Sam and Rick awkwardly got into the ride vehicle, a giant sturgeon with skin marred by peeling paint and bleach stains. The inside of it had been scooped out as if by some hungry giant, the organs and fat replaced by two benches dotted with droplets of water from previous loops.

Their father had wanted to sit with them, but his sons were simply too tall for them all to sit in the same row, and so they had taken the back, while their father sat in front of them. Which suited them just fine: they would rather be almost literally anywhere else on Earth than here, some rinky-dink fairytale amusement park that was a far, far cry from Disneyland, Universal, or even (and this was saying a lot) Six Flags Great Adventure.

That didn’t mean the place wasn’t crowded – on the contrary, it was packed, each faux-cobblestone street filled with strollers and the stressed-out, frayed parents that pushed them over their bumpy surface. And the attractions: there was not a rollercoaster in sight, the park having eschewed them in favor of “dark rides”, all of which were based on old European folk stories.

So why were they here? Their parents had just gotten divorced, and this place apparently offered some sentimental value to their father, as it had been a favorite vacation spot for him since his own childhood. But Sam and Rick were not that selfless: the only way they had agreed to go was through bribery, their father offering to pay for new phones for them both if they humored him and came.

They couldn’t help but wonder if the promise of new phones had really been worth it, as they suffered endlessly through water-based rides that took them through animatronic retellings of famous stories. But these were not the versions you would know – this shit was old-school.

In their take on the Little Mermaid, for example, Ursula didn’t take Ariel’s voice away with some colorful effects and a sweeping orchestral score. Here, the wicked sea-witch ripped her tongue out with her bare hands, and laughed mechanically while the little rubber organ limped flaccidly within the grasp of her automaton hand.

The ride didn’t even bother recompensating with a happy ending, either. Instead, the bastard of a prince chose a human woman, while Ariel and her sisters ascended to “Heaven” (represented by some sloppy-drawn white clouds and chubby cherubs) on taut silver wires.

Cinderella was even worse, especially when it came to bodily mutilation. Here, the evil stepsisters resorted to extreme measures to try to get their feet into the fateful glass slipper, one by cutting off her toe, the other by cutting off her heel. And their reward for their attempted subterfuge? Getting their eyes plucked out by red-eyed ravens. This particular image still haunted Sam, how the animatronics of the stepsisters moved back and forth fruitlessly on their axles as the furry avian puppets, suspended from metal clouds, assaulted their too-square heads.

Worst of all, though was Sleeping Beauty. In this twisted adaption, the prince didn’t just kiss Aurora – he straight-up raped her (“tastefully” implied with a creative use of projection and shadows)! Which didn’t even serve to wake her up, by the way! That duty, instead, was inadvertently left to the (wonky-looking, paper-mache) child she had born while still asleep. Mistaking her finger for her breast, it sucked the cursed thimble right out of the afflicted finger by total accident!

Why would anyone bring their children here? If they weren’t traumatized by the attractions, the sub-par food, oppressive heat, and rude staff would surely make this a trip to (hopefully) forget!

And, more pressing to the brothers, why did their father love it so much? Neither of them thought much of him, frankly, both having had more pussy by age 18 than their Dad had had in his 45 years, but this certainly pointed to some…darker aspect of his nature that they had never even suspected existed before.

Maybe that’s why their Mother had called it quits with him, not wanting to indulge in whatever weird kinky shit he wanted to get up to in their bedroom.

Evidently, then, their mother’s new boyfriend, the father of one of their best friends, was not as adventurous, shall we say. Or maybe she craved a man with a bit more muscle on him. Or any muscle at all, really.

The separation between father and son(s) was not just in temperament or mentality. It was, above all else, physical. The boys were tall and strong, each breaking the six-foot mark in early puberty, while their Dad was short and scrawny. It was almost comical, the obvious discrepancy between their parents – their mother was so tall and elegant, like an ancient marble statue you find in a museum. It was enough to even make Sam and Rick wonder how their Dad had ever bagged her. Guess being High School Sweethearts goes a long way, huh?

