by RJ Silver
The Princess & the Penis
RJ Silver
Published: 2010
Tag(s): castle comedy fiction funny humor knight medieval novella penis prince princess "rj silver" "short story" wizard
Chapter 1
A Lump In The Rump
A long time ago in a small kingdom far, far away, there lived a beautiful young princess named Amalia. She was so beautiful, flowers leaned toward her when she walked past. Birds and butterflies fluttered around her to get a closer look. Even women who might normally turn green with envy, turned pink with admiration instead.
She was not only beautiful but kind. In the small village outside her family’s castle, she served hot meals to the hungry, handed out blankets to the cold, and gave hope to the despondent. The people called her an angel.
Amalia’s father, King Norwood, was so proud and protective of his daughter, he sought to do what no father had ever successfully done: to protect her from Cupid’s poisonous arrows. He surrounded her with three chaste companions and a special troop of guards sworn to defend her virtue at all costs. He forbade all single males over the age of twelve from approaching her. He blocked all love songs from reaching her ears, all romantic stories from passing before her eyes, and even made it a crime to discuss such matters with her.
In short, he wanted to keep her as pure as fresh snow, as innocent as a fawn, until her beauty, kindness, and purity attracted a worthy husband – preferably a crown prince from one of the big kingdoms. He hoped such a union would not only make her happy, but would also help his small, impoverished kingdom of Westwich survive.
By the time Amalia turned eighteen, the king’s plan seemed to have worked. Eleven princes had asked for her hand in marriage on reputation alone. The king had rejected all but one: Prince Rupert from the mighty kingdom of Arginy, who was now on his way to meet her. Everything was going perfectly – Amalia’s gilded cage had not a single scratch – until one morning she arrived for breakfast in the Great Hall, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Why so tired?” asked Queen Isabella, Amalia’s ageless and graceful mother. “Did you not sleep well, my dear?”
“It’s my bed,” Amalia answered drowsily. “There was a lump under my rump all night long.”
“A lump?” said the king, who couldn’t bear to see his daughter suffer the slightest discomfort. “That’s unacceptable. I’ll have the steward replace your mattress right away.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Amalia as she gently massaged her behind.
* * *
The next morning, Amalia entered the Great Hall with the same look of sleepy discomfort on her face.
“What’s wrong, my child?” asked the queen.
“It was the lump again, Mother,” answered the princess. “It seemed to poke and prod me from dusk till dawn.”
“That’s strange,” said the king. “I thought the steward replaced your mattress.”
“He did, Father.”
“Hmmm…perhaps it’s the frame. I’ll have him replace that, too. You must look rested when Prince Rupert arrives.”
Amalia felt something tug her insides. She was quite nervous about the prince’s arrival, now only one week away. To start with, she had two conflicting views of men, both formed at a distance. The noblemen visiting the castle always seemed so shiny and brash, she wondered why any of them needed trumpeters. She’d concluded that to converse with them, one merely needed to nod and smile. On the other hand, the men in the village seemed more full of ale than themselves, mumbled a great deal when they spoke, and sometimes fell asleep sitting up. To communicate with them, their wives often stood quite close, yelling as loud as possible and even poking them in the chest. Now Prince Rupert was a famous nobleman, so she suspected he required a lot of nodding and smiling, but she’d also observed noblewomen behaving like village wives on occasion, and she didn’t understand when to make the switch.
She also wasn’t sure what to do with a man aside from conversing. She’d mostly observed noblemen at tournaments, where they jousted all day, then drank and caroused all night. But as she didn’t joust, drink, or carouse, she couldn’t see much of a role for herself there.
Then there was that disgusting thing she’d witnessed at two separate feasts, when a man and woman pressed their mouths together and appeared to chew the same food. She’d never observed married couples doing anything similar, so she didn’t think she’d have to do that with Prince Rupert, but she wasn’t certain.
It was all so confusing, she wanted very much to talk to her mother and aunts about it. That wasn’t permitted, however. Besides, at the moment, she was far too distracted by the current pain in her butt to discuss her future husband.
* * *
At the following breakfast, the princess complained of the same uncomfortable lump.
“I thought the steward replaced your entire bed,” said the king, exasperated.
“He did,” said the queen, appearing concerned. “Perhaps the lump’s not in the bed.”
It took a few seconds for this to register with the king. When it did, he jumped to his feet. “Guards!” he bellowed, his voice booming from within his dark beard like thunder from the clouds. “Fetch my physician!”
Shortly after, the king’s personal physician arrived: a short, elderly man with stooped shoulders and enormous spectacles. The physician, the queen, and Amalia retired to a private chamber. The king paced nervously outside the door. After a few minutes, everyone emerged smiling and relieved. “All’s well, sire,” said the physician. “The princess’s behind is as round and soft as a lamb’s.”
“Thank goodness!” said the king. “So what’s causing her discomfort?”
“I don’t know, sire. Perhaps it’s the way she’s sleeping.”
