Such Stuff
By Maximilian Cummings
Part 20
The Wicked Witch
Lizzie tossed and turned finding it difficult to sleep. Conrad had laughed at her from his prison and said she would soon know what it was like to be imprisoned herself. What had he meant? It worried her. It was a long time before she was able to get to sleep and no sooner, or so it seemed to her, than she had fallen asleep than she was dreaming once again. All she could see around her was that it was all very green, not a soft green, not a dull green nor a natural forest-like green: rather it was a bright emerald green. The import of the colour came to her, she knew where her dream had taken her, she was back in the Emerald City of Oz.
The Green Maiden, her sister in Oz, was dressing her ready to meet the Great Oz. She was dressing Lizzie in one of the prettiest green silk aprons you ever saw. She tied a green ribbon around Lizzie’s neck and they started for the Throne Room of the Great Oz. Lizzie felt she was rather underdressed but did not like to say anything.
First they came to a great hall in which were many ladies and gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes. These people had nothing to do but talk to each other, but they always came to wait outside the Throne Room every morning, although they were never permitted to see Oz. As Lizzie entered they looked at her curiously wondering who this pretty girl was dressed in nothing but a green apron and a green ribbon. Many wished to lift the apron and see what was hidden beneath. One of them whispered:
“Are you really going to look upon the face of Oz the Terrible?”
“Of course,” answered Lizzie, “if he will see me.”
“Oh, he will see you,” said the soldier who had taken her message to the Wizard.
Just then a bell rang, and the green girl said to Lizzie, “That is the signal. You must go into the Throne Room alone.”
She opened a little door and Lizzie walked boldly through and found herself in a wonderful place. What interested Lizzie most was the big throne of green marble that stood in the middle of the room. It was shaped like a chair and sparkled with gems, as did everything else. In the center of the chair was an enormous Head, without a body to support it or any arms or legs whatever. There was no hair upon this head, but it had eyes and a nose and mouth, and was much bigger than the head of the biggest giant.
“Well,” thought Lizzie, “that is how it should be. I was half expecting, given the way my dreams normally run, to find an enormous cock without a body to support it or any arms, legs or head whatever.”
As Lizzie gazed upon this in wonder, the eyes turned slowly and looked at her sharply and steadily. Then the mouth moved, and Lizzie heard a voice say:
“I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?”
“I am Lizzie, the Small and Meek. I have come to you for help.”
The eyes looked at her thoughtfully for a full minute. Then Oz asked, “What do you wish me to do?”
“Send me back to Kansas, where my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are,” she answered in keeping with the book.
The eyes winked three times, and then there was a puff of smoke and a loud report and the head disappeared to be replaced by what Lizzie had originally expected, a large cock. The penis pointed at Lizzie three times and then turned up to the ceiling and down to the floor and moved around so queerly that it seemed to point to every part of the room.
“Well,” said the Cock, “I will give you my answer. You have no right to expect me to send you back to Kansas unless you do something for me in return. In this country everyone must pay for everything he gets. If you wish me to use my magic power to send you home again you must do something for me first. Help me and I will help you.”
“What must I do?” asked Lizzie but thinking “do something for me? - I can just guess what that will be if this dream follows my normal pattern!” She had a vision of herself trying to excite the enormous cock and eventually, after a lot of tugging and difficult work, it firing across the room and hitting the ceiling. But she was wrong, the dream followed the book.
“Kill the Wicked Witch of the West,” answered Oz.
“But I cannot!” exclaimed Lizzie, actually greatly surprised. And so, true to the book, Lizzie found herself leaving the great city, now clothed in a silk dress, and heading East on a mission to kill. She was not greatly worried. She had read the ‘Wizard’ and knew a bucket of water would melt the witch as easy as anything and in any case this was only a dream.
