Pretty Pretty Princess

by McKenzie, Shane

  The cook, satisfied with the job he’d done, stood, shot another grin toward Gavin, then spun to face the sow, running his hands over her skin.

  “I still got a job to do. See, I’m in no hurry to get home. Not at all. And I’m thinkin’, pig, since it’s just you and me left, you won’t mind if I have a little taste of pork twat, right?” He shoved his hand into the gaping opening on her belly, wiggled it around, then pulled it free, watched the blood run down his forearm from his hand. “Now let’s check the sweet spot, ya?”

  The cook was either completely confident that Gavin’s cage was inescapable, or he was too enthralled by what he was doing to care. He ignored Gavin as he raged and speared the metal bars, scooting it bit by bit until he could see the edge of the table under him, the floor beyond that.

  The cook reached higher, teeth bared as he concentrated, then his eyes widened and a fresh grin spread across his cheeks. “There she is. This one’s had her a litter or two. Looser than a set of wet curtains, she is. But I’m thinkin’ she’ll do just fine. A little cold, though. Don’t take long for ’em to go cold. But I can heat her up.”

  It took him a few moments to push the cauldron out of the way. Both hands pressed hard against it, his body was almost horizontal as he kicked his feet. The pot of boiling water took even longer, and for a moment, Gavin didn’t think the cook could manage it. But he was persistent, and once the pot was below the sow, steam exploding out the top, he took a seat and leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

  Gavin, gasping, his face numb from the constant collisions, took his own break. He watched the blood pouring from his snout splash onto the floor. If he could get the cage another six inches or so past the edge of the table, he thought he could tip the whole thing forward. He knew it might result in an ugly fall and nothing more, but it was the only plan he had.

  “Know what the water’s for, pig? You’ll be dipped in it next, so figure you’d like to know, eh? Firms the skin up real nice. Makes it easier to scrape the hair off. But I figure just a quick dip’ll heat that cunt right up. Whatta ya think, pig? I’d let ya out to have a go yourself, I would. Only my ma told me to never trust a talkin’ animal. And I still haven’t forgiven ya for kickin’ me across the head.”

  He stood, dusted his hands off, then walked to the side of the sow. Wrapped his fists over a wooden crank and slowly started lowering her into the water. The water hissed when the pig’s flesh touched its surface, like a sighing beast getting its first taste of a long awaited meal.

  Gavin watched the sow, whose name he didn’t even know, disappear into the pot. The scent of cooked pork filled the air instantly, and though he could hardly hold onto consciousness anymore, Gavin threw himself forward again, yelped when he hit metal. The cage scooted up a bit more.

  “For a talkin’ pig, you don’t talk much.”

  “For a pig fucker, you don’t fuck much.”

  “Now that’s a fair point, it is. Guess she’s probably warmed up pretty good now. Let’s test her out, ya?”

  Her body steamed like she’d swallowed a thundercloud that was seeping back out through her pores. The hot water had cooked her enough that the meat at her joints split and separated, but the ropes still held her up.

  “Already smells better than my wife’s cunt. If every cunt in the realm smelled like bacon, it’d be a better world to live in, it would.”

  He shoved the pot out of the way, bracing his back up against it and using his legs to shove off the wall. Then he lowered the sow to the ground, but just low enough so that her front end touched, making sure her back end was still stuck up in the air. The way she was lying now, her eyes were pointed directly at Gavin, and her boiled, dark pink face was frozen in an expression of horror.

  The cook stuck his fingers back in, made a sound like he just took a drink of cold water. “There we are. Just right.”

  And then his pants hit the floor.

  Gavin rammed again. Harder and harder as the wet slapping sound started. The moaning and grunting. He glanced up once, steam still rising from the sow’s flesh, her ears flopping as the cook thrust behind her. His fingers were plunged knuckle-deep into the meat of her boiled back.

  He wasn’t sure how long he was attacking that cage, how many times he slammed himself against it. But then he was falling. Felt like time slowed as he and the cage dove toward the floor.

