian and mahogany. Leather fasteners. Cold iron eyelets. Diamond and pearl inlays. Obsidian and sapphire shards. Leather up to the thighs, and beyond. She finished, admiring her work, and left the most stunning and incredible leather boots ever made upon that workbench, before disappearing, exhausted from the evening’s events.
The next morning, Mister Dead woke up tangled in the wet sheets, and tangled in Suspiria’s chain. He gently tugged it, and Suspiria woke up with a smile. She pulled Mister Dead in for a kiss, and he moved on top of her, but just as he was about to plunge deep inside her, her eyes went wide and she pointed behind him. And then, thinking better of it, she dropped her hand to his back and her eyes went wide for an entirely different reason.
Several minutes later, their morning fast broken, Suspiria finally told Mister Dead what she had pointed at earlier.
“My love, I would never interrupt a morning of lovemaking such as this, but look what lies on yonder table!”
“There is nothing I would rather look at than your body, from head to toe, stopping at all the naughty bits, of course. But for you, goddess, I will.”
Mister Dead looked – and gasped! He could not believe such a pair of boots could exist in this mortal world. He leapt from the rack, Suspiria close behind, each wrapped in sheet and blanket, and together they looked upon this marvelous pair of boots. They were multifaceted, like gemstones, each one glimmering brighter than the other.
“My love! How did such a pair of boots as this come to be on our very workbench?”
“I know not, my lord. We were quite busy last night, and my attention was all on you. But it occurs to me, my love, that this may have something to do with that noise we heard last night.”
“My lady, that was the heat and sparks from our very bodies, surely – but still, perhaps you are right. Perhaps someone was here last night, watching us!”
“Oh my lord, how exciting! I am getting wet just at the possibility. Then, shall we consider this a gift?”
“I would not have chosen to make just a pair of boots out of our last leather, but this is not just a pair of boots. They are the finest boots I have ever seen in my entire life! I would love to see you in them, even if for just a moment, but in our current state, I feel that we should perhaps place them in the window and see what we can get for them.”
“Aie! It pains me to do so, but I must admit you are right. I will try them on, though, just for you, my lord.”
Suspiria, wearing nothing but a smile, put the boots on. Suddenly, as if by magic, leather tassels covered her nipples, a leather bikini bottom covered her sexy ass, and a whip appeared in her hand! These were some magical boots indeed! Mister Dead immediately became more aroused than he had ever been, but with no small amount of difficulty, he managed, barely, to decline.
“We must put them in the window, my love. Should we experience the full onslaught of these boots, I fear we could not bear to part with them.”
“Again, with great pain and sadness, I know you are right. I will take them off, but promise me you will remember this moment for later.”
“There is no doubt in my mind that I will remember this always, goddess.”
Suspiria took them off and placed them in the window, and the two of them reluctantly dressed themselves to receive guests. Just as they had finished their makeup, the door to the shop opened, and in walked the most alluring and sexual woman either of them had ever seen. She was completely nude except for the tattoos covering her entire torso, some fishnet stockings and ballet slippers. She glanced at the couple, raising her eyebrows slightly, and then turned to admire the boots up close. She looked at them from above and from below, bending over and arching her back as she did. She placed the boots on the floor with approval from Mister Dead, and walked around them like a succubus circling her prey. She reached behind herself and absentmindedly slid a finger inside, aroused by the look and feel and smell of the boots. Mister Dead and Suspiria looked at each other and smiled as the woman stopped circling the boots and walked up to them.
“Don’t you look luscious, dears. Those boots are incredible – the best I have ever seen. Which one of you made them?”
Mister Dead looked at Suspiria, and said “We are both responsible for them, together. Just as the pair could not be separated, neither could we. We belong together, the two of us, and the two of them.”
“Could you be separated for brief periods of time? Seconds, or minutes, perhaps?”
“That depends on many things, but we are not opposed to it, Miss…”
“Sushevane. I would love to come between you for a moment. But first, I would love to come between those two boots. May I try them on?”
“Of course, Sushevane. Let us help you.”
Mister Dead reached around Suchevane and lifted her up into a tight embrace, as Suspiria pulled one boot on, caressing her thigh gently, and then the other, giving her other thigh equal time, and then slowly standing up, kissing her silky white ass and blowing warm breath into her crevice. Mister Dead and Suspiria pressed Sushevane between them, holding her up with just their bodies and covering her with kisses. But as her skin became wet with excitement, she slid down until the boots touched the ground. A cold fire overcame Mister Dead and Suspiria, and they dropped to their knees as Sushevane grabbed their faces and pushed them over her wet clit. They lapped up the wetness, happy to serve her pleasure as the fire gently burned that part of their minds that made sensuality grow. Sushevane felt herself losing control of her body even as she had total control of the inseparable couple, and she came over and over, mindlessly and blissfully.
After some time, the couple opened their eyes, unaware of having closed them, to find Sushevane slyly staring at them. Sushevane kissed each of them passionately, and then reached deep within her box and produced a large glittering diamond. She presented it to them happily.
“This should be sufficient, don’t you think?”
“Oh, certainly, Miss Sushevane,” said Suspiria. “More than sufficient, as we are happy to see a lovely woman such as you wearing these boots. You were made for each other, as we are.”
“Then it is yours, and I thank you for not just this day, but all the glorious days to come. You have given me fulfillment beyond my dreams, and I only hope some of them come true. I misspeak – some more of them.” She winked at the couple, and then turned and left the shop.
Mister Dead smelled Sushevane’s scent on the diamond and was aroused all over again. Suspiria took advantage of Mister Dead’s state, gracefully and magically.
As they had nothing else to sell, they closed the shop for the rest of the day, but they still had to acquire more leather. But Suspiria, being an exquisite gemcutter, cleaned, carved and cut the diamond into a glittering masterpiece, taking care to save the shards, for an idea had formed in her head. She and Mister Dead went out into the world, and dined, danced and enjoyed each other’s company and the company of those around them. On the way back home, they stopped at the tanner’s and purchased another supply of leather, enough for three complete outfits complete with accessories, and more. They carried their purchases home and placed the leather once again on the workbench.
As exhausted as they were from the day’s activities as well as those of the previous night, Suspiria had some surprises. She had purchased a bolt of silk and some lace and silver buttons, and she set about making an outfit from them. Mister Dead watched her for a moment, but with a kiss and a caress, he understood his role in this outfit, and he began making a pair of silk and leather slippers suitable for an elegant night out. By the time he had completed the slippers, Suspiria was finished with the outfit. She lay the outfit on the workbench and placed the leather over it.
