Tristabelle

Bonus Splendificent Series Sex Scene! AHHHHHHh!

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Listen up! Don’t say I don’t do anything nice for you people. Because right here, right now, I present you gorgeous readers with a cut sex scene from my recent Christmas book…

Splendifcient Christmas

Angry Santa Elves kidnap Princess Tristabelle, a pure elf, and teach her the true meaning of Christmas…….

 

The Cut Scene:

Skewered by two black dongs, her nipples sucked into swollen pulp, the whore princess thrashed around like a pig in slop. Quite fitting considering she began making obscene pig noises.

 

“OINK! OINK! OINK!”:

 

One junior elf did not enjoy the oinking noises and so shoved dirty underwear into Tristabelle’s mouth. Her thick saliva pooled around the briefs, but the noise did not stop.

 

“MMMMFOINK!MMMFOINJKMMMOINK!MMOINK!””

 

“Don’t degrade the kings of the elves with pig noises!” Blue Beard shouted.

 

Handlebar Mustache drilled her ass for maximum pain. Her flesh could barely stretch to accommodate his beef stick.  As he owned the airhead she began snorting most obscenely and unladylike before ejecting the dirty underwear and letting out a loud “soooooweeeeeeeeeeeee!”.

 

This annoyed the underwear-toting elf, and he shoved his dirty briefs back into her mouth. The smell was terrible and she could taste his rank musk. Her beautiful eyes welled with tears, for the stench was too much to endure. The only reason she was spared more of it was that Orange Goatee replaced the underwear with his mighty dong.

 

“Rub you lips around the shaft of your Christmas past, present and future! He who has journeyed through the ends of Christmas sins has arrived to present to you your Master and Lord!”

 

Of all the guys Tristabelle had sucked off this orange-haired elf had to be the weirdest. Even weirder than that 973-year-old vampire who lived in the mud hut and liked to do scenes from  “Cabaret” while getting his dick sucked.

 

Orange Goatee fucked her mouth like it was a sex toy. A rather cheap one at that. Like one he’d throw away after use.

 

“The North Pole elves are the cream of the crop, and you are the bottom of the barrel! We built the Kentendo Pee-U! No one does it better!” Blue beard declared.

 

Her eyes first started rolling back and forth. Then they began bulging to the point they looked like they might explode. Princess Tristabelle was far weaker than her big sister, Astrid, and thus could barely breathe as she was brutally pounded. Astrid probably wouldn’t even deign to suck to begin with.

 

“Mmfmfmfmfmfm!” Tristabellle whined around the dick that filled her mouth. By now the elves realized there weren’t going to be any profound epiphanies coming pass those ruby red lips. But the whore princess kept babbling away even as she was throat fucked.

 

“MffmfmMfmgfmmfmfmfmfmfmfmm!”

 

She continued to grunt like some kind of wild animal. Something far dirtier than a pig, she was in a class of her own. Asgard help her, how could a princess be humiliated in such a way?

 

“The cream rises to the top and dirt sinks to the bottom! Dig it!” Blue Beard shouted.

 

A new set of junior elves were fondling her golden globes, while another was tugging on her golden locks rather cruelly. Of course she couldn’t forget about Blue Beard who tore down her walls with his black sabre. The ditzy princess screamed as he battered her perpetually tight pussy.

 

Momentarily free of the cock, Tristbelle whined,  “I am the jewel of the kingdom! I can not be gotten with child! Not if the child is to be born with a funny colored beard!”

 

“The only jewel you are is a cock ring!” Handlebar Mustache declared.

 

 

 

One thing that made Princess Tristabelle such a popular target for rogues and villains was that she was tight to fuck and easy to break. Penises could stuff her, her fur burger would struggle to accept them, and she could do nothing but whimper and whine against the haughty cheers of her captors.

 

“Tell us who the bitch is!” Handlebar Mustache ordered her.

 

“It is my Geometry teacher. I have already told you. And people say I am stupid.”

 

That didn’t make Blue Beard and Handlebar very happy. They would have fucked her stupid, but alas Tristabelle reached that point long ago. But they kept pounding her, jamming in, in, in, in, impossibly in, until Tristabelle felt conquered by their dicks.

 

“Sooooowweeeeeee!” the piggy princess shouted against her will.

 

It was the dick in her shitter that drove her to cry like that. She could only imagine how the black member looked disappearing between her white ass cheeks. The AllFather surely built such a tight, taut ass for show, not to go, based on its restrictive entryway. But his golden creation was being mercilessly degraded and desecrated.

 

The royal nitwit kept snorting, not intelligent enough even to feign some semblance of dignity. Although in her vapid mind, having someone inside you lent their brain power to you. This theory led to this profound thought…

 

“You are heartless villains!” she cried. “You are violating a future queen! Well…queen should

one or two or eight siblings abdicate their positions. But I assure you it could happen!”

 

That she managed to verbalize thoughts and feelings was quite impressive because she shortly went back to snorting and oinking. It was clear Tristabelle didn’t need a bedroom for a fuck when a barnyard would do just fine. Somewhere there was a pig wondering why she was being bred on silk sheets.

 

“SOOOWEEEEEEEEEE!” Tristballe wailed, unable to control her shameful sound effects.

 

This just made the elves share a good laugh. A good Christmas laugh! It may have been fun to ride in a one horse open sleigh for the holidays. But it was even more fun to ride a wide open pig princess. Indeed they felt they deserved this prize after the crunch to produce 5,244  Gary Potter Pogwarts Great Dildo wand building kits.

 

“And what about my present?” Tristabelle whined. “It was very big! I began unwrapping the present, expecting a new pony, only to be assaulted by those hung like horses! How dare you deny me such a big present? Why, the people who left me that present must be distraught!”

 

The elves didn’t or couldn’t collect one response between the lot of them. What words could form after hearing such utter idiocy?

 

The princess thought for certain her weight would crush poor Blue Beard eventually. At some point his endurance would break beneath her and she’d triumph like Astrid. But she overestimated her own size. Although lean with muscle, the only weight she carried belonged to her big fat sweater meat. Thus little meat head continued to drive upward, pounding her as if he didn’t give two fucks about her.

 

Tristabelle’s lithe body was laid across an oak table, knocking off miniature glittery pink Christmas trees.. Despite having once been fucked on such glorious accommodations as a bed of rocks, against a brick house, over a trash can, and with her head stuck through a railing, she still complained about the table,

 

“This table does not suit a lady of my stature! Have you not at least a table Queen Charlotte dined on? I shall even accept one used by an American first lady.”

 

“Someone shut her up,” Handlebar Mustache growled.

 

Blue Beard spoke loud as usual, “What style what grace myself and the brothers have exhibited tonight! Junior Elves, this woman looks down on you, she doesn’t like your style, she doesn’t like your ways. She doesn’t even see you as men, boys. Are you going to let her get away with that?”

 

Blue Beard had only two things going for him, his giant dick and his way with words. Those masterful ways spurred an already horny pair of junior elves to swarm upon Tristabelle.

 

“The North Pole Elves cannot be denied!” Blue Beard boasted.

 

That the junior elves needed stools to reach her probably didn’t help Tristabelle see them as men. But as one roughly shoved his fat pecker up her amazingly still tight cunt and another invaded her mouth, she knew she dealt with men of inflamed passions.

 

“Gruuhghhggh!” she mumbled around the dick that slid in so deep that pubic hair tickled her nose.

 

How her captors always loved to throat fuck her! Turn her upside down, and batter her mouth until her teeth rattled. The AllFather must have built her cupid’s bow lips to swallow schlongs. If only he had blessed her with some form of resilience. As always the situation grew more demanding for the poor princess; the junior elf reamed her so hard his teeny weeny balls began slapping against her cute widdle nose. It was as if someone kept dancing gumdrops on her face.

 

But the cock that filled her fur muffin! What it lacked in length it made up for in width. The fat hunk of meat caused Tristabelle to worry about being split in two. Not metaphorically split in two, but literally split in two, broken in half by a short fat dong. Like the poor ladies at the magic shows!

 

“Urrrrrrrrrrggghghg….” She groaned helplessly around the meatsicle in her mouth. A giant gob of mucus and spit seeped from her sore, jack-hammered mouth. “Urrghgghgh!” She cried again, eyes bulging yet again. It was a wonder those purple orbs didn’t finally shatter into dust.

 

The junior elf in her semen locker dropped off his load with a guttural roar. That big load of spunk surged through her and had her howling around the dick that savaged her mouth. This alarmed Tristabelle to no end! Two North Pole elves had come inside her! What if she gave birth to a baby with two fathers? What would his last name be?

 

 

 

 

 

Hoe, Hole, Hoe!

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Christmas may be over, but jolly ol Saint Nick left behind some presents for ol Jack Mehoff!

 

The Splendficent series babes, Giselle Nyfall and Trisabelle Elvrina are still in the Christmas spirit. For these Hotties, season’s greetings are all about giving. What these horny bitches are giving is those hot blond bodies! Take a look at Giselle Nyfall, the book series main character and all around klutz!

 

 

That may be an electrical hazard Giselle! But who cares? I’ll risk shocking myself to death in front of the advent calendar just to hook up with this randy babe! Those Christmas ornaments attached to her just look like they could use a little frosting to complete. I think you get my drift.

 

Though Princess Tristabelle’s family adheres to Norse religion you can’t stop the Princess of Golden Land from getting down and nasty! Even on the lord’s day!

A smile on her face and a candy cane between her tits, who could ask for me? I think we can ask for more thing to complete the scene. I’m talking about taking for a ride, and not a sleigh ride!

