Fairy Tales = Subs = Abuse

[Wednesday'sRose]

It's been a long time since I read Beowolf (like 10 years), but as I recall it's pretty morbid and bloody, too.

Beowulf isn't a fairy tale and it was never meant to be. It was originally a saga coming out of Viking Age storytelling in Norse society. Sagas generally came out of the drunken stories of men at feast which were mostly grand tales of adventure and word-play designed to one-up each other. The best part is that it got so popular that the Christian missionaries decide to come along and rearrange it to their purposes of conversion and they were the ones to write it down. Hence, the older version is now lost. There have been published efforts of retelling the story without the Christianized pieces in order to get it back closer to the original, but the exact story is pretty well lost forever. The version closest to the original is much better when understood for what it was, a tale of heroics and bravery from the Norse perspective at the time. It was never meant to be the morals of Christians or the times it has come into. These were different people in a different culture and the story has just been adopted by others. Besides, I doubt the early Christian missionaries saw it as much gorier than the Old Testament or the hellfire sermons that children were raised to fear.

Just two cents from someone who happens to like fairy tales and thinks that children are too oversensitized about everything today. I doubt anyone really thought anything amiss in Grimm's Fairytales when they came out, but now people get up in arms about the watered down Disney versions of them. *shrug* They are historic to when they are written and history isn't always pretty.

 

[witcha]

Fairy tales were ok I suppose when I was young..but nothing too special..

now on the other hand..(as some people know here..lol) that's how I fall asleep after nitemares..listening to fairy tales..

 

[TaintedB]

Even as a kid I knew there was something wrong with Snow White and those dwarfs.

I knew there was something "up" with them, but I didn't see it as particularly wrong.

This thesis seems to be giving a slightly newer and more comprehensive twist to an older feminist idea: the railing against many women's passive acceptance of the "knight in shining armour" myth: that if they are just passive and a good girl, the white knight would come riding out of nowhere and sweep them off their feet. Back in the 70s everybody was saying that Cinderella Complex girls (wannabe princesses?) were heading down the old ugly road to spousal abuse. Dozens of books and papers were written about this: google "cinderella complex," to see what I mean.

Sure, this grad student has expanded the thesis to include other fractured fairytales, but to me s/he misses a couple of important points. The first is that media-influenced girls who don't get read fairy tales can still learn the same "lessons" in the TV shows and movies they watch and the music that they listen to. What is "My Fair Lady" (I rewatched this recently, so I know!) if not a sort of twisted Cinderella Story? There still is huge power-exchange fantasy fodder in visual media, although maybe less so now in these politically correct, humiliate-the-man-in-media days than there used to be, and misogny's last remaining bastion remains pop music.

I kind of agree that certain fairy tales give female children who are submissively inclined something to hang their libidos on at an early age--I cetainly liked the stories where the women were imprisoned--but I am definitely on the nature side of the nature/nurture issue: I think such tales awaken something that is already within the child, although perhaps latent. In other words, she "recognizes" the tale as being relevant to who she is. I also want to know why those of us who are submissive in nature and who were exposed to a hage variety of these tales, as I was, didn't glom on to some other theme in them. A large number of these tales do not give the "female = submissive" message. The Grimms corpus is kind of like the Bible: its big enough and varied enough that you can find almost any damn thing in it you want to find.

Second point: as straights always seem to do, this "scholar" is confusing normal and happily submissive women with the very self-destructive and often not particularly submissive women who are in abusive relationships for reasons other than erotic or even emotional submission. Sure there is some crossover between these two groups, but in the crudely indiscriminate non-kinky eyes, we "all look same." :/

Last point: this study focuses attention on the victim, thus making the source of her "problem" her submissive nature. I don't think it would ever occur to anyone in a society where women are not so consistently treated with violence to see submissiveness as a problem or a disease. It would be accepted as just another human variation, no better or worse that other specific sexual interests. Such looser and saner socieities have existed in the past. Many Native American cultures are a good example of that. A few such cultures may still exist today but if so, I don't know about them. Most modern cultures are so utterly seeped in violence (and so blindly unaware of that fact) that they cannot help but see anything that might lead to voluntary exposure to any sort of violence (such as submissiveness) as a horrible blight, a twisted deviation.

