The Frog Prince
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2017 by Lubrican

Sex Story: Chapter 3 - An original fairy tale in which a boy is turned into a frog by an evil witch. It turns out it was the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Fairy Tale  

Princesses don’t have much to do with the daily running of a kingdom. The fact is that a princess might go all day without seeing her parents, except for meals. And if a princess wishes to go on a picnic with her lady’s maid, at least if it’s within the gardens inside the castle walls, then her absence from a meal isn’t seen as odd either.

On this day the princess decided to do just that. To that end she sent Stephanie to the kitchen to arrange for a basket of edibles to be prepared. But when Stephanie returned to her lady’s chambers, they didn’t go anywhere. Instead, they ate there, in the room.

Even then the princess ate only enough to satisfy her immediate hunger pangs. She had other, more important pangs in mind to assuage.

Princesses are thought to be special by almost everyone, whether they be of lower station in life, or her peers. But the fact is that a princess is just a girl, like any other girl. She feels the same emotions as all other girls. Joy, pain, disappointment, defeat, hope, anger, love and even ... lust. Granted, many of those emotions must be kept in check, lest she appear to be common, but she has them all the same.

And just because a girl is of high breeding does not mean she doesn’t experiment with her body as she matures. Like the other teenagers in the castle, Princess Jennifer had felt around between her legs, and squeezed her tender nipples. This particular princess had a nanny who understood that the lot of the female in feudal society was rarely happy, in or out of bed, and it was her firm opinion that all women should know how to attain sexual release, especially if the man in a woman’s life either was no good at giving it to her, or just didn’t care whether or not she got it.

So Jennifer knew how to masturbate. She would never have admitted it in a thousand years. At least not to anyone who wasn’t a confidante, and the only confidante she had after puberty arrived was her lady’s maid. True, she had never talked about doing it to Stephanie. But under these circumstances it was only slightly uncomfortable when she had Stephie remove her clothing and then lay naked on the bed. Stephanie, of course, remained clothed.

“It looks so big,” said Jennifer, feeling a little dread. What if she couldn’t take it up inside her? Stephanie had. The girl had been pounding it in and out of her with abandon. If Jennifer couldn’t accommodate it she would feel like a fool.

“I thought so too,” whispered Stephanie, as if someone might hear. “I had to go slow at first.”

“Did it hurt? Did anything ... tear?” Jennifer sounded nervous.

“If you mean my maidenhead, that got torn when I put a carrot inside one time. And yes, that did sting a bit, and bleed a bit as well. But this time there was only stretching.”

“Mine is intact,” said Jennifer. “I never thought to put a vegetable inside me.”

Stephanie blushed. “Another girl recommended it to me,” she said, softly.

“What girl?” asked Jennifer, at that moment just another teenager. Then she remembered her station. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“Ribbit,” said Galen, suggesting they were talking entirely too much and not fucking nearly enough.

“Here we go,” said Jennifer, her voice trembling.

She brought the tip of Galen’s penis to her noble portal. Nervousness had let the lubricants her saddle had generated in her dry up.

“It won’t go in,” she complained.

“Are you ... slippery?” asked Stephanie.

Jennifer groaned. Of course that would be important.

“No,” she moaned.

“Just use it to rub a little bit,” suggested Stephanie.

Jennifer did that. The frog croaked and she felt something warm bathe her opening.

“What happened?” she asked.

Stephanie peered at her mistresses pussy.

“It looks like he ... um ... leaked or something.”

She reached without thinking and slid her finger across the top of her mistresses split. Jennifer jumped. Stephanie’s finger came away with green on it. She tasted.

“Yes, he leaked. I don’t think he actually squirted. If he’d done that there would be a mess.”

“Help me,” said the princess, impatiently. “I can’t get a good grip on him and pull at the same time.”

Stephanie helped. In fact, she helped a little too much. Not understanding the formulas and coefficients and all that sort of science, she simply put her palm on Galen’s back and pushed. His “leakage” had lubed up her princess admirably and, in a thrice, Princess Jennifer’s virginity was torn asunder.

She gave a strangled, “Eeep!” as what felt like the mother of all bee stings happened right at the opening of her pussy. But that seemed to be only part of the issue, because there was an aching pain much deeper than that. In fact that aching pain started where the bee sting left off, and felt like it went all the way to her noble little belly button.

“Owwww,” she groaned, and drew breath to complain some more. But the discomfort was already lessening and Stephanie, realizing what she’d done, took the extra step of reaching to grip Galen’s sides and un-impale her mistress. When that fat cock came out of her, Jennifer felt a different kind of discomfort.