 

It just so happens these two rauncy cuties have Splendificent Christmas stories for you to warm up with in this cold time. In fact, you may need to dive into the snow to cool yourself down after reading these hot sluts in action:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DacyAlex

https://www.amazon.com/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3ADacy+Alex&s=relevancerank&text=Dacy+Alex&ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1

 

My Sister The Moron, A Research Paper by Constanina Elvrina

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Princess Tristabelle Elvrina

 

Researcher: Princess Constantina Elvrina of Clan Elvrina of Golden Land
Research focus: The intelligence level of Princess Tristabelle Elvrina and the detriment it causes to her life

A wide range of incidents has resulted in many questioning this author’s sister, Princess Tristabelle Elvrina’s exact intelligence level. Open speculation within Hildegarde Palace persists she is intellectually frail. After extensive research and talking with my sister, I have concluded Tristabelle has the lowest intelligence level of any elf in the kingdom of Golde Land. Beyond the elven race, she is acts in ways consistent of someone only moderately more intelligent than your average orc.

My research findings incidate Tristabelle owns an incredible inability for critical thought, a failure to learn from past mistakes, and is more gullible than the average fairy child under the age of 10.

In a series of questions, Tristabelle provided me with the following insights:

Constantina: Tristabelle, what is safe sex?
Tristabelle: Why, it is when you lock the door so interlopers can not molest you!

Constanina: This a food wrapper from America. I would like you to read the content of the front label to me.

Tristabelle: M and m-s….M and Miss!

Constantina: Tristabelle, why do you only wear thongs?
Tristabelle: They are much easier for my mate to pry to the side than panties!

Constantina: Tristabelle, I would like to quote an American idiom and you tell me your opinion. “If you look up the word dumb in the dictonary, Princess Tristabelle’s face will be next to it.”
Tristabelle; That is poppycock and faldariddle! I have never done a dictionary photoshoot in my life,

I would have liked to interview Tristabelle further but he stated she had to meet a troll under a bridge about purchasing said bridge. She did not listen to me when I claimed trolls were constant liars and frauds and that the crown already owned that bridge. Tristabelle was found bent over a rock beneath the bridge, her freshly sodomized rear end hiked high into the air.

Further, the research indicates that Tristabelle’s lack of intelligence is a threat to her safety unmatched by any other’s dimwitted nature. In three months of sample size Tristabelle fell for four scams, three traps, and suffered five kidnappings. She states that as a result of these occurrences, she became a sex slave numerous times. The only reason we do not have an accurate number is because Tristabelle declares, “intercourse and counting are two mutually exclusive activities!”

As an aside, it seems Tristabelle has trouble counting past 68. She explains that her math tutor said he would “owe her one” after she performed oral sex upon him.

By researching Tristabelle’s stupidity, and the effects of her captures, I believe, to use a colloquial phrase, “Tristabelle is getting her brains fucked out.” I believe that Tristabelle’s captors are engaging in such rough sex with her that her brain is becoming rattled and damaged. There is no medical or magical precedence for this. But, there is little to explain why she keeps falling for the same traps and believes in such obvious tricks.

Tristabelle told me I should not worry as her captors typically ejaculate in her anus and not on her face. Thus her makeup is “always preserved.”

Shortly after I wrote this summary, Tristabelle went off to chase down a wererabbit passing off counterfeit copper pieces. She chased him to his ‘rabbit hole,” not knowing wererabbits don’t have rabbit holes, and got stuck haflway upon diving in head first. Our sister Astrid, found Tristabelle, stuck in the hole, being sodomized by the wererabbit in question.

Miss Golden Land Part 3

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Princess Tristabelle!

****

Even the orc royalty could not rise above the dreary and macabre, Tristabelle determined from her surroundings.

Queen Gretawuld had led Tristabelle to the throne room. The Queen explained the orcs carved it into the underground after their initial arrival into the earth realm.

As the historians told it, many centuries ago, the trickster god had told an elven clan jealous of the Elvrinas power and upset over a spurned marriage offer that the way to ruin the earth’s scions lay in an unexplored forest in the north of Golden Land. Taking the clan and their knights north, the insulted family found only a treasure chest in a clearing of the woods. The eldest daughter of the clan, once spurned by marriage to an Elvrina, eagerly opened the chest

The lusted-after treasure inside was toxic miasma that had been simmering since time’s dawn. Its black bile spread throughout the forest, killing all life, emptying all ponds and lakes, and darkening the sky. Only a great spell by Raven Chevalthorn could keep the miasma from consuming Golden Land.

The miasma still etched it’s evil into Golden Land’s landscape, however. With the miasma opening a portal to Muspelheim and Jotunheim, many a wretched being came into the Earth realm. Gargoyles, wyverns, wolfmen, orcs, and many more infested Golden Land. They’ve remained a troubling blotch on its picturesque beauty.

And there was nothing beautiful about the orc throne room decorated with animal skins, animal skulls, and a throne made of bones. The throne was currently being gnawed on by mini wyverns, who were no less fearsome than their larger brethren.

“Why, you are lucky I am not sipping blood from your dismembered body part.” Tristabelle curtly informed the orc. He glowered as he swatted away a red wyvern.

He was King Omarr. He boasted tusks broader and bigger than any of his male subjects, owned a beard that could earn a salute from a dwarf, and bore into Tristabelle with sharp red on red eyes.

“Drink blood from me?” He questioned, leaning forward, his body layered with muscle and creaking the bones he sat on.

“Yes, of course. You have kidnapped me from my coronation, tried to feed me goblin or imp or what have you, and you, sir, by doing that have earned a dismembering and blood-drinking. But I instead offer you and your Queen an opportunity to spare yourself the humiliation and trauma that oft comes with the shedding of body parts.”

“What’s this deal, little princess?” Queen Gretawuld spoke from behind Tristabelle, her arms crossed beneath her giant chest.

Tristabelle glanced over at the orc’s sigil, a raised fist that rested on a tattered rag above a pile of skulls. This would require a serving of might and finality.

“How you orcs smile so when a pretty elf passes your vision. But a night with you is not even worthy of the next morning’s regret. Why, if I could reach out and grab a star for every time an orc failed to satisfy their lover I would hold the story of the universe in my hand.”

“Pretty Princess talk too much!” Omarr thundered. He spoke loud enough to cause the mini wyvrens to scatter to the ceiling. “Pretty princess make fool of orcs?”

Tristabelle snickered. She snickered far too much for someone in the presence of the orc King and Queen. They just seemed worth giggling at. They were about to fall into the seductive trap of a sister of Frejya. While the sexual arts were meant to be a means of worship for the sisters, this sister was more than a tad mischievous and devious with her learned arts.

“Be thankful a fool is all I shall make of you. I have no deal for you. Rather I have a gamble.”

The King leaned forward, his red eyes sparking in anger. His tusks gleamed.

These lucky orcs, Tristabelle thought. This was far kinder duel than they deserved. But it was undoubtedly a surer bet than fighting a king who kept a spiked club almost as tall as Princess Maggie.

“The tales of orc impotence are as legendary as the tales of my foolish brother Rodgir arriving to the former Lord Falk’s wake wearing only a turban, a thong and the stench of booze. But I offer you a chance to disprove your ragged reputation. Bring me to climax and your prisoner I shall remain forevermore. But, and I shall make terms advantageous to you, I bring you both to climax I am free to leave with the King’s weight in gold. And, dear, King Omarr, you look like you have been on my brownie only diet.”

The tattered flag of the orcs looked even more worn to Tristabelle upon another glance. The underground dwellers were little contest for her cunning and seductiveness. They had ogled elves in the hot springs but had never encountered the sexual power of a sister of a Frejya!

“To show sexual might to pretty princess, we orcs will take that gamble!” Gretawuld boomed from behind Tristabelle.

Gretawuld hollered loud enough to make Tristabelle jump. But the pretty Princess composed herself quickly enough to let her cupid’s bow lips from a slick smile. What great fools these orcs were. What poor fools they were about to be!

Tristabelle felt her head snap back, courtesy of a tight tug on her wavy blond bob. She yelped in surprise; this open-mouthed noise gave Gretawuld license to hurl a wad of spit into her mouth.

“Little princess ours!” Greatwuld snapped, further tugging on Tristabelle’s locks. Again Tristabelle emitted a yelp, and again a helping of orc spit traveled down her throat.

The pure elf had been so busy paying attention to her yanked upon hair and spat upon mouth she had not bothered to register the movement or actions of Omarr. That was until she felt the rigid bulk of his penis pressed against her center.

“Why, it must be 36 centimeters!” Tristabelle declared.

Tristabelle had not expected that! Certainly, she would have to relay the size of the orc king’s penis to her sister Constantina for recording in the annals.

Within seconds the pure elf princess was on her knees faced with the largest erection she had ever borne witness to. It was green, veiny and the Princess swore it was as thick as a log. In short order, Gretawuld pressed the princess head forward, forcing her mouth to circle about the member. The giant orc thrust his dick in deep. Deep enough to make her gag, something which never, ever, happened to her.

“Pretty princess no handle King Omarr!” He gloated.

Tristabelle’s gagged counter rang hollow.

At Gretawuld’s insistence, the orc king kept his meat lodged so deeply within her mouth that her almond set eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Little princess too weak to handle orc!” Greatwuld taunted her, her fingers still tightened in Tristabelle’s blond locks.

Tristabelle’s eyebrows creased with anger! This was unacceptable to be insulted and belittled by an orc no matter their station in their society. Disgusting!

Tristabelle would show them who could handle who! She twisted her warm tongue along the thick shaft, making the orc king squirm as it should be! Then, after a moment of hesitation, she swallowed a huge gulping of his meat unprompted by Gretawuld.

