Some familiar fables transgendered for a TG audience. The model for each tale is the classic original, a Grimmer tale, rather than Disney's bowdlerized version. I promise you laughs and a happy ending in each tale (unless you identify with the villain), as well as a continuing tale of Sherry and Sadie, two married men, who got into big trouble on their girls' night out together. The characters come in all sexual orientations. The stories are definitely intended for an adult audience and will, like those of Sheherazade of the Arabian Nights, continue only as long as they keep the Sultan – you, the readers – entertained. Requests are taken, so long as the story to be satirized is copyright-free (pre-1900). Indeed, no requests, no stories.

  

Cross-Dressed Fairy Tales

by Dawn De Winter

  

Prologue

Once upon a time – oh, it was about three years, 1001 nights ago to be precise – Sherry and Sadie had their first and only girls' night out. Happily married men, Sherry and Sadie normally dressed like accountants, but on this particular night they had their wives' permission to go out on the town dressed en femme, which is a high-brow, fairytale way of saying they were wearing dresses.

Fortunately, Sherry and Sadie were also doing their utmost to pass as women, or otherwise they might not have survived long enough on the mean streets to conceive the tales that I, their humble scribe, have written down for your instruction and amusement.

They were unaccompanied by their wives, who loving though they be, could not abide the sight of their men cross-dressed. "It's unnatural," Kelly protested, "to wear the clothes of the other sex," as she pulled down her sweatshirt and hitched up her drooping, studded jeans to cover the "Calvin Klein" waistband on her boxer shorts. Kimothy, her biceps and thighs bulging through her cargo pants and classic white T-shirt, morosely agreed: "Our husbands are defying the divine plan and I fear they may one day be wearing their silk panties in hell. Why won't they wear cotton jockey shorts like I do?" Unwilling to be seen with Sherry and Sadie, Kelly and Kimothy anxiously awaited their return in front of the television set, chugging beer and channel-hopping between sporting events.

The "girls" wanted to go dancing, but where? It couldn't be a straight disco because they were too straight to dance with men. And it couldn't be a gay bar because they didn't want anyone to think they desired a dance with men. That left only a lesbian club, and Shelly and Sadie soon found themselves in "The Garage," the only "dyke hangout" that their cabbie could find.

Its name was fitting: the bar occupied a former parking garage, built in the 1920s, and used since the 1970s as a discotheque. Decorated in early metallic grunge, The Garage contained a 1960 cherry red Chevy convertible, in which girls could neck, and a darkened 1969 Volkswagen van, in which they could lose their cherry.

At first everything was cool – the slang, the air-conditioning, and the friendly welcome from the regular patrons. Big Sue even started buying rounds of drinks after Sadie admiringly told her that she had better biceps and abs than Sadie's "wife, er ex-girlfriend." Mike – who was, despite the name, definitely a woman – also started hanging around their table, at first to have Big Sue buy the shots of whisky she was chugalugging, and later because she had taken a shine to Sherry, who was quite enamored with Mike's "Eminem" look.

Good girls, Sherry and Sadie didn't intend to cheat on their wives when they set out on their adventure, but their intentions became impure when, having been plied with drinks all evening, they drunkenly agreed to see Big Sue's fetchings. Mike came along for the ride. Forgetting, or perhaps never having been told that a girl should never let down her guard, Sherry and Sadie both fell asleep in Big Sue's four-seat pickup truck.

When they awoke – almost simultaneously since they were hit by the same bucket of cold water – Sherry and Sadie found themselves stark naked, lying facedown, bottoms up, on Big Sue's king-sized bed, their hands and feet tied with rope to the bedposts. Their heads at the foot of the bed, they had a good view of their host, Big Sue, and her buddy Mike, both of whom were garbed in leather, from their executioner's mask to their steel-toed boots.

It was Sherry who spoke first, sort of – "wh….wh….wh….wha … what …."

"Shut up, bitch," snarled Big Sue. "You two faggots are the first males who ever tricked me into thinking they was ladies. And for that you gotta pay." She then plunged her arm into a tub of lard.

