Favourite Fairy Tales - Modernized and Eroticized

[deliciously_naughty]

good. me too

Just need to write my analytical critique of nine to five(it's actually a very politically charged movie so stop giggling), and a book review first.

 

[Floorman]

Jack might go up the beanstock and find something other than a flesh eating giant. Or maybe the giant's wife could be VERY hospitable...course, she's a giant...but then, a Giant can just be someone a little taller than the norm. I dunno, I just like fairy tales. Princess and the Pea could get nasty, or what about the frog prince?

Chicklet

Sorry to be going back so far, but I've only just joined!
A thought about the Giantess:- Surely she could take *all* of his body *all* the way up her! This could then lead on to what he does up there!

 

[sirhugs]

good. me too

Just need to write my analytical critique of nine to five(it's actually a very politically charged movie so stop giggling), and a book review first.

not even a snicker. I agree that, as bad as it was as a movie, it is an intetresting social anthropological footnote. What's the book?

 

[deliciously_naughty]

not even a snicker. I agree that, as bad as it was as a movie, it is an intetresting social anthropological footnote. What's the book?

It's called Dear Sisters and it's a collections of documents from the early years of the 70's feminist movement. Interesting stuff...my paper is an analysis of stereotypes. Which ones were allowed to stand, which ones were challenged. Then onto my next erotic story

 

[sirhugs]

gotta jump off topic long enough to say I love your Margaret Cho quote.

Where's the parade for fans of smutty fairy tales? Now there, maybe even I could get luckky!

 

[Guest]

Not only the fairy tales, of course!

Why specially the fairy tales? There are many classics literature writings, which can be rewritten by the new way (more erotically and etc.). Let's take an example from the famous Dumas’s novel "Monte Christo". In this novel the great writer tells us a story about pirate with the name Cucumeto - how he kidnaps and rapes the fiancée of the one of the members of the gang (the young woman is virgin, by the way). Isn't it a marvelous idea for an erotic story?

 

[Tatewaki]

Re: Not only the fairy tales, of course!

Indeed! Why not start a thread about that? I'd like this one to stay on-topic.

-T

Why specially the fairy tales? There are many classics literature writings, which can be rewritten by the new way (more erotically and etc.). Let's take an example from the famous Dumas’s novel "Monte Christo". In this novel the great writer tells us a story about pirate with the name Cucumeto - how he kidnaps and rapes the fiancée of the one of the members of the gang (the young woman is virgin, by the way). Isn't it a marvelous idea for an erotic story?

 

[Tatewaki]

Sorry to be going back so far, but I've only just joined!
A thought about the Giantess:- Surely she could take *all* of his body *all* the way up her! This could then lead on to what he does up there!

Now THAT is an interesting visual ... Kind of like "Jack the Human Gerbil," or something.

Brings a whole new meaning to the term Muff Diving.

-T

 

[deliciously_naughty]

For those of you who write extreme...Puss in boots could go all sorts of nasty ways that I can only concieve of at 2am

 

[Firegirl]

I have a couple of fairy tales that someone might want to re-do. How about The Wild Swans. A story about a princess and her elven brothers. The king marries an evil woman who turns the boys into swans. The princess has to knit shirts out of thorns for them all in order to change them back, and she is not allowed to talk until it is completed or they are forever stuck as swans. There are a lot of details I am forgetting but I think that there is a lot of possibility. Or if you have a very good imagination try The Emperors New Clothes.

 

[NASCARaddicted]

A story about a princess and her elven brothers.

I guess you mean eleven ? I don't know the story, but a girl with 11 brothers ... that makes me think ...

Or if you have a very good imagination try The Emperors New Clothes.

Well, this story contains nudity ... do you really think this could be erotic ?

As far as I can remember, the emperor was an old, fat guy ... so maybe it shouldn't be an emperor - maybe it is an empress. Or maybe the emperor is a good looking guy ... (but personally, I would use the empress).
The basic plot is already done ... in the end of the fairytale, the empress is nude amongst many dressed people. But of course, this would just be the beginning of the Lit story ....

Also: maybe the empress is not totally nude. Maybe she wears lingerie ...

 

[sirhugs]

I
As far as I can remember, the emperor was an old, fat guy ... so maybe it shouldn't be an emperor - .

are you saying old fat guys aren't sexy????

( I REALLY need to get back to the gym)

 

[Tatewaki]

I have a couple of fairy tales that someone might want to re-do. How about The Wild Swans. A story about a princess and her elven brothers. The king marries an evil woman who turns the boys into swans. The princess has to knit shirts out of thorns for them all in order to change them back, and she is not allowed to talk until it is completed or they are forever stuck as swans. There are a lot of details I am forgetting but I think that there is a lot of possibility. Or if you have a very good imagination try The Emperors New Clothes.