 

[TaintedB]

I counter old fairy tales with modern ones for the girls. My favorite modern on is The Practical Princess. She uses her brains to take out the dragon rather than wait for knights to be slain, or be sacrificed because her idiot father doesn't want to go against tradition.

The Grimms collection has many such tales. The clever and resourceful young woman who uses her wits to to prevail against extreme violence and seemingly overwhelming odds is a very common and--to immediately re-use a word that one shouldn't use more than one a year--apocryphal theme. I've seen it in folk tales that are several millenia old.

 

[jasonlf]

I knew there was something "up" with them, but I didn't see it as particularly wrong.

This thesis seems to be giving a slightly newer and more comprehensive twist to an older feminist idea: the railing against many women's passive acceptance of the "knight in shining armour" myth: that if they are just passive and a good girl, the white knight would come riding out of nowhere and sweep them off their feet. Back in the 70s everybody was saying that Cinderella Complex girls (wannabe princesses?) were heading down the old ugly road to spousal abuse. Dozens of books and papers were written about this: google "cinderella complex," to see what I mean.

Sure, this grad student has expanded the thesis to include other fractured fairytales, but to me s/he misses a couple of important points. The first is that media-influenced girls who don't get read fairy tales can still learn the same "lessons" in the TV shows and movies they watch and the music that they listen to. What is "My Fair Lady" (I rewatched this recently, so I know!) if not a sort of twisted Cinderella Story? There still is huge power-exchange fantasy fodder in visual media, although maybe less so now in these politically correct, humiliate-the-man-in-media days than there used to be, and misogny's last remaining bastion remains pop music.

I kind of agree that certain fairy tales give female children who are submissively inclined something to hang their libidos on at an early age--I cetainly liked the stories where the women were imprisoned--but I am definitely on the nature side of the nature/nurture issue: I think such tales awaken something that is already within the child, although perhaps latent. In other words, she "recognizes" the tale as being relevant to who she is. I also want to know why those of us who are submissive in nature and who were exposed to a hage variety of these tales, as I was, didn't glom on to some other theme in them. A large number of these tales do not give the "female = submissive" message. The Grimms corpus is kind of like the Bible: its big enough and varied enough that you can find almost any damn thing in it you want to find.

Second point: as straights always seem to do, this "scholar" is confusing normal and happily submissive women with the very self-destructive and often not particularly submissive women who are in abusive relationships for reasons other than erotic or even emotional submission. Sure there is some crossover between these two groups, but in the crudely indiscriminate non-kinky eyes, we "all look same." :/

Last point: this study focuses attention on the victim, thus making the source of her "problem" her submissive nature. I don't think it would ever occur to anyone in a society where women are not so consistently treated with violence to see submissiveness as a problem or a disease. It would be accepted as just another human variation, no better or worse that other specific sexual interests. Such looser and saner socieities have existed in the past. Many Native American cultures are a good example of that. A few such cultures may still exist today but if so, I don't know about them. Most modern cultures are so utterly seeped in violence (and so blindly unaware of that fact) that they cannot help but see anything that might lead to voluntary exposure to any sort of violence (such as submissiveness) as a horrible blight, a twisted deviation.

Which is why it is important, as I said in another thread, for BDSM to get recognized by the general public, the same way homosexuality is. (Not saying I'm FOR gay rights, but that's another convo) I think that people should see bdsm as a life choice.

Anytime something is on the underground, it will seem to be a bit more 'dirty'.

 

[TaintedB]

Ok: Rumplestilskin:...

LOL, it looks like someone did get you started. I agree with most of what you said, but why are you surprised that a pregnant woman would crave a turnip? Makes as much sense as eating pickles and icecream (together), I would think.

Little mermaid is a pretty horrific tale, but she was a Hans Christian Anderson creation, a totally different, not to mention more modern, beast than a Grimm's invention, IMO. :/

I see Rumplestilskin as a fairer story than most: he does give the poor girl a chance, an "out": she can guess his name and be done with him. In my opinion this story teaches you: no matter how down on your luck you are, don't be stupid enough to take bets or chances you can't win, because if you do the only way you'll get out of their unfortunate consequences is through some highly unlikely or miraculous cheat. Of course, it could also teach you the opposite: that when your situation is totally fucked, don't worry be happy because someone or something will magically come along and get you out of it. :/

 

[TaintedB]

Oh, believe me, I'm not a big Romeo and Juliet fan either. They were both melodramatic idiots.

