Greetings to all!
Reading other people's texts made think, and desire to write too. Fairy Tales does include some graphic sex scenes--despite these, Fairy Tales concerns true love, the ways to a special someone, delights and fears, relationships, Life. If you are searching for a sex-related text, maybe you will need to leave.
The events which occur are not real, neither are the characters.
Keep in mind Fairy Tales is a first attempt at writing: please do not be too critical while reading, especially since English is not my native language--though I do think constructive criticism, comments, questions may help me. Please email me at It is if you email me that I will be able to write a good text and story.
Please, please, email me.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you!

W A R N I N G: This story contains adult themes and sexual relations between people of the same gender. If you are under legal age to read this story or otherwise object to the content listed above, please do not continue. Thank you.

F a i r y T a l e s

" S e c r e t s "

The Woods' apartment,
Ky's room,
Thursday Night:

They stood, naked, in front of each other, staring at the other's body, while the moonlight lit the room, through the window. All was still, immersed into the quiet peace.

Jamie lifted Ky into his arms, and laid him onto the bed, then lied above him. He was stronger than Ky, athletic, and held all control over him--despite, Ky felt safe with him, because he was gentle. He searched into his eyes, where Love glimmered. Ky was giving himself away, free from all fear.

Jamie pressed his lips on his: the kiss was tender, their lips locked together. Then Jamie parted them with his tongue and slipped it into Ky's mouth, gently sucked in.

Meanwhile, he had been stroking his cheek; he kept caressing him, moving to the side of his neck, then his torso, closer to his hip... He thrust into his crotch, eliciting a muffled moaned. Ky's instinctively spread his legs some more. Jamie's hardened tool was crushed against his, and still, he trusted him completely.

They released their kiss. Ky slid his hand from the small of his back to his nape as he stared into Jamie's eyes, into melted hershey kisses chocolate puddles: lust, love, care. He was grinning. Ky felt protected in his arms.

Jamie pecked his lips then his chest, his button, his small tool, licked his sac, and nibbled his nuts. Ky was moaning, and he let a cry when his tool was swallowed, then immediately released; the head was kissed, given a light lick, its tip gently held between Jamie's soft lips, and released: Jamie was teasing him.

Then Jamie licked his way to the perineum, and to the reddened orifice, wrinkled and tightly closed. Ky gave another yelp as he felt Jamie's tongue graze his rosebud, his legs still spreading more. Jamie kept licking, spearing his love orifice, while he quivered in delight.

Jamie left his rosebud to kiss him on the lips, as he guided his tool to the tight orifice; Ky still felt free from all fears, and spread his legs widely, exposing the red tight puckered rosebud, vulnerable to assaults, a broad grin on his face. Jamie easily slipped into him, deeply into him, till his was all the way, with his nutsac resting on Ky's buttocks. Ky had arched his back, as Jamie had passed the sphincter ring, and let another cry, not able to tolerate the extremely good sensations his was feeling. Jamie pulled away and thrust into him. Pulled away, thrust. Pulled away, thrust. Pulled away, thrust. Ky kept moaning, and making small animal noises. Each thrust gave him shivers, made him writhe with ecstasy. He felt his nuts contracting into his sac, and--

He woke instantly, dizzy from his (wet) dream, his seed spilled; the orgasmic warmth was already gone and he shivered from the cold. The covers, the bedsheets, the pillows were icy cold. He was freezing cold--as if chilly winds, frost, with ice crystals, hail, blizzards, or snowflakes, were storming within him. What reason for him to feel so?

Tears, frozen tears, dampened his cheeks. He was exhausted, angry with Life, filled with sadness, nauseated with the idea that he gave himself away to Jamie--even if it was a dream. Still today, when he believed the dirt was gone, within his body, his decayed organs were ravaged with mold, the putrid effluvium from fetid waste rising from him, always there.

The day, he'd be too absorbed with his activities to think: centered on his brother Kay, his classes, his sculptures, his dates, reading, shopping--centered on something, he lived, another day. Then, when the night came, he went to sleep immediately: he feared to be with himself. He feared to be with the real him.