Hello Firegirl, and welcome to Lit!

You've made two excellent suggestions. The Wild Swans isn't a very popular tale at all, but it is a good one. I include it below for those who are interested. Unfortunately, the source text I had didn't have paragraphs. If anyone finds that bothersome I'd recommend skipping over the rest of this post. It's a LONG one!

Worth the read though. Lots of erotic possibilities.

Regards,

-T
---

1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

THE WILD SWANS

Hans Christian Andersen
Andersen, Hans Christian (1805-1875) - A Danish writer who is
remembered as one of the world’s greatest story-tellers. Although
most of his poems, novels, and dramas have been forgotten, his
Fairy Tales, (compiled 1835- 1872), have gained him lasting fame.
The Wild Swans - One of Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales. A
wicked queen turns eleven princes into swans. The princess, too
pure to be affected by witchcraft, learns of her brothers’ fate and
sets out to save them.

THE WILD SWANS

FAR away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter,
dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter, named Eliza.
The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a
star on his breast, and a sword by his side. They wrote with
diamond pencils on gold slates, and learnt their lessons so quickly
and read so easily that every one might know they were princes.
Their sister Eliza sat on a little stool of plate-glass, and had a book
full of pictures, which had cost as much as half a kingdom. Oh,
these children were indeed happy, but it was not to remain so
always. Their father, who was king of the country, married a very
wicked queen, who did not love the poor children at all. They
knew this from the very first day after the wedding. In the palace
there were great festivities, and the children played at receiving
company; but instead of having, as usual, all the cakes and apples
that were left, she gave them some sand in a teacup, and told them
to pretend it was cake. The week after, she sent little Eliza into the
country to a peasant and his wife, and then she told the king so
many untrue things about the young princes, that he gave himself
no more trouble respecting them.
“Go out into the world and get your own living,” said the queen.
“Fly like great birds, who have no voice.” But she could not make
them ugly as she wished, for they were turned into eleven
beautiful wild swans. Then, with a strange cry, they flew through
the windows of the palace, over the park, to the forest beyond. It
was early morning when they passed the peasant’s cottage, where
their sister Eliza lay asleep in her room. They hovered over the
roof, twisted their long necks and flapped their wings, but no one
heard them or saw them, so they were at last obliged to fly away,
high up in the clouds; and over the wide world they flew till they
came to a thick, dark wood, which stretched far away to the
seashore. Poor little Eliza was alone in her room playing with a
green leaf, for she had no other playthings, and she pierced a hole
through the leaf, and looked through it at the sun, and it was as if
she saw her brothers’ clear eyes, and when the warm sun shone on
her cheeks, she thought of all the kisses they had given her. One
day passed just like another; sometimes the winds rustled through
the leaves of the rose-bush, and would whisper to the roses, “Who
can be more beautiful than you!” But the roses would shake their
heads, and say, “Eliza is.” And when the old woman sat at the
cottage door on Sunday, and read her hymn-book, the wind would
flutter the leaves, and say to the book, “Who can be more pious
than you?” and then the hymn-book would answer “Eliza.” And
the roses and the hymn-book told the real truth. At fifteen she
returned home, but when the queen saw how beautiful she was,
she became full of spite and hatred towards her. Willingly would
she have turned her into a swan, like her brothers, but she did not
dare to do so yet, because the king wished to see his daughter.
Early one morning the queen went into the bath-room; it was built
of marble, and had soft cushions, trimmed with the most beautiful
tapestry. She took three toads with her, and kissed them, and said
to one, “When Eliza comes to the bath, seat yourself upon her head,
that she may become as stupid as you are.” Then she said to
another,“Place yourself on her forehead, that she may become as
ugly as you are, and that her father may not know her.” “Rest on
her heart,” she whispered to the third, “then she will have evil
inclinations, and suffer in consequence.” So she put the toads into
the clear water, and they turned green immediately. She next
called Eliza, and helped her to undress and get into the bath. As
Eliza dipped her head under the water, one of the toads sat on her
hair, a second on her forehead, and a third on her breast, but she
did not seem to notice them, and when she rose out of the water,
there were three red poppies floating upon it. Had not the
creatures been venomous or been kissed by the witch, they would
have been changed into red roses. At all events they became
flowers, because they had rested on Eliza’s head, and on her heart.
She was too good and too innocent for witchcraft to have any
power over her. When the wicked queen saw this, she rubbed her
face with walnut-juice, so that she was quite brown; then she
tangled her beautiful hair and smeared it with disgusting
ointment, till it was quite impossible to recognize the beautiful
Eliza.
When her father saw her, he was much shocked, and declared she
was not his daughter. No one but the watch-dog and the swallows
knew her; and they were only poor animals, and could say
nothing. Then poor Eliza wept, and thought of her eleven brothers,
who were all away. Sorrowfully, she stole away from the palace,
