Curvy Ever After: Forbidden Curvy Girl Fairy Tales
Read Curvy Ever After: Forbidden Curvy Girl Fairy Tales Online
Authors: Twyla Turner
Curvy Ever After:
Forbidden Curvy Girl Fairy Tales
By Twyla Turner
©Copyright by Twyla Turner
Cover by:
Taria Reed Digital Artist
Models: Kevin Saldutti & Sharifa Edwards
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Title Images from
https://us.fotolia.com/
Image credits:
© Orlando Florin Rosu
© James Thew
© Kudryashka
© reznik_val
© okalinichenko
© Black Spring
© Elena Baryshkina
To:
All the little girls that have grown up and became complete freaks! ;)
Three Wishes
- Jazz & Apollo
Red
– Red & Elan
Ashes
- Ashland & Charlie
Bonita
- Bo & Roc
Slumber
– Ro & Flip
Yuki Shiro
- Yuki & Cade
Wanderlust
- Aliyah & Shayne
These seven stories were a pleasure to write. And a nice break from the dark subject matter in the Damaged Souls Series. They are loosely based off of the classic tales we grew up reading and watching from
Disney
and
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
. Their retelling coming straight from my naughty little mind. I wanted the heroines to better reflect the lovely curves of women around the world. And this cast of characters are just about as diverse as they come…a little something for everyone. Enjoy!
Arabia 1244 A.D.
Jazz sighed deeply as she lounged on pillows and cushions made of Moroccan silks in bright and bold colors. She was currently listening to another of her father’s tirades. Though, truth be told she was listening with only half an ear. They’d had this argument previously, several times in fact, so she’d heard it all before.
“And furthermore, you are the princess and
I
am the Sultan. You don’t make the rules and you certainly do not disobey
me
!” Her father bellowed. “You
will
marry and to whomever
I
decide.”
“But don’t you care about my happiness, even a little bit?” Jazz asked. “I don’t want to be some man’s second or third wife. Why is it that men get all the spoils and women have to take it? To share like rabid dogs? I won’t do it!” Jazz scowled and crossed her arms over her ample breasts.
“I’m done with you! You won’t listen to reason.” Her father huffed as he strode towards the door. He stopped then, and turned back, giving her a final warning. “You will marry. And it will be someone of my choosing. Otherwise, you’ll give me no choice but to have you whipped.” And with that, the Sultan disappeared through the double doors of her elaborate white marble chambers, in a whirl of the finest silks.
Jazz stared at the door in shock. Her father had never threatened to lay a hand on her. She knew she must have pushed him too far. In her anger and frustration, Jazz threw some of her pillows. The soft thump of the pillows didn’t satisfy her need to break something. Finally, one collided with an elegant vase, shattering it into a million pieces. The sound only eased her frustrations marginally.
The princess knew she was running out of options and time. She didn’t want to be a wife to some stranger she didn’t love. Plus, she was already under her father’s thumb, only to be immediately put under someone else’s. Someone who may be cruel. Jazz didn’t know why she couldn’t choose who she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
She hadn’t even seen another man, aside from her father. At least not that she could recall. When she was young she had been guarded by eunuchs. Though as she got older and prettier, even her father didn’t trust the castrated men not to fall in love with her. So now she was guarded outside her chambers, but the guards were not allowed to look at her or step foot through the doorway. So only females were sent to attend to Jazz’s needs.
It was like she was a prisoner in her own home. Next, she’ll be a prisoner in someone else’s palace. Jazz was so sick of the power men had over her, yet she hadn’t even met any.
Jazz got up and slowly padded out onto her private terrace. Each of her steps felt weighted down with despair. The princess had no idea of her appeal, having been shelter all her life. Her generous hips swayed seductively. A hint of her solid thighs and the bare V between her legs, shown through the sheer fabric of her billowy fuchsia pants. Her butterscotch midriff was soft and exposed. Her full lush breasts were bound with matching fuchsia silk. The material wound around her back crossed over each breast and tied behind her neck.