“My love, allow me to admire your handiwork, if you would.”
“I cannot let you see it until the moment is right. Trust me, my lord. But there is handiwork I can show you.”
“Your words are difficult to counter, goddess. I would see this handiwork.” Mister Dead smiled wolfishly.
Suspiria led Mister Dead to the rack, gently tugging on his nipple chains as he sighed. She placed the blindfold on again, and bent him over the rack, kissing his cheeks and thighs. Suspiria reached up and undid the buckle of his pants, and with a swift motion she had Mister Dead stripped from the waist down. She returned to his ass cheeks, running her tongue from cheek to cheek and pausing to tongue his crack. She reached around and stroked his cock as she licked between his cheeks, and then moved to his balls. She twisted around until she faced his cock as he leaned against the bed, and took him in her mouth. He thrust into her mouth again and again, but she stopped him and flipped him over, lifting him onto the bed. She stripped until she was also naked from the waist down and placed a strawberry-flavored candy just inside her opening. She climbed onto the bed facing his stiff cock, licking the shaft up and down. He smelled her pussy, smiled and began to lick her clit, tasting the strawberry mixed with her juices. She responded by moaning, and with his cock in her mouth, the vibration of the hum sent a tingle down his spine. She thrust her wetness against his lips and tongue, and he happily licked and sucked her clit, making her shake.
The same noise from the night before! Suspiria spun around and whispered in the ear of Mister Dead.
“My lord, did you hear that?”
“I did, indeed. That time it was unmistakeable. Whatever shall we do, goddess?”
“I believe we should peek into the workshop, my love. I do so want to finish with you, but my curiosity is tingling.”
“As is mine, my lady. Shall we look?”
Mister Dead and Suspiria stood up from the rack, not bothering to put any clothing on. They touched each other and kissed in a passionate embrace, making promises their bodies would keep later, and crept towards the curtain separating the bedroom from the workshop. What they saw was amazing! A being aglow lay on the workbench wearing the outfit Suspiria had sewn just an hour before. It was a brilliant red silk kimono with cutouts for the breasts, and silk stockings with lace garter ties to hold everything together – plus the gorgeous leather and silk slippers. This glowing female with pointed ears and long flowing honey brown hair was furiously pleasuring herself with one hand, and pinching her nipples with the other hand, first one, then the other, eyes closed tight. Occasionally, blue energy would arc off her hot and gorgeous body and dissipate into the air.
Mister Dead and Suspiria could barely take their eyes off her, but for their love for one another. With a look, they made a wordless plan. Suspiria took the blindfold from the nightstand and a strip of lace, and Mister Dead sneaked around the workbench, patiently. They looked at each other once more, and as Mister Dead held the creature’s hands, Suspiria tied on the blindfold, and then tied the beauty’s arms to the workbench above her head. She reacted in surprise, but not with fear. She struggled by reflex, but not to get away. She cried out, but wordlessly. Suspiria and Mister Dead started with her dainty feet, kissing them and smelling the lavender and jasmine scents coming from them, and indeed from her whole body. The couple moved up her legs, licking, nibbling and kissing them, and she relaxed and tensed at the same time.
She knew her captors. She was borne of them. As they neared her luscious wet mound, she had never felt such peace and tranquility, and yet such excitement. Mister Dead and Suspiria each reached up a hand and pinched her nipples, sending chills and sparks through the lot of them. The couple was surprised, but not slowed. They began taking turns licking her clit and her wet opening, sliding in fingers, stopping to kiss each other, and managing a three-way kiss.
The energy and tension built, and when she felt she would explode with wetness and pleasure, the blindfold flew off, and her hands became unbound. As she climaxed, she placed her hands on Mister Dead and Suspiria, one each in the middle of their chests, and then drew them to her by some mysterious force. As they all joined in embrace, the crackling blue energy filled the air and their bodies with a pleasure like none of them had ever known. They came over and over, orgasm after orgasm, tingling with pure pleasure at every touch, until the beauty took all the energy into herself and Mister Dead and Suspiria regained awareness.
They held each other with tears of happiness at what they had just experienced. They thought they had captured her, but she had truly captured them. They included her in their embrace for several minutes, until Suspiria found the strength to whisper.
“Who are you?”
“Suspiria, I am you. And I am you as well, Mister Dead. My name is Evanine.”
“What do you mean, you are me?”
“I was borne of the love, the passion, the intense sexual energy between you. Every look you shared, every touch, every glance, every embrace, all went towards my creation. I am the manifestation of your love.”
Mister Dead was moved to tears. “I do feel nothing but love for you, yet I love Suspiria no less. She is my goddess, my one true love, my passion. How can this be?”
“To love me and to love her is the same thing. And for you, Suspiria. The best way to explain it is that your love for one another was so great, your passion so immense, that it could not be contained within your mortal bodies.”
“I am in awe, Evanine. We would welcome you into our homes and our lives forever – but we do not possess others, we only control or submit with trust, passion and love. We would not presume to possess even you, who are borne of our love.”
“My lord means to ask whether you will leave now. Whether you will make your own way in the world. Our hearts would now break, but we cannot ask you to do something against your will.”
“Mister Dead, Suspiria – I am yours forever. I know I am free, and with that freedom I choose to belong to you, to touch both of your hearts, for all time.”
They embraced with tears of joy, but as they were all emotional and passionate creatures, these soon turned to tears of passion, if indeed there are such things. There were many more nights, many more passionate embraces, and many, many more outfits created. Soon after their lovely union, the ensembles created by their passion and skill were the envy of all who did not possess them, and the Master and Servant became the most popular shop of any kind in the land. Even the townsfolk of Stuffingham loosened up with a few parades every now and then.
And there were many more stories made, dreams fulfilled, romances romanced – but that is for another time.
They lived happily every after. VERY happily.
CALLING ALL WRITERS/AUTHORS/BLOGGERS!!!
Now that I’ve got your attention I’d like to make you aware of an ongoing project I’ve been spearheading that I am hoping you’ll want to be a part of. It’s a project to benefit a cause that’s close to my heart called LIBSTRONG, a community of friends who have gathered together in support of Libby, a dear young friend who is battling cancer.