Saturday morning:

Ky had entered the Native American section of the museum, and more precisely, the Northern part, where he was observing a Zuni storage jar. It was made with a common 'coil' method, consisting to use long and thin coils of clay encircling a flat circular base; these were built up to create the shape of the jar, then smoothed and glazed. Characteristics of the Zuni pottery were black and brown designs representing geometric forms or creatures--here a deer with other patterns--on a white backdrop.

"Hey," somebody whispered close to Ky's ear.

He lifted his eyes from the clay jar, and looked warmly into his peace-intruder's (eyes). "Hey Jamie." His gentle eyes were like Hershey kisses chocolate.

"What are doing here?"

Ky restored his centering onto the pot. "An art collector has asked me for an ancient typical Zuni storage jar," he responded casually. "So I seek to observe the decor where I will be meant to steal the desired article." He tilted his head toward Jamie: "You, Officer Gayheart (Jamie Gayheart)?"

"Arresting felons. Especially those who want to deprive the museum of its Zuni storage jars."

He gave a silly laugh. "It's really a pretty jar. Filled with dried branches from date palm, all thin and twisted, or even black roses, it'd be splendid."

Jamie imagined it so: "Macabre."

Ky eluded his criticism. "Come along to the mask area with me."

They spent the morning together, also visiting the Ancient China section, before they left for Ky's apartment.


The Woods' apartment,
The living room,
Still Saturday morning:

"Please give me your coat," Ky asked Jamie. Jamie took it off, then handed it to Ky who hooked it on the portmanteau. With Jamie's help, he slipped his off. "Thanks." He hooked it too. "Please sit." Jamie chose to on the sofa. "What drink do I get you? Juice, water, coffee, or warm chocolate..."

Jamie grinned. "Coffee will do, thanks."

"Okay. I will be back."

The Woods' apartment,
The Kitchen,
Still Saturday morning:

West was sitting on his chair, reading and drinking coffee too. "Hey Ky..." He had not even lifted his eyes from his book.

"Hey, West." He took the coffeepot, and considered its weight and temperature: there still was hot coffee left. "May I? Jamie is here."

"Jamie is here?" West repeated.

"Jamie is here." Ky said as he took the pot and put it on the tray, with the mugs and warm milk. "I met him this morning; he was visiting the museum too."

"I will carry the tray," he offered, leaving his book.

"Thanks." Ky took another mug and put it on the trey. "I need to get something for him, before."

"Go ahead while I bring him the coffee."

He went to his room, and seized something wrapped into a cloth, laying on his desk.

The Woods' apartment,
The living room,
Still Saturday morning:

They were sipping their coffee, speaking casually, when Ky came into the living room.

"Here," Ky said as he gave Jamie the cloth-wrapped thing, before sitting on the couch.

Jamie stammered a clumsy 'Th-thanks', as he had not foreseen his gift. He freed the article from the enclosing cloth and revealed a detailed wood sculpture of him, sitting on a bench close to a standard lamp, warmly dressed. "It's... gorgeous." He pulled his eyes away from the carving. "You sculpted it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ky nodded. "From the drawings I made."

"He is very skilled," West praised his brother.

Jamie shook his head, still holding, still centered on the wood piece. "It's really awesome," he whispered, holding his breath, as if he feared to break something, speaking above a whisper.

"Thanks." Ky beamed, his eyes filled with sparkles and glimmer. He sipped his coffee mixed with milk.

Jamie wrapped the sculpture into the cloth, and delicately put it on the table in front of him. "Thanks, Ky." He stood, and came to kiss Ky on the cheek. Ky held his breath when Jamie's lips were lightly pressed on his cheek.

West stared evily.

"It's worth more than a kiss on the cheek, even if it is a gift; you truly are skilled, Ky." Jamie looked into Ky's eyes as he expressed his idea on his work.

There was something warm that immersed Ky into a fuzzy feeling.


The Woods' apartment,
The kitchen,
Saturday afternoon:

Kay was sitting on Paris' lap, held tightly, cuddled, kissing him, stroking his cheek, pressing himself into him. "I love you, Paris," he whispered close to his ear.

"Please get a room if you mean to do more kissing," Ky said, breaking their romantic moment.

