Modern Fairy Tales Ch. 02

Meg appeared to clear away the plates with a chuckle. "You two have quite the appetite," she commented. "Don't tell me you've run away from home."

The twins exchanged quick glances, conveying volumes in the space of a heartbeat. Finally, Hansel looked back to the attractively mature woman. "More like, home ran 'way from us," he said sourly.

Meg's smile faded a moment, then returned. "Well, I'll tell you what," she said, leaning slightly, affording the young man before her a more than ample view of her considerable cleavage. "In the spirit of humanitarianism, dessert's on me." She pushed away abruptly, reaching for one of the pantry cases a few paces away.

"Why'd ya tell 'er that?" asked Gretel in a harsh whisper, glaring at her brother. "An' stop starin' at her butt like that!"

Hansel blinked, tearing his glimpse away. "I wasn't starin'!"

"You were so!"

"Here you are, little ones," Meg chirped, setting two pieces of pecan pie before the twins, along with fresh forks. "Eat up. You'll need your stamina, I'm sure."

Hansel smiled back, thinking what a sexy implication Meg's words had carried. Mindful of his sister, however, he forced himself to look down, digging into the slice of pie before him even as he imagined savoring a different kind of 'pie' altogether.

"You're disgusting," whispered Gretel disapprovingly. "She's as old as Mother!"

Hansel frowned, chewing a piece of pie. He cast an annoyed glance to his twin. Ya just had t' say that, didn't ya?

As the twins ate in silence, the door opened with a ringing chime. A broad-shouldered man, somewhat thick in the middle yet impressively built, stepped through the door, clad in a sheriff's uniform. His sneering look fell immediately upon Meg, catching her just as she was bending over at the waist to retrieve a packet of fresh grounds for the coffee machine.

"Evening, honey-cheeks," he called out.

Meg straightened and turned with a frown, regarding the man who now approached her counter. "Is it already that time of the month?" she asked wearily.

The marshal grinned, sliding onto a stool. "Time flies, hey, honey?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, as it happens, Fred, it's that time of the month for me, too," she quipped. "If you know what I mean."

Fred chuckled. "Don't bother me none," he returned with a lewd wink. "I earned my red wings a long, long time ago."

The proud woman huffed. "I still have customers," she said, nodding toward the twins. All but a lone trucker, settled in a booth with the day's paper, had left for the evening.

Fred pursed his lips smugly, drumming thick fingers upon the counter. "Then I guess I'll have some coffee while I wait."

A perturbed sigh rolled off Meg's lips. Without another word, she turned, took up a coffee cup, and poured Fred's coffee. She brushed away after leaving the man to his beverage, and approached the twins. The sweet smile that decorated her dark pink lips was forced.

"Looks like I'm closing early tonight," she said. "How are you two paying?"

The twins swallowed their last bites of pie with matching, nervous gulps, staring at Meg. The matron breathed out, shoulders falling as she understood.

"I should have known," she said, then smiled slyly, eyes narrowing. "Well, as it happens, I could use a little help cleaning up the place."

Hansel and Gretel regarded one another questioningly, considering the restaurant owner's offer.

Meg leaned close to the twins, again showing cleavage which captivated Hansel, and spoke in a low, foreboding tone. "You don't really want to run on a check when the sheriff is here, do you? That wouldn't be very smart. Besides . . . you'd be helping me out. I'll let you two stay the night, and . . . give you some breakfast in the morning. How's that?"

The twins exchanged a quick look. "Ya got a deal," said Gretel.

Meg smiled sweetly, straightening. "Then why don't you two come around the back?"

With nods and the slightest of smiles, Hansel and Gretel slipped from their seats and walked along the lustrous counter toward the stainless steel door. The sheriff watched, following Gretel's delectable form with his eyes.

"Taking in more strays, Meg?"

Meg shot him a look before pushing the door open for her new charges. "You just stay where you are, Fred. We'll conduct 'business' in a minute." She raised her voice addressing the trucker who sat in the booth. "Hey! Loomis! Closing time!"

***

The kitchen was spacious, larger than any either of the twins had ever seen. It looked to them like an assembly line for food, with stainless still prep tables and glass-front coolers stocked with all manner of foodstuffs. The most dominating feature was an enormous baking oven, a heavy, slitted grill giving glimpses of the roaring fire within. Hansel and Gretel had never seen so immense an oven in their life. It was as large as Mother's station wagon, they figured.