"Yeah, for that you gotta pay," echoed Mike, who was waving around the world's longest, thicket dildo like a teenager with a light sword.

"It was revolting to see that thing between your legs when I undressed you," Big Sue barked at Sadie. I could've barfed."

"I did barf," Mike admitted, which partly explained the rancid smell of the ill-kept apartment.

"We're not fags," objected Sadie. "We love women – so much that we dress like them"

"Yes, we want to be your girlfriends," said Sherry in his most feminine voice.

"Fat chance," sneered Big Sue. There's no frigging room in our lives for girly men. Well, little Miss Drag Queen, I bet you know what I'm going to do with this greased fist. Sissies like you are always beating off to stories about femdom. How many times have you fantasized about being raped by a woman?"

"Yeah, how many times have you been fantasized about having a rutabaga shoved up your butt by a beautiful woman? How many times?" asked Mike. Having forgotten to buy a rutabaga, Mike menacingly waved the world's longest, thickest dildo instead.

At this point, Sadie would have crapped in his pants had he been wearing any: "Fantasies are one thing, reality is quite another," he said to himself. "No dyke is going to put her fist in me – not without my consent. A lady has the right to say no." But he realized that pleading would get him nowhere. All he could do was silently tighten his sphincter.

Meanwhile, Sherry was doing the thinking for both of them. What got him thinking was Big Sue's allusion to the femdom literature. "How does she know about TG literature? She must be reading it! My god, that super-sized butch actually can read! And she likes to read stories about transgendered folk. She must! She must! I bet she's even hung out at Crystal's Storysite, Sapphire's Place, and Fictionmania."

But Sherry was running out of time for speculation, as he realized when Big Sue got behind him on the bed and started using her knees to push his legs farther apart. "It's only a matter of seconds before I feel that fist," Sherry gulped. "It's now or never: to avoid becoming the anti-hero of a femdom tale, I must find a way to distract Big Sue – and Mike too -- with a tale of my own. A transgendered tale, of course, but a nice one that will divert them from their evil ways towards … towards (Sherry wasn't sure what she wanted) … towards … lying under us – yeah that's it – passively lying under us in the missionary position."

Sherry gasped as he felt Big Sue's hand, as cold as a witch's tit, spread his nether cheeks. "Don't do it," he yelped. "If you stop right now, if you don't violate me, I'll give you something that's literally priceless."

Big Sue was intrigued. Her fist left the danger zone as she sat back on her haunches to quiz Sherry: "What could you have, you little wimp, that's priceless? I don't think it's your ass. It would be worth about two bucks if you tried to peddle it."

"An original story. That's what I have that's priceless. I'll tell you a tale that no one else has ever heard. You and I will be the only one that will ever know it. It will be our secret – that is, if you let me leave here in peace and in one piece."

An original story that no one had ever heard before! That truly was priceless – if it was any good. Consumed with curiosity, Big Sue agreed to untie Sherry: "We'll go into the living room," Big Sue said. "We'll close the door on these lovebirds -- have fun with the dildo, Mike – and then we'll sit on the sofa, real close, with my big arm around you, and you'll tell me an original tale. If I like it, I may let you go. If I don't, I'm going to grease your insides with my elbow."

"There's no deal" replied Sherry bravely – or was it foolishly? "You don't get to hear an original tale unless Mike leaves Sadie alone."

Big Sue was mighty curious so she ordered Mike "to put the dildo away until I tell you to use it. In the meantime, the sissy can keep you happy with his tongue. If he's no good with his tongue, then cut it off. As for you, bitch" – and she gave Sherry a couple of slaps as she began to untie him – "your tale had better be original and interesting or I'll be having your nuts for breakfast."

In fact, there was to be more than one tale told because Big Sue pronounced the first one "not original enough." She also didn't like the treatment of the female characters. So there had to be a second tale, and a third, and … and, there's no point in giving away the exact number of stories. Let that be a surprise. All I can say is that I, Dawn DeWinter, learned these tales from Big Sue herself and that I have decided to reveal them to the world.

