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The Princesses and the Frog By Charlotte Dickles Author's Note: This story contains adult subject matter. Do not read it if such material is likely to offend you, or it is illegal in your country. Otherwise, please sit back, read and enjoy. 'Mr Hughes, please come in,' Mr Bain said, 'and thank you for coming to see us so promptly.' He could hardly have done otherwise, Steve Hughes reflected, with yesterday's letter from the solicitors Bain, Bain and Bain burning a hole in his pocket; he might learn, the letter had said, 'something to his advantage provided he acted swiftly'. Nevertheless, when he telephoned the solicitors he'd been astonished to be given an early-morning appointment next day; clearly things did need to move fast. He returned Mr Bain's greeting, and they conducted the normal thirty seconds of small talk, prior to getting down to business. 'As I mentioned in my letter,' Mr Bain commenced, 'I need evidence that you are Stephen Frederick Hughes, and that your mother was Charlotte Fredericka Hughes (nee Mansfield). Hopefully you've brought your passport, and your own and your mother's birth certificates...' (he paused and looked for Steve's confirming nod before continuing) '...so I'm going to ask you some questions, and then at the end, should the answers to the questions prove satisfactory, I will take a DNA sample, which will be sent to the laboratory for confirmation. Is that acceptable to you?' Steve said that would be perfectly acceptable, thinking that considerable money must be involved if the client was prepared to go to the expense of a DNA analysis. So, the solicitor examined the documents and then went through a series of questions about both him, and his mother, ranging from the date and place of birth, his parents' marriage and deaths, and finally coming around to everything he knew about his mother's estranged twin sister. 'I know that, like most twins,' Steve said, 'they had been really close. Then, when I was about five or six, they had a bust up and they never spoke again. Later, in the early 1990s, I heard that she'd emigrated to Europe and, as far as I know, she's never returned.' 'Do you know where in Europe she lives?' Steve shook his head. 'No. Even when Mum was alive, we never exchanged even a Christmas card with her. When Mum died last year from breast cancer, I tried to find her to let her know. The only clue I had was that my great-grandmother was supposed to have come from Russia sometime prior to World War I, and she was rumoured to have been a minor royalty before the Revolution. That's why Mum, my grandmother and I all have Frederick or Fredericka in our names. Personally, I think it's all bullshit but I did feel that perhaps Aunt Freddie might have gone there looking for her roots. Unfortunately, all my queries to the Russian Embassy were met with total silence.' 'So your aunt's name was Fredericka, as well?' Steve nodded. 'I suppose so, although we always called her Freddie.' Mr Bain nodded for a few seconds, before saying, 'Well, Mr Hughes, I believe that, rather than you finding your aunt, your aunt has found you. My client is Fredericka Mansfield. I'd like to take a DNA sample to confirm it, and I'll be passing that onto the laboratory, but since time is short, I can't wait for the results before proceeding to the next stage. I need to gain your assurance that everything I now tell you is in strictest confidence.' 'In strictest confidence? Why's that?' Mr Bain smiled. 'I can't answer that until I have your assurance that you will not divulge the answer to anyone else - no one else whatsoever.' Steve shrugged. 'I guess that's OK.' Seeing the solicitor's dissatisfaction with that as a firm statement of intent, he added, 'Yes, I will keep everything you tell me from now on in confidence.' 'And not just what I tell you. You will need to see your aunt, and you will also keep all details of that in confidence.' Steve nodded. Clearly, he wasn't going to learn anything without that commitment. 'I agree.' Mr Bain smiled. 'Excellent. In that case, I can tell you that your aunt lives, not in Russia, but in Molvania.' He withdrew an envelope from his desk drawer. 'Here is a British Airways Club Class Return ticket to Budapest, and the flight is booked for 2 pm this afternoon. You'll be met at Budapest Airport for onward transportation to Molvania. I trust that is satisfactory?' Steve tried to stop his jaw from gaping. 'You're expecting me to fly to Eastern Europe this afternoon. I haven't even packed a toothbrush.' Mr Bain looked at the wall clock. 'You'll have ample time to purchase a toothbrush at Heathrow Airport,' he said. 'As for everything else, I've been advised that you should travel light. Everything you need will be provided in Molvania.' 'But don't I need a visa or paperwork?' 'You have your passport with you,' Mr Bain said, 'and Hungary is in the European Union so you have full EU citizenship rights, there. As for Molvania, I have been assured there will be absolutely no problem with your entry into that country.' 'But...' Steve faltered as he hopelessly tried to grasp the reality of the situation he was faced with. 'Of course,' Mr Bain continued, 'you don't have to travel this afternoon.' Steve gasped at the straw. 'I don't?' 'Of course not. It's entirely up to you when you travel. All I can say is that I have been told that the matter is of the utmost urgency. In my experience, that can mean anything between two extremes: the first is that the client is incredibly impatient and expects everyone else to run around for them; the second is that the client - perhaps a wealthy client - is dying and wishes to see a potential beneficiary prior to remaking a will. As they say, it's your call to decide which it might be. All I can advise is that you really have nothing to lose by acting quickly, and potentially a huge amount to lose if you do not.' *** 'Meester Hug-Heez?' When the door opened to reveal three sexy girls, his heart had immediately filled with joy. He'd had a long journey, commencing with the BA flight to Budapest. Then he'd been met and put as the only passenger onto an extremely elderly, twin-engined aircraft that had seen better days. The interior would have been called luxurious in 1950, when it would clearly have been the top of the range in executive planes. Now, it had all looked extremely dated and rather shabby. But his spirits sank to the dregs of his stomach when he realised that the guide book to Moldavia, which he'd bought at Heathrow and read with great interest all through the flight to Budapest, was of absolutely no relevance whatsoever, since he was going to Molvania! He'd had a long day, he felt stupid, and he didn't know where the hell he was going. From the limited information on the plane - and the only stewardess spoke virtually no English - Molvania was a tiny state, about ten miles long, set in the Carpathian Mountains, which, since the break up of the Soviet Union, had returned to a monarchy. Great! After a two-hour flight, the plane had landed at a darkened airport and he'd been picked up by an elderly Rolls Royce and taken to what looked like a fairy-tale castle, with portcullis and drawbridge, and spires and turrets shooting into the air. The car had driven over the drawbridge and stopped immediately outside the huge iron-studded door, which gave entrance to the castle. The driver made no effort to get out and help him, so Steve got out by himself, walked over to the door and used the gigantic door-knocker to create a sound to wake the dead. Rolls Royces, even quite elderly ones, do not make much noise as they move, so after being deafened by the door-knocker, Steve wasn't even aware that it had departed until he heard the rattling of the portcullis, and looked around to see that the huge iron gate had already fallen into place and the drawbridge was lifting, totally cutting him off from the rest of the world. As a large frog sitting next to the door started croaking, Steve felt the whole situation was rapidly taking on the scenario of a horror movie, except that this was real life, and he was really frightened to face he-did-not-know-what the other side of the door. In fact, he was faced with three pairs of beautifully large tits on display, on teenage girls wearing unfashionable dresses which made them resemble fairy princesses - puffed up sleeves with scooped necklines, narrow waists, then swirling multiple layers of chiffon which swept down to the floor. Their straight, dark-brown hair was cut in a severe fringe at the front, but at the rear it was so long it reached almost to their waists. 