YMMV with that one.

 

[TaintedB]

My problem with fairy tales is looks. Ever notice how just about every pre-Disney fairy tale has a fairly tall, statuesque, usually blond haired and blue eyed but definitely Anglo Saxon princess? Most of the witches, hags, ugly stepsisters, sorceresses and the like are small, dark and evil looking. "

I must be really taken with this thread. I am responding to nearly every post in it. :/

Yep, the European tales are all like that because that was the"type" they admired. Maybe the conquering Vikings stuck some sort of unconscious message in the defeated European lands that "tall and blonde" was where it's at?

There are hundreds of thousands of translated "world tales," out there in which the princesses are dusky jewels with raven locks, and the occasional blonde to pop in is usually some weird abino monster-freak, but these take a little digging to find. They aren't prominently displayed in the children's section of Western bookstores.

 

[Quint]

I love Hans Christian Anderson. I have a huge volume of his stories and very fond memories of reading them at a young age and being completely encompassed in the imagery and wonder. Most of them had unethical characters and unhappy endings, but I cannot believe I would have the same fascination with life without being exposed to fairy tales such as those all my childhood.

And yes, I can see some correlation between identifying with the females in such stories and my submission, but not really the way that woman painted it. I just like to be the center of the story--like I said, they rarely had happy endings so I identify with the struggle and pain as much as anything else.

 

[arctic-stranger]

cut.....

There are hundreds of thousands of translated "world tales," out there in which the princesses are dusky jewels with raven locks, and the occasional blonde to pop in is usually some weird abino monster-freak, but these take a little digging to find. They aren't prominently displayed in the children's section of Western bookstores.

they are getting much easier to find. My favorites are the Anazi stories. They are orginally African folk tales, which made their way to Jamaica. Anazi is a trickster, who is always getting in and out of trouble...sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses...but always interesting

 

[graceanne]

Um, Gracie? You've not read the original Sleeping Beauty. In the original German tale that the Brothers Grim are reputed to have used for their source material, he fucked her. Yup, hacked his way through the thorn bushes and whatnot, climbed the tower, cut off her clothes and raped a senseless female. Just what I want my kiddos to look forward to.

Now why doesn't that surprise me. I haven't read all the original versions, cause they're nasty.

My problem with fairy tales is looks. Ever notice how just about every pre-Disney fairy tale has a fairly tall, statuesque, usually blond haired and blue eyed but definitely Anglo Saxon princess? Most of the witches, hags, ugly stepsisters, sorceresses and the like are small, dark and evil looking. Luckily, I always thought Cinderella was a wuss and didn't have much patience with fairy tales. I remember thinking "Why is she waiting for Prince Doodyhead Charming to rescue her? Steal stepma's brooch, run off and starve in the city, dress up as a boy and go to sea, but for God's sake, don't just SIT there!"

Cinderella was an idiot. She also was extreemly smug and not as good as they want others to think. I'm sorry, she was stuck up about her better looks, and her 'gentle' nature, and small feet, and all that. *gag* No wonder the steps hated her.

 

[graceanne]

Another thing that bugs me about fairy tales is that there aren't any postitive female influences in them. Either their mother is dead and their dad's a dick, or they have an 'evil' step mother.

 

[ShyGuy68]

I love Hans Christian Anderson.

*cough cough* slight correction here, it's Andersen And strangely enough in Denmark he's mostly know only as H. C. Andersen.

 

[snowy ciara]

Yep, the European tales are all like that because that was the"type" they admired. Maybe the conquering Vikings stuck some sort of unconscious message in the defeated European lands that "tall and blonde" was where it's at?

There are hundreds of thousands of translated "world tales," out there in which the princesses are dusky jewels with raven locks, and the occasional blonde to pop in is usually some weird abino monster-freak, but these take a little digging to find. They aren't prominently displayed in the children's section of Western bookstores.