The boys stared daggers at their father’s narrow, bony back, wishing he could experience their suffering, as he, oblivious and with a child-like look of wonder on his face, took in the story that was unfolding around them, despite the fact that he had obviously been on this ride (many, many times) before.

Sam and Rick realized something simultaneously, however: with their father seated ahead of them, they were free to use their own (old and lame) phones without his knowing. So they did, furiously picking up their respective text and DM conversations where they had left them off. Sam re-entered his friends’ Group Chat, while Rick went back to trying to court the “town skank.” Maybe a few more pictures of his cock would seal the deal. It had worked for his friends…

But then something curious happened. Sam and Rick found themselves, without verbal agreement, both putting their phones away only after a minute or two, opting instead to actually pay attention to the trip through myth and legend they had, against their will, embarked on.

The tail of the sturgeon-ferry paddled rhythmically as it ferried its occupants into the first scene, which seemed to take place in a quaint, provincial village, sometime in what their history teacher would have called “the Dim Ages”.

Sitting on the rim of a fiberglass fountain in the town square, a young man held his face in his hands, obviously crashing out

The male voiceover, tinny over unseen speakers hidden somewhere overhead, explained:
Once upon a time, a poor young lad found himself in a bit of a tricky predicament! He was officially a man, and therefore ready for marriage, but all of the women in his town were….homely!!!

With that, three more animatronics rose from a trapdoor in the scenery, and, as promised, they were indeed ugly (Sam and Rick hadn’t known what “homely” had meant, but they were just smart enough to use the context clues).

Each sported an exaggerated facial feature: One had an absurdly large nose, complete with brown wart with a single hair growing from it, and another had the protruding brow ridge of a Cro-Magnon. The one in between them was the most hideous of all, though – her ears were so large, they could probably make the hoe fly!

Sam and Rick could empathize, they wouldn’t want to take any of them to bed either, and neither were known for their discernment, especially when alcohol was involved.

Though neither would dare express it openly, they were both reminded of a particular incident, when, after a night of drinking and partying, they had woken to find themselves in the same bed – with a big fat redhead, naked, in between them! Yes, she was sort of pretty, but far too big for either of them to feel comfortable being seen with in public.

So they dashed out the door of her apartment before she could wake up, then diligently ignored all of her messages in the proceeding days (they couldn’t remember her name, but the amnesia was not mutual, apparently). They had dodged a number of bullets in the process: not only was the bitch fat, but, judging by the posters on the walls and the stacks of books she had lying around, she had been one of those Wiccan freaks too!

Along with the fact they had apparently engaged in a threesome with the porker, the entire incident was best left long forgotten.

They didn’t feel bad that they had cheated on their respective girlfriends, either, as it was far from the first (or last) time for both of them.

The recall distracted them: they didn’t notice that their knees no longer pressed against the front of the vehicle.

The boat made a gentle turn, and they were now inside of a small, humble cabin. The bachelor in question was having a conversation with his mother in the center of the room, a large woman with wide hips and a full face.

“There’s no question about it”, his mother explained. “You must pay a visit to the Witch of the Woods! My son deserves a comely wife, and only the Witch can provide!”

Sam and Rick didn’t notice that their hair had gotten longer, now reaching to both of their shoulders.

It had also started to redden; the new color shining in the reflection of the Day-Glo colors of the ride.

The ferry opened a set of black doors with its pointed snout, revealing an ominous forest. The boy looked around him anxiously, surrounded on all sides by bare trees with angry, human faces staring out of their trunks. Ahead, they could see the Witch of the Wood’s home, a great mushroom with a human-sized door embedded in it.

Hey, at least the fucker was a go-getter. They could respect that. That was basically what they had planned post-college: to get out there and hustle, son, fucking bitches and getting that money. They weren’t going to just content themselves with a mediocre-ass job like their nerdy faggot Dad had, leaving him with nothing but an ex-wife and two sons who didn’t respect him.
The brother’s clothes got tighter, as their previously flat stomachs, the product of countless hours at the gym, expanded outward. Their jeans too felt more constrictive, on account of their thickening thighs, ass, and hips.

