


Modern Fairy Tales Ch. 02

by slyc_willie



Category: Chain Stories
Published: 2008-03-08
Updated: 2008-03-08
Packaged: 2017-04-29 14:22:47
Chapters: 1
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/modern-fairy-tales-ch-02
Author URL:
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=748325&page=submissions
Summary: Hansel & Gretel: what really happened . . . .
Erotica Tags: Brother Sister, Diner, Gretel, Hansel, Incest, Oral Sex,
Reluctant, Witch
Average Rating: 4.51






        Modern Fairy Tales Ch. 02


** Ch. 02: Hansel &amp; Gretel**  
  
_(Author's note: The tale of Hansel and Gretel is a strangely simple one. The
mother, for reasons of poverty, decides to abandon her children. She tries,
they come back, she tries again, and the children get captured by a witch whom
they then have to kill to be free. But I've always thought that there was a
little more to it than that. And thus, the following story._  
  
_My thanks to Selena_Kitt for the idea and my inclusion into this effort. We
have a lot of talent on board, and I hope that you will read all the stories
in the chain. And so, with no more further ado . . . .)_  
  
***  
  
_Once upon a time . . . ._  
  
Their mother occupied the doorway as Hansel and Gretel lay sleeping.
Throughout all their eighteen years, the children had never called their
matriarch anything other than 'Mother.' Not 'Mom' or 'Mommy,' always 'Mother.'
Even their father referred to his wife by the matronly title. Any deviation
resulted in a _stern look_. And for Hansel and Gretel, a _stern look_ meant
discipline. Discipline . . . which was conducted in the basement, with
switches and paddles and padded cuffs.  
  
So the children were always well behaved, at least around Mother. Around town,
however, they were the usual rambunctious, mischievous teenagers, yet their
fear of discipline from their mother meant they were inordinately crafty;
never had anyone guessed that the delinquents who periodically stole from Abel
Mencke's orchard, who had defaced the statue of Revolutionary War hero and
first mayor Earl Kelly Stipes, who had once broken into Mrs. Heath's candy
store in the middle of the night, were the twins Hansel &amp; Gretel, widely
viewed as 'angelic' by the townsfolk of Brimstone.  
  
_It's time t' let 'em go,_ Mother thought crossly as she watched her children
in their beds. _Eighteen years is a long enough time t' wait for freedom. Once
I'm rid o' them, Lewis'll be even more docile. And without the children to pay
for, that's money I can finally spend t' replace that ridiculous jalopy I
drive and get a _real_ car . . . like a Cadillac._  
  
_But, how t' do it? None too likely they'd leave on their own. I know them.
No, I'd have t' take 'em someways far away . . . far, far away . . . ._  
  
***  
  
"Psst! Hansel!"  
  
Hansel murmured in his bed, frowning at the sound of his twin's voice. He
buried his face in the pillow -- _Christ, when was the last time it was
washed?_ \-- and pretended to still be asleep. But his sister knew him too
well, and he, she. As with many twins, they enjoyed (and sometimes reviled) a
nearly psychic link between them.  
  
"Damn it, Han!" she hissed, keeping her voice low. She pinched her brother's
ear roughly, eliciting the desired effect. But just as his eyes flashed open
and he began to cry out in pain, Gretel slapped her hand over his mouth, so
all that escaped was a muffled sound of irritation.  
  
Gretel pressed a single finger to her lips. "Shh!"  
  
Hansel frowned, staring at his twin. Aside from the fact that they were of
different sexes, Hansel and Gretel were truly identical. Their faces almost
perfectly mirrored one another, save that Hansel's was a bit broader, and
Gretel's brow was thinner. But both had the same sharp, narrow nose, short
black hair, and catlike violet-hued eyes. Even their builds were similar,
being athletic and lean, although Hansel stood a couple of inches taller than
his slightly-older sister, and possessed broader shoulders.  
  
"What th' devil's gotten in ya?" Hansel whispered after his sister took her
hand away.  
  
Still with a finger to her lips, Gretel beckoned with her hand and rose from
the floor, where she had been kneeling beside her brother's bed. She stepped
to the door of the room they shared -- and had always shared since the first
day they drew breath -- and peered out.  
  
Hansel flipped back the old worn blanket and stained, threadbare sheets,
letting his feet rest quietly on the floor. Silently, following his sister's
lead, he approached behind her. "Greta?" he asked, his voice so soft, audible
only to her ear.  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder, needing not to say a word to indicate
that he should follow. The short tee covering her torso offered no modesty to
her lower body. The worn and stretched panties that hugged her slender hips
tightly (there was a hole in the right cheek that revealed much too much bare
flesh) might as well have been airbrushed paint. Similarly, the simple briefs
Hansel wore looked almost like a man's bikini upon him.  
  
Gretel lead the way along the hall to the top of the stairs, where she
crouched behind the railing. Wordlessly, Hansel followed suit, almost
intimately framing his sister's body with his own. But such closeness was
nothing new to the siblings; even as legal adults, they still slept in the
same bed at times.  
  
Two pairs of unnaturally violet eyes watched through the scratched and scuffed
wooden posts of the stair rail as Mother spoke with their father in the living
room below. Their words were just barely discernible to the twins' ears.  
  
". . . Y'know I'm right," Mother was saying, facing her husband upon the moth-
eaten couch. "They's of age, now. And they need a taste o' th' world outside
this little town. It'll be good for 'em."  
  
Reluctantly, the twins' father, Lewis, nodded. "I . . . s'pose so," he said
cagily. "I'm just not sure I like th' idea of drivin' 'em away from town, and
just . . . _leavin'_ 'em there—"  
  
"Lewis!" Mother snapped. "As always, it ain't for you t' like. This'll be good
for them. I know it. I _am_ their mother, after all."  
  
Timidly, Lewis nodded, casting his eyes down.  
  
Mother straightened, taking on her usual air of authority and arrogance. "It's
settled, then," she said with a smug smile. "Tomorrow, I'll take 'em out for a
drive. And when I return -- _alone_ \-- p'haps I'd be in the mood t' let ya
have me for a spell."  
  
Lewis's head sprang up, wearing a hopeful expression. "Really?"  
  
Patronizingly, Mother patted her husband's head as she stood. "Maybe," she
said, then walked away, into the kitchen.  
  
The eyes of the siblings watched their mother as she disappeared, then focused
on one another's. Nervousness swept like a current between them, coupled with
fear. Without a word, they crept back to their little room.  
  
***  
  
Minutes later, the twins sat upon Hansel's bed, legs folded beneath their
bodies as they faced one another. Their hands were intertwined, seeking
strength and comfort that seemed now to be sorely lacking.  
  
"What're we gonna do?" Gretel asked, her eyes watery as she tried to hold back
tears.  
  
Hansel had always been the more level-headed one. "She'd have t' take us far
enough aways, t' some place we don't recognize," he said. "We gonna need t'
leave a trail someways."  
  
Gretel frowned with a feeling of hopelessness. "How's we gonna do that? Oh,
God, Han, she's gonna take us somewhere and leave us—"  
  
Hansel reached out and touched his sister's face, trying to hold back his own
strong anxiety. "We'll find our way home, Greta," he said with as much
certainty as he could muster.  
  
A line of tears spilled from Gretel's eyes, dripping down her cheek. "How?"
she asked. "And even if we make it back, what then?"  
  
Hansel shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Least ways, we'd be home. But
first, we gotta figure out the 'how.'"  
  
***  
  
The following morning, before Mother awoke, Hansel crept outside to the family
car with a pail of paint taken from the garage. The paint was of a bright
green color, used years before in the construction of a go-kart that had since
been demolished. Hansel was glad to have kept it around; it now finally had a
use.  
  
The family car was a behemoth of a station wagon that was nearly twice
Hansel's age. Colored a motley brown with wooden side paneling, the automotive
monstrosity had as many dents and scratches as a smash-up derby car, yet still
it remained faithful. Even though the engine had been overhauled numerous
times, rims and brakes and axles had been routinely replaced, every turn of
the key was rewarded with the throaty rumble of its venerable eight-cylinder
engine.  
  
Before getting to his task, however, Hansel stopped a moment, looking around
at the small town which constituted the entirety of his known world. There
were perhaps eight or nine dozen families in Brimstone, which had once been a
prosperous town. But the mines had dried up decades before, shortly after the
Great Depression, and the town had suffered since. Many buildings stood
dilapidated and desolate, and the streets were in sorry states of disrepair.  
  
Like nearly every house in Brimstone, the one which Hansel and Gretel called
home was a piecemeal construction of simple materials that needed constant
repair. The grass was brown -- where it existed -- and the trees were skeletal
and dying. It was the same all throughout town.  
  
_Would it really be that bad t' leave here?_ Hansel thought. He had heard
tales of the Big City, with its clean streets and modern homes. Of men and
women who could afford to shower every day and wore clean clothes that had not
been handed down. Of wonders like computers, and cellular phones. The world
outside Brimstone, the world that began beyond the foothills, was a very
different one, Hansel knew. A better one.  
  
_Maybe Mother really is doing us a favor,_ he thought. _Just 'cause
Brimstone's the only home we ever known don't mean it's the only home we'd
ever have. Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's how it's s'posed t' be._  
  
Hansel's brow furrowed in thought. _But what about father? He'd be left t'
damnation with Mother. Maybe he's a spineless simp, but he's still father._  
  
With a resigned sigh, Hansel returned to his task, crawling beneath the
station wagon. The wire he had brought along served to secure the paint
canister to the underside of the station wagon, just a few inches in from the
twisted rear bumper. Once it was secure, Hansel stabbed the can once with a
screwdriver, resulting in a small hole from which slowly leaked the viscous,
brightly-colored mixture. It was thick enough that it would take hours to
drain away, Hansel knew.  
  
He hoped those hours were enough.  
  
***  
  
"Children! Children!"  
  
Mother's shrill voice served to summon her son and daughter to the kitchen
where she stood. She was clad in her best Sunday dress, fresh off the line. A
rickety old picnic basket sat upon the table. The teens' father was nowhere
around. Dutifully, apparently clueless to their mother's plan, Hansel and
Gretel stopped fast and stood straight, as they always had after being called.  
  
Mother effected a plastic smile upon her aging features. "We're goin' for a
drive, little ones," she said in her best motherly voice. "I figure it was
time we all got t' treatin' each other as adults."  
  
Together, the twins nodded in agreement. "Of course, Mother," Gretel said. She
and her brother knew that the only way their plan could succeed was if they
allowed Mother's to.  
  
Mother beamed. "Hansel, take the basket," she said, then winked. "This'll be
such a wonderful day, one none of us'll ever forget."  
  
***  
  
Miles later, once Brimstone was left behind and the dirty roads became less
and less recognizable to the twins, Hansel leaned forward from the back seat
and addressed his mother. "We goin' someplace new, Mother?" he asked.  
  
Her eyes flashed to the cracked rearview mirror as the car rambled along a
lonely country road. "I reckon it's 'bout time you two got to see a little of
th' world outside Brimstone," she said.  
  
"Oh, okay," Hansel said, feigning innocence. He sat back, glancing briefly to
his sister. They did not have to speak to share their thoughts. The reality of
their impending abandonment weighed heavily enough upon them, without having
to compromise it with useless anger toward their mother.  
  
Still, while Hansel appeared unperturbed, Gretel shivered involuntarily,
rubbing her bare arms as if she was cold. She stared out the window at the
twisted, gnarled old trees that framed either side of the dirt road, hoping
that Hansel's plan would work.  
  
***  
  
As mountains gave way to foothills, and foothills to endless plain, Hansel's
heart began to sink. He did not know how long the dripping paint can would
leave a trail to follow back, and the further Mother drove, the more and more
anxious he became. He tried not to allow it to show, but his tensing shoulders
and darting, furtive looks could not be helped.  
  
Watching her children in the mirror, Mother suppressed a wicked smile. _Don't
fret, little ones. At the least, ya'll have some food t' keep ya goin' for a
while._  
  
Finally, the station wagon approached a small collection of buildings. The
most obvious of them was a small general store, with simple signs advertising
everything from bags of ice to cold beer, tools to tire change services. There
was a garage attached, as well as a pair of aging fuel pumps.  
  
Mother pulled the station wagon up before one of the pumps and ordered her
children out of the car. "It's been a long ride," she said snappishly. "Best
get yourselves cleaned up a bit."  
  
Hansel and Gretel agreed wordlessly, stepping onto firm ground for the first
time in hours. They had never spent so much time in a car before; they were
both surprised by how stiff and uncomfortable they felt after having done
nothing but sit. They twisted, turned, eliciting audible snaps and cracks from
their backs and necks.  
  
"Is there a bathroom, Mother?" Hansel asked.  
  
She answered without looking up from the gas pump nozzle she was inserting
into the car. "Inside. Ask th' man behind th' counter for th' key."  
  
Hansel gave his twin a knowing look. _Mother's been here before,_ he thought.
Gretel nodded in silent assent, her nervousness even more telling now. It was
heightened as she noticed two middle-aged men sitting upon a long bench beside
the front door of "Avery's Market." They wore greasy, dirty old caps upon
their heads bearing faded farming machine legends, and clothing that, like
those of the twins, were well-worn and faded.  
  
Reflexively, she gripped her brother's hand in a fierce grip. "Don't let go,
Han," she pleaded under her breath. She felt the eyes of the two men upon her,
and was suddenly self-conscious in her tight-fitting old shorts and equally
snug tee. Though her breasts were rather small, her top had long since molded
itself around their shape through years of wear. Even the details of her
nipples were clDaley revealed.  
  
"C'mon," urged Hansel, pulling his sister to the door. She walked beside him,
mustering her confidence as they passed the two men.  
  
"Afternoon, young lady," the closest of the two men sneered, revealing stained
and crooked teeth. "Sure is turnin' out t' be a lovely day."  
  
"Ain't it," drawled the other man, openly ogling Gretel's long, tanned legs.  
  
"Afternoon, sirs," Hansel spoke as Gretel remained silent, warily regarding
the two men. That simple salutation was all Hansel said before opening the
door and bringing his sister inside with him. The two men craned their necks
with leering smiles, watching after Gretel's derriere.  
  
The store was fairly small, and just about every inch of space, it seemed, had
been put to use. There was scarcely enough room between aisles packed with
various foodstuffs and merchandise to navigate. Neither of the twins had ever
seen such a variety in their lives, nor so much.  
  
"This place's got everything!" exclaimed Gretel, eyes wide with amazement. She
approached a nearby rack stocked almost to overflowing with brightly-colored
packages. "What's a . . . 'Free-toe?'"  
  
"Like potato chips, girlie," came an aged voice from the short counter to
their left. "'Cept they're made from corn. Buy two, get one free." The old man
winked, and even his eyes displayed a lecherous glow as he beheld the girl in
his store.  
  
Gretel frowned. "Bizarre," she commented.  
  
Hansel shook his head in bewilderment. "Ain't never heard o' such a thing," he
remarked, then remembered why they had come into the store. He addressed the
old man behind the counter. "Sir, have you got th' key t' th' restroom?"  
  
The old man pursed his lips, then reached under the counter and retrieved a
cracked and battered wooden rod, about a foot long, with a key hanging off a
loop at one end. "It's in th' back," he said, hooking his thumb toward the
rear of the store. "And only one at a time."  
  
Wordlessly, Hansel took the key and dragged Gretel toward the back, seeing a
short hallway framed by various car care products on a rack and a cooler
filled with different types of beer. There was a simple white door, with a
sign showing the universal male/female characters. "I'll be right back,"
Hansel said, then unlocked the door and left his sister in the hallway.  
  
The restroom was small and dingy, but relatively clean. He had no need to use
the toilet, so Hansel simply washed his hands and face, pulled off his shirt
to dab away the sweat from his forearms. He was finished within a minute, and
hurriedly stepped out to let Gretel in.  
  
She was occupied for several minutes, and Hansel could tell she was relieving
herself before cleaning off the unanticipated grime of a three-hour drive. A
sheepish look adorned her face as she emerged. "Sorry. I hadda pee."  
  
Hansel could not help but chuckle. "Come on," he said, directing his sister
back through the store. A sense of dread rose quickly in his mind as his eyes
darted through the windows, spying empty gas pumps outside. No behemoth
station wagon in sight.  
  
"Oh, no," he muttered, then slapped the bathroom key on the counter before
running out, hurling open the door. "No! No! NO!"  
  
Gretel followed, already feeling the tight lump in her chest, like a wrench
twisting her heart. Her brother was jumping up and down, looking in all
directions for their mother, his face furtive and desperate. Even though he
had known that abandonment was coming, the reality was abruptly depressing.  
  
"She left us!" he cried, staring fearfully at Gretel, an expression of
hopelessness worn upon his face. "She really left us!"  
  
