Callum the Huntsman sits by his hearth, brooding. Through his cabin window, in the distance, the gilded towers and turrets of the Royal Palace rise gleaming, their flags fluttering in the warm spring breeze. From the stone walls and oak rafters of his cabin hang the tools of his trade: bows and arrows, axes and knives, skins and heads of deer and rabbits.

Callum broods. And the object of his contemplation is Snow White. Since he waved her off towards the Great Forest, he has been unable to forget her. In his mind’s eye he sees her smile, gracious and winning, filling the space with light and joy: helplessly, he smiles back at his imagined Princess, before reality intrudes on his fantasy and pulls him back to the present. “Damn,” he mutters. “Will ye be all right, Princess?”

Soon he is remembering again the more carefree times, before the good King died and his evil widow came to the Throne. He remembers watching from the edge of the Palace courtyard as the Princess played in the gardens, fashioning daisy chains on the lawn, playing pooh-sticks on the bridge, giggling and laughing and singing with her animal friends as they chattered and chirruped around her. He had so wanted to join her, to hear her funny priggish royal voice speak to him, ask him to join in. He imagines her squeaking at him, “I say, young man, would you mind awfully fetching me that stick from the stream, there’s a good fellow…” But that could never have been, for, as she never tired of singing, someday her Prince would come. And a mere Palace servant such as he must accept his lot in life.

But now he remembers her at their last encounter, on a daffodil-strewn hillock in the woods, grinning cheekily at him as her pink virgin cunt gleamed and glistened, her fingers squelching into that warm bubbling space between her outer lips, her intact maidenhood teasing, stretching, tantalising. Mindlessly, Callum pops open the buttons on his trousers and releases his penis – already stiff and throbbing at the thought of the lovely Princess. “Oh, Snow White,” he moans, as he begins to stroke his shaft, slowly but firmly, and the image of her glistening cunt continues to fill his mind’s eye. And then he remembers her anus, stretched open by her delicate fingers into a gorgeous gape, the sunlight glimmering off the interior of her rectal cavity, as her pinched royal voice calls out, “I swear to you, my Royal Cuntsman, that the next time we meet, you may fuck the Royal Arse!”

“Fuck the Royal Arse,” echoes Callum to himself under his breath, “fuck the Royal Arse – oh Princess, you are joy and light and beauty! Forgive me…” His cock explodes, semen squirting desperately from his glans and spattering over his deerskin rug.

He surveys the mess, dissatisfied. That was pleasurable, to be sure, he thinks to himself, but not so pleasurable as to compensate for the lack of her. “God, keep her safe!” he mutters. “And may the time come when this accursed Queen is gone, and Snow White can render goodness and joy to this Kingdom once more…”

~

“Someday my Prince will come,” warbles Snow White, as she stands at the sink in her Cottage washing up. It is a fine sunny morning, and her forest friends are gathered at the kitchen window to hear her sing and chat, and to admire her winsome beauty.

“What fun I am having here!” exclaims the Princess to her friends. “I am so glad you found this place for me, or, good heavens, how ever would I have survived in that Forest all alone!” The animals nod and bow.

“Of course, I really must continue my journey to the Far Kingdom, where I will be completely safe. But I’m sure a couple of nights in this Cottage can’t hurt, can they? I mean, those Magic Dildos are quite the bonus, aren’t they?” she giggles. “Shame they disappear at dawn – or I am quite sure I would spend the whole day getting fucked, as well as all night!” She yawns. “Oh see – I am quite worn out! And won’t it be jolly when I’m no longer a virgin, and they can fuck my cunt as well!” She giggles, and her friends laugh and gambol about sympathetically. “I do declare, though, it’s going to be jolly difficult finding a Prince to merry out here in the woods, so I suppose I’ll just have to get used to sticking large objects up my bottom instead, until I make it to the Far – ohhh!!!”

Snow White stops in shock, for suddenly, outside her window, there appears an unknown woman, tall, dark-haired, with a stern but handsome air, wearing a long black cloak and carrying a large wicker panier. “Good morning, fair maid,” intones the woman in a deep velvety voice.

“Oh!” gasps the Princess. “Who are you? I didn’t know anyone else lived out here in the woods – apart from the Seven Dildos, of course. Are you one of their friends…?” She notices that all her animal friends seem to have suddenly disappeared – but thinks nothing of it.

“I am a Magician,” says the woman, her voice deep and seductive, “a Sorceress wishing to share my pleasure-bringing magic with you poor and painful peasantry. See what beauteous wares I can offer you!” She removes the checked cloth covering her basket to reveal a gleaming pile of fresh fruit: apples, bananas, peaches, plums, and deep red raspberries glistening with morning dew. “Would you like some?” she leers.

