I'ma gonna mess wit yo brain!
I had a Belle et la Bete marathon the other night, I turned on the tv and they were playing the 1946 French original. So then I decided to watch the Disney version and then "Belle's Enchanted Christmas". You know, Beauty and the Beast is my favorite Disney movie ever! Beast is fuckin' sexy! Up until he transforms into professor Lupin.
Anyways, because of that I have Beast on the brain, so I came up with this fic/alternate ending/pointless smut…thing. This takes place somewhere after Belle's little stint with the wolves after they begin to get closer. First person; Belle's point of view (which in turn makes it your/my point of view! luv it). Enjoy.
Don't own the characters, just the spin.
I couldn't understand it. Yesterday the Beast was as he always was; the Beast. Then as I sat across from him at dinner I was suddenly entranced by the sway of his long thick fur, the sky blue gleam of his eyes in the firelight, the gravelly rumble of his voice. Then a waft of air brought his scent floating to me down the table. His scent was heavy, musty but slightly sweet. It was a smell that I normally passed as slightly noxious but tolerable. Now, however, it made my eyelids droop and my belly burn with need. I wanted to run my fingers through his fur, taste his thick lip…
I shook my head and quickly turned my eyes and nose back to my bowl of soup. No doubt I was in my estrus mode, but I had never been hit so strongly before. I had never felt such a burning need. Averting my eyes wasn't helping either. I seemed even more aware of him with the stray glimpses of movement from the corner of my eye than when I had been openly watching him. I just wanted to crawl under the table and…
What was I thinking? I was very aware that my face was flushed, and when I dared to lift my gaze I realized that he was aware of it too. One velvety eyebrow was raced in concern.
"Belle, a-are you alright?" he asked. The growl of his voice sent a delightful shiver down my spine. No! No it didn't!
"I'm fine," I said, lowering my spoon. "Why do you ask?"
"Your face is red. Are you sure you're not feeling feverish?"
"Of course not. I'm just a little warm from the soup and the fire," I said, indicating the glowing fireplace to my left. This was a blatant lie. The castle was so massive and drafty that the heat of the fire barely reached me. A more truthful excuse would have been that I was flushed from being half frozen, but that would just make him concerned. It didn't much matter anyway; with his thick coat of fur he was impervious to the current temperature.
"Are you liking the soup?" he asked, struggling for conversation material with his adorable awkwardness.
"It's delicious, thank you!" I assured him. Then I led him into a comfortable conversation about bizarre and interesting food items I'd heard or read about. It's amazing how like a naughty little boy he is. He seemed so much more at home in 'gross-out' stories than in actual civil conversation and there weren't any more awkward silences for the rest of the meal.
As servants cleared away the meal, he came to my side and offered an enormous paw that completely engulfed my gloved hand as I took it. He escorted my bashfully back to my room, doing his very best to act the part of a gentleman. I wasn't very inclined to judge his performance however, as my head swam with his heady scent and his body heat radiated through the icy air and thawed my shoulder. It was always breathtaking to realize just how massive he was. As he stood behind me and reached passed me to open the door I felt utterly surrounded by him. He was behind, above and on either side of me. It gave me the feeling of being safe, enclosed in warmth and security. Then a chilly draft from my opening bedroom door snapped me out of it.
I took a step into the room and turned to him. He stood slightly hunched with his nostrils flared, as I turned he straightened guiltily. Had he been sniffing me too? I was both excited and mortified by the thought. I didn't know how powerful his sense of smell was; would he recognize the scent of my need and be roused like an animal? Would he enter my room and take me this very instant? My heart raced at the thought. I stood facing him and waited.
"Well-uh. Goodnight," the Beast said with a small courteous bow.
"Goodnight." My voice sounded wooden. The door closed with a gentle click and my shoulders slumped.
What was he? Gay?
I paced the room in agitation with a hairbrush in my hand. Occasionally I would make a rough pass with it through my hair, but for the most part it was being slapped impatiently against my thigh. What was wrong with me? I was acting like a cat in heat or something!
The furniture has long since fallen asleep, all except the wardrobe who would occasionally peek at me worriedly. I turned my back to her with a twirl of my wool night gown and stationed myself at the windowsill, glaring at the gleam of moonlight on snow outside that made the dark seem bright.