“Little Princess not get enough!” Greatwuld declared, then let out booming laughter.

Omarr pushed his hips forward, sending even more of his fourteen inches down her throat. Again Tristabelle gagged, and found her pretty purple eyes rolling to the back of her head. Still, Tristabelle took the dick like a true sister of Frejya and pushed King Omarr to the limit. She knew she should finish him off and seal the deal. But instead, she pulled her lips back to finish with a kiss on top of the green cockhead.

King Omarr wanted more though! He wanted all of her mouth. His brawny fingers found her beautiful hair, entwining around his digits. Much to Tristabelle’s pleasure and her total dizziness he fucked her mouth with wanton energy. Perhaps forgetting the crux of the bet, he fucked her mouth nearly to the point of no return.

Sensing that her husband was soon to lose his end of the bet, Gretawuld dragged Tristabelle away from his cock. A long bridge of spit connected the Princess between herself and her lover.

“Perhaps you grow jealous?” Tristabelle surmised with a cheeky grin.

Suddenly Gretawuld forced her hand between Tristabelle’s legs. The Princess let out another of her little yelps as Gretawuld pressed her slender yet strong fingers against the blond’s clit. Without any preamble or delay, Gretawuld shoved three fingers inside Tristabelle.

“Good heavens!”

Tristabelle watched King Omarr smile a gruesome sort of smile as she couldn’t stop herself from humping the orc queen’s fingers. Her clit pulsed and her entire body hummed. Waves of pleasure rocked her, but not hard enough to make her cum. Not yet, at least.

As Gretawuld pounded Tristabelle’s sex and Tristabelle’s humped back, her fine ass bounced and jiggled. It was an inviting piece of flesh for the orc king who delivered a thundering slap to it. The slutty Princess let out a little cry that was quite like a hiccup. That encouraged the orc king to slap her ass yet again. This time he left a hand print that covered her entire right ass cheek.

Spasms tightened her body. But she kept it under control. She would not cum for these two orcs. They would cum for her. She would in no way lose this bet!

Within a blur of time, Tristabelle found herself mounted by King Omar. With all those inches pressed within her, her eyes bulged and drool ran from her lower lip. She felt quite unladylike and quite the mess. Though that was nothing new for her sexual shenanigans.

She found herself being pounded by his mammoth girth, feeling her much smaller thighs smack helplessly against his. Merciful Allfather, he was huge! Not just his gigantic green member but his whole body.

How much longer could she hold out?

***

Astrid threw herself spinning away from one orc clutches. He was just a simple miner caught up in her clearing the way for Idual into the orc’s city.

Another miner reached for her only to catch her magical sword Pendulum between his fingers. As he hollered over his missing digits, Astrid flung herself at an oncoming guard to remove his left arm.

Suddenly a female orc grabbed her from behind! Or more accurately grabbed her massive tits.

Astrid was so shocked, reason and thought evaded her. She simply let herself get thrown down to the ground by what she saw to be a 6’6 orc woman with a shaved head. Her breasts, mammoth balls of green were behind chain armor.

“Get elf!” The orc woman announced, scooping up Astrid by her hair. “Mmmm elf play with me.”

“Get off me!”

Astrid was tall. Astrid was strong.

Astrid was no orc. The woman, with a fistful of Astrid’s locks, dragged her into a shack, It was a ragged thing, a bed, a dresser, and a bin full of sex toys.

“Elf look like good whore!”

Astrid found her barbarian bikini armor pried apart to leave her exquisitely muscled body on display.

Still, the mighty orc woman was the real body of iron, bursting with muscles across her body. It was a body she exposed, removing her loincloth, and her chain bikini top.

“Stay away, orc!”

Thanks to those orc muscles Astrid got turned over with ease. She was face down and ass up, spreading her butt cheeks so she could offer up her rear hole to her captor:

A thick plastic dick split apart Astrid’s tight ass cheeks. As much as she may dominate her elven lovers, Astrid suddenly became a natural orc bottom.

“Elf my bitch!” The orc shouted.

The pace of the ass fucking was intense from the start. It revved up second by second. Faster and fasted the orc woman went until the sound of flesh smacking off flesh echoed throughout the room.

“Elf love it up butt!”

“Yes, I do!”

The orc woman smacked her submissive elven whore who wailed in response!

“Your cock is so deep inside!” Astrid shouted.

A thunderous laugh escaped the orc woman’s lips. As the laughter poured out she smacked the hell out of Astrid’s ass.

Tristabelle said deep down all elven girls love submitting, and there was nothing more submissive than having anal sex with an orc.

The moaning elven slut thought that if the woman buggered her ass any harder it might be hard to sit for the next few days.

“Ass bounce!” The orc lady shouted as she punished Astrid’s royal ass with slaps. The princess’ healthy cheeks jiggled with each slap. Even more pleasing to the orc was the firm smacking sound that echoed throughout the room.

The mighty orc launched blows all across Astrid’s lovely ass, so every inch was used and abused.

“Orc train elf to be good bitch!” The orc woman boasted.

“Fuuuuuucckkk!” Astrid shouted like a mindless beast as the woman drove into her with even greater power.

Using a powerful grip, the orc woman twisted Astrid over so that the Princess was sitting on top of her in the cowgirl position.

Astrid was doing all the work while the orc just laid there and soaked in the beautiful sight of the anal penetration. But the Princess didn’t care. She was just pleased to slam up and down on the mighty strap on. Her needy ass was more than welcoming to the invading toy. She felt her whole body vibrate from pleasure from the buggering she was giving herself.

Cum spewed from Astrid’s pussy and her purple eyes began rolling back and forth. For the moment it felt like Astrid’s calling in life was to be an orc’s bitch.

“Elf cum for me! Elf good girl!”

Astrid came again, soaking the bed in cum.

“Oink?”

Astrid thought she heard an oink. Thought she heard the orc woman scream. Thought she saw the orc woman hurriedly run away from a pig. She thought she was here to save someone.

She Remembered! She was!

“Tristabelle!” Astrid yelled over the sound of marching pigs.

***

“Mercy!” Tristabelle wailed, as she felt like a mountain was pounding her. “I love it, I love it, I love it! ” She declared in her sluttiest voice possible while the King fucked her.

“Slutty princess can’t control herself!” The Queen shouted.

“Oink! Oink!” Tristabelle exclaimed, unable to control the shameful oinking noise she made when she was genuinely being pleasured.

“Little princess is little piggy!” Gretawuld decided as she fondled Tristabelle’s huge knockers. The orc queen made silly oinking noises before she engulfed Tristabelle’s globes with her mouth.

“Oink! Oink!” Tristabelle bellowed again, unable to control herself. At this rate, she was sure to come!

Gretawuld had a good hearty laugh at the Princess who oinked. But poor Tristabelle simply can’t help herself. The deeper he plundered her the louder she oinked

He certainly did not make love to her. No tenderness. No romance for a princess. He fucked her like they were animals.

“OweIiieee!” The tramp wailed most shamefully! The orc king’s member had reached her tummy! The bastard left it in her stomach! He held it there so long the dizzied girl thought she was pregnant!

“Princess nasty bitch!” Gretawuld shouted as if it were a rare and unique observance.

Tristabelle was accorded the treatment of a nasty bitch and bent over by the King. A helping of spit from Gretawuld fell onto her crack. She shuddered. It was a pool of spittle for a lot of dick. Dick that passed through her ring to draw a …

“OOOOOINK” out of her. She loved it. She loved the expanding of her butt to accommodate a literal monster. She loved the pain that shot through her like white-hot heat.

Her tongue was wagging like a bitch in heat. This was a primal, ancient need, this stuffing of her rear end.

The cruel king  gave her a spanking just for the fun of it and to see that booty jiggle for him. At that point, the princess lost further semblance of self control. She bellowed hysterically as her  great and powerful king increased the battering of her ass. He even went as far as to tug on her golden locks,

“Oh please, oh please, oh please,” She whined.

He kept fucking the slutty princess until the sound of his thighs crashing against her flesh was as loud as her groaning. And all the while he kept tugging on her hair, snapping her neck back.

 

“Bounce for king!” Gretawuld demanded as Princess Tristabelle was forced into an anal cowgirl setup.

The King briefly bounced her and down like a puppet, before growling, “Bounce, slutty princess!”

Within moments the orcs had Princess Tristabelle bouncing like a good slut. Oh, they were full of praises for their conquest who shamelessly bounced her ass on an orc’s penis.

The orcs lived to sodomize submissive elves and it was worth celebrating when an ass whore would help you fuck them. It was a rare enough treat to fuck an elf for an orc. But to have one fuck herself on orc dick was a moment worth note!

“Ohhhhh bury that tool in me, my great and wonderful king!”

Tristbelle’s orc mistress latches onto her slut’s slender hips and began bouncing her  up and down and impaling Tristabelle’s most private hole on her own husband.

“Oh good heavens! Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!” The princess yelled.’

The slutty princess gazed around to get the reactions that were rather positive. The queen’s nipples were hard and the king kept thrusting upwards along with her bouncing. But poor Tristabelle had nearly been reduced to tears due to her devastating need to cum like a slut with a dick in her ass.

“Yes, yes, fill my bum!”

The cock thrashed in Princess Tristabele’s tight sweet ass. The well firmed piece of ass barely could fit the gigantic meat that invaded it. But she braved it. She had to. She needed it as bad as she needed any dick before.

Princess Tristabelle sodomized herself over and over again screaming, “Yes, your majesty, thrust your mighty saber up my bum!”