and walked, the whole day, over fields and moors, till she came to
the great forest. She knew not in what direction to go; but she was
so unhappy, and longed so for her brothers, who had been, like
herself, driven out into the world, that she was determined to seek
them. She had been but a short time in the wood when night came
on, and she quite lost the path; so she laid herself down on the soft
moss, offered up her evening prayer, and leaned her head against
the stump of a tree. All nature was still, and the soft, mild air
fanned her forehead. The light of hundreds of glow-worms shone
amidst the grass and the moss, like green fire; and if she touched a
twig with her hand, ever so lightly, the brilliant insects fell down
around her, like shooting-stars.
All night long she dreamt of her brothers. She and they were
children again, playing together. She saw them writing with their
diamond pencils on golden slates, while she looked at the beautiful
picture-book which had cost half a kingdom. They were not
writing lines and letters, as they used to do; but descriptions of the
noble deeds they had performed, and of all they had discovered
and seen.
In the picture-book, too, everything was living. The birds sang, and
the people came out of the book, and spoke to Eliza and her
brothers; but, as the leaves turned over, they darted back again to
their places, that all might be in order.
When she awoke, the sun was high in the heavens; yet she could
not see him, for the lofty trees spread their branches thickly over
her head; but his beams were glancing through the leaves here and
there, like a golden mist. There was a sweet fragrance from the
fresh green verdure, and the birds almost perched upon her
shoulders. She heard water rippling from a number of springs, all
flowing in a lake with golden sands. Bushes grew thickly round
the lake, and at one spot an opening had been made by a deer,
through which Eliza went down to the water.
The lake was so clear that, had not the wind rustled the branches of
the trees and the bushes, so that they moved, they would have
appeared as if painted in the depths of the lake; for every leaf was
reflected in the water, whether it stood in the shade or the
sunshine. As soon as Eliza saw her own face, she was quite
terrified at finding it so brown and ugly; but when she wetted her
little hand, and rubbed her eyes and forehead, the white skin
gleamed forth once more; and, after she had undressed, and
dipped herself in the fresh water, a more beautiful king’s daughter
could not be found in the wide world. As soon as she had dressed
herself again, and braided her long hair, she went to the bubbling
spring, and drank some water out of the hollow of her hand. Then
she wandered far into the forest, not knowing whither she went.
She thought of her brothers, and felt sure that God would not
forsake her. It is God who makes the wild apples grow in the
wood, to satisfy the hungry, and He now led her to one of these
trees, which was so loaded with fruit, that the boughs bent beneath
the weight. Here she held her noonday repast, placed props under
the boughs, and then went into the gloomiest depths of the forest.
It was so still that she could hear the sound of her own footsteps, as
well as the rustling of every withered leaf which she crushed under
her feet. Not a bird was to be seen, not a sunbeam could penetrate
through the large, dark boughs of the trees. Their lofty trunks
stood so close together, that, when she looked before her, it seemed
as if she were enclosed within trellis-work. Such solitude she had
never known before. The night was very dark. Not a single glowworm
glittered in the moss.
Sorrowfully she laid herself down to sleep; and, after a while, it
seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted over her head,
and that the mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from
heaven. When she awoke in the morning, she knew not whether
she had dreamt this, or if it had really been so. Then she continued
her wandering; but she had not gone many steps forward, when
she met an old woman with berries in her basket, and she gave her
a few to eat. Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven
princes riding through the forest.
“No,” replied the old woman, “But I saw yesterday eleven swans,
with gold crowns on their heads, swimming on the river close by.”
Then she led Eliza a little distance farther to a sloping bank, and at
the foot of it wound a little river. The trees on its banks stretched
their long leafy branches across the water towards each other, and
where the growth prevented them from meeting naturally, the
roots had torn themselves away from the ground, so that the
branches might mingle their foliage as they hung over the water.
Eliza bade the old woman farewell, and walked by the flowing
river, till she reached the shore of the open sea. And there, before
the young maiden’s eyes, lay the glorious ocean, but not a sail
appeared on its surface, not even a boat could be seen. How was
she to go farther? She noticed how the countless pebbles on the seashore
had been smoothed and rounded by the action of the water.
Glass, iron, stones, everything that lay there mingled together, had
taken its shape from the same power, and felt as smooth, or even
smoother than her own delicate hand. “The water rolls on without
weariness,” she said, till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I
be unwearied in my task. Thanks for your lessons, bright rolling
waves; my heart tells me you will lead me to my dear brothers.”
On the foam-covered sea-weeds, lay eleven white swan feathers,
which she gathered up and placed together. Drops of water lay
upon them; whether they were dew-drops or tears no one could
say. Lonely as it was on the sea-shore, she did not observe it, for
