Cinderella: An Erotic Fairy Tale

The story retold, and introducing a Witch, some ruffians and rats, a Curse, and a Member of Unusual Size.

Once upon a time, there lived a young girl named Cindy, who was probably the happiest girl in the kingdom. Her father was a rich merchant, and he doted on her, spoiling her with pretty clothes and shiny bobbles. She grew to become a singular beauty and she got all kinds of shagging. From the neighbourhood boys, not her father – this isn't that kind of tale. Her mother would bake her cookies (or, at least she had the servants do it) and Cindy would sing and play and screw away her days, without a care.

And then it all went to shit. Her mother died suddenly - nobody got the number of the red coach that ran her down. Her father went into a decline and closed himself in his room all day, not eating, not merchandizing. He ignored the household accounts, and the servants all left with the silverware. Cindy did the best she could, but things got steadily worse, until one day a woman she had never seen before came to the door and offered to nurse her father back to health.

The woman, whose name was Hilda, succeeded marvellously. Her father's bedsprings sang night and day, until a week later he emerged to announce to Cindy that he was going to re-marry on the morrow. So the very next evening Hilda, who was now Cindy's stepmother, moved in the rest of her belongings. A lovely crimson coach pulled up filled with trunks and bales and Hilda's two daughters.

Cindy's new stepsisters were unfriendly and unlovely – in a word they were ugly. Worse, her stepmother turned out to be just as rotten. Wicked, even. They treated her very badly. She had to do all the work she had done before, and now be their servant too, although there was lots of money to hire new staff. Since they made her clean out the ovens and the fireplace (as well as everything else), they took to calling her Cinderella. It was Cinderella scrub this, Cinderella fetch that, the whole day long.

It was all quite dreadful. Hilda made sure her father worked long hours at his office, and when he was home he ignored Cindy. It was as though he was in a trance. And the boys began to stay away; except for one she didn't really like much anyway. He only came around because Hilda would pay him to make out with her ugly daughters, a gold piece per base per daughter, no discounts for threesomes.

When the palace announced a masquerade ball was to be held in honour of the young Prince Alan's twenty-first birthday, Cindy's father naturally received an invitation. (Did I mention he was rich?) Small good this did Cindy. Her stepsisters only laughed at her when she wistfully said how fine it would be to go, and then they told her to be more careful ironing their gowns.

The night of the ball, Cindy found herself home alone cleaning out the fireplace yet again, and weeping, her falling tears lifting little puffs of ash as they landed at her feet.

"Cinderella! How shallow can you get?" asked a voice from behind her.

Cindy whirled around to confront a short dumpy figure in a sequined dress. "It's Cindy! And I don't care," she wailed. "I wanted to meet the Prince!" Then she added, "Who the heck are you?"

"I'm Shirley, your Fairy Godmother, of course."

Cindy thought Shirley was a bit mannish looking, and her dress didn't really fit very well, so that the tops of her bosoms were squeezed out, but she sparkled so she was clearly magical. She soon proved it.

"You really want to go to this thing, huh?"

"Oh, yes, please!"

"You got it then, dearie!" Shirley pulled a little stick out of her belt, waved it in the air, and flash – Cinderella's ragged dress became a slinky gown of silk the colour of soot. This particular shade of grey may not be so great when it's smudged on a girl's face and knees, but if it is on her low-cut dress, one that clings like a second skin, and which allows you to imagine you can see everything through its sheerness – then it is HOT.

Cindy looked down. Her old dress had done it's best to squash her breasts flat, making breathing difficult, but in this dress they stuck out proudly before her. And her hair, which had been tied up in an old kerchief, now flowed glossy and free over her bare shoulders. She could easily pass for twenty.

There was another flash, and Cindy felt a gentle pressure on her head. Looking in the mirror over the mantle she saw she was now wearing a tiara, its thin circlet of gold dusted with so many diamonds that she appeared to be wearing a halo of light. It flared brightly as it reflected the flash of the Fairy conjuring Cindy some classy slippers.