Her tight ass went a series of jumps made all the more ridiculous by her savage thrusts downwards. These were greeted by the king’s own billows upwards. The horny tramped whipped her head around, lips pouring out unladylike grunts. The only thing that would make this better to the slutty princess would be if she had a dick crammed in her mouth.

“Ah yes, master, give it to me!” Princess Tristabelle hollered.

The mighty king rested his gigantic hands on the sexy princess’ slender waists. He had to be careful as his strength was enough to crush her bones through her thin body. While the princess’ tits heaved and ho’ed, Greatwuld watched with the thought that Princess Tristabelle was the perfect elf specimens. She was tall, leggy, had a slender waist and claimed giant knockers. More than that she was a good submissive bitch.

The Princess was turned onto her stomach where the King slammed her with every ounce of strength in his mammoth body. He had never in all his years fucked someone with such raw disgusting force. Not even Gretawuld could lay claim to being buggered like this. He pounded her slutty ass so hard her eyes bulged from her skull. The heat of delicious, wild bliss passed over her. It had her screaming far louder than she ever thought she could.

“I implore you, my king, bum fuck me hard!”

“Fuck slutty princess hard!” Queen Gertawuld cheered.

The King powered short sharp thrusts into Princess Tristabelle’s bum. Then he pressed pace giving Tristabelle the sensation she was being gored by a rhino. The helpless elf was so horny she tried to hammer her toned ass back at him. But even elves had their limits and she soon collapsed in exhaustion.

It was a few seconds after she collapsed that the great and mighty King let out a booming shout. As his roar filled his throne room his seed filled the princess’ rear. She, herself, let out a scream as pleasure struck her with the suddenness of a whip’s crack.

“Oink!”

“Oink!”

“Oink!”

It took the orcs a moment to realize those pig noises weren’t coming from the elf. They were coming from actual pigs.

“Invasion! Invasion!” They heard a female voice scream.

“Werepigs!” Another voice boomed.

This was all the orc Queen and King needed to enter battle mode and retreat from sex mode. Tristabelle watched in annoyance as the King took up his huge club from behind his throne while Gretawuld grabbed an ax from the wall

Together they sped out the room with Tristabelle yelling, “There are no such things as werepigs!”

Bothered, dismayed and confused, Tristabelle threw on her bikini. She exited the throne room to a hallway of oinking and the clashing of weapons. But her only interest was the armor clad warrior she bumped into.

“Astrid!”

“I found you!” Astrid announced with a smile.

“Are you responsible for the werepigs?”

“Idual the troll is. Along with a troupe of prisoners eager to save their head from the axe. Why is your hair so messy? Why are you covered in sweat? Tristabelle do not tell me…”

“Why is your hair so messy?” Tristabelle retorted. “Why are you covered in sweat?” Astrid, do not tell me…”

“Very well. I will tell you nothing and you may tell me nothing. I do hope you learned something from this ordeal.”

“I have. I wish to take an orc as a lover.”

“No.”

“Several..”

“No.”

“At the same time.”

“We are packing you off to Antarctica.

 

Miss Golden Land Part 2

, ,

Princess Astrid Elvrina,

It was called the Heartbeat. The room where Elvrina kings and queens across time made the decisions that pumped life into the earth.

There was an archway of carved marble, decorated with bioluminescent vines. Gargoyles that could spring to life on command framed the entrance. It was a spacious room with floor to ceiling windows. In front of those windows, the lights of Alfheim sparkled and dazzled. Except for the red and orange ones. Those were the fires of orc effigies burned by a wrathful populace.

King Fenrisson stood with his blue eyes transfixed on the Queen Ariel Aqua Dome, the building itself forming the shape of a siren’s tail. His thin lips that rested above a granite chin produced a small smile.

At what he was smiling about his eldest daughter could not fathom.

The healing sorcerers preached visualization. Use the mind persistently to create a desirable reality. And so Astrid pictured a world and life where her sister, Tristabelle, was free from the orcs. But to think of that she had to think of her youngest sister in captivity. That was an image that accused her of failure. It was an image she wanted to shred with Pendulum, her mighty sword.

King Fenrisson shook his head, sending strands of molten silver flying about before they settled over his sheer unbuttoned shirt. His body was corded with muscle making him look even more robust than the perpetually young pure elves had any right to look.

Astrid spoke softly, “They say a kingdom without its bright eyes is blind.”

Her father didn’t speak for a very long time. When he did, he did not bother to look at Astrid, “Was that meant to be clever?”

Astrid cut in front of her father and the aqua dome. How stern a face he had. This couldn’t be the world he had in mind when he was a child, two brothers removed from the throne.

“Mother is sick.”

“Mothers worry.”

“And fathers act. Forgive me, father, but I do not see you acting.”

“Tristabelle often gets herself captured .”

Father was right. It wasn’t the first time Tristabelle had beencaptured, but this time mocked Astrid with a cynical cackle.

The King went on, “Your youngest sister is quite determined to be headstrong and foolish.”

Frustration steamed in Astrid like a witch’s hideous cauldron

“Orcs have captured her,” Astrid noted, strain heavy in her voice.

“Then she should consider herself lucky. My headstrong father burned with my elder brothers.”

The orcs lived underground—underground where screams were louder, where fires were hotter, where blades were sharper.

“You want to teach her a lesson, but this is not the proper class.”

“I decide that.”

Astrid repressed a frown. Her father was fond of hard lessons. Lessons that might leave scars were elves not so durable.

Tristabelle’s haughty nature put her in constant danger of her father’s lesson. Tonight the danger would be realized.

Astrid stomped to the door, catching herself between the gargoyles. She might need them.

“Where are you going?” The King asked, staring at one of the fires.

Astrid thought of her 14th birthday. When she claimed she did not fear death when her father took her to fight a troll with a poorly crafted spear.

“I am going to save my fucking sister.”

***

It did not smell.

Cristobal Schwanhild assured Krisdane and Tristabelle that the underground smelled of pig feces and blubber. But to Tristabelle it smelled rather plain. Perhaps this was added by the fact the goblin body in her cell had decomposed to remain only a skeleton.

Orcs were fond of snacking on goblins and imps, which witches claimed is what led to their ornery personality. Tristabelle was a lady with a lady’s personality and would not succumb to feasting on goblins no matter the instructions her stomach gave her.

That was why she spat back at the small for an orc monster who tried to feed her fried imp nose. With her wrists chained to the wall, she was at the mercy of the orcs’ service. It was a mercy and service she wanted nothing to do with.

The orc, not getting the hint, picked the morsel back up to refeed Tristabelle. Again he got a wad of spit in the eye. Though he didn’t mind as his unblinded eye could still soak in her busty bikini-clad body.

The orc Queen had been so fond of Tristabelle’s scantily clad appearance she ordered she remained in it as chained. Thus Tristabelle’s jumbos were almost entirely on display for every orc to see. And many orcs wanted to see the busty princess.

This one orc, who Tristabelle figured for a teenager, reached out for her left globe. He was expecting a handful of royal goodness. Instead, he got punted in the jaw by the princess.

“Hands to yourself, troglodyte!” Tristabelle snapped.

Her demand elicited immediate tears from the teenage orc. Orcs were known for their grand displays of emotion, unable to practice even basic emotional control.

“But, I want to touch pretty princess.” The orc blubbered.

“Well, too bad!” She snapped back as she ogled her massive tits.

Tristabelle heard drumming, a steady aggressive beat typical to orc music. The orcs did so love drumming, marking them perhaps as the instruments’ most talented players.

Her surroundings were marked by jagged walls whose stone was streaked with silver and bars she swore she could break through if only she could be free of her shackles.

“I shall not end my days molested and eaten like a common goblin.”

The orc didn’t care what she had to say. The goon just leered at knockers. The poor clod reached out to touch them but hurriedly drew his hand back at the flashing of her teeth.

Most supernaturals claimed lustier personalities than their human counterparts. The orcs were known for a rather remedial sort of lust for the flesh of the beautiful. Especially when that flesh was the flesh of a toned and fit elven woman. Given their existing lack of emotional control, a pretty woman or handsome male in the case of the females sent them into a whirlwind of erotic glee

It said that the original Lady Chevalthorn, the founder of the witch school by the same name, created a spell that subdued orcs by lulling them into a trance with visions of naked elven babes. If only Tristabelle had access to that famed witch, who passed centuries ago!

Like most of her spells, that spell had never been able to be replicated. Attempts to control orcs had been made over the years with varying success. A brothel in Alfheim boasted an orc whore who Tristabelle swore her brother Rodgir regularly visited, Clan Liselotte used orc guards for their jails much to the woe of inmates. Still, Clan Londoff found problems using them for their hockey team when their orc goalie ate a dwarven referee alive.

Tristabelle thought to the orc guards of Clan Liselotte, how she overhead one Hildegarde palace’s guards complain how easy it was to bribe and fool the orcs. With these orcs, it would be better to exert one’s words rather than one’s sword skills.

“Dear fellow, I do apologize for my rudeness.”

The orc blinked back his shock.

“Pretty princess say sorry?”

Tristabelle nodded then went on, “Let us be friends and make merry! Why I have never made an orc friend before.”

“Pretty princess and orc become friends?”

“I can only imagine the joys we might share. Me introducing you to the joys of thefudge brownie and you introducing me to the joy of errrm fudge goblin scrotum. Delightful!”

“Delightful?”

Tristabelle’s cupid bow lips formed a huge smile, “Delightful! I can just taste the deliciousness of the fudged scrotum. Can you not?”

“Me can!”

“Then you must free me so that we may properly hug. All friendships are cemented with a hug!”

“A hug?”

