A/N: What am I doing? I don't know. If you know then you must be like God or something. Because I SHOULD be updating TCTTA but I'm not. Because I suck. I accept this fact with open arms, my friend, with open arms. And didn't I say that I WASN'T going to do another story until YTLD was finished? Yes, I did. But I can't keep promises. Anyways, this isn't really a story per se it's just...what is this shit? Oh. It's a fairytale that I have warped to make slashified. Yes. Slashified. I'll post these stories sporadicaly (like I post everything else) and some of them MIGHT be mine some might not. I'll give you the heads up if they are mine. And if you're waiting for a TCTTA update it probably won't be this week. Extended family's over.

Vasilissa The Beautiful

A Russian Fairy Tale Ruined By Me

Chapter Warnings: Non-con weird kinky sex, eh... shota (main character's 14), crossdressing, cannibalism, creepy dolls, morbidity, etc.

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In a certain Czardom, across three times nine kingdoms, beyond high mountain chains, there once lived a reasonably well off tailor. He had been married for twelve years, but in that time only one son had been born to him. A son so beautiful, so effeminate, that he was constantly mistaken for a little girl. A little girl with locks of dark curls, a fiery dark brown in the sunlight, feral catlike eyes that glimmered hazel in the candlelight and facial features that looked all too feminine; with his cherublike face and plump pink lips.

When the little boy was eight years old, his mother fell ill, and before many days it was plain to be seen that she must die. So she called her precious son to her and took a tiny wooden doll from under the blanket of the bed. Little Vasilii had always loved dolls. The other mothers of the village frowned upon this. A little boy playing with...dolls? That was unheard of! But his dear mother would simply smile at the little boy and buy him what he wished. And he would play with the dolls for hours and hours on end. Eventually, he would grow tired of them and discard them in a pile next to his bed and ask his mother for another and another. And his mother would smile once more and submit to his frequent wishes.

She put the doll into his hands and said:

"My little Vasilii, my beautiful boy, listen to what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes. I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and drink a little and then tell it thy trouble and ask its advice, and it will tell thee how to act in time of need." So saying this, she kissed her little boy on the forehead, blessed him, and shortly after died.

Little Vasilii sobbed uncontrollably next to her bed, clutching the doll in his tiny hands and resting his head on her cold shoulder. He thought that life couldn't get possibly any worse, but it did.

After a few days of mourning, Vasilii's father decided that he could not raise a child alone. He could not do it without a wife and he was certainly not going to re-marry any time soon. He decided that he would have to put him up for adoption. So with a heavy heart and guilty mind he took little Vasilii to the nearest orphanage. Vasilii's father hugged his son awkwardly, ruffled his hair a bit, smiling sheepishly all the while and left him infront of the orphanage. Vasilii stood there on the steps, with his doll in one hand and suitcase in the other, not fully understanding what was happening. But when the Nun opened the door and ushered him inside he understood.

His father would not be coming back.

The years went by and Vasilii grew more feminine by the day it seemed. The Nuns decided that no would adopt such a effeminate boy and decided to dress him up like a girl. They dressed him in absurd amounts of clothing, all rags of course, padding certain areas and hiding other areas until you really couldn't tell that he was a boy. The thought would be the furthest thing from your mind. They started calling him Vasilissa.

When Vasilii or rather Vasilissa was twelve a wealthy merchant decided to adopt him. In all honesty, Vasilii did not want to go. He was happy at the orphanage. He had friends. He wasn't craving for a family or love and affection. He just wanted to stay in his dusty bed, in his dusty sheets, in his dusty rags, and talk to his dusty friends. The matter could not be avoided, though, he was going to live with the merchant and that was that. So brushing his dark curls, grabbing his doll that his mother gave him many, many years ago and smoothing his dusty skirt covered in holes down, he walked out the door to meet the merchant. His shoulders back, padded chest raised, and nose turned up. The way a true lady walks.

The merchant was very kind to Vasilii, in the few months that he spent with him. He showered him with gifts, dresses, jewels, etc. But the problems started when the merchant's wife came back from her summer trip to the countryside with her two daughters. The merchant had told Vasilii that his wife was a kind-hearted, noble-woman with her head in all the right places. It seemed, though, that the reality was nothing like what the merchant had described.