"Follow me, kids," Meg said cheerily, striding purposefully around the equipment, toward a door in the back. She pushed it open, flicking on a light, revealing a row of empty metal cages on one side of the room, and metal shelving crammed with various dried goods. Timidly, the twins entered the room, whereupon Meg swiftly closed the door, twisting a key in the lock.

The convivial smile was gone, replaced in an instant with a feral countenance. "You little thieves!" screeched the woman, her once beautiful face abruptly transformed into one of hideous ugliness. Teeth as jagged as an old wolf's were bared as blood-red lips parted, stretching skin that looked like sun-baked leather. Eyes like embers burned in their sockets.

Hansel and Gretel yelped in fear, stumbling back, away from the twisted crone Meg had suddenly become. They grunted in unison when their backs fell hard against the metal cages.

"You thought you could come into my house, eat my food, and not pay for it?" roared the witch. Her hands --beautifully manicured before but now as threatening as talons -- shot out to wrap around the twins' throats. She jerked Hansel and Gretel close, breathing acridly upon their faces. "You thought wrong, little ones. You will most certainly pay."

With a quick nod of the witch's head, one of the cages inexplicably sprang open with a screech of hinges and a clamoring of metal. Strength unlike anything a human being could possess hurled Hansel inside, where he fell with a cry of pain. The cage slammed closed, sealing him within.

"What'ya gonna do t' him?" cried Gretel, struggling vainly against Meg's grip.

"You worry about yourself, girl," snapped Meg, glaring upon the older of the two. The nostrils of her beakish nose flared slightly as she sniffed. "No sweet smell of purity on you. That's good. But your brother . . . ." she trailed off, dragging Gretel beside he and approaching the cage in which Hansel now stood, gripping the bars.

The witch inhaled deeply, an evil grin stretching her lips. "Yes. A virgin male. Perfect."

Hansel trembled, though he struggled to hide his fear. His eyes found his sister's. Try t' be strong, Greta.

Gretel whimpered, still attempting to pull the witch's claw from her throat. I'll try . . . .

"Now, you just sit tight, my sweet boy," Meg cooed menacingly. "I have a little project for your sister."

Hansel's fear and anger flared as Meg dragged a squirming Gretel to the door. "Ya leave m' sister 'lone!" he cried. "Don't'ya hurt m' sister!"

The witch responded with a chilling cackle, opening the door and spiriting Gretel away. The door slammed shut swiftly, as if shoved from behind.

"Greta! GRETA!"

***

The witch's grip shifted from Gretel's neck to the girl's arm as Meg pulled the girl toward another door. Gretel cried out for help several times, screaming at the top of her lungs in the hope that Sheriff Fred would hear her. The witch slapped Gretel hard across the face, sending her sprawling into what appeared to be a bathroom.

"Don't waste your breath, you little backwoods bitch," she growled. "I've magicked this entire building so that no sound escapes from one room to the next. Now, get those dirty clothes off!"

Gretel sat up on the floor, touching her split lip and glaring in terror at the witch. "Wh-what?"

"Strip, girl!" commanded Meg, hulking like an ogre in the doorway. "I want every stitch of clothing off that skinny little body! Do it!"

Amid trembling whimpers and fumbling fingers, Gretel scrambled to her feet, hastily removing her shirt and shorts and everything else she wore before Meg's impatient gaze. Shamefully, she stood nude before her captor, self-consciously covering her privates.

"Put your hands at your sides, girl," ordered the witch, approaching the quivering girl. "I need to get a good look at you."

Eyes squeezed shut, Gretel did as she was told, wincing and flinching when she felt the dry, bark-like hands of the witch touching her breasts, her thighs, even the plump mound of lightly-furred flesh above her sex. Gretel caught her breath when she felt a twig-like finger slide against her labia, pushing in slightly.

"Not exactly his type," commented Meg, sniffing her finger. "But you're fresh and young. He should be happy with you."

Gretel opened her eyes fearfully. "Wh-wh-what ya talkin' 'bout?"

The witch sneered. "Tell me, girl, are you willing to do whatever it takes to keep you and your brother safe from harm?"

Gretel rubbed her shoulders, not knowing what the witch was getting at, but knowing whatever it was, she wasn't going to like it. "M-maybe . . . ."

Meg cackled. "Sure you will," she said patronizingly. "You'll do whatever I tell you, girl, because if you don't, then your brother starts to lose weight one finger at a time."

Gretel gasped, eyes wide and shimmering in terror. "No! Please! Don't hurt Han!"