“Or in my brother Rodigr’s case three gold pieces and the absence of venereal disease. Now free me so that we may hug.”

The easily tricked orc unhooked a set of keys from a belt that contained a few pieces of skulls on it. After fumbling with the wrong key three times, he finally found the right one to unshackle the pretty princess.

This was to his suffering as Tristabelle rocked him in the nose with the hardest punch she could manage.

“Pretty princess hit me!” He wailed.

Tears streamed down the orcs face, falling into pools on the gnarled stone floor. There was no sympathy from Tristabelle, who went across his face with her elbow.

“Pretty princess keep hitting me!” He blubbered, eyes now red from crying.

Tristabelle didn’t want to summon Mistlewoe and end this lamentable orc’s life. There was no desire in her heart for killing such an outmatched foe. She knew her brothers wouldn’t have held such qualms. But Tristabelle was her own woman. A gentler woman.

A gentler woman who stomped the teenage orc in the testicles.

Three times.

But that was better than a sword through the bowels or through the eyes she surmised.

With her guard a quivering mound of tears and green flesh, Tristabelle took hold of his keys. It took her far less time than he to find the right key. With that key she unlocked the rickety doors that separated her from freedom.

Unfortunately, what now separated her from freedom was an arms folded Gretawuld and a retinue of guards.

***

One rarely wagered against King Fenrisson.

The King would level grossly punitive terms on the loser.

The risks often outweighed the reward.

But inspired by the tale of Alexander The Great and Bucephalus, a twelve year old Astrid had bet her father she could beat him in a Pegasus race. Victory would earn her a Pegasus, and a loss would ground her for life.

Queen Brunhilde told the King not to torment the poor girl, who only knew of Pegasus riding through the theories written by the late King Strahl Elvrina. But this was one of those lessons King Fenrisson was fond of teaching. However, on that bright sunny Autumn day, Astrid taught her father a valuable lesson in humility and Pegasus riding when she beat him in a race.

She soared out the sky stable behind Hildegarde palace on Bucci’s back. She couldn’t name him Bucephalus because she kept misspelling it. So Bucci it was. He was smaller than most Pegasus with a white coat, golden rings, and blue eyes that the peasants swore smoked. That earned Bucci the nickname Hel’s Vengeance, an ill fit for its docile personality.

A more whimsical rumor that circulated through the taverns was that Astrid’s saddle was blessed by Aphrodite and provided sexual jollity to the rider. That was far from true. Astrid was just sensitive to air turbulence and made the mistake of informing the wrong, i.e. Maggie, sister.

Astrid soared above Elvheim, the capital city of Golden Land. The city was vibrant, colorful, and loud. Most of the buildings were bulky and squared, punctuated by some form of ornamentation. There was the occasional moving advertisement, powered by aura stones, that Astrid enjoyed flying through.

The ride was bumpy, heaving Astrid up and down and maybe sort of kind of sending jolts of pleasure through her. In fact, Astrid stopped gritting her teeth in anger and started passing moans through her lips. As usual, the blasts of joy to her sex almost took her off the saddle they were so powerful.

That damn Maggie said Astrid provided the gods a peep show with the panting in pleasure, fondling herself, and wearing her “bikini barbarian” armor. Astrid was famed for wearing a corset that left her tatas overflowing out the top, with her panties cut into slits only covering the best part, while a g-string split her toned and muscular ass, and she wore heeled boots. Thus Maggie probably had a point.

King Fenrisson had castigated Lord Antigar Falk, who had sworn to oversee all the forts guarding the entryway to the underground. That was not entirely fair of the King, who had demanded the impossible. The orcs had several access ports they could sneak in and out of, oft aided by the trolls who enjoyed watching a society in turmoil.

Any society for that matter. Which meant Astrid might find a troll to grant her passage so long as it tossed the orcs’ existence into chaos.

Lord Antigar had communicated by a magic mirror that the Falks’ swords were sworn to punishing the orcs. But King Fenrisson ordered him to sheathe his blade and simply raise his shield unless he make a further fool of himself.

So Astrid took a totally not pleasurable ride to the Black Boa bridge, a bridge north of Alfheim. It was designed by a snake collecting dwarves to look like a boa constrictor. Passage over the bridge had been cut in recent elven years due to the closure of the Snake Pit MMA fighting arena that laid a few clicks down the road. The absence of passersby bred neglect in maintenance. Neglect in a bridge’s maintenance delivered a perfect home for a troll.

Idual “The Serpent Troll” had seized on the citizenry’s neglect

Trolls on average stood no higher than 3 feet tall, but Idul stood 3’4, a height he was proud of and enhanced even more with boots. No other troll wore boots! This was a troll who had achieved something! His brown hair was spiked in all directions, some falling to cover part of his enormous ears. His three fingers were picking through the remains of his dinner, a small deer.

“Idual.”

The troll sucked on a bone and paid the princess no mind.

That only etched a frown on Astrid’s face.

“A pity I will have to lose an arrow through your eye.”

The troll’s beady eyes blink backed shock, “A mean woman who deals only in misery! That is Princess Astrid.”

“Then we have something in common. You are a mean beast who deals only in misery.”

“Idual adds levity to Golden Land! Idual is a student of mischief.”

“You sell yourself short, Idual. You’re a master of mischief. You somehow used fire messages to convince Lord Falk that Brayburn Chevalthorn had insulted his daughter’s honor leading to a fight where Lord Folk took off Brayburn’s right hand.”

“Do not forget Idual launched a parade of chickens in Viblain under the Falk name to question Brayburn’s courage.”

Idual picked up a tankard of ale and chugged down to celebrate his masterful trolling.

Astrid gave a small smile, “It is precisely that dedication to trolling that makes me require your help.”

Idual picked his nose as trolls were wont to do when they were confused.

“My sister, Tristabelle, has been kidnapped by the orc queen, Gretawuld.”

Idual ate whatever he found in his nose as trolls were wont to do when they were deep in thought.

He spoke after licking his lips, “Gretawuld is dangerous business.”

“I know she is dangerous. But it is my job as a sister to fight for Tristabelle. I need your help to get her back. You know how to get to the orcs’ city, Ormr. You have been, have you not?”

“Idual has been and been punished!” He shifted about to showcase a scar that ran from his right shoulder blade all the way down to his tailbone. “Queen Gretawuld is a dangerous business. More dangerous than the King, Ormar.”

“I see you are scared,” Astrid noted, reaching out to pat Idual on the shoulder. “But do you not hunger for revenge? What you can do to the orcs is far greater than what anyone else can. They can fight anyone, steal anything, but frankly, they are not smart enough to counter the work of the master of mischief.”

“They hurt Idual.” The troll whined as he rubbed his eyes.

Trolls were not known for bravery. Quite the opposite. When faced with retaliation for their actions, they oft were reduced to tearful beggars, pleading for mercy. But Astrid could tell Idual had a certain sense of pride and a definite lack of humility.

“You can not let them bully you into cowardice. You must strike back. If you can not tame the orc aggression, you will gain a reputation. You will become a mockery amongst all the species of Golden Land. You will have destroyed yourself.”

Idual ate a particularly large bogger as he nodded thoughtfully, “Idual not wishing to be destroyed! Idual must become a legendary troll. He must, he must. One all species write about until forever! Idual help.”

Astrid’s wide lips formed a grand smile, and her purple eyes sparkled.

 

Miss Golden Land Part 1

, , ,

“Oohohoho!” Princess Tristabelle Elvrina exclaimed to her dwarven retainer Mister Stumplebottom and her wheelchair-bound sister, Princess Constantina

“Is the princess happy?” Mister Stumplebottom asked from the side of the lady finishing the curls on Tristabelle’s hair. His stocky figure was attired in a purple robe to match his purple beard.

“So long as I am declared Miss Golden peace in the earth realm is assured.” Tristabelle declared, puffing out her massive chest which was covered by an off the shoulder purple gown finished with sequins and crystals. It was designed by a 745 year old vampire, Tristabelle’s favorite designer.

“You do look decidedly perfect,” Constantina complimented. “I had not thought you could outshine your everyday beauty. But you have!”

The pageant was minutes from starting, and the princess’ hair had been fussed over in a dressing room lined with mirrors and lit by yellow aura stones that lit the almond set eyed princess an elegant aura.

The hair fairy with her glittering yellow wings nodded with a smile. Though Mister Stumplebottom just scratched his beard. His father had seen Queen Brunhilde win Miss Golden Land those ninety human years ago and drank himself out of a retainer job at the celebration. Peace wasn’t granted to the earth realm then, but as Mister Stumplebottom’s father said, jaws across Golden Land dropped when the queen modeled her swimsuit to secure victory

“Your sister, Maggie, might win.” The hair fairy noted.

“If she does I shall be happy for her,” Tristabelle claimed, admiring herself in the mirror. “But if someone who is not an Elvrina should win I shall be the saddest I have been since I saw that leprechaun fall penis first into the wood chipper.”

“Indeed, that was a bad birthday party for you.” Constantina lamented.

A female elf with a large red mohawk poked her head into the dressing room and announced, “Princess Tristabelle, please make your way towards the stage.”

“Ah, it is time to lay claim to the ruby tiara!” The princess exclaimed. “May Frejya bless the judges with the truth of my beauty, and may Hel curse the ones who deem me ugly with anal rot.”

***

The pageant occurred in Gladsheim the city controlled by Clan Schwanhild inside the House of Honor. The House of Honor once held the seats of the twelve gods. Yet today it held a rabid audience of vampires, dwarves, witches, sorcerers, werewolves, and fairies. All were gathered to crown the hundredth Miss Golden Land.