The Emerald City was soon left far behind. Lizzie was rather sad she had not seen more of her friend, the Green Maiden, and talked to her perhaps even... The dream seemed to have hurried her from the City and on her way to kill but she was once again with her friends the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and the Lion. As they and Lizzie advanced the ground became rougher and hillier, for there were no farms nor houses in this country of the West, and the ground was untilled. The afternoon sun shone hot in their faces, for there were no trees to offer them shade. It was so very hot and Lizzie was dripping under her white dress, the sweat pouring from her, soaking the material and sticking it to her skin. The buds of her breasts, rubbing against the material, hot from the sunshine stood proud moulded by the material, which was almost transparent around them. Their redness showed clearly through the material and the Scarecrow, with repeated sidelong glances, was sure he could discern the little bumps and undulations at the very edge of her areola. The Scarecrow was almost beside himself in excitement, his permanently erect corncob penis strained forward from his fly desperately in need of touch, encouragement and manual, oral or vaginal stimulation. He glanced downwards but the sway of the material of her dress kept it away from Lizzie’s secret curls though the damp material clung to her pretty thighs, the pink skin showing clearly through the thin material. It was a trial for the Scarecrow.
Lizzie’s exposure was not just the subject of the Scarecrow’s interest. The Tin Man was observant. The dry day meant he was not at all in danger of rust or tarnish but he felt it would perhaps be a good idea to think about using his self oiler just in case. The Lion, walking a little behind the others, could not see Lizzie’s pretty breasts and thighs but he could not miss the roundness of her bottom cheeks moving beneath her dress. The dress, wet with sweat, clung to her buttocks revealing their shape in perfect detail. It was an erotic sight and the Lion’s mighty penis pointed forward and erect beneath him, the shiny purple head bulbous, his balls, heavy and full, swinging slackly in the heat.
Sexual excitement was electric around Lizzie though she was unaware, feeling simply hot and uncomfortable in the heat. She missed her pretty blue gingham dress now that her wonderful emerald dress was merely white. It stuck to her uncomfortably. What she wanted was to pull it off and sit naked in the shade of a tree or, better still, slip into cool water.
It was hard going in the unrelenting sun but presently the party found themselves on the edge of a ravine snaking through the country. To carry on they needed to descend into it to reach the other side. The sides were steep and the going difficult but as they climbed downwards they found themselves in cool shade and below them they could hear the tinkling of water on stones, a sound revealing there was a stream winding through the ravine.
Lizzie stood at the bottom of the ravine, cooler now but dusty from the day’s walk and the scramble down the side. Above her the bright blue sky showed as a brilliant strip between the walls of the ravine. Should she just wade across the stream or should she pull off her clothes and the silver slippers and immerse herself in its refreshing water? It was not much of a decision to make. The Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion reaching the valley floor were treated to the sight of Lizzie pulling her dress up and over her head revealing her body in all its beautiful nakedness. Carefully she stepped forward into the stream and then bending picked up a pebble. Her companions swallowed in unison, the sight of Lizzie bending forward, her buttocks tensioning and a hint of pink sex showing between them was not unpleasing. The sexual feelings largely dispelled by the climb down into the ravine returned with force. Lizzie herself was unaware as she settled herself down in the stream, its waters bubbling past her, caressing and cooling her tired limbs. She closed her eyes and sighed with contentment. She was certainly safe from the Wicked Witch of the West immersed in water. There was no way she could ever get near Lizzie when she was bathing.
Of course it was only Lizzie who bathed. The Tin Man was scared of water and with good reason, the Scarecrow too did not wish his straw to become soggy and risk rot and the Lion, who could of course swim if he had to (but never had), did not care for water. He had his long wet and pink tongue to keep himself spotless just like any other self-respecting cat. They stood on the stream bank and watched Lizzie with an intense fascination. Lizzie felt their stares and opened her eyes to see her friends watching her. Now she was quite used to the Scarecrow standing around with his rigid corncob sticking out of his trousers, it looked odd, even obscene but that was how he was, dear thing. But to see the Tin Man with his self oiler ready and the Lion standing proud did indicate to Lizzie that there was a consensus of purpose amongst her companions. Lizzie sighed. This was how her dreams seemed to go and it was best to let go and allow her subconscious its rein. Of course there was Conrad’s influence but how could he, now he was imprisoned, interfere with her mind given she was trapped in his dream world. Was she dreaming a dream within a dream or was this just a dream whilst she was asleep in a different reality? Her friends were waiting.
The Tin Man just loved watching the Scarecrow pleasuring Lizzie, seeing the corncob penis sliding wetly in and out of her. He did so hope Lizzie would next be kind to him and help with his self oiler. He was worried about the crossing of the river and wished to be well lubricated in his joints before attempting the task. He had watched Lizzie climb from her cooling sojourn in the water to the Scarecrow and taken his cob in her hand.