Shirley was on a roll, now. Flash again – and some hapless kittens became footmen. Another flash and a pumpkin in the corner became a shiny black coach, knocking over the buffet and dining table. "Shit," said the Fairy, as she flashed it out onto the street. More burst of light, and six cowering mice suddenly became rather confused ponies, and two rats who were trying to slip out the back way found themselves transformed into Hired Goons. "They'll look after you," Shirley said. Their shifty eyes and the ratty tails protruding from under their cloaks suggested otherwise, but when she flourished her wand and added, "or else," they took the hint.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Cindy squealed, giving her Fairy Godmother a huge hug and kissing her powdery cheek. She was so excited she just had to perform a spin test in her gown, twirling around to see the effect. Her hair lofted up, but, wonderfully, so did her tight skirt, floating up around her as though it was made of gossamer. She danced across the room, unaware that she was flashing excellent views of her delectable little pussy. The goons leered.

"Hmm. That reminds me," said Shirley. "One last thing. Or two, actually." With a flash Cindy was wearing a black mask, not the sort one wore for a masquerade, usually, but rather a narrow band of black silk knotted over her left ear. The effect was quite exotic, making her look like a corsair princess. Except ...

"Shit," the fairy muttered again, there was a small 'puff', and Cindy blinked through the two eyeholes that had abruptly appeared in her mask.

Then a final flash – and nothing to see at all. "Now you can handle the prince's curse," Shirley said with a smirk.

"What curse?" Cinderella's eyes shone wide, inside her mask.

It was the Fairy's turn to be surprised. "What? Oh ... well, a few years back the Prince used to run with a pretty rough crowd. You ever heard of Pisstol? Baredolph? Pym? No? How about Fullstaff?" Her eyes misted over at some fond memory. "No – I suppose you wouldn't have. They used to carouse and drink down in Westcheap, mostly in Mistress Speedy's place - the Boar's Little Head. You're sure you never heard this story?"

Cindy shrugged, so Shirley continued on, "The Prince was just a youngish lad then, mind. So when a raggedy old woman came in and asked for a jar of cider, Prince Al made fun of her pointy black hat. Everyone went quiet and moved away from him ... um, so they tell me," she added. "Anyway, the old girl just smiled and offered to grant him a wish. Everybody moved back another couple of feet, but Al didn't take the hint, and said he wouldn't mind being hung like a horse. We all ... I mean, everyone there gasped, excepting the witch. She just glowered – he'd taken all the fun out of it, you see. It was like shooting fish in a barrel."

"So what happened?"

"So, after that, all of Prince Al's girlfriends ran away, and people started calling him Al the Peg – behind his back, of course."

"Al the Peg?"

"You know – the man with the extra leg?"

"Extra leg?" Cindy puzzled, "Oh – you mean his peggo!" She beamed, as the light dawned. Then, as the full implications hit her, she added, "Ohh!"

"It's sort of got a mind of its own, too, but I'm not entirely sure that was the witch's doing. Most of them are like that, anyway."

Cindy goggled and looked down at the grey silk outlining her tingling pussy. Her Fairy Godmother seemed to have done something to her, but she didn't feel any different.

Shirley marvelled at the girl's innocence, given her favourite pastime. She would have been knocked up long since, had it not been for her Fairy Godmother. "Oh, and,mumble, mumble midnight," she said.

"Say what?"

"I said, you have to be out of there by midnight. The magic is mostly, like, a time-limited deal." The Fairy Godmother looked a little defensive. "So get going!"

"Aren't you coming with me?" Cindy was a bit alarmed.

"You go on ahead, dear. I expect I'll look in on you later. Right now I have some, um, business to attend to, down in Westcheap."

In no time at all, Cindy found herself at the palace being handed down out of the coach onto a red carpet, her ratty Goons looking to right and left, each with a hand under his cloak gripping his sword handle in case of trouble. The palace lackeys were suitably impressed, and hurried forward to toady her in through the huge front doors.

"Whom shall I announce, my Lady?" asked an obsequious doorman.

"Umm ... Princess Sindri of Erewon." Nobody, she was sure, would figure that one out. The name was passed, along with Cindy, to an official announcer at the top of a huge stairway, which led to the main ballroom. The man lifted a doubtful eyebrow, but after taking in the view of the beautiful masked girl in front of him, he smiled and turned to proclaim the Princess's arrival to the crowd below. She took in a deep breath and then started down the marble stair to make her entrance.