the ever-moving sea showed more changes in a few hours than the
most varying lake could produce during a whole year. If a black
heavy cloud arose, it was as if the sea said, “I can look dark and
angry too;” and then the wind blew, and the waves turned to white
foam as they rolled. When the wind slept, and the clouds glowed
with the red sunlight, then the sea looked like a rose leaf. But
however quietly its white glassy surface rested, there was still a
motion on the shore, as its waves rose and fell like the breast of a
sleeping child. When the sun was about to set, Eliza saw eleven
white swans with golden crowns on their heads, flying towards the
land, one behind the other, like a long white ribbon. Then Eliza
went down the slope from the shore, and hid herself behind the
bushes. The swans alighted quite close to her and flapped their
great white wings. As soon as the sun had disappeared under the
water, the feathers of the swans fell off, and eleven beautiful
princes, Eliza’s brothers, stood near her. She uttered a loud cry, for,
although they were very much changed, she knew them
immediately. She sprang into their arms, and called them each by
name. Then, how happy the princes were at meeting their little
sister again, for they recognized her, although she had grown so
tall and beautiful. They laughed, and they wept, and very soon
understood how wickedly their mother had acted to them all. “We
brothers,” said the eldest, “fly about as wild swans, so long as the
sun is in the sky; but as soon as it sinks behind the hills, we recover
our human shape. Therefore must we always be near a resting
place for our feet before sunset; for if we should be flying towards
the clouds at the time we recovered our natural shape as men, we
should sink deep into the sea. We do not dwell here, but in a land
just as fair, that lies beyond the ocean, which we have to cross for a
long distance; there is no island in our passage upon which we
could pass, the night; nothing but a little rock rising out of the sea,
upon which we can scarcely stand with safety, even closely
crowded together. If the sea is rough, the foam dashes over us, yet
we thank God even for this rock; we have passed whole nights
upon it, or we should never have reached our beloved fatherland,
for our flight across the sea occupies two of the longest days in the
year. We have permission to visit out home once in every year, and
to remain eleven days, during which we fly across the forest to
look once more at the palace where our father dwells, and where
we were born, and at the church, where our mother lies buried.
Here it seems as if the very trees and bushes were related to us.
The wild horses leap over the plains as we have seen them in our
childhood. The charcoal burners sing the old songs, to which we
have danced as children. This is our fatherland, to which we are
drawn by loving ties; and here we have found you, our dear little
sister., Two days longer we can remain here, and then must we fly
away to a beautiful land which is not our home; and how can we
take you with us? We have neither ship nor boat.”
“How can I break this spell?” said their sister. And then she talked
about it nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a few hours.
Eliza was awakened by the rustling of the swans’ wings as they
soared above. Her brothers were again changed to swans, and they
flew in circles wider and wider, till they were far away; but one of
them, the youngest swan, remained behind, and laid his head in
his sister’s lap, while she stroked his wings; and they remained
together the whole day. Towards evening, the rest came back, and
as the sun went down they resumed their natural forms. “Tomorrow,”
said one, “we shall fly away, not to return again till a
whole year has passed. But we cannot leave you here. Have you
courage to go with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you
through the wood; and will not all our wings be strong enough to
fly with you over the sea?” “Yes, take me with you,” said Eliza.
Then they spent the whole night in weaving a net with the pliant
willow and rushes. It was very large and strong. Eliza laid herself
down on the net, and when the sun rose, and her brothers again
became wild swans, they took up the net with their beaks, and flew
up to the clouds with their dear sister, who still slept. The
sunbeams fell on her face, therefore one of the swans soared over
her head, so that his broad wings might shade her. They were far
from the land when Eliza woke. She thought she must still be
dreaming, it seemed so strange to her to feel herself being carried
so high in the air over the sea. By her side lay a branch full of
beautiful ripe berries, and a bundle of sweet roots; the youngest of
her brothers had gathered them for her, and placed them by her
side. She smiled her thanks to him; she knew it was the same who
had hovered over her to shade her with his wings. They were now
so high, that a large ship beneath them looked like a white sea-gull
skimming the waves. A great cloud floating behind them appeared
like a vast mountain, and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and
those of the eleven swans, looking gigantic in size. Altogether it
formed a more beautiful picture than she had ever seen; but as the
sun rose higher, and the clouds were left behind, the shadowy
picture vanished away.
Onward the whole day they flew through the air like a winged
arrow, yet more slowly than usual, for they had their sister to
carry. The weather seemed inclined to be stormy, and Eliza
watched the sinking sun with great anxiety, for the little rock in the
ocean was not yet in sight. It appeared to her as if the swans were
making great efforts with their wings. Alas! she was the cause of
their not advancing more quickly. When the sun set, they would
change to men, fall into the sea and be drowned. Then she offered