It was an invitation the Scarecrow had been very pleased to take up and it had not been long before Lizzie had him on the ground with her astride him pushing the bright yellow corn cob up into her. In her dream Lizzie found the corrugations of the cob an enjoyable stimulation, a kind of rubbing she was not used to, and she bounced contentedly knowing she could wash again in the coolness of the stream when it was over.
The Tin Man was almost beside himself when Lizzie raised herself from the Scarecrow, creamy cornstarch dripping from her and back down to the cob again. The Scarecrow had a particular happy expression on his painted face. The Tin Man was pleased for his friend but desperate for help with his self oiler.
Lizzie knew what was needed and her nimble fingers helped the Tin Man with his difficulty and soon, perhaps sooner than the Tin Man would have liked, he was liberally spraying his joints and, rather carelessly, Lizzie herself.
The Lion had kept rather quiet, though had been watching carefully, waiting what he hoped would be his turn. His tumescence had not subsided one little bit and his balls felt hot and heavy in the heat. Now Lizzie had not missed the Lion’s preference, she knew that the Lion watched her bottom, that a bending forward on her part was particularly interesting to him. Opened and lubricated by corn starch and possibly a little oil she might well be able to accommodate the King of Beasts if she was to present herself. She could but try.
Lizzie let go of the Tin Man, and bent forward getting down on all fours like a lioness. In a rush she heard the Lion coming up behind her and she felt the not unwelcome hot wet rasp of his great tongue on her sex. Now the importance of the tongue in oral work is self-evident but the Lion’s advantage in this respect was clear. Even before the Cowardly Lion stood over her and placed his great penis at her sex, Lizzie was close to orgasm. The pressing of the great head and its successful penetration took her over the edge. The Scarecrow and Tin Man watched the flexing of the mighty muscles of the Lion’s haunches as he applied himself. Lizzie was surprised at the force and evident volume of the ejaculation when it came. She watched it float away as she refreshed herself for a second time in the stream before the party continued its journey.
Now the Wicked Witch of the West had but one eye, yet that was as powerful as a telescope, and could see everywhere. But whilst the travellers were hidden in the ravine she was not troubled by seeing them in her country; but it was a different matter when they climbed up and out of its cooling depths. Immediately the Witch blew upon a silver whistle that hung around her neck and the events leading to the capture of Lizzie and the Lion were set in train. But Lizzie missed all this, her dream seemed to shift and there she was carefully and gently being lifted by the Winged Monkeys and carried swiftly through the air until they came to the Wicked Witch’s castle, where they set her down upon the front doorstep.
The leader said to the Witch, “we have obeyed you as far as we were able. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are destroyed, and the Lion is tied up in your yard.”
Then all the Winged Monkeys, with much laughing and chattering and noise, flew into the air and were soon out of sight.
The Wicked Witch laughed and said to Lizzie, harshly and severely, “Come with me; and see that you mind everything I tell you, for if you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow.”
Lizzie, not too worried for she knew the Tin Man would be repaired and the Scarecrow restuffed, so she followed the Witch through many of the beautiful rooms in her castle until they came to the kitchen, where the Witch bade her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the fire fed with wood.
Lizzie did not go to work meekly, instead she straightway picked up a bucket of water that stood near and dashed it over the Witch, wetting her from head to foot.
Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of laughter, and then, as Lizzie looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to change and grow younger.
“You thought to trick me, to make me melt away but water does not frighten me at all you silly girl. Nothing is that easy.”
By the door was the chief of the yellow Winkies dressed in yellow and black. Lizzie could now see it was Conrad and he was laughing with glee.
“You are my prisoner and slave here in my castle to stay and work for me forever,” said the Wicked Witch and hit Lizzie with her umbrella. Conrad smirked. “Forever,” he repeated, gave a little wave and walked out the door.
Lizzie looked at the Wicked Witch in surprise and confusion. The water had not harmed her, Conrad had changed the story. Moreover the water had changed the Witch and made her young and beautiful though it only lasted a short time.
