Pretty Pretty Princess

by McKenzie, Shane

  My sweet, darling daughter

  In this crazy world

  The king’s regret burns hotter

  Than a dragon’s fire

  Oh Gods, sweet Gods

  Shame on me!

  The pressure’s a bitch, to do what they expect of me

  So ashamed, and I admit, I may have listened to the queen

  I’m the king, I should have seen, this was unfair to my offspring

  Oh Gods shame on me,

  She’s my baby girl

  My sweet, darling daughter

  In this crazy world

  The king’s regret burns hotter

  Than a dragon’s fire

  Oh Gods, sweet Gods

  Shame on me!

  At my age, every day, I can hear Death knocking, stalking

  Me, and I know, I deserve hell, pain and suffering

  My girl, my baby girl, I beg you, please forgive me!

  Oh Gods shame on me,

  She’s my baby girl

  My sweet, darling daughter

  In this crazy world

  The king’s regret burns hotter

  Than a dragon’s fire

  Oh Gods, sweet Gods

  Forgive me!

  ***

  Gavin stumbled out of the hog house, cackling and covered in mud. The king’s golden necklace was so caked in filth it was hardly recognizable. The sows oinked and grunted for him to come back as he leaned on the wooden doorframe and picked the mud from between the golden links.

  “Love to stay, ladies, but I gotta check on my prince. Peckerwood might do somethin’ stupid and get us kicked outta here.” He winked and blew a kiss. “And you chubby beauties are too goddamn sweet for me to let that happen.”

  They snorted and rolled through the mud, trying to entice him to come back inside, but he only cackled harder and slid the door shut.

  “Talk about fuckin’ paradise,” Gavin said, then trotted through the muddy ground back toward the castle. His legs and body were sore from all the fun, and he winced every other step, but still snickered through the pain. Well worth it. He had never in his life been surrounded by so much pink, bristly, cushy flesh all at once. There were times he thought he might suffocate under all the weight, and he was already thinking about heading back tomorrow night.

  “Fran, I take back any doubt I ever had. You were right. Savin’ that crazy fuckin’ broad was the best thing we ever did.”

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the hog house, but outside, the kingdom was quiet. The streets almost empty, except for a few drunkards staggering about—some unconscious and snoring on the ground, but mostly silent. The soup peddler was still stirring his pot, still tossing pinches of ingredients into his soup, giving the same unsatisfied face with every sip he took.

  “Soup maker,” Gavin said as he passed, giving the man a nod.

  “Piss off, ye fucker!”

  “Say what you want. I know you gotta heart of gold in there somewhere.”

  Gavin had to dodge a rotten onion as he trotted away and back toward the castle.

  The guards in front of the castle entrance were busy flirting with a couple of drunken ladies of the night, taking turns running their gold-plated hands up and down the buxom bodies, grunting and snickering. Another guard leaned against the wall near where Gavin had stopped, helmet lowered over his eyes, snoring like he had a thunderstorm caught in his throat.

  A whimper floated down from above.

  When Gavin first saw him dangling there, hanging from a tall window from what looked like a bed sheet, he thought it was Francis. The fabric wasn’t nearly long enough to reach the ground, so the man kicked his legs as he dangled, doing his best to climb back up but failing.

  The man’s toe caught hold of something on the wall, but when he tried to put his weight on it, his foot slid off and the motion spun him around so he was facing Gavin.

  “Prince Balthazar?” Gavin recognized the prick the second his red, sweating face was splashed with moonlight. “Little late night upper body workout, Prince?”

  Just as the prince’s eyes landed on Gavin, he lost his grip and nearly fell, but caught the very end of the sheet with his fingertips. A scream squawked from his arched mouth as he clung to the fabric, legs thrashing like he was kicking invisible birds.

  “You there . . . pig . . . stand below me.” Balthazar bared his teeth and tried to pull himself up so he could wrap his legs around the sheet, but couldn’t manage even an inch. Another child-like whimper sputtered from his pink lips.

  “You might not hear this enough, Prince. But fuck you.”