When you're finished reading Sherry's tales, I'll be asking: Are these tales not original? Well, at least partially original? And are they not brilliant? Well, at least brilliant considering the fact that their author was drunk, terrified, and a C student at Yale? When you've read to the end (or reached it by scrolling rapidly downward), I'll let you know whether Sherry's tales saved her ass. Oh, and I'll also tell you whether Sadie was sufficiently cunning as a linguist to keep Mike entertained and harmless.

One last word before we begin: a truly original tale is indeed priceless. Alas, you won't be finding one here – that is, unless you've read as little in your life as Big Sue.

 

Snow White and the Seven Trolls By: Sherry

 

ONCE upon a time when the moon was blue, a queen sat at a window snorting coke and sewing his costume for the royal ball, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And while he was dreaming about marrying a prince, he pricked his finger with the sewing needle, and three drops of blood fell upon his stash. And the red looked pretty upon the coke, and he thought to himself, "Would that I had a child as white as cocaine, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window frame."

Soon after that the queen attended the ball dressed as Cinderella, but had to flee for his life in disgrace, scrambling just steps ahead of his spear-waving father across the castle's golden drawbridge with such desperation that he lost one of his size-eighteen ruby slippers.

Though it took both hands, a beautiful prince from a land faraway retrieved the slipper; and after trying it on the foot of every super-plus-sized woman in the kingdom, the prince eventually found the queen in the forest eating his way through a gingerbread house. At first exhilarated at the thought that his prince had finally come (or would soon be doing so nightly), the queen learned to his dismay that his prince was in fact a woman in male attire.

It was a royal wedding of remarkable togetherness: the couple were outwardly dressed identically in red buckled shoes, pink tights, a white blouse, a red velvet vest, and a pearl-encrusted, golden headband around their "Helen of Troy" hairdos. Only in their underclothes did they differ, the queen being dressed in the most delicate of silks and lace, the prince in rough, uncombed wool.

It was a marriage of convenience for two royal households, and the queen and prince knew that they could pursue their own pages and maids, so long as they produced an heir to the throne. And soon after the wedding, the prince gave birth to a little son. His skin was as white as coke, his lips as red as blood, and his hair as black as ebony; and he was immediately nicknamed Little Snow White, although his real name was Jamal, like his father the queen and grandfather the King.

When the child was born, the prince took one look at him, and died of shame. There was no way that she wanted to stay around long enough to explain to her husband how they had given birth to a son with skin as white as snow, when they both had skin as black as ebony.

The court chamberlain, a 'eunuch' named Honky White, sought refuge in the next kingdom. With him fled his 'nephew' Kareem, a teen so blackly beautiful that he had already caught the errant eye of King Jamal, who NOT BEING GAY, NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST, had already spent a fortune on magic spells and potions in a vain attempt to turn Kareem into a girl.

  As the years passed, the Old King began to wonder whether he had remembered to tell the sorcerers that it was Kareem he wanted to transform into a girl, for it seemed to be Snow White who was developing under their spell. A delicate child who turned bright red when exposed to the African sun, Snow White had to be dressed like a girl, at first for survival (since little boys wore no sun protection at all), but soon for his own pleasure. After his grandfather died from a fit (after seeing that ten-year-old little Snow White had little round breasts), the boy's doting father, now king as well as queen of the land, sought to ease Snow White's guilt and grief by giving him his fondest wish. After a special circumcision rite that lasted two moons, Snow White emerged with the body, vagina and all, of a tween-aged beauty contestant.

After two years had passed, Jamal, the Queen-King, finally took to himself another wife. It had taken that long because most of the women he courted were unwilling to marry a king who wore dresses, jumbo sized, even though his v-shaped legs thickened with each varicose vein sagging downward. And worse, he wore sheer hose.

Jamal's new bride was a beautiful woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear to think that anyone surpassed her in beauty. She installed mirrors in every room of the castle, so that she could admire herself and say, "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

One day, after she'd dropped three tabs of acid, a mirror surprisingly responded: "Thou, O consort of the Queen-King, are the fairest natural-born woman of them all."

Only briefly was she satisfied. "What do you mean?" she demanded of the floor where she now lay. "Is there someone fairer than I who is not a natural-born woman?"

