Fractured Fairy Tales

by Catherine Stovall

  I slowly stepped through the doorway and gasped. Blood was everywhere; streaked over the walls, puddled on the floor, and splattered on the ceiling. Something else caught my attention, as well. Footprints smeared the blood, not just normal footprints, huge paw prints as if from a giant dog.

  I swallowed hard, unable to believe any of this was happening. Then I noticed a pair of bloody feet around the corner.

  I crept forward and peered around the wall. Larrick was kneeling over my grandmother’s body. Her face had been completely ripped off, and her hands looked as if they had been chewed. Larrick glanced up at me with wide eyes, blood staining the corners of his mouth. The breath rushed out of me as my legs became weak and unsteady. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to say.

  “Red,” he whispered hoarsely.

  I turned and raced out of the house. Run, run, run, the voice in my head chanted as I made it into the trees.

  “Red,” Larrick yelled from my grandmother’s door, “wait!”

  He killed her. He freaking killed her. I didn’t know what to think. Part of me was happy the bitch was dead, but the sight of Larrick and blood had frightened the hell out of me. I’d never seen a dead person before, especially one missing their entire face.

  I pushed my legs faster through the Dark Forest, desperate to make it back to the town. Not that the town was any better, but at least I’d be able to hide away in my condemned hotel until the men of the village realized I had returned. The thought of that caused me to slow down. Either way I was fucked.

  Suddenly, a huge wolf jumped out of the trees, growling and snarling. I lost my balance and fell backward, hitting the back of my head on a tree.

  The pain was excruciating, but I tried to focus on the black beast in front of me as my vision went in and out.

  The wolf yowled in pain as its skin and fur ripped. The sound was sickening, adding nausea to my growing list of problems.

  As the beast reared up on its hind legs, everything went black.

    

  “Red, can you hear me,” Larrick urgently whispered.

  I slowly opened my eyes. Larrick was right there in front of me, his greenish-yellow eyes consumed by pain and sadness. “Larrick,” I responded in a hoarse voice. “What are you?”

  “I’m so sorry you had to find out that way.” He slipped his arm under my head. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was frightened I would scare you away.”

  “You’re the wolf,” I gasped, not knowing what to think.

  Larrick’s lips tightened. “Yes, I’m the wolf your town fears. I’m sure you’ve heard many stories about me.”

  “I’ve actually never paid attention to any of them,” I whispered as I gazed into his eyes.

  “You’re not frightened?”

  “Not unless there’s something I should be frightened about?” I smiled softly, seemingly more drawn to him than before.

  “No, there’s no need to be frightened of me.” He leaned down and placed his lips to mine. He broke away from the kiss, his eyes drowning in desire. “I told you that you belong to me. So, you’re safe.”

  “Larrick,” I exhaled his name. “Kiss me again.”

  He pushed his lips to mine as a low groan escaped from deep inside of him.

  The sound took me over the edge, giving me a high I’d never experienced before. My hand drifted downward, and I realized he was completely naked. Butterflies flapped against my insides as I wrapped my fingers around his hard, pulsating muscle. I slid my hand up and down over his warm cock, and a tingling sensation snaked its way down into my valley.

  Unable to resist him anymore, I rolled over on top of him, shedding my cape and my shirt. His lips were instantly connected to my breasts as if they were magic, and his tongue rolling over my hard nipples.

  Larrick leaned back, placing his hands on my hips as I lifted in the air. He caught the edges of my skirt and guided me back down, his warmness slipping deep inside me.

  I tilted my head back, savoring the rush of emotions exploding through me, as we both moved in a slow, steady rhythm.

  Suddenly sitting up, he pressed his chest against my breasts and held me tightly as I continued to thrust my hips against him. His muscle seemed to be expanding inside me, stretching out the walls of my valley.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back my screams of need and desire, as he pushed me down harder and harder. I cried out as everything inside me came together, bringing me closer and closer to my limit.

  When I opened my eyes, Larrick was watching me. The beast he tried so hard to push down was trying to come back out. The war going on inside him was obvious as he concentrated on me.