Up until then the Prince had been bored mindless and, frankly, since the arrival of the ugly stepsisters he had been a little nauseous, as well. There weren't actually many young ladies at the ball. Some girls from the city had come, like the stepsisters, out of curiosity, and they quickly whispered warnings of his affliction to a few uninformed young ladies from foreign parts. The Prince had spent most of the evening sitting alone, looking so bleak that only the king dared to intrude, at one point dragging some reluctant dukes over to talk about last night's big game (the Tigers vs. the Hunters). But when the Prince heard the strange new Princess announced, and saw the beautiful girl sweep down the staircase, he was on his feet to greet her in an instant.

Cindy curtseyed – his mask was lettered 'Prince Alan" in emeralds to prevent embarrassing incidents – and he bowed in turn and swept her straight out onto the dance floor. Luckily the conductor was alert, and the court orchestra struck up a lively waltz.

The Prince danced well, but Cindy couldn't help noticing that his right trouser leg, although very loosely cut, stirred as though he had a large truncheon stuffed down his pants. Although this was, in fact, not unusual among a certain class in the city, it wasn't to be expected of a prince, and Cindy found herself blushing.

For her part, Cindy danced with some exuberance, unaware of the breeze on her bottom. The assembled guests knew they should be scandalized, but she was a Princess, and clearly she did not intend to make a lewd display – she danced with the innocent abandon of a child on a beach. And, there it was again – she was a Princess, so allowances would be made.

There were a few exceptions, of course. An elderly general had a coughing fit and had to be wheeled into the library for a restorative brandy. And the ugly stepsisters, normally given to bickering, were agreed on this subject.

"Tramp," said one.

"Slut," said the other.

For lack of escorts, they were sitting with their mother and stepfather. Unlike the rest of the people in the room, Cindy's father's attention was focused on her top end. Something about the Princess's joyous smile held him. It was so familiar ... it was ... could it be? It was as though a spell had been broken, which of course was the case. The shock of recognition struck him just as Hilda chose to concur with her daughters. "Whore," she agreed.

"Shut up," said Cindy's father, without looking away from the dance floor. Hilda shivered. Something in the hard, flat delivery of those words suggested there were some serious problems ahead. Indeed, she should have read the fine print on the label of her vial of 'Granny Abigail's Love Potion Number Eight', which she had purchased from the old woman in the pointy black hat.

The next dance was a little more sedate, and afterward the conductor decided to chance something even slower – knowing his career, if not his head, was in the balance. The Prince, however, was taking no chances. That this Princess was at the ball, at all, meant that she had heard nothing about him, and he was determined to make the most of her warm presence before she fled, like all the others. He danced very carefully so that while their shoulders touched, Cindy received only a few accidental brushes from the mass in his pants.

After that third dance, the Prince could take no more. He drew Cindy aside into the dimly lit corridor nearby. The conductor struck up another waltz to help everyone pretend they hadn't noticed.

Cindy was thrilled by the Prince's attentions. He drew her down the hallway and into another room to sit on a softly cushioned chair. The both removed their masks, and, although the room was lit only by the moonlight, she was sure the Prince was even more handsome than he had appeared when she had once seen him with his Royal family on the State Balcony. He was full of amusing stories, plus he knew how to put his tongue in her ear just the way she liked. It reminded her how much she missed playing with her friends since her stepsisters had come. She tried to tug on the laces to his codpiece, but he managed to distract her with some excellent kisses. Soon they were locked in an embrace which can best be described as torrid, if a bit awkward, since the Prince was determined to keep her clear of his lumpy lap.

For her part, she thought about the fairy's story and was determined to check it out. An odd struggle ensued, which was briefly resolved by the Prince pinning Cindy and hoisting her silken casing far enough to lick her pussy. His tongue swirled expertly along and around her moist pink folds, with special attention being given to her little clit. This was nearly her favourite game, and so she settled in to ride out a lovely orgasm.

She recovered much more quickly than the Prince had expected, and darting forward she managed to tear loose his codpiece. His reaction surprised her. He slumped back onto the chair, moaning, with his hands covering his face. The codpiece, as it turned out, was purely ornamental, in so far as it could never have contained what was now slithering out of his breeches. The thing emerged like a snake from the charmer's basket, except the head was more python than cobra. It even had the slow, undulating motion of a powerful snake lifting to strike – and, like a snake, it seemed to follow her movements.

As it continued to emerge, she was suddenly afraid – it was so huge. Had the fairy misled her? But an overwhelming rush of pure lust quickly overcame her fears. She perched on a nearby footstool and, reaching out, she took hold of the thing by its neck. It obediently dipped down and laid its foreskin-hooded head in her lap, even as more of its body reeled out into view. The Prince's hands fell away from his face. "You're still here," he said in astonishment.