a prayer from her inmost heart, but still no appearance of the rock.
Dark clouds came nearer, the gusts of wind told of a coming storm,
while from a thick, heavy mass of clouds the lightning burst forth
flash after flash. The sun had reached the edge of the sea, when the
swans darted down so swiftly, that Eliza’s head trembled; she
believed they were falling, but they again soared onward.
Presently she caught sight of the rock just below them, and by this
time the sun was half hidden by the waves. The rock did not
appear larger than a seal’s head thrust out of the water. They sunk
so rapidly, that at the moment their feet touched the rock, it shone
only like a star, and at last disappeared like the last spark in a piece
of burnt paper. Then she saw her brothers standing closely round
her with their arms linked together. There was but just room
enough for them, and not the smallest space to spare. The sea
dashed against the rock, and covered them with spray. The
heavens were lighted up with continual flashes, and peal after peal
of thunder rolled. But the sister and brothers sat holding each
other’s hands, and singing hymns, from which they gained hope
and courage. In the early dawn the air became calm and still, and
at sunrise the swans flew away from the rock with Eliza. The sea
was still rough, and from their high position in the air, the white
foam on the dark green waves looked like millions of swans
swimming on the water. As the sun rose higher, Eliza saw before
her, floating on the air, a range of mountains, with shining masses
of ice on their summits.
In the centre, rose a castle apparently a mile long, with rows of
columns, rising one above another, while, around it, palm-trees
waved and flowers bloomed as large as mill wheels. She asked if
this was the land to which they were hastening.
The swans shook their heads, for what she beheld were the
beautiful ever-changing cloud palaces of the “Fata Morgana,” into
which no mortal can enter. Eliza was still gazing at the scene, when
mountains, forests, and castles melted away, and twenty stately
churches rose in their stead, with high towers and pointed gothic
windows. Eliza even fancied she could hear the tones of the organ,
but it was the music of the murmuring sea which she heard. As
they drew nearer to the churches, they also changed into a fleet of
ships, which seemed to be sailing beneath her; but as she looked
again, she found it was only a sea mist gliding over the ocean. So
there continued to pass before her eyes a constant change of scene,
till at last she saw the real land to which they were bound, with its
blue mountains, its cedar forests, and its cities and palaces. Long
before the sun went down, she sat on a rock, in front of a large
cave, on the floor of which the over-grown yet delicate green
creeping plants looked like an embroidered carpet. “Now we shall
expect to hear what you dream of to-night,” said the youngest
brother, as he showed his sister her bedroom.
“Heaven grant that I may dream how to save you,” she replied.
And this thought took such hold upon her mind that she prayed
earnestly to God for help, and even in her sleep she continued to
pray. Then it appeared to her as if she were flying high in the air,
towards the cloudy palace of the “Fata Morgana,” and a fairy came
out to meet her, radiant and beautiful in appearance, and yet very
much like the old woman who had given her berries in the wood,
and who had told her of the swans with golden crowns on their
heads. “Your brothers can be released,” said she, “if you have only
courage and perseverance. True, water is softer than your own
delicate hands, and yet it polishes stones into shapes; it feels no
pain as your fingers would feel, it has no soul, and cannot suffer
such agony and torment as you will have to endure. Do you see the
stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Quantities of the same
sort grow round the cave in which you sleep, but none will be of
any use to you unless they grow upon the graves in a churchyard.
These you must gather even while they burn blisters on your
hands.
Break them to pieces with your hands and feet, and they will
become flax, from which you must spin and weave eleven coats
with long sleeves; if these are then thrown over the eleven swans,
the spell will be broken. But remember, that from the moment you
commence your task until it is finished, even should it occupy
years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will
pierce through the hearts of your brothers like a deadly dagger.
Their lives hang upon your tongue. Remember all I have told you.”
And as she finished speaking, she touched her hand lightly with
the nettle, and a pain, as of burning fire, awoke Eliza.
It was broad daylight, and close by where she had been sleeping
lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell on her
knees and offered her thanks to God. Then she went forth from the
cave to begin her work with her delicate hands. She groped in
amongst the ugly nettles, which burnt great blisters on her hands
and arms, but she determined to bear it gladly if she could only
release her dear brothers. So she bruised the nettles with her bare
feet and spun the flax.
At sunset her brothers returned and were very much frightened
when they found her dumb. They believed it to be some new
sorcery of their wicked step-mother.
But when they saw her hands they understood what she was doing
on their behalf, and the youngest brother wept, and where his tears
fell the pain ceased, and the burning blisters vanished. She kept to
her work all night, for she could not rest till she had released her
dear brothers. During the whole of the following day, while her
brothers were absent, she sat in solitude, but never before had the
time flown so quickly. One coat was already finished and she had