The merchant's wife was a cold, cruel woman. A woman who had, obviously, only married the merchant for his wealth and could care less about some 'stray that he pulled off the street like a wet cat from an alley' as she put it. Vasilii was the greatest beauty in the whole village, while still being a man in disguise. The merchant's daughters were as gorgeous as a warty toad dipped in a fungus oozing puss, and because of all this all three envied and hated Vasilii with a fiery passion.

They gave him all sorts of errands to run and difficult tasks to perform, hoping that the strenuous work might make him thin and worn and that his face might grow brown from sun and wind. They treated him so cruelly as to leave few joys in life for him. But all this, little Vasilii endured without complaint, and while the stepmother's two daughters grew always thinner and uglier, in spite of the fact that they had no hard tasks to do, never went out in cold or rain, and sat always with their arms folded like ladies of a Court, he himself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful. Vasilii never once mentioned his true gender for fear of making matters worse.

But life was harsh and he needed guidance, the work that they demanded was always too much for him to finish. So each night, when everyone else was sound asleep, he would get up from his bed, take the doll into a closet, and locking the door, give it something to eat and drink, and say: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little, and listen to my grief. I live in a new house, far from the safety of the orphanage but my new mother wishes to drive me out and ban me to the Underworld. Tell me! How shall I act, and what shall I do?"

Then the little doll's eyes would begin to shine like worms in the moonlight and it would become alive. It would eat a little food, and sip a little drink, and then it would comfort her and tell her how to act. While Vasilii slept, it would get ready all his work for the next day, so that he had only to rest in the shade and gather flowers, for the doll would have the kitchen garden weeded, and the beds of cabbage watered, and plenty of fresh water brought from the well, and the stoves heated exactly right. So all the joy in life that came to Vasilii came to him through the tiny doll that he always carried in his pocket.

Two years passed and Vasilii grew up and became an age when it is good to marry. All the young men in the village asked for his hand wether rich or poor, high and low, not even having the slightest doubt in their mind that she was infact a boy. Not one of them stopped to look at the merchant's daughters. The merchant's wife grew angrier and angrier at little Vasilii; she answered every man, who came to the door with hope in his heart and stars in his eyes, with: "Never shall the younger be wed before the older ones!" and each time, when she had let a suitor out of the door, she would soothe her anger and hatred by beating Vasilii. On occasion, the suitors would catch Vasilii alone, usually in the stables or the garden and pursue their quest to marry him. Vasilii would blush and cast his eyes at the floor, knowing that even if he did run away with one of them they would find out he was a boy and beat him worse than his stepmother. So while Vasilii grew each day more feminine, lovely and graceful, he was often miserable, and but for the little doll in his pocket, would have longed to leave the world.

The merchant had to leave home and travel to a distant Czardom. Vasilii was deeply saddened by this. Although, the merchant was practically oblivious to his wife's cruel ways he was somewhat of a protection for Vasilii. The merchant bade farewell to his wife and his two daughter, he kissed Vasilii on his forehead and told him to be good and departed too quickly for Vasilii's liking. Practically a second later, the merchant's wife sold the house, packed all the goods, and moved with them to another house far from town, in a gloomy area on the edge of a wild forest. Here every day, while her two daughters were working indoors, the merchant's wife would send Vasilii on one errand or other into the forest, either to find a branch of a certain rare bush or to bring her flowers or berries.

Now deep in this forest, as the merchant's wife well knew, there was a green lawn and on the lawn stood a miserable little hut on chicken's legs, where lived a certain Baba Yaga, an old witch grandmother. She lived alone and none dared go near the hut, for she ate people as one eats chickens. The merchant's wife sent Vasilii into the forest each day, hoping she might meet the old witch and be devoured; but always the girl came home safe and sound, because the little doll showed her where the bush, the flowers and the berries grew, and did not let her go near the hut that stood on chicken's legs. And each time the stepmother hated her more and more because she came to no harm.

