Category: very silly indeed

More new endings for old tales

The Prince held the glass slipper in one hand and with the other gently supported Cinderella’s foot as it slipped delicately inside.  It was a perfect fit.
He looked up adoringly at the golden-haired vision of loveliness seated in the chair in front of him.
“I knew such a divine creature as you was not born to labour all day in rags” he breathed.  “From this day forward you shall live in a palace, as is your right.”
Cinderella smiled and nodded gently with satisfaction.  Behind her, there was a swirling in the air and her Fairy Godmother appeared.
The Prince hardly noticed, as his gaze was drawn back down to the glass slippers.  The perfect crystal of which they were made concealed nothing of the feet inside.  An elegant ankle was gently cradled by the rim of the shoe, within which Cinderella’s feet arched delicately down to where her toes lay gently clasped within the transparent material of the shoes.  The toes wriggled slightly, and – drawn by an impulse he had never felt before – the Prince’s head slowly inclined forward as he bent down to kiss them.
“What are you doing?” he heard Cinderella enquire, sharply.
He looked up in some confusion.
“I…I’m kissing the dear feet of my bride to be” he replied, awed at the cold beauty of her face.
Cinderella laughed, and kicked him sharply in the chest.
“Bride?  I’m not going to marry you, you idiot.  Marry a man?  Nasty, sweaty hairy things.  Never.”
And she gazed affectionately up at her fairy godmother, who reached down and gently stroked her hair.  She clasped the outstretched hand in hers, and brought it softly to her lips.
“But…but…don’t you want to live in a palace?” the Prince stammered in confusion.
“Of course I do” she replied, scornfully.  “But not by marrying you.  That wasn’t the deal at all – was it Fairy G?  Not in this fairy tale.”
And the Fairy Godmother shook her head, laughing, then waved her wand thrice around and the room filled with purple light.
When the Prince’s eyes recovered, he was amazed at the transformation that he saw.  Above him, in the chair was Cinderella but now dressed as a prince in a suit – his suit! – of jewelled finery.  She stood up, admiring her clothing with satisfaction.  He looked down at his own clothing in confusion.  He was in rags, wearing nothing but a torn and faded dress, with an apron tied around it.  A gentle draught blew through the room as a servant opened the door for Cinderella to leave, and he felt the cold running through him as it curled around and under his skirt, chilling the unprotected regions beneath.
Cinderella turned to look at him.  “The cleaning materials are all in the cupboard below the stairs” she smiled.  “You’ll find it easily enough – it’s where you sleep.”
She turned to one of her servants (his servants!).  “I think I want to interview all of those young ladies we’ve been seeing, all over again.  Have them brought to my bedchamber.  Let’s say…two, no make it three of them each night.”
And with that, she swept out of the room and the Prince was left alone, kneeling on the floor.  But he was not alone for long, as the door to the hall was flung open.
“What are you doing loafing around there!?  IF WE’RE NOT MARRYING THE PRINCE, THAT AT THE VERY LEAST WE CAN LIVE IN A HOUSE THAT’S PROPERLY CLEANED, CAN’T WE? AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ABOUT OUR DINNER?”
The Prince looked up, to see the two rather statuesque ladies of the house who had earlier tried the slipper, standing before him.  He opened his mouth to speak, but he found it had gone dry.  He looked from one unsmiling sister to the other.  Both were holding whips.
And Cinderella lived happily ever after.  And so did the Prince, really, little pervert that he is.

The end.

Fiction: Take me to your Mistress

An extremely silly science fiction story, for those who like that sort of thing.