We’ve put together a surprise project called WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD not only to raise money but to raise her spirits as she battles her illness. Keep reading to find out what it’s all about and to learn how you too can be involved:
From the WATW site:
Our latest endeavor is called WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD- a fun global project designed for people everywhere to show their support for Libby and her battle against cancer. Bloggers and non-bloggers alike are invited to purchase her LIBSTRONG wristbands and then snap pictures of their wrists against an iconic landmark of their city, state or hometown. Once the photo is taken it is emailed to us and then posted to our GALLERY.
The message behind our project is to show the world how Libby’s strength and determination touch more than just those around her. Her positivity reaches around the world!
When sending a picture please include information noting where the picture was taken. We would be happy to post your name or a link to your blog, although that is not necessary and we will respect all wishes for anonymity. We are requesting snapshots be of wrists wearing wristbands only, so even the most camera shy supporter feels comfortable enough to be involved.
LIBSTRONG wristbands are available for sale individually or in package deals combined with items donated from various blog supporters. Visit our MAKE A DIFFERENCE page for information on how to purchase the package that’s right for you!
To be a part of WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD send your snapshot to:
wristsaroundtheworld@gmail.com
I am asking my fellow bloggers everywhere to purchase at least one wristband not only to raise some much needed money for Libby’s cause, but to show her your support from your very own hometown. Package prices include shipping within the United States only. Since I would like the wristbands to actually go around the world, I would be willing to donate both of my ebooks for free to anyone outside of the United States who purchases even just one LIBSTRONG wristband to offset the cost of shipping which would be the responsibility of the purchaser.
As of the writing of this post, Libby doesn’t know about this project. We’d like to get as many pics around the world as possible and then reveal her site as a gift.
As for my part in the WRISTS AROUND THE WORLD project I’ve decided to donate both my REAPERS WITH ISSUES and THE GODS OF ASPHALT ebooks and paperbacks to be included in wristband package deals. I am also including the blog compilation project F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES for donation once it is completed. Each contributing author’s name of that work will receive an honorary mention on the FRIENDS OF LIBSTRONG page with links to their blogs.
Additionally, if you are an author you can contribute by donating your own books for package deals to be included on their site. For ebooks simply donate a free coupon for your book that others may purchase to raise money for our cause. For information on paperback donations, please contact wristsaroundtheworld@gmail.com for more details.
Thank you everyone for taking the time to stop by Wrists Around The World!
www.wristsaroundtheworld.com
Sleeping Beauty
Today must be our lucky day because we have another F*cked-up Fairy Tale! Rounding out our Northern Trifecta of Canadawesome is none other than that island dweller herself, Kayjai! Go on and pull up a chair and then settle in for a retelling of Sleeping Beauty as you’ve never imagined it…
SLEEPING BEAUTY
Sleeping Beauty
Once, in a land far far away in suburbia Canadia, there lived a King and Queen. The King was very happy to be surrounded by his surely court and bemused by his jovial court clowns. He loved how the clowns and jesters could humiliate themselves for pennies and took great enjoyment in dispensing insults and heckling their comedic monologues. The Queen, who usually enjoyed watching her husband disintegrate into a testosterone filled idiot, now became bored and humiliated for the jesters. Her tone in response to their obvious torment puzzled the King and he questioned her one afternoon following an unusually sophomoric attempt to embarrass one of the clowns by throwing a pie in his face. Her eye roll was obvious.
“What is wrong, my fair Queen? The pie routine usually sends you into fits of joy. Perhaps we should call in the Royal Clown and get him to do his infamous Choke the Mime routine?” “NO! God, no not that. ANYTHING, but that” she stated then saw the disappointed look on her husband’s face. “I’m sorry, dear I just can’t bear the constant boredom and routine of the court. I would so like to have someone to share our joy with. I so want a baby” At these words the King, overjoyed to have finally discovered the true reason for the Queen’s despondent nature, leapt to his feet. “A baby you want and a baby you shall have!” He swept the Queen off of her feet and um…set to work. (Any further details required should be directed to the Snow White and the Seven Stripper essay. This ain’t no Fifty Shades, people)
Months later, the Queen now thrilled with the prospect of finally becoming a mother, prepared the nursery for her new baby. The nursery was a large room decorated with pastel colors and warm blankets with a rocking chair in the corner. She sat in the chair and dreamed of her new baby, when suddenly a vision appeared. She was a woman dressed in black and warned the Queen that her impending arrival was in danger.
“Be afraid, Queen Winnifred. There are forces afoot that will put your little one in danger. Beware of the Tearful Clown. He cannot be trusted”. Queen Winnifred, frightened by the vision, summoned the King and demanded all clowns be cast from the castle and banned from performing in Canadia. The King, obviously pissed that there will be no further entertainment, asked the Queen regarding their banishment. “A vision came to me warning me of The Tearful Clown. She said he would harm our baby! What else was I supposed to do?!” The King, seeing his wife distraught sent her to bed to get some rest. He reluctantly sent all the clowns packing, save for one. His favorite clown, the one who could choke out a mime in less than a minute, was directed to appear without his makeup when in the presence of Queen Winnifred. If only in the King’s presence he was able to perform his routine. The clown agreed and snuck away to the towers until summoned by the King.
The baby girl was born a few weeks later surrounded by the royal midwives and handed gently to the King, who with tears in his eyes, promised to always protect her. Weeks later there was a Royal party to celebrate Princess Aurora’s arrival. Many royals from around the country lavished the fair princess with gifts and well wishes. Suddenly, over the crab cakes, came a most heinous laugh. The vibrant red hair, the red nose the floppy red shoes, Oh No! A clown. The absent-minded King had forgotten all about his favorite clown and he had been locked away in the royal towers for too long. He now appeared in the main foray, looking for a stray mime to choke out. Security was called but not before the clown appeared, tears streaming down his face. The Queen screamed in horror at the apparition of the Tearful Clown and before he could be taken away in shackles he screeched “Upon her sixteenth birthday, that beautiful baby girl you call Aurora will fall into a deep peaceful slumber…FOREVER!!!” Before he could be taken away, six fairy godmothers appeared, apparently having just come from Cinderella’s place and a little hammered from all the champagne.
She lived the good life. The Fairy Six, as they were usually called, placed their wobbly wands together and blessed Princess Aurora with six gifts: Beauty, Grace, Intelligence, Compassion, Curiosity and A Kick Ass Right Hook. That last one was from Fairy Godmother Number Six who was the most inebriated but aware that a good hook is more useful than Fairy Godmother’s blessing of ‘beauty’. ‘What the hell was that?’ she murmured under her breath. ‘Dolt!’