One evening the merchant's wife called the three girls to her and gave them each a task. One of her daughters she told to make a piece of lace, the other to knit a pair of hose, and to Vasilii she gave a basket of flax to be spun. She told each to finish a certain amount. Then she put out all the fires in the house, leaving only a single candle lighted in the room where the three girls worked, and she herself went to sleep.

They worked an hour, they worked two hours, they worked three hours, when one of the elder daughters took up the tongs to straighten the wick of the candle. She pretended to do this awkwardly (as her mother had bidden her) and put the candle out, as if by accident.

"What are we to do now?" asked her sister. "The fires are all out, there is no other light in all the house, and our tasks are not done."

"We must go and fetch fire," said the first. "The only house near is a hut in the forest, where a Baba Yaga lives. One of us must go and borrow fire from her."

"I have enough light from my steel pins," said the one who was making the lace, "and I will not go."

"And I have plenty of light from my silver needles," said the other, who was knitting the hose, "and I will not go."

"Vasilissa," they both said, "shall go and fetch the fire, for she has neither steel pins nor silver needles and cannot see to spin the flax!" They both rose up, pushed Vasilii out of the house and locked the door, shouting:

"You shall not come in until thou has fetched the fire!"

Vasilii sat down on the doorstep, took the tiny doll from one pocket and from another the supper he had ready for it, put the food before it and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little and listen to my sorrow. I must go to the hut of the old Baba Yaga in the dark forest to borrow some fire and I fear she will eat me. Tell me! What shall I do?"

Then the doll's eyes began to shine like two stars and it became alive. It ate a little and said: "Do not fear, little Vasilii. Go where thou hast been sent. While I am with thee no harm shall come to thee from the old witch." So Vasilii put the doll back into his pocket, made the sign of the cross and started out into the dark, wild forest.

The woods were very dark, and he could not help trembling from fear everytime he heard something move or fly away. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past him. He was dressed all in white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and just as he passed him it became twilight.

He went a little further and again he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and there came another man on horseback galloping past her. He was dressed all in red, and the horse under him was blood-red and its harness was red, and just as he passed her the sun rose.

That whole day Vasilii walked, for he had lost her way. He could find no path at all in the dark wood and he had no food to set before the little doll to make it alive.

But at evening he came all at once to the green lawn where the wretched little hut stood on its chicken legs. The wall around the hut was made of human bones and on its top were skulls. There was a gate in the wall, whose hinges were the bones of human feet and whose locks were jaw-bones set with sharp teeth. The sight filled Vasilii with horror and he stopped as still as a post buried in the ground.

As he stood there a third man on horseback came galloping up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night came and the forest grew dark.

The woods became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches began to creak and the dry leaves began to rustle, and a young man dressed in blue robes strolled casually over to the frightened boy.

"Are you...are you the Baba Yaga?" The boy asked, his small voice overflowing with his Russian accent.

"Do I look like the Baba Yaga?" The man asked with a calm attitude to his voice that Vasilii had never witnessed before. He looked the man over, the skulls on the wall lit up with a simple candle inside, helped him see. The man was tall and dressed in extravagant dark blue robes with long black hair spilling over his shoulders. His head was dripping with jewels, chains and a crown tilted to the side, chains hanging off it and into his face. A emerald pendant falling casually inbetween his slanted eyes that seemed forever as slits with some sort of black makeup surrounding them. Making his unsual green eyes stand out, his eyes were definently inhuman. The man's lips were in a thin line, obviously waiting for an answer. The man looked...regal. Definently not a Baba Yaga. If what the stories were true about Baba Yagas being old, wrinkled ladies that cackle and fly around on brooms.

"I-I've never seen a Baba Yaga." The boy answered honestly.

"Fair enough." The man agreed with a nod of his head. "What do you want, child?"

"My stepmother's daughters sent me here to borrow some fire."

The man's eyebrow rose. "The merchant's daughters?"

"Yes." Vasilii nodded.

"Well," said the young man, "I know them. But if I give you the fire you shall stay with me and do some work to pay for it. If not," The man's lips turned up a bit at the corners, "I'll eat you for dinner."