  “How . . . how dare you! I’ll have you slaughtered this very night! You’ll be on my b-breakfast plate in the morning!” One of his hands slipped and he shrieked, clinging with all he had left with his remaining hand. He whispered his words with a raised voice, as if he didn’t want anyone to see him up there.

  “Come on, Prince. You can be more original than that.”

  “Will you . . . please? Please help me!”

  Gavin checked the guards and they were sitting on the castle steps now, a pair of naked breasts for each of them, wiggling and smothering their faces. The other guard still snored, and as far as Gavin could tell, the others were someplace else.

  “For a kingdom as rich as this one is supposed to be, I figured you’d have better security than this.”

  “There is nothing to fear within the walls. The men watch the wilderness beyond.”

  Gavin smiled and sat down. “Whose window is that you’re danglin’ from, Prince? What’s with the sheet?”

  “I demand you stand beneath me! I’m . . . I’m slipping!”

  “And I’d like to remind you of the time I said fuck you.”

  “If I fall, I will hold you responsible. You’ll be killed!”

  “From where I’m sittin’, looks like you’re the one who needs to worry about bein’ killed. Look at my neck, your royal retard. Your father’s got this slab of bacon protected. And if I let your fat ass flatten me like you want, your father might wanna know who was responsible for tenderizin’ his protected pork.”

  “It won’t do you any good.”

  Gavin thought he noticed a small smile twitch on the prince’s face, so quick it might have been a muscle spasm. “Whatta you mean by that?”

  “Nothing! Just . . . if you soften my landing, pig, I swear I’ll make it worth it. Money! Gold! Anything . . . just don’t let me die! Please!”

  Gavin’s stomach boiled just then, and he pinched one eye shut as a gurgling fart rattled from beneath his corkscrew tail. “Goddamn soup maker.”

  “P-pig! I . . . I can’t hold on . . . ”

  “You’re in luck, Prince.”

  Gavin trudged over, squinted up to make sure he was positioned correctly, then bent over and clenched.

  An explosion of hot feces erupted from his backside and piled up on the ground just under the dangling prince who, on sight of what Gavin was doing, had a burst of adrenaline and managed to reach up with his other hand and grip the sheet.

  “Oh shit yeah,” Gavin said through clenched teeth. The necklace grew tighter as the cords in his neck bulged and thick logs lubricated with magma-hot liquid poured out of him.

  “That’s not . . . That’s not what I meant!” the prince whined, then finally lost his grip.

  Gavin squeezed another spurt out before hopping away just in time. The prince landed face-first in the excrement pile, and even though the fall was steep, the mound of waste was dense enough to keep him from colliding with earth.

  “You never looked better, Prince Balthazar. You’d be a hit over at the hog house, I bet.”

  Balthazar stayed still for a few moments, so still that Gavin thought the drop had killed him after all, but then he moaned and turned on his side, spitting and then gasping for air. His white teeth were smeared with filth, and as he panted, liquid shit curled and uncurled over his lips. Splashes of brown water sprayed from his lashes with every blink of his eyes
.

  “A thank you would be nice. I know a whole house fulla hogs that’d love a pile of shit as quality as that one there.”

  “You’ll pay for this, pig. You . . . you’ll p-pay.” He gagged, burped, and swallowed something big down. His face almost went green then, and he stood, shot Gavin another scowl, then staggered away, belching between weeps as he went.

  “I’m a goddamn hero,” Gavin said as he watched the prince hobble away, then turned and marched toward the castle entrance.

  The guards mumbled something to Gavin through their mouthfuls of bosom fat, then quickly went back to smothering themselves when they saw the gold chain.

  “If you can pull those chewed up circles of jerky those broads are callin’ their nipples, maybe you can open the fuckin’ door for me. I’d do it myself, but hooves are only good for one thing.”

  One guard lifted the tits with both hands and peaked out. “Yeah? And what might that be, eh?”

  Gavin turned, lifted his back hooves, and kicked the guard in the side of the head, spinning his helmet so the face plate was over his ear.