“Oh, they do look lovely,” smiles Snow White. “But you know, I am hardly ‘poor and painful’: I am a Princess on the run, actually. And I never carry silver or gold; I rely on my court minions to provide such things – and there aren’t any of them here now. So I couldn’t possibly pay you,” she explains earnestly. “What’s more, this house belongs to the Seven Dildos – and they only come out at night…”

“Oh, that is no obstacle,” chuckles the woman warmly. “I am happy to let you try some of my magic wares free of charge. See, for example, this plum: doesn’t it look delicious?” She waves the fruit before Show White’s eyes and, indeed, it does seem irresistible: soft, juicy, gleaming, with an intoxicating perfume which fills the Princess’ nostrils.

“Ohhhh,” moans Snow White, “that smells jolly nice!” Instinctively, she parts her soft red lips, allowing the Sorceress to reach in through the kitchen window and gently stroke them with the deep purple surface of the plum. Her mouth begins to water, and the growing dampness on her lips makes the plum gleam and glisten yet more. The Sorceress applies gentle pressure to the enchanted fruit, and deep red juice flows onto Snow White’s lips, dribbling down her chin.

“Oh, I say,” pants Snow White. “That is utterly divine!” She extends her tongue, parting her lips to squeeze harder, so that the whole fruit bursts and smears over her lips, mouth and chin, juice dripping onto her dress. “Oh, but what a mess I have made of my clothes. And I’ve no lady-in-waiting here to clean it for me! Whatever shall I do?”

“Never mind your dress,” intones the Sorceress. “Leave it where it falls, and come out here to me,” she chants. “After all, wouldn’t you like some more…?”

~

A loud series of knocks wakens Callum from his post-onanic reverie. “Come in!” he calls, hastily stuffing his softening penis back into his trousers – only to find his cabin door flung open to reveal a detachment of guards, led by none other than the Captain of the Palace Guard Sir John de Thomas. “Captain, Sir!” he exclaims, standing to attention and saluting. His fly is still unbuttoned.

“I am sorry, Callum,” frowns the Captain, his eyes darting briefly from the open fly down to the freshly soiled deerskin rug and back to the Huntman’s face, “but I am under orders from the Queen to arrest you, on charges of attempting to deceive the Crown. You must come with me at once, to the Dungeons.”

~

Snow White stands naked on the grass before the Cottage of the Seven Dildos, plum juice smeared on her face and dripping off her chin onto her full breasts. “Oh, truly you are beautiful, Princess,” pants the Sorceress under her breath. “The Mirror was right.”

“Mirror?” asks Snow White in bewilderment, as she feels her lips and nipples tingle with desire.

The Sorceress waves the question away with her hand. “Never mind!” she chuckles. “Look instead at this!” She holds up a peach: glowing in the sunlight, its scent is rich, sweet and powerful – and the Princess wants it, desires it, needs it.

“Give it me!” trembles Snow White, parting her lips wide even as she reaches for the soft fruit with her hand. The Sorceress lets the ripe peach drop into Snow White’s delicate pale palm. The Princess squeezes it, feels the juice run down her arm, then plasters it over her face and breasts, before reaching down to rub the soft yellow flesh into her vulva. “Good Lord!” she cries, as unalloyed pleasure takes hold of her whole being, “Gratias agimus tibi propter labia maiora tua!” she squeals, pressing peach-flesh into her tits and cunt and collapsing to her knees in magical ecstasy.

The Sorceress laughs with delight. She casts her cloak off to reveal her naked body – hair black, skin pale, lips red as the rose, but still magically unrecognisable by the Princess. Her breasts are full on her slender body – but the girl’s attention is drawn to the long, thick, stiff penis now bulging from the Sorceress’ crotch: throbbing, tumescent, powerful. “O Sorceress, O Magician,” she gasps, pointing to the magic futa-cock, already dripping with translucent pre-cum, “I didn’t know that you could… you could… ohhh…” Snow White’s sentence disintegrates into a moan of desire as, continuing to rub her nectar-sweetened clit and paw at her own fruit-spattered breasts, she shuffles forward on her knees, lips parted, tongue drooling.

The Magician grabs a handful of raspberries from her magic basket and squeezes them over her thick shaft, so that her whole cock is now dripping with sweet red enchanted juice. She reaches for the back of Snow White’s head and urges it forward questioningly.