  The front of the cage hit first. Gavin’s head slammed into it, nearly made him black out. The momentum of the fall threw the cage forward and Gavin ended up on his back. Moaning, gasping, and fighting off unconsciousness with every shred of will he had left.

  He rolled onto his belly, shook the blood from his eyes.

  The door lay open.

  He was so surprised to see it open that he could only stare at it. A quick look at the cook showed he was too deep in the boiling hot ocean of ecstasy to notice what had happened. Eyes squeezed shut. Sweat pouring down his head. Hair pasted to his forehead. An idiotic grin on his face, like a sleeping man having a wet dream.

  Gavin crawled out of the cage. Stretched his legs once he was free. Took a deep breath and chuckled as he watched the cook pumping away.

  He crept across the room. Climbed the sow’s head and neck, tiptoed across her soft back until he stood on her rump.

  The cook bared his teeth, grunted, then arched his back and howled, slapped the sow’s ass, flinging grease as he did it, and snickered.

  “Gods. That was the best piece of rump I ever had, it was.”

  His eyes rolled open and landed on Gavin.

  “Feel like talkin’ now, motherfucker?”

  Gavin pounced on him before he had a chance to pull out.

  ***

  Francis sat in the corner of the dungeon, hugging his knees to his chest. All fear and confusion had left his mind hours ago. Or what he assumed was hours ago. With no windows and the only source of light a single torch mounted on the wall across the dungeon, time was impossible to keep track of.

  The tears had dried up. The flurry of questions roaring through his mind dissolved. Only defeat remained. Defeat and a strong feeling of inevitability. He should have known it would end this way. In the world he lived in, expecting people to change was like expecting to quench your thirst with a fistful of stones. It was useless, he knew that now. The whole thing a waste of time.

  Maybe the princess was better off in her tower after all. I didn’t save her. I exposed her to the cruel world.

  She had every right to abandon us here.

  Though the idea of being put to death still terrified him, part of him wished he could get it over with. Leave this realm. Whatever awaited him in the afterlife couldn’t be any worse.

  “You have grown quiet, Prince,” Sonia said. She had been sitting in the same spot since they arrived, meditating, making a soft humming sound that was maddening at first, but had eventually become quite calming and peaceful.

  “What more is there to say?”

  “You fear death, is that it? The new king’s threat has shaken you?”

  “Of course I fear death. Who doesn’t?”

  “Death is nothing but a gateway to another world. A better world.”

  “And who told you this? My friend Gavin and I—”

  “The talking pig?”

  “Yes, the talking pig. The same talking pig who is probably a pile of meat now thanks to me.” Francis shook the thought from his mind. “As I was saying. We have traveled all across the realm trying to help princesses. And when it comes to the afterlife, there is more variety of theories than there are shades of brown. No person alive can say for certain what is true and what is not.”

  “And what is your theory?”

  “I have none. And it’s not the fear of the unknown. It’s the fear of pain. Torture. I’m afraid it will hurt to be killed. Not a very glamorous or heroic thing to say, is it, Sonia? If that’s what you were expecting, you will be greatly disappointed. That seems to be my strongest ability. The power to disappoint.
I’m not sure what the princess told you about me, but it was all false. Unless she told you I was a coward.”

  Sonia shook her head and laughed. “The world is full of strong, powerful men. Men who fear nothing. Who assume the world belongs to them and that they have the right to take anything, or anyone, they wish. The kind of men who would have said they do not fear death or pain or torture just now. Who would have said they welcome it. There are plenty of those men. You are exactly who you need to be. You are the beginning of a new realm.”

  “Am I?” Francis stood and rapped his knuckles against the stone wall. Then he walked to the other side of the dungeon and kicked that wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re trapped. I am not the beginning of anything.”

  “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are? If you didn’t fancy men, I might have stolen a kiss by now.”

  “Right. The famous fucking Prince of Granada. Banished because of my taste for men. I’m not sure how that rumor was started, but it’s not true. Not that it matters now. It might as well be true.”

