Cross Dressed Fairy Tales 3 The Adventures of Pierrot
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Cross-Dressed Fairy Tales - Rapunzel free porn video
Some familiar fables transformed for readers of
transgendered tales. In part 1, Sherry and Sadie, two
married men on a "girl's night out" visit a lesbian bar and
go home with Big Sue and Mike, two women who are
dangerously upset to discover that they've been seduced by
two cross-dressed males cheating on their wives.
Like Sheherazade in the Arabian Nights, Sherry decides that
the only way to protect their -- um, posteriors, is to
entertain Big Sue with fabulous stories. Alas, being less
inventive than the fabled storyteller who told 1,001
original tales to prevent her sultan and groom from
continuing his -- decidedly non-feminist -- practice of
killing his brides on their wedding night, the best that
Sherry can do is to mangle stories she read as a child.
Fortunately, Big Sue had a childhood so deprived that it
didn't even reach the level of being Grimm, and so she
wasn't entirely certain that the first story she heard --
about a transsexual named Snow White -- was perhaps a wee
bit derivative. Even so, Big Sue has insisted that the
second story be friendlier to lesbians -- or else. Here
is found Sherry's second tale, which may remind some -- if
they twist their mind into the correct Yogic position -- of
the story of Rapunzel, the teenaged girl whose hair could
leap tall buildings in a single bound.
---
Mary Jane, the Little Turnip By: Sherry
There was a time in a peaceable kingdom far, far from Texas
but closer than New Guinea, when a married couple long in
vain wished for a child. As they were too virtuous,
cautious and polite -- and much too cold -- to undress in
front of each other, they did not realize that they both
were women, but the kingdom cared not because ...
"Watch it, sissy," Big Sue snarled, tightening her grip on
Sherry's neck "this had better not be a story about stupid
dykes or I'm going to grease my arm up to my shoulder and
twirl you around on it."
Sherry gasped out an answer: "N...o, they...re ... not ...
even ... lesbian. They ... both ... are ... des ... desper
... ate for a ... man."
"Two women desperate for a man?" Big Sue snorted. "This is
definitely a tale being told by a male fairy." Sherry now
gasped for breath as Big Sue loosened her death hold.
"Well, get on with it, sissy. But you've been warned: No
stupid lesbians!"
Sherry resumed her story, very cautiously --
To continue -- At length, Shania, the more businesslike of
the two women hoped that God was about to grant her deepest
desires, for a peddler of digital clocks came by their
modest, overtaxed cottage in its sensibly-sized lot, and
even though he was dripping wet from the endless downpour,
he was to her eyes an impressive specimen of manhood
because she liked her men to be goateed and gaunt, elderly
and wealthy, and decked out in gaudy stars and stripes from
their "Mad Hatter" hat to their cowboy boots. In this fair
kingdom women often lusted after such men, but felt very
guilty and used thereafter.
Lured by his digital technique and nifty entreaties, Shania
freely gave of her virginity; they exchanged fluids, and
she was left barefoot and pregnant as the gaudy peddler
rode off into the sunset singing, "This land is my land,
this land is your land, from ..." The rest of his refrain
could not be heard for the pounding rain.
The two women had one window in their cottage (there being
few windows in this fair land because of the General Pane
Tax) from which a splendid garden could be seen, full of
the most beautiful flowers and herbs, all of them very tall
because of the rain flowing down the bald mountains unto
the tree-tossed sea. Alas, the garden was surrounded by an
even taller wall topped with razor wire, and no one dared
go into it because it belonged, it was diffidently
murmured, to a satanic enchantress of great political power
who headed a cult of devil's angels. At times the demons
roared so loud that Shania couldn't hear the rain.
One day late in the afternoon, when Shania was retching
from The Window because of morning sickness, she saw in the
garden one hundred and sixty acres (or maybe it was
hectares) planted with the tallest marijuana, and it looked
so fresh and green because of its GM seeds that she coveted
it, and had the greatest desire to smoke some -- or at
least to cut it down to an appropriate, more modest size.