Then he turned to the gate and shouted: "Ho! My solid locks, unlock! My stout gate, open!" Instantly the locks unlocked, the gate opened of itself, and the man strolled in as casual as ever. Vasilii entered behind him and immediately the gate shut again and the locks snapped tight. When they entered into the hut the young man plopped down onto the only chair in the hut. There was only a bed, table, kitchen, and a red chair.

"What is your name, child?" He asked.

"Vasilissa but..."

"Wonderful. I'm Avel. Fetch me some wine." The man snapped his fingers and took off his crown, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He cradled his head in his hands, his chains and jewels dangling forward a bit.

The boy started looking frantically at the cupboards, not sure which one it was in. "The cupboard infront of you. Mugs in the next." Avel said, not looking up from his hands.

The boy poured the red wine into the mug and held it infront of the man. The man drowned the wine in less than a second and slammed it on the counter, he said: "Tomorrow when I leave, clean the yard, sweep the floors, and cook my supper. Then take a quarter of a measure of wheat from my store house and pick out of it all the black grains and the wild peas. If you are not done by the time I get back I will..." The man looked up and smirked once again. "...punish you. And it will not be pleasant."

"Now good night." Avel said and stalked over to the bed, plopping down and sprawling out over it, his face turned to the wall. Vasilii began to hear the man snore and he sat in a corner, quietly crying to himself. With no food to feed his doll how was he going to ask for help?

When he woke next morning, very early, it was still dark. He rose and looked out of the window, and he saw that the eyes of the skulls on the wall were growing dim. As he looked, the man dressed all in white, riding the milk-white horse, galloped swiftly around the corner of the hut, leaped the wall and disappeared, and as he went, it became quite light and the eyes of the skulls flickered and went out. The young man was in the yard, dressed in purple robes this time and mounting a mean-looking horse. As he was mounting the horse, a man dressed all in red who was on a blood-red horse, galloped like the wind around the corner of the hut, leaped over the wall and was gone, then the sun rose. Avel, on the black horse shouted: "Ho! My solid locks, unlock! My stout gate, open!" and the locks unlocked and the gates opened and he galloped away almost as fast as the man dressed in red.

Vasilii examined the hut and then examined the yard, deciding what to do first. He decided on sweeping the hut and then doing the yard. When, the young man got back Vasilii had barely started dinner. Vasilii began to panick. His hands were all over the pot trying to do...something, anything. He didn't know what but he was trying to do it. And failing. The door swung open and the young man dressed in purple strolled in, casually. Vasilii began to cry.

"I see you haven't finished your chores." Avel stated. Vasilii nodded, tears seeping down his cheeks.

"Get on the bed." He ordered and Vasilii just stood there, crying his heart out.

"Get on the bed!" Avel shouted and Vasilii ran to the bed, almost tripping over his skirt.

"On your back." Avel ordered, taking off his crown and his robes. Avel crawled over Vasilii when he was completely naked, he smirked down at him. Vasilii whimpered and kept sobbing pathetically.

"I-I...I'm not a girl..." He confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as Avel slid a hand up his leg.

"I know." Avel said huskily and began to bunch up Vasilii's skirt while tearing away the mounds of clothing he had on. His tiny trousers, the wraps, etc. Until his prize was successfully unwrapped, popping free from the sea of cloth. Avel ran the pad of his finger over the head and Vasilii gasped. He stopped crying and his nails dug into the matress as products of reflex.

Avel kept stroking the head with his soft fingertips resulting in Vasilii groaning again and again, arching his hips up into Avel's soft touch. Around the fourth gasp, Avel leaned in a bit, forcing two of his fingers down Vasilii's throat. He gagged and then tried to suck, resulting in some more gagging and then Avel stroked that spot again and Vasilii choked around the fingers, spit dribbling down his cheek.

Avel withdrew his fingers and Vasilii gasp and hoked when he felt his fingertips tease his slit once more. He heard a jar being opened and then two fingers with his cold saliva was rammed between his cheeks and he arched and shouted. Avel was mercilessly finger-fucking his tight passage and all Vasilii could do was raise his tiny hips and thrash around. He was moving them around, trying different angles and it hurt but fuck. He felt like he was losing his mind.