Her beautiful ebony hair and stunning face remained uncovered since she never left her designated rooms. Jazz’s hair was straight and thick, the ends resting at her tailbone. Only a gold chain with a pink jewel resting on her forehead, adorned her hair. Her face was heart-shaped with high cheekbones. A long, proud straight nose. Her mouth was wide and lips decadently full. And her amber colored eyes, under thick perfectly arched brows, were huge and round with a dense fringe of long black lashes.
Jazz’s father wasn’t a stupid man. He knew how gorgeous his voluptuous daughter was. So he kept her under lock and key. At least until it was time to pass her off to a husband that would then have to deal with her stubbornness and sharp tongue.
Jazz collapsed on a chaise lounge on the terrace. She tried to calm her emotions as the setting Arabian sun warmed her golden skin. Tears slipped down her face as she realized that she had finally lost the battle of wills for her freedom.
“It’s hopeless.”
~~~
Jazz unknowingly found the key to her freedom a week later. The Sultan swept into her chambers one afternoon, holding an ornate chest in his arms and smiling broadly. Jazz watched him walk towards her warily. His excitement never did bode well for her.
“Jazz, I have a gift for you. It’s a chest of ancient treasures from your future husband, Ali Abdul.” The Sultan said proudly as he sat the heavy chest down before her.
“What?!” Jazz exclaimed in a panic.
“I have arranged your marriage to the sultan of Baghdad. It’s a good match.” He informed her.
“For me or for the both of you?” Jazz asked resentfully.
“For us all, Jazz. And you will not defy me in this.” The Sultan said firmly, brooking no arguments. “You will be married in a sennight.”
“I hate you!” Jazz ground out.
“Hate me if you must, but you will marry him.” The Sultan turned on his heel and left the room without a backwards glance.
Jazz picked up the heavy chest and with the strength born purely of rage, she launched it across the room. The chest exploded against the door that her father had just exited. The contents inside flew across the room in every direction. Jazz knew her father heard the loud bang but he obviously didn’t care because he didn’t come back.
The princess knew it was over, her fate had finally been decided for her. Jazz flung herself across her bed and sobbed uncontrollably. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.
A couple hours later, Jazz awoke from a fitful sleep. She sat up in her bed and looked out through the double doors of her terrace to the evening sky, gauging how much time had passed. She sluggishly pulled herself out of bed. Jazz tried her best not to let the darkness of despair drown her. Though it was getting harder with each minute that passed that brought her closer to a marriage she didn’t want.
She surveyed the mess she had made earlier that afternoon. She decided to clean up the chaos she’d created, needing something to occupy her mind. Jazz had to admit the jewels that were scattered around her room were beautiful. Necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and headpieces in an array of colors, had been in the elaborate wooden chest.
Jazz crawled around on hands and knees, pulling the box along with her as she gathered up the jewels. When she was finished, she hefted the heavy chest up and gave the room a onceover to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Jazz’s eyes landed on what looked like a gold teapot that had slid under one of her tables that were adorned fragrant flowers.
She walked over and picked up the pot. Jazz turned the golden teapot this way and that, inspecting it. She lifted the lid but she didn’t see anything inside. She looked closer and on the side it looked like there was writing. Jazz rubbed her hand across it, trying to polish the gold to see if she could read the lettering better.
Suddenly the pot started to vibrate in her hands and Jazz dropped it quickly in fear. She watched as a white mist started to waft out of the spout. The vapor became thicker and before her eyes, Jazz watched as it formed into a man. A man that she assumed had to be the most beautiful man alive, since she had never seen one besides her father.
He stood quite a few inches over six feet. His body was massive, muscles bulging everywhere. Intricate tattoos accented the rises and valleys of his muscular frame. He wore only a pair of cerulean blue billowy pants with a thick waistband wrapped around his solid torso and wide gold bands around his wrists. His skin was a creamy brown. The man’s wavy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A dark beard ended in a point under his chin. His hazel eyes were lined with kohl, making them even more soul-piercing. Jazz was in awe.
“I am the Genie of the lamp and I am here to serve you. You may make any three wishes you’d like, mistress. And they will be granted forthwith.” A deep seductive voice boomed from the giant man.
“Genie? Three wishes?” Jazz asked in disbelief.
“Yes, mistress. Genies can grant wishes to their owners. You only get three and you cannot wish for more wishes. So, chose wisely. Once your wishes have been granted, our time together will be done and I go to my next master.” The man explained.