The judges sat on stone seats that upheld columns that encircled the room and stood beside pillars of green flames as created by fire sorcerers.

A good bet to seal the win was on two-time winner pure elf Svetvina Londoff of Clan Londoff, a towering brunette elf. Svetvina, last year’s winner, entered first as live music was sung by a black-haired  siren at the top of the stage to a mix of EDM by a vampiric DJ.

“Ladies and gentlemen, supernatural friends,” A dwarven host named Artimfild bellowed. His beard was the envy of all dwarves as it reached down to his shins. “May The Allfather be with us for the hundredth annual Miss Golden Land!”

Rabid applause sped across the audience. Many hooted, and many hollered as 16 evening gowned ladies arrived on the scene, including Princess Maggie and Princess Tristabelle. The beauties were as diverse as the audience, featuring pure elves such as the royals, vampires, witches, sorcerers, and even a gnome named Dia

Every woman introduced themselves with the royals coming at the end.

“I’m Princess Magalinda!” Maggie announced, beneath a glittering red witch hat. “It rhymes with Saggy Brenda, and Hag Agenda, it’s Magalinda!”

Most everyone was confused by that introduction, but Maggie’s cult following sounded their approval for her quirky intro.

Getting a hard stare from Svetvina, Tristabelle went last, “I am Princess Tristabelle Elvrina! Let the humans have their Golden Globe awards. For we know my golden globes shall win me Miss Golden Land!” Tristabelle announced while shaking her titanic tits. With milk wagons that big it’s a wonder she didn’t fall over!

That got a whooping cheer from the audience.

“Good citizens of Golden Land, good visitors from the world beyond,” Artimfild shouted over the audience. “Who will be this year’s Miss Golden Land? We can only leave it in the capable hands of our grand judges and you the beautiful audience.”

 

***

After the evening gown contest concluded it was time for the talent portion of the event. The audience was treated to a siren’s song, a werewolf’s epic poem, Dia throwing axes three times her weight, Svetvina juggling flaming swords…and then there was Maggie’s…

“For my talent, lovely people, I shall pull a rabbit from a hat!” She beamed, attired in bell-bottomed pink pants, and golden tube top with the dancing lady of the Elvrina’s on the front. “But not just any rabbit! I’m not just any girl, after all! I am the Fluffy Bunny and I’m pulling a GOLDEN bunny out the hat. You heard right, a golden bunny! And to help me will be one of you, the people!”

Maggie settled entirely too fast on a pure elf woman in the front row who looked like she would rather be anywhere else. Her purple eyes were clear and expressive, she had a slightly visible cleft in her chin,  wide upward turning lips, and blond hair done in a ponytail. Her dress seemed to defy the purpose of wearing clothing as the crisis cross top exposed her toned stomach and large juggies who’s nipples poked through the fabric.

“You there, person I have never met before! Cone  join me!”

Disguising her sister in a blond wig did not help Maggie hide the fact she was getting help from her eldest sister, Princess Astrid.

The elder princess got up with a hand wave to the audience who were polite enough to pretend Maggie had tricked them.

Once she reached the stage, giving viewers a delectable view of her legs in a side slit mini skirt,  Astrid put on her fakest smile and waited for her sister to begin.

“Magikadabra, assistant! Now isn’t this the biggest thrill you’ve ever had? To be on stage with the Fluffy Bunny.”

“…..Yes.”

“And aren’t I the prettiest future witch in all the whole wide world?”

“….Yes.”

“Are you ready to be amazed?”

“….Yes.”

“Then hold this top hat, lady who I have never met before in my life.”

“….Fine.”

Maggie shoved the top hat into Astrid’s hands, who gritted her teeth while trying to smile at the same time.

Maggie produced a magic wand, then began swinging it through the air, while putting on a jazz dance for whatever reason, “Jazz hands make the world go round! Now Maggiekadraba, Awesomekazam, golden bunny please be mine!”

The hat leaped from Astrid’s hands, putting a stern, furrowed brow look of distrust on the eldest princess’ face. When the hat started vibrating as if it were in the throes of an earthquake her fists clenched. When furry white hands with lengthy black claws stuck their way out the hat, she jumped in front of her sister. When those white hands showed themselves to be attached to what looked like a bodybuilder adorned in white fur, black nose and bunny ears Astrid was already springing to action.

“A wererabbit!” Maggie shouted. “I’m a mega magical prodigy!”

Maggie began bowing to a stunned (not in a good way) audience, as her sister ducked a punch from the wererabbit. Astrid swung her body behind the beast, while at the same encircling her arms around its waist. As it hollered in anger and distress, Astrid flung it backward and dropped it directly on its neck, earning a satisfying and neck bending crunch.

That met with a heartfelt, and an appreciative round of applause that Maggie, of course, thought were for her. They might have been because the audience could see up Astrid’s skirt and she wasn’t wearing panties.

A roar came up, mighty and booming. It caused Maggie to state, “Yes, yes, the Maggie Movement sweeps across Golden Land!”

But that roar came from the wererabbit who popped up off the ground and into a position that showed he was itching for a fight.

And fight he did swinging a looping fist at Astrid. Astrid “Iron Wings” ducked his punch then leaped upwards to nail him in the chin with her wig covered head.

“Oooooh!” the enthralled crowd reacted.

The wererabbit staggered backward, blood spilling from his mouth. In a flash, Astrid had hold of his fluffy ears. She brought down his head and buried her knee into his face with such ferocity the face breaking sound could be heard in Valhalla.

Astrid shook her head in dismay as the leader of the “Maggie Movement” continued to bask in unearned adulation.

 

***

 

“For Princess Tristabelle’s talent,” Artimfild boomed, “We will witness her championship skating ability.”

A teenage ice sorcerer with bright blue eyes stood on stage, attired in a suit that matched his eyes with runic script written in white across the blazer. He shot his hands forward and began to spew a white frost from them. Brilliant and bold crystals began to lather the stage in ice as if it were put there by mother earth. After the surface was covered in ice in wh the audience gave a polite round of applause.

Then an ethereal sounding EDM opera came to life, its female vocals almost hypnotizing the crowd into a sweetened lull. They were shocked to awareness by the sudden driving of a hard guitar that heralded the arrival of Princess Tristabelle. The youngest Elvrina princess was adorned in a blue mini dress that held swaying sleeves over her arm.

She sashayed to the front of the stage, coming so close to the edge the fans in the front row reached to catch her. But instead of falling, she whirled backward towards center stage. Once she hit her mark she took off from the back edge of her skate in a twisting jump then came down on the back outside edge of her opposite foot. A confident smile flashed across her face as she whipped about the stage backward before turning through the air to repeat her previous jump two times in a row.

Such a marvelous display of athleticism brought several fans to their feet in an ovation. They stayed on their feet, wowed by the princess flinging herself through the air and tossing herself head over heels. Much to everyone’s amazement and delight she came down onto her feet then immediately brought herself into a sitting spin.

As the opera boomed overhead with a mix of heavy drums and anthemic vocals Tristabelle glided across the stage. Her sleeves swayed like grass in the wind, and her dress rode up high giving a well-strategized show off her muscular legs and toned booty. To show off that tight ass, even more, Tristabelle glided to the front of the stage on one leg, letting her other leg trail up and behind her to pull her dress up. Drool fell from the mouths of many. Some had to recite knightly tournament stats to take their mind of her heavenly booty lest they erupt in their seats. The slutty princess certainly didn’t help them as she bent over to show a sweet camel toe,

Finally, she finished by whipping her entire body backward and overhead. It was a tumble even a vampire would struggle to land. But land this elf did, settling onto her skates, then dropping to her knees with her cupid’s bow lips forming a brilliant and cocky smirk.

The audience couldn’t contain themselves. Every single one rose to their feet and let their voices be heard. This was a performance for the ages, and they hailed it as such. The recipient of this love took bows and accepted flowers with genuine and profuse gratitude.

***

The make a wish event was next, where the contestants would speak their one wish.

Svetvina hoped for, “I wish all weapons were eliminated from the world. For weapons allow the heartless to kill those with heart.” An interesting wish considering her family has investments in several Dwarven smithies.

Dia wished, “I wish that everyone could have height positivity. And that my husband wouldn’t keep the cookies on the top shelf!”

The 273 year old vampire who looked like a sixty year old wished, “I wish everyone who had their foot on the accelerator would step on the brakes and stop and breathe.”

Maggie wished for volunteers for her “Mega Magical Miracle Muscle Builder” potion, promising elite gains in six weeks with only a 45% chance of contracting rabies.

Tristabelle stepped forward to wish, “I wish that for every time a child sees a wyvern, or a troll, or an ogre, they would see a rainbow, or a kelpie, or a fairy. That instead of waking up and wondering if their village might be attacked by ghouls or the undead they might wonder if they’ll see a pixie fluttering through the air.”

 

***

The swimsuit contest, a long time favorite of the audience and viewers was the next competition. Svetvina was sure she had this one won. Surely she could beat the gnome in glossy blue school girl swimsuit. She modeled it with casual dignity, simply turning around for all to see her lovely figure.

Maggie was tougher competition in pink witch hat, with her classically large Elvrina funbags behind a boob window of a pink top, and juicy butt behind clad a ruffled white skirt that was just short enough to see a camel toe.

But Svetvina did not count on Princess Tristabelle’s starry slingshot bikini. The Princess known as The Bright-Eyed pranced onto the stage, jiggling her jumbos with each peppy step. She settled on center stage and smiled at the audience who were stilled in awe by her skimpy beauty. One teenage elf sat in frozen open-mouthed shock. The busty babe threw class out the window and jiggled her flesh pillows to the whooping delight of the audience. She seemed to be struggling to keep the sweater meat inside the skimpy strips of fabric in a rather over the top manner. But the best came when the lusted after royal skank slowly, so teasingly slowly bent over. Her hands found her slender ankles and her deliciously hard ass showed she was wide open for business….