  “Well, whether it’s true or not, I’ll keep my distance.”

  “Of course you will. Just like every other woman I’ve ever crossed paths with. One look at me and you can already picture your weak, wiry children. Reading instead of fighting. Pulling flowers from the dirt rather than pulling heads from necks.”

  “It’s not that. I do not want to make the princess jealous.”

  “The princess? Jealous?”

  “Adorable. Yes, the princess. She fancies you, or have you not noticed?”

  “She’s out of her mind is what she is. And who wouldn’t be after being alone for so long? Her only friend a rat carcass puppeteered by her own madness. And in case you have forgotten, she left us. She fled when she could have easily saved us.”

  “Do not jump to conclusions so quickly, Prince. We are meant to be here. For now.”

  Francis nodded and approached her, gently patted her on the shoulder. “I appreciate your attempt at keeping things positive, but no amount of optimism can transform a coward as cowardly as I. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit back down and patiently await my death.”

  The moment he sat, a door creaked open and slammed shut in the dark distance. Metal clicked against the stone floor as footsteps approached, faint male voices coming with it. As the sound grew closer, the voices became clearer, gruff and hoarse, cackling as they spoke.

  The smirk Sonia had been wearing since she had broken her meditative state quickly peeled free. She shook her head, backed away from the metal bars and toward the wall beside Francis.

  “This is not supposed to happen. Not now. This is not part of the plan.”

  “What plan?” Francis asked, but the guards appeared on the other side of the bars before Sonia could answer.

  “Hello, beauties. You two aren’t up to no good, are ya?” the guard said, running his armored fingers across the bars and filling the air with metallic ringing.

  “Unless that one there’s got a cock stuffed down her skirt, the prince’ll be havin’ no interest,” the other guard said, elbowing his mate and coughing as he attempted to laugh.

  “Has it been a day already?” Francis asked. “Is . . . is my father here?”

  “A day? It’s been a few hours at most. Not doin’ so well down here, huh? Well I’ve got good news for you. You won’t be waitin’ no more. Change of plans. You die tonight, Prince. And your little whore friend as well.”

  Both guards snickered as the door was unlocked and thrown open. They unsheathed their swords as they entered.

  “Change of plans? But why?” Sonia said, her pupils bouncing from blade to blade.

  “That talkin’ pig is why. Fucked up the king’s plans. Got him all worked up and bent out of shape. Thought the poor little fella was gonna start bawlin’ right there when he found out what happened.”

  “He’s our king until we hear different,” the other guard said. “If you’re gonna talk that way about him, do it when I’m not in earshot, yeah? One of his tantrums could mean death for any one of us, and I for one plan to stay on his good side.”

  “He’s got no good side,” Sonia said. “And he is not your king.”

  “What about Gavin? Is he all right?”

  “Gavin?”

  “The talking fucking pig! You said this was his fault. What’s happened to him?”

  The guards shared a look, then burst out laughing. They both still held their swords out, but were bent over as they roared. Sonia took a quick step toward them, and they shot up fast, thrust their blades toward her neck.

  “Not so fast, servant girl. Unless you’d like a new cunt across your neck.”

  “Please. What’s happened to my pig?” Francis approached the guard and got a metal tip just under his eye for it. He held his hands up. “You’re going to kill me. What harm is there in telling me what’s happened to my friend?”

  “Fuck it. Tell him already. He’ll love this,” the other guard said, then kicked Sonia’s legs out from under her and straddled her back. He yanked her arms behind her and began shackling them.

  “Against the wall,” the guard closest to Francis said.

  Francis did as he was told, hooked his arms behind his back before the guard had to force him to do it.

  “You wanna know where your pig is now? Nobody knows. He escaped the kitchen. Made quite the mess. A sight I won’t soon forget, I’ll tell you that. Gods, what a sight it was.”

  “From what we could tell,” said the other guard, staying on top of Sonia even after she was restrained, “one of the cooks turned on the other. Didn’t have time to cover it up before your pig got loose. He did, however, have time to shove his cock into the sow’s twat chop, though. Filled her up with warm, salty sauce. While he was doing that, the talking pig got loose from his cage.”