  Knowing the wolf lingered inside of him didn’t scare me, it turned me on even more. I met him thrust for thrust, and together, we both cried out as he pushed me down one last time and held me there, his warm muscle more alive than ever.

  When I collapsed on top of him, Larrick pushed the strands of hair out of my face as I lay on his chest. “Stay out in the forest with me,” he whispered. “I can take care of you, keep you safe.”

  “Where will we live, Larrick?”

  “At my house.” He chuckled softly. “It’s not much, but I can make it better for you. I can even expand it if you want me to.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I don’t want you to go back to the village. You don’t belong there. You belong with me.”

  He was right. I didn’t belong in the village. “I just need to go back and get a few things.” I slowly shifted off of him, my eyes drifting over his marvelous body as I grabbed my shirt and cape and put them on.

  Larrick smiled. “I’ll go get dressed and tidy up my house some.” He placed his hand on the side of my face. “What do you say we meet outside the village in about an hour? Will that give you enough time to get what you need?”

  “More than enough.” I leaned forward, placing my lips on his. “I’ll see you then.” With those words, I jumped up from the forest floor and raced away from Larrick and toward the village. I had to hurry, because I wanted to get back to him as fast as I could.

    

  When I entered the village, I was unable to hide the smile on my face. As the women began to surround me, I completely ignored them, making my way to the inn.

  I was almost there when one of the women shouted, “The whore bears the mark of the beast!”

  I spun around, having no idea what she was talking about. Everyone turned their attention to me, their eyes focusing on my neck.

  My hood. In all my excitement, I totally forgot Larrick had bit me earlier. I struggled to pull up my hood, but it was too late. They had all seen me.

  Two of the townsmen seemed to appear out of nowhere, grabbing my arms and dragging me toward the center of town.

  “No,” I screamed. “Let me go!”

  Suddenly, the entire town had ended up in the same area, encircling us.

  “Burn the whore,” they all chanted, pumping their fists in the air. “She’ll draw the wolf to our town! Kill her now!”

  These people are nuts, I thought as my breathing intensified. They couldn’t possibly be serious. However, as some of the people stacked piles of wood inches from me, I knew they were serious. I struggled to fight my way out of their grasps, but it was useless.

  Hot tears rained from my eyes as one of the men threw a match into the pile of wood, igniting it. Fear and terror erupted inside me. “Larrick!” I screamed my lover’s name, even though I knew he was too far away to hear me.

  Two more men moved toward us, carrying a pole. “Tie her to this so she doesn’t escape.”

  The men holding me pushed me over to the pole. I kicked and screamed, trying frantically to escape the grasps of the crazy town, but instead, they forced me to the ground. As they placed me over the pole and looped the string over me once, a loud growl emerged from the trees.

  The entire town turned toward the forest as a huge, snarling
wolf jumped out, gaze directed at me.

  I took a deep breath, and exhaled his name. “Larrick.”

  The townspeople backed up, some of them turning and running toward the buildings—but they didn’t have a chance. Larrick was faster than anything I’d ever encountered, as if he was equipped with the super power of speed.

  As he raced through the crowd, he snapped every person’s neck with the power of his massive jaws. Ten men dropped within minutes. Larrick felt no mercy for anyone in the town, including the women, which were his easiest targets.

  I slipped the rope off of me and quickly stood up, wondering how well Larrick could control the beast. Do I look like all the other townspeople to the wolf, or will he recognize me?

  My question was answered as Larrick turned his head, greenish-yellow eyes peering in my direction. He trotted up and nuzzled me with his large nose, pushing me toward the forest. I turned and started for the trees, but something caught my eye.

  As Larrick continued to take the town down one by one, one man stalked him, a knife in his hand. Not sure whether a blade could actually hurt Larrick, I couldn’t chance it.

  I raced toward the guy, but as I closed in on him, he spun around to me.

  “Devil child,” he screamed and lunged.

  Larrick swung his huge tail around, knocking my attacker off balance. The guy crashed to the ground on his back, the knife slipping from his hand.

  I grabbed the knife and peered into the man’s eyes. I had no mercy for him. “You say I’m the devil, but you’re the one going to hell. And you deserve everything that’s coming for you.” I lifted the knife in the air, and dropped my arms, ramming the knife into his chest.