begun the second, when she heard the huntsman’s horn, and was
struck with fear. The sound came nearer and nearer, she heard the
dogs barking, and fled with terror into the cave.
She hastily bound together the nettles she had gathered into a
bundle and sat upon them. Immediately a great dog came
bounding towards her out of the ravine, and then another and
another; they barked loudly, ran back, and then came again. In a
very few minutes all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and the
handsomest of them was the king of the country. He advanced
towards her, for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden.
“How did you come here, my sweet child?” he asked. But Eliza
shook her head. She dared not speak, at the cost of her brothers’
lives. And she hid her hands under her apron, so that the king
might not see how she must be suffering.
“Come with me,” he said; “here you cannot remain. If you are as
good as you are beautiful, I will dress you in silk and velvet, I will
place a golden crown upon your head, and you shall dwell, and
rule, and make your home in my richest castle.” And then he lifted
her on his horse. She wept and wrung her hands, but the king said,
“I wish only for your happiness. A time will come when you will
thank me for this.” And then he galloped away over the
mountains, holding her before him on this horse, and the hunters
followed behind them. As the sun went down, they approached a
fair royal city, with churches, and cupolas. On arriving at the castle
the king led her into marble halls, where large fountains played,
and where the walls and the ceilings were covered with rich
paintings. But she had no eyes for all these glorious sights, she
could only mourn and weep. Patiently she allowed the women to
array her in royal robes, to weave pearls in her hair, and draw soft
gloves over her blistered fingers. As she stood before them in all
her rich dress, she looked so dazzingly beautiful that the court
bowed low in her presence. Then the king declared his intention of
making her his bride, but the archbishop shook his head, and
whispered that the fair young maiden was only a witch who had
blinded the king’s eyes and bewitched his heart. But the king
would not listen to this; he ordered the music to sound, the
daintiest dishes to be served, and the loveliest maidens to dance.
After-wards he led her through fragrant gardens and lofty halls,
but not a smile appeared on her lips or sparkled in her eyes. She
looked the very picture of grief. Then the king opened the door of a
little chamber in which she. was to sleep; it was adorned with rich
green tapestry, and resembled the cave in which he had found her.
On the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had spun from the
nettles, and under the ceiling hung the coat she had made. These
things had been brought away from the cave as curiosities by one
of the huntsmen.
“Here you can dream yourself back again in the old home in the
cave,” said the king; “here is the work with which you employed
yourself. It will amuse you now in the midst of all this splendor to
think of that time.” When Eliza saw all these things which lay so
near her heart, a smile played around her mouth, and the crimson
blood rushed to her cheeks. She thought of her brothers, and their
release made her so joyful that she kissed the king’s hand.
Then he pressed her to his heart. Very soon the joyous church bells
announced the marriage feast, and that the beautiful dumb girl out
of the wood was to be made the queen of the country. Then the
archbishop whispered wicked words in the king’s ear, but they did
not sink into his heart. The marriage was still to take place, and the
archbishop himself had to place the crown on the bride’s head; in
his wicked spite, he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly on her
forehead that it caused her pain. But a heavier weight encircled her
heart- sorrow for her brothers.
She felt not bodily pain. Her mouth was closed; a single word
would cost the lives of her brothers. But she loved the kind,
handsome king, who did everything to make her happy more and
more each day; she loved him with all her heart, and her eyes
beamed with the love she dared not speak. Oh! if she had only
been able to confide in him and tell him of her grief. But dumb she
must remain till her task was finished. Therefore at night she crept
away into her little chamber, which had been decked out to look
like the cave, and quickly wove one coat after another.
But when she began the seventh she found she had no more flax.
She knew that the nettles she wanted to use grew in the
churchyard, and that she must pluck them herself. How should she
get out there? “Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment
which my heart endures?” said she. “I must venture, I shall not be
denied help from heaven.” Then with a trembling heart, as if she
were about to perform a wicked deed, she crept into the garden in
the broad moonlight, and passed through the narrow walks and
the deserted streets, till she reached the churchyard. Then she saw
on one of the broad tombstones a group of ghouls.
These hideous creatures took off their rags, as if they intended to
bathe, and then clawing open the fresh graves with their long,
skinny fingers, pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh! Eliza
had to pass close by them, and they fixed their wicked glances
upon her, but she prayed silently, gathered the burning nettles,
and carried them home with her to the castle. One person only had
seen her, and that was the archbishop- he was awake while
everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was evidently
correct. All was not right with the queen. She was a witch, and had
bewitched the king and all the people. Secretly he told the king
what he had seen and what he feared, and as the hard words came