This continued for what seemed like hours to the cherublike brunette but then, out of nowhere, the fingers were yanked out of his virgin hole and replaced with something much bigger and thicker. Avel grasped his hips through his skirt and started to push in a bit more. Vaselii was hugging his knees to his chest, they were brushing against Avel's naked chest. And seemed to burn a bit when Avel's thrusts turned harsh and wanton. He was fucking him with wild abandon and Vaselii couldn't help but squeal when he rammed against his prostate. His nails making holes into the matress and his hips had bruises.

Avel's chains and necklaces were brushing against Vaselii's neck, some slapped against his chin and he winced and then shuddered with pleasure when Avel ruthlessly started ramming against that spot. Vaselii started to see black dots cloud his vision. It hurt like hell but then it also felt like heaven. A conundrum indeed. Avel forced his hand inbetween Vaselii's thighs or under it...somehow and started to stroke his cock to the rhythm of his thrusts. Vaselii screamed when Avel started yanking at his cock, feeling like his orgasm was being pulled from his stomach. The knot there continued to coil and it felt like he could erupt any second. Avel smelled like incense and sin.

Somehow, his hand was in Avel's mouth and Avel was sucking at his fingers, painfully so. Avel bit down on three of his fingers and then Vaselii came, roaring while doing so. Avel continued thrusting into Vaselii while sucking the skin off his fingers. Vaselii didn't stop screaming after his orgasm. Avel continued to bite down, more and more, breaking the bones it seemed and then his teeth stopped with the hand and moved onto the wrist, chewing and scraping and sucking the meat from his hand.

Vaselii's lungs were on fire. He couldn't stop screaming. Avel was working his way up the arm now, still thrusting at the same pace. When he successfully took off all the skin and human meat from the hand to the elbow he came. He shouted as he did so, blood smeared all over mouth, dripping down his chin and neck. After he came, he didn't stop thrusting. Nor did Vaselii strop screaming as Avel continued eating away at his arm rather violently. His teeth ripping up the skin and gnawing it's way to the bone. From his hand to his elbow it was just bone, some broken bones but absolutely no blood.

When Avel got to the shoulder, he was finished. His teeth let go of Vaselii's arm and he grinned down at his work, attempting to lick the blood from his mouth. Vaselii was still screaming and screaming, obviously in a ridiculous amount of pain. From his shoulder to his hand it was just bone. No blood or anything. Just bone. Avel pulled Vaselii's boney arm off. It crackled and made a sick ripping sound and then he tossed it to the floor. He did something...something magical to make his shoulder not bleed or his arm.

Vaselii didn't stop screaming.

Avel pulled out of Vaselii, turned around and slept through the screams.

The next morning when Vaselii woke up, Avel was putting on his robes and trousers. They were green this time. "Today do what I told you to do yesterday, and besides these tasks take from my storehouse a half-measure of poppy seeds and clean them one by one. Someone has mixed earth with them to do me a mischief and to anger me, and I will have them made perfectly clean."

Vaselii sobbed into the pillow and nodded meekly. Avel patted Vaselii's head and he flinched. In a matter of seconds Avel was gone and Vaselii sat up, cradling where his left arm should be. He desperately wanted to ask his doll for help but, alas, he had no food. Only wine. And then a thought clicked in his head and he ran over to the cupboard where he had gotten the red wine the first time he came. He tried to give the doll some wine and he waited, hoping that just the wine would awaken it. It didn't work.

Vaselii felt to his knees and cried and cried. He didn't know what to do. How could he do everything he was asked of without an arm when he couldn't even do one with an arm? When Avel got back Vaselii, once again, was not finished with his work.

He was clutching onto Avel's shoulders with one hand, his legs wrapped around Avel's waist as Avel continued to ram into him over and over and over again. His cock was rubbing against Avel's chest and tears were cascasing down his cheeks and yet he was helping Avel fuck him, forcing himself onto Avel's cock when Avel thrusts out and pushing his hips up when Avel thrusts in. And the scariest part about it was that he was...loving it, every bit of it. He, eventually, came against Avel's chest. His tight heat clamping Avel's cock inside him, milking him as Avel continued to try to thrust, throwing his head back and shouting something profane he coated Vaselii's walls with his white seed. Then he, in one swift movement, ripped all the skin off Vaselii's arm and then sucked at the blood and the meat until there was only bone left. He then ripped the boney arm off the hinges where it connects with the shoulder and threw it somewhere. He pulled out, turned around and slept through Vaselii's screams. Vaselii now had no arms.