Right, it's that last line that's important. I hate the idea of becoming one world culture, homogenized and sanitized for our consumption/protection. I *want* to see more diversity in the depictions in some fairy tales. I say some, because I'd rather toss most of them out of the window. Even in the western European culture, not all of the people were/are tall and blond. I'm at the point where I will not buy my nieces and nephews any "traditional" fairy tales, nor will I buy them Barbie and her ilk. I won't buy into all this one standard of beauty crapola. I will however, provide them with a nearly endless supply of age appropriate manga and Lego's and Zoo Tycoon add-ons. Well, as unlimited as a college student's budget will allow.

 

[TaintedB]

Right, it's that last line that's important. I hate the idea of becoming one world culture, homogenized and sanitized for our consumption/protection. I *want* to see more diversity in the depictions in some fairy tales. I say some, because I'd rather toss most of them out of the window. Even in the western European culture, not all of the people were/are tall and blond. I'm at the point where I will not buy my nieces and nephews any "traditional" fairy tales, nor will I buy them Barbie and her ilk. I won't buy into all this one standard of beauty crapola. I will however, provide them with a nearly endless supply of age appropriate manga and Lego's and Zoo Tycoon add-ons. Well, as unlimited as a college student's budget will allow.

Good for you about the Barbies! I'm convinced those dolls mess with girls' minds, even the dolls that aren't blonde, making them feel pretty insecure and inadeqate when they become teens and they don't magically turn into Barbie. It's part of this awful "you'll never measure up" conditioning that women get. I don't think the conditioning is conscious, or not too much of it. But this aspect, women's insecurity, is sure preyed upon by the beauty industry. :/

 

[babiesmiles]

...... nor will I buy them Barbie and her ilk. I won't buy into all this one standard of beauty crapola.

uh my first Barbie ... ( it seems middle age seen by now ) was a black haired one , very mediterranean , my second one was african black ... only my third one was blond typical Barbie ! Was I lucky or the manufacturers have double standards in importations abroad ? ??

 

[snowy ciara]

You can get the African American barbies here, and sometimes brunettes. Try buying the Japanese or Asian ones for under 40 bucks, though. I've heard rumours of a Native American one, but never seen one. The brunettes look kind of sort of like Barbie goes Goth, though. You've still got the fair skinned blond thing going on. Just with a bad dye job. Now if they just had realistic proportions.

 

[babiesmiles]

You can get the African American barbies here, and sometimes brunettes. Try buying the Japanese or Asian ones for under 40 bucks, though. I've heard rumours of a Native American one, but never seen one. The brunettes look kind of sort of like Barbie goes Goth, though. You've still got the fair skinned blond thing going on. Just with a bad dye job. Now if they just had realistic proportions.

I'm talking of ages ago though !!

And yes proportion are absolutely unreal , I guess they are guilty for lots of teens going to anorexia or having serious problems of self esteem just for not being so barbie looking . Luckily I found books far more interesting than b. before they could do "too" serious damages to my mind

 

[Marquis]

You can get the African American barbies here, and sometimes brunettes.

What makes you think they're American?

Are the Japanese Barbies Japanese American?

 

[Killishandra]

Now if they just had realistic proportions.

"Not only would she be 7'2" tall, but she'd boast an impressive 40" bust line, a tiny 22" waist, and 36" hips. In addition to these absurd, and physiologically impossible statistics, her neck would be twice the length of a normal human being."


http://schools.tdsb.on.ca/jarvisci/jargonline/myth.html

 

[TaintedB]

What makes you think they're American?

Are the Japanese Barbies Japanese American?

Everything and everybody's American, Marquis. Don't you know anything? ;-)

This thread has reminded me of a fractured fairytale I once wrote. It's full of in-jokes and references to people I knew once upon a time back in the day, and rather over the top in some other ways, but I think it's still about 50% comprehensible. And kinda sick, too. This story crept out of my keyboard one day in the misty past when somebody gave me a writing assignment. The assignment was not to write a fairytale, per se, but that's what plopped out. Afterwards, of course, I took apart my keyboard and cleaned it thoroughly. :/


GnomeSuckah
by me


“One misty moisty morning
When cloudy was the weather
I met a withered old man
A clothed all in leather
He was clothed all in leather
With a cap beneath his chin
Singing Howdy do and howdy do
And Howdy do again”

And how I wish I had not politely said “howdy-do” back to the ugly little fuck! If I hadn’t been polite, I wouldn’t this very moment be tied to my spinning wheel, my bare ass on this cold straw-strewn rock floor, my metaphorical ass total grass when that greedy SOB of a king discovered I could no longer spin him his god-damned gold. I also wouldn’t have this crazed little man (yep the same one, what’s with his tacky leather look anyway?) dancing and crowing all around my helpless body in its disheveled attire (he’d loosened the laces of my bodice, the creep, and of course my two overweight udders had fallen right out into my lap), taunting me with

“Guess my name, sweetie!
Guess my name, heehee!
Or I gets anything I wants from you!
Your tits, your ass, your pee!”