  I released the handle of the knife and sat there, staring as blood bubbled up from his mouth. Then I gazed around the town, taking in the dead bodies littered everywhere. I felt nothing for these people. Nothing at all.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, causing me to spin around in defense.

  “Red,” Larrick exhaled my name.

  I swallowed hard as the blood dripped from the edges of his lips, and then I stood up, flinging myself into his arms. “Larrick!” I stood on my tippy toes and crushed my lips into his. I’d never been happier to see him.

  Larrick broke off the kiss and looked me up and down. “We should go get you cleaned up. You’re all bloody, Red.”

  Bloody Red. For some reason, I liked the sound of that.

  “Yes, Larrick. Let’s go home.” I smiled.

  Larrick smiled back, his eyes swimming in happiness as he took my hand and led me into the forest, into my new life.

  The King’s Wizard – Sword in the Stone

  Lillian MacKenzie Rhine

  *This Story is an excerpt from the full length novel, The King’s Wizard, is written in UK English, and contains adult content. Ages 18+ suggested*

  Chapter One

  Outside was beautiful. Warm and delicious. Arthur loved this time of year when things were in bloom and the world was multiplying before his eyes. The floral aromas of day. The sticky, wet nights under molasses surrounded moons. Yes, spring was definitely, hands down, the best time of year. He so longed to be outside. To walk the gardens. Maybe a dip in the luxurious pond that bordered the castle and the booming village. The village was amazing in spring. Full of life. Blacksmiths working their wares outside. Bakers switching from the sustaining fare of baked breads to succulent fruit pies and sugar-laden pastries. Even the butcher would be taking in the herd for the influx of banquets and balls that the great season brought.

  Sure, the castle life was great as well. Servants and any and everything he could wish for. But living the life of a king had its own problems. Of course. Certain things were expected of him. A standard to uphold. Arthur had to admit to himself near daily that he had come into his position of power under what would deem a whim. Frankly, he was lucky. The previous ruler had yet to bear an heir thus making the kingdom vulnerable and up for grabs after his death. To alleviate any confusion and to give any man in the kingdom a chance at keeping the ruling party “in house” so to speak, the magnificent sword, and what some would say slightly magical, Excalibur, was inserted into an enchanted stone.

  It was not Arthur’s plan to go up to bat. He didn’t want to take a stab at the competition. He ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Next thing he knew, his small, juvenile palms—sweaty devils that they were—had ended up around the hilt of the glorious piece of finery that he had seen in his entire life. When it was freed from the stone, Arthur fell backwards under the weight of a weapon that was almost as tall as he was. His first thought in that moment, “Oh crap, what have I done.” In his feeble attempt to place the sword back into the stone, Arthur—exasperated and scared—swallowed the lump of failure as his onlookers watched in awe. Their new king. King Arthur. A part of him shook inside when the crowd—his subjects—bowed. His stomach churned and his heart fluttered. What was he to do? Merely a teen, peasant boy, he had no formal knowledge on ruling a kingdom. How in the hell was he—Arthur—to pull off a feat that was sitting on the cusp of defeat?

  Arthur sighed. That was so long ago. Many moons and suns had passed since then. He eventually was mentored. A great wizard had taken him under his wing and reared him to sit on the throne that he occupied in this very moment. His throne. His castle—Camelot. His kingdom—Britain. And what some would say—ruler of the world. But other woes had plagued him over the years. Wars with neighboring lands were not many but some had occurred. Thank goodness his army were pillars of strength. They were always at the ready to take on any force. Sure, Arthur had his non-supporters. Who wouldn’t in his position? He was not a blood heir. Many of the land had to learn him. Get used to his rule. But another issue had arisen in the past year or so that troubled him. His twenty-third year of birth was upon him and his world had shrunken. The same nightmare that he was sure that haunted his predecessor was now his daily threat. Like a cancer, it was something he could not avoid. An heir was needed and he, King Arthur, was not getting any younger as the new world was emerging before his eyes.