This desire increased every day and she became consumed
with moral outrage at the global unfairness of it all --
that some people had all the marijuana simply because they
grew it. Shania quite pined away, and began to look pale
and miserable. For forty days and nights of rain her
husband foolishly blamed the weather, but finally Celine
was so alarmed that she asked, "What ails you, dear wife?"
Big Sue groaned loudly. Or possibly she burped. Then, as
sarcastically as she could manage, she repeated with
emphasis on the wrong syllables, "What ails you, dear wife?
You gotta be kidding! Nobody, but nobody, speaks that way -
not even in fairy tales. Can't you do better than that?
After all, I've had to put up with a lot of nonsense in
this story. I'm supposed to believe, for instance, that
any woman could possibly be as stupid as Shania!"
"But this is a story about another land," Sherry hastily
said to avoid strangulation; "it may remind you of our own
land, but the fair land has always been twenty years behind
the times, and its saintly people mainly spake quaintly."
"What's suddenly with all these words with a long 'A'
sound?"
"Because," Sherry replied, "the people of the peaceable
kingdom cherish the sound of the first letter of their
alphabet, and they say 'A' as often and as long as
possible. I should have been putting in a lot of words in
my ... tale with a long 'A', so I am making -- get it? --
making up for lost taime."
"I didn't know there could be a long 'A' in time," Big Sue
said.
"There can be if you're twenty years behind the time."
"I bet," said Big Sue, finally getting into the spirit of
Sherry's tale, "that in twenty years' time the people of
the fair but distant land will move on to the letter B."
"Boss bet, Big Beauty. Ouch! Why did you do that for?"
yelped Sherry.
"Watch it, sissy. I don't need your approval. You need
mine unless you want to feel my disapproval where the sun
don't shine. And unless this story improves -- like, can
there be less rain? You got me constantly needing to pee --
well, it had better improve. Hear me? Now get on with
your story before I decide to make you into a real girly
man by grabbing your cock and balls with my free hand and
then pulling them back so damn deep into your guts that
you'll end up with a snatch. Nah, getting a vagina is far
too good a fate for the likes of you. I'll have to think
something that doesn't leave you better off than when you
came. So talk -- What AILS the dear wife? Get on with
it!"
Half-strangled, Sherry could only nod, until Big Sue's grip
released enough for the panting pantywaist to suck in
enough air to resume his tale. He wanted to say, "She was
suffering from morning sickness, you dumbass. Shania's
whole world was out of joint. She didn't even have pot to
barf in. She was constantly grassing because it was
maddening to her that she didn't have a reefer. Have you
got it yet, Big Sue? Or do I have to spell out the plot
for you with sweet-smelling smoke rings? Cripes, what a
dope you are!"
But instead, Sherry continued thus --
When Celine asked Shania what AILED her, the pregnant one
replied, "Can't you see I've been upchucking my donuts
every day? If I don't get some Mary Jane to smoke, I shall
die." Celine, who loved her despite their sexual
incompatibility and Shania's constant moaning about how
things are more-up-to-date south of the fair land, could
not let her die, and so snuck into the deadly garden to
bring her back some weed.
The marvelous weed did wonders for Shania's morale. Buoyed
by her high spirits, her body chemically imbalanced, she
craved and ate the oddest things -- fried fiddleheads,
fried beavertails, fried potatoes covered in cheese and
'meat' gravy, and fried chocolates made from ... moose
droppings. Alas, Shania soon ate her way through their
savings thanks to her special passion for pickles and ice
cream, which were very costly in this fair land because of
the Gherkins and Sugar Tax. And so she returned to The
Window to look for food to free from the walled garden.
She saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful
rampion, and it looked so fresh and green because of its
Ford and Chrysler seeds that she coveted it, and deciding,
once again, that the Earth's bounty should be shared
equitably (save for the pools of water filled by the
unending rain in her part of the fair land), she begged
Celine to "liberate that delicious looking weed from our
selfish neighbor."
Worried about Shania, who looked quite green with envy,
Celine at twilight clambered over the razor wire and down
the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily
clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to Shania. She
at once made herself a salad from it, and ate it greedily.