"Then you do what I say." Meg indicated the sink and the small, stand-up shower behind Gretel. "Now, get yourself cleaned up. You may be young and fresh, but you stink like a barnyard dog. Fred may be pig, but I'm sure he draws the line somewhere."

Gretel blinked in surprise. What? Does she mean I'm gonna have'ta screw that sheriff?

The witch chuckled darkly. "Oh, don't try to play innocent. At least one little badger's played around in your cave. And it could be worse. He could be ugly."

"B-but . . . why?" Gretel asked.

Meg sighed, hands on her hips. "Because, when he first became sheriff, some ten years ago, he decided he had to do safety inspections of all the businesses in the county. Well, I don't like people snooping around back here, so . . . I made him a deal. And he's been taking advantage of that deal every month since."

"S-so . . . if ya been makin' it with him for ten years . . . ."

Meg sneered, gesturing casually. The clothes upon the floor flew into her hand, startling Gretel. "Maybe I just don't feel like it. Besides . . . It'll be interesting to see what he does with a young kitty like you. Now, get yourself cleaned up."

The door closed, leaving a bewildered and intimidated Gretel to the task of freshening up. She had to be honest with herself; she was grateful for the opportunity to wash off the sweat and dirt that clung to her skin like oil. Despite the reason for which Meg wanted her clean, Gretel was grateful.

The shower helped immensely to calm her anxiety. The reality of hers and her brother's confinement sunk in to the point where Gretel began thinking of ways to both placate the witch and find a way to escape. Gretel did not doubt that the witch would do all manner of unspeakable things to Hansel if Gretel did not obey. Gretel decided, as she brushed out her hair and stared at her reflection, that until the witch's plans were known, she would do whatever Meg demanded of her.

Includin' boffin' Fred th' sheriff, she thought heavily. Gretel took a deep breath, looking into her own eyes. Well, if I gotta do it, I might as well make th' most o' it . . . .

Skittishly, Gretel opened the bathroom door, peering out. Although she was naked, the lack of Meg's presence gave the girl a moment's hope of running to Hansel's prison and somehow finding a way out through the back of the restaurant. Naked and free was better than naked and trapped, after all.

"Why, don't you clean up well."

Gretel gasped at the sound of Meg's 'sweet' voice, and turned to see the woman as she had appeared when the twins first entered the diner; pretty, busty, her blue dress straining at the buttons, long, perfectly coifed red hair trailing behind a friendly, motherly face.

"Well, come on, you don't want to keep the man waiting," Meg urged the girl.

Gretel's heart hammered, yet she maintained her poise, walking upright and with as much confidence as she could muster. Maybe he'll be quick, like Cooper always was, she thought hopefully. Just so long as he don't wanna stick it in th' back door, I'll be okay . . . .

Meg held the stainless steel door open for Gretel, who hesitated in the doorway. Even though everyone else in the diner was gone, all the lights were still up, and the world outside was dark. Anyone driving by would be able to see easily inside the place. And here Gretel was, naked as the truth during Sunday mass, about to let a perfect stranger ravage her.

"Go on," cooed Meg, her voice so sugary it was nearly sickening. The witch's lips practically brushed Gretel's. "Go on and give that man a good . . . hard . . . fucking."

Gretel's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had only ever known two men in her life -- Cooper Barnes, her first love, and the town mechanic, Ethan (though no one knew about that, and it had only happened twice) -- and was not all that sure of herself when it came to sex. Certainly, she had never 'fucked' a man before! And in such a public place, with all the lights on, no less!

Carried on quivering legs, Gretel stepped into the diner, staring at Sheriff Fred as he sat at the counter, sipping his coffee. He was a big, muscular brute of a man, yet with a hometown boy's friendly and handsome face. Gretel was glad for that, at least. Her immediate impression was that the sheriff was, essentially, a nice man. Maybe this won't be so bad after all, Gretel thought.

Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Fred turned his head to look, immediately arching a brow in surprise and wonder. The naked girl approached him, stopping a good five or six paces away. Behind her stood Meg, hands held together over her apron.

"So this's what you meant by 'a pleasant surprise?'" Fred asked of the older woman, before his eyes returned to Gretel's slender, youthful body. He gazed with undisguised interest upon the young woman's firm, upturned breasts, her slender legs and small patch of dark pubic hair.

"I thought you might like to try a different dish," Meg said with a wink. "Go on, Greta. Make nice with the man."

Gretel took a deep breath, nervousness churning in her stomach like an opossum running chaotically around inside her. She reminded herself of why she was doing this: 'Cause if I don't, that witch is gonna hurt my Hansel. I can't let that happen. 'Sides, like she said, ain't like I never done it before . . . .