Overhearing this, Amalia said, “No problem, Father. I’ll try to sleep differently tonight.”
Chapter 2
The Mystery Unfolds
The next morning, the princess’s rear end was as sore as ever, though this time it was only one cheek, since she’d slept on her side.
“Impossible!” said the king, completely baffled. “She has a new mattress, a new frame, and her bottom is as round and soft as a lamb’s. Where’s the lump coming from?”
“There’s something else,” said the princess. “It’s no longer just a lump. Last night, I felt it to see what it might be, and it began to grow. In fact, the more I felt it, the more it grew, until it assumed a most peculiar shape.”
“What kind of shape?” asked the queen, now more concerned than ever.
The princess looked around and picked up one of the large candles from the breakfast table. “Well, it was long and hard like this, except much thicker. And it was bigger at the top, like a mushroom. And here, at the bottom, it had two large apples, one on either side.”
The queen dropped her fork onto her plate. The king nearly choked on his buttered scone. As soon as he recovered, he stood and yelled, “Guards, fetch your captain!”
A few minutes later, the captain of the guards arrived. The king pulled him aside to explain what had happened, his face red with rage. “In her own bed! When I get hold of this villain, I’m going to flay him alive. I’m going cut off his private parts and hang them on a pole for all to see. Then I’m going to take them down and stuff them in his—”
“I understand, sire,” said the captain. “I just can’t figure out how he got into her room. I have two guards posted outside her door day and night, and two more beneath her window. No one could get past them.”
“Perhaps it’s one of them,” said the king. “Have you noticed anything peculiar about their loins? Puffy pantaloons, large lumps in their tights – that sort of thing?”<
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“Forgive me, sire. I don’t understand.”
The king described the culprit’s extraordinary dimensions.
“Oh, I see. Well, to be honest, that’s not something I inspect. Besides, the princess’s companions sleep in her room with her. If a man had entered there, wouldn’t they have told us?”
“Perhaps they don’t know. Perhaps he’s using some sort of secret passageway. That’s why I want you to fetch the steward and meet me there.”
The king returned to the queen and princess. “Amalia, I want you to visit your aunts for a few hours. Please do not discuss this matter with them. Isabella, I’d like you to join me in Amalia’s bedchamber to question her companions.”
“Question my companions?” said Amalia. “Why? What shape is this to cause such consternation?”
“Never mind, child,” said the king. “We’ll explain later. In the meantime, please do as you’re told.”
* * *
The king surveyed his daughter’s bedchamber, especially her companions’ beds, which had been placed protectively around her own. “Hmmm,” he said, “he must have crawled in beneath the beds.”
The captain and steward moved all the beds aside and closely examined the floor.
“It’s solid stone, my lord,” said the steward.
“Then he must be coming in elsewhere,” growled the king. “Empty the room and check every crack, crevice, and hole you see!”
Calling in the guards for help, the two men did as instructed, yet still failed to find a secret passage.
Meanwhile, the queen had completed her questioning of the princess’s three companions. “They’ve seen nothing,” she said. “They swear they’ve been with her all three nights and that no man has entered the room.”
“Have they had any large…visitors…poking around their beds?”
“No, my lord, but I’m not sure they’re as chaste as you believe. They seem quite familiar with the…object…in question, though they’ve never heard of one so enormous. Frankly, neither have I. It seems almost mythical.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I only meant it was…unusual…by ordinary standards. Not that you’re in any way ordinary, my lord. Things can be mythical in many different ways. After all, heroes are known for their deeds, not their size. Why, just the other day—“
“Enough! Let’s focus on the problem at hand, shall we? How the devil is this villain getting past four guards and three companions to assail our daughter? More importantly, how can we stop him?”
* * *
While the investigation continued in Amalia’s bedchamber, she arrived at the joint chambers of her Aunts Ingrid and Leila, the king’s two older sisters.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Aunt Ingrid said the moment she answered the door. Tall and thin, she had the demeanor of a devoted headmistress.
“It’s nothing,” said Amalia. “I’m not permitted to discuss it.”
“Not permitted by whom?” said Aunt Leila as she joined them. Shorter and rounder than her older sister, she was more like a loving nursemaid.
“By Father – who else?”
“Nonsense,” said Aunt Ingrid. “We often ignore what our brother says. We used to torment him for hours when he was a boy. Why do you think he has such a bad temper? Now come tell us what’s wrong and we’ll see if we can help.”
Amalia smiled. Even though her aunts were older and had been widowed for many years, they always seemed so modern. She especially admired their independence.
The three women sat on the big velvet sofa in the main room.
“It all started with a lump in my rump,” the princess began. She summarized events to that point.
“Oh my,” said Aunt Leila at the description of the mysterious shape. “Are you all right, dear? Did it hurt you?”
“It was inside the mattress. How could it hurt me?”
“Oh, they have their ways,” said Aunt Ingrid. “Believe me, they have their ways.”
“Who’s they?” asked Amalia.
“You said it was big,” said Aunt Leila. “Exactly how big?”