'Hughes,' he said, correcting the tallest girl's pronunciation. 'Whose?' the girl repeated, looking puzzled. Then her face broke into laughter as she followed his eye downwards. 'These are *ours*,' she said, thrusting her breasts forward. 'Not belong to anyone else. At least, 'and she made eyes at him and her smile widened, 'not yet.' He couldn't resist another glance downwards in their general direction, and the three girls laughed and obligingly shook their shoulders for him, and their boobs wobbled like jellies. 'Sorry,' he said, unsuccessfully trying not to blush. 'I meant my name is pronounced *Hughes*.' 'Ah, *Hews*,' the second girl said, nodding. 'I am Princess Beatrix. Thees,' she waved at the taller girl, 'is my eldest sister, Princess Angelika, and she,' she indicated the smallest girl, 'is my younger sister, Princess Caterina. Can we call you Steep-hen?' 'Call me Steve,' he said. 'Pleased to meet you.' He was even more pleased when the princesses, in turn, gave him a kiss and a hug, pressing those lovely boobs against him, and giving him an instant hard on. Although, now he'd had a chance to clock them properly, he realised that, apart from their wonderful boobs, the three girls were not what one would call beautiful. Their faces were square-looking, with heavy jaws and foreheads, which their fringes only partly hid. It made it quite difficult to guess their ages, probably about... 'I am of age eighteen years,' Angelika said, guessing his thoughts. 'Seventeen,' Beatrix said. 'Just sixteen,' Caterina said, 'and we are steep kuzan.' At least, that's what Steve thought she said. He was gradually getting used to their heavy Eastern European accents, but steep kuzan was not a term he could grasp. 'Steep kuzan, did you say?' he asked. 'What does that mean?' 'Our father marry your aunt,' Angelika explained. 'Ah!' Steve said. 'Step-cousins.' 'That's what I say,' Caterina said, but further conversation was halted as an inner door to the large ceremonial hall inside the castle was flung open with a crash. The three girls immediately swivelled around to face it, dropped onto one knee, lifted one side of their skirts in a curtsy, and said what Steve guessed was the equivalent of, 'Your Majesty.' Steve felt rather out of place, having had no warning that a real king or queen was in the castle, and since it was not the kind of normal thing which happens to a guy living in Clapham - even when he visited historic castles - he wasn't even certain what he should do. For a moment, he thought that the woman who came through the door was his own mother. A more careful examination made him realise that, simply by the way she carried herself, she was someone with immense presence, much younger-looking than the fifty-five years she must be. Perhaps a fortune spent on beauty treatments had considerably helped. Unfortunately, as soon as she opened her mouth she totally destroyed the illusion. 'Steve, love,' she said, in a deep Cockney accent. 'Your Aunt Freddie is simply dying for a kiss.' *** C-r-o-o-a-a-k,' went the frog, as the man and the three princesses disappeared inside the castle. In frog language, that meant something like, 'If only one of you princesses had kissed me, I would have given you any wish you desired.' But since he wasn't interested in the kisses of middle-aged queens, he turned his back and kept a look out for any passing food - he suddenly felt quite hungry and really fancied a nice, juicy fly. *** 'Molvania is so difficult to get to, and there's so little to see when you do get here, that the marauding armies which periodically swept across this part of Europe, tended to leave us alone,' said Aunt Freddie (or Queen Fredericka as she was officially known). 'But the monarchy was a direct challenge to the Bolsheviks,' she continued. 'When they took control of the region, they arrested every member of our royal family. They said it was for their own protection, but, in fact, they immediately executed them all. Fortunately, my grandmother - your great-grandmother - had been sent to England for schooling, and stayed on in England, hoping to return sometime, but of course, she never did.' Steve and his Aunt Freddie had adjourned to the Royal Chamber, leaving the girls in the main ceremonial hall. The Royal Chamber was a bit of an anti-climax, since the throne was covered in a drape and pushed to one side of the room and they sat in conventional swivel chairs at a boardroom table. Freddie had started to explain how she had got there. 'After the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991,' she continued, 'the Molvanians decided they wished to return to a monarchy, and sent for me, the eldest daughter of the only remaining bloodline of the original Molvanian royal family. I am now Queen Fredericka of the Monarchy of Molvania.' 'Blimey!' Steve said. That not may have been a response covered by normal royal protocol, but somehow, her Cockney accent removed any sense of awe he might otherwise have held her in. Which, he thought, just shows what a prejudiced mind I have! 'But Aunt, how on earth could you suddenly take on the job of being a queen of a state, without a lifetime's training and being brainwashed into thinking that you're better than everyone else?' She smiled. 'I'd already had my training,' she said. 'Prior to that, I'd been Chief Executive on an Inner London council. Now, I have less money to spend and population to manage than I did then. Of course, my job is made a lot easier since we don't have that stupid democracy thing to worry about, here. If I believe something is a good idea, I just do it. We may only be a small country, but Molvania has advanced faster than any other in the region since the fall of the USSR, and I'm certain that's down to me and to the monarchy.' 'And you have a husband and three lovely step-daughters,' he added. 'It's actually *seven* not-so-lovely step-daughters and one not-so-bad step-son,' she replied. 'The others are at our palace in the capital with my husband, Rudi. The sole reason I chose him as a husband was that his children were mostly girls, and I needed a daughter to continue the line. And so far, I'm afraid that Rudi has failed me. I remain a monarch without a heir.' 'Why do you need a daughter rather than a son,' he asked. 'I thought the heir to the throne always went down the male line.' 'Not in Molvania,' his aunt said. 'Between 1762 and 1834, there were a series of disastrous kings - who continually wasted money and lives on war - alternating with excellent queens - who promoted peace and prosperity. From then on, Molvania has only had female monarchs.' She smiled. 'I'm afraid that means that, even if I pop off tomorrow, you, as the sole surviving member of the family, won't inherit the throne.' 'Thank heavens for that,' Steve said. 'I don't think I'm really up to that kind of job.' 'The big problem is that I don't know who will inherit. My failure to bear a daughter is causing a lot of unrest generally and I've been desperate to resolve it. 'A while ago,' she continued, 'I had a miscarriage, and my doctor has told me that was definitely the last baby I can ever conceive.' 'So what,' Steve asked, 'am I doing here?' She smiled again. 