After hours of screaming, Vaselii whispered hoarsely into the dark to Avel: "May I...may I...please have some food so I may have a better chance of finishing my work tomorrow?"

"Yes. And do everything I asked of you in the past. I bought some bread from the bakery. It's on the counter." He said and Vaselii got up, slowly shifting around until he could push off the ground with his legs. In that moment, Vaselii realized something; walking with no arms is hard.

He found the bag of bread with his head and he pried it open with his teeth, grabbing a piece out and waiting until he heard Avel start to snore he shaked around until his doll fell out of his skirt pocket. It fell to the floor and he crawled around, feeling with his chin until he felt the doll. He pushed the piece of bread to where he thought was the mouth. He stood back up and felt around the counter with his tongue for the bottle of kvass, Avel had left out. He held it inbetween his teeth and tilted his head, dropping it to where he thought was the doll's mouth.

He then whispered: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little, and listen to my grief. Here I am in the house of the old witch but a witch does not live here at all! A man that indulges in pleasures of the flesh and is surely a demon lives here! He has eaten both of my arms and I fear he will the rest of me! Tell me! What shall I do?"

The eyes of the little doll began to shine like two candles. It ate a little bread and drank the kvass that Vaselii had poured onto it's mouth and said: "Do not be afraid, little Vaselii. Be comforted. Say thy prayers and go to sleep. All will be well come morning." Vaselii had faith in the doll, so he crawled to the corener, put the doll under him and slept.

When Vaselii woke the next morning, Avel was gone. Vaselii mentally sighed with relief at that. Compared to Avel, his stepmother was the Virgin Mary. He got on his knees and then tried to push up with his body, fully standing but stumbling a bit. He looked around and gasped. Everything..and I mean everything was done!

"My dearest little doll!" he cried. "Thou has finished everything! You have saved my life!"

"I know, my dear." Said the doll from the counter. "Rest now and come nighttime the ogre will set you free." And then it jumped into his pocket and turned into a plain wooden doll.

Vaselii was so grateful for the doll's help. He just sat on the bed and rested, mourning over the loss of his arms. He saw the black horseman come by through the window and it turned to night. He then heard a galloping and something shouting and a gate opening and then the door opened.

"Have you finished thy chores?" Avel asked, dressed in white robes this time.

"Yes." Said Vaselii proudly. Avel was shocked. That was...that was impossible! He has no arms! A boy with no arms cannot do anything!

Avel simply scoffed and said: "May I check?"

"Of course."

Avel frantically raced around the hut, looking under the pots, checking for dust any where, seeing if the tables and chairs were clean, he went outside. Nothing. Everything was done.

"I don't believe this!" He roared and stomped over to Vaselii, picking him up by the front of his dress and shaking him. Vaselii's doll slipped out of his pocket and Avel growled demonically. It was a...it was a blessing doll!

"How dare you...How dare you bring blessing dolls into my house!" Avel roared. He grabbed the doll and his claws extended, he shoved them into the doll and what seemed to be a white ghost rose from it. Vaselii felt his heart being squeezed and the life was being sucked out of him. He started convulsing and spasming on the bed and a trail of blood seeped from past his lips.

And then everything just...stopped.

Vaselii was dead.

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A/N: ...what the fuck is wrong with me? Oh my God. This was hot. I loved it. I wanted to write my version of this so badly. I like corrupting my childhood memories with dirty stuff. Anyways, I recommend googling the real story if you're curious. It's not like this. Definently not. I'll add another story when I'm bored and I've already updated my other story eventually. Let me know if you want it to be as dark or...not as dark. I love Avel, though. Too bad he eats people. I'm definently writing another fairytale with him.

Much Love,

Naked Penguin Fetus For Pope