Her mouth thus stuffed, Shania could not fend off a lecture
from Celine, who had developed superior airs from growing
up in the polluted center of the fair land: "You have no
idea of what you're eating, do you?" Shania shook her
head.
"It's rampion. That's a type of turnip green."
Shania tried to look interested.
"I am confident," Celine continued, "that you don't know
its botanical name; well, it's Campanula rapunculus A.
That rap word actually means Little Turnip. Isn't that
positively droll? The quaintest folk in the fair land,
those who have horse-drawn buggies and speak a language
from which our own tongue german-ated, call it Rapunzel.
Remember that capital letter because these unfortunates
capitalize almost everything, and so are unfairly accused
of shouting whenever they enter chat rooms. I say it's
unfair because they have not actually shouted for a half-
century. Don't you agree?"
Shania shrugged -- whatever. Yet she was so obsessed with
the RAPUNZEL that the next day she longed for it three
times as much as before. Celine knew that if she was going
to get any rest that she'd once more have to descend into
the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, Celine let
himself down again. But when he had clambered down the
wall, another pair of pantyhose ruined by the razor wire,
she was sore afraid (or possibly sore at Shania), for she
saw the enchantress glowering in the dark beside her like a
rain-drenched cabin in a raging forest fire.
"How can you dare," said she with angry look, "descend into
my garden and steal my rampion like a thief?"
"Because I vote socialist?" Celine tried.
"You shall suffer for it," replied the enchantress, who
hauled out a thick book of government regulations through
which she thumbed, looking for the approved punishment for
thieves. "No, that won't do," the enchantress decided;
"there is no way I'm going to elect this woman to anything,
even if it mean she will hereafter be rarely seen in this
fair land. No, I will punish her for the capital murderer
that she is -- for is not my rampion decapitated? And I
will, following regulation 17, imprison her for life, and
thus without the faintest hope of escaping her torment for
at least three years.
Celine tried another tack: "Let mercy take the place of
justice," she pleaded. "I only stole out of necessity. My
pregnant wife saw your rampion from The Window and felt
such a longing for it that she and our unborn baby, whose
legal status is quite uncertain, would both have died if my
wife had not got some exotic greens from your garden to
mulch."
The enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said
to Celine, "If your wife will die without MY rampion, then
I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion as
you need; but I make one condition: You must pay the Garden
Surplus Tax on any rampion you consume."
Celine, terrified, consented to win her escape, but she did
not keep her promise.
When the baby girl was born, they named it after the leafy
greens that had nourished the child in the womb: Little
Turnip (although Celine argued at first for Rapunculus).
To some, who do not know the fair land, the child's name
might seem strange, but it was common in the fair land to
name children after vegetables, since these were scarce and
highly prized during the three winter seasons each year.
Indeed, Celine herself was also known as Little Cabbage --
or 'petit chou' in the argot of her birthplace -- for
children in her natal region must have two names or else
pay the Generational Sexism Tax.
One night, when her parents were both in bed -- in
different beds, of course, as was chaste custom in the fair
land -- the enchantress stole Little Turnip, leaving a
changeling: several kilos of marijuana in her crib, as
well as a note saying that she would raise the child as her
own, as arranged. The addled parents accidentally used the
note to roll a joint, so never noticed the switch.
Even so, from time to time, when their 'cigarettes' were
extinguished by a downpour, they wondered, they wondered
why Little Turnip grew ever smaller. "It should be the
other way round; Little Turnip should be growing larger,"
Shania objected.
But Celine knew better: "Whenever anything gets smaller,
it gets better," she proclaimed. "It's like grapes. When
they shrivel into berries, then it's time to make our
famous ice wine."
Shania was even more confused: "But," she said, "it's
possible to find grapevines covered with ice in any season
in our fair land, and our grapes are rarely bigger than
berries."
The enchantress renamed the girl in honor of her main cash
crop -- Mary Jane. MJ grew into the most beautiful child
in the fair land thanks to frequent visits to a tanning
salon. When she was twelve years old, the enchantress,
much enchanted herself by the little vixen ...