The clown was carried away, stripped of his makeup and banished to the dungeons to live out his days faceless and without a mime to choke.
The next sixteen years were blissfully happy ones for the Queen and King. Princess Aurora gave them endless amounts of joy and endless days of happiness , blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda…she’s perfect and all that. On her sixteenth birthday instead of a Royal Convertible that she was hoping for, Princess Aurora was sent away to live in the forest. “Gee, this sucks royally”she exclaimed. “I mean, really. Who DOES this? Sends their kid away to live among the squirrels and chipmunks? Some weird ass clown ate one too many crab cakes and got carried away, who cares? I got a mean right. I can take care of myself! I’m outta here!” she exclaimed and packed her royal bags and headed to the castle.
Upon entering the doors, she could hear frivolity and jokes emanating from the court entrance. Curious, as she was given that one trait from the Fairy Six, remember? She snuck in to see what the commotion was all about. To her horror she could see clowns, so many it was difficult to tell them apart, laughing and squirting lapel flowers in people’s faces, riding bikes that were too small for them, throwing pies and generally making asses out of themselves. As she entered the room she seemed swallowed up by all the activity and at first, didn’t notice her mother and father asleep in their royal chairs. Upon seeing their lifeless forms, she went quickly to their sides and tried to wake them up. She shook them, slapped their faces and tickled them under their arm pits, (that used to work) but to no avail.
“WAKE THE FUCK UP!” she shouted in their ears, but they didn’t respond. Bereft and saddened that she couldn’t wake her parents, she turned to run to find the servants. She stopped abruptly and came face-to-face with a clown. His prominent tears stood outlined in black running down his face and she let out a laugh. “Hahaha..oh, God you scared me! You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that! Hey, do you know what happened to my parents? I can’t seem to wake them up?” The Tearful Clown, realizing the Princess was unaware of the curse, led her away into the foray of clowns and began reciting a knock-knock joke. She didn’t get it. He wasn’t surprised, but still disappointed. Suddenly he spotted a mime trying to escape the melee and he pounced. The Tearful Clown grabbed the mime by the throat and began the routine.
Princess Aurora confused by all the merriment and the astonished look on the mime’s face suddenly felt very sleepy. Before she could see the end of the routine, she fell swiftly into a deep sleep. The Tearful Clown, triumphant at the Princess’s sleepiness forgot about the mime and let him go. The mime in a sudden mime attack, blitzed the clown with his infamous climbing-the-non-existent-rope routine and sent the Tearful Clown into a state of confusion. He was suddenly singing Smokey Robinsons’ ‘Tears of a Clown’ and wandered aimlessly around the castle until finally, he stumbled onto the royal grounds and fell haplessly into the deep mote. His nose and floppy shoes were all that were left and floated silently downstream.
The Fairy Six, walking home from yet another party at Cinderella’s happened upon the devastation and carnage left by the clowns. They were devastated to find Aurora and all the castle staff sleeping soundly and upon approaching the princess shouted the royal command. “WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Alas, it was no use. They placed Princess Aurora into a bed strewn with rose petals at the top of the tower and stripped the castle of all clown apparatus. The King and Queen eventually awoke to find their daughter in a deep slumber. Queen Winnifred, distraught by her husband’s obvious lack of good judgment and bad taste in comedy, divorced his royal ass and sent him packing. She visited her daughter every day and wished for the day when she could see her awake and happy again.
One day while tending to her garden, Queen Winnifred spotted a young handsome man walking distractedly down the path. She called a greeting to him and asked him in for tea. She asked him if he was from a good family, if he had a fast car and what education he had. He said he wasn’t well educated but had a lot of money which proved good enough for her. Her last question was the most important. “How do you feel about clowns?” she asked and he looked horrified. “CLOWNS!? I HATE CLOWNS!! ARE THEY HERE??!! WHERE!” He suddenly began to panic and it took some time for her to calm him down. She gleefully led him up to the tower room where Princess Aurora continued her sleep. The handsome young man was overcome at her beauty and asked why the princess was sleeping. The Queen detailed the evil curse and suggested to him that he could perhaps attempt to break it by kissing the young girl. He looked a little perplexed by the suggestion, but gave it a whirl nonetheless. He knelt beside the Princess and kissed her softly on the lips. The Queen and young man waited breathlessly, but she did not wake up. “Try again” said the Queen. This time the young man kissed her passionately. Again, the two waited for Princess Aurora to stir. Nothing. Finally, in frustration the Queen asked the young man to shout the royal command. He shrugged his shoulders and shouted “WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Suddenly, Princess Aurora began to stir. Her dark eyelashes began to flutter and she opened her eyes. She spotted the smiling young man and her right hand flew out and decked him squarely in the jaw. “That’s for kissing a sleeping woman. WTF?”
THE END
The Curse And The Gift
Today we’re treated to another F*cked-up Fairy Tale offering from the Great White North. Take a new look at the classic RUMPELSTILTSKIN as seen through the eyes of everyone’s favorite Canook, SIGHTSNBYTES.
THE CURSE AND THE GIFT
*****
THE CURSE AND THE GIFT
What would you give to have things remain as they are? Nice home, new car, wonderful kids, loving wife, good job, friendly neighbors; you get the picture, lucky guy, huh?
What if someone could take this all away with a snap of his tiny, grubby little greedy fingers? What if some miserable, jealous little dwarf could make your life go away and there was nothing you could do about it?
Well, there is something you can do, but that would require making a deal with the little monster, and who really wants to shake hands with the devil? Not me, that’s for sure!
Think back twenty years ago. I was a man like most men, alone in this world, circulating bars and looking, searching for someone who could make this desolate living go away. I found that person in a little man, a mystery man, a miserable man.
He was sitting at the end of the Dead End bar. The place was so gloomy, I am not sure what led me in here in the first place, but I was here, so I did what I had to do to change my life…forever!
In my drunken stupor, I sat next to the guy. Before I got there he was surrounded with beautiful women, women that I would kill to get to know. I wanted to be this little guy. I wanted to know his secret, and I would pay dearly to find it.
He spoke in riddles.
