Rumplestilskin

Rumplestilskin Once upon a time there was an enchanted forest full of fairy tale folk but that was a long, long time ago. The forest is still there of course and magical things still happen but an altogether more modern crowd live there now. And a few of them are fairies. Tom locked the door to his cottage, popped the key in his handbag, and strolled off into the woods. He'd had the cottage for over a month now, it had been his Gran's but she was in a home now, and the man who had been renting it had gone to live with his girlfriend. As he walked down the forest path Tom thought about Phil, the previous occupant, and the many times they'd dressed as women together. Phil was only into it because it made him horny whereas Tom did it because he thought the clothes looked good on him (which they did) and because they made him feel feminine. Today he was wearing a pair of cream coloured boots with an inch of platform on the sole and a nice wide high heel so that he wouldn't ruin them walking through the undergrowth. A pair of dark brown snakeskin effect leather pants encased his long slim legs and a loose fitting green embroidered blouse with tie sleeves, that he liked to leave loose and dangling, completed his outfit. He'd let his black hair grow out and it was now long enough to wear tied back in a pony tail that left his face open and clean but for the slight traces of make up that subtly highlighted his eyes and lips. Tom mused to himself as he sashayed through the trees, that although he felt very girly and adored the thought (and deed) of having sex with men he wasn't at all sure that he'd like to actually BE a woman. Even if there were a magic pill he could take he wasn't at all sure he'd do it, although the idea of wearing sexy lingerie and stockings, lying on his back and having a man on top of him giving him a good seeing to made him go weak at the knees. Still, losing his cock was a big step and he didn't like the idea. It was with his pretty head full of ideas of romantic wedding nights and handsome men that he walked into the clearing and stopped suddenly. Two large men on horseback were allowing their steeds to drink in the small stream and Tom had just walked out right in front of them. "Oh no." He thought to himself as he recognised them. One was Harold, King of the land, the other his son, Prince Stephen. Harold was a large, bear of a man, burly and broad shouldered with wild hair and a beard, both shot through with grey as he was getting on in years. Stephen was as tall as his father but not as bulky, still well built and muscular but not as brutish. Tom almost ran back for the trees but the two men looked up and saw him and as they did so the sun lit up Stephen's face showing a handsome, masculine cut to his cheeks and jaw and causing his eyes to shimmer like sapphires in a waterfall. Tom felt his legs going rubbery, as Prince Stephen was quite simply the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen and his heart was lost to him completely. Stephen on the other hand looked at Tom with a disinterested expression and turned away, crushing Tom's hope in an instant. "Well!" King Harold said, spurring his horse forward until he towered over Tom. "What do we have here?" He smiled lecherously and Tom was startled to realise the King fancied him. "Aren't you the pretty young thing?" He turned in his saddle, the leather creaking loudly and the horse shifting to compensate. "Come over here and say hello, Stephen." His son obediently trotted over and said a listless hello. Tom smiled at him and looked up coyly, "hello." he said, lightening his voice and managing not to sound like a comedian's idea of a woman's voice. The King began to chat and Tom was forced to respond, noticing how the old man's eyes kept wandering away from his face and down to where his fake breasts hung. Tom kept glancing over at the prince but never managed to make eye contact despite many attempts. He hadn't been concentrating properly on what he was saying so when the King said "Splendid, we'll send a carriage for you tomorrow at eight," he had to ask why. The King laughed and said it wouldn't do for a dinner guest to make their own way to the palace and Tom realised he'd been invited to dine with the King. Before he could try and wriggle out of it Harold turned his horse and with a hearty farewell rode off down a path with his son in tow. It was a little before eight fifteen and Tom was almost petrified with fear as the carriage made its way towards the palace. He couldn't NOT show up, the King would be furious, but neither could he spend the whole evening there, what if someone realised he wasn't a woman, the King would be just as upset if not more so. He had a horrible thought that the old monarch might try and get him drunk and get into his knickers in which case it would probably mean execution. But against all the horrible things that could happen there was one ray of hope and that was Prince Stephen. Just meeting him again would be great and maybe he could talk to him and get him interested. The carriage stopped and Tom took a moment to fumble under his skirt to make sure he was properly "tucked", his testicles pushed up into his pelvis and his cock held folded back and flat by his tight lycra girdle. The carriage door opened and a footman held out his hand so Tom took it and stepped daintily down onto the courtyard. The front of the palace was lit up with bright lights, every window beaming out into the night and coloured floodlights illuminating the white marble from the front making it look like