The mirror above her answered:

Thou art a fox, O Queen,

But the hottest I've seen

Is Snow White the tween

The queen was shocked: she had never heard a worse rhyme nor met a more perverted mirror. Imagine: lusting after a twelve-year-old! But the mirror refused to change its opinion even when the child celebrated her sixteenth birthday (making her almost an old maid), and from that day, whenever she looked at Snow White, the Queen's heart heaved in her drooping breasts – that's how much she hated the girl. Hate was, tragically, ageing her bosom.

And envy and pride grew thicker and thicker in her brain, choking it like kudzu weed (or perhaps it was simply being fried by coke), so that she had no peace day or night. No matter how many mirrors she quizzed, they all agreed, "the hottest I've seen is Snow White the teen."

She summoned a white hunter from America, who came loaded for bear. Kindly she lent him an elephant gun so that he might survive. To him she said, "Take Snow White away into the jungle; I will no longer have her, the former him, in my sight. Kill her, and bring me back her heart as a token."

The hunter obeyed, and took the child away. Snow White went trippingly, for she was a wee bit color-conscious (who wouldn't be with that moniker in Africa?), and she hoped that the handsome albino would make her day. Instead, he seemed intent on blowing her … away – with a 45 magnum. She began to weep, and said, "Ah, sweet, sweet hunter, with skin like ivory, leave me my life! I will run away into the deep jungle and never come home again."

And she was so beautiful and skilled in fellatio that the hunter had pity on her and said, "Here are the directions to my safari camp. Heed them, run away, and when we meet again you shall be my bride."

But alas, she seemed too frightened or witless to listen, and as she skipped off in the wrong direction, the hunter sighed, "The wild beasts will soon have devoured you." It gave him comfort, nonetheless, that the girl had been with a real man before she died. Just then an elephant came crashing through the thicket; the hunter killed it with his fifteenth shot (fortunately the bemused beast had waited while he switched to an elephant gun) and cut out its heart and took it to the wicked Queen as proof that "Das Kind war tod." No, the news was even Grimmer than that: the child, he said, was "very, very dead."

Though shocked that the child had been so big-hearted, the wicked Queen made the most of it: She invited all her friends to a feast. And they were amazed indeed that the heart of Snow White could feed the three of them. The Queen-King, uninvited to the feast, knew naught of Snow White's faith. He buried his grief in the laps of his courtiers.

Snow White was alone in the great jungle, and so terrified that she began to run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and distraught by her appearance – her mangled hair, her broken heels, her torn stockings, and ripped bodice – she stopped to weep, her makeup cascading down her cheeks. "Oh woe is me. Has any girl ever been so full of woe? Not only am I to die young, but I won't even be a beautiful corpse." The wild beasts ran past her, but did her no harm. They either felt pity for the poor child, or else could not abide her perfume, "Pepe's eau de moufette".

Uncertain of the direction of the setting sun, Snow White ran ever deeper into the jungle. Her despair gave way to joy when she spied an abode. Well, actually she saw a parked trailer – what the British call a caravan – and her own people called a manufactured, modular home. It had seen better days: its lettering – The Saddam-American Oil Consortium – could scarcely be read.

Everything in the trailer was small and dirty, the knotty pine furniture covered haphazardly with empty screw holes and strange Swedish names. On a "Gooddog" table, on a white plastic cover were seven little plastic plates, and on each plate a little plastic spoon; moreover, there were seven little plastic knives and forks, and seven unopened beer cans. Against the wall stood seven little beds side by side, and covered with one giant tarpaulin.

  Snow White was so hungry and thirsty that she ate some cold meat and potatoes from each plate, for she did not wish to take all from one place only. She meant to do the same with the beer, but, as her nerves needed "calming", she consumed them all. Then, as she was so calmed, she laid herself down on one of the little beds, but none of them fitted her; so she lay across all seven, and fell fast asleep.

When it was quite dark the owners of the trailer came back: they were seven trolls, exceptionally short, big-headed, and vain, who were returning, alone yet again, from a singles bar. They headed at once for their beers but found their brewskis drained. And then, despite the chaos, they noticed that much was amiss:

The first said, "Who broke the wicker seat of my chair?"