Gretel tried valiantly to suppress her own fear. "W-we knew she was gonna . .
. ." _Please, Han, don't go howlin' at th' moon now._  
  
Hansel stopped his frantic jumping and made the supreme effort to calm
himself. "You're right, Greta," he said, and took a deep breath. His arms
wrapped around his sister as she came to him, shuddering with her own release
of emotion. Comforting her gave him strength, and strength gave him clarity.  
  
_I can't go fallin' apart, _he thought_. Like Greta said, we knew this was
gonna happen. So now it's happened, and now we gotta figure out how t' get
back home. I sure hope that paint trail is there . . . ._  
  
His eyes fell upon the picnic basket that sat upon the bench, in between the
two men. They smiled lecherously upon the twins, moreso upon Gretel. Their
body language and looks told Hansel they understood that they held sway over
something the twins needed.  
  
"That's ours," he said once Gretel had regained her composure. Gripping hands
once again, they faced the two men.  
  
The two men exchanged a sneering look before the one who spoke previously
turned back. "What, this thing?" he asked, patting the basket. "I don't see no
one's name on it. That lady you rode in with just set it down here and took
off. I reckon it was a gift for a couple'a lonely old men."  
  
The other man nodded. "Mighty nice of her," he muttered.  
  
"That was our mother!" screeched Gretel impulsively. "And that basket's for
us!"  
  
Hansel squeezed his sister's hand, silently urging caution.  
  
The crooked-toothed man chuckled. "If she was y'all's momma, why'd she just
take off like that?"  
  
Hansel ground his teeth. "'Cause we're poor," he said. "And she don't want us
'round no more."  
  
The man laughed loudly. "Now, see, Dale, that's th' way t' do it. Kids get old
'nuff, you just take them out somewheres n' drop 'em off. Yep, that's th'
way."  

Dale nodded, beady dark eyes focused on the narrow gap between Gretel's taut
young thighs. "Ain't it, Harlon."  
  
Hansel felt backed into a corner. Whatever might happen, he understood that
his and his sister's chances of survival would be greatly enhanced by the
contents of the picnic basket. They needed it, plain and simple. Bravely, he
took a step toward the two men, releasing his hold on Gretel's hand. "I'm
takin' that basket, sir. It belongs to me and my sister."  
  
The man named Harlon arched an eyebrow in interest. "Just how you plan on
takin' it, boy? Only one'a you, and there's two of us."  
  
Hansel swallowed nervously, yet stood his ground. "That don't matter," he
said. "I'll do whatever it takes."  
  
Harlon laughed again. "I just bet you would, youngster," he said, then his
eyes drifted to Gretel. "But would _she_?"  
  
Hansel stiffened, understanding that, whatever the two men wanted from Gretel,
it could not be good. "It ain't 'bout her, it's 'bout you and me."  
  
"Oh, I _do_ think it's 'bout her," Harlon said, both his face and tone
menacing. "You two want this here basket, don't'cha? Me and Dale, here, want
somethin' too."  
  
Hansel shook his head, growing angry. His jaw set, and fists clenched.
"Y'ain't gettin' nothin' from my sister," he growled.  
  
"Ha! The puppy's barin' it's fangs! Ain't that fierce, Dale?"  
  
Dale chuckled, licking his lips, eyes never leaving Gretel's lithe body.
"Ain't it."  
  
Harlon stood, taking up the basket in a meaty hand. He stood an inch or two
shorter than Hansel, but made up for his lack of height with a stocky frame
and earth-toned muscles. "Me and Dale are gonna head 'round back, take a look-
see in this here basket," he declared. "So unless that little lady wants to
show us somethin' more, eh . . . _tasty_, ya can say good-bye t' it now."  
  
Hansel felt the impulse to rush the man and hopefully take the basket from
him. He was certain he and Gretel could run faster than either man, and make
it down the road before they could give chase. But Gretel's hand slapping
around his arm made him pause. He looked to his sister with a frown.  
  
_I know what they want, _she thought, conveying her ideas to her brother_. Ya
know I ain't cherry no more, so lemme get 'em all riled up, then we can grab
th' basket and get outta here._  
  
Hansel tensed, but he could not think of a better plan. He gave a short,
reluctant, nod. _All right._  
  
They followed the two men around the back of the store, to a little space
between Avery's Market and some nameless shack that Hansel assumed was Mr.
Avery's abode. There, beneath the bright sun, Harlon and Dale set the basket
upon one of several milk crates that lay about, between the back door of the
grocery store and a large, ancient, dented steel dumpster. The aroma of
rotting garbage was powerful in the air.  
  
"So, you gonna show us somethin', girly?" sniggered Harlon.  
  
Gretel stood impassive for a moment beside her brother, then stepped forward,
curling her fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. "I'm only showin'," she
said, then lifted her shirt, exposing the firm hemispheres of flesh that
adorned her chest. Pale in comparison to her tanned arms and legs, Gretel's
breasts were almost creamy white, sporting thick pink nipples atop areolas the
size of dollar coins.  
  
Harlon's gaze clouded with lust while beside him, Dale licked his thick,
chapped lips. "Now, that's a tasty sight, all right," Harlon said. "Ain't seen
tits like that since your cousin came t' visit, Dale."  
  
"Yep, them's nice," Dale agreed. "But I can see hills near every day. Ain't
too often I get a peek at a nice little valley."  
  
Gretel's cheeks paled. She glanced to Hansel, who struggled to contain his
anger. That single look was all it took for them to agree. _But ya best be
ready, Han._  
  
Hansel nodded imperceptibly_. I am._  
  
Gretel returned her attention to the two lecherous men. "If I show ya all'a
me, then we get th' basket?" she asked.  
  
Harlon nodded, his eyes narrowed and sly. "Of course, girlie," he said in a
patronizing tone. "But, uh, come on closer. We wanna good, _close_ look."  
  
Gretel swallowed nervously, aware of her brother behind her, even though she
could not see him. The knowledge of his presence gave her the strength to
commit to the moment. Her eyes falling to the ground, Gretel stepped forward
until she stood just a foot before the two men, then unceremoniously unsnapped
her shorts and wiggled them off her hips. Along with a pair of faded, lime-
green panties, they fell to her ankles.  
  
"Holy Mary, Mother o' Christ," muttered Harlon, groping himself. "Just look at
that beaver. That there's womanly perfection."  
  
Dale stared, gape-mouthed and tongue hanging out like that of a basset hound
on a hot summer day. "Ain't it."  
  
Harlon's breathing was ragged as he beheld the sight of Gretel's exposed
genitals, framed by soft, downy brown hair. Though Gretel, of course, had
never trimmed her pubic hair, she was not bushy. The swell of her vulva were
clearly visible, as well as her slender pink labia and the short barrel of her
clitoral hood.  
  
"Turn 'round there, girlie," Harlon urged, finding his voice again. "Turn
'round an' touch your toes."  
  
Hesitantly, Gretel did so, facing her brother. Hansel stared with an odd
mixture of morbid fascination, detached arousal, and seething anger as his
sister stood all but fully nude before him. He could accept that he found her
beautiful, and so brazenly exposed as she was at that moment, strangely sexy.
But as she bent over, keeping her legs straight, exposing the entirety of her
backside in such a lewd manner to the two men, those fleeting emotions
vanished.  
  
A cool calmness, a sense of deliberation, took hold of him. Captivated as they
were by the exposition of Gretel's sacred treasures, Harlon and Dale did not
notice as Hansel stepped silently around behind them. But Gretel noticed,
lifting her head just a little, and smiled. To further entrance her admirers,
she reached back with her hands and pulled her cheeks apart, fully exposing
the objects of her admirers' affection.  
  
"Look at that pink, Dale," Harlon commented in awe. His eyes were fixated on
the lightly fur-lined lips of Gretel's sex, the puckered anus above. "Even her
brownie's pink! Ain't nothin' fresher'n that. Man, it's gonna be good to get
my willy up in that sweet li'l slice o' pie . . ." he trailed off, pushing up
from his crouch, fumbling with his old jeans.  
  
"Ain't—" began Dale.  
  
_Bonk!_  
  
Just as he fished out his penis, hard at the prospect of violating the
teenager before him, Harlon frowned in confusion as Dale collapsed with a
groan beside him. Harlon turned, looking upon Hansel, who stood with a length
of wood held in his hands.  
  
"Now, that just ain't right!" complained Harlon.  
  
Hansel grinned, bringing back the board in preparation. "Ain't it?" he asked
rhetorically, then swung.  
  
***  
  
The basket held sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, fruit, and a jug of
water. Enough, at least, for a day, but not much more. Still, it was
something, and it gave the twins hope. They each partook of a sandwich and a
single selection from the fruit; an apple for Hansel, a pear for Gretel.  
  
"Ain't never seen ya like that," Hansel said at last as they walked the lonely
country road, following the occasional drop of glowing green paint that lay
upon the road. For that, at least, Hansel was glad; part of his plan seemed to
be working out.  
  
Gretel shrugged. "Got us outta there, didn't it?" she asked simply, chewing on
a bite of her pear. "'Sides, ain't like ya never seen me nekkid before."  
  
"But that's always been different," Hansel said, feeling a strange tickling
sensation in the pit of his stomach. The image of his twin sister's brazen
nudity was a powerful one, he had to admit. He was not sure what to make of
it, or how he felt about it. "Ain't the same, now."  
  
She gave a furtive glance to her brother. "Guess it ain't," she agreed. "But
there ain't no goin' back. It's done, an' it worked, so . . . let's just get
home."  
  
Hansel nodded, pushing away the faint traces of incestuous thought that had
begun growing in his mind. He looked all around, seeing nothing but desolate
prairie, mountains in the distance. A powerful sense of despair rolled through
him; the mountains -- wherein lay Brimstone, he knew, though he knew not where
-- were so far away. More than it would take just a few days of walking to
reach.  
  
"We're gonna need t' hitch a ride somehow," he said at last.  
  
"How?" asked Gretel, casting her gaze about. Her voice was strongly tinted
with an hysteric edge of depression. "We ain't seen no car for over an hour
now!"  
  
"Someone's gotta come by," Hansel said. Intuition struck him. "Soon as we see
a car or truck or whatever, ya stick out your thumb. Show some leg."  
  
Gretel tittered. "'Show some leg?'" she asked.  
  
Hansel grinned. "Hey, if I was drivin' 'long some old dusty road and saw a
cute thing flashin' her leg, I'd sure as hell stop."  
  
Gretel smiled, a funny look on her face. "Ya think I'm cute?"  
  
Hansel rolled his eyes. "Cute as a pug dog gnawing on a bone," he said dryly,
although his statement could not hide from his twin that still-lingering
feeling of arousal he had felt at seeing her naked.  
  
Thankfully, Gretel said nothing. But she did smile, in an impish, mischievous
way.  
  
***  
  
It was late in the afternoon, and the twins were miles along the country road,
yet still days from home. The mountains seemed no closer now then they had
been at the beginning of their trek, and that was cause for no small amount of
despair. Still, Hansel and Gretel soldiered on, for wont of any other driving
force.  
  
Then, finally . . . .  
  
The rumble reached Hansel's ears first. He hesitated in his trudging walk;
with Gretel a few paces ahead. The basket was heavy, scraping the side of his
leg, rubbing the skin raw where it was exposed by his shorts. He had refused
to let Gretel carry the basket, citing his strength relative to hers. She had
rolled her eyes, but offered no rebuttal.  
  
The rumble made Hansel look back, and when he saw the trail of dust cast high
in the wake of an oncoming vehicle, he literally dropped the basket to the
ground in elation. "A car!" he exclaimed.  
  
Gretel spun about, hope lighting up her features. She grinned and began
jumping up and down. "A car!" she echoed excitedly.  
  
"C'mon! Quick!" urged Hansel, snatching up the basket and stepping off the
side of the road. "Get out there!"  
  
Gretel did not hesitate. She stood straight, standing along the edge of the
road with her arm thrust out, thumb thrust up. She canted one of her legs out,
pasted a 'come-hither' smile on her face.  
  
The dust trail loomed closer, revealing a beat-up old sedan before it. Hansel
watched anxiously as the car neared, slowing slightly. As soon as the car
passed Gretel in her provocative pose, the brake lights flashed and tires
skidded along the dirt and gravel. The venerable car -- some old Ford or
Chevy, Hansel figured -- stopped in the middle of the road.  
  
Together, Hansel and Gretel ran up to the car. Gretel reached the driver-side
open window and leaned upon the door. "Please, mister, we need a ride," she
deplored.  
  
The man behind the wheel panned his gaze over Gretel's body. Sweat had molded
her shirt even moreso to her body, while casting off a sweet, youthful aroma.
The man was somewhat pudgy, of average looks. "Well, uh, where ya goin'?" he
asked, warily glancing to Hansel behind her.  
  
"Brimstone," Gretel responded.  
  
The driver frowned. "Ain't heard o' that town," he said. "How far is it?"  
  
"It's up in th' mountains," Hansel said. He caught a glimpse of a slightly-
glowing green drop of paint on the road just ahead of the sedan. "I can tell
ya how t' get there."  
  
The driver rolled his eyes. "I ain't goin' anywhere near th' mountains," he
said. "I gotta get t' Bixby, and that's down south, along th' highway."  
  
Gretel begged with her eyes. "Please, mister."  
  
The pudgy man took a breath, ogling Gretel once more. "I don't know," he said.
"That's really outta my way."  
  
Gretel thought a moment, chewing her lip. She looked back to her brother
briefly, exchanging thoughts. With a reluctant nod, Hansel agreed. Gretel
turned back.  
  
"What if, uh . . . I do somethin' for ya?" she suggested.  
  
The driver arched his eyebrows in interest and instant arousal. "What'cha got
in mind?"  
  
Gretel shrugged, glancing around casually. "How 'bout I suck your dick?"  
  
The pudgy man smiled slowly. "Get in th' car," he said.  
  
***  
  
Mr. James Cray, the driver of the old sedan, was a surprisingly nervous and
shy man, given the agreement he and Gretel had struck. She got in through the
front passenger door, taking half of the long bench seat, while Hansel crawled
in the back, setting the basket beside him. James -- 'Jimmy' -- asked some
typical questions, and received the typical answers from Gretel. As far as the
driver was concerned, it was just he and Gretel.  
  
"So, um . . . ya really gonna . . . um, you know . . . ." he said awkwardly,
smiling nervously upon Gretel.  
  
She smiled back, sweetly. "Ya really gonna take us t' Brimstone?" she asked.  
  
Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah."  
  
Gretel shot her brother a quick look, a smile tugging at the corners of her
mouth, then slid closer to their ad hoc chauffeur. She settled a hand on his
thigh and brushed his ear with her lips. "Then I'm really gonna suck ya," she
whispered.  
  
Jimmy shuddered. "Oh-h-h . . . wow . . . ."  
  
Gretel giggled. Jimmy's skittishness was endearing; for whatever reasons, it
practically encouraged her to continue. Gretel felt that she was in charge,
that nothing would happen without her consent, unlike the way she had felt
with Harlon and Dale behind the grocery store. Perhaps because of that
feeling, Gretel was emboldened, encouraged.  
  
"Ain't ya ever had your dick sucked, Jimmy?" she whispered sultrily.  
  
Jimmy swallowed thickly, beads of sweat appearing on his brow. "Um . . . not
like this," he said, then let out a nervous laugh. "Actually, uh . . . not
really much at all."  
  
"Well," began Gretel as she worked at his jeans, a blushing smile crossing her
face. "Then ya best keep your eyes on th' road, then." And with that, she
leaned over, settling her head in the man's lap.  
  
Hansel tried not to think about what his sister was doing, but that was a
useless venture. Between the soft moans and wet sucking, pulling sounds Gretel
made, and the gasps and groans of her lucky recipient, Hansel could hardly
think of anything else.  
  
Against his better judgment, Hansel watched between the seats as his twin
bobbed up and down, the muscles of her narrow back outlined beneath her tight
shirt. Her right shoulder moved, evidence of her manipulation of the cock that
plunged into her mouth again and again. Now and then, Hansel heard his sister
sigh, and she would pause, moving her head only slightly. Hansel could just
imagine his sister licking up and down their benefactors' stiff shaft. That
image brought out feelings of both arousal and jealousy.  
  
Still, Hansel had enough sense to keep an eye on the road, spying the glowing
drops of green paint upon the dirt and gravel. It was only this fact -- the
proof that they were heading in the right direction -- that allowed him to
stomach the idea of watching his sister giving head.  
  
"Oh, God, oh God," moaned Jimmy, abruptly pulling off the road, the tires of
his car digging into dead grass. He cut the engine and leaned back, placing
both of his hands on Gretel's bouncing head. "Do it, baby! Yeah! Yeah! I'm
cummin'! Don't stop, baby!"  
  