Now what would he want with my pee? I briefly wondered, then disciplined myself to try to guess his name.

“Uh, is it JJ?” “NO!” he snarled in contempt, his spit hitting my face. “He’s my arch enemy: the ultimate GOOD GUY! Fuck, if you’re powerful, it’s obscene not to use it! I’ll bring that girlieman, that macho queenie boaster low if it’s the last thing I do! HA!” Oh well, so much for my extracurricular reading.

“Two more guesses Honeybitchiepie, then you’re ALL MINE!” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Why didn’t he just do his dirty little thing and get it over with instead of playing this silly riddles game with me? Since I’d had the ill fortune to run into this creep several hours ago, I think I’d guessed several thousand names, not a single one of which was close--according to him! And each time I misguessed, he was right there, spitting his evil glee into my face! I had been getting pretty tired of wiping gnome spit off, but now, being tied to my spinning wheel and NOT being able to wipe it was perhaps a bit worse. “C’mon!” He yelled impatiently in that high-pitched little voice of his that at the start of all this made me giggle uncontrollably. “Guess two more! HURRY!” Yes, Oh Gnome My Lord and Master. Anything Your Highness Says. Sheesh! At least I was nearly at the end of all this foolishness.

“Hmm…. You wouldn’t happen to be Woody Allen, would you?” “AiEEEEEE!” he screamed! “How DARE you compare me to that pervert!” The wizened little gnome then jumped onto my lap (oof!) with a manly creak of his leathers and began slapping my face with his tiny hand back and forth, back and forth, shrieking, “You’re making FUN of me! I just KNOW IT!” Despite the fact that this stung like hell, I couldn’t suppress a giggle, which just enraged the little fellow further. He slapped even harder and, to my horror and disgust, I felt his tiny dick getting hard where it rubbed against my belly. “Ok! OK!” I called. “Safe Word!” God damn, why could I never remember my safeword! I was given one a long time ago, and naturally the first thing I did was to forget it. If only I could think of what it was…” But I couldn’t remember it and so the nasty little creature continued to slap me until my face began to puff up and turn color. “There!” he said many long minutes later. “That’ll teach you to make fun of this serious endeavor! It’ll also teach you not to forget your safe word again!” Oh man, this little dude was tough! “Now: one final time! What. Is. My. Name?”

“Oh fuck! I just remembered my safeword***!” I said. “But I can’t for the life of me think of what your name might be, so I’m just going to pull one… out of a hat. Ok. Ok. Let’s see. How about… (I briefly considered “Richard Nixon” then, luckily, remembered the state of my face) Buster Nutley, Esq.? “A fine, fine name indeed!” chortled my tormentor back to me. BUT IT ISN’T MINE! HA! HAHA! AND SO NOW YOU ARE MINE! YAAAAAHHH!!” The maniacally happy gnome sped up his dancing and began throwing his little leather cap into the air and catching it under his chin. I watched this display in amazement and disgust.

*** RL NOTESKI: A long time ago I was indeed given a safeword, which I promptly forgot. It was just a joke anyway and wouldn’t have worked (Wha? you think I’d ever in a million years have anything to do with someone who used safe words? Eww!!! How grodily consensual! I’d rather suck a gnome!) , but it frustrated me that the person who gave it to me in the first place didn’t tell me, until many years later, what it was: and it was, of course…Rumplestilskin.