The second, "Who has been licking the grease off my plate?"

The third, "Who has been dining on of my taters?"  

The fourth, "Who has been eating my meat?"

The fifth, "Who has been spooning with my fork?"

The sixth, "Who has been whittling with my knife?"   

The seventh, "Who has been drinking my Kronenbourg 1666 beer?"

Then the first looked around and saw Snow White sprawled across their seven beds. And he called the others, who came running up, and they cried out in unison, "Oh, God, I must have died and gone to heaven! What a hottie!" And they were so glad that they carefully did not wake her up, but took turns, one hour each, having intercourse with Snow White, who moaned loudly but seemed not to awake. And so they got through the night.

When it was morning little Snow White awoke, and was frightened when she saw the seven trolls. But they were super friendly and asked her name. "My name is Jamal but they call me Snow White," she answered.

"How have you come to our trailer?" quizzed the trolls. Then she told them that her extraordinarily wicked stepmother had tried to have her killed, but that a hunter had spared her life, and that she had run for a whole day until at last she had found their charming dwelling.

The trolls said, "If you will take care of our house, cook, make the beds, wash, sew and knit, and if you will keep everything neat and clean, you can stay with us and you shall want for nothing. Have you ever dreamt of having sex with seven guys?"

Snow White pondered her options. The trolls weren't much to look at, but they did offer refuge from the jungle, and the thought of an eight-way was enticing. "Yes," said Snow White" with all my heart and body will I serve you, provided that you dress me as a French maid."

So she stayed with them, keeping and playing house. Each day the seven trolls went to a singles bar where they struck out in their search for a girl willing to have "lezzie" sex with Snow White while they watched. But none agreed, for they thought not to bring Snow White along as bait. When they finally came back, their supper had to be ready, or else they put their French maid on their lap and spanked her. As she learned to enjoy another vice, Snow White became ever more laggard with dinner.

As their girl was alone the whole day, so the trolls warned her against strangers, saying, "Beware your stepmother, for she will soon know that you are here; be sure to let no one come in, especially a man as handsome as we, for that is the form she is most likely to take."

It was the mirror in the attic who squealed on Snow White. What was his motivation? How could any piece of glass be so cutting in its betrayal? It must be understood that the mirror felt neglected, for the wicked queen but rarely asked his opinion. He saw his chance when the queen asked him,

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Who in this land is the fairest of all?

And the treacherous, self-serving mirror answered –

Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,

But over the hills, where the seven trolls dwell

Snow White is still alive and well,

And none is so fair as she.

What a ratfink mirror! In his next life, he deserves to belong to an egotistical sumo wrestler.

The wicked queen was astounded, for she knew that the mirror never lied, and she knew that the hunter had betrayed her. Like a lightning bolt, anger surged through her: that little monster Snow White was alive, alive, alive!"  

And so the wicked queen thought and thought again how she might kill the little degenerate, for so long as she was not the fairest in the whole land, envy let her have no rest. And when she had at last thought of something to do, she painted her face like a preacher's wife, or maybe a Florida politician, dressed herself in a prim little pink suit, and magically transformed a lemon into a Pink Cadillac. No one could know her, for people rarely looked a door-to-door saleswoman in the eye.

In this disguise she drove through the seven hollows to the seven trolls, and knocked at the door and cried, "Pretty things to sell, very cheap, very cheap." It was the perfect trap to spring on a transgendered girl! Snow White forgot the warnings. She looked out of the screen door and called out, "Hey you, what've you got to sell?"

"Good things, pretty things, she answered; "lingerie in all colors," and she pulled out a high-rise bikini of bright-colored silk. Worried that sex with the trolls was losing its zest (they were now complaining about her eyes always being shut), Snow White decided to let the saleswoman in; and she unbolted the door and bought the sexy lingerie.

"Child," said the saleswoman, "what a fright you look; come, I will lace you properly for once." Snow White had no suspicion, but stood before her naked, half-hoping to have some of that "lezzie" sex that so fascinated the trolls. Instead, the saleswoman corseted Snow White, who foolishly begged for an ever smaller waist. Finally, with a corset fit for a ten-year-old, Snow-white lost her breath and fell down as if dead.