Gretel stopped bobbing, her back hunched slightly, moaning as Jimmy convulsed.
Hansel gritted his teeth, hateful of the man who was now ejaculating between
his sister's lips, even as he wished he was in Jimmy's place. It seemed to him
that the man's orgasm lasted for minutes on end, and what truly vexed him the
most was Gretel's eager acceptance in keeping her mouth upon him throughout
his spasms.  
  
With a loud, wet slurping sound, Gretel eased up, sitting upright in her seat.
Her lips were slightly parted, slick and wet, a bead of pearly fluid
shimmering upon them. She glanced back to her brother, undoubtedly feeling the
confluence of his emotions, or at the least, guessing them. With a demure,
almost shamed look, she sucked her bottom lip, wiped the corners of her mouth
with her fingers.  
  
"Oh . . . damn, sweetheart," Jimmy sighed, then laughed.  
  
Gretel licked her lips slowly, tasting the residue of his orgasm. Her throat
felt thick and dry, lined with the semen she had swallowed. "Ya gonna take us
home now, right?"  
  
Jimmy chuckled. "Sure thing, honey," he agreed, straightening his pants and
turning the key. For a brief moment, he glanced to Hansel's stony face in the
rear-view mirror, and his smile faded, replaced by intimidation.  
  
For the rest of the drive, he said nothing more.  
  
***  
  
It was a little after nightfall when the glowing green paint trail lead Mr.
James Cray's sedan to the ramshackle house which Hansel and Gretel called
home. Hansel said nothing as he quickly stepped from the car, waiting upon the
walkway for his sister. Gretel lingered a moment.  
  
"Your brother don't like me much," Jimmy commented.  
  
Gretel sighed. "No, I don't reckon he does," she said, then pushed a smile to
her lips. She planted a quick, somewhat sticky kiss on the man's cheek.
"Thanks for bringin' us home."  
  
Jimmy smiled back. "Maybe, um . . . ." he began hopefully.  
  
Gretel frowned. "I don't think so," she said curtly, then shoved open the door
and stepped out.  
  
Hansel stood before her, the picnic basket hanging from his hand, looking down
at the ground. Gretel approached, hands before her.  
  
"We got home," she said. "That's what's important."  
  
He nodded stiffly. "Yeah."  
  
Gretel's brow furrowed. "Are ya angry at me?" she asked. "Or jealous?"  
  
Hansel's head snapped up, eyes glaring at his twin for a moment before quickly
softening. "Don't really matter, do it?" he asked rhetorically. "'Sides, like
ya said, we're home now."  
  
Gretel nodded back, and followed her brother into the house.  
  
***  
  
Mother seethed as she watched her children emerge from the stranger's car
outside the windows of the family home. She had noticed the occasional drops
of green paint upon the road during the drive back, and sight of the matching
puddle in the driveway had made her suspicious. Now that the twins were back,
she realized her suspicion had been confirmed: Hansel and Gretel had made sure
to leave a trail back home.  
  
_Damn those brats! I give 'em eighteen years o' my life, and they dare t'
think they deserve more?_ She took a moment to quell her raging emotions,
watching as her son and daughter approached up the walk. _Fine, then. They can
have their homecoming. But they ain't gonna stick around for long . . . ._  
  
***  
  
"Children! So nice to see you home!"  
  
Hansel and Gretel stopped in the doorway of the home, staring with surprise
upon their smiling mother. As if the events of the entire day had not
occurred, Mother approached and hugged them both, kissing their cheeks. Behind
her, keeping a distance, was their father, meek as always, yet with a relieved
look on his aging face.  
  
"I know what you're thinkin'," Mother said as she stepped back, a somber
expression on her face. "But ya'll two have grown up. Time t' learn about th'
real world."  
  
"By leavin' us stranded with'a bunch'a scary old men?" cried Gretel, her face
reddening. "What was that s'posed t' teach us?" She shook off her brother's
hand as he settled it on her arm.  
  
Mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't ya ever question me, girl," she menaced. "To
your room. Both o' ya!"  
  
Gretel began to rebuke her mother, but Hansel caught her arm again and gave
her a warning look. _It ain't worth it, ya know that._  
  
Gretel took a calming breath and nodded reluctantly. With neither a word nor
look to Mother, she marched around the woman, heading up the stairs. Hansel
lingered, holding up the picnic basket, meeting his mother's gaze.  

"Thanks for lunch," he said dryly, then let go of the handle, letting the
basket crash to the ground. Mother let out a startled yelp, stepping back. Her
hand flashed up, ready to slap her son's face, but his unflinching stance made
her pause. Hansel had never stood up to her before.  
  
With a last look, he stepped past his mother, giving a quick glance to his
father. The docile patriarch said nothing, guilt and embarrassment telling
within his features. Hansel suddenly loathed the man who had given him life.
_How can he just stand by and watch it all happen?_  
  
There was no answer to his silent question, nor did he think he would have
accepted one. Both weary and angry, Hansel ascended the stairs to join his
distraught sister.  
  
***  
  
Gretel had her arms wrapped around her knees, hugging her legs to her chest
while she sat on the bed. The single lamp colored the room in a soft, dusky
amber, which helped to make the chamber seem less dirty than it was.  
  
"She's gonna try t' get rid o' us again, ain't she?" she asked in a small
voice as Hansel closed the door.  
  
"I reckon," he mused, then sighed, leaning against the door. "But, y'know, I
been thinkin'."  
  
Gretel lifted her head. "'Bout?"  
  
Hansel's face contorted from the thoughts behind it. "Do we really wanna stay
here after all? I mean . . . Mother's always gonna be trying t' get rid o'
us."  
  
Distressed filled Gretel's face. "And where we gonna go? What we gonna do? And
don't ya be expectin' me t' hand out suck jobs left n' right!"  
  
Hansel grimaced. "I weren't thinkin' nothin' like that," he said, easing onto
the bed before his sister. His shoulders slumped. "I ain't really sure what
I'm thinkin.'"  
  
Gretel uncurled and slipped her arm around her brother's shoulder, resting her
cheek against his arm. The intimate contact was comforting to them both.
"Well, I'm thinkin' we definitely gotta stay t'gether."  
  
Hansel managed a smile and gripped her hand. "Me, too."  
  
***  
  
The aroma of ham steak and bacon wafted up through the house the following
morning, rousing the twins from sleep. For a few minutes, it was as if the
events of the previous day had never transpired; they rose, washed up, brushed
their teeth, slowly letting the fog of sleep leave their minds. It was only as
they were getting dressed that a sense of anxiety speared through them.  
  
Hansel froze after he had pulled up a pair of worn old jeans with holes in the
knees. He stared at Gretel, topless for the moment as she held a flimsy yellow
blouse. Their eyes locked; they shared the same thought: _what's Mother gonna
do today?_  
  
A sense of resignation in the face of doom overcame them. They knew Mother was
going to try something, and they had to be ready for it. That simple fact was
powerful and obvious.  
  
"We'd best, uh, head down t' breakfast," Hansel finally said. His eyes
lingered on the firm breasts Gretel so casually revealed. They had seen each
other naked numerous times throughout their lives, yet now, even this candid
exposition of nudity drew out a different reaction from Hansel. The previous
day had changed a lot of things, it seemed. He was conscious of the fact that
he know felt a certain level of buzzing arousal around his twin, a sensation
that was new to him. Unlike Gretel, who had enjoyed a brief fling with Cooper
Barnes (before he got arrested for running moonshine), Hansel remained a
virgin.  
  
Gretel nodded, quickly donning her blouse. She could feel the difference
between the way her brother used to regard her, and the way he did now. But
she was not entirely sure how she felt about that change. Part of her had
enjoyed the 'naughty' things she had done the day before, knowing Hansel had
been there to watch.  
  
_Does that I mean I like turnin' my own brother on?_ She wondered. But she
pushed the thought from her head and took Hansel's hand. "C'mon, Han," she
said, the feel of her brother's grip making her strong. "We only got us,
y'know."  
  
"No matter what, we stay t'gether," Hansel affirmed.  
  
They descended the stairs as if joined at the hip, following the wafting
aromas that, despite the unease both twins felt, conjured up grumbles of
hunger from their stomachs. They could hear Mother puttering about in the
kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of pans and plates, flatware and glasses.
The cacophony was almost intimidating.  
  
Hansel and Gretel stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, looking up the tiny
table dressed with the old plastic red and white cover. Four plates had been
set, a pitcher of orange juice set in the middle. The twins' father was
already seated, turned sideways in his chair as he read that morning's edition
of the _Brimstone Revealer_. He glanced up briefly at his children's arrival.
His face could have been carved from one of the winnowed old trees that lay
outside of town.  
  
"I didn't think ya two'd be long, what with what I'm cookin'," Mother said as
she saw her children. "Well, sit yourselves down. Ya need t' have a good
breakfast."  
  
Hansel eyed her suspiciously. "Another long drive today, Mother?"  
  
Her faint smile vanished completely. "Sit."  
  
The twins exchanged cautionary looks, then took their usual places at the
table. Hansel tried to catch his father's eye, but the elder man hunched down,
holding the paper close to his face. His actions were plainly suspicious. He
knew what Mother planned, but of course, he was not about to share his
knowledge.  
  
And again, Hansel thought, _how can he just let this happen? What kind o' hold
does Mother have on him? Is my father really that weak-willed that he'd let
his own children be taken away? Unless . . . unless he never really wanted us
either . . . ._  
  
Hansel leaned back in his chair, feeling nothing but contempt for his father.
He suddenly felt a loss of appetite.  
  
Mother set heavily-laden plates of ham and eggs upon the table, then sat as
well. Silently -- as was the custom; no one spoke when a meal was served --
the four dug into their food. Hansel and Gretel found themselves forcing down
the mouthfuls of food; it tasted good enough, but anxiety and nervousness kept
them from enjoying the meal as much as they should have. Still, they knew that
Mother expected them to finish every bite.  
  
So they did, struggling to do so, but eventually, every forkful was devoured
and the plates held nothing but streaks of grease. Mother cleared away the
plates and glasses, glancing to the clock on the wall.  
  
"You have chores to do, children," she said bluntly, her back turned to the
twins.  
  
Frowning with consternation, Hansel and Gretel stood from the table. Silently,
they left the room, unable to see the wicked smile that adorned their mother's
face, nor the small bottle of sedatives she lightly fingered.  
  
***  
  
"I don't get it," Gretel said as they took their tasks. Gretel's was to do all
the laundry, while Hansel had been assigned the task of trying to fix the
clothes the dryer. The contraption was ancient in his eyes, easily older than
he, and by at least a decade, he was sure. It very rarely worked, resulting in
the family clothes being hung to dry on the line out back. When it did
cooperate, it made such a racket that the entire house seemed filled with the
cacophonous sound. But Mother always insisted that Hansel try to make the
device operable; a clothes dryer was a status symbol in Brimstone.  
  
"I don't either," Hansel grunted as he pushed the dryer away from the wall.
His pockets were laden with various old and somewhat rusty tools; many of
them, he was certain, predated his entry into the world as well. "She's actin'
like nothin' ever happened."  
  
"What ya think she's gonna do?" asked Gretel, stuffing worn and dirty clothes
in the washer. That machine, at the least, did function.  
  
Hansel sighed, removing the screws that held the rear panel of the clothes
dryer in place. "I don't know," he said, sharing a perturbed look with his
twin. "But I reckon she's up t' somethin.'"  
  
Gretel paused, wavering on her feet slightly with another armload of clothes
to shove in the washer. "Yeah . . . I guess . . . ." Her eyes fluttered; the
clothes tumbled from her arms to the floor. Reflexively, she slapped her hand
to the surface of the washer, to keep from toppling over.  
  
"Greta!" exclaimed, Hansel, shooting to his feet. He came around to catch
Gretel just as she slumped, eyes rolling back in her head. She was like dead
weight in Hansel's arms, arms hanging to the floor, legs falling slack. She
muttered something that might have been words, but Gretel apparently lacked
the capacity to speak.  
  
"Greta! Greta!" Hansel cried, lowering himself to his knees, clutching his
twin sister against him. His mind whirled with confusion and fear as to what
caused her to behave this way, even as he felt a sudden inexplicable fog
rolling through his own mind and sapping the strength of his limbs. The world
about him grew cloudy, once-clear shapes becoming hazy.  
  
The last thing he saw -- or thought he saw -- was the vague image of Mother
standing in the doorway, watching. Even through the haze of his vision, it
seemed to Hansel that she was smiling.  
  
***  
  
Hansel had never seen a gorilla before in his life. He had never been taken to
a zoo, had never seen any television program about gorillas. But he had
learned of them, somewhat, in biology classes at the run-down little school
which educated all the children of Brimstone. And it seemed to him, as he
awoke blearily, that one of the great, furry beasts had been sitting on his
head.  
  
Vision returned slowly, after his ears told him that he must be outside
somewhere, judging from the chirping of birds, the rattle of insects high
amongst tree boughs, the gentle rustle of leaves from a stiff breeze. Darts of
sunlight stabbed into his eyes, making him wince and squeeze them shut.
Defensively, he rolled onto his side, seeking the darkness his own shadow
would provide.  
  
Amid grunts and groans, Hansel gathered his strength, slowly feeling energy
begin to return to his limbs. He heaved breath upon cool, dry grass, feeling
the blades between his fingers as he curled them. With some struggle, he
opened his eyes, peering at strangely vivid green spears of foliage just
inches from his face.  
  
"Greta . . . ." he grunted weakly, looking about, eyes narrowed to slits
against the harsh light. He found his sister laying a few feet away, demure in
her sleep. She seemed peaceful, as sublime as Sleeping Beauty awaiting her
prince. Laboriously, Hansel crawled to his twin, shook her shoulder. "Greta."  
  
She murmured, brow furrowing. It struck Hansel how much the way he and Gretel
felt was similar to what they experienced after imbibing too much cheap whisky
on their birthday. He wondered what it was Mother had placed in their
breakfast; the fact that she had done so was not in question in Hansel's mind.  
  
Gretel moaned, beginning to come awake. Quickly, Hansel shushed her, his face
close to hers. "Open your eyes slowly, Greta," he whispered. "Th' sun's really
bright."  
  
His twin muttered something, then clumsily slapped a hand over her eyes. "Wh-
where we at, Han?" she asked, her voice dry and rough. She cleared her throat,
gingerly blinking her eyes beneath her hand.  
  
Han looked around, his eyes finally adjusting. They were surrounded by trees,
which afforded a loose canopy overhead through which the mid day sun
penetrated. They had been set, ostensibly by their parents, within a tiny
glade. There was a path that lead through the trees, but no clue as to where
it would take them.  
  
"I don't know," he said, trying to hide the anxiety he felt. "Nothin' looks
right."  
  
Gretel sat up, squinting her eyes and glancing around as well. "She done it
again," she lamented.  
  
Hansel nodded, anger setting his jaw. "Yeah. She done it again. And this time,
we ain't got no picnic basket."  
  
***  
  
No tears spilled from their eyes once Hansel and Gretel regained their
strength and facilities. A morose acceptance of reality filled them both as
they grasped one another's hand, following the path away from the glade. It
was, as far as Hansel could tell, late afternoon. There was no telling how far
away from brimstone they were. They might have even been outside the county
for all they knew.  
  
Eventually, they came to a road, but unlike any they had ever seen in
Brimstone. This one was paved with grey-blue asphalt, a dashed yellow line
running down the center. Hansel and Gretel stared upon the nearly alien
terrain. Only once before had they seen what Mother called 'the Highway,' and
that had been the one and only time the family had traveled to Culver for a
funeral.  
  
"Oh, lordy, Han," lamented Gretel. "We ain't nowhere near Brimstone, are we?"  
  
Hansel gave his sister's hand a reassuring squeeze. "It don't really matter,
once ya think 'bout it," he said grimly. "We wouldn't know which way t' go
anyways."  
  
Gretel's eyes darted left and right along the road. Nothing could be seen but
asphalt and trees. Her fear was palpable, yet controlled for the moment. "Well
. . . which way, then?"  
  
Hansel shrugged and tugged on his twin's hand. "I guess one way's as good as
another . . . ."  
  
***  
  
Not a single vehicle passed by on the road for the hour or so that the twins
marched. They spoke little, not really needing to talk, knowing that nothing
they could ask of the other would improve their situation. The less said, the
less chance they had of losing their nerve and their drive to continue on.  
  
Finally, as the sun sat low, and the forests on either side of the road became
dark with menacing shadows, there came a sharp bend in the road. Just beyond
that turn, an oasis seemed to blossom. There was a rather sizable lot before a
long, low building, with several cars and trucks parked within it. A sign at
the edge of the road, mimicked upon the wall of the building beside broad
glass doors, read: "Haggie's Diner."  
  