 

“What princess wants,” Tristabelle said in a sultry voice. “Princess gets. And what princess wants is YOU! Tee-heh!”

Boners popped up around the building. Home viewers went rushing for the baby oil. The teen in the front row was frozen in shock.

“Princess Tristabelle The Bright Eyed,” The host announced, while leering at her thonged rear end. “And now we come to the runners up of Miss Golden! All ladies dazzled and amazed. It was truly a tough decision for our esteemed panel of judges. How could anyone pick between these beauties? Or judges did.”

A romantic song with a dynamic tempo and intense emotional expression arrived in the auditorium. It stirred an already excited audience.

“Runner up number two…who thinks they know who it is? A special cheer to anyone who guesses Dia!”

The upbeat gnome immediately began crying tears of joy. Dia could scarcely stop sobbing as her trembling body was outfitted with her sash.”

“A fool,” The host started, “Scowls at the winner from his second-place podium, a wise person smiles at all those who stand behind him. Our first runner up has the smile to melt hearts….Miss Svetina Romakiss of Clan Romakiss!”

Svetina wore a smile that was very much not a smile. It was reminiscent of Astrid’s, her face stiffened, her jaw set. She accepted the runner up sash with all the joy of someone accepting a marriage proposal from a pig.

“And our winner, our stunning, beautiful winner, our Miss Golden Land of this year…she is the one and only The Bright Eyed Princess Tristabelle Elvrina!”

Joy rooted in an immense shock came over Tristabelle who emitted a squeal of glee. She was soon tangled in a hug from Maggie, who joined in with the roaring crowd to hail her win.

Tristabelle tried to relax but couldn’t calm her exuberant emotions. Especially when she saw Astrid standing and smiling. Tristabelle dropped her need to appear refined and hugged Maggie back.

The sash was presented to her and the happiness again rushed her like a bull. She saw her sister, Constantina applauding off stage and gave her a bright smile.

Artimfild held his microphone in front of The Bright Eyed, which forced her to pause to collect herself. Finally she said, “Well judges you have assured yourself avoidance of the headsman’s axe,” The audience laughed. “Truly this is an honor of all honors. What an amiable feeling I have! I dedicate this victory to my dear friend Heidi, who disappeared three elven months ago. Being with her was the happiest I have ever been without spilling a drop of blood.”

Suddenly a burs .of white shimmering light appeared above Tristabelle. It rained down rainbow-colored sparks, showering Tristabelle in a deluge of colors.

Audience members leaned forward, murmured and watched with intense stares at the rainbow storm of beautiful sparks.

Finally a heavy, a booming voice captured the awe of everyone in the auditorium, “Princess Tristabelle, I am The All Father. I have been with the Elvrinas and Golden Land since I lifted Golden Land out of the sea. “Your family is all that stands before doom and the earth realm. This sword is a marvel. Those who wielded it passed a holy test.  You and only you are worthy enough to carry its legacy. You shine bolder than the sun. Sparkle greater than the stars. As the fairest princess of the Elvrinas take the sword Mistlewoe, crafted out the same mistletoe that slew the god Balder. Take it and aid your family in saving the earth. You are it’s only hope.”

As if giving birth, the cloud of white and it’s rainbow sparks spewed forth a true piece of otherworldy majesty. All around the auditorium eyes went wide with the appearance of a treasure made of translucent ice. It had veins of the same substance running through it. The hilt of this treasure was made of translucent ice, with veins of the same substance running through it. The pommel or end of the sword was white ice magic crystal. Impossibly, its crossguard was a mind-bending set of wings that flapped the sword into the outstretched hand of Tristabelle.

The audience was raucous with their cheers, letting out a bevy of cheers, and bestowing applause upon the fairest princess in all the land.

The Bright Eyed’s bright eyes beamed nothing but pure joy. A mystical weapon of her own! She would finally join her siblings in possessing a mystical weapon. She could cross swords with bandits, ogres and other villains with confidence and might. Tears of joy strode along her cheeks as Maggie and Astrid and Constantina arrived to embrace her in a hug. It was too much for Tristabelle. Too much to stand and she sank to her knees, laying her sword in front of her.

 

“Pretty, pretty princess,” Came a rough voice. A guttural voice belonging to someone of rudimentary intelligence. The voice created an angry stir amongst the crowd.

“Pretty Princess come with us!” Said a similar voice.

Then they appeared. The hated of the hated. The despised of the despised. Orcs.

A total of eight orcs emerged from each side of the stage. Orcs were a fearsome sight to behold at any moment in Golden Land. But these orcs, standing between 6’8 and 7’0 provided an even higher rush of fear for an audience who never expected them. The orcs were green skinned, bow legged, had tusks protruding from their mouths, wore loin cloth around their groins and boasted heads full of piercings.

“Pretty princess belongs to orc now!” The original speaker claimed.

“Your coming here,” Tristabelle began, “Is the most ill judged thing since Lars The Galor laid with that tavern wench who shape-shifted into a dog during sex.”

“Pendulum!” Astrid boomed. “Now!”

Astrid’s upper arm was engulfed in fire. A fire that twisted towards her raised hand. Once it reached her hand it grew into a sword. Pendulum. The blade within fire. It had two triangular blades that stuck out from its longer main blade. That blade stretched from a hilt covered in fire that could never burn the owner.

“Tristabelle step back.” Astrid ordered. ”You have never fought this many orcs before. And your sword technique could use some polish.”

“Nonsense. Tristabelle-Fu shall win the day!” Tristabelle declared.

There was a rumble from the back of the auditorium. One that was only heard when doors are forced upon by extreme might. After the door toppled to the floor, six more male orcs stepped in being led by a female orc with a crown of thorns. The female orc was a towering, massive figure with shredded muscles that lay behind loincloth bikini top and cloth thonged bottoms. Unlike her male counterparts, her face was that of a comely female, with expressive eyes, black hair that streamed past her shoulders, and a pair of thick pouty lips.

“I am Gretawuld the orc queen and I come to bring pretty princess to my husband!”

“Ha!” Tristabelle exclaimed. “I would rather lay with an exceptionally ugly goat.”

Three vampire knights arrived behind the princesses providing enough backup for Astrid to lead her charge. She slid beneath a swing of a club with a nail in it; then still on the ground, she slashed the orc in the ankle bone. Its howling was shushed by Tristabelle raking Mistlewoe across his throat.

Another orc swung for Astrid with a club, but she swung back to sever his hand from his arm and left him screaming in pain. But the pain just made him angrier and he punched Astrid in the face, sending her flying backward. Amazingly she was able to land on her feet and offer an attack in the form of Pendulum through a rampaging orc’s stomach.

“Tristabelle, stay with me!” Astrid ordered.

But it was too late for that. When Tristabelle heard a child scream from the back row and saw her grabbed by the hair she had to spring into action. She did spring into action, shooting down the aisle, sword stretched forward, carrying herself with a sort of fierce courage. As though she could run down Roman legions.

The child abusing orc was skewered through the heart by The Bright Eyed. The last thing he saw was those Bright Eyes burrowing into his soul with a thick hatred.

“Run away!” Tristabelle ordered the child, who did just that.

“Princess prettier up close,” the orc queen decided. “Make mine and king’s sex slave.”

“Ha! As the Americans would say, that’s crazy wack, b,” Tristabelle retorted.

What truly was crazy were the pair of green tentacles that snaked across Tristabelle’s legs. Before Tristabelle could properly shout, more tentacles were curling around her arms forcing her to drop Mistletwoe

“A shoggoth!” Someone shouted, inciting mass panic. Panic enough to have people racing for the emergency exits. They didn’t even notice an orc turning to stone as he tried to lift Mistlewoe.

Astrid tried to shove past the crowd as her younger sister’s stomach was wrapped in the confines of a tentacle. The eldest Elvrina girl moved aside people who were flowing in the opposite direction with Maggie right behind her.

Beyond this throng of fear the shoggoth, this green tentacled thing, ripped down Tristabelle’s bikini, letting her milk wagons bounce free. The thing circled around her globes, pulling tight at Gretawuld’s nodding.

Tristabelle tried to lower her hand to swat the beast away from her breasts, but her wrist was held firm. This left the shoggoth to twist, knead and grope her tits to Gretawuld’s immense delight. Tristabelle almost felt penetrated in her sex by the orc queen’s stare. It also didn’t help that the monster had tentacles dangerously close to her inner thighs. Then it pressed into her, filling her deliciously tight center.

“Oh! Shocking!” Tristabelle wailed.

The tentacle in her pussy pushed ever deeper, forcing her center passage to widen. As the slutty princess squirmed more and more of the tentacle invaded her,

“Ohhhh so huge!” Tristabelle wailed.

“Hang in there!” Maggie implored.

The movement increased. Hard and fast, almost drawing the breath out of her. If Tristabelle hadn’t been such an experienced tramp she might very well have passed out. Yet this phallus was thicker than any of the many men who had ravaged the princess.

“Astrid, can’t you do something?” Maggie asked.

“I am trying!” Astrid bellowed as she used her sword to remove a hand from an orc’s body.

The dirty princess’ tightness excited the shoggoth. She could feel it in the way it enlarged within her and pumped her faster. She was at it’s mercy as it started to  fuck her mouth. The helpless princess felt reduced to just her pussy and mouth as she became a nesting ground for monster cock.