"Gotcha! the wicked queen cried. "I knew that any woman born a boy would fall for the old 'how-thin-can-my-waist-get" trick! Now I am the most beautiful," said the Queen, and drove away noisily, leaving the car's muffler behind.

  Not long afterwards, in the late evening, the seven trolls came home, but shocked they were when they saw their playmate Snow White lying on the ground; and she neither stirred nor moved, and seemed to be dead drunk, as was her wont on weekdays. But on closer inspection, they decided she was dead period. And so two of them lifted her up to have one last go at her body. As they scraped off the corset with a cheese grater, Snow White began to breathe a little, and after a while came to life again. When the trolls heard what had happened they said, "The lady in pink was no one else than the wicked queen; take care and let no one come in when we are not here."

The attic mirror took fiendish delight in answering the now tedious question about "who's the fairest of them all":

Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,

But over the hills, where the seven trolls dwell

Snow White is still fit and well,

And none is so boss as she.   

When she heard that, all her blood rushed to her heart with fear, for she saw plainly that monstrous Snow White was some sort of vampire.

"But now," she said, "I will think of something that shall put an end to you," and by the help of a survey course in bio-chemistry, she made a poisonous lipstick by scraping botox from the pores of her forehead. Then she disguised herself as another saleswoman, this time with a lavender outfit and car, and went through the seven hollows to the seven trolls, put her head through a hole in the screen door, and cried, "Good things to sell cheap, cheap!"

Snow White looked out and said, "Go away; I cannot let any one come in." "I suppose you can look," said the old woman, and pulled out the lavender lipstick and pushed it up and down suggestively. It pleased the girl so well that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the door. When they had made a bargain the old woman said, "Now I will apply the lipstick, as you do it so poorly." Poor, dim-witted Snow-white had no suspicion, and let the old woman do as she pleased. Hardly had the lipstick been applied than the poison took its effect, and the girl fell down senseless.

"You paragon of beauty," said the wicked queen, "you are done for now," and she went away.

  But fortunately it was almost late evening, when the seven trolls wandered home disconsolately from the singles bar. When they saw Snow White lying as if dead upon the ground, they checked her breath for the smell of alcohol. As it was no stronger than usual, they suspected foul play, and soon enough they found the lipstick tube lying beside Snow White. "Poison," they thought; and they scrubbed layer upon layer of lipstick off Snow White's lips until they were as "red as blood" again – or rather, rubbed raw and dotted with blood.

Snow-white came to herself, and told them what had happened. Then they warned her once more to be upon her guard and to open the door to no one. At the singles bar, they made themselves even more obnoxious than usual by mumbling in their beer about the "sexy but silly twit they lived with," and how they couldn't count forever on the wicked queen being as inept at assassination as the CIA. "What will she think of next," the grumpiest troll asked, "An exploding cigar? A poisoned wetsuit? A smart bomb targeted at Snow's cellphone?"

The wicked queen, at home, went in front of the attic mirror and asked the same boring question, the one she asked a thousand times a day. The mirror spitefully answered,

Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,

But over the hills, where the seven trolls roam

Snow White is still at their home,

And none is sexier than she.   

When she heard the glass speak thus she trembled and shook with rage. She smashed the mirror. "I've had it with your lame rhymes. Snow White shall die," she cried, "even if it costs me my life!"

Thereupon she went into her bedroom, a quite secret, lonely room where no one ever came, and there she made a very poisonous apple. Outside it looked pretty, dusty white with a red cheek, so that every one who saw it longed for it; but whoever ate the wrong piece of it must surely die.

  When the apple was ready, she unpainted her face, and dressed herself up as an eagle scout, and so she went through the seven hills to the home of the seven trolls, who as usual were holding down barstools far away. She knocked at the door. Snow White put her head through the hole in the screen door and said, "I cannot let any one in; the seven trolls have forbidden me."

"It is all the same to me," answered the scout, "I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one."   