'The sixty-four thousand pound question. Have you eaten by the way? I think we could do with a slight break before we continue.' *** 'I need to bear a daughter of royal bloodline,' Aunt Freddie continued, 'but cannot. You Steve, on the other hand, could conceive with one of these girls, a child with a similar mixture of genes as Rudi and I would conceive. It's fortunate that you have inherited our strong family nose,' (a feature Steve had always wished he did not have), 'and they their father's rather ugly face. The five of them had eaten a pleasant meal, which the girls themselves had served. Indeed, it appeared to Steve there were no servants in the castle, a fact he found surprising. He would have thought a royal household would be brimming with them. But the meal had been appetising and tasty, and Steve had enjoyed it. After finishing it, he and Freddie had gone back to the Royal Chamber and continued their discussion. Over dinner, Steve had already worked out which way the conversation would be looming, and had made up his mind. 'You mean,' he said, 'that you want me to marry one of my step-cousins, and quickly father a child. Well I can tell you...' 'No,' Freddie said. 'What?' 'I said no, I don't want you to marry one of these three girls,' Freddie said. 'That would take far too long, and your first child might be a boy. In any case, the population wouldn't be satisfied, since the daughter needs to be mine, rather than that of my nephew, who is not in line to the throne.' 'Well if you don't want me to marry one of these three girls,' he said, 'what am I doing here?' 'I want one of them to bear a daughter I can present as my own,' she said. 'Obviously, the mother will take the role of nursemaid and care for the baby, but the population will believe it is my child, and therefore, the natural heir to the throne. 'So I want you to make these three girls pregnant,' she continued. 'As soon as one of them is carrying a daughter, I will immediately announce to the world that I am pregnant, and start the equivalent of pushing cushions up my blouse - although there are actually far more sophisticated ways of pretending to be pregnant.' 'Don't the girls have any say in this?' Steve asked, horrified that Freddie appeared to be giving them away like common prostitutes. 'After all, they have only just met me. I'm more than thirteen years older than Angelika, and fifteen years older than Caterina.' 'I've spoken to them all and they are agreeable,' Freddie said. 'Your age is immaterial; neither is your appearance nor prospects. What is important is that the first of them to have a daughter by you will be the mother of the future Queen of Molvania. An offer that no sensible woman could refuse.' Steve nodded. He was, he realised, being exceptionally pickity about an offer of sex with three, willing, busty teenagers - and presumably lots of it if they wanted to be the first to conceive. 'I suppose I can understand that, but it certainly seems weird. Still, if they're happy...' 'You will be happy too,' Freddie said. 'Not only will you have unlimited sex with three teenage girls, I will also pay you fifty thousand pounds on the day that I "give birth" to a healthy daughter. Does that make you happy enough?' 'Tell me what I have to do.' 'Most importantly, you agree to keep this matter secret forever. If you ever mutter a word to anyone, even after I'm dead, there'll be people who'll come looking for you. You will live here for the time being. All the servants have been sent elsewhere. All the food will be cooked in my own palace kitchen and then transported here, so no one else will see you; the girls will do what work is needed around the place. But that means there are only the four of you on this site. If the secret leaks out, it's one of you four who will be responsible. Do you understand?' Steve indicated that he did understand. He could keep a secret without the need for threats, but he understood why Freddie felt it necessary to do so. 'Secondly, you'll stay around here until at least two, preferably three of the girls are carrying female foetuses.' 'But what happens if they conceive a male baby?' 'In that case,' Freddie replied, 'their pregnancy will be terminated and you'll do your best to get them pregnant again.' 'Terminated! Will they agree to that?' 'They already have done,' Freddie said. 'Remember, they want to give birth to the next Queen of Molvania. They won't do that if they spend a year bringing a boy into the world.' 'Well what happens if they don't all become pregnant? One of them could be sterile.' Steve didn't want to mention the fact that so might he. 'I want at least two of the girls carrying female babies,' Freddie said, 'so that if one pregnancy goes wrong there's a back up ready for me. Three would be preferable, but obviously, as you suggest, there could be complications. For example, two might become pregnant straightaway, whilst the other takes several months.' 'Several months! You can't expect me to stay here for several months. I thought you were talking about a few weeks.' Freddie smiled. 'The sooner you get them all pregnant, the sooner you can go home, so you'd better put everything you've got into achieving that.' Steve sighed. 'Bloody hell!' 'One last thing. No one must know there's a man in this castle, otherwise someone is sure to smell a rat. Stay out of the way when the deliveries are brought in. The rest of the time, there's no problem as long as you stay indoors; if you want to go outside, remember that much of the grounds can be seen from a distance, or by planes coming into land at the airport. You'll have to put on disguise. The girls will help you to do that.' 'Disguise.' Steve gave her a quizzical look. 'What kind of disguise?' 'Oh for heavens' sake,' Freddie stormed. 'I don't get involved in details. I've told you, the girls will sort you out. Now is there anything else, or are you ready for me to hand over the keys?' She stood up, as a preparation for going back out to the ceremonial hall. 'Keys? What keys?' he said, following her out to the main chamber where the girls were waiting. 'Why,' Freddie said, tossing a key ring with three keys towards him, 'the key to the girls' chastity belts, of course.' 'Yer-hooo!' Caterina yelled at the top of her voice. The other two wasted no time in shouting; they simply pounced on him and started tearing off his clothes. Freddie watched them for a few seconds, smiling, before gracefully leaving by the main entrance. 'Well,' she said to the frog who was still sitting there, 'I'm sewing my seeds in a rather different way to normal, but I think it's all going to work out nicely.' 'C-r-r-r-r-o-o-o-a-a-a-k,' said the frog, which meant, 'You're sailing close to the wind. You'd better watch out.' *** The next three days were like no other that Steve had ever experienced. Sure, he'd occasionally had flings with girlfriends; and once, at university he'd been invited to a party that turned into an orgy. But never had he been to a never-ending orgy. What was remarkable was the carnal knowledge of the girls who had been virgins until now - the chastity belts had ensured that, and Steve had seen the evidence. But Freddie had taken the girls out of school and sent them for several months' instruction by an experienced 'Madame'. Without any real practice at all, they were now Olympic standard sexual athletes! Steve had never considered himself as having incredible staying power, but these girls seemed to have no trouble in making him climax continually, hour after hour, day after day, and night after night; each girl desperate to be the first to get herself pregnant. Until the fourth day! *** Caterina noticed first. She was the one who normally slept between his legs, her head resting on his thigh only inches from his groin. Her task was to awaken him with an erection every few hours, and each of the girls in turn would then service him. But on that fourth morning, no amount of