Suddenly he froze in mid-jig. “Uh-oh!” I thought, when he stops moving is the only time he thinks. This can only mean trouble. “Hey baby! This was WAY too easy! How’d you like another riddley? Huh? You’d get another chance to be free—think about it! I’d even throw in four more days of gold spinning, just for fun.” The offer was awfully tempting. I mean, what was worse: languishing in the king’s torture dungeons presided over by that tall dark sexy <-Inquisitor-> fellow whose very glance made me shudder with dripping masochistic lust or lying tied to my spinning wheel in this tower room enduring the incredibly boring repartee of an ugly little old fart who thought he was the funniest thing since sliced tofu? Oh hell, with the way things were going, there was going to plenty of time for me in the dungeons with M. <-Inquisitor-> hunk. Let’s let this pathetic little pipsqueak have his fun. “OK, I’ll take your offer of a second riddle. But only one guess this time, OK?” “Certainly, my little fuckdoll,” he cackled gleefully. (Fuckdoll!?! Where the HELL did he learn that disgusting term? You’d almost believe he’d been surfing the Internet.) “You wouldn’t guess it even with a thousand chances,” he added loftily. “It’s way beyond your intellectual level!” GRRRRR. If I weren’t tied so firmly, I’d smother HIS intellectual level between my two mutant pumpkins! “Here’s the last riddle!” he chortled. “Last. Get it? Hehe! You WILL get it!”

“I am the question that cannot be answered
I am the lover that cannot be lost
Yet small are the gifts of my servant the soldier
For time is my offspring, pray what is my name?”

Oh Sweet Jesus, how easy could it get? The answer was death, of course! I thought he was going to spring a hard one on me! Geez! Any moron could have guessed that one! I was about to blurt out the obvious answer when something made me pause. In front of my eyes I saw the huge dark lump in the King’s Inquisitor’s black pants getting smaller and smaller, softer and softer. Oh no! What a dilemma! If I guess wrong and let this disgusting little creepo have his way with me, it won’t be long before Mr. Sex-on-Broken-Wheels escorts me to his dark and scary home. If, on the other hand, I do what I’m itching to do and really, truly, crush this little gnome prick’s hopes by guessing correctly, my hopes of being arrested and locked away down there with Mr. Badbar disappear in thin air and I’ll have to spin even more of this #$%& straw into gold! ARGH!

I thought for ten seconds longer and then made up my mind. "Um…could the answer be Richard Nixon?” “HEE HEE HEE!!!” The wizened little creature laughed so hard and jumped so high that his head hit the ceiling. “Ouch! I mean, you’re mine, baby, you’re all mine!” “Well, get on with it would you?” I said, sighing. “I have a date in the dungeons later tonight, and I want to look my best.” “HAHA! FUNNY JOKE!,” he responded instantly. “Here’s what I want from you, my little piece of whorl meat…”

As the gnome spoke his foul plans for me, he zippily climbed up my body until the sharp heels of his little leather boots were digging sharply into the tops of my tender melons. (Yes, he was THAT small!) Unzipping the front of his smelly little leather pants he pulled out the tiniest dick I’d ever seen. Even the ones on the chimps were bigger…er, but that’s another story. “SUCK IT, FUCKCUNT!” he shrieked in what I wager he thought was a Controlling Dominant Voice. I leaned my head forward as far as my bonds would let me and managed to get my lips around its tip. “Uh, could you move a little forward, please?” The gnome happily complied, thrusting his crotch lustily toward my face as if he were an Italian Master. Oh god, if only it weren’t green and (ulp!) spotted. I shut my eyes in an attempt to hold down my gorge and sucked his whole teeny business deep into my mouth with one loud slurp. Then I began to do those things for which I was known far and wide in all the kingdom for by everyone except the idiot Capitalist King, who only thought of his gold. “Oh yeah, babeeee! So, so GOOD!” squeaked the little guy in appreciation. “Suck it in darling! Swallow my dirty shaft! CHOKE on it!” Hmm, that’ll be the day, I thought.

I should never think. Gnomes, as you must know, are magical little creatures. I knew this, but I would have never guessed that he had _this_ particular power! As I continued to suck him off, applying all my special tricks and graces, I noticed my jaw was beginning to ache. WTF? He’s the width of a string bean, at most, so where is this pain coming from? I took him out for a moment to ease my oral agony, and with shock noticed that his teeny greenie peenie had sprouted like a beanstock and was now at least the size of, well, at least as big as the <-Inquisitor->’s! Ack! How could this be?