With Lizzie hard at work, the Witch thought she would go into the courtyard and harness the Cowardly Lion like a horse; it would amuse her, she was sure, to make him draw her chariot whenever she wished to go to drive. But as she opened the gate the Lion gave a loud roar and bounded at her so fiercely that the Witch was afraid, and ran out and shut the gate again.
“If I cannot harness you,” said the Witch to the Lion, speaking through the bars of the gate, “I can starve you. You shall have nothing to eat until you do as I wish.”
So after that she took no food to the imprisoned Lion; but every day she came to the gate at noon and asked, “Are you ready to be harnessed like a horse?”
And the Lion would answer, “No. If you come in this yard, I will bite you.”
The reason the Lion did not have to do as the Witch wished was that every night, while the woman was asleep, Lizzie carried him food from the cupboard. After he had eaten he would lie down on his bed of straw, and Lizzie would lie beside him and put her head on his soft, shaggy mane while they talked of their troubles. It was only the second night she did this that she noticed the effect this had on the Lion, his great furry penis would rise and its head would point up in the air. Lizzie was kind and when she reached out and began to stroke the Lion’s great cock, he gave a deep purr of contentment. She could barely encircle it with her fingers but, grasped in her hand, she could move his foreskin and slide it across the great purple head. It was very comfortable lying there across the soft warm fur of the Lion’s stomach and watching as her hands worked his mighty cock. A great rumbling purr seemed to vibrate through the Lion’s body as he lay there enjoying Lizzie’s gentle attentions. Lizzie smiled up at his great head with its majestic mane before turning back to watch her hands. She was musing on whether she should lick his cock, certainly there was no way she would be able to take the head into her mouth - but she could certainly tease it with her tongue—when it was shooting, shooting a great stream of creamy fluid. Lizzie had never seen so much coming from a penis—and it kept coming in powerful spurts. But even the mighty Lion could not maintain such a flow for long. The ejaculation faltered and subsided to a dribble. The Lion had come.
Night after night Lizzie came to the Lion and tried to plan some way to escape. But they could find no way to get out of the castle, for it was constantly guarded by the yellow Winkies, who were the slaves of the Wicked Witch and too afraid of her not to do as she told them. The Lion and Lizzie consoled each other and it was not long before Lizzie found herself regularly on all fours being serviced by the great Lion standing over her. The Lion was gentle and many times she came with the Lion’s warm fur tickling her back and his great penis pulsing inside her, filling her until she overflowed.
Now the Wicked Witch had two great longings. One was to have for her own the Silver Shoes which the girl always wore and the other, which was even sharper, was to play with Lizzie’s beautiful body. From the moment she had set eyes on Lizzie far away she had desired her. The very sight of her made her wet with desire and it was this wish that she found easiest to achieve: securing the Silver Shoes was more difficult. If she could only get hold of the Silver Shoes, they would give her more power than all the other things she had lost. She watched Lizzie hungrily, to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them. But the girl was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took them off except at night and when she took her bath. The Witch was too much afraid of the dark to dare go in Lizzie’s room at night to take the shoes, but she always came near when Lizzie was bathing.
She would stand staring at Lizzie, desire rising until she could take no more. She would strip off her clothes exposing her old and wrinkled body but as soon as she stepped into the bath with Lizzie she would begin to change becoming young and beautiful again as the water touched her skin. She would get in behind Lizzie and sit with Lizzie’s back to her and with her legs stretched out alongside Lizzie so Lizzie was sitting in the water with her bottom between the Wicked Witch’s thighs. This allowed the Witch to reach around and cup Lizzie’s breasts in her hands. There was little Lizzie could do. The Wicked Witch had her prisoner.
The Witch was so besotted with Lizzie’s body, so consumed with desire that as soon as she was in the bath with Lizzie’s soft hips between her thighs and Lizzie’s breasts in her hands that she forgot all about the Silver Shoes. She would take her time washing Lizzie with a bar of soap making sure she was as clean as anything and making sure she touched her everywhere. Lizzie would shudder as she felt a bony finger in her bottom and stare fixedly ahead as the bony hands played with her round bottom knowing it would not be long before she would feel hard nipples against her back and the touch of soapy hands sliding up her thighs. The water may give the Witch the appearance of youth but her touch was her real self—all hardness, boniness and leathery skin.
