BRM 2017 June 2017 - Page 32

The Bitch-Queen was aghast at the rush of the peasants within her womb, and nearly passed out as they swarmed around her tossing basil-topped carrot cake, saving face by ducking just in thyme. The peasant frenzy carried on for hours, as the villagers methodically removed their missing studs and maidens one by one, while simultaneously keeping the Bitch-Queen at bay. A group had brought in hydroponically grown highly nourished carrots that were hard as nails and sharp as the Bitch-Queen’s tongue. The peasants knew her attraction to sweet pussy and had a particularly sweet maiden do a cabbage-plant on the Bitch-Queen’s face smothering her in the intoxicating sweetness. As the distracted queen ate her way into a coma, the others used the special carrots to secure her to the Royal bed now lined with lettuce. Once secured, the sweet maiden ceased her smothering of the Bitch-Queen’s face, fixing her peasant dress as she stood. In a fitting recourse, the rest of the villagers then began to adorn the Bitch-Queen, after removing all of her clothing, with onion rings pierced into the nipples. A lipstick red apple stuffed into her mouth, a pile of male-order King Crabs that came with a guarantee to itch for years, laid in waves over her clam box, which also had a free moray eel that they let wiggle into the Bitch-Queen’s anal canal, providing electro-shocks through her body enough to turn the apple into a wilted pile of applesauce.

The storming of the castle complete, the peasants all moved into the castle, every family having enough room to be comfortable, and now dry, happy, secure in having the stolen villagers back together to live happily in the end of days. The birds began to sing once again, now that the hammering ceased. The land became even more productive because all of the grass huts became part of the growing fields. The Queen, de-flowered of her Bitch status was kept on her bed of lettuce, and even Ed’Lube wouldn’t touch her with those King Crabs ready to attach themselves to anyone unlucky enough to try. He did remain loyal to her, by keeping her bed fresh, and lubing her dry throat when she needed it. Though not confirmed, the story is that her tunnel to the bowels was permanently plugged insuring access was forever denied to all comers. The villagers were never happier, knowing with the extra garden space, they had plenty of food and would never run out of thyme.