Pussypower Reloaded: A Fucked-Up Fairy Tale
Princess Cherrypop idly pet her pussy by the side of the River of Sparkling Goodness, fantasizing about the day a charming, handsome prince would appear before her, offering to chastly marry her and. carry her to his palace where extremely vanilla proceedings would take place and little to none of the “kink,” except for perhaps a mild spanking.
“Oh Twatzapooner,” she cried, youthful tears spilling down her cheeks,” my heart yearns for him. When will he hear my pleas, and manifest my desire?”
But answer came there none. Instead, an eyebird came and began to peck at the berries of a Broomjumb tree that went up and up almost beyond the visible, with its top plunged through a labial fold in the clouds…which vaguely reminded her of something.
“Twatzapooner will never hear you, I can assure you, my pretty,” boomed a dark, oily and evil voice within her head. It seemed to expand and expand, the pressure awful and enormous, and every word like a knife stabbing her brain. Cherrypop screamed.
“What do you WANT with me, Nair? I’ve never troubled you in the slightest!!! Why must you be so CRUEL to me, you heatless…words that rhyme with other words disallowed me by decree of my father, King Hubert Longwood XII, King of Euphoria?”
The Baroness Cuntingham, Queen of Nair, then laughed, and the laugh was hideous, and the knives redoubled with stabbing frenzy, and the Princess Cherrypop wished for death.
She wished to be felled on the spot by the ax of a stray woodsman, specifically, the pain was so bad.
Suddenly she heard the voice of the goddess Twatzapooner herself inside her head, masking Nair’s.
“My dear Princess Cherrypop, do not fear, my child. I will requite your faith in me. Do but use the pussypower I have invested in the maternal line of the royal lineage of the Kingdom of Euphoria from time immemorial. Remember, that is the power that Baroness Cuttingham, Queen of Nair, wishes to take from you, by force if necessary.”
“I know it well, dear Twatzapooner…I know her plans too well!” cried the princess. “She has sent many a gremlin with cutting tools to excise my precious pussy; she has sent bands of awful mutated beasts to drag me off into the woods. She has bound me and stopped me my mouth with plugs of rubber–a sensation not unpleasurable, which didst cause me pussysquirt. But what she wishes, I cannot provide.”
“I cannot provide this either, child,” said Twatzapooner, manifesting beside the princess beside the River. She was wearing a puffy pink dress that followed the divine camel lips, a crown inset with diamonds, a pink leather bustier and a d-ring, and long pink leather gloves. “I am bound by the same laws as thee, and all the other creatures within my domain. For it is well said that even the gods cannot subvene where law exists.
“It pains me much that the only means I have available to rescue you from your plight–the stabbing of the dreaded Raven’s Claw weapon wielded by Nair, by Cuntingham, is to indeed summon the aid of the woodsman, Rudolpho.” She waved her wand and instantly by her side appeared the woodsman, Rudolpho.
Unfortunately, Rudolpho was of a beastly and brutish cast and understood little, including the skill by which better woodsmen kept their axe blades sharp af. As a consequence, when the goddess Twatzapooner bid him swipe off the princess’s head, it was not in a single smooth motion, but in a ghastly series of whacks that caused her head to sag partially off at the neck. The feeling of the dull ax blade at her neck caused the princess great pain, which, coupled with the stabbing sensations caused by the magical weapon the Raven’s Claw, made things far worse for her.
“Merciful Twatzapooner,” cried the princess, “i am in utter agony the likes of which this young body cannot long endure.” So saying, the princess sagged down, her eyes rolling up towards the back of her head, exposing the whites. Gussets of blood foamed from her neck and spilled from between her lips. She placed her palms together once in supplication, then closed her eyes forever.
Cuntingham screamed. “Twatzapooner, whatever happened to our agreement. the Wednesday Friday Henne Accord?”
“My dear cunting Cuntingham, you must have been at the jubjub juice, because thou makest less than no sense. Why, knowing that my powers are vastly superior to yours insofar as I created you and can snuff you with a thought, do you wish to incur my wrath?”
“Oh piss off, Twatzapooner,” cried Nair. “I”m the new power in Euphoria, and have been for a lon–“
The words had scarce exited her peeling, sore-encrusted lips when a pain of awful dimensions suddenly stabbed deep within her head.
“How do you like the Raven’s Claw within thine own skull?” chortled Twatzapooner.
“I fucking HATE it,” roared Cuntingham. “Stop these shenanigans immediately! I’m warning you for the…”
But this time the words were stifled immediately. The flesh of her lips sealed in on itself with lightning speed, effectively gagging her. Her throat felt swollen, as though she were choking endlessly and would never be able to eject the foreign object now permanently embedded in her throat. The agony of the Raven’s Claw renewed itself over and over and over, as, beside her, the Princess Cherrypop’s soul left her body and ascended to a heaven as rapturously beautiful and pain-free as the body she had abandoned was full of torture and pain.
Then Nair felt something kick her in the chest like a mule. She tried to clutch at her chest, but the woodsman had returned from the tree he had been hiding behind, shitting himself in terror as he watched the goddesses’ wrath unfurl. With the seat of his britches stained, dripping and smelly from an awful load, his ax-wielding grip was forced to raise the blade against Nair this time. He whacked and he whacked and he whacked, opening up huge bloody wounds in her chest.
“I wish I could die like that bitch Cherrypop,” thought Nair.
“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?” roared Twatzapooner.
“I said…I WISH I COULD JUST…”
With another wave of her want, Twatzapooner silenced Nair’s inner voice.
It was the worst feeling imaginable. Nair was now twice muted, in pain that rose to a level she had never once experienced in her life. She was beset within and without with excruciating torment, yet due to Twatzapooner’s power she remained terribly conscious, locked within her own head.
“You keep forgetting that the Wednesday Friday Bwak Bwak Bwak Accord was purely a figment of your cuntish imagination,” said Twatzapooner with a girlish giggle. “Now you will spend eternity…or until I release you for good behavior, which you will never be able to achieve due to the state I’ve placed you in…suffering all the hellish cruelties of heaven over and over and over again. Truly it was once said that we are here to hurt each other, and even a goddess must play by the rules ordained since time began. Sucks to be you.”
And with those words, Twatzapooner joined Cherrypop in heaven which was like Euphoria only transcendental and sublime. Twatzapooner gave the Princess the option of returning to Earth in her own form, which she accepted, and within seconds she found herself tumbled once more to the side of her beloved cat, Mimsywroth, who meowed in welcome of her mistress.
From very far away, Cherrypop thought she could hear the sounds of a cuntish Queen screaming. “But then again,” she said to herself, “it’s probably the wind.”
THEES EES THEE ENT
Horror Sleaze Trash 