“And I can wish for anything that I want?” Jazz asked, excitement starting to surge through her blood.
Freedom!
She thought.
“Yes, mistress.” The man bowed.
“Oh Allah, this is a big decision. I must think for a moment.” Jazz said in a daze.
“As you wish,” he bowed again.
Jazz turned her head to the side, looking at him thoughtfully. He stirred something in her that she had never experienced before. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was the only man besides her father that she had been in the presence of. Or if it was because of the man himself. Jazz was also curious about how he came to be.
“Do you have a real name, Genie?” She asked.
“Yes, mistress. My name is Apollo.” He answered with hesitation.
“Apollo.” Jazz tested the name on her lips and tongue and found it pleasing. “The name suits you.”
“Thank you, mistress.” Apollo bowed slightly.
“You don’t have to call me mistress. Please call me Jazz.” She requested.
“Yes, Jazz.” Apollo’s voice rumbled deeply in his chest. The vibrations of her name on his tongue sent tingles to her most intimate places.
“Sit with me, Apollo. I need to think some more on what three wishes I want.” Jazz gestured over to her elaborate sitting area. The large man followed her over to the bright cushions sunken down in the floor in a circle of colors.
Jazz eyed him across from her as he sat cross-legged, gazing at her patiently.
“Tell me Apollo, were you always a genie?” Jazz asked curiously.
“No, Jazz.” He answered briefly.
“Where are you from?”
“Egypt.”
“What did you do before you became a genie?”
“I was a palace guard.”
“So why did you choose to become a genie?”
“It was not a choice.” He answered honestly.
“What happened?” Jazz sat up straighter.
Is it possible that I’m not the only prisoner in the room?
“Being a genie is a curse. A prison sentence.” For the first time, Jazz saw a flicker of emotion pass behind his eyes. She wasn’t sure but it looked like anger or anguish.
“Go on.” Jazz coaxed.
“I was a palace guard to the queen. She found me attractive and pleasing to the eye, so she seduced me and took me as her lover. Even though I knew the consequences, she was a beautiful woman and hard to resist.” Apollo stared off into space, obviously remembering the past. “The Pharaoh found out and my punishment was to spend a lifetime alone or in servitude whenever the lamp was found. Death would’ve been preferable.”
“Oh my!” Jazz said in shock. “How long have you been a genie?”
“Centuries.” Apollo said sadly.
“Allah, help you! Do you know of any way to be set free?” Jazz asked.
“It’s okay, mistress. I mean, Jazz. Don’t fret, I’ll be fine.” Apollo brushed off her question.
“No, tell me.” Jazz pleaded.
“Well, I have to be wished free. But most people want to use their three wishes on themselves, not to release some lowly genie.” Apollo said sadly.
“I will.” Jazz looked up at him from under her long lashes.
“You don’t have to do that, Jazz. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Apollo refused the help.
“But I want to. I know what it’s like to be trapped in a prison of someone else’s making. I would see you free.” Jazz said with a final nod of her head. “I’ll ask for my two wishes first, then I’ll set you free with my last wish.”
“As you wish.” Apollo said, his voice trying to remain calm. Though she heard the hopeful quiver.
The weight of his golden green stare made Jazz’s heart pound. Her nipples hardened to little pebbles and her quim felt heavy with arousal. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as an idea for her first wish came to mind.
“Tell me, Apollo. Can you still be with a woman? Lie with her, I mean?” Jazz asked innocently. The relations between a man and woman had never been explained to the princess, but she had overheard her servants and maids discussing men. From the snippets she had gleaned, she still didn’t understand the ways of love. Though she was desperate to learn before she decided on her second wish.
“No, I cannot. Not unless you wish it.” Apollo told her.
Her decision made, Jazz sat up straighter with her chin raised high. “Then I have decided. Genie, my first wish is for you to be my lover, to take my virginity.”
“As you wish.”
~~~
Apollo watched as Jazz moved to stand in the middle of the bright cushion, awaiting his next move. It had been a least a century or two since he’d made love. More often than not, he was summoned by a man. He had figured that it was part and parcel to his curse. That was until he came across this beautiful and generous young woman.