tongue or handiwork, by either her or the others could get him hard. The more they tried, the more ashamed and depressed Steve felt, which in itself made the task almost impossible. Finally, Angelika suggested that Steve patently needed a day off. No man could work continuously without a break, and that's exactly what Steve had been trying to do, she said. Indeed, it was more the girls' fault than his, since they shouldn't have pushed him so incessantly. The other girls agreed. Caterina suggested it would be really fun to go for a picnic in the castle grounds by the stream. Even Steve cheered up at that and the girls contacted the kitchens at Freddie's palace and got them to prepare a picnic lunch. *** 'What have you done with my clothes?' In the frenzy on that first night, Steve couldn't remember what had happened to his clothes. He guessed that one of the girls must have taken them and had them washed, ironed and repaired - he could remember one of the girls tearing several buttons off the front of his shirt - but surely they would have been returned from the palace laundry by now. In the meantime, he'd been wearing Angelika's satin dressing gown on the few occasions when he wasn't naked. 'I burn them,' Beatrix said. 'Burnt them!' he spluttered. 'What the hell for, and what am I going to wear?' 'No man here in castle, you remember? I cannot send man's clothes to be washed and made better at palace. Burning is best way get rid of them. I put on fire.' 'As for what you wear,' Angelika took over the response, 'Queen say you must not be in garden without disguise. You could be seen from aircraft. Yes?' Steve thought back to the spiel he'd been fed that first day. 'Vaguely, yes. But what disguise have you got?' Both the girls smiled. 'Come with us,' Beatrix said. 'We find something perfect for you.' *** 'This is what Queen has ready for when she "become pregnant".' They had gone into the well-equipped medical centre, with its combined delivery/termination room and adjacent three-bedded ward, and then up the narrow spiral stairs into the tower above. There were several small, circular storage rooms - one above the other - with cupboards of medical supplies, racks of bedding and other paraphernalia. Caterina had pulled open a drawer and extracted the garment from one of several similar ones inside. It was a bit like a flesh-coloured leotard, except that there were protruding nipples on the front, which made it look almost like the torso of someone's body. Steve eyed it, suspiciously. 'What is it?' 'Is pregnancy Torsolet,' Beatrix said the unfamiliar words carefully. 'Specially made to same colour of Queen's skin.' 'It fits her like second skin,' Caterina said. 'You think she was naked.' 'So what's the point...' Steve began. 'This is the point,' Angelika said, pulling a length of plastic piping out of the drawer. 'This end,' she held up one end of the pipe, terminating in a small rubber cup, 'fit onto nipple, this end onto tap. Fit to right nipple,' she loosely held it against the nipple on the garment, 'breasts inflate with water. Queen can be any size breast she choose.' 'Put onto left nipple,' Caterina said, and Angelika obligingly moved the rubber cup to the other nipple, 'pouch on stomach inflated.' 'Each week,' Beatrix said, 'she add more water to stomach pouch, and look more pregnant.' 'Fantastic,' Steve said. 'But I thought we'd come up here to find a disguise for me. What else have you got in here? A gardener's uniform, or something like that?' 'Silly man,' Caterina said. 'We show you disguise,' Beatrix said. Steve shook his head, as though someone had just told him something stupid. 'But this is your Queen's pregnancy disguise kit. What do I get?' 'Is alright,' Angelika said. 'She buy several Torsolets at same time so no problem if one is damaged or wear out. You wear this one.' 'But I don't want to look pregnant.' 'We explain that,' Beatrix spluttered, with mounting frustration at Steve's apparent denseness. 'If you connect pipe only to right nipple, only breasts inflate.' 'You mean,' not for the first time that week, Steve was having trouble grasping the situation, 'that you're expecting me to put *that* on and go outside pretending to be a naked woman?' 'Silly man,' Caterina said again. 'Phew, thank heavens for that.' 'You not go in grounds,' Angelika said, 'looking like naked woman - pregnant or not pregnant. We find you dress, and put on make-up. Also we have wig for you.' 'What!' 'You have to look good woman,' Beatrix said. 'Else someone see you from plane and think you a man. They put together two and two.' 'Unless you *are* a man,' Angelika gave a glance down at his limp genitals before continuing, 'and I see you not. You get ready for picnic.' 'Anyway,' Caterina said, 'we think it be fun. Like dressing doll, only with real person. You enjoy too. Yes?' *** It wasn't so much enjoyment, as an incredible sense of exhilaration, that Steve felt as he came out of the shower without a hair on his body. The hair removal cream they'd given him, (made from goats' milk they'd said, but he thought it was probably goats' piss) had been extremely effective. 'Look,' Caterina said, staring at his erection, 'he is cured. We have sex now, yes?' 'No!' Angelika snapped. 'One quick fuck, he go limp. We agree we go for picnic. We do it.' A man shouldn't feel delighted to be denied a quick fuck, but for some reason, he was. 'Curiosity, really,' he muttered to himself. 'What?' Angelika turned, holding the Torsolet in her hands, ready to pull it down over his head. He smiled at her. 'I'm curious what it will be like wearing that, with boobs sticking out, and... well, just simply looking like a woman.' 'He curious as well.' Caterina pointed downwards at Steve's prick, which was now rock solid and pointing at her. 'Hell!' Steve said. 'What are we going to do about that? I'll never get the Torsolet over it.' 'Cunt!' Caterina said. 'It's a perfectly reasonable question,' Steve said, feeling rather wounded. 'No. Caterina mean we have special box.' Beatrix held it up for inspection. It was clearly designed to fit between his legs and contain his genitals. 'When she think up plan, Queen order it specially for you.' 'It give you cunt,' Caterina said with great relish. 'You able have sex with man.' 'No men here' Beatrix said. 'Steve cannot have sex with man.' 'Steve does not want sex with man,' Steve said. 'I'm going to wear it just for disguise, and maybe I'm a bit curious. But there's no way I'm getting into the general proximity of a man, never mind having sex with him.' 'Sex with good man F-A-N-T-A-S-T-C,' Caterina said, rolling her eyes at him. 'You be woman - maybe you enjoy too.' 'Well it's hardly going to be the same, is it?' Steve said. 'That's simply a plastic, er, cunt that fixes between my legs. It won't feel *fantastic* for me.' 'No, no, no, we not explain,' Beatrix said. 'Torsolet has thingy called Sensotouch.' 'Skin of Torsolet like touch-sensitive computer screen,' Angelika said. 'Stroke on Torsolet,' she lightly stroked the skin of the Torsolet, 'passed to many electrodes touching your skin.' 'You feel like it your own skin,' Beatrix said. 'But more sensitive,' Caterina said. 'And cunt is most sensitive of all,' Beatrix said, holding up the false vagina to demonstrate. 