Big Sue was shocked: "Hold on there, buddy. Is this some
kind of kiddy porn? Why did you make her so young? Did
you wear the dress because you thought it would be easier
to get a kid to trust you if you didn't look like a guy?"
Now it was Sherry's turn to be shocked. "I don't care if
you're bigger than me; I'm not going to let you insult me
like that. Obviously, I'm into adult women -- really BIG
adult women -- or I wouldn't be in this fix right now."
It wasn't fair, Sherry thought, to be accused of pederasty.
He hadn't made up the age; he was simply following the
original tale. It wasn't his fault that his German sources
were kinky. "Jeez," he muttered to himself, "Little Snow
White was unbelievable. I knew I had to change her age,
'cause she was only seven years old in the original fairy
tale when the mirror started lusting after her. Hell she
was still a pre-teen when she started keeping house for the
seven lechers."
"Huh, speak up, sissy. What did you just say?"
"Anything you want me to say. You want Mary Jane to be
older so the story will be less creepy? How about thirteen
years old? Will that do?"
"Sure, then she's a teenager and we know what they're like.
They're always ready for action." Then she shook Sherry
and told her, "Okay, get on with it. What about the
princess? It had better be a princess who rescues Mary
Jane from the evil enchantress or ... you'll be able to
finally answer the question -- what do lesbians do together
in bed? -- while you're hanging from the ceiling upside
down and naked like a fruit bat wondering what we dykes
really do with a dildo the size and shape of a baseball
bat."
Gulp. Sherry resumed --
When Mary Jane was THIRTEEN years old, the enchantress,
much enchanted herself by the MATURE little vixen, led her
over the valleys and down the hills, always through the
pouring rain, until they reached a dry plain (this being a
land where the rain did not fall mainly on the plain).
There, beside a pleasant brown river, the enchantress shut
Mary Jane into a tower built of the finest concrete and
precisely 190.8 meters high, but with neither stairs nor
door. Quite at its top a pod revolved, and from its small
windows Mary Jane could see the rain clouds over her
distant birthplace every sixty-two minutes.
When the enchantress wanted to go into the tower to do you
know what, she placed herself beneath it and cried, "Mary
Jane, Mary Jane, let down your hair to me." Mary Jane had
magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she
heard the voice of the enchantress, she unfastened her
braids and wound them around a hook just above the window -
- you know, so that she'd get some leverage. And then the
enchantress would climb up her hair."
"What a lame idea!" scoffed Big Sue. "That's ridiculous.
No one has hair like that, and if she did, she'd never
agree to its being used as a ladder. Just think of the
split ends! Besides, the poor girl would be bald within a
month, and then what would the enchantress do? You're
going to have to do better than that, sissy man. Climbing
up a girl's braids! Imagine that! You'd better come up
with something better, something more realistic. Maybe
Mary Jane lassoed the enchantress like a calf and hauled
her up, ey?"
"I don't think so. Anyway, I wouldn't think that calves
are treated that way in the fair kingdom. But you gave me
an idea of how to improve the story. Big Sue, you should
be writing these stories. You've definitely got a literary
flair."
"Watch it, sissy. Don't think you can get around me with
flattery."
"They use rope -- made of hemp. There's got to be lots of
it available, considering that the enchantress grows
marijuana." Since Big Sue seemed to like the idea, Sherry
began anew --
When the enchantress wanted to go into the tower for hanky-
panky with the young adult of thirteen years, she placed
herself beneath it and cried, "Mary Jane, Mary Jane, let
down your rope to me."
After a year or two, by which time Mary Jane could legally
have sex in the fair kingdom, provided that her suitor
violated none of the guidelines established by the "Royal
Commission on Fiddling About," it came to pass that the
king's son rode ...
"SHERRY! Remember what I said about lesbians!"
"... it came to pass that the king's lesbian son rode
through the forest ..."
"Now, I'm totally confused," said Big Sue scratching her
head. "How can the king's son be a lesbian? Isn't that
hard for a guy to be?"
"No, lots of transgendered folk are male lesbians. The
world is full of -- incredibly -- insightful men who know
not only that women are the superior sex, but also that
lesbianism makes for superior sex."