The twins practically broke into tears of elation at the sight. They hugged
and grinned, finally feeling a sense of hope intrude upon their woebegone
minds. Amid laughs and giggles, they ran hand-in-hand toward possible
salvation.  
  
As they approached the doors to the establishment, the glass portals swung
open before them, a tall, stocky man emerging. He paused upon seeing the
teenagers who faltered and stopped short in his presence, eyes scanning
briefly over the pretty, albeit dirty girl. With only a slight nod and smile,
he headed toward a well-used truck, sucking on a toothpick.  
  
Sharing a look that bespoke caution, Hansel and Gretel stepped through the
doors, inhaling the nearly intoxicating aromas of fresh-cooked food. The floor
was covered in black and white tile, the booths and free-standing chairs
before small square tables padded in dark, polished red vinyl. There was a
classic jukebox against one wall, and Waylon Jenning's mournful drone emanated
from speakers hidden within the ceiling.  
  
_"Sometimes it's Heaven, sometimes it's Hell_  
  
_Sometimes I don't even know_  
  
_Sometimes I take it as far as I can_  
  
_Sometimes I don't even go . . . ."_  
  
The twins stared, impressed and taken aback. Never had they seen such a place.
Old Man Walton's little diner was nothing but a shack compared this
magnificent edifice. The floors were clean, and more than that, they shone!
The coffee machine behind the counter, the glass-doored pantry boxes upon the
short counter, even the stainless steel door that lead, presumably, to the
kitchen looked buffed and polished, catching stray rays of light and
glittering like diamonds.  
  
"Wow," the twins spoke in unison.  
  
There were half a dozen patrons in the diner, most of them seated in low-
backed chairs along the counter, all of whom turned to glance at the new
arrivals. The diner could have easily accommodated five times as many
customers, if not more. A far cry from Old Man Walton's paltry three tables
and little breakfast bar.  
  
Hansel and Gretel endured the scrutiny of the other diners for a few moments,
until the men -- there was not a woman in sight, Gretel quickly noticed --
returned to their meals or coffee. The siblings were glad their appearance was
not an intrusion; they needed no more worries than which already plagued them.  
  
"You got any money?" whispered Hansel under his breath, while simultaneously
digging in his pockets. He found a few crumpled bills and some coins, which he
produced as Gretel drew her own hands from her pockets.  
  
"I got five dollars," she said with an encouraging smile, smoothing out a
wadded bill against her thigh.  
  
"'Bout th' same," muttered Hansel, looking at his tiny fortune. "Hope it's
enough."  
  
Carefully, the pair approached the counter, standing between stools at the
nearest end, away from the burly men who looked to be truckers, hunters,
loggers or similar. Some looked, assessing Gretel casually. One man smirked,
but said nothing before tilting his mug back against hair-shrouded lips.  
  
The stainless-steel door opened, and a tall, imposing woman emerged, walking
with almost stately regality. She was both slender and strong, beautiful and
imposing. Faint wrinkles were the only sign of age upon an otherwise
unblemished face dominated by storm-colored eyes which, under the right
circumstances, could be quite menacing. The woman wore a dark blue dress which
accentuated her curves rather than hiding them. In particular, the ample and
somewhat freakish size of her bosom was showcased within tight fabric,
cleavage shown courtesy of a few unclasped buttons.  
  
She smiled upon spying the twins, curling thick red hair back behind her ear
with a flip of her wrist. Nails painted to match the color of the dress
glittered briefly. "Well, afternoon there, kiddos," she exclaimed buoyantly,
approaching the end of the counter. A cursory look over the garb of her new
patrons produced a wondering laugh. "Don't you too look like warmed-over you-
know-what."  
  
The twins blushed in shame, casting their eyes down. Hansel rubbed the greasy
and dirty bills in his hand hopelessly. The amused chuckles of the men in the
diner reverberated in his ears.  
  
"Hey, now, no need to be so glum," the woman said supportively. "I'm Meg. I
own the place. Inherited it after my mother passed on. Here, relax; find
yourself something to eat."  
  
The twins climbed reluctantly into a pair of stools, leaning one another as if
sharing conspiratorial secrets. They flipped the menus open, holding them up
while Meg busied herself with the other customers.  
  
"We can't afford none o' this," Gretel whispered worriedly after a minute.  
  
Hansel ground his teeth in thought. "Yeah, but she don't know that," he said
meaningfully.  
  
Gretel frowned. "We can't do that," she insisted. "That's stealin'!"  
  
Hansel gave his sister an intent look. "Ya wanna eat, or don't ya?"  
  
A slender, blue-tipped finger appeared over the edge of Hansel's menu, pulling
it down. Meg smiled upon the twins. "You two ready to order?"  
  
"Um—" began Gretel.  
  
"We'll take two o' th' specials," Hansel interrupted, speaking quickly. He sat
up straight, meeting Meg's eye. "An' load 'em up," he added with a crooked
grin.  
  
Meg smiled and winked. "Sure thing, young man," she said, and turned with the
barest swish of her skirt.  
  
Gretel slapped her hand to her brother's arm and hissed. "What're ya doin'? We
can't even afford one o' them plates!"  
  
Hansel shot her a look. "No, but I bet we can run faster'n she can," he said
meaningfully.  
  
Gretel sighed, hanging her head. Despite her misgivings, however, hunger
gnawed at her like a scraggly old hunting dog on an old bone. The die had
already been cast, she figured. _Might as well just go 'long with it . . . ._  
  
***  
  
The food was delicious. Two thick sausage links served with sauerkraut, toast,
warm potato salad and fresh-baked bread, with large cups of lentil and bean
soup to start with. The twins ate voraciously, both due to hunger and because
they understood this would be the last meal of the day and possibly the last
for a while. Not a single crumb was left upon either plate by the time Hansel
and Gretel were finished. They washed down the last bites with dark, bitter
tea.  

Meg appeared to clear away the plates with a chuckle. "You two have quite the
appetite," she commented. "Don't tell me you've run away from home."  
  
The twins exchanged quick glances, conveying volumes in the space of a
heartbeat. Finally, Hansel looked back to the attractively mature woman. "More
like, home ran 'way from us," he said sourly.  
  
Meg's smile faded a moment, then returned. "Well, I'll tell you what," she
said, leaning slightly, affording the young man before her a more than ample
view of her considerable cleavage. "In the spirit of humanitarianism,
dessert's on me." She pushed away abruptly, reaching for one of the pantry
cases a few paces away.  
  
"Why'd ya tell 'er that?" asked Gretel in a harsh whisper, glaring at her
brother. "An' stop starin' at her butt like that!"  
  
Hansel blinked, tearing his glimpse away. "I wasn't starin'!"  
  
"You were so!"  
  
"Here you are, little ones," Meg chirped, setting two pieces of pecan pie
before the twins, along with fresh forks. "Eat up. You'll need your stamina,
I'm sure."  
  
Hansel smiled back, thinking what a sexy implication Meg's words had carried.
Mindful of his sister, however, he forced himself to look down, digging into
the slice of pie before him even as he imagined savoring a different kind of
'pie' altogether.  
  
"You're disgusting," whispered Gretel disapprovingly. "She's as old as
Mother!"  
  
Hansel frowned, chewing a piece of pie. He cast an annoyed glance to his twin.
_Ya just had t' say that, didn't ya?_  
  
As the twins ate in silence, the door opened with a ringing chime. A broad-
shouldered man, somewhat thick in the middle yet impressively built, stepped
through the door, clad in a sheriff's uniform. His sneering look fell
immediately upon Meg, catching her just as she was bending over at the waist
to retrieve a packet of fresh grounds for the coffee machine.  
  
"Evening, honey-cheeks," he called out.  
  
Meg straightened and turned with a frown, regarding the man who now approached
her counter. "Is it already that time of the month?" she asked wearily.  
  
The marshal grinned, sliding onto a stool. "Time flies, hey, honey?"  
  
Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, as it happens, Fred, it's that time of the month
for me, too," she quipped. "_If_ you know what I mean."  
  
Fred chuckled. "Don't bother me none," he returned with a lewd wink. "I earned
my red wings a long, long time ago."  
  
The proud woman huffed. "I still have customers," she said, nodding toward the
twins. All but a lone trucker, settled in a booth with the day's paper, had
left for the evening.  
  
Fred pursed his lips smugly, drumming thick fingers upon the counter. "Then I
guess I'll have some coffee while I wait."  
  
A perturbed sigh rolled off Meg's lips. Without another word, she turned, took
up a coffee cup, and poured Fred's coffee. She brushed away after leaving the
man to his beverage, and approached the twins. The sweet smile that decorated
her dark pink lips was forced.  
  
"Looks like I'm closing early tonight," she said. "How are you two paying?"  
  
The twins swallowed their last bites of pie with matching, nervous gulps,
staring at Meg. The matron breathed out, shoulders falling as she understood.  
  
"I should have known," she said, then smiled slyly, eyes narrowing. "Well, as
it happens, I could use a little help cleaning up the place."  
  
Hansel and Gretel regarded one another questioningly, considering the
restaurant owner's offer.  
  
Meg leaned close to the twins, again showing cleavage which captivated Hansel,
and spoke in a low, foreboding tone. "You don't really want to run on a check
when the sheriff is here, do you? That wouldn't be very smart. Besides . . .
you'd be helping me out. I'll let you two stay the night, and . . . give you
some breakfast in the morning. How's that?"  
  
The twins exchanged a quick look. "Ya got a deal," said Gretel.  
  
Meg smiled sweetly, straightening. "Then why don't you two come around the
back?"  
  
With nods and the slightest of smiles, Hansel and Gretel slipped from their
seats and walked along the lustrous counter toward the stainless steel door.
The sheriff watched, following Gretel's delectable form with his eyes.  
  
"Taking in more strays, Meg?"  
  
Meg shot him a look before pushing the door open for her new charges. "You
just stay where you are, Fred. We'll conduct 'business' in a minute." She
raised her voice addressing the trucker who sat in the booth. "Hey! Loomis!
Closing time!"  
  
***  
  
The kitchen was spacious, larger than any either of the twins had ever seen.
It looked to them like an assembly line for food, with stainless still prep
tables and glass-front coolers stocked with all manner of foodstuffs. The most
dominating feature was an enormous baking oven, a heavy, slitted grill giving
glimpses of the roaring fire within. Hansel and Gretel had never seen so
immense an oven in their life. It was as large as Mother's station wagon, they
figured.  
  
"Follow me, kids," Meg said cheerily, striding purposefully around the
equipment, toward a door in the back. She pushed it open, flicking on a light,
revealing a row of empty metal cages on one side of the room, and metal
shelving crammed with various dried goods. Timidly, the twins entered the
room, whereupon Meg swiftly closed the door, twisting a key in the lock.  
  
The convivial smile was gone, replaced in an instant with a feral countenance.
"You little thieves!" screeched the woman, her once beautiful face abruptly
transformed into one of hideous ugliness. Teeth as jagged as an old wolf's
were bared as blood-red lips parted, stretching skin that looked like sun-
baked leather. Eyes like embers burned in their sockets.  
  
Hansel and Gretel yelped in fear, stumbling back, away from the twisted crone
Meg had suddenly become. They grunted in unison when their backs fell hard
against the metal cages.  
  
"You thought you could come into _my_ house, eat _my_ food, and not pay for
it?" roared the witch. Her hands --beautifully manicured before but now as
threatening as talons -- shot out to wrap around the twins' throats. She
jerked Hansel and Gretel close, breathing acridly upon their faces. "You
thought wrong, little ones. You will most certainly pay."  
  
With a quick nod of the witch's head, one of the cages inexplicably sprang
open with a screech of hinges and a clamoring of metal. Strength unlike
anything a human being could possess hurled Hansel inside, where he fell with
a cry of pain. The cage slammed closed, sealing him within.  
  
"What'ya gonna do t' him?" cried Gretel, struggling vainly against Meg's grip.  
  
"You worry about yourself, girl," snapped Meg, glaring upon the older of the
two. The nostrils of her beakish nose flared slightly as she sniffed. "No
sweet smell of purity on you. That's good. But your brother . . . ." she
trailed off, dragging Gretel beside he and approaching the cage in which
Hansel now stood, gripping the bars.  
  
The witch inhaled deeply, an evil grin stretching her lips. "Yes. A virgin
male. Perfect."  
  
Hansel trembled, though he struggled to hide his fear. His eyes found his
sister's. _Try t' be strong, Greta._  
  
Gretel whimpered, still attempting to pull the witch's claw from her throat.
_I'll try . . . ._  
  
"Now, you just sit tight, my sweet boy," Meg cooed menacingly. "I have a
little project for your sister."  
  
Hansel's fear and anger flared as Meg dragged a squirming Gretel to the door.
"Ya leave m' sister 'lone!" he cried. "Don't'ya hurt m' sister!"  
  
The witch responded with a chilling cackle, opening the door and spiriting
Gretel away. The door slammed shut swiftly, as if shoved from behind.  
  
"Greta! GRETA!"  
  
***  
  
The witch's grip shifted from Gretel's neck to the girl's arm as Meg pulled
the girl toward another door. Gretel cried out for help several times,
screaming at the top of her lungs in the hope that Sheriff Fred would hear
her. The witch slapped Gretel hard across the face, sending her sprawling into
what appeared to be a bathroom.  
  
"Don't waste your breath, you little backwoods bitch," she growled. "I've
magicked this entire building so that no sound escapes from one room to the
next. Now, get those dirty clothes off!"  
  
Gretel sat up on the floor, touching her split lip and glaring in terror at
the witch. "Wh-what?"  
  
"Strip, girl!" commanded Meg, hulking like an ogre in the doorway. "I want
every stitch of clothing off that skinny little body! Do it!"  
  
Amid trembling whimpers and fumbling fingers, Gretel scrambled to her feet,
hastily removing her shirt and shorts and everything else she wore before
Meg's impatient gaze. Shamefully, she stood nude before her captor, self-
consciously covering her privates.  
  
"Put your hands at your sides, girl," ordered the witch, approaching the
quivering girl. "I need to get a good look at you."  
  
Eyes squeezed shut, Gretel did as she was told, wincing and flinching when she
felt the dry, bark-like hands of the witch touching her breasts, her thighs,
even the plump mound of lightly-furred flesh above her sex. Gretel caught her
breath when she felt a twig-like finger slide against her labia, pushing in
slightly.  
  
"Not exactly his type," commented Meg, sniffing her finger. "But you're fresh
and young. He should be happy with you."  
  
Gretel opened her eyes fearfully. "Wh-wh-what ya talkin' 'bout?"  
  
The witch sneered. "Tell me, girl, are you willing to do whatever it takes to
keep you and your brother safe from harm?"  
  
Gretel rubbed her shoulders, not knowing what the witch was getting at, but
knowing whatever it was, she wasn't going to like it. "M-maybe . . . ."  
  
Meg cackled. "Sure you will," she said patronizingly. "You'll do whatever I
tell you, girl, because if you don't, then your brother starts to lose weight
one finger at a time."  
  
Gretel gasped, eyes wide and shimmering in terror. "No! Please! Don't hurt
Han!"  
  
"Then you do what I say." Meg indicated the sink and the small, stand-up
shower behind Gretel. "Now, get yourself cleaned up. You may be young and
fresh, but you stink like a barnyard dog. Fred may be pig, but I'm sure he
draws the line somewhere."  
  
Gretel blinked in surprise. _What? Does she mean I'm gonna have'ta screw that
sheriff?_  
  
The witch chuckled darkly. "Oh, don't try to play innocent. At least one
little badger's played around in your cave. And it could be worse. He could be
ugly."  
  
"B-but . . . why?" Gretel asked.  
  
Meg sighed, hands on her hips. "Because, when he first became sheriff, some
ten years ago, he decided he had to do safety inspections of all the
businesses in the county. Well, I don't like people snooping around back here,
so . . . I made him a deal. And he's been taking advantage of that deal every
month since."  
  
"S-so . . . if ya been makin' it with him for ten years . . . ."  
  
Meg sneered, gesturing casually. The clothes upon the floor flew into her
hand, startling Gretel. "Maybe I just don't feel like it. Besides . . . It'll
be interesting to see what he does with a young kitty like you. Now, get
yourself cleaned up."  
  
The door closed, leaving a bewildered and intimidated Gretel to the task of
freshening up. She had to be honest with herself; she was grateful for the
opportunity to wash off the sweat and dirt that clung to her skin like oil.
Despite the reason for which Meg wanted her clean, Gretel was grateful.  
  
The shower helped immensely to calm her anxiety. The reality of hers and her
brother's confinement sunk in to the point where Gretel began thinking of ways
to both placate the witch and find a way to escape. Gretel did not doubt that
the witch would do all manner of unspeakable things to Hansel if Gretel did
not obey. Gretel decided, as she brushed out her hair and stared at her
reflection, that until the witch's plans were known, she would do whatever Meg
demanded of her.  
  