The deepest part of me wanted—nay, insisted—to be touched. I could do it myself, but not in the presence of so many witnesses. And even a simple physical release would not calm the deep yearning I had. A yearning for a certain furry someone. It was so frustrating! I hurled my hairbrush against the stone wall. It bounced and fell to the floor with a wooden clatter. I ignored the nervous flinch of the wardrobe; instead I turned to the bed and climbed into it, thrusting my frozen feet beneath the heavy blankets. I could just ignore these feelings and go to sleep!
I pulled the covers up to my ears, buried my face into the embroidered pillow case and clamped my knees tight together. The bed was cold so I set my focus on high temperatures in the hope that I would will the sheets to warm faster. There was a bed warmer somewhere around my toes—I believe her name is Jacqueline—but my feet were too far gone to feel it immediately. I turned my thoughts to evening fires in my father's cottage, layers of woolen socks, sunshine on the meadow in the summer, steaming baths, thick handfuls of musky caramel fur, sad blue eyes and growling voices, enormous…
I sat bolt upright in bed, quickly prying loose a hand that had unconsciously clenched the heat between my legs. No no no!
I kicked my way out from beneath the lukewarm covers and grabbed the heavy velvet cloak from a peg in the sleep feigning wardrobe. If I couldn't sleep then I might as well go for a walk. I slipped on my slippers and started out the door and down the hall.
The castle was easy enough to get lost in, both physically and mentally. Three unknown hallways and a staircase later I was delightfully lost and surrounded by horrible twisted statues that thrilled my adrenals and gave my libido a rest. I raced on slippered tip toe through the halls, excited by the countless marvels of architecture and mystery. A thin film of sweat began to form behind my ears and beneath my breasts; the exercise was keeping the cold at bay. I climbed another staircase, taking the steps two at a time in unflattering manly bounds. I knew the suits of armor and various other decorations were watching me, but I didn't care. Perhaps if I got myself good and tired I would be able to fall asleep without a hitch.
At one point I happened across a gigantic dark ballroom. Moonlight wisped through the high planed windows to cast bizarre shadows across the pillars. With a chest bursting thrill I hopped down the steps and ran across the marble floor, all the while imagined ghastly shapes slid from the shadows and nibbled at my heels until I made it to the safety of an opposite doorway and the shades returned to normal in the blink it took me to turn around.
Ten minutes of further adventures later I was inching along the wall, balancing precariously on a shallow ledge eight inches above the floor when I realized with a start that I wasn't lost at all anymore. I was face to face with a familiar fractured gargoyle, and beyond it lay more; their broken pieces carefully brushed against the walls between their taloned feet. The hall was lined with them, and beyond their stony guard was a tall oak door whose varnish was scratched and worn with abuse.
Somehow I had ended up in the west wing.
I quickly turned on my heels and started for the staircase, ignoring a sudden reawakening of my lower brain. Food was the answer. I was just a few hallways away from the kitchen and there was always someone awake and ready to serve. I paused at the top of the stairs and glanced back at the door. The gap beneath was dark, the Beast was most likely asleep. I wonder where he did sleep? My last voyage into the room had resulted in a hasty and fearful retreat. I hadn't had time to make sense of the mess nor locate any semblance of inhabitability. But it's the only room I could guess that would be his own personal domain.
Pursing my lips, I crept along the red carpet through the gauntlet of twisted stone bodies. I clutched the cloak tight around me for fear that it would rustle and alert my presence. Even the muffled scrape of my slippers on the carpet seemed deafening. I paused when I reached the door and pressed my face against the wood, my ears perked. I could hear nothing; no pacing, no growling. Did I dare open the door? My hand went for the handle, but I quickly pulled it away as though burned.
What was I thinking? I was not going in his room! He would no doubt be furious if he caught me again, and what was I even planning on doing? It was his space, his business, I should just leave him alone.
The door eased open without a trace of a creak. I pressed my ear to the three inch crack and waited, listening. I thought I could hear breathing, distant and deep. I opened the door enough that I could slide through. The room was dark but not pitch black. The eerie glow from the glittering rose illuminated the cluttered and shredded room with a ghostly blue light. I was able to pick my way almost soundlessly through the room, following the sound of breaths. The room was musty and thick with the smells of the Beast, it became a fog in my mind that swirled and ignited a heat between my thighs.