Rick scratched his right nipple through his tank top. It itched as it pressed against the fabric.

They were now inside the Witch’s home.

The Witch, bent over a black cauldron, her colossal ass facing the kid, explained to him:

With tail of mermaid, horn of minotaur, and fang of dragon, I can make you a potion that will provide you with the bride you seek. But first, you must do something for me…

Freckles began to manifest on Sam’s and Rick’s faces, along with forehead wrinkles and crow’s feet.

The little ship made another gentle turn, and now they were in the Witch’s bedroom. Standing in the doorway, the Witch greedily gestured to the bed. The implication was clear: the young man was going to have to earn the potion by having sex with the Witch.

To Sam and Rick, this was hardly a price to be paid at all. The Witch was nice and fat, as a proper woman should be, so what was there to complain about? The only thing they worried about was whether the poor inexperienced clod could make her cum. The old gal deserved that, at least….

Now the lad was leaving the Witch’s mushroom home, glowing green potion in hand and whistling contently, the previously angry trees now all beaming smiles. The Witch even stood in the doorway, waving him a tearful goodbye. Guess he did give her an orgasm after all, they thought, as their jeans morphed into shorts, and the meaty thighs they encased lightened in color.
Another turn, and the boy was now back in his village, busily pouring the potion down the throat of another, smaller young man. The latter had apparently put up a fight, as the hero was angrily grabbing his balls through his pants to get him to open his stubborn mouth.
He found the most pathetic, woeful lad in his village, and forced the Witch’s brew down his throat.

Sam and Rick’s t-shirts had morphed into tank tops, their massive breasts resting atop their substantial bellies (they didn’t believe in constraining their blessed femininity with paltry things like bras or underwear).

But they approved of the young stud’s target: the weak should be dominated by the strong. And, by the looks of him, he wasn’t much of a “man” to begin with. Hel, he was doing him a favor: maybe now the pathetic cur might actually pass on his genetic line!

A new tableau: the protagonist stood with his arms crossed, a devious, frenzied expression on his face, watched as the retching model of his victim fell through a trapdoor in the stage. A beat, and a new figure took his place: a beautiful young woman, the resemblance to her prior form obvious.

Sam and Rick simultaneously rubbed their fat, pale, exposed arms. It was so cold in here it was giving them goosebumps, even if the story was “heating them up” in a different way!

They came now to the final scene of the attraction: the young man and young woman, in white robes and adorned with crowns made from twigs and flowers, stood before a rabbit-headed humanoid reading from a book that appeared to have been bound with bloodied human flesh, if the stretched, pained face on its cover was any indication.

The whole town was assembled around them in attendance, with the groom’s parents front and center, crying tears of joy.

Everyone in the village celebrated! Well, almost everyone…the bride’s parents did not approve, and thus did not attend. They weren’t missed, and ended up being “tied up” anyway…

Sam and Rick moved their long red hair out of their chubby faces, and noticed another little detail. In the upper right-hand corner of the wall, the Witch had been painted riding her broom, and behind her gargantuan hindquarters, they could just make out the forms of a man and woman tied together.

Served them right: who were they to get in the way of true love!?!*

What a joyous ending! But the ride was over, and Caitlin and Kylee awkwardly helped lift each other up from the small boat. While sitting it had been a comfort for their bodies to be so close together: prodigious hip against prodigious hip, love handles pressed together like lovers under the black Steppe sky. But it did make extracting themselves difficult.

Even their husband, Keane, had a hard time getting up, although, in his case, it was his big, tough gut that was the culprit, having been painfully pressed up against the front of the vehicle for the entire duration of the ride.

Exiting, Keane took his rightful place between the two sisters, putting a strong, callused hand around each of their thick waists. They exchanged a knowing glance over Keane’s broad chest – they loved when their husband made claim to them in public, breaking any number of their social taboos in the process.