Heute back ich, morgen brau ich,
Übermorgen hol ich mir der Königin ihr Kind;
Ach, wie gut, dass niemand weiß,
dass ich Rumpelstilzchen heiß
What the hell did he mean by this? What the hell was this song, and why is it digging deep into my mind, driving me crazy?
He continued reciting the rhyme, his voice growing lower each time until it was but a whisper and then it was gone.
He looked at me. “Another loser wanders into my bar, in search of something better. What brings you here loser? Why would you want to talk to the man whom nobody remembers?”
“I just…I just noticed your company, these women, who are they?’ I asked.
“They are people who wanted more, wanted beauty and success, and I delivered, simple as that!”
“How, how did you give them what they wanted? Plastic surgery?” I asked.
“No surgery, just magic, and one more important thing, a handshake” he said.
“A handshake? That’s it? I want in” I said, too drunk to make a better decision.
“No problem, but there is more, I can give you anything you desire, but in return, I want your most prized possession, that which you hold dear, and I want it when I come to collect!” He said.
At the time, the one thing I prized was…nothing. My life was in a downward spiral. I had just been fired, then the girlfriend left, then I was evicted from my apartment, what was left?
I shook his hand, half believing him, half believing this was some drunken nightmare that would be gone by morning. With the handshake, he recited a poem in a language I did not understand. I told him I wanted happiness and success, he just laughed and then ‘poof’ he was gone. I closed my eyes, and the morning, I woke up here.
Somewhere in my heart I cannot believe any of this happened. My reality is that this is my reality. That other life is a mirage, a vision of depression, and gone forever.
This morning I began to notice differences. My kids stared at me this morning, like I was someone else. It was like a stranger had taken control of my life. My wife acted scared of me, like I was a threat to her. At work, my boss came down on me for my behavior as well. “There is something about you that I don’t like. I have not seen this side of you before, but you seem to lack confidence” He said. Confidence, the gift of the deal. Without it, I would still be living the deadbeat life I led, still cruising bars and coming home drunk, that is of course if I was still alive.
With this new revelation, I discovered that which I prize most. All those years ago, when I made the deal, I figured that there was nothing in this world that I prized, but now I know.
With this, I seen him. He had been standing between the two offices in the front of the building. Standing at under four feet, with a long red beard and leprechaun-like clothing, I wondered why nobody else commented on his appearance. Curiosity being what it was, I approached the little guy.
“Aha, my loser friend. You did quite well with your gift. I assume you have figured out the gift…and that’s why I am here” he said.
With the power I now possessed, I ordered the guard to remove this vagrant, but the guard just looked at me like I was delusional. “Sir, there’s nobody here but us guys” he said, to my horror.
I am the only one who can see him, that is clear now. Nothing more I can do but walk away.
“Walk away and all will be gone. You will wake up in the same bar you passed out in, twenty years ago. A few hours from that moment you will be dead, hit by a drunken driver. Nobody will care if you are alive or dead. This wonderful life you now lead will be gone. But you can change this, and make me go away forever.”
“All you have to do to make me leave is to recite my name. This is not an easy task, as nobody knows who I am.”
With that, he laughed loudly and recited the song once again, this time in a language I did not understand.
Heute back ich, morgen brau ich,
Übermorgen hol ich mir der Königin ihr Kind;
Ach, wie gut, dass niemand weiß,
dass ich Rumpelstilzchen heiß
At least he thought I would not understand it. Little did he know that with all the confidence I received from ‘the gift’, I enrolled in university, studying languages from the world over. I am proficient in over thirteen languages, one of them being German. The translation was loose, but I managed to make out a name at the end.
Today I brew, tomorrow I bake,
And then the child away I’ll take;
For little knows my royal dame
Rumpelstiltskin is my name!
I know it, I know it, you creepy little bastard, your name is Rumpelstiltskin!
And with that he was gone. My life returned to normal. My wife and kids loved me, I got a raise at work, and I continued to be a success in whatever I done with my life. I never seen the little guy again.
I was recently honored by the United Federation for the advancement of Little People. That’s right, before the little guy disappeared forever, he instilled on me a curse. The curse took me from a man of over six feet to one of four foot tall. The strange thing, nobody seems to care. It is like I am the same person I have been since the deal, except for the confidence, it grows more each day!
The Tortoise and O’Hare
Today we have an offering from the Great White North in the form of a fable told by the illustrious Archon’s Den. Here is his take on the classic fable The Tortoise and the Hare!
THE TORTOISE AND O’HARE
Once upon a time, just outside New Haven, Conn., a little rabbit was born. His parents lovingly called him Bunny, though, as he got older he felt he outgrew that name. Bunny was very smart. He worked and studied hard at school and got great marks. Bunny wanted to make something of himself, so with outstanding SAT scores, he applied to Yale.
His parents paid for his education with bags of plump, juicy carrots that they saved up over the years, and the occasional sack of beets. Bunny applied himself and graduated from the Business Management course with flying colors.
He told his parents that he was going to get a job as a financial advisor, and hopped his way down to New York City. After waving his diploma under a few noses, he got himself hired by no less than Merrill Lynch. Here, he insisted on celebrating his Irish Rabbit heritage, and began going by the name Seamus O’Hare.
While all this was occurring, just south of the border in Mexico, there was a young turtle named Diego Tortuga trying to follow the same path. His parents traded mescal to pay to have him attend a decent community college. At least it was a real school, rather than just one of those diploma mills.
When he graduated with marks as good as O’Hare’s, he kissed his mother and father goodbye….verrryy sloowwlyy, and floated across the Rio Grande. Then he managed to hitch-hike his way all the way to New York with a trucker, hauling back a semi, loaded with Corona beer. With great good fortune, he also managed to obtain a position with Merrill Lynch, and began working in the same division as O’Hare, who was immediately dismissive of him.
O’Hare was a high energy broker, often leaping at new investments without doing enough research. He made money for his clients, and for himself, but was often distracted, by a new girlfriend or a car-show at the Gardens. He made fun of Tortuga’s slow, plodding, but steadily productive methods of money management.
One day, after Diego had defended his careful planning, Seamus O’Hare suggested a “race.” The first one within a year to achieve a personal worth of $1,000,000, would receive another ten thousand dollars from the loser. Tortuga accepted the challenge, and the Race was on.
Shortly afterwards, the firm was joined by a Chinese weasel, named Wun Raht Gai, educated in Beijing. As he ensconced himself within the firm, and learned of the competition between the two youngsters, his was disdainful of them. “Silly amateurs.” he said.