_Includin' boffin' Fred th' sheriff_, she thought heavily. Gretel took a deep
breath, looking into her own eyes. _Well, if I gotta do it, I might as well
make th' most o' it . . . ._  
  
Skittishly, Gretel opened the bathroom door, peering out. Although she was
naked, the lack of Meg's presence gave the girl a moment's hope of running to
Hansel's prison and somehow finding a way out through the back of the
restaurant. Naked and free was better than naked and trapped, after all.  
  
"Why, don't you clean up well."  
  
Gretel gasped at the sound of Meg's 'sweet' voice, and turned to see the woman
as she had appeared when the twins first entered the diner; pretty, busty, her
blue dress straining at the buttons, long, perfectly coifed red hair trailing
behind a friendly, motherly face.  
  
"Well, come on, you don't want to keep the man waiting," Meg urged the girl.  
  
Gretel's heart hammered, yet she maintained her poise, walking upright and
with as much confidence as she could muster. _Maybe he'll be quick, like
Cooper always was,_ she thought hopefully. _Just so long as he don't wanna
stick it in th' back door, I'll be okay . . . ._  
  
Meg held the stainless steel door open for Gretel, who hesitated in the
doorway. Even though everyone else in the diner was gone, all the lights were
still up, and the world outside was dark. Anyone driving by would be able to
see easily inside the place. And here Gretel was, naked as the truth during
Sunday mass, about to let a perfect stranger ravage her.  
  
"Go on," cooed Meg, her voice so sugary it was nearly sickening. The witch's
lips practically brushed Gretel's. "Go on and give that man a good . . . hard
. . . _fucking_."  
  
Gretel's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had only ever known two men in
her life -- Cooper Barnes, her first love, and the town mechanic, Ethan
(though no one knew about that, and it had only happened twice) -- and was not
all that sure of herself when it came to sex. Certainly, she had never
'fucked' a man before! And in such a public place, with all the lights on, no
less!  
  
Carried on quivering legs, Gretel stepped into the diner, staring at Sheriff
Fred as he sat at the counter, sipping his coffee. He was a big, muscular
brute of a man, yet with a hometown boy's friendly and handsome face. Gretel
was glad for that, at least. Her immediate impression was that the sheriff
was, essentially, a nice man_. Maybe this won't be so bad after all,_ Gretel
thought.  
  
Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Fred turned his head to look,
immediately arching a brow in surprise and wonder. The naked girl approached
him, stopping a good five or six paces away. Behind her stood Meg, hands held
together over her apron.  
  
"So this's what you meant by 'a pleasant surprise?'" Fred asked of the older
woman, before his eyes returned to Gretel's slender, youthful body. He gazed
with undisguised interest upon the young woman's firm, upturned breasts, her
slender legs and small patch of dark pubic hair.  
  
"I thought you might like to try a different dish," Meg said with a wink. "Go
on, Greta. Make nice with the man."  
  
Gretel took a deep breath, nervousness churning in her stomach like an opossum
running chaotically around inside her. She reminded herself of why she was
doing this: _'Cause if I don't, that witch is gonna hurt my Hansel. I can't
let that happen. 'Sides, like she said, ain't like I never done it before . .
. ._  
  
Fred turned fully in his chair, smiling smugly upon Gretel as she slowly
ambled closer. "Yeah, c'mere, girl. I won't hurt you."  
  
Gingerly, Gretel sidled up to the man, eyes downcast. Her hip brushed the
inside of Fred's right leg. She could see the growing bulge beneath his
khakis, and that made her both frightened and curious. Fred was a large man,
all around; she wondered if that meant _everything_ about him was big.  
  
Still, she flinched when the sheriff cupped her breasts in his meaty hands. He
squeezed them, a bit roughly, pinched and pulled her nipples. Gretel hissed
through her teeth, feeling both a jolt of pain as well as a sense of heat that
shot throughout her body, gathering low in her abdomen like the coals of a
fire that had just been ignited.  
  
"Oh, you're gonna be sweet, little girl," Fred moaned softly. He rudely pushed
his fingers between Gretel's legs, cupping her intimate flesh. "That's a real
prime pussy you got there. You're not a virgin, are you?"  
  
Gretel began to answer, but as her lips parted, she gasped loudly, eyes
flashing open wide from the feel of a thick, rough finger pushing past her
slightly damp lips, into the tunnel beyond. Fred dug deep with that singular
digit, pressing his palm against the young woman's pubic mound.  
  
"Nope, not a virgin," Fred said with a chuckle. "Still pretty tight, though.
That's good."  
  
Gretel was sure her face was glowing beet red by that point. The finger
squirming inside her, however, felt somewhat pleasant, in an unanticipated
way. She could feel herself moistening around the sheriff's finger. Her
breasts were beginning to throb, as if trying to grow, her nipples puckering
stiffly and growing darker with each passing moment. Regardless of the
scenario, she was becoming aroused.  
  
Abruptly, Fred withdrew his questing finger from Gretel's sex, and tasted the
glistening essence as he smiled upon her. "You're a shy one, aren't you?"  
  
Gretel swallowed dryly, nodding, still keeping her head down. "Yes, sir."  
  
"I got a feeling that's about to change," the sheriff commented, shifting on
the stool and pulling down his zipper. Gretel's anxiety returned as she
listened to the tiny metal teeth pop loose. Fred's hand dug inside, searching,
manipulating. Finally, the dark, shiny head of an erect penis was revealed to
her, riding a pale, somewhat thick shaft.  
  
"What do you think about that?" the sheriff asked with a rakish grin. He held
his stiff cock with the fingers of one hand, while the other settled upon
Gretel's shoulder.  
  
"Um . . . it's okay," she responded.  
  
"'Okay,' little girl?" Fred echoed. His voice held an edge as he continued.
"It's a lot more than 'okay.' Now, why don't you be a good little white trash
whore and get to know it better. And I better not feel any teeth."  
  
The sheriff's hard words made Gretel whimper in fear that she had done
something wrong. Eager to placate him, if only to stave off any chance of
further rudeness, she settled to her knees between Fred's spread legs. The
manly aroma of the sheriff's crotch was strong, touched with the sweet odor of
sweat. Experimentally, Gretel slid her hands up Fred's legs to his cock,
wrapping her fingers around the shaft. She leaned in to lick, then kiss the
tip.  
  
"Put it in your mouth, girl," Fred ordered, his voice like gravel. "Suck it.
Suck my cock."  
  
Gretel paused only briefly, then took a breath and submerged the stiff tube of
flesh in her mouth. She drew the flavor out of him, sucking intently, not
moving her head at all. The sheriff's cock was thick enough to make her lips
stretch, but no longer than any she had tasted before. She was able to engulf
more than half his stiffness with ease.  
  
"Oh, that's it, baby . . . suck it good, you little slut. Get me ready for
that tight little cunt of yours . . . ."  
  
Gretel frowned at the sheriff's words, yet dutifully massaged his cock with
her mouth, sliding up and down. She didn't like how he was referring to her as
a 'whore' and a 'slut,' how he called her private place a 'cunt.' Those were
rude words. Gretel decided she did not like the sheriff very much.  
  
Yet still she serviced him, whimpering now and then as the penis throbbed in
her mouth, gliding between her slick lips. Fred had his hands on the girl's
head, guiding it up and down. He liked watching the sight of his cock
disappearing into the teenager's mouth. Crude words dribbled from his mouth
like the drool that dripped down Gretel's chin. With each use of _whore, slut,
bitch,_ and _cunt,_ Gretel felt more and more debased, more and more defiled.  
  
The sheriff finally stiffened, his cock like marble in Gretel's mouth. She
knew what that meant, and prepared herself for the hot outpouring that
signaled the man's orgasm. She was glad for his impending release, not because
she wanted to bring this rude man pleasure, but because she hoped it meant an
end to her abuse.  

But the sheriff didn't ejaculate. Instead, he pulled Gretel's mouth off his
penis, leaving strands of saliva that trailed from his cock to her flushed
lips. Gretel gasped, and for the first time, looked up to the man she
serviced.  
  
"That was a nice appetizer, girl," growled Fred, pushing up from his stool and
roughly turning Gretel around. He shoved her against one of the tables in the
dining room, bending her over. "Time for the main course."  
  
Gretel whimpered, clawing the surface of the table, feeling the sheriff's cock
nudging its way between her lips. Her arousal had vanished, leaving her dry,
but her saliva upon Fred's cock allowed him to push inside her. She cried out
in pain, feeling her labia pinched and turned inward with the intrusion. But
her exclamation was more from the debasement she felt, being taken the way she
was, and by a man who saw her as nothing more than a tool to be used.  
  
"Fuck, you're tight, girl! God damn! Oh, this is gonna be a good fuck!"  
  
Gretel grunted, or moaned, or mewled with each hard thrust the sheriff made
within her, not one of her emissions the result of pleasure. Her face
contorted with humiliation, made worse when she saw Meg standing by the
stainless steel door, arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched.  
  
Again and again the sheriff drove inside the girl, gripping her hips, groping
around for her pert breasts. Gretel gritted her teeth when he pinched her
nipples again, silently cursing her own body as jolts of pleasure raced down
to her clitoris. But that tiny thrill could not overcome her sense of
degradation.  
  
Finally, thick, meaty hands squeezing her hips, the sheriff plunged deep
inside the girl, shaking. "Oh, fuck! Here it comes, girl! Here it comes!"  
  
_God, no, please, no, God . . ._ Gretel squeezed her eyes shut, suffering the
spasms of the man against her, the hot rush that spread through her womb as
the sheriff's seed poured within. Fred moaned and sighed with his release,
jabbing a few times, giving in to the rippling of Gretel's vaginal muscles
around his spurting shaft.  
  
"Oh . . . man . . . fuck, that's nice . . . so nice . . . ."  
  
The sheriff's enjoyment of the moment only worsened it for Gretel. She lowered
her head to the table, sobbing quietly, waiting for the man to be done with
her and leave.  
  
Beside the door to the kitchen, Meg smirked, eyes smoldering as she beheld the
scene.  
  
***  
  
Hansel sat morose within his cage, gaze darting back and forth between the
cell floor and the door to the room. Gretel had been gone for almost an hour,
he figured. He wondered what atrocities, what pain, the witch was inflicting
upon his sister. That he was helpless to prevent any of it sapped at his soul.  
  
He had spent the first several minutes looking for any possible way out of the
cage. But there was no lock that he could find, and the bars were too narrow
for him to slip through. The floor and back of the cage were covered with
relatively soft pressboard. He could not even make a weapon from it.  
  
Melancholy and despair had set in, leaving Hansel numb. The fact that he could
not hear anything that occurred outside the room in which his cell sat was
both comforting and disturbing. Yet still, he felt flashes of intense emotion
now and then, feelings of abasement and mortification. Gretel's pain, he knew,
though he knew not what was happening to her.  
  
When the door opened, Hansel shot to his feet, gripping the bars once more.
Meg the witch shoved Gretel before her, sending Hansel's sister sprawling upon
the floor. Hansel gritted his teeth in anger at the sight of his naked, angry
sister. "What'd ya do t' her!" he shouted.  
  
Meg smiled haughtily, gesturing. The other cage sprang open with a metallic
clatter. "I'll let your sister tell you about it," she said, stooping to grab
a handful of Gretel's short, thick hair. The girl struggled fiercely, clawing
at the witch's hand before being thrown into the cage. The door slammed down
loudly, making all the cages rattle.  
  
"Gretel?" asked Hansel, looking with concern upon his twin.  
  
But she ignored him for the moment, clamoring to her feet to grasp and shake
the bars of her cage. "Ya evil fuckin' bitch! I'm gonna kill ya!" she
shrieked.  
  
Meg only laughed, stepping from the room. The door swept closed behind her.
Gretel shook the bars of her cage, screaming incoherently for a moment or so,
then shoved herself back, falling to the floor of her cage.  
  
Hansel was quiet for several beats of his anxious heart, watching Gretel as
she curled her legs up and hugged them. She glared out at nothing in
particular, chin rest upon her reddened knees, rocking back and forth.  
  
"What happened?" Hansel asked at last.  
  
Gretel's temples bulged as she ground her teeth. "Nothin'."  
  
Hansel sighed. "Ya can't tell me that," he said. "I can tell when ya—"  
  
"I said, _nothin'_!" yelled Gretel, her violet eyes vivid with misdirected
anger. She resumed her rocking.  
  
Hansel slumped, sitting down in his cage, reaching through the bars for his
sister. "We're gonna get outta here," he said.  
  
Gretel rocked in silence, eyes darting to her twin's hand. Finally, her eyes
grew moist, then began dripping anew. She grabbed Hansel's hand and pulled
herself as close to him as the cage walls would allow. The tears poured
freely, drenching her cheeks, dripping down to her body.  
  
"One way or 'nother, we gonna get outta here," Hansel vowed, slipping his arm
around his sister's shoulders, beneath her chin. Gretel clutched at him
tightly, sobbing.  
  
"We better," she whispered between blubbery sniffles. "We better . . . ."  
  
***  
  
The sound of the door opening roused the twins from sleep. Following more
tears, Gretel had shared with her brother what had happened with the sheriff.
Hansel's first reaction had been rage, but he forced himself to be calm for
his sister's sake. They had spoken throughout most of the night, about
everything from their current predicament to life back in Brimstone.
Eventually, fatigue had claimed them, and they fell asleep in their cages,
curled up upon their sides and facing on another through the bars that
separated them.  
  
Meg -- in her 'pretty' guise -- carried a laden tray into the room, setting it
down before the cages. Hansel and Gretel warily sat up, turning to face their
captor.  
  
"When ya gonna let us go?" Hansel asked the witch.  
  
Meg smiled radiantly, settling into a lotus position on the floor. "Once I get
what I want," she said, meeting Hansel's gaze meaningfully.  
  
Gretel frowned as Hansel looked away. "What ya want with him? He ain't done
nothin'!"  
  
Meg showed teeth as she grinned. "And that's exactly why I want him," she
said.  
  
Gretel frowned. "That don't make no sense."  
  
"No, I suppose it doesn't, to simpletons like you. But then, you don't know
anything about witches," Meg said. "You see, witches can live for a very long
time. But to do so, we have to complete certain rituals and potions. Some are
very complicated."  
  
"So what's that have'ta do with me?" asked Hansel.  
  
"Simple," responded Meg, licking her lips lecherously. "I want you to make
love to me."  
  
Hansel balked, nearly retching, recalling the images of Meg in her
hideousness. "No way! You're a monster!"  
  
Meg's face darkened malevolently. "I never said you had a choice, boy," she
glowered. "Now, eat up. I don't want a single crumb left on those plates."
Abruptly shoving herself to her feet, the witch left the room. Hansel and
Gretel both shuddered as the door slammed shut behind her.  
  
"What we gonna do, Greta?" asked Hansel worriedly. "I don't wanna make it for
th' first time with that nasty old hag!"  
  
Gretel's eyes shone with sympathy. "I know, Han. But let's at least eat. Maybe
we can figure somethin' out."  
  
The twins dragged the tray closer, each taking up a plate loaded with eggs,
grits, hashed browns and biscuits. They had to hold them outside of the cage
and feed themselves through the bars.  
  
"Ugh! How'm I sposed'ta eat after what that witch just said? Just th' thought
o' her naked . . . _ump!_"  
  
***  
  
Meg returned nearly an hour later, smiling with all the grace and charm of a
doting parent upon seeing the empty plates and glasses. She held a small red
vial in her hands, cradling it reverently as if it were the Holy Grail. A
casual arcane gesture sent the tray with its empty plates sliding across the
room, startling the twins.  
  
"I have something for you, Hansel," she said with a soft, sultry voice. "But
first, you need to get out of those clothes."  
  
Hansel paled. _Oh, sweet Jesus . . . she wants t' do it now? In front'a
Greta?_ His eyes darted back and forth between the witch and his sister.
Gretel stared back, wide-eyed and equally appalled.  
  
Meg laughed. "No, not yet, sweetie," she said, as if reading Hansel's mind.
"You may look sweet, but you sure don't smell like it."  
  
Hansel blushed deeply in embarrassment, casting his eyes down. Not that he
wanted the witch's favor, but he certainly felt her disapproval.  
  
"Come on, my little man," Meg continued, her voice tinged with a patronizing
tone. "Get those clothes off, and I'll let you out so you can take a nice,
long shower. Come on, now."  
  
Hansel hesitated, glancing to his sister. Despite the fact that Gretel was
fully nude, Hansel was reluctant. Still, he pulled of his shirt, then his
dirty old shoes and socks, peeling them off his skin. The aromas released
nearly made his eyes water. Gretel gagged.  
  