'You're all crazy,' Steve said, trying his hardest not to wonder what it would be like with a man's prick thrusting into an artificial cunt stuck between his legs. *** It appeared the instructions that came with the Torsolet were written in Hungarian. Since the girls' first language was Rumanian, Beatrix hesitantly read them whilst the others tried to make sense of what she said. There was an accompanying tub of red gel, which, she said, had to be smeared over Steve's torso prior to putting on the Torsolet, to prevent sweat rashes. So, Angelika put on a disposable plastic glove that came with the tub and smeared the gel all over Steve's torso. It felt incredibly erotic to Steve, and once they had pulled the Torsolet over his head and down his body, it became clear that he had been absolutely right about the difficulties of fitting the Torsolet over his throbbing erection. Consequently, they decided that in spite of their earlier agreement, someone had to be chosen to relieve his tension. Normally, there'd have been a squabble over who was to get first mating rights, but Caterina reckoned the other two always got more than she did, and they didn't challenge it. It was not the greatest of sexual gymnastics, lasting a little over three minutes, but at least Steve knew his equipment was working again, and Caterina got a small dollop of spunk, which if they did but know it, would make Caterina the first of the girls to become pregnant. But Steve's prick had returned to its former floppy state, and he was able to feed it into the hole on the inside of the false vagina without problems. A gusset hung down from the front of the Torsolet, and when Angelika pulled this firmly between his legs, it kept the artificial vagina in place. As she tugged it hard enough to fasten it to the matching bit at the rear, his balls were squeezed into oblivion, bringing water to Steve's eyes. Fortunately, by the time he'd got sufficient breath back to yell, the pain had disappeared and it all felt comfortable again. 'All men like large breasts, yes?' Beatrix said, fitting the one end of the piping to a tap. 'You to?' 'He like large breasts,' Caterina said. 'He love ours.' 'Actually,' Steve confessed, 'I do quite like large breasts, but better not make them too big, eh?' 'Every man need to know what big breasts like for woman,' Angelika said. 'We make breasts HUGE!' '...and see how he enjoy them as woman,' Caterina added. 'No girls, just normal kind of...' His words were lost as they all pounced on him and held him down. Beatrix connected the pipe to the right nipple and turned on the tap, and let it run, and run, and run. Of course, the problem was that with Steve lying on his back, it was quite difficult for them to judge exactly how big his breasts were as they formed shapes like huge bell gongs on his chest. It was not until he tried to sit up with two melons hanging down, they all realised just how big his tits actually were. They whistled and jeered at him in a way that was not dissimilar to the way that, when he'd been at school, a bunch of boys - not Steve, of course - had whistled and jeered at a particularly large-breasted girl. Only now did he realise how embarrassed he - that is, the other boys - had made her. 'OK, very funny. Can you let them down, now? Please?' Beatrix looked at the instructions again, shook her head and pointed at a picture in the instructions. 'No. You see - non-return valve.' She quoted the words carefully, anxious not to get it wrong. 'Pull cup off nipple,' she gave a tug on the pipe and it came free, 'water does not come out.' She was right; Steve's breasts remained melon-sized. 'Sorry, Steve,' Angelika said. 'Your breasts very large. Do not be upset. Only for few hours.' The other girls made similar apologetic noises. 'Well it won't do me any harm to carry these around for the day, and I guess I do deserve it.' 'You not deserve it, Steve,' Beatrix said, thinking that Steve wouldn't feel so magnanimous after he'd carried that colossal weight around for ten minutes. She smiled at him. 'You very nice about our large breasts.' 'Mmm,' he replied, actually still feeling bad about that girl at school. 'To support your breasts,' Angelika said, 'you need good corset. Put on camisole to start.' 'Corset!' Steve said with trepidation, as he obligingly allowed her to feed the cami over his head. He'd read lots of stories on the web about corseted women. 'I don't need a corset.' 'If you put on princess dress,' Caterina said, 'you need corset. Dress not fit properly without corset, and you not look like fairy-tale princess. We all wear corsets.' Steve tried not to gulp when she told him about looking like a fairy-tale princess. It really wasn't normal for a man to find that an incredibly erotic suggestion - was it? A dress, with puffed up sleeves and... 'For picnic, we dress properly,' Beatrix said. 'You must too.' Angelika was already wrapping a corset around his back and fastening the front busks, so it was too late for him to argue about it. But he would make damn certain they didn't tighten it too much. *** 'But I can't breathe,' Stephanie said. 'You still talk, Princess Stevie,' Caterina said. 'For that you must breathe.' 'And I watch your breasts push out the top of your dress,' Beatrix said. 'They inflate like baboons.' 'Balloons,' Stephanie corrected. 'Do not walk quickly, Princess Stevie,' Angelika said. 'Princesses must walk at royal pace. You look better, and you not gasp for breath.' Beatrix and Angelika were carrying the picnic set between them. Steve had offered to do it, but the three girls looked at those enormous boobs and tried to imagine just how much energy it would take simply to climb up the valley side to the point where they intended to have their picnic - where a pretty stream emerged from the woods. Then they had declared that, since Stevie was a visiting princess, they would do all the work and she would be the guest. Stephanie was glad to take Angelika's advice. She had heard of people training with weights in a rucksack, but never with breasts as heavy as dumbbells stuck to their chests. Already, in spite of the supporting corset, her back was aching, and her feet, were throbbing in her tight shoes with two-inch heels - the smallest heel, on the largest-size shoe in the castle. But (and this was an incredibly big but) Princess Stephanie felt absolutely marvellous. The dress she was wearing was simply so beautiful - a peach-coloured chiffon dress over a wide bustle, which swept the ground as she walked. And with each pace, the Sensotouch system allowed her to feel her boobs bouncing in their bra undercups, and her nipples rubbing slightly against the fabric of the dress, and she could feel the soft breeze underneath her skirt, making her bare pussy feel cool, but so very sexy. Even now, she couldn't really understand how she had got into this position. Steve had been having incredible sex with three, very willing, large-boobed teenagers - the kind of situation that every man dreams about. Then of its own free will, Steve's prick had decided it had had enough, and he had willingly gone along with being dressed in this most beautiful of dresses, and walking in the gardens with them. Definitely weird. *** The picnic was great. The sky was bright and the sun was warm. They laid a blanket on the ground, and all four girls laughed and giggled when Stephanie first sat down, and the bustle pushed the front of the dress right up in the air, exposing her stocking tops and bare buttocks and pussy for all the world to see. And it had to be admitted, that since the girls had such a wonderful view of most of Molvania from this elevated vantage point, presumably most of Molvania could also see them! Just as the laughter was about to die out, Angelika pointed across the valley and said, 'All people look with bipolars,' which made them all laugh some more. 'Binoculars,' Stephanie corrected. The girls showed Stephanie how to sit down properly in a bustle, by lifting the dress from the rear before sitting, and gave her a few more tips on princess-like behaviour. The picnic had included a couple of bottles of excellent wine, and they had to finish those off, simply so that Stephanie could learn to hold the glass correctly! It was just as they were finishing their meal that Angelika said, in a very small voice, 'I think my period comes.' 'Oh, Angelika, you poor kitten,' Beatrix said. 'You pregnant next time,' Caterina said. 'There'll be lots more opportunity for us to make babies,' Stephanie said. The three of them rallied around and offered support and comfort. After a few minutes, Angelika said she would go back to the castle and lie down for a while. 