Time passed, and the competition proceeded, with the fortunes of both Tortuga and O’Hare increasing, Diego’s steadily, and Seamus’ by leaps and bounds. One day, unbeknownst to each other, they both received a letter from Wun Raht Gai, offering to help them cross the one million dollar finish line.
Tortuga’s letter said that the Chinese weasel had got wind of a new process to remove Melamine from baby food. O’Hare’s letter told of a new system to get the lead out of children’s toys. If they would just invest a quarter million dollars with him, he would double it for them within thirty days.
Wun Raht Gai’s letters also said that he didn’t want these investment opportunities to be overheard at the office, so they should each bring the funds in cash to his apartment, to ensure privacy.
No-one seems to know exactly what happened to O’Hare, and Diego the tortoise. They each just stopped coming to work at Merrill Lynch. The Chinese weasel prospered in their absence, taking over part of each of their *books*. He moved into a beautiful penthouse apartment. There were some rumors of him throwing a banquet and soiree for potential investors, where the featured dishes were rabbit stew and turtle soup.
Fifty Shades of White??
People, I am disillusioned. No, I am more than that- I am traumatized. Because my innocent little British Sweetie Pie just wrote the raunchiest retelling of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves that I’ve ever read. Hang on to your caps chaps, because I bring you Snow White and the Seven Strippers??
“I am leaving tonight!” thought Snow as she packed her bags cautiously. All her step mother cared about was her father’s money and she got it when he passed away. Snow knew the woman was jealous but banning her from going to university, this was a whole new low! Any boy Snow brought home her step mother convinced her they didn’t like her and Snow had never had a proper relationship. Leaving was the only way she could live her life how she wanted.
As Snow stormed past the beautiful ruby Red Mercedes Mclaren SLR her father had bought her for her seventeenth birthday, she backtracked for a moment. It was hard to leave when you had everything but she couldn’t stay for luxuries. Snow tapped the car and forced herself to leave. Marching down the street Snow bumped into a street advertiser who offered her a leaflet. It read ‘New VIP Bar Opening Tonight, All Drinks £1” she thought for a moment. Her step-mother had never let her go clubbing. Snow was going to do it; she was going to get smashed!!
Snow walked up to the new bar and walked through the doors; she stormed straight to the bar and asked the bartender for a double vodka and cola because that is what her step-mother ordered when she wanted to get drunk. She took the drink and gulped it down in one. She smiled; she had never felt this free before.
A friend from University was sitting across the bar, Snow couldn’t remember her name but she ordered another drink, downed it and walked over to her friend “WANT TO DANCE,” she shouted but the girl couldn’t hear her, then Snow remembered her name was Zoe, Snow walked closer to her and said “Zoe, do you wanna dance?” Zoe smiled and said “Yes actually, I have been stood up and could do with a friend,” Snow led her to the dance floor and they started dancing. They were shortly joined by a very good looking man who passed them a leaflet “I would love you girls to join us later,” he said before winking and walked over to another crowd of girls. The man had jet black hair and beautiful blue eyes; he had stubble on his face and walked around the club with a cheeky smile. The leaflet said “TIME OF YOUR LIFE, a club with a difference,” Zoe looked at Snow and pointed at the opening times “It doesn’t open till eleven,” Snow looked at her diamond incrusted watch and it was only nine but she was determined to have a good time “Let’s get plenty to drink before then,” she said pulling Zoe back towards the bar. At 11:30, Snow and Zoe stumbled to ‘time of your life’. Snow looked at the man at the booth at the door and said “How much do you want?” the man laughed and said “The shows has already started but if you still wanna go in its £15 each,” Snow passed the man £100 and said “Keep the change,” Zoe giggle as they walked into the club barely holding each other up. They were both shocked when they walked into a revamped theatre; they took a seat at the back near the bar and waited for the next part of the show to start.
A tall, gorgeous lady walked onto the stage and said “I hope you ladies enjoyed the first act but now onto the second, you all know this guy, give it up for Friendly!!” The women around them screamed in anticipation. A woman next to Snow had a huge stack of five pound notes on the table in front of her so Snow presumed she knew what was going on. Suddenly a beautiful man’s voice sang “You know I know how, to make them stop and share as I zone out,” he slowly danced onto the stage in a suit and took his jacket off “The club can’t even handle me right now,” as he stopped singing the women went wild. Snow had never seen anything like this but she was captured by what she was seeing.
“Watch you, watching me I go all out,” he sang as he sat on the edge of the stage and the women closest to him stroked his muscly chest and abs. “The club can’t even handle me right now,” he finished singing and the music started. He started dancing but really dancing, he was amazing. His shagging blond hair was dancing with him and his muscle rippled as he delivered every move with passion and precision. He slid across the stage and jumped onto a girls lap, he was dancing on her and she was gridding on him. He jumped onto the table and ripped his pants off. Snows jaw dropped as he used his hat to cover his dignity. As he left the stage the women came back on and said “Did everyone enjoy that?” Snow was too shocked too scream and she needed another drink. As she sat back in her seat, the most beautiful man she had ever seen stepped onto the stage in a camouflage trousers and a white vest top. The white vest top didn’t leave much to the imagination as all of his muscles protruded through the material. He man danced down the ales of the theatre, pulling girls to their feet and dancing with them. Snow bit her lip as he dance towards her, he was her perfection. He had dark hair and dark eyes. As he danced back towards the stage, women sighed and pleaded for him to dance with them.
Seven acts and nine shot later, Snow was on cloud nine. As the club emptied Snow found a nice comfortable bit of concrete and fell asleep.
“We should really wake her up,” said Flirty as he stared at the beautiful girl asleep on the road. Frisky nodded at him and kicked her. Flirty shot him an angry look but Frisky simply shrugged back. The girl looked around and realised she was asleep on the road outside a strip club. Her hair was stuck up in the air and her clothes were on backwards (Meaning at some point last night she must have taken them off). Flirty looked her up and down, he didn’t know what to say. “Are you alright?” Frisky said as the girl squinted at them both. She looked at him but the only thing she could remember from the night before was running away from home. She was confused but asked “Do you have a place for me to stay?” Flirty and Frisky were taken back, Frisky shook his head “Erm no, no girls allowed,” but Flirty had a different idea. “How long do you want to stay?” Flirty said before Frisky could stop him. The girl fluttered her eyelashes and said “Only till I can find myself a place,” Flirty smiled and added “What is your name?” the girl blushed “Snow White,” she whispered in embarrassment, Flirty smiled “I am Flirty and this is Frisky,” The girl looked at the both before nodding. Frisky pointed down the street and said “Come on then.”