"I can smell you from here," muttered Meg with dislike. "Go on, take it all
off."  
  
Ashamed, Hansel nevertheless complied, shoving his pants and underwear down to
his ankles. Keeping his eyes on the dirty wooden floor of his cage, he stood,
naked and degraded, for the witch's assessment.  
  
"Hmm," muttered Meg, letting her eyes wander down the slender man's form,
pausing to inspect his tumescent penis. "I see potential . . . ."  
  
Hansel fidgeted, red-faced, peripherally noting the eyes of his sister upon
him. She, too, looked where the witch's attention was focused. In self-
admonishment, she turned away, chewing her lower lip.  
  
"Well, let's get you cleaned up," announced Meg. "Then we'll begin."  
  
***  
  
Gretel was anxious when her brother returned, walking naked before the tall,
stately Meg, his head bowed and eyes following the lines of the floor. She
could not help but admire how admiringly her slightly-younger brother had
filled out. A lifetime of hard chores and typical playtime had toned him well;
his abdomen was flat and firm, his waist narrow, legs and arms naturally
rippling with casual strength. If nothing else, Gretel could admire her
brother as a handsome man.  
  
The witch returned him to his cell, and Hansel turned to face her through the
bars once the door clanged shut. His clothes were gone, removed to the same
bin, Gretel was certain, in which her own now lay.  
  
"Drink this," the witch ordered, holding out the ruby-colored flask.  
  
Gingerly, Hansel took the vial, pulled the stopper, sniffed. His features
contorted in recoil at the foul smell. "What is it?"  
  
Meg glared. "You don't want to know," she said. "Just drink it. All of it.
Now."  
  
Hansel sought his sister's encouragement with his eyes; reluctantly, she gave
it. Neither of them knew what would happen if Hansel drank the strange brew,
but they intrinsically understood what would happen if he did not.  
  
Begrudgingly, Hansel tilted the mouth of the vial against his lips, pouring a
thick, syrupy concoction into his mouth that possessed the consistency of oil
and the flavor of rancid meat and rotten vegetables. He gagged and choked,
struggling to get it all down. Once the potion was swirling in his stomach, he
heaved dryly a few times, feeling acid burn into his throat. Yet he managed to
keep the retched swill down.  
  
Meg grinned. "Good boy," she chided, then gestured. Gretel's cage shook as the
door lifted upward. "Come on out," the witch said to the girl.  
  
Apprehensively, wondering what Meg had in mind, Gretel crawled out, settling
into a crouch upon the cool tiled floor.  
  
"Get on your knees before your brother," Meg instructed. "I'll let you do the
honors."  
  
Gretel frowned. "What'ya mean?"  
  
Meg glared darkly, her eyes flashing crimson. "Do as I say!"  
  
Gretel flinched, then did as she had been directed, settling onto her knees
and facing Hansel through the bars. For a moment, her eyes rest upon her
brother's flaccid penis, but she quickly lifted them to his face, offering
encouragement and hope.  
  
Meg lowered herself beside the young woman, all but pressing herself against
Gretel. "Now . . . watch."  
  
Gretel began to question what it was she was supposed to see, but her words
were stifled as Hansel moaned, eyes closing as if drunken. He swayed upon his
feet, and gripped the bars before him to maintain his footing. His muscles
tensed, and hips were thrust out. The soft length of flesh hanging between his
thighs began to stiffen rapidly, angling outward, swiftly growing to full
length within a matter of heartbeats.  
  
Gretel caught her breath as she gazed upon Hansel's erect cock. The entire
shaft, and especially the head, glowed with the blood that filled it.
Glistening moisture seeped from the tip, dribbling down the length of the
staff or dripping to the floor. Hansel's expression was one of detached
arousal.  
  
"Now, Gretel," whispered Meg. "Wrap your hands around it. Stroke it. It won't
take long."  
  
Gretel shuddered, a mixture of revulsion, fascination, and arousal swirling in
her mind. She barely registered the feel of Meg's hands cupping her breasts,
running up and down her abdomen as she reached through the bars of Hansel's
cage and took hold of her own brother's throbbing cock. Driven by fear of the
consequences should she disobey the witch, and by fascination for the moment,
she began tugging on Hansel's tense phallus.  
  
"That's it," whispered Meg in the girl's ear, squeezing Gretel's firm breasts,
lightly pinching her nipples. "He'll cum quickly. Catch it all in your hands."  
  
Gretel felt detached, like an automaton, masturbating her brother. Hansel
seemed oblivious, his eyes closed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Now
and then he thrust out toward his sister, and would grunt when he did so.
Gretel pumped faster and firmer, her fingers becoming slick with the oily
effusion which seeped from the slit of Hansel's penis.  
  
Finally, Hansel gasped and groaned loudly, his body jerking and face
contorting. From deep within, thick, milky fluid surged forth, flowing and
occasionally spurting, filling the fleshy cup Gretel made of her left hand.
The warm pool of semen overflowed her hand, a little of itdripping down along
her wrist and to the floor below. Gretel tugged to get it all out, enthralled
at the sight.  
  
"Quickly, in the jar," urged Meg, holding up a small, wide-mouthed brown jar
that looked to have once been the home of some kind of jam or marmalade.
Dutifully, Gretel withdrew her hand and tilted it, pouring the cloudy, thick
fluid into the jar. Meg helped, scraping a long, blue-nailed finger down
Gretel's palm, smearing it a bit in Hansel's sperm.  
  
Casually, the witch sucked her finger clean, and held up the jar. She made a
gesture, staring at the contents within. After a few moments, a clouded,
disappointed expression colored her face. "Not enough," she said.  
  
Gretel felt a wave of panic. "What'ya mean?"  
  
Meg sighed as she stood. "It means this will take a little longer than I
thought. Get back in your cage, girl."  
  
"No!" cried Gretel, shooting to her feet. Her eyes blazed with youthful,
unrestrained rage. "I wanna know -- ah!" She cried out as she was thrown
backward by an invisible hand, deposited rudely in her cage. The door slammed
shut.  
  
"You'll know what I want you to know," snarled Meg before she left.  
  
Gretel stared after, naked breasts rising and falling. But her anger was
mitigated as she looked to Hansel, slumped in the cage beside hers. He seemed
drained; his eyes were heavy, mouth slack.  
  
"Han? Ya 'kay?"  
  
Slowly, he nodded. "Uh-huh . . . ." Then he pitched to his side and promptly
passed out.  
  
***  
  
Later that day, then again that evening, Meg returned with more of the bile-
inducing potion for Hansel to consume. As before, the concoction resulted in a
rapid erection yet less and less fogging of Hansel's mind. And as before, the
witch directed Greta to masturbate her brother to orgasm. The third time,
however, was a bit different. Hansel stood up against the bars, thrusting his
pelvis out so that his arcanely engorged cock protruded through the bars. That
made it easier for Gretel to stroke his stiff length, but it also gave Meg a
perverse idea.  
  
"Put it in your mouth, Gretel," the witch seethed through clenched teeth,
pushing on the back of the girl's head. "Suck it out of him."  
  
Gretel gasped with revulsion. "But, he's my brother -- mmph!"  
  
Meg grinned, forcing the dark-haired girl's mouth down upon Hansel's
stiffness. Heat spread through the witch as one twin's lips wrapped around the
other's cock. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it," she whispered
coarsely. "Don't tell me you've never wanted it. If I'd had a twin . . . I'd
never have left the bedroom."  
  
Gretel murmured, such sounds muffled by the stiff length of flesh sliding back
and forth in her mouth. The fact that it was her own brother she was sucking
off both perturbed . . . and excited her. She hated to admit that the witch
was right; now and then, in fact, Gretel _had_ entertained speculative
thoughts of what it would be like to bed her own brother.  
  
"Good girl," encouraged Meg as Gretel's head bobbed back and forth. She toyed
with the girl's stiff nipples, even delved her fingers between Gretel's taut
thighs to feel the pool of wetness between. "Make him cum in your mouth . . .
but don't swallow . . . ."  
  
Gretel moaned, but only partly from disgust or discomfort. She looked up at
Hansel's face, saw him staring back with stupefied eyes. He could have pulled
back, Gretel knew. There was no witch behind him keeping him in place. But he
did not. In fact, he seemed to try to push forward even more, making the bars
of the cage dig into his lower abdomen and upper thighs. It was obvious to his
sister that Hansel relished the sensations she gave him. That fact, for some
reason, inspired Gretel.  
  
_She's suckin' my cock!_ Hansel thought, watching Gretel's slick lips as they
delved down again and again along his quivering shaft. He was suddenly
grateful for the fact that the potion no longer clouded his mind. _I can't
believe how good it feels! My own sister is . . . is . . . Oh, God—_  
  
Before he knew it, before he could warn her, Hansel was ejaculating, pouring
his seed into Gretel's mouth. The warm fluid gushing to the back of her throat
made her gag momentarily, but she managed to keep her composure. Though reflex
almost sent the bittersweet liquid down to her stomach, she was heedful of the
Witch's command of not swallowing. Yet there seemed to be almost too much; it
threatened to overflow the seal of her lips.  
  
Hansel trembled in bliss, enjoying the perverse pleasure he now felt to the
utmost. The fact that Gretel's gaze never wavered from his only intensified
his orgasm. He had never imagined how beautiful and erotic his own sister
could be, how completely satisfying it would be to spend his passion between
her lips.  
  
"Yes," hissed Meg with approval. She petted the back of Gretel's head as if
the girl were an obedient pet. "Make sure you get it all. Squeeze it with your
hands . . . yes, that's it. Good girl, Greta."  
  
Gretel blinked a few times, smelling nothing but the piquant aroma of Hansel's
cum. She slipped her lips from her twin's penis, leaving it glistening as it
slowly softened. Meg's hand holding another small, dark jar appeared before
her, silently commanding her to discharge the contents of her mouth. For a
moment, Gretel considered swallowing her brother's fluid, just to confound the
witch. But there was no telling how the witch would respond.  

_Ain't got no choice_, Gretel thought, and tilted her head, parting her lips
to allow the slimy fluid to flow out over her lower lip and into the jar.
Hansel's semen was thick, more viscous than any she had experienced before.
Gretel had to waggle her tongue to get it all to slough off.  
  
"Now, let us see," Meg said, inspecting the jar once more. Eyes narrowed, she
emitted a faint "hmm" after a few moments. "We're getting there, children."
She winked. "Perhaps just a few more days."  
  
Hansel and Gretel exchanged morose looks. _A few more days?_  
  
***  
  
The following few days followed a clockwork routine. As soon as Hansel and
Gretel awoke, they were taken to the shower to clean themselves. Meg would
then come to the twins with breakfast, lunch and dinner, Hansel's supplemented
with another dose of the foul potion. Following each meal, Gretel would be
ordered to masturbate her brother to orgasm. Occasionally, Gretel would felate
him, whether ordered by the witch or not. The teen girl had come to the
conclusion that if she had to pleasure her brother, she may as well make it
enjoyable for them both.  
  
At night, when the witch was gone, they would talk, sometimes crying over
their unfortunate circumstances, sometimes becoming angry with their mother
and father for having placed them where they were. They lamented what cruel
fates, or what a cruel God, they suffered for the humiliation heaped upon
them. They worried that the witch would make them slaves for life, or worse
yet, kill them both.  
  
The evening of the twins' fourth day of captivity, Gretel once more serviced
her brother with her lips, tongue and hands. They moaned in unison when
Hansel's release flooded his twins' mouth, and Gretel obligingly milked him
for every drop of precious seed. For those few moments of bliss, Hansel and
Gretel forgot about the witch, until her voice intruded upon them.  
  
"That's enough," Meg said, handing Gretel another jar into which she emptied
her mouthful of soupy fluid. Impatiently, Meg took it the jar, inspecting it
after yet another eldritch gesture. At last she smiled withexcitement, eyes
glowing brightly at the results of her arcane assessment. With a grin, she
looked upon a worried and nervous Hansel. "Oh, my dear young man," she cooed.
"You'll need your rest tonight, indeed."  
  
Hansel swallowed skittishly, fearful eyes darting to Gretel. His sister stared
back. _She don't what I think she mean, do she?_  
  
"Back in your cage, Gretel," Meg said, not watching the girl to see that she
complied. But Greta did, of course, crawling onto the dirty pressboard before
the cage door swung closed.  
  
"Tomorrow, Hansel," the witch said with a wistful sigh, touching the young
man's face through the bars. "Tomorrow, we make love."  
  
Hansel jerked his face away, stepping back in the cage, out of reach of the
evil woman. "I ain't touchin' ya, ya ugly old hag!" he spat defiantly.  
  
Instead of anger, as Hansel had anticipated, Meg merely laughed, tittering
like an amused housemarm. "Oh, my dear boy, if you only knew how much truth
was in your words!" Her smile vanished, countenance abruptly clouded with
malevolence. "But you will make love to me, Hansel. Or else I will have a new
dish on my menu . . . ."  
  
Gretel gasped in fright, cowering in the corner of her cage as the witch's
meaningful gaze fell upon her. She shot her brother a pleading look. "H-Han .
. . ."  
  
"Don't ya dare—" began hansel valiantly.  
  
"Dare? DARE?" screeched Meg, making the young man flinch. "This is my domain!
I rule here! And you will obey my every command, or _Gretel Soup_ will be next
week's special!"  
  
Gretel choked out a cry of anguish, squeezing her arms about her legs. She
shrieked in terror when the cage opened and Meg began to step inside, reaching
menacingly for the girl.  
  
"Okay! Okay!" cried Hansel in panic. "Please don't do nothin' t' my sister!
I'll do it, okay?"  
  
Meg stopped her advance upon the cowering twin and leered upon Hansel. "Of
course you will," she chided, then retreated from the cage, letting it close.
She stepped once more before Hansel, appraising his naked form. "Don't you
fret about a thing, Hansel. You're first time making love will be an
experience you will never forget."  
  
Hansel soured, glaring after Meg as the witch turned and made her way from the
room, humming a perversely light-hearted tune. As soon as the door closed, he
released all of his anger and frustration in a single bellow.  
  
"BURN IN HELL!"  
  
***  
  
"Hansel?"  
  
His sister's timid voice drifted through the darkness to Hansel's ears. The
fate that awaited the young man in the morning kept the angels of sleep from
visiting. Lack of sleep and depression had placed the young man in a morbid
frame of mind.  
  
"I'd rather boff ol' Missus Hawley than that evil witch," he muttered.  
  
Gretel shifted in her cage, sitting up. The darkness of their prison was
almost absolute; she could only make out the faint glow of her brother's skin,
the radiance of his violet-hued eyes. "I'd give anythin' t' not let it
happen," she whispered earnestly.  
  
Hansel sighed, letting out the frustration of his soul. "I know ya would," he
said. He looked sidelong at his twin, reaching between the bars to find her
hand. "But ain't no way I'd let her hurt ya."  
  
Gretel managed a smile, gripping her brother's hand. She slid closer, until
she was nearly touching the bars. "Ya know, all that stuff the witch was
makin' us do . . . I kind'a liked it, sometimes."  
  
Hansel blushed, teeth glittering slightly as a genuine smile pulled his lips
apart. "Yeah . . . guess ya know how much I liked it," he said.  
  
The twins laughed softly. The morbidity of their predicament made such
concerns as morality trivial. It was heartening that, despite the pain and
depression their situation presented, they had managed to find something
positive about it.  
  
"I wanna tell ya somethin', Han," Gretel continued. "Whenever ya . . . ya
know, when ya was getting' off, I was got a li'l buzz . . . ya know . . . down
there."  
  
Hansel frowned skeptically. "Really?"  
  
Gretel's blush was just visible in the shadows. "Yeah."  
  
Hansel squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens ta'morrow," he said. "I hope
everythin'll be right between us."  
  
"Ya don't gotta worry 'bout that, little brother," Gretel said with sincerity.
"We ain't got nothin' if we ain't got each other, ya know?"  
  
Hansel shuddered with emotion, for the first time in days feeling a glimmer of
home light upon his heart. "Thanks, sis."  
  
Gretel huffed. "What I don't get is why it's so all-damned important that ya
gotta be a virgin," she said.  
  
Hansel grimaced. "I don't know," he grumbled. "But, ya remember all'a them
fairy tales Mother used'ta tell us when we was younger? Like, 'bout unicorns
an' virgins, an' dragons an' virgins an' stuff like that. Guess bein' a virgin
is somethin' special for magic-like stuff."  
  
Gretel nodded. "Yeah . . . guess so . . . ." She laughed abruptly. "Now I bet
you're wishin' ya got it on with Maggie Mayfield when ya had the chance, huh?"  
  
Hansel echoed the laugh, more heartily than he should have. "Ya know, I was
just thinkin' that!"  
  