“Mmmf!” Tristballe mumbled. “Mmmf!”

Her purple eyes bulged wildly as the monster reached to the back of her throat. At the same time Maggie had to be saved from a rushing orc by the beheading swing of Astrid’s Pendulum.

Some orcs were jerking themselves off, leaving fighting off Astrid to their more attentive partners. The orc queen stood with her arms folded, quite satisfied at the predicament she put the youngest Elvrina princess in.

Trisrabelle may have been a princess but she was a queen at dick sucking and instinctively began sucking away. The monster responded with a fervent throat fucking of his big titty captive. So Tristbaelle just went limp, letting her pussy and throat get violated by a pair of thick penis like tentacles. All she did was moan, unable to control her horny dirty nature.

“This is real bad!” Maggie fretted. “Trista B, squirm outta that thing!”

Princess Tristabelle couldn’t control her slutty nature and provided immense pleasure to the monster, swirling her tongue around the taut bulb. That turned it on immensely. It furiously throat fucked the blond twat to the point where she just let it pound her face without her doing anything. Helpless, the princess began drooling all over the pulsating tentacle that pummeled her throat. The only thing the little minx was missing was balls slapping against her chin.

“Mmmfmfm!” Princess Tristabelle wailed.

The big titted blond took it hard and fast in two holes to the delight of Gretawuld. Even her cheeks bulged as the phallus fucking her grew bigger. Now she gagged, a rare action for a super whore like Tristabelle. Like a piston in a machine, the tentacle rammed in out of her drooling mouth. All the while another tentacle was hammering her tiny insides.

“We’re coming, Trista B!” Maggie hollered. But in actuality, they were getting nowhere. And when they did get somewhere their sister, the monster, and the orcs were gone.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

Princess Tristabelle Elvrina Biography

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Name: Tristabelle Elvrina

Nickname: The Bright Eyed

Height: 5’10

Weight: ???

Relations: King Fenrisson (father), Queen Brunhilde (mother), Trygyrr Elvrina (brother), Bernhard Elvrina (brother), Astrid Elvrina (sister), Gorick Elvrina (brother), Rodgir Elvrina (brother),  Magalinda Elvrina (sister), Krisdane Elvrina (brother), Constantina Elvrina (sister)

Likes: Dance, figure skating, combat, the goddess Freyja, Gretawuld the Orc Queen

Dislikes: Brother Gorick, democracy, orcs who aren’t Gretawuld the Orc Queen

Everyone loves a good fairy tale. Do they not? Supernaturals are no exception. Many fairy tales you may know were supernaturals whose deeds were too fantastical for humans to believe. Princess Ariel the mermaid was a Golden Land princess who thanks to the power of magic, grew legs and met her true love, Prince Olan Elvrina, to become queen of Golden Land.

Then we have Princess Tristabelle Elvrina, an eighteen-year old who’s deeds, both martial and sexual, would make even the myth makers raise an eyebrow.

Once upon a time in the kingdom of Golden Land an ice giant crossed the border between the earth realm and the world of fog. The massive beast rampaged through the land, bringing cold and frost wherever he went. Worst yet, he enslaved a good portion of the population and enlisted them in building a ship so that he could cross into mainland Europe and devour the humans.

The giant reached Elvheim, the capital city of Golden Land, for a confrontation with King Fenrisson and his forces. As the battle raged, Queen Brunhilde, who had been pregnant, gave birth to Tristabelle. It is told as Tristabelle opened her bright purple eyes that her father was able to scale the beast and bash his skull in with Rhine Maiden, his war hammer. A druid said Tristabelle’s bright eyes were what saved the kingdom thus earning her the nickname of The Bright Eyed.

A legend was born.

“The Bright Eyed” child became the jewel of the realm. A public relations boom for its monarchy whose popularity had began to wane under a King respected publicly but reviled privately, especially among the other prominent clans.

As Tristabelle grew so did her interests, anything that involved physical activity in particular. In addition to inheriting her mother’s love of dance, Tristabelle developed a fondness for figure skating, excelling at both competitively while generating positive press for the kingdom with her allure. However, nothing captivated her more than the art of war. The ultimate chess match with its live pawns, kings and queens. And who better to learn from than the country’s sharpest mind and fiercest fighter, who just so happened to be two of Tristabelle’s siblings, sister Astrid and brother Gorick. Only there was one problem. Though Astrid had proven to be a great warrior herself, Gorick felt the only sharp object a woman should handle is a knife in the kitchen and thus spurned the offer to teach his sister. Tristabelle refused to take no for an answer, stubbornness being a family trait, and forced Gorick’s hand by enlisting in the service. Unless Gorick wished to neglect his sacred duty as a defender of the realm, he had to share his knowledge.

And with knowledge came power exhibited in the form of psychological and physical abuse. Blood, sweat and tears shed beyond basic training under Gorick’s sadistic command. Nevertheless, Tristabelle pushed ahead, taking to swordplay and military tactics like a fish to water. She also proved to be quite the morale booster, often putting on dance recitals to entertain her fellow neophytes.

In the end Tristabelle erased any doubt whether this figure skating dance queen could turn into a supreme fighting machine. A fact Gorick begrudgingly accepted, but word of Tristabelle’s ruthlessness on the battlefield thawed his icy attitude. Mutual admiration forged in the lamentations of their enemies. Together they’d execute great vengeance upon kingdom foes, tales that reverberated across the supernatural community and chronicled in children’s books and animation for public consumption at home. It was during this period Tristabelle came into possession of her signature weapon Mistlewoe, the sword embodiment of the mistletoe that slew the god Baldr.

The sword historically went to the fairest Elvrina princess. Tristabelle was being crowned Miss Golden Land at the time when Gretawuld The Orc barged into the ceremony and kidnapped Tristabelle. The princess had plenty of issues with orcs, but this time the gods bestowed her Mistlewoe to fight for her freedom. And freedom she did win, but did not leave until Gretawuld gave her the greatest sexual pleasure in all nine realms.

Tristabelle remains a sister of the goddess Freyja, undertaking an oath to always have her in her heart and bring her goodness to the world. As a main means of worship of Freyja is through the erotic arts, Princess Tristabelle is always ready to share Freyja’s grace with the world.

Her sister, Maggie, had remarked, “Tristabelle had  never met a cause she does not take up.” And she hadn’t. .Amid her charitable initiatives, Tristen organized the Elvrina ssisters whipped cream bikini calendar. All proceeds went to saving an endangered species of imp. A woman of great giving, she raised untold gold for nonprofit unicorn stables through the Gunnarsson sisters wet t-shirt photo shoot.

All was well in the land. Little did anyone realize the greatest threat to the monarchy would come from within, as Gorick led the brazen siege of Hildegard Palace. Which, according to rumor and innuendo, Tristabelle rejected the position of Queen in exchange for assistance during the rebellion. Ultimately she was instrumental in thwarting the coup that took the life of her youngest brother Leonhard. Traumatized by the ordeal Tristabelle set off for America, sold back home as going abroad to continue her studies at New York City’s prestigious Hemera University and serve as a goodwill ambassador.

Now Tristabelle’s biggest passion in life is to see justice dealt to her treasonous brother, preferably by the blade of Mistlewoe.

 

Blog, Write Or Die

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I once read a quote that went something along the lines of saying there’s no point in writing a novel unless you must write that book or else go crazy or die. This is how I feel about every piece of writing I have done since high school. I have to write it or I have to die. It may not be good in the end, I may scrap it in the middle, I may finish it then cannibalize it for use in other works. But if I ain’t writing, I’m dying.

I had no choice but to write my first novel.. It was, in fact, the first book I had ever written. Originally it was a movie script that I wrote because if I didn’t write it I would die a horrible, dramatic death. After many painful revisions, rewrites, and ruthless cuts I produced something resembling a decent script. Decent in my mind. But decent in Hollywood’s mind? Well….Getting a producer to buy a script is like getting a Vegan to buy a Big Mac. Try as I might, the big Hollywood checks weren’t coming. My efforts to sell the script resulted only in sorrow and despair.

They didn’t result in me giving up on the story. Unlike other works where I’ve realized their lack of marketability or just knew that only someone in the throes of mania would enjoy them, I knew Splendificent deserved to get a shot with the masses.

My good friend and mentor Melody Jackson suggested I turn my script into a novel. At first I was skeptical, I still had the dream of seeing it on the big screen. Or at least seeing it on my Netflix watchlist. It was only when I understood the possibilities of making it a book that I became hyped to the hilt. It wouldn’t just be a movie with my script mutilated by a director’s vision. It would be my baby come to life. 

In the transition from screenplay to novel, much was altered. I depowered The Hot Squad from Powergirl like heroes to a more vulnerable supernatural type. Instead of being characters from a magic sketch pad, they were college girls trying to find their way for their freshman year. I took the story and Giselle out of a small California town and dropped it into the middle of Manhattan. It was different. But it was still my baby.

I never once doubted its potential for publication. Yes, I knew the odds were against me, but I felt I was against the odds. If that makes sense. Turns out someone should have placed a bet on me. The original book version, Giselle and The Hot Squad, the first book I’ve ever written was accepted by the very first publisher I sent it to. I had to tell the other publishers who were reading the book not to bother, I’ve already been spoken for.

With this reboot as Spendificent the real hard part starts now.. Getting someone to read my deluded ramblings. I could suffer from drastic under exposure, terrible reviews, or flat out disinterest from the reading public. It could be I totally misread what people want to read. Maybe I’m the only one interested in Giselle and her Hot Squad.

Whatever happens, I’m glad I wrote the story. Because if I hadn’t I’d be dead.

© Dacy Alex 2019