  “Didn’t give him a chance to pull his cock out before he ate his face clean off,” the guard said as he shackled Francis’s wrists. “So we go in there, on the king’s orders to find out what was taking dinner so long. And we walk in to find one cook dead, a hog skull the murder weapon. And the other with a grinnin’, bloody skull for a face mounting a boiled sow from behind. Bloody hoof prints leading out the door.”

  “And fuck if we didn’t laugh. The only thing funnier than that was the look on the king’s face when we told him.”

  Gavin escaped! He’ll save us. I know he will. He wouldn’t leave me here.

  “You do not have to follow Balthazar’s orders,” Sonia said. “He is not your king. He kills his guards as if he were swatting flies. And you follow him?”

  “If not him, then who else?”

  “Follow your hearts. Your instinct. Can’t you feel that he is a false king? That he puts us all in danger? The kingdom, the entire realm even. If we allow Balthazar to sit on the throne, we are all doomed.”

  The guards paused, exchanged a look. Then shrugged and hauled Sonia and Francis out of their cell and across the dark dungeon.

  “Sorry, whore. Whether I believe you or not doesn’t matter. And I will not risk my own death just to save the skin of you two. Now come on. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  “You are making a terrible mistake,” she said as she fought her shackles and the guard shoving her forward. “This is not how it’s supposed to be!”

  “Your friend is full of energy, yeah?” the guard behind Francis said, jabbing the point of his sword into the small of Francis’s back to move him along. “You’re awfully quiet for a man who’s about to die. Nothin’ to say, then?”

  Francis listened for the approaching click clack of hooves, certain Gavin would jump out of the darkness at any moment and rescue them. But the only sounds were rattling chains, the roar of the dying torch flame, and Sonia’s pleading.

  “How about a song?” Francis said. “Nothing like a song to brighten the spirits of a condemned man.”

  “The cock lovin’, banished prince would want to sing a song. No time for that
. But I’ll make you a promise. I’ll hire a poet to write a song about the way your head rolled across the ground after the blade separates it from your neck. It’ll be sung to misbehaving children across the land as a warning to do as they’re told. A song that could’ve done a prince like you some good as a young lad, eh?”

  Francis thought he had run out of tears, but as he was dragged out of the dungeon and toward the king’s dining hall, his eyes found moisture, and he wept.

  ***

  Gavin hid inside a suit of decorative armor when he heard the men laughing and approaching down the hall. The dungeon door was only a few feet away, and he could have sworn he heard Francis’s voice in there.

  Shit! I’m comin’, Fran. Don’t you dare die on me!

  Gavin’s body fit almost perfectly into the armor’s torso. He peered out through the slits in the helmet, holding his breath as the two golden guards strolled by, both cackling and going on.

  “Gods, if there was time, I’d have an artist paint a picture of it. Hang it on my wall at home. The kids’d get a kick out of that, I’m sure.”

  “Should bring the pig fucker’s wife in there. Tell her we need her to identify his body, yeah? And without a face, she’d have to take a look at his cock, tell us if she recognized it.”

  Another burst of laughter as they swung open the dungeon door and disappeared inside.

  “You like that, boys?” Gavin whispered as he shimmied his way out. “Nothin’ compared to what I’ll do to you if you touch my prince.”

  He had his head and front hooves out of the helmet, wiggling his rear through. When he kicked off, his back hoof wedged into one of the slits on the helmet, swinging his body around and slamming it into the wall.

  “Oh fuck me,” he said as the entire suit began to tip forward. A panicked squeal escaped his mouth as he tried to kick free. The floor sped toward him as the armor fell.

  And then it stopped. His snout hovered just over the floor, his front hooves tapping against it as he squirmed.

  “Hold still and keep quiet.” The voice came from behind him, soft and whispery.

  The armor was lifted back to standing. Carefully. Quietly. Gavin still hung there, doing his best to stay calm.