Snow White nods and opens her mouth wider in affirmation, allowing the Sorceress’s fragrant dripping shaft to power its way into her throat. “Aaaarggh!” gags the Princess, as the huge cock begins a slow but deep throatfuck, eliciting ropes of berry-coloured saliva from the girl’s desperate mouth.

~

The metal gate clangs shut, and Callum the Huntsman collapses on the floor of his cell in despair. Sir John de Thomas turns the key in the lock but, instead of departing swiftly as he should, pauses awhile, as if struggling with whether to speak or not.

“I’m so sorry, Callum,” he says eventually.

Callum looks up. “Am I to be executed, Sir John?” he asks.

Sir John nods. “The Queen has ordered it for dawn tomorrow.”

“In which case, Sir John, I have nothing left to lose.”

“Meaning?”

“You know who my sister is, don’t you?”

“Your sister?”

“My sister, Annie, from the kitchens.”

Sir John draws a sharp breath, but pretends not to be alarmed.

“If the Queen continues to rule, you will never be able to marry her – you know that, don’t you?”

Sir John sets his jaw. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lies.

“Fine, Captain. You can pretend if you like. But I don’t have to pretend anymore, do I? I know how much you despise the Queen in your heart. And I say there is a way out. Snow White has fled to the Far Kingdom. There are many other exiles there. We could join her, you and I, and raise an army. This Land could be set free again.”

Sir John shakes his head grimly. “No, Callum, Snow White has not reached the Far Kingdom. She is staying in the Cottage of the Seven Dildos, in the Great Forest.”

“What?! How came you by this information?”

“The Queen’s Mirror has revealed it. That is how Her Majesty knew you had betrayed her trust. She is on her way to the Cottage as we speak, to work some of her accursed Magic on the Princess. Snow White is doomed.”

“Oh God!” cries the Huntsman in horror. “You must let me go, Sir John, I beg of you!” Desperately, he rattles the bars of his cell.

“How can I do that, Callum? Would you wish the vengeance of the Queen on me too?”

“If I manage to save Snow White, and the Queen is defeated, then there may be peace and justice in the Land again,” says the Huntsman urgently. And then he adds, “And you might marry my sister.”

Callum sees a glimmer of hope pass swiftly across Sir John’s face – before being rapidly effaced by a frown, then a sigh. The Captain says nothing.

“Please, Sir John,” continues the Huntsman. “No one need know. I have only one desire, and that is to save the Princess. You have nothing to lose – and possibly everything to gain. Please.”

~

Kneeling on the lawn before the Cottage of the Seven Dildos, Snow White is in enchanted ecstasy – but the Queen is in control. “Oh yes, my filthy cock-sucking, fruit-fucking Princess,” she pants, as she continues to fuck Snow White’s face, “you want more, don’t you? Tell me!” she bellows.

“Mooore!” moans the Princess through her throatful of magic fruit and pounding cock.

The Queen reaches for a banana – thick, glowing, glistening, irresistible. She peels it, allowing its heady scent to reach the Princess’s nostrils, even as she continues to be face-fucked by her pounding futa-cock. “In your cunt, Princess?!” she asks.

“Nooooo!” glubs the Princess. “My ‘unt i’ for my Pwince awone! Pu’ i’ in my aaar–ghhh!!”

Snow White lies back on the soft grass, roughly pulling the Queen on top of her into a sixty-nine. The Sorceress continues to pound her girlcock in and out of the Princess’ fruit-smeared face, whilst reaching down and squelching the full length of the peeled banana into her gaped anus. “Oh jolly fucking hockey sticks!” squeals Snow White, as an exquisite magical banana-induced pleasure grips her anus. She expels the Queen’s cock from her mouth as she screams, “MOTHERFUCKING MARVELLOUS, EH WHAT! NOW MOOOOORE!!!”

~

Callum the Huntsman is riding. Through the Great Forest he gallops, eastwards in pursuit of the Princess, in search of the Cottage of the Seven Dildos. Over hills and through dales, he fords streams, vaults over rocky outcrops – till he comes to a place deep in the Forest where the road forks.

“Damn!” he curses, rearing his horse. “Which way is it?” He wavers for a few minutes, desperate to remember. But it is then that he hears a noise of galloping approaching along one of the side paths. He freezes in alarm – until round a bend in the path charges a company of animals: two deer, each bearing on its back a small bevy of squirrels and rabbits – and a turtle. “Where is she?” he calls. “Take me to her!”

The animals turn and gallop away down the right-hand fork. Callum follows.