He was nestled in a burrow of quilts and shredded wall hangings on what may have possibly once been a canopied bed. Now it was a splintered victim of rage, shorn and blasted from its original shape into a mound. Atop the mound was a mass of fur, slowly rising and falling in an effortless movement of sleep. One dog like foot hung limply over the edge, the expanse of leg further up from it was bare. He slept nude, only his cape draped carelessly across his middle kept his virtue covered.
He really did strike one with awe. His massive form rippled with muscle and power, but the folds of protective skin and fur gave him the appearance of softness. I wanted to rub my hands over him and feel the slide of skin over muscle. I took a timid step forward and stubbed my toe on a stone. It rolled forward several inches, knocking loudly on its brother stones. The Beast snorted. I froze. The big paw twitched and was withdrawn into the bed. The furry shape shifted and snorted until the Beast had rolled onto his back. The cape slipped, I could see everything.
As though to assure that my attention was drawn there, a massive hand drifted down and scratched sleepily at a testicle, then withdrew to rest across his belly. My hand had unconsciously moved to my mouth to suppress my squeaks of surprise. Apparently everything about the Beast was massive! Even flaccid his manhood draped across his thigh with a rather daunting girth. And it was furless which made it an even greater shock against the long tresses of fur that kept it partially hidden. The skin was the color of chocolate. In all honesty the thing reminded me of Philippe's which he would so gaudily display when he was out to pasture.
I licked my dry lips and took a cautious step backwards. It was time to leave!
My feet seemed to have a mind of their own, for they then began moving forward. My eyes strained in the gloom, searching for his face. I wanted to see his face as he was sleeping. I wondered what he dreamed; would his brows and mouth twitch with nightmares? Perhaps I could offer him some kind of comfort as he slumbered.
It was quite the opposite, actually. His face was slack and calm, one hand draped across his mouth, obscuring the large gleaming teeth. His eyes were closed, his lashes lightly brushing his high cheekbones. He had such beautiful eyes. He moved suddenly, his hand dropping from his mouth as he startled in his sleep, drawing in a sharp grunting breath. His heavy eyebrows furrowed for a minute, nearly swallowing his closed eyes until they relaxed back into slumbering bliss.
I wanted to touch him!
No! No! You absolutely can NOT touch him! my own personal conscience hissed. I knelt down beside the sleeping figure. I just wanted to watch him a little longer.
No! Just get up and leave before he wakes up! My hand lifted and crossed over to him, gently stroking the short velvety fur of his eyebrows. I'd touched him before, of course. The hairs of his hand were short and slick against his flesh, the fur of his arm were silky and wispy, almost like human hair as was the rest of the fur of his body. This, however, was a thick carpet of peach fuzz. The Beast sighed at my touch, a deep rumbling sound like a cat's purr.
Okay, you've touched him, now leave! My hand slid down the planes of his face, the purr continued. I almost wanted to laugh. I stroked the long hair of his face, letting the locks slip between my fingers until my fingertips were brushing the plumpness of his bottom lip. Ignoring the screams inside my head, I leaned forward. His breath brushed my face, the hot air wisping my loose hair and reminding me how chilled my nose still was. His breath was a little foul from sleep, still I continued to lean down until my lips brushed his.
"Mmm," he mumbled in his sleep, the corner of his mouth twitching. That was enough, I would go now. I pulled back and cast one last look at his peaceful expression and found him looking back. His eyes were open, black and unfocused in the darkness.
"Belle," he whispered, his hand drifting towards my face. My mouth gaped speechlessly; I couldn't find the words to apologize or explain. He didn't seem angry though. His thick fingers curled in my hair and gently tugged it to his nose.
"Belle," he moaned, "the scent of you, I can barely take it anymore."
"What can't you take?" I asked, my tongue finally untying.
"I can't take it, I need you." His pleading words made me shiver. I needed him too.
"I'm yours," I whispered. My hand raised and met his, grasping his thick thumb. He jumped and drew away as though he'd been burned.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he cried. I jumped at the sudden change in demeanor.
"What are you talking about? You seemed happy to see me a second ago!" I asked, dazed.
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE A DREAM!" he yelled, then seemed to take notice of his undressed state as a quick move of the paw whisked his cape modestly over himself. I blinked incredulously. My head was still fuzzy with pent up sexual tension, but I was beginning to feel the icy tendrils of indignation.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again. His voice was now a threatening hiss.
"I couldn't sleep!" I said lamely, but my voice still carried enough force to make him blink. Then he blinked again.
"Well, why did you come here?" he demanded.