Snow slowly realised she was going home with too strapping young men. She started staring at them and taking in their feathers. Flirty was tall, dark and handsome but Frisky had long brown hair and rough stubble on his face. When they arrived at the block of flats, Snow asked “Which one is yours?” the men turned around and smiled, Frisky answered “All of them, all seven flats,”
“For all seven men,” Flirty added with a big grin on his face. Snow suddenly felt warn inside, seven absolutely gorgeous men in one building, she was glad she ran away from home.
Snow placed the one bag she had with her on the table and sat on the sofa. The flats looked awful from the outside, dull and run down but on the inside they were luxurious. Snow wondered why the men lived here and how they got the money for such expensive things but she didn’t want to be rude and ask. Flirty walked in the room with another man with Blond hair and striking green eyes, he was very muscly and very attractive. He walked over to Snow and said “I am Friendly, please to meet you,” Snow just nodded but she had a feeling she had seen him before. He blushed and sat on the other sofa, Flirty looked at Snow and said “You will have to come to work with us, Fancy doesn’t want you here alone but I think I have a job you can do,” He winked which also seemed familiar to Snow. Flirty got his car keys and encourage the others to show Snow to the car. Snow was in the car with Flirty, Frisky and Friendly but she was told that Funny, Fancy, Funky and Fizzy were in the other car.
When they reached the place they had called work, Snow noticed it was a dance studio. They walked into a huge studio and Snow sighed at her reflection straight away. Her usually neat hair was all over the pace, she combed it with her fingers back into a Black bob it usually was and felt instantly better. As soon as Friendly started dancing, Snows memories from the night before came flooding back “OMG YOU’RE MALE STRIPPERS!” she screamed as the seven men stared at her. The men just laughed “I am guessing you can now remember last night then,” Funny said as he finished laughing “No,” Snow answered and she was mortified. Flirty looked at her and said “You stayed after the show and was drinking with us, you were telling us what you would do to us behind closed doors, and you were being pretty…”
“Erotic,” added Frisky as Flirty struggle to finish his sentence. Snow was shocked; she was not usually like this at all. Flirty looked at her “Our front lady quit last night, I though you could fill in for her,” he whispered as reality suddenly dawned over Snow and she turned to leave. Fancy, one of the wiser of the young men then stepped up and said “Look Snow, you came here looking for something else, you ran away from home and you have nothing to go back too, it’s do or die for you so why don’t you just give it a shot?” Fancy’s word rung in Snows ears. Snow had gone from being a pampered princess to being a widow’s slave, a life which she only ran away from last night and was willing to go back already. She needed to prove to herself that she didn’t need that life, that she could earn money for herself, she turned around and nodded at fancy
“Yes, you’re right,” she said and the men smiled “Welcome to the team,” Fancy stated before handing her over to Funky who was going to teach her the ropes. Funky had short curly ginger hair and lovely blue eyes, he seemed to be shy compared to the other but the man could dance, all the men could dance!
The first thing Funky did was pull out a costume, it was a sexy ringmistress costume and it was lovely. The jacket was blue, the waistcoat was yellow, and it had a white shirt, it also came with black skin tight shorts. When snow tried it on and she felt absolutely amazing. Flirty wolf whistled from the back of the studio as Snow studied herself in the mirror. Funky then went through how the night flows. Funky sat down next to Snow as she watched the men rehears “We open Thursday, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, 11:00 till 2 but the show is only 11:15 till 12:45, Ten minutes per set, opening, all seven of our acts and a closing set, go it,” Funky said and Snow nodded, Funky watched as Snow seemed mesmerised by the dancing the men were doing. He looked at her and said “Can you dance Snow?” she shook her head and said “My dad took me out of dance classes when I was younger and pushed me into maths,”
“Did you still want to dance?” Snow turned to look at Funky but didn’t reply. Funky dropped it and continued teaching Snow “So your job is to introduce us and keep the crowd pumped so they give us more tips,” she nodded and Funky went to join the others rehearsing.
Flirty ran over to Snow, pulled her up and said “We are finished now and better go get ready for tonight,” Flirty pulled her really close and Snow could fell his muscles on her body, she didn’t want to admit how aroused Flirty made her feel but he was perfect. Flirty turned and walk away as if he knew she would follow, as if he knew he had her screaming for him on the inside.
Friendly walked out to the car with Snow and she wanted to know more about the man who had fascinated her so much the night before. “You are an amazing dancer,” She said trying to start up a conversation with him “Thank you,” He said before blushing. Snow was amazed by his modesty; she didn’t think he knew how good he was. “As dancers go, I think you are one of the best I have ever seen,” Friendly shook his head “The women don’t come to see me dance, they come to watch me take my clothes off and then they push for me to take them home to fulfil their fantasies,” Friendly said while getting in the car. This filled Snows head with more questions “Do any off you have girlfriends?” the three men in the car shook their heads “Who you want to share your boyfriend with hundreds of other women?” said Frisky with a smiled on his face. Flirty shook his head “Frisky likes to take his fans home and give them what they want, Friendly and I stopped doing that a long time ago,”
“Why did you stop?” Snow asked.
“Because women come home with us, get everything they want, a night of passion and pleasure then in the morning they go back to reality, a family, a husband and a perfect life, they just use us to live on the edge for one night,” Friendly said with heavy heart. “They want more, I give them more, its how I want to live and it keeps me full,” Frisky said, he said those words in a like he was a hunter and women with dull and repetitive sex lives were the pray, he finished his sentence with “I aim to please,” and chuckled all the way back to the flats. The men spent the rest of the afternoon getting costumes ready and packing the car but Flirty took time out too come see Snow who was having a nap ready to stay up most of the night.