Kay giggled. "No more kissing here, I promise."

"I love you Angel," Paris whispered, slipping his hand beneath Kay's black v-neck shirt to stroke his smooth belly. It was so soft, so warm.

Ky spilled the melted caramel into the buttered dish. Its sweet scent embalmed the kitchen as it cooled.

"May we have some to eat?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ky nodded, as he began kneading the caramel.

"Is it not to eat?"

Ky giggled. "It's oriental wax."

"Still, it's caramel, originally," protested Kay.

Paris kissed him on the nape, laughing lightly. "You are too cute, Kay. I love you." Kay titled his head, asking for another kiss.

"Promises, promises." Ky acted shocked.

Kay giggled some more, and pressed himself into Paris. As the wind blew lightly, he slightly shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Not really," Kay responded.

"Please, Paris, close the window?" Ky still kneaded the wax with sticky sugary hands.

Kay stood from Paris' lap as he went to close the open window. The daystar appeared hidden, faded away into a white sky. Everything seemed dead.

"It's sad," he stated.

"What's sad, Paris?"

"The weather."

"It's a white sky, with white clouds, covering a white sun: no glimmering light today. It's not even dark: everything is dimly white." Ky always said the obvious for his brother. "I feel nostalgic."

"Nostalgic?" repeated Paris.

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded. "I love 'sad' weathers. Especially when it is darker. No glimmering light--"

"--With hard icy rain falling. A dark stormy day." Kay grinned.

"Weird people," Paris mocked, as he came to sit back on his chair. He took Kay on his lap.

"We use to go into the garden when it rained," told him Ky.

"It was so cold," laughed Kay.

Paris observed Kay's icy blue eyes as they gleamed.

"We love rain," Ky said.

"Mmm-hmm," his brother nodded. "It's so relaxing to hear it fall, too."

"These happy days..." Paris sighed. "I think some people--or their moods--depend too easily on the weather, when it is dark. It's good you aren't."

"Does it mean you are too easily affected by 'sad' weather?" Kay teased him.

"Maybe: I associated a dimly lit day with the word 'sad'. Not that I feel sad myself."

"SweetHeart..." Kay rested his head on Paris' chest. "I will cheer the days when it is dark."

"I love you Angel."

Kay tilted his head still resting on Paris' chest. To Paris, he appeared to be looking into his eyes. "I love you too. Kiss me please?"

"Promises, promises!"


The Woods' appartment,
Kay's room,
Still Saturday afternoon:

They were on the bed, Kay sitting on Paris' lap, where he always desired to be; they were kissing, with Paris gently slipping his tongue into Kay. It was sweet. As their kiss lingered on, Kay pressed himself into Paris who wrapped him tighter within his arms. "I love you, Sweetheart."

Paris searched Kay's eyes, those icy blue puddles, lost in them, even if they were stone-blind. "I love you, Angel."

"Sleep with me, tonight." Paris choked as he heard Kay's words. "Cuddle me, holding me tight, as we sleep together tonight. It'd be so good to wake tomorrow morning with you."

"You mean dream with you close to me?"

Kay nodded. "Please?"

"What does West think?"

"Does West's thinking mean something?"

"If I do sleep with you, do you believe West or Ky will let me, thinking it is normal for me to do so? Especially since you still are a minor."

Kay sighed. "Okay, I will ask him."

"I think I will. Not tonight: between today and Friday. To sleep together Friday night." Then Paris covered his lips with his, kissing him lightly. "I love you Angel. It'd be really good to wake in the morning with you close to me, pressed into me."

"Kiss me, please?"

Paris obliged.


The Woods' apartment,
The kitchen,
Still Saturday afternoon, meanwhile:

They were still working on their Art History research project, books and papers spread on the table, with pencils, colored pens, erasers, sharpeners, or paper-clips between folders.

"I think we will be finished on Monday," stated Robbie.

"A few images to illustrate some things 'd be good. A4 colored images if possible."

"I agree. Let's meet on Monday, with A4 images we each look for tomorrow, then choose some to include. Either you or I keep the whole paper, till Wednesday, due date."

"Okay." Ky scribbled something on his paper. "I will keep the paper too, please."