Case in point, a skinny, young, swarthy bitch, of indeterminate race and wearing acid-washed jeans and a beige jacket that would have more been appropriate if it were 35 degrees cooler, noticed them, and quickly looked away to hide her near-involuntary look of disgust.

If only she knew the half of it, Kylee thought, not bothering to even try to stifle her laugh.

Kylee and her sister had laid with each other every night since they had met Keane at that kitschy medieval-themed hotel in Vegas 8 years (and 80 pounds) ago, despite never having had a single sexual thought about each other their entire lives prior.

But then Keane had walked up to them while they had been sunbathing by the pool, both of them eager to forget their ex-husbands, and, just a few hours later, there they were, back at his hotel room, Kylee with her tongue deep in Caitlin’s soaked vagina, as she stroked and played with her long, red hair. How sweet her juices had tasted that first time, no less intoxicating than mead!

It was Keane (also recovering from a messy divorce) who declared them to be his new wives as they lay naked in bed with him, still recovering from the marathon sex session they had just finished, a cheesy old painting of a wizard hanging above the headboard.

But that wasn’t the last of his commands that night, going on to demand that they stop dieting and dying their hair to hide the grey. They were done living within society’s limits, he said: they would, in their lifestyle, harken back to a more visceral, more primal age, when men were conquerors and women were conquered. When being fat was a sign of health and wealth, and the physical “ravages” of time evidence of one’s wisdom, and thus something to display proudly, instead of trying to desperately cover up with the simulacrum of youth.

In their late 30’s, they would be starting over, new lives in a new world.

And it was funny – the girls complied completely, never once even considering disobeying, even as they both ballooned past 250 pounds each, not to mention having to cut all ties with their former lives to hide the nature of their new relationship.

It hadn’t exactly been a clean break, though. Their parents had, somehow, managed to track them down, and had begged them to leave this sinful, “disordered” arrangement.

Not only had the sisters flatly refused, they then went on to explain that, not only were they bound, body and soul, to Keane, not only would they kill for him, but they would die for him, too, without any hesitation. And if he met his end before theirs, no doubt cut down in epic battle against his foes, they would gladly throw themselves on the funeral pyre, not able to stand even the thought of going on living without him.

Because it was like a fairy tale, you know? When Prince Charming comes along and scoops you up, only a fool would do anything to drive him away. Do you think Snow White ever denied the Huntsman anal, or that Rapunzel complained when her knight pulled roughly on her long hair while in the throes of ecstasy?

Hell no: when a gods-damned king enters your life, you bend to his will, not the other way around. And Keane was a King, at least as far as the sisters were concerned. In an earlier, more sane time, he would be the King of all, particularly the feckless “people” that surrounded them now, as they made their way to the next attraction, an iteration of Little Red Riding Hood. What else could you call a man who had the confidence to take identical twin redheads as his wives? As his Queens!

The only thing that the sisters wanted for now in the whole world were children. Thank the Gods they had never procreated with their previous husbands: they shuddered to think what kind of weak offspring those “men” would have sired!

But were they just too bountiful now to get pregnant? Keane had emptied his testicles in both of them countless times, never once deigning to use “protection”, and the girls had been off the Pill since that day at the hotel. So why had the tests invariably come back negative each time? They would like to have blamed it on the false idol of their so-called “science”, but the reality of their situation was impossible to ignore.

They had come to this park for a simple diversion to pass the day, Keane refusing to attend any of the more “commercial” parks in the vicinity (they smacked of “capitalism and desert religions,” he had said with utter disdain). This place was much more their style.

But they had an ulterior motive as well: to find the sacrifice they had been looking for, the offering they would make to their ancient fertility Gods to bless them with the miracle of life. Was the mutt bitch that had given them the dirty the one they had been looking for? If so, she hoped the Gods were willing to forego their usual preference for virgins!