"I…got lost!" Well it was true. Even though I did know my current location, I did get lost at one point. He made a face of inner turmoil, as though he had several other comebacks or demands. Something within him seemed to win out though and he sat up awkwardly, pulling his cape firmly into place.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked begrudgingly. If his pelt were gone, it could be possible that he was blushing.
"I'm just a little restless," I said, turning my own face away. No doubt I was blushing as well. I was still thinking about what he'd said, and half asleep or not I was sure he had heard my reply. The silence between us was heavy and embarrassing.
"Er…if there's something you need to talk about…" he said, trailing off.
"No, it's not something to talk about. I'll just go back to my room, I'm sorry for waking you," I said, standing.
"Wait, I'll take you back," he said. He slipped out of his bed like a shadow and appeared beside me, modestly trousered and fixing his cape into place. "You've lost your way, haven't you?"
"Um…yes. Thank you," I said. He reached and took my hand. He jumped as my fingers brushed the sensitive pad of his palm.
"You're hands are freezing!" he scolded, his grip closing around my hand. This little movement pulled me closer to him, uncomfortably close. He froze, his hand still curled around mine. I looked bashfully up at him through my eyelashes. We stayed still for a moment, then he seemed to think better of something for he pulled his gaze away from mine and tugged me towards the door, leading me through the clutter and broken furniture. As he opened the door, I placed my free hand lightly on his arm. He stopped, fingers stretched towards the handle. He turned back to me and something passed between our eyes, for one moment we stood there gazing through the haze of darkness, then in the next I was in his arms and his face was pressed to mine.
Kissing…was impossible. But it didn't seem to matter. I sucked and nibbled his bottom lip, then ran my mouth up to the softness of his upper. He couldn't do anything in return since his teeth were an obstacle, but one hand was clamped behind my head, stroking my hair and forcing my face harder against his. Then he moved down and his nose was pressed against my throat, inhaling me with a throaty groan that made me groan in return. He began drifting lower, but the lace collar of my nightgown caught him up making him sneeze in surprise.
Two effortless leaps later and we were back to his bed. I was set on the edge, hands busy trying to remove the obstacle of the horrible wool gown while his nose ran through my loose hair. It was a little distracting and I almost couldn't manage the throat ribbon. When it was finally untied my hands were pulled to him like a magnet, digging into the thick soft fur of his chest and feeling the taut muscles beneath.
"Undress me!" I gasped. He grabbed two handfuls of my pajamas and ripped them like tissue paper.
"I meant pull the dress off over my head, but that works too," I murmured, tugging his goat-like beard until I found that tender bottom lip again.
"Sorry," he said, too impassioned to be embarrassed.
"Mmm…" I said, grabbing at the clasp of his cape. I had full access to his upper body even if it stayed on, but I wanted him naked! A little fumbling and it floated down beside us on the bed. The Beast lowered me down on top of it, his large hands falling to my breasts with an unexpected tenderness and hesitation. I was struck by a sudden realization; he had never done anything like this before! Well of course he hasn't, he didn't exactly have much access to fleshy females, and definitely not many (or any) that weren't repulsed by the species differences. This seemed odd, we were French after all. I had given up my virginity by the age of twelve! Well, nothing for it then. I would have to teach him.
My legs lifted until I could grasp the waistband of his breeches with my toes. One skillful tug and his pants were down with a pop of his tail—and another elevated appendage—to pool around his knees. He made a small grunt of surprise then lost his balance as his pants caught his legs. He fell forward and landed full on me. It was probably safe to say that he weighed a solid four or five hundred pounds. My breath was forced out with an eloquent 'oomph!" to which he repositioned himself with an incoherent apology. I coughed and gasped for breath, all the while running my hands up and down through the fur of his chest. He seemed to take this as me struggling to push him away and he quickly rolled a safe distance from me.
Well, I wouldn't be having any of that! I rolled right along with him, crawled onto his chest and grabbed his horns. He responded obediently to my tugs and lifted his face so that I could run my lips over his eyelids. His hands felt the crease of my spine and followed it down until he had a buttock clasped in each paw. I groaned, goaded by the tickle of him between my legs. The fur that touched me was soon wet and clung to my inner thighs. His fingers trailed lower, grasping and probing, feeling my body with nervous awe. I almost screamed when a claw touched my moist core. Curiously, he dabbed the finger into me, pressing ever so slightly. I wiggled against him, grunting like an animal. His fingers were thick, comparable to an average man's genitalia. It probed inside of me and I began to ride it, tugging his horns in time with my movement, driving him deeper until he touched a spot that made sparks go off behind my eyes.