"Of course, silly," was her answer, as she stroked the heavy cock head in her lap. Her caresses made it wriggle, and its foreskin soon drew back to reveal its fat snout. It was plum shaped, but bigger than a baseball. Silvery beads of pre-cum drooled from its slit. Cindy coolly smeared the slippery stuff around its nose, and then, with an inappropriately shy smile at Prince Al, she lifted it up, opened her knees wide, and set it between her juicy pussy lips. The Prince just sat in shock, but his trouser snake knew what to do – it butted up against Cindy's crotch, pushing hard. She felt her pussy stretching, gradually but steadily, more and more, until suddenly the enormous knob surged inside her. She gasped as it entered - she knew she had been spread wider than should have been possible. Yet the feeling was marvellous. It felt even better when the thing started to slither deeper. She began to tremble with a fresh orgasm, and she felt her cunny muscles massage what must have been a foot worth of cock, stuffed deep in her belly.

There was more to come. When her spasms subsided, Cindy looked down between her creamy thighs. A fat belly loop of cock was still suspended between her and the Prince, its knotted veins visible in the moonlight. She rose to her feet, and moved closer toward him, allowing the thing inside her to drive itself even deeper. She could feel its head poking around, somewhere behind her belly button, and then she was in the grip of another round of orgasms. They were better than she had ever had, and yet she found she could control her limbs to take hold of the chair's arms and climb up over the Prince. The trouser snake continued its explorations as she moved, and soon she could feel it enter her chest. 'Thank you, Fairy Godmother,' she thought, as she felt her cunny muscles rippling in waves along the entire length of it.

The Prince was now holding her around her stretched tummy. She suddenly realized they were both making a dreadful racket – gasping and moaning in a very indecorous way for a state ball – but they were not interrupted, and gradually she felt the Prince's horse cock approach the base of her throat. God, but it felt wonderful. Orgasm after orgasm wracked her, continuously now, but she was still in control of herself as the thing slithered ever more of its fat bulk into her pussy hole and up inside. All the while, her bottom slowly dropped toward the Prince's lap.

She felt the thing's head stretch her neck as it slid up her throat, and she was forced to tip her head, way back, to accept it. Her tiara bounced off into the darkness, and she panicked, very briefly, until she realized she could still somehow breath through her nose. By that time it was creeping up over her tongue and pushing against the back of her teeth. She automatically opened her mouth and the cock head slid back out into the open, forcing her mouth to open impossibly widely as it came. Now she was being stretched as much above as below, but she still felt neither pain nor discomfort. Some eight inches of fat cock rose obscenely from her mouth to point at the ceiling, and then she felt her pussy bottom out against the princely pubis.

She knew the sight of a huge peggo emerging from her throat ought to be alarming, to some degree, but instead she found she had become quite fond of the thing. She decided she would name it Seth (although not out loud, of course). She reached up with one hand to rub its slippery head, and it bumped back against her hand, nuzzling her like her kittens often did. 'Hello Seth,' she thought, and scratched it on a chin-ish sort of spot. Then she gave it a friendly squeeze, and heard the Prince groan. Her own groans were now rather muffled, but his were getting louder than ever. Owing to her head being forced back, Cindy couldn't see the Prince's face, so she rotated her whole body around her new pet to peek down at him. He was displaying a combination of shock and pleasure. 'Good,' she thought, and then she allowed herself to revel in her internal spasms, enjoying the sensation of Seth's body throbbing inside her. To her delight, it was growing even thicker in girth, and simultaneously it was stiffening and straightening. This took some slack out of its middle, and forced several more pink inches to tower out of her mouth.

In fact, Seth had become a rigid pole, and she no longer needed to hold on to the chair to keep her balance – she was being supported from inside as though by an iron bar. By bracing her feet under her, and straightening her knees, she found that she could slide herself up along it. She swallowed cock as she rose, until her mouth closed over its knob. She was standing now, more or less upright. The massive cockhead rested in her throat, just behind her tongue, so she was still forced to look up to where painted nymphs danced on the ceiling far up in the gloom. She smacked her lips, and thought, 'Wow!' Then, with a naughty smile, she let herself drop.