  “Fucking swine bastard,” the second guard said, tossing his wench away and sending her rolling down the castle’s stone steps. She landed with her bare ass in the air, the anus so hairy it looked like she was smuggling spiders in it.

  The first guard tossed his woman away, but Gavin straightened his tail and she grabbed it before tumbling away. The guard stood, cursing as he wrestled with his helmet. By the time he got it turned back around, Gavin was already displaying his necklace on his puffed chest.

  “Don’t forget about the king’s protection, cocksuckers.” Gavin pulled the woman close to him and jammed his snout into her face, kissing her deep. When she pulled away, her mouth and nose were stamped with mud and shit, yet she smiled when she faced the guards.

  “Yes, m’lord, pig. Of course,” the second guard said.

  The first guard mumbled but trudged toward the door and helped the other open the doors.

  Gavin strolled in, then stopped and snorted to get their attention again. “Which way to my room, golden boys?”

  “Up the stairwell. End of the hall. You’ll be sharing a room with your fancy prince, you will. And no king’s chain’ll save ya from the queer of Granada’s ass-sniffin’ cock head, eh?”

  “I’ll take my chances. It’s you fellas that need to be bein’ careful.”

  “And why’s that, hog, eh?”

  “Pig’s gotta good sense of smell. And both of those wenches got disease so thick in their twats, the smell could make a maggot go vegan. Have a good night, now.”

  Chuckling, he strolled into the castle and trotted right up the stairs. As dimwitted as he was, the guard’s directions were easy enough. He tapped his hoof on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Your best friend. Now open up, will ya?”

  “Gavin!” Francis said and hugged the pig as he trotted in. “I can tell by the layer of mud across your body that you’ve had yourself a good night.”

  “Don’t know about you, Fran, but I’m not leavin’. Even sang a song, I was so fuckin’ happy.”

  “A song? You? Let’s hear it.”

  “Sorry. The magic of the song spat out the tip of my cock with the first load I spent. Now all I wanna do is lie the fuck down.”

  “Wait,” Francis said, hopping up and down on his bed. “I’ve got so much to tell you. You first. Tell me . . . what do you think of Trulia? What adventures have you had?”

  A pallet of pillows and soft fabric was piled in the corner, and Gavin yawned as he trudged toward it, plopped down with a sigh. “I know I’m in no rush to leave this place. Even if there are insane princesses with magic pest powers and onion-throwing soup makers and princes dangling from windows.”

  “What’s that? Princes dangling from windows?”

  “I . . . He landed in shit . . . I’m a fuckin’ hero . . . ”

  Gavin’s eyes slowly clamped shut, and even as Francis rambled on and asked more questions, the world faded.

  9

  Francis had paced the room for what felt like hours after Gavin had fallen asleep. Mostly from excitement and a feeling of accomplishment, which was an alien feeling for him. But something about what Gavin had said just before dozing off troubled him.

  A prince dangling from a window? It wasn’t me, which means . . . Was Balthazar trying to spy? And if so, for what purpose?

  Probably just jealousy, Francis figured. He was in line to take over the throne, assuming his older sister was dead. The kingdom was as good as his, and from the looks of the king, it wouldn’t be long before the crown was sitting atop his head.

  And then in marches Francis with the long lost princess, the firstborn of Trulia and the rightful heir, ruining all of poor Balthazar’s plans.

  That’s all it was. Nothing to be concerned about. We can probably expect many more tantrums from him.

  Francis wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. He woke up on the floor, curled into a ball, shivering from the cold. Gavin still snored in the corner, his ear twitching.

  A sound. It was a sound that had woken him up, and it was the same sound that seemed to tickle the pig’s eardrums.

  Screaming. Hysterical screaming and shouting from somewhere in the castle. It sounded like it came from above them. Directly above.

  The king’s room?

  “A pound of gold says that screamin’s got somethin’ to do with your rat princess.” Gavin stood, stretched, and squeezed out a rumbling fart before traipsing toward Francis and sitting beside him.

  Francis pulled his shirt collar over his nose—something he had grown used to doing traveling beside his portly friend.