from his tongue, the carved images of the saints shook their heads
as if they would say. “It is not so. Eliza is innocent.” But the
archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they
witnessed against her, and were shaking their heads at her
wickedness. Two large tears rolled down the king’s cheeks, and he
went home with doubt in his heart, and at night he pretended to
sleep, but there came no real sleep to his eyes, for he saw Eliza get
up every night and disappear in her own chamber. From day to
day his brow became darker, and Eliza saw it and did not
understand the reason, but it alarmed her and made her heart
tremble for her brothers. Her hot tears glittered like pearls on the
regal velvet and diamonds, while all who saw her were wishing
they could be queens. In the mean time she had almost finished her
task; only one coat of mail was wanting, but she had no flax left,
and not a single nettle. Once more only, and for the last time, must
she venture to the churchyard and pluck a few handfuls. She
thought with terror of the solitary walk, and of the horrible ghouls,
but her will was firm, as well as her trust in Providence. Eliza
went, and the king and the archbishop followed her. They saw her
vanish through the wicket gate into the churchyard, and when they
came nearer they saw the ghouls sitting on the tombstone, as Eliza
had seen them, and the king turned away his head, for he thought
she was with them- she whose head had rested on his breast that
very evening. “The people must condemn her,” said he, and she
was very quickly condemned by every one to suffer death by fire.
Away from the gorgeous regal halls was she led to a dark, dreary
cell, where the wind whistled through the iron bars.
Instead of the velvet and silk dresses, they gave her the coats of
mail which she had woven to cover her, and the bundle of nettles
for a pillow; but nothing they could give her would have pleased
her more. She continued her task with joy, and prayed for help,
while the street-boys sang jeering songs about her, and not a soul
comforted her with a kind word. Towards evening, she heard at
the grating the flutter of a swan’s wing, it was her youngest
brother- he had found his sister, and she sobbed for joy, although
she knew that very likely this would be the last night she would
have to live. But still she could hope, for her task was almost
finished, and her brothers were come. Then the archbishop arrived,
to be with her during her last hours, as he had promised the king.
But she shook her head, and begged him, by looks and gestures,
not to stay; for in this night she knew she must finish her task,
otherwise all her pain and tears and sleepless nights would have
been suffered in vain. The archbishop withdrew, uttering bitter
words against her; but poor Eliza knew that she was innocent, and
diligently continued her work.
The little mice ran about the floor, they dragged the nettles to her
feet, to help as well as they could; and the thrush sat outside the
grating of the window, and sang to her the whole night long, as
sweetly as possible, to keep up her spirits.
It was still twilight, and at least an hour before sunrise, when the
eleven brothers stood at the castle gate, and demanded to be
brought before the king. They were told it could not be, it was yet
almost night, and as the king slept they dared not disturb him.
They threatened, they entreated. Then the guard appeared, and
even the king himself, inquiring what all the noise meant. At this
moment the sun rose. The eleven brothers were seen no more, but
eleven wild swans flew away over the castle.
And now all the people came streaming forth from the gates of the
city, to see the witch burnt. An old horse drew the cart on which
she sat. They had dressed her in a garment of coarse sackcloth. Her
lovely hair hung loose on her shoulders, her cheeks were deadly
pale, her lips moved silently, while her fingers still worked at the
green flax. Even on the way to death, she would not give up her
task. The ten coats of mail lay at her feet, she was working hard at
the eleventh, while the mob jeered her and said, “See the witch,
how she mutters! She has no hymn-book in her hand. She sits there
with her ugly sorcery. Let us tear it in a thousand pieces.” And
then they pressed towards her, and would have destroyed the
coats of mail, but at the same moment eleven wild swans flew over
her, and alighted on the cart. Then they flapped their large wings,
and the crowd drew on one side in alarm.
“It is a sign from heaven that she is innocent,” whispered many of
them; but they ventured not to say it aloud.
As the executioner seized her by the hand, to lift her out of the cart,
she hastily threw the eleven coats of mail over the swans, and they
immediately became eleven handsome princes; but the youngest
had a swan’s wing, instead of an arm; for she had not been able to
finish the last sleeve of the coat.
“Now I may speak,” she exclaimed. “I am innocent.” Then the
people, who saw what happened, bowed to her, as before a saint;
but she sank lifeless in her brothers’ arms, overcome with
suspense, anguish, and pain.
“Yes, she is innocent,” said the eldest brother; and then he related
all that had taken place; and while he spoke there rose in the air a
fragrance as from millions of roses. Every piece of faggot in the pile
had taken root, and threw out branches, and appeared a thick
hedge, large and high, covered with roses; while above all
bloomed a white and shining flower, that glittered like a star. This
flower the king plucked, and placed in Eliza’s bosom, when she
awoke from her swoon, with peace and happiness in her heart.
And all the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds came in
great troops. And a marriage procession returned to the castle,
such as no king had ever before seen.