To cover my surprise, I started to lick and suck on his green, hairy furballs, which tasted quite unfortunately like sweaty slimemolds, amazed at the huge pole about to coldcock me on the forehead. This was not good. Would it grow anymore? And how much bigger would it get, anyway? I prided myself in being able to deepthroat any man in the kingdom, but by George, I’d never met one that expanded quite the way his had. “Back on my cock, slut!” Mr. Bigshot demanded impatiently! “Lick the tip, now!” I did so, my eyes half open so I could observe the results of my attentions without appearing too curious. It was still growing! And growing! “Now bitch! Take it all in, at once! I’ve heard what you can do with that talented mouth and throat of yours! Swallow me, babee!” I took a deep breath then opened wide for the largest challenge of my relatively short life.

By now he was built like a horse, but slowly, and with frequent stops to prevent myself from gagging too badly I managed, just barely, to get the whole thing down my throat. There it remained, and so did I, so fully stuffed and stretched that I couldn’t move my tongue or even my lips. “C’mon, tootsie! Daddy’s getting imPAtient!” Oh lord, how was I going to finish him off? I tried moving my head a little: forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards and his enormous dick moved a little with it. But he soon grew impatient. “Is THAT all you can do? You pathetic Hoo-man bitch! A full-blooded gnome woman could do better at puberty than you’re doing right now! Worthless, totally worthless!” And with that last utterance he impatiently grabbed the back of my head and began face fucking me. I moved with him, and tried, every so often, to suck in a tiny bit of breath. It hurt! Damn did it hurt! And I kept feeling like I was going to black out from lack of air. I moaned on his cock to indicate my distress, and that excited the little fucker even more! He began moving faster and I realized then that the more I moaned and screamed, the quicker I could make him cum. So I moaned and groaned and screamed against this enormous ugly prick whilst all the while he crooned things like, “Oh yeah baby! Daddy’s too big for you? Daddy hurting you? Awww, poor wittle girlie!”

I really wanted to kill him at that moment, but I had to stay alive in order to do so, so I groaned and screamed even louder (a relative term in this case: his cock was stuffing my pie so well that very little sound escaped; but still, the “louder” I screamed, the harder the vibration on his dick). Finally, with a high-pitched little “Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!” he came at last in my esophagus. It felt like a gallon of thick spongy putrified paint going down. I'll wager a million golds that it was _green_ paint! Then something strange happened. My eyes were opened and I saw vast universes spinning in their skies and the universes spinning my blood and the secrets of all things were made clear and all doors were unlocked and I was limitless and soaring ever higher toward an infinite…

Luckily, the transcendental after effects of his spooge lasted only a few seconds and very shortly I was back in my tower room, tied to the spinning wheel, slightly hungover and feeling a formerly monstrous cock rapidly shrink in my mouth to the size of a string bean. With a neat little “thwack!” he pulled himself out of my mouth and tucked it back prissily in the crotch of leathers. “Ooo baby! You were the best! The VERY best earth girl I’ve ever had! I’ll never forget you!” he said airily. Yeah right! Well just don’t forget to untie me, you little twerp. “Hey, you know, I just had a great idea! I return to the Crab Nebular tomorrow, and when I get home my buddies aren’t going to believe a word of this story. I think I’ll dump you in the cargo hold of my ship and show them the living proof, HAHA!” But: you have one tiny chance to save yourself from this glorious fate. Answer me this:

“What is better than roses on a piano?”

“Huh! You get one guess now! Answer quickly or it’s off to the Crab we go! And I’ll make you show all my buddies the very same thing you showed me today! HA! I’ll be the most popular gnome in the Galactic Grog-n-Slog!” Oh, fuck! Just what I needed: to become the barroom cocksucking slave to a bunch of obnoxious and boring teenie beanies at the sordider end of the universe! I just had to answer this one right! As my mind desperately raced over the possible answers to this question, and discarded them, one by one, I heard a discreet cough in the doorway of the tower room. Oh god, don’t tell me it was the king coming early for his gold! That was JUST what I needed. I couldn’t turn my head quite far enough to see who was standing there, but I knew as soon as I heard the icy-cold but deeply masculine tone recite:

“Tulips on an organ, obviously. Especially when they’re screaming in agony. Now begone you foul excretion from the pussy side of a crab’s anus! I’ll have no more interference with my client!” Oh god! Oh god! I was thinking, overjoyed as the little gnome jumped up and down and screamed in rage, “Cheater! Cheater! I’ll get you for this Inquie! Just see if I don’t!” His face beet red with rage, smoke starting to pour from the top of his leather cap, the gnome jumped up one more time, and when he came down, he sunk into the floor, leaving only a foul-smelling green oozing puddle behind him. “How are you, darlink?” asked that marvelous German accent. “Did your throat survive the little fellow’s attentions intact? If not, I’ll have one of our skilled medics attend to it.” That wonderous deep sexy voice was now behind me, and I found my arms skillfully and quickly untied from the spinning wheel. “It’s fine, Sir, thank you.” “Good. Ve like our clients completely intact when they come into our care.” I shuddered in excitement and fear, as his strong arms lifted me and his dark boots walked with slow measured clicks down the tower stairs and down even more stairs into the dungeons, where I lived happily ever after for let’s see… what was it? Oh yeah! I managed to last six whole weeks!

The End

 

[TaintedB]

"Not only would she be 7'2" tall, but she'd boast an impressive 40" bust line, a tiny 22" waist, and 36" hips. In addition to these absurd, and physiologically impossible statistics, her neck would be twice the length of a normal human being."

I know some guys on yahoo who'd be all over that shit. Congrats on the AV, by the way. It looks mahvalous on you.

 

[Killishandra]

I know some guys on yahoo who'd be all over that shit. Congrats on the AV, by the way. It looks mahvalous on you.

Thanks, and I enjoyed your twisted fairy tale. How long ago did you write that? (just curious)

 

[snowy ciara]

What makes you think they're American?

Are the Japanese Barbies Japanese American?

In a word, Marketing Marquis. For many years, you couldn't get the Japanese Barbie here. She was sold in Japan, to that specific Market, and had to be special ordered to get her here. I don't know if the African American one, which is the the designation the company still uses. It appears that the Japanese one has morphed in Asian, if you read the short article on the time line, and she is now available here. For many years, though, she wasn't. But I distinctly remember a soccer mom when I was about 14 despairing of finding an Asian Soccer Barbie for her younger kid. They had a limited edition soccer Barbie then, around 2000 ish. She could special order a Japanese one from Mattel in Japan, but she was the standard fashion model, not the soccer model.

If it's the term "African American" that you disagree with, then my apologies. However, the designation was stolen from the article in question as well and I chose to use the same terminology. It appears from my quick poking around of the Mattel website as well as the Barbie one, that it is still used, when used at all. You have to search under ethnic to get any response at all. I have done a Google search for the article (It was in the NYT I believe, or one of the Eastern US big city papers, around 2001) but I haven't found it yet. It was for a research paper that I wrote that was inspired by the incident. I also threw away all my Barbies as a result of that. I admit that the gesture was more symbolic than anything, as I had a whole 2 I think. No offense was meant by the phrase I used; I simply used the same phraseology, as I felt it a bigger disservice to change it. Besides, people are people to me, and I'm afraid I don't know what the current PC term is.

Tainted B, I am not an American, and I don't assume everyone is.

Incidentally, I did find one article from about the way the dolls are made and I neglected to book mark it so I'll have to go back and find it later. But for the most part, when an ethnic fashion doll is made, the practice is generally to mold a new face showing the ethnic cast needed for the type, and then the doll is either dipped (standard pink plastic and then dipped in a layer of the color needed or a layer of paint) or if the pigment is changed, the same molds are used as the original model. So it appears the dimensions are still pretty off somehow.

edited to add

I had moved the timeline in the link above to 1968 and clicked on the article for Christie, and then c and p'd the url, which appears to not have worked as the link takes you to the beginning. Please click 2 or 3 clicks over to 1968 and click on the Christie article and you'll see the article I was referring to.

Again, no offense was intended by the original posting.

 

[Marquis]

Good answer.

I wasn't offended, just curious. PC terms crack me up sometimes. I think it's come to a point where it's ok to say black.

What about Carribean-Americans, like my family. Our routes are from Africa too, but we havent been slaves for centuries. What about people who recently immigrated from Africa? Are they African African-Americans?

It's all bollocks.