"No," said Snow White, "I dare not take anything." Yet she did not want the scout to go away, for she had not seen a teenaged boy in, like, eons. She looked at him coyly.

"Are you afraid of poison?" said the scout; "look, I can cut the apple in two pieces; you eat the white cheek, and I will eat the red." The apple was so cunningly made that only the dusty white cheek was poisoned. Snow White longed to connect somehow with the beautiful scout, and so lingered at the door, her eyes asking for a better line.

The scout did his duty. "Why not eat it together?" he said, sinking his teeth into the red part of the apple, which he moved – along with his "too-pretty-to-be-a-male" face – towards the "too-dumb-not-to-be-a-blond" face of his intended … victim.

But hardly had she bit into the dusty white portion of the apple than she fell down dead. Then the wicked queen looked at Snow White with a dreadful look, and laughed aloud and said, "White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony-wood! This time the trolls cannot revive you."

   But when she asked of a hall mirror at home, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all," it answered deceitfully (for the surviving mirrors were determined to give the queen seven years of bad luck),

 

Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I sees,

But over the hills, where the seven trolls roam

And Snow White is as dead as a comb,

None is so fair as Snow's new babies.

The wicked queen then had a nervous collapse, but not before destroying every lying poetaster of a mirror in the castle.   

The trolls, when they stumbled home late in the evening, found Snow White lying upon the ground; she breathed no longer and was dead. They lifted her up, looked to see whether they could find anything poisonous, loosened her corset, rubbed off her makeup and lipstick, washed her with water and beer, but it was all of no use: the poor child was dead, and remained dead. They laid her across their beds, and for three days the seven trolls took turns saying goodbye, in the most intimate ways possible, to their Snow White. And then they wept for her.

  They were going to bury her, but she still looked as if she were living, for she still had her blood red lips. They said, "We cannot bury her in the dark ground," and they had a transparent coffin of mirrored-glass shards made (their price being ever so reasonable), so that she could be seen from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote her name upon it in golden letters, and that she was a King's daughter. Then they put the coffin on a mountain meadow, and one of them always stayed by it and watched it. And the woodland creatures came too, and wept for Snow White, first a goofy dog, then a singing teapot, and last a dancing lobster.

And now Snow White lay a long, long time in the glass-ceiling coffin, and she did not change, but looked as if she were asleep; for she was as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony. Only did her breasts change. Gradually they deflated.

It happened, however, that a king's son – yes, a real prince this time – was slumming and was so drunk that he went to the trolls' house to spend the night. Fortunately for them, he did not remember the night before the following morning, or that they had, giving up all hope of ever picking up a female in a bar, had settled for the shit-faced prince who had, at least, a pageboy haircut. The guileless prince believed their story that he'd accidentally sat on the spike of a broken barstool.

Rambling somewhat painfully, the prince came across the coffin on the mountain, and the beautiful Snow White within it, and read what was written upon it in golden letters. Then he said to the trolls, "Let me have the coffin, I will give you whatever you want for it."

But the trolls answered, "We will not part with it for all the gold in the world."

Then he said, "I have connections. I can get you on a TV dating game as contestants. You will be famous TV celebrities. Every woman in the land will desire you." So the trolls took pity on him and gave him the coffin in exchange for a television appearance.   

And the prince had the coffin carried away by his servants on their shoulders. And it happened that they stumbled over a giant ruby slipper, dropping the coffin, shattering it to a million pieces, as they were going round the remains of a gingerbread house; and with the shock the poisonous piece of apple which Snow White had bitten off came out of her throat.

And before long she opened her eyes, lifted up what remained of coffin lid, coffin, sat up, and was once more alive. "Oh, f…k, where am I?" she cried. "And why am I bleeding from a hundred different places? Who stole my apple?"

The seven trolls felt like jerks: Why hadn't they tried the Heimlich maneuver?

But the prince, full of joy, said, "Where are you? You are with me," which seemed pretty obvious to Snow White, who was wondering if she was bleeding to death. As he bandaged her, the prince told her what had happened, and said, "I love you more than everything in the world. Come with me to my father's palace; you shall be my wife."