The discomfort of being empty.

“Put it back in!” she gasped.

Stephanie reached to comply.

“But slower this time,” cautioned the princess quickly.

Ever sure to follow instructions, Stephanie pushed with a much more sedate strength.

Galen’s green prick slid slowly into Jennifer’s pussy. The ridges and bumps all along his shaft massaged things in the poor girl that had never been massaged.

And this time there was no pain. True, she felt stuffed, but it was the kind of stuffed one was after eating too much dessert.

It was a nice stuffed.

Five minutes later she had progressed leaps and bounds beyond “nice” and she batted her maid’s hand away from the frog so she could grip it herself.

And five minutes after that, Her Royal Highness, Princess Jennifer Lynne Tanush, at that moment every bit of sixteen years, two months and twelve days of age ... was thoroughly addicted to cock.

And the cock she was addicted to was green, two inches in diameter, eight inches long, and belonged to a frog.


The secret was kept. It had to be, because the princess was required to be a virgin. It was just a rule. But there were bumps on that road, primarily those caused when Princess Jennifer, who was used to getting most things she wanted, did not want to share “her” frog.

“Of course it’s my frog,” she said, when Stephanie said she needed to get it back to Elizabeth, and was told it didn’t belong to Elizabeth any longer. “Everything in the castle belongs to my family. Everything in the kingdom belongs to my family.”

“But that’s not fair,” argued Stephanie, who knew she was treading on dangerous ground. “Lizzy could have kept him a secret, and you wouldn’t even know he existed.”

“Then she should have,” said Jennifer, already wanting to reach for the little green croaker again. He was resting, though, and she wanted him well rested when she reached for him again. She could still feel the remains of his copious warm gift in her belly. “I can’t do without that. I simply must have him at my disposal.”

“Then imagine how she would feel if you took him away from her forever,” said Stephanie. “And she’s been sharing him with Rebecca and me and who knows who else?”

“But I crave him again already,” moaned the princess, who wasn’t heartless and could, indeed, imagine what it would be like if the frog were to disappear from her life forever.

“One must not overeat, lest one become fat,” counseled Stephanie. “It may be the same with this. Don’t let yourself become greedy.”

It was that term greedy that struck home. Greed was something commoners exhibited. In fact, the vast majority of greedy people in the kingdom were nobles, but only the commoners knew that.

Even then, though, Jennifer was stubborn. She was, after all, the princess. And to her mind everything in the castle did belong to her. In a manner of speaking.

In the end Stephanie was more clever, though. When she wondered aloud what would happen if Elizabeth complained, and Jennifer said that, in that happenstance, she’d just have the girl whipped, Stephanie replied, “Yes, you could do that, but someone would still take the frog and cook it for dinner.”

So a schedule was worked out.

Elizabeth would get the frog two nights a week, to share with whomever she wished.

And the princess would get him the rest of the time. If she must share him in order to have him in her life, then she would do so. To go without his ... attentions ... was unthinkable. She already felt something for him she’d not felt for any other living thing.

In a moment of magnanimity, she agreed that, of course, Stephanie could use him whenever Jennifer had other things to occupy herself with.

And so it was that a teenager, who just happened to be a princess, started to fall in love for the first time.

With a frog.


A week or so later the royal family was dining one evening, when the king brought up the subject again that chilled the heart of his daughter.

“It is nearing the time when you should marry,” he said, without prelude.

“But I don’t want to marry,” said his daughter.

“That is of no consequence,” he said, brusquely. “You cannot live here forever. You need a husband who will advance the fortunes of the kingdom.”

“Eighteen years isn’t forever, Father,” said the girl.

“Eighteen years? Preposterous!” he laughed. “In two more years you’ll be an old maid and no man will want you.”

The queen sat mute. She’d been through this. She hadn’t had any say in who she married either. It had worked out well for her, but that was just luck.

“Am I not comely, Father?” What she had in mind was that two simple years wouldn’t change her appearance all that much.

“Entirely,” he agreed. “Your hair is flaxen, your visage a delight to look upon. And you have reasonable breasts, though your hips could be wider.”

He sounded like he was talking about a horse.

“Who do you have in mind for her, my king?” asked the queen, finally breaking her silence.

“Edmund, on my eastern border has a son of fifteen,” said the king. “He’s the second son, and so is not in line to inherit, but if he becomes an officer in my army then his father, and his heir would think twice about looking my way with avarice in his mind.”

“He would also become an heir to your kingdom,” noted the queen. In her mind that meant that her daughter would then bear a son who might some day inherit.

 
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