'We go for stroll in the woods?' Beatrix said, as soon as Angelika had gone out of earshot. 'On this part of hillside, like in shop window. Nice and secluded in woods.' 'Yes,' Caterina agreed. 'I ready for us be secluded.' So they got up and followed the path into the woods. After they'd gone only a few yards, Caterina said, 'We secluded now. No need go further.' She pointed at a bench by the side of the path. 'We sit here, yes? Stevie, you in the middle. We sit either side.' They followed her suggestion. 'I think Angelika mean,' Beatrix said, 'to say no sex all day.' 'She knew period coming,' Caterina said. 'She want to stop us while she not fertile. I think we should take opportunity.' She was not to know that her opportunity had already been well and truly taken. 'But Stevie most important person,' Beatrix said. 'Stevie, you ready for sex?' In fact, Stephanie had been feeling ready for it all through lunch. Every time she'd reached for a sandwich, her nipples had moved against the fabric of her dress, and given her a feeling that was so squiffy, she thought she might have a climax on the spot. 'Well, yes. But I'm a woman at the moment. Much as I'd like to...' Stephanie's words died on her lips as the other two slipped her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, and eased it over her enormous breasts. When she'd been dressed this morning, there was clearly no corset in the castle into which her oversize breasts would fit, so Angelika had selected one with a simple undercup platform on which they could rest. With her dress lowered, those two enormities were exposed to the fresh air. So wonderful was the Sensotouch feature, that Stephanie could feel the breeze upon her nipples. But not for long. With perfect synchronism, Beatrix and Caterina lowered their mouths to her nipples and sucked. 'Jeez!' Stephanie gasped. 'That's just... A-a-a-h!' 'Nipples of Stevie very sensitive,' Caterina said, coming up for a breath. 'Much more than my nipples.' 'Can vary Sensotouch,' Beatrix said, as she, too, came up for air. 'I set very high.' 'Oh my God!' Stephanie, too, had to gasp a mouthful of air. 'That's the most exquisite...' Her words were cut off as Beatrix and Caterina ducked their heads down to their task again. Never before had she been on the verge of an orgasm for more than a few seconds. Now the experience went on and on, for minute after precious minute. 'Cunt also important,' Beatrix said. 'You agree, Caterina?' They lifted her skirt up over the hoops of the crinoline so that Stephanie could just see the unfamiliar shape of a hairless slit between her legs. Beatrix reached down and slipped a finger inside her cunt. 'Oooh!' Stephanie said. 'There is way,' Beatrix said, as she fiddled around, 'to let bud poke out... There!' She withdrew her hand so they could all see what was happening. Stephanie could feel movement between her legs - the kind of movement that no girl normally feels. As they all stared at her slit, so the tiny bud of her clitoris appeared. It grew larger as they stared at it - and larger, and started to emerge from its hiding point. It became the size of Stephanie's thumb, and still it steadily grew until it was not dissimilar to the shaftless head of a man's penis. Finally, it grew no more. 'It's stuck,' Stephanie said in despair. 'How do we get it completely out?' 'I sorry, Stevie,' Beatrix said. 'With this Torsolet, it make larger no more. No worry, is plenty for us.' She stood up, swivelled round to face Stephanie, and then lifted her own skirts to the waist and sat astride Stephanie's lap. With the two sets of skirts and hoops, further observation of their mutual point of interest was impossible. 'Caterina,' Beatrix said, 'Get on knees and look. You guide us come together.' Caterina did so, crouching between Stephanie's legs - practically beneath Beatrix's buttocks - and gave instructions. 'Stevie, open wide the legs. More wide. That is right. Beatrix, fall down between legs of Stevie. Stevie, more wide. No, Beatrix, push close to Stevie. More close.' 'Yes! Go on,' Beatrix said. Caterina put a hand onto Beatrix's bum and gave a helpful push, to press the two bodies together. 'That's it,' Beatrix shouted. 'Push harder. Harder.' Stephanie could feel her clitoris starting to penetrate Beatrix, but nothing like far enough for proper sex. She thrust her pelvis forward. 'Harder,' Beatrix shouted. 'Harder.' Caterina got off her knees, put both her hands onto Beatrix's bum and pushed as hard as she could. She shuffled her feet backwards, so she was leaning her entire weight against Beatrix, and thrust with all her might. 'Go on, Stevie,' Beatrix screamed. 'Push!' Stephanie did, and she felt her clitoris pop between Beatrix's outer lips, but, she realised, she was never going to penetrate Beatrix properly whilst wearing the Torsolet. So near, yet so far! She felt despair creeping upon her. 'Stevie, harder,' Caterina yelled. Of course, Stephanie thought, I'm thinking about this as a man. Now I'm a woman, I don't need to penetrate Beatrix, only to rub my clitoris against Beatrix's clitoris, until we reach mutually satisfactory orgasms. She moved her body so that, instead of trying to push her clitoris inside Beatrix's vagina, she was simply bringing her clitoris into contact with Beatrix's. 'Oh! Y-e-e-s!' Beatrix shouted. 'Oh, that is fucking good. Oh, my orgasm is coming! Oh yes. Y-e-e-e-s! Oh fuck me!' With those final words, Stephanie felt an explosion happening somewhere deep inside herself, which came surging outwards, through the only outlet open, pumping buckets of semen (did girls have semen, Stephanie wondered) into Beatrix's cunt. 'Y-e-e-e-s-s!' Stephanie gasped 'Y-e-e-e-s-s!' Beatrix screamed. 'Y-e-e-e-s-s!' thought that tiny spermatozoa spurting into Beatrix's vagina, and racing against all the others to be the first to the prize - the only prize that mattered. And it was! *** It was almost four o'clock before they awoke from a slumber, returned to the picnic area, packed up their things and went back to the castle. It was fortunate they didn't leave it any later, for just as they were entering the castle courtyard, and Stephanie was saying hello to the frog - much to the amusement of the other girls - the drawbridge lowered, the portcullis lifted and the royal Rolls Royce swept in. Angelika came out of the castle to greet the Queen, as they approached the door. She curtsied, and the two spoke together before they both turned to watch the princesses walk over to them. The three girls curtsied - one a little clumsily, and Angelika said, 'Your Majesty. Allow me to present Princess Stephanie.' The smile on Freddie's face froze and hostility flashed across her face. 'How dare you! You must all be drunk!' She stared hard at Stephanie and said, 'You! I want to speak to you now.' 'Yes your Majesty.' For the first time, Steve (definitely not Stephanie) had not referred to her as his Aunt Freddie. *** 'So, you're not as ignorant as you made out, are you?' Steve (and definitely not Stephanie) didn't know what she was talking about, but he had recovered his composure in the half minute it had taken to walk into the Royal Chamber. 'I'm sorry?' This time he didn't call her Majesty, but he felt it definitely unwise to call her Aunt Freddie. 'I don't know why you're cross with me.' 'So why did Angelika call you Princess Stephanie?' 'But Aunt... Your Majesty, it was you who instructed me to wear disguise if I went into the castle grounds. You knew I would have to dress as a woman.' 'I'm not talking about your dress, or those ridiculous breasts, but why did you call yourself that name?' Steve couldn't work out what she was getting at. 'The girls said it would sound silly, continuing to call me Steve or Stephen. Stephanie was the female equivalent.' 