~

“MORE?!” shouts the Queen, as she kneels on the ground between Snow White’s thighs. “What about this, my beauteous Princess whore?!” She retrieves a deep red apple from her panier. “Can you take this in your royal fucking shithole?”

“OH YES, YES, YES!” screams Snow White. She reaches down, lifts her buttocks, and pulls her banana-smeared anus open with three fingers of each hand, so that her pulsating rectum gapes apple-wide. “Put that apple in my arsehole, O Motherfucking Magician!”

“YES! YES!! YES!!!” screams the Queen. She brandishes her gleaming magic apple, and rams it into Snow White’s arsehole in one brutal thrust.

“FUCK YEA, WHAT HO!” bellows the Princess. “So come with me now, O Slutty Sorceress!” she calls, as she spits a mouthful of masticated magical fruit onto her vulva and begins to desperately rub the sweet multi-coloured mess into her throbbing clit. “Cover me with your Magical Milt!”

The Queen stands, laughing as she looks down at her victim, her lust for her imminent victory barely disguised. Frantically she hand-pumps her huge girlcock, rolling her eyes in ecstasy as it explodes, releasing stream after stream of hot futa-cum over the writhing body of the Princess. Show White screeches with delight as she too comes, feeling her face, lips, tits and cunt decorated with fountains of cock-slime which garnish the multi-coloured melange of juice and fruit-flesh already adorning her pale skin. The Queen aims her last three thick spurts of cum across the red apple still crowning Snow White’s gaped anus. Futa-semen drips down the surface of the fruit, across Snow White’s anal rim, and onto the soft green grass, as the Queen screeches, “NOW I WILL BE THE FAIREST IN THE LAND!!!”

“What?!” mutters Snow White in bewilderment. She feels the stretch of her anus, now gaped wider than ever before by the magic apple, crowned gloriously at her quivering entrance. There is pleasure, there is pain, there is triumph, there is the ecstasy of feeling her dirt-orifice stretched wide. But now also there is confusion: “Fairest in the…?”

And then the Princess notices something different: where her stretched-out arsehole has been tingling and throbbing at the touch and penetration of the magical fruit, now something quite new and strange is happening. The sensations fade – and she cannot feel anything there anymore. The numbness spreads, and now she can no longer feel her cunt, nor her thighs. She tries to move her legs – but cannot even sense their presence.

She looks up and, to her surprise, recognises, not an unknown Sorceress, but the Queen, her Queen, her Stepmother, standing over her, her expression enigmatic. “Your Majesty?” she asks. “Have you come to rescue me? Someone wants me dead, you know – but I know not who...” The ecstasy of plum, peach, raspberry and banana continues to fade, leaving anaesthesia and lethargy in its wake, gradually spreading up her body. She paws at her breasts – but now cannot feel them either. “What is happening?” she whimpers.

Melancholy overtakes Snow White, and her life begins to pass before her eyes: times long gone, when all was happiness and light, and life was full of kindness and joy, and everything shimmered with meaning and promise. She remembers her childhood, playing in the Palace grounds while her loving widowed Father looked on indulgently. She smiles hopefully at the Queen, remembering her once so charming and elegant as her Father fell in love with her all those years ago. “Oh Father, I miss you so much…” she mutters – as her eyes flutter slowly shut.

The Queen stands gloating over her new victim, now fast asleep. “FUCK YOU, SNOW WHITE!” she cackles, throwing back her head to scream her victory to the skies, as she flicks the last few drops of cum off her shrinking cock onto her step-daughter’s vulva. “No one can help you now,” she sniggers. “Your fool of a Father could not withstand me – and nor will you!”

But she is not alone anymore. “HALT, O QUEEN!” cries a voice, as Callum the Huntsman and his forest menagerie come galloping into the clearing before the Cottage. He charges towards her, brandishing his axe. But the Queen holds up the palm of one hand and utters a foul magical incantation: an invisible enchanted missile issues forth and knocks the Huntsman off his horse and onto the ground.

“TOO LATE, MY TREACHEROUS HUNTSMAN!” roars the Queen. “Snow White will never wake again! For only True Love’s Arsefuck can break this spell – and no man has ever been capable of that! From now on, I AM THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL!” She laughs again, a hideous triumphant evil cackle which echoes throughout the Forest – before whirling around and, in a burst of flame and wind, disappearing.

Snow White lies immobile on the ground, her body adorned with peach flesh, plum and raspberry juice, mashed banana, and Sorceress-cum, the magic apple lodged brutally in her anus. Callum kneels before her and weeps. And the forest animals gather round, wailing and keening their broken hearts to the wind.