*They would later debate, over a messy lunch of turkey legs, what their ultimate fates had been. Caitlin thought the Witch probably turned them into her new animal familiars (there hadn’t been any, she had noticed, back in her cute mushroom house), while Kylee argued that she most likely killed and ate them, as Witches were want to do. Keane, seeking to mediate, only said that he was sure that, whatever happened to them, it was assuredly an appropriate punishment for their crimes, seeing as the Witch had been such a just and righteous figure earlier in the fable.

Keane excused himself from their meal to use the bathroom, giving each of his lovers a deep, sensual kiss as a parting gift. He dared anyone to notice and confront him about it - he’d be using their skull as a serving cup at dinner that night.

Entering the man’s bathroom, he made sure to lock the door behind them. He needed the whole facility for what he was about to do.

Standing before the mirrors, he removed his clothes, and admired his new form. The giant arms, the thick, sturdy legs, the gargantuan belly tough with muscle and fat - it was perfect. And his genitals - he estimated his (still circumcised, regrettably) cock was at least 8 inches long (his phone had disappeared, and had no way to measure it), and his testicles had swollen to the size of tennis balls.

Strangest of all though, were the two sets of memories he now held in his mind. One, now blissfully irrelevant, was sure to wither and die in time. But there was one instance he would like to hold on to, when he had traveled to that foreign place in the midst of his divorce, seeking sanctuary and healing.

To the end, he had taken an hour’s drive to a famous Hot Spring, and hurriedly found a desolate spot within it where he could have some time to reflect on what had seemingly gone so wrong in his life.

Fate had other plans, however, and he was soon joined by a very fat, very tall Nordic man, who had emerged out of the mist like a ghost ship drifting the Northern Sea.

At first, Hank was annoyed that someone would intrude on his scheduled isolation like this. Maybe it was the relaxing atmosphere, or maybe it was the Stranger’s comforting manner, but Hank found himself easing up.

So they got to talking, just pleasantries at first at first, but soon Hank found himself telling the Stranger his entire life story, almost despite himself.

The Stanger listened patiently, and only offered a single question when Hank had finally ceased in his confession, small body trembling and almost on the verge of tears:

“Things didn’t come out like you had wanted it, didn’t it?” he asked.

It was true - he had grown up reading stories of barbarians and heroes, only to reach adulthood and find a “real” world that only valued weakness and femininity. That, in turn, had killed something inside of him, and he had allowed his own being to atrophy in bitter disappointment.

Even his wife - his ex-wife - was a perfect product of this upside-down universe he had found himself in: tall where she should have been short, small-breasted when they should have sagged under their colossal weight, and narrow-hipped when they should have been wide enough for her to comfortably rest the bounty of the day’s hunt on both of them.

She thought she had settled? No, he was the one he had settled. What he needed - what he deserved - was a fat, beautiful wife who worshipped the very ground he walked on. Not the hard-faced, skinny, “career” woman he had been cursed with.

He had expected the Man to admonish him, to chide him for being delusional and selfless. To lecture him that he should be grateful for what he had, even if what he had was an ex-wife who despised him, a dead-end job he couldn’t stand, and two ungrateful twin sons who didn’t respect him in the least.

Instead, the Man closed his eyes, nodded, and said, without a hint of sarcasm:

“Yes, it is hard for men such as you, born into an age that does not - could not – ever understand him.”

Hank could have cried. If they weren’t completely naked, he would have run up and hugged the Man.

“But there is a way to right these grave, grave wrongs,” he continued.

“In your homeland, there are places where the Old Gods - the True Gods - still hold power. One of these places looks like an amusement park. Go there, and find the diversion that tells a tale of rebirth and transformation. After you journey through it, you too will be changed - into the man you want to be, that you were always meant to be. And, if you happen to bring a woman with you - say, a common whore, which would be easiest - she too will be molded into the mate you desire.”

“What about my bank accounts, my job, my ID…”

The Man cut him off with a wave of a chubby hand.

“Trifles. Let it trouble you not - you and your companion will emerge into a new realm, where these mere details will have already been dealt with thoroughly.”