“Well,” answered the princess, “I could easily place both hands on it, one above the other, with plenty of room above and below.”
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Ingrid. “How thick was it?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. I think my fingers could reach only half way around it.”
“Good Lord!” said Aunt Leila. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a giant clump of feathers?”
“I don’t think so,” said Amalia, “because it grew when I touched it. In fact, the more I touched it, the bigger and harder it got.”
“They do tend to do that,” said Aunt Ingrid.
“What tends to do that?” asked Amalia.
“Are you sure you weren’t just having a dream?” asked Aunt Leila. “You know, the same way you might dream of a snow cone on a hot summer day?”
“I don’t think so. Why? Does this have to do with food?”
“Not if you’re quick,” said Aunt Ingrid. “Now tell us, dear. You can trust your old aunts. You’re not involved with some dashing young knight or brawny young stable boy, are you?”
“Of course not!” said Amalia. “Why? Does this have to do with boys?”
Her two aunts glanced at each other.
“You said you’d tell me.”
Aunt Ingrid offered her an apologetic smile. “Believe me when we say we want to, dear. We feel you’ve been kept in the dark about this subject far too long, especially now that you’re engaged. We’ve lobbied your father many times to let us discuss it with you, but this is one line he’s warned us not to cross. He’s even threatened to lop off our heads if we do. However, given what’s happened, we’ll petition him again right away.”
Amalia wanted to press for more. She hated being kept in the dark, as if she were still a child. But she didn’t want her aunts to lose their heads, either.
“In the meantime,” said Aunt Leila, “Prince Rupert will be here in five days. Are you excited to finally meet him?”
Amalia shrugged. “I suppose, though, to be honest, I hate the idea of leaving all of you and only visiting once every few years. I hate leaving the village’s sick and the poor, too. Who will take care of them? I’m also a little nervous. What should I say to the prince when I meet him? How should I behave? What sort of things will we do together?”
“That’s part of what we want to discuss with you,” replied Aunt Ingrid. “As for what to say or how to behave, just be yourself, dear. Love will take care of the rest.”
“Yes, but…what if I don’t fall in love with him? What if I don’t even like him?”
“Oh, that’s perfectly normal,” said Aunt Leila. “I didn’t like my husband at first. He had terrible gas and burped and snored all night long like a wild boar.”
“And mine was covered in such coarse hair all over his body,” said Aunt Ingrid, “at night I sometimes mistook him for the dog.”
“That sounds dreadful,” said Amalia.
“Oh, it was,” said Aunt Leila. “And we haven’t even told you the worst of it. But after a while, they grow on you.”
“Like a wart,” chuckled Aunt Ingrid.
“A wart you become so accustomed to,” said Aunt Leila wistfully, “you miss it when it’s gone.”
* * *
“Absolutely not!” roared the king. “Why do you think Prince Rupert chose her to begin with? In addition to her beauty, he believes her to be as pure as a mountain stream.”
“We know, brother,” said Aunt Ingrid. “But that was before a giant penis appeared in her bed. She should at least know what it is.”
“I agree,” said the queen.
“Me, too,” said Aunt Leila.
“It didn’t simply appear in her bed,” replied the king. “Some villain has crawled beneath her mattress and offended her from there. But I already have a solution. We’ll put her in the tower.”
“The tower?” said
the queen. “She’s done nothing wrong!”
“It’s to protect her, not punish her. There’s no way this scoundrel can get in there. And don’t worry, we’ll make it comfortable. In the meantime, I’ll have my soldiers check every loin in the surrounding towns and villages. As soon as we’ve caught the culprit, we’ll quietly put this matter behind us.”
Chapter 3
The Phantom Phallus
Early the next morning, the captain of the guard unlocked the prison tower’s only door to reveal, to her parents’ immense relief, the peaceful, well-rested, and happy face of the young princess.
“See?” said the king. “What did I tell you? She’s been left undisturbed for the night and had a wonderful sleep.”
“Actually,” said the princess, “the reason I had a wonderful sleep is I found a good way to deal with this…this thing that keeps appearing in my mattress. Instead of sleeping on my back or side, where it sticks into me, I simply rolled over and put it between my legs, where it fit perfectly and felt quite nice.”
The queen almost fainted and was saved only by the sturdy arm of the captain. The king turned ghostly white.
“What’s the matter?” asked the princess. “Don’t you see? Whatever this thing is, it needn’t be a pain in my rear when it can instead be a pleasure on my front.”
The shocked silence persisted. The queen was the first to rally and immediately pulled her husband aside. “I hope you’re happy. The ignorance you’ve insisted on is now undoing the very innocence you’re trying to protect. This is a fine pickle you’ve got us into.”
“That’s not the pickle I’m worried about,” said the king.
“You have to let me tell her so she can defend herself.”
“It’s an omen,” the king muttered. “An evil omen of some kind.”
“The omen here is that your daughter is putting a giant, erect penis between her legs and says it feels good. Now are you going to let me talk to her about this or not?”