"I like the way you put that."
"I thought you would," Sherry replied. "So you see, the
love interest of Mary Jane is a prince who's going through
a sex change so that he can be a princess and make love to
other princesses. Okay? But can there be fewer
interruptions? I'm in danger of losing the thread of my
tale."
When Big Sue nodded, Sherry resumed the story --
It came to pass that the king's lesbian son rode beneath
the tower. There he heard a charming song that compelled
him and his golden palomino to stand still and listen. The
songbird was Mary Jane, who in her solitude passed her time
in letting her sweet little voice resound from sea unto
sea:
Every night in my bed
I see you, I feel you,
that is how we go on.
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you climb the rope
And you're here in my arms
and the sex will go on and on
"Wow!" the king's son thought. "That's no virgin. It's
time for me to bestow another royal favor." He wanted to
climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but
none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so
deeply touched his heart (among other things) that he rode
back to the tower every day to listen to it.
She is the khaki river
running through my veins
She rides me without reins --
her name's Dame Avril
She lives in the heart of every
woman in fair land
Within the reach of every girl
who wants to mate her.
The king's son hoped he hadn't heard that last line
properly. There was something suspicious about it. (Big
Sue was, however, vigorously applauding.) Just then, when
he was hiding behind an elk, he saw the enchantress go to
the tower and heard her cry, "Mary Jane, Mary Jane, let
down your rope." Then Mary Jane, the Little Turnip, let
down her braided hemp rope, and the enchantress climbed up
to the eagerly awaiting girl."
"If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I too will try
my fortune," said the king's son, and the next day, after
watching the enchantress depart puffing on a Cuban cigar,
he went to the tower and cried, "Mary Jane, Mary Jane, let
down your rope."
Immediately the rope fell down and the king's son climbed
up. At first Mary Jane was terribly frightened for she had
before seen a man. But the king's son began to woo her,
telling the innocent babe that his heart had been so
stirred by her songs that it had given him no rest. "It
forced me to see you."
Then Mary Jane lost her fear, and when he asked her if she
would take him for her husband, she was so sorely tempted
for she could see that he was young and pretty. "He is a
much better looking than old Dame Anmurraya, and he will
love me more than she."
She gave him a provisional yes, laying her hand in his. "I
willingly go away with you," she said, "provided that you
are a good lay. Pray take off your clothes so that I can
compare you with the withered crone who has been sharing my
bed."
The king's son was found sadly wanting: "Where are your
breasts?" Mary Jane lamented. "You've so terribly flat-
chested. And your clitoris ... it's grotesquely large.
Alas, I cannot go away with you, for Dame Anmurraya is --
and I never thought I'd say this of anyone -- is lovelier
by far than you. Even your hips are too narrow, and it
looks like someone has taken an axe to your derriere."
"Brava, Brava, that a girl!" cheered Big Sue. "You tell
that prince the facts of life -- any woman, no matter how
old, has got a better bod than any man, no matter how
young. Okay, what happened next? I must know." And she
poked Sherry in the ribs.
"Is there any way I could change your mind," the king's son
begged.
"Come back to me with a prettier, more feminine body, my
love, and I will run away with you and be your sex kitten
forever."
The heart of the king's son leapt with joy. Is that all it
would take? A sex change? Heck, that was something he'd
been contemplating since he first learned that the boys in
the fair land were required to lose their teeth playing
hockey. And he went away, promising to return with a
perfect body before coldest winter had turned into hottest
summer, which gave him about two weeks to transform his
being.
Though the king's son planned to return in early July, two
years passed before he next saw the tower. In the fair
land, even a prince had to wait his turn for surgery, which
was, however, the best in the world because it was free,
that is, if one ignored the cost of the Gender Surgery Tax.
Finally, it was his turn. The transformation took but a
moment, thanks to a court-mandated suspension of disbelief,
and the king's new daughter Alanis was finally able to seek
out her one true love, for whom she'd made the ultimate
sacrifice ...
Big Sue was looking mighty mad.