  “You haven’t got a pound of gold.”

  “Not yet. But we’re the brave heroes who brought the princess home. They’ll be gold-plating our balls by the end of the day.”

  Rapid, clanging footsteps approached their door. Francis jumped to his feet and fumbled his hands, not sure what else to do but stand there and wait. Gavin hid behind him, wedging his snout between his calves.

  “I got a bad feeling about this, Fran.”

  “It does seem rather ominous . . . ”

  “Still got the king’s gold chain.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to do us any good.”

  “Yeah.”

  The door shattered inward, throwing splinters and jagged wooden chunks into the room, raining over Francis and Gavin.

  Francis threw his arms over his face and turned, though he was still poked in the neck and arms. From the way Gavin was squealing and cussing beneath him, he figured he had suffered the same.

  Picking the wooden needles from his neck, Francis faced the door.

  Trulia’s golden guards marched in and formed tight lines on both sides of Francis, all facing him. They looked uncomfortably close to one another. A metallic clanging sound rang out every time a new guard pressed himself against the one in front of him.

  In walked Prince Balthazar, a smug look on his face as he entered and glanced around the room. Hands behind his back, gut sticking out and wrapped in some flowery garment, he took slow, heavy steps as he approached Francis. Then he stopped, glared at his men on both sides of him. His face turned as red as a peeled grapefruit.

  “Did I tell you all to sodomize one another, or are you having a laugh?”

  “A tight, compact line, you said, m’lord.” The guard beside him said this, but kept his eyes pointing straight ahead. Sweat dripped down his face.

  “You,” Balthazar said and pulled another guard from the line and shoved him toward the one who just spoke. “Drive your sword through his face. I don’t like it.”

  “M-m’lord?”

  “You shall be next if you waste another second questioning me!”

  “Wait!” the first guard said, holding up his golden hands, but was quieted by the second guard’s blade as it sheathed itself into his eye socket. He gurgled, sliding his armored fi
ngers over the metal like he was sharpening its edge, then fell over.

  “Back in line,” Balthazar said, and the guard quickly followed orders. “And the lot of you, spread out! You look ridiculous! Pull your cocks out of the man in front of you and make some bloody room!”

  The guards followed orders, the air becoming cluttered with the sound of pounding metal as they took their new places.

  “So now that you proved how big your dick is, wanna tell us what the fuck this is all about?” Gavin faced Prince Balthazar. “Or did you forget how I saved your ass already?”

  “Saved me? A talking slab of meat like you? I have no idea what you are referring to.” Balthazar snapped his fingers. “Grab the pig. Take him to the kitchen.”

  “Now wait just a minute!” Francis scooped up Gavin and held him tight. “What is the meaning of all this? Where’s the king? Does he know what you’re doing, Balthazar?”

  Balthazar held his smirk as he wiped away a tear. Francis couldn’t tell if he was actually crying or not, but the performance seemed far less than sincere.

  “If only the king could, banished Prince of Granada. You see, the king, my dear father, was found slain in his own bed this morning. Poisoned, it seems. Or cursed by black magic.”

  “He what?” Francis nearly collapsed, the edges of his vision beginning to swim. “But . . . I was in his room just last night. He seemed fine. Strong. He even sang a song.”

  “So you admit you were the last to see him alive?”

  “I admitted no such thing. I was in his room because he invited me there. We spoke of your sister and of my home. He sang. He wept. The guards were just outside the door. It’s no secret I was there! But the last to see him alive?”

  “That’s what you were doing. You fuckin’ sack of whore’s shit.” Gavin wiggled free and dropped from Francis’s arms. Just as his hooves clicked against the ground, he shot after Balthazar whose expression stretched wide as he ran and hid behind his guards.

  The guard’s sword held Gavin back. The pig bared his teeth and tusks, so angry he was foaming at the mouth.

  “Danglin’ from a window in the middle of the night. I knew you were up to no good. That was the king’s window, wasn’t it, asshole?”

  “Gavin?” Francis said. “What’s this about?”