It was perhaps embarrassingly quick, the speed of my orgasm. But embarrassment had no power over me now. Hungry for more I crawled backward, leaving a moist trail until I could straddle his thighs. He was hard and ready, his little Beast gorged to the size of a salami. It was an impossible feat, but I felt I had to try! I could barely wrap both hands around it, the skin was almost feverish and it was heart-breakingly soft. But beneath it was a thick, solid rod that throbbed slightly in my hands. The Beast purred at my touch and his stomach muscles twitched as he tried to maintain control of himself. I squoze him tightly and rubbed my hands up and down, making fluid undulating movements with my wrist. His hips bucked upward and his purr grew louder, sporadically chopped by small gasps.
I stroked him for a while until the rumble in his chest was completely broken by pants and cries. Then I lowered my mouth. I could barely fit his head in. I clamped my lips tight around the swollen tip and sped up the movements of my hands. The Beast whimpered, his hips twisting with the uncontainable need to thrust. One of my hands dropped to tug playfully at his testicles. They were fuzzy, like a rabbit pelt. He whispered my name, pleading.
I sucked sharply—making him squeak of all things. Then both hands were back, taking it in turns to slide up, up, up, up. As one hand slid from base to tip, the alternate would take its turn at the base and follow suit; I was continuously pulling him faster and faster. His hips lifted in the air, raising me higher and higher until my legs dangled in space and my toes barely brushed the blankets.
Then he came, hard. I had to spit him out and wrap my arms and legs around him to keep from being tossed as he thrashed. He was enormous, I could feel the length of him from my belly button to my collar bone. My breasts were smashed on either side of him and he utilized them for his gratification. Burning hot liquid shot up and coated the underside of my chin. Spurt after spurt, it kept coming. The Beast was roaring, a blissfully agonized cry of blind passion. Then it was over and he dropped back to the bed with a heavy thump! that made us bounce together.
I wasn't done yet. Neither was he. He was still hard against my stomach and his eyes burned in the semi-darkness. He sat up and lifted me so that our faces were almost touching. With a gentle growl his long tongue traced my jaw, licking up his spilled seed that dribbled down my throat and into the cleft of my breasts. I gasped and wrapped my arms around his head as he cleaned me. His tongue was hot and wet. With a dazed sense of dreaminess I realized that I was no longer cold. Even my perpetually frozen feet were hot, buried as they were against his sides. His arms were wrapped around my waist as though I were a doll, keeping me gently pinioned against him. The feel of his teeth on my breast made me shudder. I bet he could fit the whole thing in his mouth. I kind of wanted him to try.
Suddenly I was hoisted in the air. Slightly panicked I grabbed at his horns and wrapped my legs around his neck for stability. This seemed to be what he wanted for his roving tongue slid inside of my openly proffered opening. I cried out sharply, digging my fingernails into the wood-like surface of his horns. His tongue moved like a snake, quickly darting within and tasting my walls, moving with wonder over the different textures. He had a long tongue! And it was flexible! The base of it stretched me and the wet wriggling movements within made me sway dangerously on my perch. I was feeling light headed, I begged him to stop while my body begged for more.
A finger probed beside the tongue and tugged me, pulling me open a little wider, then a little wider until it was stroking just inside of me. My head was tossing and shaking. It was unbearable.
"Please!" I whimpered. "I want you! I want you, please!" The Beast growled and pulled with a sharp little jerk. I screeched and clawed, one hand grabbing a fistful of sandy hair. His tongue moved a little faster, guided by my internal flutters.
"Stop!" I cried. "I don't want it like this! Please! Together!" Although I said it, I was a disappointed when his tongue left me. His finger stayed as he lowered me back to his chest, it eased me open wider. I collapsed against him and gasped for breath. My whole body tingled with my desires, I wanted him. I wanted all of him. He continued to stretch me for a moment. There was little I could do but whimper and mewl into his soft coat.
I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed his hand and squoze, shoving him out and crawling backwards. He was hard and twitching. The remaining dribbles of his seed had melted into clear liquid along his shaft. I grabbed him and guided him to me, groaning when we finally touched.