'Oh!' She sounded surprised, but then added, with extremely bad grace, 'Yes, I suppose I should have thought of that.' She paused for a few more seconds, thinking, and then said, 'I suppose I had better explain. But remember, I have never told anyone else in Molvania about this, so if it leaks out, you're the one I shall blame.' She said the words with such an evil grimace that Steve felt a shudder pass down his spine. *** 'Your mother Charlotte and I met your father at university, and we both fell for him in a big way. It was the late sixties, and free love was everywhere, so what was more natural than that twins should share the man they both love. We continued the open relationship for a few years after we left university, until Charlotte got pregnant. 'She insisted upon marriage, and both your father and I were happy about that, assuming that it wouldn't change our threesome relationship. It did. Charlotte wanted monogamy, and made things so difficult that eventually I moved out.' She gave a shrug. 'I didn't see why your mother should have sole rights to your father simply because she was careless enough to get pregnant. So we started an affair that went on for another five years or so, until I, too, became pregnant. When Charlotte discovered who the father was she blew her top. We had an argument that we never made up. I moved away for a few years and made a new life with my baby daughter, who I named Stephanie.' 'Oh!' The silence between them lengthened. She had clearly said on their first meeting that she needed a daughter to inherit her reign, and Steve was frightened to ask the obvious question. 'Stephanie died of cot death when she was only three months old.' 'Oh Aunt, I'm so sorry.' In spite of her previous hostility, Steve felt impelled to go over to her and give her a hug. 'I simply never realised.' 'Of course you didn't, but when Angelika introduced you as Princess Stephanie I thought your mother must have told you about her, and you were making a game of pretending to be her. I made a wrong assumption, when I should have remembered that both Charlotte and I named our children after the same father.' She looked at her watch. 'The others will be wondering what's going on. Let's go back to them, and,' she gave an evil scowl, 'don't mention what I've just told you, or else.' Steve nodded. He *could* keep a secret without threats, but a threat from Freddie certainly concentrated the mind. *** 'Incidentally,' Freddie asked him as they were re-entering the main chamber, 'Why do you have such ridiculously large breasts. Don't they make your shoulders ache terrible.' 'It's absolute hell,' Steve said. 'Then why did you inflate them so large?' 'It was our fault, your Majesty,' Angelika said, coming into the conversation. 'We make the fool of Steve. We make the breasts big. Then we could not let them down.' Freddie turned on Steve. 'Didn't you read the instruction manual?' 'Hardly,' Steve said. 'It was written in Hungarian, so I left it to Beatrix.' Freddie sniggered, rather cruelly Steve thought. 'Beatrix is hardly a master of Hungarian. In any case, there are only a few basic, very badly translated paragraphs in Hungarian. If you'd bothered to look in the next drawer along, you'd have found the full instruction manual in English. That tells you precisely how to reduce the size of the breasts. It's quite easy.' So easy, her tone dismissive tone implied, that even an imbecile like Steve could do it. 'You're kidding me!' Freddie irately shook her head. 'I'm not in the habit of kidding anyone. The Torsolet comes from an English company, and their manual is excellent, so it's a pity you didn't bother to read it. Anyway, I suppose there's no harm done, just as long as you didn't use the gel.' There was a moment of silence, which stretched into several seconds. Freddie looked at them all, shocked incredulity on her face. 'You didn't use the gel, did you?' 'Aunt, it said something in the manual about preventing sweat rashes,' Steve said. 'Oh you stupid imbeciles. Don't you realise what you've done? Yes, you're right, Steve, it does prevent sweat rashes. But it does so by bonding the Torsolet to the skin and sealing the sweat glands. You're stuck in that thing now for the best part of two weeks. You have completely blown the whole project.' 'No,' Beatrix said. 'We have sex in woods, no problem.' Freddie looked to Steve for confirmation. 'Is that right, Steve?' Steve wouldn't exactly have described their sexual union as no problem, but given the look on Freddie's face, he thought it best not to admit it. 'Sure,' he said. 'The three of us had sex in the woods after Angelika left us. It was great.' Freddie still looked suspicious, but fortunately she decided not to challenge them further, and instead changed the subject. 'I shall be going away next week to Brussels. I'm meeting with the European Parliament.' 'That sounds very impressive aunt,' Steve said, trying to lighten the tension. She turned to Beatrix and Caterina, and said, 'Your periods should start Monday, is that right? ' They both nodded. 'Well, I'm not leaving until Wednesday,' she said, 'so we should know one way or another by then. I'm hoping I shall be able to make an announcement about my pregnancy to the European Parliament.' Beatrix and Caterina both nodded warily, probably not following her English. Stephanie thought it highly probable the parliament would not be overly interested in the monarch of a non-EU state, but thought it diplomatic not to voice his opinion. 'It was bad luck about your period this time, Angelika,' Freddie said in a sudden mood of magnanimity, and then spoilt it by adding, 'so you'd better try a damn lot harder next month.' Angelika smiled and quietly said, 'Thank you, your Majesty.' *** 'Wow,' Stephanie said as soon as the Queen had left. 'What rattled her cage?' 'She angry my period come,' Angelika said. 'Angelika, you know. She always angry like that,' Beatrix said. She turned to Stephanie. 'How you see her last week, all smile and she talk funny English...' 'You mean Cockney?' Stephanie asked. 'Yes, that is it,' Beatrix said. 'She talk funny to make friendly with you. She never smile.' 'She evil witch,' Caterina said. 'Then why did you agree to give her a daughter?' Stephanie asked. The three exchanged glances, and Angelika said something in their own language, then she turned to Stephanie. 'Queen say she lose baby because my father give her bad seed. He guilty of treason. If we not do as she says, he will be head chopped. She take all his money and our house. We have nowhere to go.' 'That is evil,' Stephanie said. 'I can't go ahead with this knowing that. I'll tell her...' Beatrix interrupted. 'She said, even if no babies with you, we still use training in brothel. We earn money with men on streets to buy food for whole family. She very evil.' 'We hope that our babies be like you, Stevie,' Caterina said, 'not like her. We have lovely babies if like you.' Stephanie looked at the three of them, sickened at the position they had been put in by her mother's twin sister. 