Fred turned fully in his chair, smiling smugly upon Gretel as she slowly ambled closer. "Yeah, c'mere, girl. I won't hurt you."

Gingerly, Gretel sidled up to the man, eyes downcast. Her hip brushed the inside of Fred's right leg. She could see the growing bulge beneath his khakis, and that made her both frightened and curious. Fred was a large man, all around; she wondered if that meant everything about him was big.

Still, she flinched when the sheriff cupped her breasts in his meaty hands. He squeezed them, a bit roughly, pinched and pulled her nipples. Gretel hissed through her teeth, feeling both a jolt of pain as well as a sense of heat that shot throughout her body, gathering low in her abdomen like the coals of a fire that had just been ignited.

"Oh, you're gonna be sweet, little girl," Fred moaned softly. He rudely pushed his fingers between Gretel's legs, cupping her intimate flesh. "That's a real prime pussy you got there. You're not a virgin, are you?"

Gretel began to answer, but as her lips parted, she gasped loudly, eyes flashing open wide from the feel of a thick, rough finger pushing past her slightly damp lips, into the tunnel beyond. Fred dug deep with that singular digit, pressing his palm against the young woman's pubic mound.

"Nope, not a virgin," Fred said with a chuckle. "Still pretty tight, though. That's good."

Gretel was sure her face was glowing beet red by that point. The finger squirming inside her, however, felt somewhat pleasant, in an unanticipated way. She could feel herself moistening around the sheriff's finger. Her breasts were beginning to throb, as if trying to grow, her nipples puckering stiffly and growing darker with each passing moment. Regardless of the scenario, she was becoming aroused.

Abruptly, Fred withdrew his questing finger from Gretel's sex, and tasted the glistening essence as he smiled upon her. "You're a shy one, aren't you?"

Gretel swallowed dryly, nodding, still keeping her head down. "Yes, sir."

"I got a feeling that's about to change," the sheriff commented, shifting on the stool and pulling down his zipper. Gretel's anxiety returned as she listened to the tiny metal teeth pop loose. Fred's hand dug inside, searching, manipulating. Finally, the dark, shiny head of an erect penis was revealed to her, riding a pale, somewhat thick shaft.

"What do you think about that?" the sheriff asked with a rakish grin. He held his stiff cock with the fingers of one hand, while the other settled upon Gretel's shoulder.

"Um . . . it's okay," she responded.

"'Okay,' little girl?" Fred echoed. His voice held an edge as he continued. "It's a lot more than 'okay.' Now, why don't you be a good little white trash whore and get to know it better. And I better not feel any teeth."

The sheriff's hard words made Gretel whimper in fear that she had done something wrong. Eager to placate him, if only to stave off any chance of further rudeness, she settled to her knees between Fred's spread legs. The manly aroma of the sheriff's crotch was strong, touched with the sweet odor of sweat. Experimentally, Gretel slid her hands up Fred's legs to his cock, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. She leaned in to lick, then kiss the tip.

"Put it in your mouth, girl," Fred ordered, his voice like gravel. "Suck it. Suck my cock."

Gretel paused only briefly, then took a breath and submerged the stiff tube of flesh in her mouth. She drew the flavor out of him, sucking intently, not moving her head at all. The sheriff's cock was thick enough to make her lips stretch, but no longer than any she had tasted before. She was able to engulf more than half his stiffness with ease.

"Oh, that's it, baby . . . suck it good, you little slut. Get me ready for that tight little cunt of yours . . . ."

Gretel frowned at the sheriff's words, yet dutifully massaged his cock with her mouth, sliding up and down. She didn't like how he was referring to her as a 'whore' and a 'slut,' how he called her private place a 'cunt.' Those were rude words. Gretel decided she did not like the sheriff very much.

Yet still she serviced him, whimpering now and then as the penis throbbed in her mouth, gliding between her slick lips. Fred had his hands on the girl's head, guiding it up and down. He liked watching the sight of his cock disappearing into the teenager's mouth. Crude words dribbled from his mouth like the drool that dripped down Gretel's chin. With each use of whore, slut, bitch, and cunt, Gretel felt more and more debased, more and more defiled.

The sheriff finally stiffened, his cock like marble in Gretel's mouth. She knew what that meant, and prepared herself for the hot outpouring that signaled the man's orgasm. She was glad for his impending release, not because she wanted to bring this rude man pleasure, but because she hoped it meant an end to her abuse.