THE END

 

[sirhugs]

emperor's new clothes variation

how about rather than focus on the emperor as the sex figure, its a public orgy? That is, as an ironic comment on modern fashion trend following, the crowd sees that " new clothes= nude", so they all strip down. You then fiocus on a single individual, who liberates a few public sex fantasies....

 

[deliciously_naughty]

Re: emperor's new clothes variation

how about rather than focus on the emperor as the sex figure, its a public orgy? That is, as an ironic comment on modern fashion trend following, the crowd sees that " new clothes= nude", so they all strip down. You then fiocus on a single individual, who liberates a few public sex fantasies....

Everyone wants to be like J-lo/Madonna/etc? could work...

What motivates them to move from nudity to orgy?

 

[Firegirl]

The Emperor/Empress could have hired the "crooks" who sewed his/her new clothes to make him/her irresistable and walk through the crowd inticing a sexual riot. Or simply tempting them to join him/her in nudity. A city full of suddenly naked people something is bound to happen.

 

[deliciously_naughty]

The Emperor/Empress could have hired the "crooks" who sewed his/her new clothes to make him/her irresistable and walk through the crowd inticing a sexual riot. Or simply tempting them to join him/her in nudity. A city full of suddenly naked people something is bound to happen.

you have a point...and perhaps instead of a little boy yelling "the emperor's naked" you could have a gorgeous guard yell something else.

 

[jerryl50]

A New Take on "Adam and Eve"

For a splendid retelling of the Eve story, I recommend "All About Eve" by Julian Rathbone. I found it in The Mammoth Book of Historical Erotica, edited by Maxim Jakubowski, Carroll & Graff Publishers, Inc. New York, New York; 1998. The ISBN is 0786705868 <for you net using bookbuyers >

It's a good book in any event, but Rathbone's story is one of my favorites.

the bookworm

 

[deliciously_naughty]

Hey Hugs, finally got started on my redo of Snow White. I'm calling it "For the Love of Snow"

 

[deliciously_naughty]

Talk about procrastinating...I was allowed to have 30 minutes to work on my story tonight and 2 hours later I submitted it. Sigh. No self control whatsoever.

Hugs...look for "For the love of snow white" in a few days...I'll link it in my sig line when it's up

 

[deliciously_naughty]

Bump and repost of original thread concept

Favourite Fairy Tales - Modernized and Eroticized
I've read a couple of threads recently about rewriting Cinderella. That got me to thinking about other Fairy Tales. I think that they could be a goldmine of story ideas, especially for erotic short fiction.

So, on that note, what are your favourite Fairy Tales, and why? How would you like to see them spiced up? And would you like to see them modernized, or not? Often the "Once upon a time" thing is half the charm, but the stories themselves are timeless and could be set anywhere, and in any period.

What say you?

-T

 

[jerryl50]

Favorite Fairy Tales. . .Hmmm. Bedtime Stories For Grownups.

Well, we're certainly onto something here. After reading all the posts to this thread, I've decided to take the old pen in hand, and go to work. It's a great idea, obviously, and again I'm annoyed with myself for not thinking of it sooner.

But to answer the question--what are some favorite stories suitable for perhaps erotic retellings; I submit as follows:

Peter Pan-- well just look at the boy's NAME after all. And what were he and Tiger Lilly up to before Wendy's arrival. Not to mention all those mermaids and the Lost Boys. I think I'll do some work on this one myself. Tinkerbell offers some interesting possiblities as well.

Beauty and the Beast--What if Beauty and Beast were of the same gender???

The Princess and the Pea--all those mattresses.

Old MacDonald Had a Farm--but just what was he growing? With a **** here, and a **** there. Here a ****, there a ****. . .

Okay, that ugly blank page is staring me in the face. Thanks for the ideas. Hopefully, something will pan out.

Thanks,

bookworm

 

[Guest]

Re: Favorite Fairy Tales. . .Hmmm. Bedtime Stories For Grownups.

Beauty and the Beast--What if Beauty and Beast were of the same gender???

Damn, that is a kick-ass idea!

-T

 

[Tatewaki]

Re: Re: Favorite Fairy Tales. . .Hmmm. Bedtime Stories For Grownups.

Damn, that is a kick-ass idea!

-T

That was me.

(Freaking cookies ...)

-T

 

[NASCARaddicted]

when it comes to the Beauty and the Beast, I think on the Disney Version ....

maybe the beast has a beautiful big dick (hence the name: the Beauty and the Beast). The beast catches Belle and imprisons her in the castle. At first, Belle doesn't like the beast - and of course the beast notices that. But then, she spies on him and sees him in the shower .... and she sees his big dick. Now she tries to seduces him. But the beast is suspicious - is this a trap ? Or did she really changed her mind and started to like him ?