“Where’s Servitor?” Mistress Valerie asked.
Sandra looked up from the picnic table where she was heating water for some tea.  “I sent him over the ridge to the stream to wash up the dishes” she replied, nodding towards a rise in the ground just beyond the field where they had eaten lunch.
Just as she spoke, there was an eerie wail and a whoosh, and the far side of the ridge lit up with a blue flash, accompanied by green beams of light stabbing up into the sky.
Mistress Valerie looked worried.  “That sounds like an unusually severe fuck-up even by Servitor’s standards” She said.  “I’d better go and take a look.”  She took a riding crop, in case Servitor needed some help getting on with his work, and set off towards the disturbance.
As she scrambled over the top of the ridge, an extraordinary sight met her eyes.  Instead of seeing Servitor diligently scrubbing plates and forks in the little brook at the bottom, she saw what could only be described as a flying saucer.  Green, about 20 metres across and pulsing with energy, it had a ramp extended down to the ground.  Near the bottom of this ramp lay Servitor, stark naked (as he had been before, to be fair) and writhing helplessly (which on this occasion he had not been, at least not yet).
Standing over him was the strangest sight of all – a grey humanoid creature, with a huge bulbous head from which tentacles emerged curling over and down from its mouth.  It had two pairs of dark, intelligent, human-looking eyes above a gill-like arrangement on its cheeks.  It was looking down at Servitor, and prodding him with its tail.
Mistress Valerie strode down towards it.  “Oi!  Leave that alone – it’s mine.” she ordered, riding crop at the ready.
The creature looked up at the new arrival and made a strange whiffling noise.  “Ah, another puny human creature!”  it boomed.  “Have you come to challenge me, earthling?  You cannot harm me, a telepathic immortal of superior intellect and power of which you cannot conceive!  Surrender now.”
“I don’t think so” Mistress Valerie replied, casually.  “Now I told you – that’s mine and I want you to leave it alone.”  She flexed the riding crop menacingly.
The creature whiffled its laugh again.  “My technology is so far beyond your silly little stick-weapon as to be beyond your comprehension, earthling!” it declared contemptuously.  “See how I inflict agony on this ally of yours with just the power of my mind!”
And its forehead wrinkled, light enveloped the struggling Servitor and he instantly flung his limbs out in all directions, threw back his head and screamed in agony.  The creature watched approvingly for a few seconds, then nodded and the light faded to nothing, leaving Servitor to collapse in a shuddering heap.
“Yeah – but he loves it really.” Mistress Valerie said calmly, gazing down at the sobbing form.  “I’ve seen it before – hamming it up.  He gets all turned on thinking about it afterwards.”
“Does he?” the alien replied, uncertainly, suddenly no longer quite so confident.  It looked down at Servitor carefully.  “So he does.  How very unusual.  Are there many like him on your planet?”
“Oh, not that many.” Mistress Valerie smiled.  “But enough to pay the mortgage, you know?”
The creature looked confused.  Then it seemed to rally itself, and straightened up decisively. “Still – “ it boomed, louder than ever “ – the time has come, earthling, for you and all your kind to surrender to the power of – “
“Did you say ‘telepathic’?” Mistress Valerie inquired, casually.
The alien looked back at Her.  “Errr…yes, telepathic.” it said.
“You can look into people’s minds and read their thoughts?” Mistress Valerie prompted.
“I can” it said proudly, drawing itself up a little higher.
Mistress Valerie took a step forward, almost touching the frontal fronds of the strange creature.  She fixed its eyes with a level stare.  “Look into mine!”, She whispered.
The creature stared back into her amber eyes, its forehead wrinkled and its own eyes assumed a slightly faraway look.  It seemed a little puzzled at first, then a look of pure terror swept across its face.  Its eyes snapped back to reality, and met Mistress Valerie’s cool stare again for half a second more.  Then with a high-pitched whimper of fear and a flurry of tentacles, it disappeared up into the spaceship, which lurched off the ground with a whine of engines, and hurled itself into the sky with indecent haste.
Mistress Valerie gazed up at the fast-disappearing dot.  “I think I just saved the world” she mused.  “They should put up a statue to me.”
She looked down to the ground, where Servitor was burbling something grovelly about always wanting to put up a statue to her, and was also trying to kiss her boot.  She moved away with distaste and kicked him gently in the face.
“Come on Servitor – can’t just laze around there all day.” She announced.  “Get on with your work, or you’ll be getting a taste of my crop.”
And she cracked it down across his naked flesh, just for emphasis.  She looked with approval at the angry red welt that instantly appeared.
“Silly little stick-weapon indeed!” She snorted.  “Some creatures just don’t appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship.”
And as Servitor limped slowly back towards the washing up, she set off back up the ridge to see if the tea was ready.
My apologies for the way the picture does not in any way match the story, except being a dominant woman in a SF setting.  But I just had to include it…fondly remembering when as a teenager, I was delightfully surprised when the divine Rachel Welch transformed an episode (actually two episodes) of Mork and Mindy into…a formative experience for this young pervert.
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