Out of the bath the Witch would dry poor Lizzie and push her down on the cold stone floor, settling her own sex over Lizzie’s face and commanding her to lick and lick whilst all the while playing with Lizzie’s own sex, sticking her fingers into her and pinching her clitoris until it was red and hurt. Poor Lizzie’s tongue would ache as try as she did, for she knew her ordeal would be over the quicker, it took a long time for the Wicked Witch to come, drenching Lizzie’s face. But the Wicked Witch did not care one jot about Lizzie’s own needs; her finger work was not for Lizzie and never brought her to orgasm. Lizzie had to seek her own release with the powerful Lion.
Lizzie was quite beside herself. Try as she might, despite wracking her brains, she could not think of a way to escape from the Wicked Witch or, as she knew she must in the story, destroy her. Water had not had the expected effect and, indeed it, had quite the opposite effect. The Witch was equally stuck in trying to think how she might get Lizzie’s Silver Shoes. But the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of a trick that would give her what she wanted. One night she placed a bar of iron in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then by her magic arts made the iron invisible to human eyes. So that when Lizzie crept back across the floor having visited the Lion she stumbled over the bar, not being able to see it, and fell at full length.
She was not much hurt, but in her fall one of the Silver Shoes came off; and before she could reach it, there was a flash of light, the Witch appeared and snatched it away and put it on her own skinny foot.
Lizzie was sprawled across the floor quite stunned by the fall and the bright light, with her dress awry showing her thighs and indeed her pretty sex. The wicked woman was greatly pleased with the success of her trick, but the sight of Lizzie’s helplessness and exposure inflamed her desire once more. She bent and touched Lizzie’s pretty curls and stroked her bony fingers right along Lizzie’s most private areas. The wicked woman licked her lips as she easily pushed her hard bony fingers into Lizzie.
Instantly, before she could even wonder why it was so slippery, why the entry was so easy, why Lizzie was so lubricated, the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and as Lizzie looked at her in wonder, the Witch hand and then arm began to shrink and fall away.
“See what you have done!” she screamed. “In a minute I shall melt away.”
“I’m very sorry, indeed,” said Lizzie, who was truly frightened to see the Witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her very eyes.
“Where did you find it? Who has been with you? Did you know semen would be the end of me?” asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice.
“Of course not,” answered Lizzie. “How should I?”
“Well, in a few minutes I shall be all melted, and you will have the castle to yourself. I have been wicked in my day, but I never thought a girl like you would ever be able to melt me and end my wicked deeds. Look out—here I go!”
With these words the Witch fell down in a brown, melted, shapeless mass and began to spread over the clean boards of the kitchen floor. Seeing that she had really melted away to nothing, Lizzie drew a bucket of water and threw it over the mess.
She then swept it all out the door. After picking out the Silver Shoe, which was all that was left of the old woman, she cleaned and dried it with a cloth, and put it on her foot again. Then, being at last free to do as she chose, she ran out to the courtyard to tell the Lion that the Wicked Witch of the West had come to an end, and that they were no longer prisoners in a strange land.
The Cowardly Lion was much pleased, though surprised, to hear that the Wicked Witch had been melted by his ejaculate, and Lizzie at once unlocked the gate of his prison and set him free. They went in together to the castle, where Lizzie’s first act was to call all the Winkies together and tell them that they were no longer slaves. There was great rejoicing among the yellow Winkies, for they had been made to work hard during many years for the Wicked Witch, who had always treated them with great cruelty. They kept this day as a holiday, then and ever after, and spent the time in feasting, dancing and communal intercourse.
Lizzie awoke with some difficulty to find Puck starring at her from his preferred roost on the bedpost.
“Ho, ho, so you escaped then. Not clever enough for you after all. He will be quite the cross one. But you have been asleep for days and much have we missed you. The Chevalier has been quite beside himself. “Oh what if she never wakes, where will we be, what is to be done, a glass casket perhaps for a sleeping beauty...” he mimicked.
“Days? How can I have slept for days? Surely I would be ill or worse but I don’t feel awful at all?”
“Ah, well you see you slept, ate and drank in the Land of Oz did you not?”
“But, but that was a dream or is this just a dream?”
“Ho, ho, what thinks you? It feels real enough—does it not to you?”
And Lizzie had to admit it did. It was all a puzzlement.