"Alright." He nodded.

"Let's eat here on Wednesday? I will fix something. Since I will be free before noon, you come here when you are too."

"Is it a date?"

"Nope." Ky grinned. "It's an agreeable meal between friends."


They cleared their things from the table, books and papers, stationery.

"Cute earring," Ky expressed his view. It was a little cat mask.

"Thanks." Robbie immediately felt for his left ear.

"Maybe, someday, I will pierce my ear too."

"Still hesitating?"

"Fearing there may be some complicated things or effects from the piercing, also."

"The worse you may get is an infected ear: nothing to raise a real worry."

Ky changed the way he was sitting. "I guess," he said, even if he believed the contrary.

Ring. Ring.

Ky went into the living room to lift the receiver: "Hey Mom!" He had read the digits displayed. "Really good, you? ...Dad too? ...Yes, we are... Maybe? I need to ask..." He walked back to the kitchen, where Robbie was still there. "Okay... kiss-kiss, Mom." He clicked the phone off. "She (Robbie had heard him say 'Mom' so he knew who phoned) called because we are eating with her and Dad, tomorrow."

"Cool. It appears to me your family gets along pretty happily."

"Mmm-hmm," Ky nodded. "It does. You?"

Robbie shook his head. "I visit family (he stressed the word ironically) as less as possible. It's not even 'family' no more, it's 'them'."

"It's harsh," Ky observed.

"They are 'harsh' with me."

"I guess they condemn your homosexuality?"

"Mmm-hmm. Yes, even if it is more complicated," he sighed.

"They still are--"

"--not they are not. Don't say the word." He shifted his gaze. "People who physically or sexually abuse their child, even if they are biological begetters, they aren't real fathers or real mothers: they are monsters. Most people don't disagree with this reasoning. They will (disagree) if the child reveals no physical sign of maltreatment. It's sad because moral abuse is not visible."

"True," Ky said softly.

"I always knew I was... gay. They refused to hear me, or believe me, or accept me." Robbie's eyes were watery so Ky came closer to him to embrace him.

"Go ahead, cry, it feels good to."

"They force me into putting on dresses, sob. When I visit them, sob I have to." Ky gasped. "It feels so wrong..."

"It is, Robbie. Don't agree to."

"It's them, sob, who pay for college."

"Still: it's wrong to force their son into wearing dresses."

Robbie's legs gave away; both him with Ky fell to the floor. "It's their daughter they are forcing into wearing dresses, not their son!"

"Ssh, ssh," Ky soothed him, cradling him in his arms. "You are speaking none sense, Robbie."

"It's the truth," he whispered. "Robbie is Anais."

"Who is Anais?"


"It's confusing, Robbie. Who is Anais?"

"Me," he repeated. "Anais is me. Anais Morgan."

Ky immediately grasped Robbie's words, then. "Anais Morgan is Robbie Morgan?" Robbie nodded. "Anais is the feminine Robbie?" He still nodded. "Robbie is female?" He gave another nod. "You are trans?"

"Mmm-hmm." His sobs were quieter.

"You feel female?"

Robbie choked.


"It feels wrong to be female. I feel male." Ky felt even more confused than before. "I paid to change sex."

"To be female? When?"

"To be male. ...To be male."

Ky still cradled him. "You were Anais Morgan. You changed to Robbie Morgan. You are Robbie Morgan."

"Mmm-hmm," Robbie nodded. "Please keep it secret?" he asked, whispering.

"I will," Ky promised. "I won't say a thing, not even to Kay or West."



The interesting questions:

Ky dreamt Jamie was making love to him; does he really want this to happen, unconsciously?

Ky feels cold, then filthy when he wakes from his wet dream. Why does he feel so? Is his dream the reason to these feelings?

Ky says he hides the 'real him'. Who is the 'real him'?

"The worse you may get is an infected ear: nothing to raise a real worry," Robbie says to Ky, who mistruts him. Why does he fear "some complicated things or effects from the piercing"?

Robbie is an FTM trans. I think there is an infinite list of questions that may be asked, so I won't write them here. I will write a dialogue between Ky and Robbie to clear some questions.