Hank should have dismissed the Man entirely. He was obviously insane. He should have left the Hot Springs – left this entire backward country entirely, and traveled back to the world he knew. The world of grocery shopping, of Netflix binge-watching, of Tinder and Bumble. But some part of him - the little Midwestern boy that had laid on his stomach those lazy weekend afternoons and devoured stories of pagan princesses and fierce warriors, believed him.

So much so, he was already plotting who he could take with him. The obvious choice was his ex, and it would certainly serve the cunt right.

But then he had another, better idea.

“What if I bring a guy with me?” he asked.

The Man looked at crossways and replied: “Why, do you want to be with a man?”

“No, I’m straight.”

The Man laughed heartily, his great stomach moving up and down with the rhythm of it.

“I knew I sensed some kinship with ye! Yes, if you take a man with you, that man will become the maiden of your dreams.”

“And if I take two men?”

“Then you will leave that place with two wives, and you will be amply equipped to handle both of them.”

“It doesn’t matter who they are? Like, if I’m related to them?”

The Man laughed again, even deeper this time, his ample balls raising out of the water. “Oh, I see what you’re getting at - no it won’t be a problem at all. In fact, if I know the Gods - and I do - I think they will be particularly pleased with your choice.”

Their conversation over, the Man turned and began walking back into the mist.

Hand called after him: “Hey, what’s the name of this place?”

“Just use your Internet-thing: when you find it, you’ll know! You have already been imbibed! Oh, and make sure to come visit someday! We’ll have dinner with my wife, my daughter, and her new husband. Mermaid, dragon, giant – we will serve you all such exotic meats like you will have never tasted!”

The fog swallowed up the man, leaving Hank alone and with a raging erection that he doubted would dissipate soon.

Back in the men’s room, Hank too had a hard-on, this time, though, he dared not spill his seed in vain. According to the tenets of his new (better, actually real) religion, that would be a grave affront indeed. No, it was reserved for those two beautiful women waiting for him outside.

They were no longer related to him, he knew, but they were still related to each other. He was married to twin sisters! His chest swelled with pride at the thought. Lesser men (and they were now all lesser) would kill for such a life.

And the fact that they used to be Sam and Rick….For a time, he had told himself that it was only practical, for how else could he convince two other men to come with him to this place? But, eventually, he admitted it to himself: he wanted it to be them. He knew what they said about him to their friends and girlfriends. The names they called him: faggot, nerd, pussy. All of their text messages had gone to his laptop, the result of some programming quirk that neither twin was smart enough to guess was being used to spy on them (they were much more intelligent now, he was pleased to see).

They hadn’t respected him then, but they sure as Hel respected him now.
As he put on his clothes again, he thought about the sacrificial ritual they had apparently planned for that night. The girls thought they were going to ensnare some hapless bimbo in the park, but he had had a better idea.

They had emerged, seemingly, into a new reality, but he suspected, in actuality, that not much had really changed at all. He had wondered before if he was going to be transported into a fantasy world of elves and dwarves, witches and wizards, but it appeared that things had mostly stayed the same: there was still just one sun and moon each in the sky, and people still drove cars instead of riding horses everywhere. It was possible, he thought, that Hank, Sam, and Rick might still exist somewhere out there, going about their tired, little lives, trapped in a planet-sized prison with invisible bars that glittered when they caught the light in the right way.

He hoped it was true, because it meant his ex-wife* was still out there, that she had still broken the heart of an innocent man.

It also meant he knew where they could find her, and the cocksucker she had run off with.

The banging had reached a cacophony. Keane walked over, unlocked the door, and thrust it open. The men on the other side, desperate to relieve themselves, had been readying themselves for a fight – of the oral variety only – with their offender, but when they finally see Keane, they demure, directing their gaze downwards, and making for him a hole. They knew, instinctively, to defer to their better.

Keane made his way through the crowd, and was pleased to see that none dared to make eye contact with him.

*His old ex-wife. He understood now that he had a second ex-wife, and that his sister-wives had their own ex-husbands as well, but they could deal with them later.