a Disney extravaganza. The colours were picked up and reflected by the shimmering silver fabric of his skirt making it look like a metallic rainbow his silver blouse the same. A pair of open toed silver sandals peeped out as he walked forwards, his toes painted carefully to match the stick on French manicured nails on his fingers. He'd even got his hair done and the dark swept up mass contrasted beautifully with the brilliant look of his clothes. He followed the footman up the stairs and as they walked along the marble hall, Tom's heels clicking loudly in the echoing vault he realised he really needed to pee. REALLY needed. "Er...excuse me?" He said and the footman stopped. "Where's the...um...ladies room?" The footman glanced at a clock on the wall and turned and hurried down the hall to a small door. "Second on the left miss, but you'd best be quick." Tom followed the directions and pushed into a cubicle and hiked up the front of his skirts and carefully pulled his cock out before peeing into the bowl. He didn't have time to do the whole womanly thing of sitting down and hiking up his skirts, besides he wasn't used to doing it that way and would probably end up getting his outfit wet in some embarrassing location. He finished up, dabbing with a small piece of toilet paper before opening his legs and man handling his manhood back into its unobtrusive location. The footman was right outside the door when he emerged and gave him a funny look and Tom wondered whether he should have tried not to pee so noisily straight into the bowl like a man. Too late now. He was handed off to a more senior servant who took him into the reception room where the King and his son were waiting. Tom was offered a seat and he nervously sat down whereupon the King offered him a glass of wine, which Tom didn't dare refuse. Stephen was still as breath-takingly handsome as he'd been in the forest and Tom knew that even if he did get into trouble he'd make the most of his opportunity while it presented itself. Tom was escorted from the great dining room feeling both dejected and deliriously happy. The meal had gone well and no one had ever questioned Tom's gender even when he'd been asked his name and replied "Tom" automatically. "Er...it's short for...Tomara." He'd finished lamely but Harold had thought it a delightful name and somehow had got the impression that Tomara was a bit of a tomboy, hence her broad shoulders. It had looked a bit dicey for a few minutes but he'd got away with it. Even Stephen had warmed to him and after his initial indifference the two had spent most of the evening chatting to each other leaving poor old Harold a bit of a gooseberry. As he followed the footman down the small corridor Tom felt he was dancing on air. He was completely in love with Stephen even if it was a love that would never be returned. He had visions of becoming best friends with the prince and his not minding that his new best friend was a big girly poof. The door closed behind him and Tom suddenly realised he was in a room and that they descended below ground level. He turned and saw the footman at the door, locking it. "Wh... what are you doing?" "I've got some good news and some bad news for you, young lady." The footman said putting the key in his pocket and walking over to the small desk which he propped himself against. "The bad news is I know what you keep in you panties, MISTER." Tom went cold; maybe he was going to be executed after all. "The good news is that the prince you fancy is a bender too." Tom was shocked at the revelation. Stephen was gay? Was that why he hadn't been much interested in "Tomara" the woman? "He is?" He whispered, hardly daring to hope. "Well considering how many times he's gobbled my dick, I'd be amazed if he wasn't. Oh yes, he likes a bit of cock does Stephen." This was a fantastic discovery, Tom realised and he broke into a broad grin. "Trouble is," the footman continued, "he thinks you're a girl so he won't invite you back and you missed your chance to tell him that your panties contain just what he likes." It was a devastating thought to Tom that things could have been perfect if he hadn't missed his opportunity. He smiled at the footman. "Couldn't you tell him? About me?" He frowned, "unless you're in love with him too?" "Me?" The footman laughed. "I'm not a queer. You won't catch me letting a bloke do anything to me like that. I don't mind a poofter giving me a gobble or getting my end away with one but only 'cause it beats doing it alone." He footman pursed his lips and thought in a very theatrical way. "Are you a betting man?" Tom shrugged, not understanding the topic change. "If you can guess my name I'll tell the prince your dirty little secret." "You will!" Tom cried with glee, "oh thank you." "Ah, ah. You haven't asked what happens if you lose." Tom frowned. "What?" "I get to have my way with you, you little tranny queer." Tom gulped. His only gay experience had been blowing Phil which he'd enjoyed every bit as much as Phil had and while it was a bit seedy he saw no reason not to agree. "Good." Said the footman. "You've got three goes." "Smith." Tom said immediately but the man shook his head. "Jones?" Another shake and a rub of his crotch. Tom paused and had a longer think what were servants called? "Jeeves?" The man smiled and shook his head. "What is it?" Tom asked. "I'm not telling you." The footman replied, undoing his trousers. Tom sighed and started to kneel but the man grabbed his arm and pulled him back up. "I'm going to fuck you." He said and turned Tom around and bent him over the