Gretel bounced in mirth. "I know. We're twins, 'member? We can read each
other's mind."  
  
Hansel smiled, nodded, then pulled his sister's hand through the bars to kiss
the fingers that were tightly wound around his own. "Yeah. Like th' time we
caught that rabbit in th' back yard, and dad kept tryin' ta get 'round us ta
see what we got—"  
  
Gretel grinned at the memory. "But every time he'd move 'round one'a us, th'
other'd be there. Like, no matter what, he couldn't get 'round us."  
  
Hansel nodded, gritting his teeth. "Wish we could do somethin' so that witch
couldn't 'round us," he said.  
  
They sat in silence for several minutes, holding one another's hand, brushing
their fingers together. The intimacy was encouraging, helping to sustain that
one fleeting spark of hope.  
  
"Han?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Gretel paused, her heart palpitating in her chest. Her brother could sense it.  
  
"What's'a matter? What ya thinkin'?"  
  
Gretel bit her lip. "What if ya wasn't a virgin no more?" she asked
tentatively.  
  
Hansel frowned deeply. "Well, I don't know. Guess it would screw things up for
the witch, but . . ." He paused, suddenly understanding the implication of his
sister's words. His head snapped about, eyes seeking Gretel's in the dark. "Ya
can't be serious, Greta."  
  
She swallowed nervously. "I-I was just thinkin' . . . I mean, if it's so damn
important that ya gotta be a virgin for some kind'a spell or somethin', then
maybe if ya wasn't a virgin', it'd, like, really mess things up. Maybe she'd
shrivel up an' melt inta a puddle, like."  
  
Hansel turned so that he was directly facing Gretel. "But . . . sis, I mean,
come on. Brothers and sisters ain't supposed ta screw. That's,
what'cha'callit. Incest."  
  
Gretel scoffed loudly. "An' me suckin' ya off ain't? 'Sides, what if it
works?"  
  
Hansel's shoulders slumped. "I-I don't know," he said. "It's wrong. Like, Hell
an' damnation wrong."  
  
Gretel stared at her brother, mustering up as much strength as she could in an
attempt to send it to him. "Ain't no right nor wrong right now, Han. It's just
us and _her_."  
  
"But what if it don't work?" he asked.  
  
"An' what if it does?" she cried emphatically. "Look, if I could think'a
somethin' else, I'd tell ya!"  
  
Hansel fell silent, contemplating his twin's idea. It made sense in a strange,
desperate sort of way, that much he had to admit. There was no doubt that
Greta turned him on, though he was reluctant to admit it. The previous few
days, he had, in some small but growing way, anticipated Meg's visits, aroused
in the knowledge that he would be enjoying his beautiful sister's sexual
talents.  
  
In truth, the only thing that made him hesitate was the base taboo of incest.
Once Hansel realized that, he also realized that the fact that he and Gretel
were brother and sister was little more than a technicality.  
  
_If it works, then we might be able t' get outta this, _he thought_. And if it
don't . . . well, least I wouldn't'a given up my cherry t' some ugly old hag .
. . ._  
  
Slowly, Hansel lifted his head, meeting Gretel's gaze through the bars. He did
not have to speak, nor even nod. His compliance was understood.  
  
Gretel fidgeted nervously, aware of her growing arousal. The idea of coupling
with her brother had occurred to her earlier that day, and the idea of it had
slowly been simmering like a well-made stew with choice ingredients within her
mind. Now that the reality of that desire was imminent, Gretel found her body
responding appropriately.  
  
"O-okay, um," Hansel began, voice breaking. "I guess ya can stand up and, uh,
turn 'round, an' kind'a put your butt against th' bars . . . ."  
  
Gretel reached with both hands through the bars, taking her brother's hands.
The nervousness radiating from him conversely made her feel more calm. "Han,"
she said softly. "Stand up."  
  
Hansel took a few breaths, trying to control the shaking that seemed to begin
in his bones and charge outward through his body. His mouth was dry, his mind
clouded by . . . fear? Passion, perhaps? He did not know. The only thoughts
his brain could produce were images of his naked sister, on her knees before
him, soft pink lips coaxing out the milky gift of semen from his body.  
  
Without a word, Hansel stood, presenting his growing penis to his twin. He
shivered a bit when his body pressed against the cold steel bars, then again
when he felt Gretel's hands caress his stiffening shaft. A groan of pleasure
fell from his lips when the warm envelop of Gretel's mouth encased him,
submerging his cock in exquisite, massaging wetness.  
  
"Mmm . . . ." Gretel's enjoyment was palpable to Hansel, destroying whatever
lingering doubts or fears or thoughts of damnation that remained. He did not
even think that making love to his sister might possibly save them. He only
thought how delicious her mouth felt, how incredibly massaging her fingers and
hands were as they stroked and fluttered along his shaft and swollen
testicles.  
  
For several sweet, tender moments, Hansel held onto the bars for support as
Gretel pleasured him with her mouth. She did not need to do so to make him
erect or ready, she knew; she did so because she enjoyed it, because this
time, this one time, it was just she and her brother and the love they had
always shared, love that was now being taken to a new height.  
  
Gretel suckled him slowly, carefully and lovingly massaging every inch of the
throbbing shaft she could get into her mouth. Her tongue fondled every bump,
every vein, rubbing against the sleek, spongy firmness of the head of his
cock. Her hands gripped the warm shaft, feeling the pulsing of her brother's
heart through it, and cradled the soft, distended sacs beneath. She did not
suck with the intention of making him erupt. Rather, she wanted to savor the
act itself.  
  
Still, her ministrations eventually had Hansel panting and moaning with
impending bliss, and he pushed out with his hips, instinctively wanting the
release Gretel's skill promised to provide. But, just moments from heaven,
Gretel pulled back, leaving Hansel's cock wet and dripping and straining in
the cool night air.  
  
"Not yet," she whispered, pushing to her feet. She stared upon her brother,
her own eyes heavy with lust. "Inside me."  
  
Hansel wavered a moment, swaying on faulty feet. He clenched the bars more
tightly in his hands, and nodded. "Turn 'round," he said.  
  
Gretel grinned, then did so, bending at the waist and pushing her hips back,
legs straight and slightly spread, hands reaching back to hold her firm cheeks
apart. The glistening wetness of her sex was just visible to Hansel in the
darkness. More apparent was the tart, spicy scent of his sister's arousal.  
  
"Hold still," Gretel whispered, looking over her shoulder as she moved back
against her brother. The head of his cock touched the slippery, searing folds
of her sex. The twins moaned in unison. Gretel's mouth fell slack, lips slowly
stretching with a smile as she felt the firm head of Hansel's cock slide past
her labia, against the tight opening, and into . . . .  
  
"Oh, God!" groaned Hansel, arching his back deeply in pleasure, savoring the
snug heat, the rippling and sucking motions of Gretel's tunnel. It felt as if
dozens of tiny kneading hands were pulling his cock inside her, guiding him to
the deep, burning center of her sex.  
  
"Uhmm . . . ." Gretel moved her hands from her cheeks, placing them upon the
bars behind her, pulling herself firmly against them so that Hansel's cock was
firmly seated inside. Her body quaked with pleasure; for long moments, she
held him there, relishing the fullness, the faint twitches and pulses of their
shared passion.  
  
"Greta . . . oh, God, Greta . . . ."  
  
"Shh. It gets better," she whispered with a grin, then pushed forward slowly,
eyelids fluttering with pleasure as Hansel's cock slid sublimely between her
slippery folds. Just before the head of her brother's penis was to slip free,
Gretel jerked herself back down, impaling herself once more with a short,
sharp cry. A cry echoed by another loud groan from Hansel's throat.  
  
Back and forth, slowly at first and then with more desperation and need,
Gretel rocked against the cage, sinking Hansel's cock inside her again and
again. She reached one hand between them and stroked her insistent clitoris,
making her tunnel spasm around her twin's shaft. Hansel abandoned his grip on
the bars in favor of running his hands across Gretel's taut cheeks and narrow
lower back. He matched her movements perfectly, pushing when she did, pulling
when she did.  
  
The cages rocked, metal clapping against metal. The witch's claim that every
room in her abode had been magicked to prevent any sound from escaping from
one room to another was one the twins hoped was true, not that they would have
stopped had Meg come storming into the chamber.  
  
Harder and faster, sister rocked against brother. Pants and gasps, moans and
groans filled the air, as thick and cloying as the sweet scent of their
lovemaking. Hansel felt his release building, his pleasure mounting. He knew
Gretel's passion was quickly cascading like a waterfall as well, eager to
reach the glorious pool that awaited her.  
  
"Greta! G-Greta!"  
  
"H-Hansel! Oh, God!"  
  
Once more grasping the bars between them, Greta shoved back deeply, feeling
her brother's cock spearing deep within her womb. Simultaneously, Hansel
shoved forward as far as he could reach, catching his breath as the tremors of
orgasm exploded through his body, matching the roiling wave of release which
washed through Gretel's spasming form.  
  
For many moments, neither of them moved. All that could be heard within the
room was the labored breath of lovers slowly returning from the highest cloud
of pleasure. The warmth of Hansel's seed was a radiance within Gretel's womb
that slowly spread throughout her body, eliciting a smile of satisfaction upon
her sweaty face. Her internal muscles rippled and sucked with aftershocks,
making Hansel wince and hiss with a mixture of pleasure and pain he had never
known before.  
  
"S-slowly," murmured Gretel, gingerly easing forward, feeling the slick,
tumescent length of flesh gliding out from within. Hansel held still until he
was released from the sweet grip of his sister's tunnel, upon which he
groaned. He leaned against the bars for support, breathing in sharply when
Gretel turned about, dropping to her knees, her eager mouth cleaning his penis
of the evidence of their coupling.  
  
His twin finally stood, slipping her arms through the bars and hugging Hansel
tightly. He was just able to kiss her temple and caress her back.  
  
"Han."  
  
"Y-yeah . . . ."  
  
"Ya ain't no virgin no more."  
  
Hansel began chuckling like a drunken fool, a chuckle which turned into an
idiotic laugh. "Ya . . . ya know somethin'?"  
  
Gretel breathed in, inhaling the scent of their lovemaking. Never had it
smelled so sweet. "What?"  
  
"Right now," Hansel said. "I don't care if it's gonna work or not."  
  
Feeling her brother's chest against her cheek, Gretel smiled.  
  
***  
  
The twins were anxious the following morning when the door opened and Meg
returned, clad in a shimmering, dark silk robe which revealed glimpses of her
abundant cleavage and lean, strong thighs. As with the days before, she
carried a food-laden tray with her, setting it down upon the floor before the
cages of her captives. Her eyes glittered with anticipation, focused almost
solely upon Hansel.  
  
"This is our day, my love," she said with all the air of an obsessed lover.  
  
Hansel took up his plate, regarding Meg sourly. "I ain't your 'love,'" he
said. "I only doin' this 'cause I got no choice."  
  
The witch wasn't the least bit perturbed by Hansel's words. "I suppose it
doesn't really matter," she said. "So long as the deed is done. And it _will_
be done."  
  
Hansel grumbled, but remained silent throughout the meal, sharing worried and
speculative looks with his sister. Anxiety was like a binding cord between
them, vibrating with the tension they felt. They had no way of knowing if
their incestuous coupling would result in liberation . . . or the harshest of
punishments.  
  
_Whatever happens, I love ya, Greta._  
  
She stared back, eyes watering. _Love ya too, Han._  
  
***  
  
The twins were surprised when Meg ordered them both from their cages and to
the bathroom. Gretel showered first, redfaced beneath the spray since both the
witch and her brother watched. It seemed Meg wished no end of humiliation upon
them, even commenting on how Gretel washed between her thighs. Then it was
Hansel's turn, as Gretel toweled.  
  
"Wash that gorgeous cock thoroughly, Hansel," Meg purred, licking her lips
with anticipation. "My, my. You truly have a wonderful body, young man."  
  
The witch's praise was anything but flattering. The knowledge of what he was
being forced to do, after having seen Meg's true form, sent a taste of bile
into his throat. He tried to find comfort and encouragement in his twin;
although it was there, it was tempered with the despair they shared, the
uncertainty of their plan . . . such as it was.  

"That's clean enough, Hansel," Meg said sharply, reaching into the stall to
switch off the water. She handed him a towel impatiently, snatching it away
from him after only a few moments. Obviously, Meg was anxious to perform her
'ritual.'  
  
Hansel and Gretel were marched through the kitchen, which was pristine as
usual. The twins wondered peripherally as to where the witch's help was;
_someone_ had to be getting the kitchen ready for the day, yet there was no
one else about. How did the witch service her customers, if she ran the diner
alone?  
  
In fact, the only piece of equipment that appeared to be ready was the immense
furnace, radiating infernally as the twins passed it by. They could feel the
heat against their skin, like standing too close to the sun. Hansel's arm
brushed the large handle on the grill-like door, resulting in seared flesh and
burned hair. His cry of shock and pain startled Gretel, who screeched as well.  
  
"Be careful what you touch, Hansel," Meg warned sarcastically.  
  
He said nothing, giving the witch a dark look before continuing on toward a
large door at the opposite end of the kitchen. "Through there, children," Meg
directed.  
  
I hope it's over quick, Hansel thought morosely, and pushed open the door. The
bedchamber beyond was nothing like either of the twins would expect from a
foul, evil witch. They had imagined thick, dark candles dripping with wax,
spiderwebs coating the ceiling, some dirty old bed with soiled sheets that
stank like a dog kennel.  
  
Instead, they entered a room that would have impressed Alver Crowley, the
richest man in Brimstone. The walls were painted a deep crimson, accentuated
with dark wooden runners and baseboards. The furniture was ornate, classically
impressive, and kept well, all of it constructed of polished, oiled oak or
mahogany. Dominating the room was an immense four-poster bed, draped with silk
sheets and a turned-down burgundy blanket, thick pillows piled at the head.  
  
The sound of the door closing behind them startled the twins from their
impressed perusal of the room. Meg gave them a sneering look as she stepped
past, turning at the foot of the bed to face her imminent lover.  
  
"Try the door, Gretel," she directed, without taking her eyes from the hungry
survey she made of Hansel's body.  
  
Gretel did not budge, instead glaring at the witch. "Why?" she asked
rhetorically. "It ain't gonna open. I ain't dumb."  
  
Meg chuckled. "So you've learned to accept your fate," Meg said. "That's good.
It will serve you well."  
  
Gretel swallowed nervously. _What she mean by that?_  
  
"I'll make ya a deal," Hansel offered. "I do what ya want, but ya let my
sister go."  
  
Meg cackled loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls and assaulting the
twins' ears. It faded to a soft, evil laugh as Meg shook her head. "No, you
will do what I want because I'll kill your sister and call her _meat loaf_ if
you don't."  
  
Hansel ground his teeth angrily. He looked to Gretel apologetically. _I don't
wanna do it, but I gotta._  
  
She stared back sagely. _I know._  
  
Meg snickered again. "Let's not ruin the moment, my dear," she said. "A young
man's first time should be special, after all. Gretel, why don't you have a
seat?"  
  
Gretel touched her brother's hand reassuringly, before stepping away toward a
large, carved chair made of cherry in the corner. She sat down reluctantly,
fighting the impulse to run. But she would not leave her brother. She could
not. The only thing that gave her hope was that the deed she and Hansel had
committed the evening before would somehow lead to their salvation.  
  
So she lowered herself to her seat, watching with a sense of morbid curiosity
as Hansel approached the witch. Meg untied the belt of the robe, letting the
garment slip from her shoulders to fall with a whisper around her feet.  
  
Hansel stopped for a moment, staring at the physical beauty of the woman
before him. Though he knew -- or, at the least, suspected -- that Meg's
appearance was the result of some potion or spell, he could not help but
admire what his eyes beheld. Strong yet supple, toned yet voluptuous, the nude
woman before him was exotically, supernaturally, perfect.  
  
Enormous breasts hung defiantly upon her chest, like balloons resisting the
pull of gravity, capped with thick pink nipples which puckered like minute
fish mouths. A slender torso below, replete with flat belly containing a hint
of softness, drew Hansel's eye to the perfectly sculpted nest of bright,
flame-hued curls above the witch's plump sex. Her legs were long, toned,
athletic without being overtly muscular, ending in dainty feet with the nails
painted to match those upon Meg's slender fingers.  
  
The witch smiled, impressed with herself upon witnessing Hansel's interested
and aroused expression. The young man's cock began stiffening, filling out and
rising before him. "You want this body," she said softly. "I can tell. Well,
it's all yours, lover. Take me any way you've ever wanted to take a woman."  
  
Hansel struggled to restrain his libido, but such an effort was far too
Herculean. Part of his mind tried to remind him of Meg's hideousness, of the
leathery skin and snarling teeth, the claw-like hands and sulfuric breath. But
that part was growing tinier and tinier, as if the rapidly-growing arousal in
his mind was crowding out all other thoughts or considerations.  
  