  To think of an heir was to revel in his prominent, yet personal, issues. Yes, Arthur had tasted the forbidden flesh of the opposite sex. He had no issue partaking in the carnal sin of fornication, but once his advisor informed him of what he needed to provide to his kingdom, his world had crumbled. Lackadaisical and carefree was his life once he got the hang of things. Sign this. Appear here. Vacations on the countryside. Lavish dinners with outside dignitaries. But now—an heir was needed by Britain. The weight of the stress was enough to knock him off of his feet. To be able to perform in a manner of intimacy was just too much to swallow.

  Many beautiful ladies of the court had been thrust upon him. One he found on his bed after he had completed a brisk horseback ride through the forest. She was completely nude. Milky thighs spread apart with an interesting smooth, wooden handle in her hand. She was the brightest of blonds. Hair like a bushel of straw. A rare maiden, unlike one he had never seen. Pale. Not in the sick sense. But in the pure sense. She was magnificent. As Arthur happened upon her, he approached his bed, halting only at the foot to watch her display. She took the small handle—about the size of a sword’s hilt—and she place it between her sweet, tenderness. She was swollen and plump like puckered rose buds with the lightest shade of pink that matched the thick morsels sitting atop her heaving bosom. As she rubbed herself, up and down, with the apparatus, she release light breaths that deepened over moments as she hastened her movements.

  Arthur licked his lips. He watched her essence appear before him. Filled with desire and hunger for new flesh, the maiden was more than whetting his appetite. She began to fondle at her silky breasts that looked like billows of clouds rumbling over the plains of her chest. Her moans transformed into groans and Arthur was not going to allow himself to stand back and be a mere spectator.

  Knowing that it would be a chore to unlace his boots and remove them while watching a woman as exqui
site as the blond beauty perched upon his calfskin bedding, he opted to unlace his trousers instead. Once he freed himself of his cloth restraints, he began quick work on bringing himself to life. As he fisted his flesh, she watched him. Spying his determination. The maiden opened herself wider to him—her king. He so wanted to rule every orifice that she possessed, but something was wrong. With every pump of his hand against his shaft, nothing happened. The life was missing. It remained limper than a stalk in desperate need of water. There was no way he could invade her wet and ready body with his apparent deflation.

  “Blasted!” Arthur shouted. Something was wrong. He was broken and in need of repair.

  That was the defining day that the greatest mission of Britain’s history began. Not the mission of creating an heir, but the task of stiffening Arthur’s own Excalibur.

  Chapter Two

  Many doctors, specialists, and chosen elders had been requested for a showing at Camelot. The king was desperate. He was not too worried about giving Britain what it needed to survive—an heir. Arthur was worried about not being able to lay with a woman any more. The thought of not being able to make a woman scream out. Put her into a senseless state of insanity just from his intrusion. None of that could be accomplished without an erection.

  The first hypothesis was that the king was tired. They had finished a small dispute with a neighboring land. Not quite a war, but a battle or two was had. That was it. The king is exhausted the first expert stated. After resting in bed for nearly two weeks nothing happened. He had rested long enough and still could not perform.

  “Next!” Arthur blurted for another specialist to be called upon.

  “Herbs…medicines,” the ugliest of elder women said in a raspy voice to his advisors.

  Everything in Arthur wanted to run for the hills when she entered the room. Short, stumpy, the stench of a thousand motes. Plainly, Arthur did not want any parts of what she was offering. Then he looked down to his crotch and saw no movement. God, he had been blessed with a tool that even soft took two hefty hands to grip and now, it was dead. Arthur looked up to the woman who was wiping a stream of drool from her mouth. She had more gum than teeth. Foul. He motioned for her to bring her potion to the throne. After downing the putrid concoction, Arthur fell into a deep state of hysterics. He was placed in his room as he was not able to care for himself. Hours of sweats and hallucinations occurred immediately. Then the test. Three of the most taut, wet, and rounded in the right places ladies entered the royal chamber without a stitch of clothing on their desirable bodies. Even though Arthur could not make out specifics, he knew that all three were assaulting him in the most debaucherous manner. Two were making fast work on his problem area. He heard their moans and felt the grips to his flesh. The third was on a separate mission. She hovered over his face, touching of her folds. Droplets of her sweet nectar danced across Arthur’s lips as he luxuriated in the carnal event.