Tender - A Disney-esque Adventure for Adults

Chapter 2

Hi!  If you're still with me - thanks!  I know most of my readers are hanging out for Erotic Island 2.0, but that's a while off.  I'm still going back and forth with ideas for this one, but after this chapter, the characters are coming to life on their own, as they do in stories that are mean to be told, as if I'm uncovering a story rather than creating it.  When that happens, I know I'm on to a good thing, so if you voted, thank you!  I'll move forward with Tender in between bouts of 30 Lays.  Now, Misty is lying in an animated cornfield - how is an emotionally sensitive girl supposed to deal with that...?

I must have sat in the puddle for half an hour, stunned, trying to understand.  Part of me was waiting for the world to suddenly right itself; perhaps the colours would rain themselves away and underneath, the real, drab world lay concealed.  The glowing gold corn hid the busy street and the large oaks in the distance were disguising the high-rise buildings.  Any second now, it’s gonna be okay.

But it wasn’t.  It just kept raining and I got wetter.  The gorgeous animated world was sticking around, apparently.

And so was my sense of touch.  Although I had already begun to filter much of the sensation out, I was still receiving signals from every drop landing on my skin.  I felt like a pin cushion.

It makes sense, really.  Obviously, I’d been knocked unconscious by the accident, and my traumatised brain had dumped me straight into the world I’d just been evicted from, even going as far as endowing me with the Unnamed Princess’s power of sensitivity.  It was quite an impressive feat, if I really considered it.

“So, now what?” I asked no one.  “No point staying here, is there?”

No one answered, and I decided to move.  Standing proved difficult; not because I was injured in anyway.  Actually, I seemed fine.  Other than feeling quite breathy, which could have been my tightly strapped corset, I bore no signs of the taxi-collision.  Thank you, brain.

Nope, standing up was hard because of my voluminous skirts.  The purple material was weighted by the rain, and the multi-layered fabric acted like an inflatable sumo suit, making me cumbersome and slow.  How on earth do women get anything done in these?

Finally upright, I could see a dirt track running parallel to the corn field.  It seemed like a better option than trudging through the stalks, so I headed for it.

As I walked through the stones and mud, I realised I hadn’t even looked at my feet yet.  Taking an extra-large step so my foot peeped out from under my skirts, I looked down at the tiny purple ballet flat, with ribbons lacing up my ankle.  For the amount of walking I had to do, they would work.

Something weird is happening…  The beautiful landscape flowed around me as I strode along the track in the rain, sunlight breaking through in places, everything green and lush, inspiring me to… sing?  Hmm…

I’d always sung; it was the biggest part of me.  My emotions controlled me so much as a child, a counsellor had recommended my parents find me an outlet.  Song helped.  There’s something indescribable about music, the ability to express the unspeakable, to transcend ordinary words.  I took to it like a hippo to mud, wallowing in my new love, inflicting my ability on anyone I could get to listen.

That was cute as a six year old, but when I hit my teens, I realised people don’t like being sung at loudly, unless they’ve paid for it.  I dedicated myself to the musical theatre scene, starting in amateur companies, composing a massive list of perfect roles on the stage; Christine, Kim, Nala, Roxy, Eponine, Elphaba, Maria.  When I’d accomplished them all, I started going after others in the same shows, Fantine, Galinda, Velma.