'Then we better make more babies,' she said. *** Stephanie managed to find the instructions for the Torsolet written in English, and studied them at length. Freddie had been perfectly correct in saying that the gel was a powerful adhesive that was permanently bonded to the skin, and it would only come off when the outer layer of skin was shed. The really bad news was that although some versions of the Torsolet were designed for male cross dressers, and the penis could fully emerge to serve its proper purpose, the pregnancy version clearly was not, and Stephanie had been lucky to be able to take things as far as she had. She did, however, manage to reduce her breast size, although the girls insisted that since she was quite large for a woman, she should have boobs to match. Which meant that she still ended up with boobs far larger than she thought necessary, but she gave in with good grace. After all, she only had breasts for a few weeks - the girls had them for life. In fact, sex in the Torsolet proved to be so problematical that after a few attempts they decided to cut out the intercourse, and simply milk Stephanie for her semen. Each girl went to work on a breast or clitoris, frantically licking until Stephanie squirted her semen into a small bowl. The girls carefully divided it between them, and then they improvised the final operation with a piece of plastic tubing. Each sucked up the semen from the bowl into the tube (taking care not to suck too hard!) and then inserted the tube deep inside them, and gently blew it out. The whole operation worked out rather well, so that was the way their sexual relations continued for the next few days. Stephanie felt she should have been upset at failing to have proper sex with the girls, but for some reason she felt perfectly happy that they were able to take her milk and use it. As Monday approached - the day that Beatrix and Caterina were both due to start their periods - everyone was in a state of nervousness. To their absolute delight nothing happened, and as the day wore on, nothing continued to happen! Tuesday morning, Freddie arrived. As soon as she heard their news, she was on top of the world. Her previous bad mood might never have been there. She immediately went back to the palace and returned an hour later with the royal doctor. A few minutes with each, and he confirmed that Beatrix and Caterina were both pregnant! However, he would need to take samples and send them to the laboratory for pregnancy sex testing. First thing next morning, Freddie arrived clutching a champagne bottle, and proclaiming that Beatrix had a female foetus inside her! She pushed the champagne bottle into Angelika's hands, and told her to open it and get pouring - none for Beatrix of course - clearly she had to be thoroughly cosseted from now on. 'What about Caterina, Aunt?' Stephanie asked. 'Have you had her results?' 'Oh, yes,' she said, in the same sort of tone she might have used to discuss the weather. 'Caterina has a male foetus. The doctor will come around this afternoon to perform the abortion.' 'Don't cry, child,' she added, as Caterina burst into tears. 'This will only put you out of the running for a few weeks. And you never know your luck, Beatrix's daughter could easily be miscarried or deformed, so there's still hope for you and Angelika to win the race. It's an ill wind, as they say... Beatrix, Why on earth are you crying, now? You're pregnant with a female, for God's sake.' She simply could not understand why no one wanted champagne on such a joyful occasion, and no one felt able to try to explain. 'Well if you're not going to open that champagne, Angelika, give it back to me,' she eventually said. 'I'm flying to Brussels this morning, so I might as well celebrate by myself, rather than with you miserable lot. I really don't understand any of you.' And she stormed outside. She took the driver by surprise, and he had to hurry round to open her door for her. 'For God's sake, get a move on. We can go straight to the airport, now.' Unfortunately, the driver didn't understand English, so she had to repeat it in Rumanian, which annoyed her even more. 'C-r-r-r-o-o-a-a-k,' went the frog. 'And fuck you,' Freddie said, stamping on it. Actually, she stamped on the spot where it had been sitting an instant before. Fortunately, frogs have lightning reactions, and a moment before her foot reached the ground, it had leapt forward two feet. Freddie could have swore the thing croaked, 'And fuck you too,' but that may have been her imagination. Actually, that was exactly what the frog had said, and for a few seconds it felt extremely mean towards Freddie, queen or no queen. But it wasn't a malevolent frog, and knowing the power that frog wishes have, it decided it really ought to recant that wish. It was just on the point of doing so, when the car moved, and the frog was sandwiched between three tons of armoured Rolls Royce and the granite slabs of the courtyard. Some day perhaps, a frog will survive such a situation, and it will be able to tell all the other frogs, 'Whatever you do, don't take cover underneath a car, particularly next to those large, round, black things which keep the car off the ground.' Unfortunately for Freddie, that message had not yet been transmitted, and the frog died before it could retract its deadly wish. *** Three days later, things were starting to return to a kind of normality - although quite different to what it had been before. Only Angelika was now milking Stephanie, as Caterina had aborted her baby and the doctor had told her to avoid becoming pregnant for a few weeks. Privately, she decided to give it a week and then get going again! They all agreed that the really good thing about those few days was that with Freddie in Brussels, they could relax, and not worry about her pouncing in on them. So they were all totally gob smacked when the entrance door suddenly crashed open one evening and a young man walked in - about sixteen or seventeen years old, Stephanie guessed. He greeted the girls in Rumanian, then turned to stare at Stephanie, and added something, to which the girls replied. 'This, our brother, Andrei,' Angelika explained to Stephanie. 'He has important news of family.' 'Hello Andrei,' Stephanie said, nodding at him. 'In that case, I'll leave you to talk alone.' 'No,' Angelika said. 'He say you stay.' 'OK.' Stephanie said, thinking that it was all the same to her since she wouldn't understand a word of their Rumanian conversation. Andrei smiled at her in a pleasant way, no doubt, Stephanie thought, ogling her boobs. She was wrong about not picking anything up. With the boy's first sentence, the girls all gasped in horror, clasped their hands to their mouths, and then looked at each other, and particularly at Beatrix, who appeared as though she was about to burst into tears. 'Queen go to special doctor in London,' Angelika told Stephanie. 'He tell her she have the cancer of the boob. She very bad. She not live long.' 'Oh my God!' Stephanie said. It was not just the shock of losing an aunt whom she'd only just been reunited with, but it meant their entire plan would have to be abandoned, leaving Beatrix pregnant with his, Steve's, child. 'Why she wait to see doctor in London?' Caterina asked. 'We have good doctors in Molvania. They would find cancer months ago.' 'What about my...' Beatrix's wail was sharply interrupted by Angelika. 'Do not say the word. We talk later about it.' She was right. The boy probably knew a few words of English, and 'baby' might well be one of them - a word which should have no part in their current discussion. 'What is Aunt...' Stephanie stopped herself just in time. That was another word which should not be used alongside the next word she had been going to say. 'What is the Queen doing now? Is she staying in Brussels for her talk to the EU?' Caterina asked the question of the boy, and gave Stephanie his answer. 'No, she return home now. She must give news to people.' The boy added something, and Caterina translated, 'Andrei needs to see you in private. He has message from Queen.' 'Well he's going to have difficulty giving me a message,' Stephanie said, 'when he can't speak a word of English.' Beatrix translated again. 'He says, message written. A private message.' 'OK,' Stephanie said. 'I suppose we'd better go into the Royal Chamber.' Beatrix translated and the boy gave a little grimace - as though nervous of what he had to do - rapidly walked over to the door to the Royal Chamber, opened it, and then stepped back with a smile, a bow and a sweep of his arm, to indicate that Stephanie should precede him. Stephanie was surprised. She wasn't used to having men opening doors for her - indeed, neither were most women in Britain, particularly by sixteen-year-old boys. She realised that being a woman in Molvania had certain advantages she hadn't thought of before. She smiled