So Sherry switched gears hurriedly -- And Alanis was
finally able to seek out her one true love, for whom she'd
made the minor sacrifice of cutting off her dick. As
hoped, it was love at second sight, and Alanis came by
daily for two weeks -- when the enchantress was away --
while Mary Jane conducted tests to see if her new lover was
as versatile as Dame Anmurraya in bed.
The enchantress didn't clue in until Mary Jane said to her,
"Tell me, Dame Anmurraya, how it happens that you are so
much heavier for me to draw up the rope than the king's
young daughter? She'll be coming by the moment you leave."
"Ah. You wicked child," cried the enchantress. "What do I
hear you say. slut? You've been cheating on me with
another, exposing me to an STD? You have imperiled me."
In her anger, the enchantress shaved Mary Jane's head, and
she was so pitiless that she took the poor girl into a
veritable cultural desert -- to the bleak eastern suburbs
of the most populous city in the fair land, whose
inhabitants kept warm by constantly patting themselves on
the back. There Mary Jane had to live in great grief and
misery.
Of course, objectively speaking, the little twit deserved
this fate. What could ever have possessed her to inform on
Alanis to the enchantress? Perhaps her mother's drug abuse
during pregnancy explained the child's -- to quote the
clinicians -- "deficits in decision-making skills."
On the same day that she cast out Mary Jane, the
enchantress fastened the rope of hemp to the hook of the
window, and when the king's daughter came and cried, "Mary
Jane, Mary, let down your rope," she let the rope down.
The king's daughter ascended, but instead of finding her
dearest Mary Jane, she found the enchantress, who gazed at
Alanis with wicked and venomous looks.
"Aha," Dame Anmurraya cried mockingly, "you would fetch
your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing
in the nest. The cat has got it, and will scratch out your
eyes as well. Mary Jane is forever lost to you. You will
never see her again."
The king's daughter was beside herself with pain and in
despair she leapt from the tower. She escaped with her life
by landing on a Brahma bull, but its horns pierced her
eyes. She wandered, a blind beggar, about the plain,
lamenting and weeping over the loss of her beloved. She
roamed about in misery for some years, awaiting her cost-
free eye surgery.
As there were no laws enforced against begging in the fair
land, the king's daughter, her hand holding out her crown
inverted, and sympathetic passers-by dropped enough money
into the crown to permit Alanis to buy the donuts and beer
that made life -- just barely -- worth living without Mary
Jane.
The government, taking pity on her, gave her a seeing-eye
dog, whose doleful look allowed her to double her revenues
as a blind beggar, allowing her to switch from beer to ...
SHERRY!
Big Sue groaned and then gave Sherry's ear a sharp twist.
Sherry winced, then continued --
At length, Alanis reached the cultural desert where Mary
Jane lived in wretchedness. Alanis heard a voice, and is
seemed so familiar to her that she went towards it, and
when she approached, Mary Jane recognized her love at once.
Mary Jane rushed towards Alanis, but tripped, falling
forward onto Alanis's neck. The two of them wept -- one
with joy, the other with pain. Two of Mary Jane's tears
wetted the eyes of Alanis and they grew clear again, and
she could see with them as before -- which of course
justified the delay in surgery.
At last, Alanis could find her way back home to the palace,
which had been moved to be close to a golf course owned by
a powerful politician. There, Alanis was joyfully
received, possibly because her parents truly loved her,
sex-change and all, or possibly because they did not want
to be charged with violating the girl's human rights.
A wedding probably occurred, for there were no laws against
it, and Queen Alanis and Princess Mary Jane probably
adopted children of many different hues, and they probably
lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented in
the fair land. This is probably a good place to end the
story, A?
---
Sherry was confident she'd soon be released. After all,
every character in the story was -- or became -- a woman;
and they'd all gone to bed with each other. Big Sue had to
be satisfied. She'd have to let Sherry and Sadie go home
to their angry wives. That would be enough punishment for
them. Or would it?
Was Big Sue about to let Sherry and Sadie leave with their
anal virginity intact? We'll probably never know because
just at that moment the doorbell rang, and then the evening
began to get weird.
END OF PART TWO
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