Flirty gently knocked on the door and walked into the room topless. His muscles rippled as he moved and this made something inside of Snow sing. Flirty sat on the bed next to Snow and she sat up straight so she was fact to face with him, his gorgeous brown eyes gazed into hers as he said “We are setting off soon, I thought you might want to get ready,” Snow smiled at him but what she really wanted to do was just jump on him. Snow was very caged at home, she had only ever kissed a boy when she was younger and she hadn’t really thought about it since but these men turned her on, they really set her going and she had to think twice about kiss Flirty. Flirty react over Snow to open a draw on the night table. He pulled put a wallet and slowly brushed his hand against Snows legs as he put the wallet in his pocket, if she was going to do it, she was going to have to do it now. Snow lent in really close to Flirty’s lips and bit hers, to do it or not but Flirty took things into his own hands and kissed her. She was shocked at first but as he licked her lips with his tongue she started to relax. Wearing only one of Flirty’s old shirts Snow was already half naked and Flirty took advantage of that rubbing his hands all over her body, teasing and pleasing her until she wanted to beg for him to do it, to just fuck her but he had other ideas. He slowly got up and started walking away “What are you doing?” said Snow disappointing and pining for more “If I just gave it to you, the excitement is lost; I have to keep up the tempo,” he whispered before walking out.
Snow got dress into jeans and a t-shirt ready for the car ride to the Club, when she walked out onto the street she realised an ex-boyfriend shouting her. She walked up to him and asked “What are you doing here?”
“Your step mother wants you to come home,” He replied as he opened the car door. Snow shook her head and walked away “You don’t belong here Snow,” the Ex shouted “You are from a land of millionaires and socialites, this is a few pounds and drop outs,”
“Everyone can change,” Snow shouted back as the Ex got in the car and slammed his door.
Snow washed her face in the toilets before the show; she was really nervous and didn’t want to go out onto the stage. She saw a shadow behind her and she turned around. It was only Flirty, he picked her up and pinned her against the wall, Snow could feel something hard pressing against her legs and it was making her excited. Flirty kissed her and Snow kissed him back, slipping her tongue in and out of his month gently. Flirty was struggling to contain himself and pressed her harder against the wall. He placed his hand on her thigh and slowly stroked her up to the top of her legs, just before he used his fingers to stroke her insides Flirty backed off. He placed her back on the floor and gently kissed her on the forehead “See you after the show Snow,” he said before giving her a cheeky smile and leaving her desperate for him.
Snow leapt onto the stage and shouted to the rowdy audience “Are you ready ladies?” they screams as they knew what was coming. Snow was dazed by all the women, there were hundred and they were all waning one things, these seven men to take their clothes off for them. As the seven men ran onto the stage in their cowboy uniforms, the women screamed even louder and threw money onto the stage. Women stood up from out their seats just to get a touch of the men or an acknowledging wink. All the women wanted to be danced with as the men picked women out the crowd. This was what they paid for. All night the women were throwing money at the seven men and all night Snow had her eyes on her prize, she wanted Flirty and she wanted him bad.
When they finally got back to the flats, some of the men had invited women to come back with them and hurried into their bedrooms. Friend said goodnight and walked into his room alone. Once Flirty and Snow were alone he picked her up and walked into the bedroom with her in his arms. When he got to the bedroom he threw her down on the bed and took his shirt off, his beautiful body was something he used to turn ladies on and it worked at charm with Snow. She lay back on the bed and waited for him to crawl on top of her. He hovered over her and pulled her top off, and then he kissed all the way up to her lips before rest his body on top of hers. Snow smiled with delight as he kissed and nibbled on her neck and pushed his hips against hers. He pressed the hard bulge in his pants against her jeans which she just wanted to rip off. Somehow Flirty seemed to know what Snow wanted and he pulled down her jeans in hast while she unbuckled his belt and threw it to the ground allowing for his jeans to just slide off. At this point Snow was ready to beg for it, which gave her an Idea. She stood him up and got on her knees, now this she had never done before but she was ready to give it a try, she downed his boxers and exposed the only part of Flirty that the women at the club didn’t see. She took it in her hand and slowly paced it into her mouth. When she looked up, Flirty had the biggest grin on his face. This was what made men happy. The fact that snow was completely naked and giving a man a blow job that she had only met two days ago didn’t embarrass her, it excited her! She could defiantly get used to this new life. As Flirty started to find it hard to hold onto his load he pulled her up and kissed her quickly, he pushed her onto the bed and stroked her with his fingers. She didn’t know what to do, she wanted to scream and just before she did Flirty filled her mouth with his tongue and gave her something to concentrate on other than the pleasure she was feeling. As she felt the pleasure growing inside her Flirty placed himself inside her, just a little bit at first, he trusted slowly and gently but when he felt Snows muscles relax he got faster and harder. Snow felt the pleasure bubble over inside and she let out a little whimper. Flirty smiled before dropping onto the bed next to her. Snow rolled over and hugged him, they fell to sleep and Snow was happy for once.
The next morning Snow woke up but the men were gone. Flirty had left her a note on his mirror “Make yourself at home, we will be back after rehearsal” Snow sat in the living area and turned on the TV. Suddenly there was a buzz from the door. Snow walked up to the intercom and asked who it was “Snow it’s me, we need to talk,” The sound of her step-mothers voice tore through Snow like a hurricane but she knew she had to let her in, so she did.
Snows step mother sat across from her and said “I will make us some coffee,” Snow just let her do it because she knew she wasn’t going to go home with her. Snow took a sip from the drink her step mother had given her and immediately felt funny, before she knew it Snow blacked out.
When the men got home they found the door open and they ran inside. They found Snow on the floor and instantly took her to the hospital. The doctor told the Seven Strippers that Snow White had been drugged and she might never wake up. The other men left Flirty to watch over her while they piece together what had happened at the flats. While Snow was unconscious, the seven men pieced together what had happened and her step-mother was arrested. After 3 months the doctors discussed how unethical it was too keep Snow White on life support and decided to turn it off. Flirty walked in the room and said goodbye to Snow. “I hope you can hear me Snow because I want you to wake up, I was to talk to you again, I want to watch you dance and I want to make your life better, please just wake up,” Flirty kissed her on the lips and walked to excite the room. Unexpectedly with a cough, Snow uttered the words “I am awake,” Flirty spun around filled with joy. The doctors ran into the room followed by the other six strippers. The doctors looked at each other “This has never happened before,” they mumbled between themselves.
When Snow was finally allowed home, she couldn’t feel anymore content with going home with the seven strippers.
Snow and Flirty lived happily for around two weeks before a new act joined the group called Prince Charming and Snow fell madly in love with him. It turns out that Prince Charming was happy to share and Snow got the best of both worlds.
She was a very happy girl!!