desk stomach first. "Fuck me?" Tom said, not understanding, as he felt the man's hands on the silky material that covered his rump. The hands were large and not gentle as they groped Tom's bottom through the gauzy fabric of his skirts and as he felt the man's stiff prick rub up against his cheeks he realised what he meant by fucking. It felt rather nice having a man's hands on his backside especially with the sensuous material between their flesh and Tom wondered whether he might actually enjoy this new experience. The footman began pulling the long skirt up and flicking it up onto Tom's back, exposing his pale grey stockings and black, firm control knickers that had held everything in place throughout the evening despite several raging hard-ons. He felt the footman's thick fingers hook around the waist and then in one quick movement he yanked them down to Tom's knees, his cock and balls springing free, warm and sweaty after their confinement. For a moment the footman fondled his legs inside the stockings which turned Tom on a great deal but then they moved up to his ass cheeks and gabbed them roughly. "You've got a great ass, just like a woman's." The man said. "And I'm gonna shaft you until you scream like a woman, you fucking queen." Tom gasped as the man shoved a finger right up his asshole all the way in and he almost came right then and then. The sensation of something wriggling in his anus was astonishing and it was all he could do to keep his legs straight and not collapse. "You like that don't you, you fucking homo." Tom moaned in agreement and "oohed" as the man slid a second finger into his tight backside. After a few minutes of two fingered massage Tom's ass had opened wide as he struggled to contain the delightful pleasure it was giving him. There was some more pressure behind him then his ass stretched just a little further and then felt full as something touched his scrotum. With a start Tom realised his ass was full of cock and that the man's ball bag was brushing against his own. As it dawned on him he felt the cock begin to withdraw and he realised he didn't want it to but the footman was doing exactly what he'd promised and was fucking him like a woman, pulling out and sliding back in again. Tom's ass clenched around the long, fat cock of the footman and his mouth opened wide as if by reflex. The feeling of being had by another man up the ass was another piece missing from Tom's life and he felt almost complete as the hot, hard meat slid in and out of his backside faster and faster. If only Stephen were here, Tom thought as his jaw opened and closed like a fish as though he needed two cocks at the same time. The man's big hands grabbed Tom's waist and began pulling him back onto his cock as he thrust, allowing him to get in a little deeper and sending thrilling shivers through Tom's body. It was a revelation how good having a cock in him felt, the sensitive innards of his bottom picking up on every little movement inside him and he imagined he could feel every vein and ridge on that rampant tool that was fucking him. In his mind he imagined the hands squeezing his hips were Stephens, and that the cock pummelling his tight hole was the prince's also. He moaned in ecstasy at the thought of Stephen standing behind him, hips thrusting and giving his "girlfriend" a good seeing to. The moans grew in intensity and before he knew it Tom's stiff prick began jerking then a jet of come spurted into his skirts, his ass muscles spasming and clenching around the footman's dick causing him to grunt and unload a torrent of come into Tom's hot backside. For a moment the two men were motionless as they came then they groaned together and Tom sagged onto the desk while his lover staggered backwards and collapsed onto a chair. After a moment the footman did up his trousers then stepped over to the still delirious Tom and yanked his knickers up to cover the gaping hole that had sperm dribbling from it and down his thigh. "You fucking nancy boy." The footman said in disgust as Tom swayed upright and sorted out his skirts. "Any time you want another guess just come and see me. Now get out." Tom walked awkwardly out of the room and up the stairs his legs still weak from the orgasm and other sensations he'd just experienced. His ass was sore but in a glorious way and the feel of the footman's juices growing cold on his leg was such a turn on as was the squelchy feeling from a hole full of jism. This was something he wanted to happen a lot more often. "Alright," the footman said, smirking, "I'll give you another three goes." Tom smiled. If he won the footman would tell the prince about the beautiful girl he'd had dinner with and the surprise in her knickers, if he lost the footman would give him another good fucking. He had dressed a bit less formally this time with a bright cerise blouse covering the swell of his fake breasts and exposing a deep slash of throat, with a short black skirt made of leather that was just long enough to stop his stocking tops showing when he walked. His long legs were on display to the world wrapped in fine black hose and a pair of high black stilettos completed his "ready to be fucked" outfit. "But," the footman continued, "if you fail I get to fist you." "Pardon?" Tom said, unfamiliar with the term, and disappointed he wouldn't be fucked again. The footman made a fist. "I get to shove this up your little homo arse." "Oh." Tom said, nonplussed. The man had big hands and he wasn't at all sure his tight little bubble bottom would accommodate something that big. "So, first guess?" Tom blew