"Wait, I don't want to hurt you," he gasped. I ignored him and eased down. There was a pinch, but it wasn't bad. I gasped and screwed my eye shut, stilling myself for a moment. He was touching my arms helplessly, trying to persuade me to stop. I settled my weight firmly on top of him, shoving him deeper. His arguments were cut off by a low, guttural oath. His hands grasped my hips tightly—perhaps a little too tightly. I grabbed his thumbs and squoze. He seemed to get the hint and his grip eased. I pushed down harder. There was a painful flash as he met the end of me. I reached down tentatively with one hand and felt him. There was still so much of him left!
"Help me," I gasped, grabbing again for the paw at my hip. I covered what was left of him with his hand, giving him a slight squeeze. He understood and I felt the carpal muscles clench around himself. Then I began to rock. It was torture to slide up and down his shaft, I was being stretched far beyond my capacity. I rolled my body instead, and this was satisfactory for the both of us. He was pressing me on every side, and I had him held tightly. I twisted my hips, spinning him inside of me in a way that made us both moan and clench. We were quickly growing close to our climax and with it came a certain loss of control. He was rubbing now, with slight jerking spasms and the grating movement no longer hurt me. His tight fist acted as a bumper, keeping him a safe distance within me as his faint jolts turned into short hungry thrusts.
I wasn't sure when my orgasm started; my perception on everything in the world became putty. Perhaps it was the second he began to really move, or perhaps it was the moment he cried out in a voice that ripped my soul in two. Whenever it happened, it didn't seem to stop. My body was tight, stretched to the point where I could no longer move. I didn't need to move. His free hand at my hips was lifting me and lowering me as though I weighed nothing. My head drooped, my vision faded in and out of blackness as my hands grappled and sought for something solid to hold onto. It found his arm and I gripped him as tightly as I could muster which was—at the moment—quite feebly.
It lasted forever, and yet not long enough. Either far too soon or far too late he came and my insides were jettisoned with his hot stream. White fluid dribbled around the edge of our union and somewhere in the frail grip of my consciousness I listened to his howls and shivered.
I came to sometime later, cradled in a cozy nest of his body. He was wrapped around me, one hand idly stroking my face as his tail swished lazily across our tangled legs. I was covered in his cloak and my whole body felt weightless.
"Are you alright?" he whispered.
"Wonderful," I murmured, touching his beard. He sighed and tilted his head so that my fingers brushed his lip.
"I love you," he admitted. His eyes were cast downward, fearfully avoiding my reaction to his revelation. I giggled and rolled onto my side, burrowing into his chest.
"I love you too," I commended. His eyes flashed briefly to mine, then there was a sudden blinding gleam of light that surrounded us. His fur wavered with an intangible breeze and he sat up, eyes cast incredulously at his hands. He was being lifted into the air. I scrabbled away from the bed and crouched on the floor, eyes wide with horror. The fur of his hands melted and the thick joints shrank away, the claws disappearing. His whole body was undergoing the same change. The loose skin was gone and beneath was pink hairless flesh stretched across rippling muscles. His flaccid penis also shrank, drawing against his body. The last to change was his face. Still staring wondrously at his new pink hand, the Beast's cheeks fluttered until a final flash of light knocked me back and dazzled my sight.
When my vision cleared, a man was sitting on the bed, slowly taking in the view of his body. I was stunned…he was a rather ugly man.
"Belle, it's me!" he said. His voice was just as incredulous as I felt. I blinked at the man who was now dropping to his knees in front of me, a gorgeous pair of blue eyes boring into mine.
"It is you," I said meekly. My eyes dropped down. All around us the castle was leaping to life. Joy and light seeped out of every crack and the dull gray of the walls suddenly shone pristine white. There was a jingling pop and a coat stand in the corner turned into a weasely little man with tiny bulge in the front of his trousers. He gave a little squeal and dashed out of the room. I didn't notice, however. My attention was drawn downward. Admittedly, the man was still generous in length and girth, but it was now less than half the size of my new standard.
Sobbing, I leapt to my feet and clutched the cape around me, dashing from the room and a rather stunned hideous prince.
I think the whole purpose of this story is the hope that I have mortally offended someone and everything they love. haha.
If I were Belle, this is how the story would have ended. And the whole sneaking through the castle like a four-year-old on crack. I would totally do that!
Note: Estrus is dangerous. I once spent all of Inglorious Basterds reminding myself why it would be bad to crawl on my friend's lap and taste his tonsils.