That sounded like a good offer, and Snow White was willing, for she wanted a comfortable room and bed, well away from the lecherous trolls, while the slivers of glass were removed from her. Six months later, when Snow White was healed enough to be touched, her wedding to the prince was held with great show and splendor. In fact, it was a transsexual's dream.   

Snow White's wicked stepmother was bidden to the feast. When she had arrayed herself in beautiful clothes she went before a mirror she had glued together from glass shards found beside a gingerbread house, and said – "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The mirror answered snidely –

Oh, Queen, of all here in this kingdom the fairest art thou,

But the bride-to-be makes you look like a real bow-wow.

Then the wicked queen uttered a curse, and was so wretched, so utterly wretched, that she knew not what to do. At first she would not go to the wedding at all, but she had no peace, and must go to gawk at the young bride. And when she went into the ballroom, she knew it to be Snow White, but struck with rage and fear, she could not leave. Indeed, she could not move at all. The prince then had red ballet shoes put on the feet of the evil queen and bade her to dance in joy at his wedding to Snow White. And the evil queen danced, and she danced, and she danced every moment until she died. That took a long time, and by then she had became infamous as the only woman willing to slow-dance in public with the seven trolls.

Snow White became the queen of a powerful kingdom, and had her husband conquer the realm of her heedless father, Jamal the Queen-King, so that he would know that his daughter was truly alive. And Snow White bore seven children. How did she do that when her husband shot blanks and she was not a woman natural-born? Well, a queen is entitled to secrets, and a fairytale to magic and romance. It goes without saying that Snow White and her extended family lived happily ever after.

"But I'll say it anyway," concluded Sherry, who wondered, "Will Big Sue let go of my head at last?"

"Not bad for a sissy," said Big Sue. "But why did you make the villain female? You got something agin us? Is that why you put on that dress – to mock us?" She tightened her grip on Sherry's head.

"No way. I love women. I wish I were one!"

"Yeh? Then how come you killed off the lesbian – almost immediately? And no one seemed to care that she was dead. You didn't even mention a funeral. You don't like us "lezzies", do you? That's what you call us, right? Lezzies? And not just in your story."

Her grip had become a chokehold. Sherry's face was turning blue. "You got it all wrong," she gasped. "The heroine is a woman, and she wanted, desperately wanted to have sex with a woman. Hell, she wanted to shack up with another woman."

"Well, why didn't she? Weren't there any beautiful princesses around? Or do you think that all women-loving women are diesel dykes?"

Had she really said that? Big Sue, the girlfriend of Mike, the Eminem look-a-like? But then Sherry thought of "The Garage" and of the two hundred beauties who didn't give him a second look, and he replied, "Big Sue, you've got to understand – we're talking about the days of yore. It was tough being a princess then; she didn't have a choice. She had to marry a prince or they would have … tied her to a rock and had an eagle peck away at her liver everyday for eternity."

"Ouch," said Big Sue. As she was quite a boozer, she worried a lot about the well-being of her liver. "Okay, but it must have been different for regular gals – you know, the type that didn't have to marry a prince. I want you to make the next story about a lesbian, you hear!" She loosened her chokehold, but pulled at Sherry's right ear.

"The next time? But one story is all you asked for."

"Don't talk back to me, missy. I asked for an original story, and yours wasn't original enough. Didn't Disney make a movie about a blond girl who ate the porridge of seven – or was it six? – dwarfs who then blew her house down? You probably even stole the idea of the house trailer from that story. Because it would blow down real good."

"No, that was ORIGINAL!" Sherry yelped, as Big Sue pretzeled her right ear.

"Ah, hah, so you admit that some of your story wasn't original! I thought as much," said Big Sue, giving Sherry's ear one last twist. "Tell another story, and this time put in some interesting characters – you know, like you see in Disney movies. That hunter, for example, could have faked out the queen with the heart of a flying blue elephant, and the queen should've gotten advice from someone more interesting than a mirror. It could have been a gay Indian princess or a sexy – which means female, right, sissy boy? – Chinese warrior. You agree?"

Sherry nodded her head.

"Oh, and sissy, there had better be a lesbian who gets her woman in the next story – or else."

  

  

  

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