out a breath then thought. "Arnold?" "No." "Phillip?" "No." Tom sighed. This could take a while. Still, there were compensations. "Er...it's not Tom is it?" The man smiled. "Nope. Now get up on my desk, you little fairy." Tom obediently clambered up, in as lady like a manner as he could, and lay down on the desk slipping out of his panties while the footman opened a drawer and took out a jar of something. As Tom settled down, his back flat across the desktop, leg drawn up at the edge, something horrible touched his arse. He gasped at its coldness then realised it was the footman rubbing a large dollop of Vaseline into his puckered little bud. Not knowing what was to come Tom was a little apprehensive as he stared at the ceiling. The man wasn't really going to shove a fist up his backside was he? He gazed up at the plasterwork on the ceiling, looking at all the cracks and bits that had been painted over as he felt a finger slide easily up his bottom and wriggle around like a worm. He concentrated on the ceiling, knowing that if he thought about what was being done to him he'd get a raging hard on and his ass would tense up. He felt his ass being stretched as another finger pushed in and it got difficult not to get excited at the thought of another man shoving things up him but he made himself count the spider webs in the corners of the room and then the number of moulded panels, tried to see faces or countries in the patterns of cracks and so on and son on, all the while his ass was being pushed and extended. Tom gasped as he felt something push in, something with a wide ridge then a narrower part and looked between his thighs expecting to see one of those but plugs he'd seen in a shop. To his amazement the footman's forearm emerged from the slick goo of lubricant plastered around his anus, just an inch of the rubber glove he was wearing visible. Tom was astonished. The man's whole HAND was inside him. Immediately his cock sprang to attention and he groaned as he felt the fingers flexing and bunching inside the tight confines of his bottom. His stocking clad legs began to twitch and bounce in the air as the footman slowly moved his hand deep inside his hot hole and Tom's stomach felt kind of nauseous from the pressure below and as he looked down, across the swell of his blouse to where this man was fucking him with a whole fist between his long, feminine legs Tom groaned and jetted an enormous spurt of come almost six feet into the air followed by several more surges that gushed up and out, dribbling down his cock into his crotch. "Yeah, you like that, don't you?" The footman said, beginning a fucking rhythm with his arm, pushing in deeper than Tom thought possible then pulling out far enough so that his bunched fist stretched the ring of his anus as wide as it could go. "Uh huh." Tom agreed, falling back to stare at the ceiling, the sensations from his asshole as it pulsed and flexed under the pounding it was being given by the man's big hand. The footman had undone his flies and was playing with his own cock one handed as he drove in and out of Tom's slurping hole. The rhythm became disjointed and irregular as the footman brought himself to a climax and with a groan he gave a final shove into Tom and then spewed his own jism over Tom's still hard cock. Tom shuddered and was amazed to find himself coming a second time as the fist was pulled out of his clenching rectum, his small gush dribbling down his shaft to mingle with the footman's stringy globs. He groaned and lay back, legs wide and arms above his head, a cold draft on his gaping anus. Now he knew what "ravished," meant. He had been totally used and abused and was exhausted, but it felt wonderful. He had a moment or two to enjoy it then the footman got him off the table, wiped some of the worst of the goo off him with a cloth and got his knickers back on. It was all Tom could do to stand, let alone walk, his ass was so sore he couldn't walk without limping but he didn't mind. The footman showed him to the door. "If you want to try again I'm sure I can think up something to do to you, you dirty bitch." He closed the door leaving Tom alone in the corridor. For a moment he just stood there, still not quite back in the real world, his ass feeling very strange, tender and aching and the cool slimy feel of the lube still stuck there that oozed when he walked made him feel even more feminine. He was so preoccupied by the whole thing that he didn't hear the footsteps and he jumped when a voice said "Hello again." He turned and saw Prince Stephen standing there smiling in a curious way. "What are you doing here?" "Oh," Tom croaked, his mouth dry. He cleared his throat and lightened his voice. "I just came to see one of the footmen." He said, nodding towards the door. The Prince looked at the door and back at Tom with a slight frown. "Not under-footman Rumplestilskin?" "That's his NAME?" Tom said incredulously knowing he'd never have guessed that in a million years. "Yes. What did you want to see him for?" Tom realised that this was his chance. "Well he told me you were gay, and the funny thing is..." He got no further. "WHAT!" The Prince exploded. "He told you that?" His anger was obvious and Tom cringed. "It's alright, you see..." "You'd better go." The Prince ordered. "But..." "GO!" He repeated and Tom found his legs moving him away without his brain saying anything, the Prince's tone was so commanding. Before he could change his mind the Prince disappeared through the door and Tom was left alone in the corridor. "Shit." He said and walked awkwardly home.