Gretel grimaced, squirming in her chair as she watched her brother step
forward, reaching out to touch the witch. His hands went for the ridiculously
large breasts, and Meg sighed, pushing out her bosom, encouraging Hansel's
clumsy gropes. She did not mind as he squeezed and kneaded the heavy, firm
globes, as he caressed and pinched the stiff nipples, finally lowering his
head to take them in his mouth.  
  
"Yes, Hansel, that's it," whispered Meg, her pale cheeks beginning to color.
She reclined slowly onto the bed, bringing her young lover with her. "Go on,
bite them. I like that."  
  
Hansel groaned, thinking of nothing but what his Id, his cock, demanded.
Bracing his hands upon the bed, he pulled on one of Meg's stiff nipples with
his mouth, sucking hard and grazing it with his teeth. Freeing it, he
descended upon the other, this time pushing his teeth into the rubbery, firm
protrusion. Lust hissed from Meg's lips as she lightly raked her nails across
Hansel's back. She spread her legs widely, giving Gretel a glimpse of the
glistening, bright pink folds of her labia before Hansel's body obscured the
view.  
  
Cupping Hansel's face with her hands, Meg gently pulled her lover up along her
body to meet her mouth in a steamy kiss. The head of Hansel's cock nudged the
slippery heat of the witch's sex, making Hansel sigh.  
  
"It's been so long, Hansel," Meg whispered, gazing up into the stupefied young
man's eyes. "Almost too long. I can't wait another moment. I need you inside
me . . . inside me now . . . ."  
  
Gretel turned her head from the display before her, but the sound of her
brother and Meg groaning in unison was as wounding to her soul as the sight of
their copulation would have been. The apparent fact that Hansel was enjoying
the act stabbed into her heart like a cold, dull knife. _It's gotta be some
damn spell or somethin'_, she thought. _Yeah. Gotta be . . . ._  
  
"Oh! Hansel! Yes . . . ." Meg rocked beneath her lover, feeling the length of
him, the thickness within her heated womb. She locked her legs behind his
back, keeping the young man's cock deeply seated, squeezing and sucking along
his shaft with the muscles inside her. Hansel quivered above, arms shaking,
face glazed and mouth slack. The only cognizant thought that entered his mind,
tumbling over and over, was: _whatever she's doin' ta me, I surely hope she
don't stop!_  
  
The lovers rutted and grunted, kissing fiercely as Hansel drove within Meg
again and again. The witch kicked her legs, gasping loudly upon the explosion
of her first orgasm, clawing Hansel's shoulders, arms and chest, drawing lines
of blood that trickled down his flesh. But Hansel either did not notice the
wounds, or did not care, for his energetic thrusts neither stopped nor
faltered.  
  
Meg urged him out of her, but only for as long as it took her to roll over
onto her hands and knees, plump round ass thrust out invitingly for Hansel.
With no need for instruction, Hansel crawled onto the bed behind her, spearing
his cock deep between the swollen, flushed lips of Meg's pussy. The witch
cried out in ecstasy; Hansel growled like an animal, pounding deeply, roughly,
relishing the spasms of the woman before him.  
  
"Don't hold it, Hansel!" cried the witch, hair streaked across her sweaty
face. "Don't hold it back! Give it to me!"  
  
Hansel could only respond with the basest of grunts and moans, until, with a
body-shuddering lunge, he shoved his cock deep inside the witch, flooding her
womb with every drop of volcanic seed his body could produce.  
  
Alone in her chair, Gretel hung her head and cried softly.  
  
***  
  
"Up! Get up, Hansel! You're soiling my bed!"  
  
Hansel blinked his eyes open, feeling that he was emerging from a week's worth
of sleep. His surroundings came into focus slowly, painfully. A few moments
passed before he recognized the lavish trappings of Meg's bedroom, rather than
the dank accommodations of his cell.  
  
"Wh-what?" he muttered. His fogged query was answered by a sharp slap across
the face, which sent him sprawling across the bed and served to awaken him
fully.  
  
"I said, _up_!" screeched Meg angrily, clad once more in her silk robe.
"You've served your purpose! Back to the cages for the both of you!"  
  
Hansel leapt to his feet on the other side of the bed from the witch,
glowering upon her with clear eyes and head. "What'd'ya do t' me?" he cried.  
  
Meg planted her hands on her hips and laughed. "Was it good for you, too?" she
quipped. "I admit, you weren't bad. Better than my last virgin. It's almost
too bad there won't be a repeat performance."  
  
Hansel glanced quickly to his sister, who stood beside the door, arms wrapped
around herself. It took but a single look to determine that she was fine, all
things considered. And, more importantly, that she understood that Hansel had
not been himself throughout the coupling with the witch; she had enchanted him
in some way, obviously.  
  
"So what's it all'a 'bout?" Hansel asked, addressing Meg once more. "What's so
God damned important 'bout me bein' a virgin?"  
  
Meg ignored his question as she directed Hansel and Gretel through the door
from her bedroom. But, as they passed through the kitchen, the witch spoke
just as they reached the Purgatorial furnace.  
  
"I suppose it would not hurt to tell you, since there is nothing you can do
about it now."  
  
The twins turned to face the witch, wondering and expectant expressions
glowing upon their faces.  
  
"Every thirty-three years, I must find a male virgin," Meg explained smugly.
"I have but one year in which to find and copulate with what has proven to be
a progressively rare creature. That is the only way in which I can continue to
live."  
  
She stepped closer to Hansel, giving him an intent look. "My magic has insured
that you have given me a child, my dear man," she said. "A girl. She will
mature rapidly, growing to adulthood within a year. And when that happens, I
will transfer my soul to her body and continue on, as I have been, for
centuries."  
  
"What happens ta us?" asked Hansel.  
  
The witch chuckled. "Food," she said simply. "In order for my daughter to gain
the full benefits of the spell, she must consume her own father." Her
malevolent eyes drifted briefly to Gretel. "That she will be able to add her
aunt to the feast will be . . . delicious, in many ways."  
  
Gretel gasped fearfully, slapping her hands over her mouth. Strangely,
however, Hansel remained calm. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly with
the beginnings of a smile.  
  
Meg frowned, perturbed. "What are you smiling about?"  
  
"I was just wonderin'," he said. "Seems t' be all-important that ya have'ta
make it with a virgin for it all t' work."  
  
Meg's eyes narrowed. "Of course," she said. "The ritual depends upon—" She
stopped in mid-sentence, interrupted by a sharp, intense stabbing pain in her
abdomen. The witch doubled over, clutching her stomach. Grunts and whimpers of
pain fell from her lips.  
  
"What . . . what's hap—" she began, then winced harshly, features contorted in
agony. The beauty afforded by her magic wavered, revealing glimpses of her
twisted, monstrous reality. "There . . . there's something . . . wrong!"  
  
Hansel and Gretel both backed off, watching with fear and wonder as Meg
convulsed, stumbling about, choking, crying, gasping and grunting. She coughed
roughly, blood flying from her mouth. The illusion of beauty vanished
completely, revealing the crone in all her ogre-like atrocity.  
  
Gretel fell back against the cool stove beside the furnace, groping around
frantically for some kind of weapon. But the only thing within reach was a
large, floral-print oven mitt. Similarly, Hansel fumbled upon the cool metal
surface of the table behind him, taking up the only item he could use: a large
rolling pin.  
  
"What . . . did you . . . do!" howled Meg, bonfire eyes burning into first
Hansel, then Gretel as the hag whirled about, convulsing in barely-controlled
pain.  
  
But neither of the twins responded, at least not to the witch. Instead, their
eyes flashed quickly to one another's, exchanging a voiceless plan. And in
that moment, understanding the rapport between her two captives, Meg instantly
deduced the truth. Frantically, she looked back and forth between the twins,
mind clouded by shock.  
  
"You _couldn't_!" the witch screamed. "You _wouldn't_!"  
  
Hansel hefted the large rolling pin in his hands. "We did," he said simply,
then nodded toward his sister.  
  
Quickly, having donned the oven mitt, Gretel reached for the handle upon the
furnace-like oven, pulling with all her might. The load groaning of the door
compelled the witch to spin about, staring with fear upon the blazing fire
that was now fully revealed. "No!" she cried, wavering upon pain-inflamed
legs.  
  
"It's ya' own fault," hissed Hansel, lining up the rolling pin between the
witch's legs and thrusting home. The contoured handle plunged through the silk
of Meg's robe and deep inside her nether passage, eliciting a cry of surprise
and pain from the witch.  
  
"Ya wanted t' get fucked," growled Hansel, then shoved with all his might.
"Well, now ya fucked!"  
  
An ear-splitting howl of terror and pain shattered the air as Meg was hurled
into the furnace, tumbling face-first into the hellish flames within. Her
screams of agony were only slightly muted once Gretel shoved the door closed
on the furnace with a thunderous ring of metal upon metal. Sweating and
panting from her exertions, Gretel joined her brother, watching the kicking of
limbs through the grill, the smell of burning flesh. The screams and flailing
faded quickly enough.  
  
"Well . . ." panted Gretel. "'Guess it worked."  
  
Hansel turned to his sister and smiled. "Guess it did, huh?"  
  
Gretel looked around. "So, what we gonna do now? Go home? Back t' Mother?
Maybe . . . I mean, maybe we can get dad to come away with us somewheres—"  
  
Hansel shook his head. "Nah. That kind'a thing only happens in fairy tales."  
  
His sister nodded somberly. "Yeah. Guess you're right."  
  
"Well, 'spose we could . . ." he trailed off, looking about the kitchen.  
  
Gretel followed her brother's eyes, understanding what he meant. "But we don't
know nothin' 'bout runnin' no diner," she pointed out. "'Sides, won't people
wonder what happened'ta Meg?"  
  
Hansel thought a moment, staring through the grill of the oven at the burning
husk of the witch's corpse. "So we say we're under new management," he
suggested. "'Aunt Meg' passed th' place down'ta us."  
  
Gretel snorted mirthfully. "'Aunt Meg?'"  
  
Hansel grinned. "Sure. Why not?"  
  
**_Epilogue_**  
  
The gaudily-painted Cadillac rumbled to a stop in a space before the diner.
What had once read "_Haggie's Diner_" had been artfully changed to read "_the
H &amp; G Diner_," with a new legend painted beneath: "Under New Management."
The woman behind the wheel was attractively coifed, clad in the first new
dress she had owned in years.  
  
_Seems like a nice 'nuff place t' start my search for my new husband, _she
thought wryly_. Poor Lewis. Oh, well, he didn't suffer. In fact, I'm sure he's
smilin' right now, knowin' that his life insurance has made life much more
interestin' and comfortable for his bereaved widow . . . ._  
  
She took a table along the wall in the half-full diner, and a pretty young
blonde girl appeared to take her order. The woman didn't like the blonde girl
at all; she was pretty and busty and, more importantly, young. Three
advantages the woman herself lacked, of which she was reminded again and again
as the many single men in the diner paid attention to the flirtatious girl and
none at all to the matron sitting by herself. By the time she was finished
with her meal, she had decided she was not going to tip the bubbly, buxom
teen.  
  
"Getting' near ta closin' time, fellas," the blonde announced as she made the
rounds of the diner, dropping off checks and picking up dirty plates.  
  
The few men who lingered, who had been leering and occasionally groping the
blonde, all groaned in unison. "Ya mean I gotta go home t' th' wife, after
getting' my eyes full'a you?" one man lamented.  
  
Another winked at the tittering teen. "Well, hey, why don't we all grab some
beers, Billie?"  
  
"Can't tonight," Billie said with an apologetic smile. "Got my monthly date
with Sheriff Fred, ya know."  
  
The man sighed and groaned again, nodding in understanding. "Well, there's
always tomorrow," one said.  
  
The matron in the corner huffed in disgust. _Little whore, _she thought
acidly_. Hmm. A tryst with th' sheriff, huh? Willin' ta bet that sheriff's
married, and his wife sure wouldn't like t' know that hubby's steppin' out
with some busty bimbo from a hack diner . . . ._  
  
The woman dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, then rummaged through her new
purse for lipstick. She was vaguely aware of someone standing at the end of
her table, so she was not startled when the young man spoke.  
  
"How was your meal tonight, ma'am?"  
  
"Fine," she said through clenched teeth, not looking up. "The service could'a
been better."  
  
"Oh? That ain't like Billie. She's been a real Godsend these past few months,
since me an' my sister, here, took over th' place."  
  
The woman frowned as she was applying lipstick. _Somethin' 'bout that voice .
. . ._ She snapped closed her compact, and with her heartbeat steadily
accelerating, lifted her eyes.  
  
"Hansel," she breathed in surprise, looking upon her son, clad in a stained
chef's apron. Her eyes drifted past him to his sister. "Gretel. Wh-what--?"  
  
"Good t' see ya again, too, Mother," Gretel said with a smile. "Did ya enjoy
th' pie?"  
  
Mother blinked, lips working as she tried to speak. "Th' . . . th—"  
  
"Th' _pie_," Hansel said emphatically. "We made it special, just for ya." The
smile he wore was identical to his sisters: conspiratorially sinister.  
  
The twins' mother swallowed nervously, looking at the crust from the slice of
pecan pie which had rounded out her meal. She had thought, when the bubbly
waitress brought it over with the comment that it was on the house, that the
girl had merely been trying to work up her non-existent tip. But now she knew
the truth.  
  
"See, th' layd that used'ta own this place," continued Hansel. "She left
behind lots'a interestin' books. Gretel and me, we been doin' a lot'a
readin'."  
  
Mother took a deep breath, forcing out a smile. "Well, see, I knew ya two was
gonna be just fine, now didn't I?" she said. "I just knew it."  
  
Hansel's smile was stone. "I'm sure ya did," he responded. "Just so ya know,
then, Gretel and me's doin' pretty well. Got us a good business here. Ya be
sure t' come back 'n see us again some time."  

Mother rose from the bench, unsure of why she felt a touch of intimidation. It
was the way her children were smiling, as if they knew something she did not.
That idea alone was enough to make her nervous. Then there was the mention of
the pie . . . .  
  
"I just might do that," Mother said, backing toward the door. "But, it, uh,
looks like ya'll're closin' . . . ."  
  
"Good night, Mother," the twins said together, watching the woman leave.  
  
"Think we should'a told her?" Gretel asked her brother.  
  
Hansel smirked. "Nah. I got a feeling she'll find out right soon enough what
the Potion o' th' Ugly Heart does."  
  
Gretel chuckled. "Too bad it's permanent, huh?"  
  
"Yep. Too bad."  
  
***  
  
Outside in the parking lot, Mother leaned against the Cadillac, catching her
breath. Although she could not rid her mind of the thought that her
disenfranchised children had done something to her food -- _most likely spiked
it with a laxative or somethin'_ \-- the fact that she was away from them gave
her some relief.  
  
_Well, good for them, _she thought_. But I definitely ain't never comin' back
t' this place._  
  
Behind her, she heard one of the men from inside the diner clearing his
throat. Mother perked at the sound. _Hmm. Perhaps this won't be a total loss
after all_, she thought and turned about, mustering her best seductive smile.  
  
"'Scuse me an' all, ma'am," began the stocky man as he stood beside his Ford
pickup. "But I was wonderin' if ya -- oh! Lordy Jesus!" he exclaimed, face
twisted in an expression of disgust. He fumbled with his keys, running around
to the driver's side of the truck. Mother heard him make retching noises
before he managed to jerk open the door. Tires screeched upon gravel, making
the woman shield her face from flying debris as the truck sped away.  
  
"Well!" she sputtered. "That was just rude!" No, I definitely ain't comin'
back this way.  
  
Then she turned and caught her own reflection in the darkened windows of the
now-closed diner.  
  
And screamed in terror upon beholding the most hideous, disgusting vision of
ugliness she would ever witness. It was a scream so cacophonous that windows
rattled and small animals fled. A scream that only ended when the world's
ugliest woman finally surrendered to horror-born unconsciousness.  
  
Within the diner, the twins shared a triumphant look as they gazed out through
the windows. "Ya know, that felt better'n I thought it would," Hansel said.  
  
Gretel inhaled deeply, then let it out. "Guess it was only right an' just that
Mother'd come see us sooner or later," she said. She touched her brother's
arm. "Time for bed?"  
  
Hansel smiled, taking Gretel's hand. "Time for the rest of our life t' start,"
he said.  
  
Hand in hand, the twins turned and headed back through the diner, ultimately
to their rooms beyond the kitchen. Their hearts felt lighter and their future
more clear. Only time would tell what would befall Hansel and Gretel. But one
thing was for certain . . . .  
  
_They lived happily ever after._




End file.

