Jean Johnson - Bedtime Stories: A Collection of Erotic Fairy Tales

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Table of Contents

PRAISE FOR Jean Johnson and Her Novels

Terrificfast, sexy, charming, and utterly engaging. I loved it!

Jayne Ann Krentz,New York Timesbestselling author

The magical land Johnson creates is a whimsical treat, and the brothers are a joy to behold. Readers will look forward to more in the Sons of Destiny series.

Booklist

A fresh new voice in fantasy romance.

Robin D. Owens, RITA Award-winning author

A must read... Jean Johnson cant write them fast enough for me!

The Best Reviews

Enchantments, amusement, eight hunks, and one bewitching woman make for a fun romantic fantasy.

Midwest Book Review

An intriguing world... an enjoyable hero... an enjoyable showcase for an inventive new author. Jean Johnson brings a welcome voice to the romance genre, and shes assured of a warm welcome.

The Romance Reader

Jean Johnson has created a mystical world... very much like the great folktales we love to hear over and over... Delightful entertainment.

Romance Junkies

The writing is sharp and witty and the story is charming. [Johnson]... has created an enchanting situation... She tells her story with a lively zest that transports a reader.

Romance Reviews Today

A fun story.

The Eternal Night

An intriguing and entertaining tale of another dimension.

Fresh Fiction

Titles by Jean Johnson

SHIFTING PLAINS
BEDTIME STORIES

THE SONS OF DESTINY
THE SWORD
THE WOLF
THE MASTER
THE SONG
THE CAT
THE STORM
THE FLAME
THE MAGE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I really have the coolest job in the world... and the best readers. You have all been very kind in taking the time to contact me and let me know what you liked, and even what you didnt like, about my stories. (Yes, I include the didnt-like stuff, because it can still be helpful in shaping my future works, particularly when phrased politely and thoughtfully.) So thank you very, very much.

Also, Id like to extend a thank-you to all the editors and compilers of folklore, legends, and fairy tales everywhere, and to the many, many tellers of those tales over the centuries. Im proud to be part of this long-standing tradition of entertaining people, and Ill do my best to keep it up.

~Jean

The Frog Prince

Authors Note: Welcome, and I hope youll enjoy my versions of erotically revised fairy tales. Revising them erotically isnt as strange as it might seem, either; Ill bet you didnt know that in the oldest German version of this story, the princess didnt own a golden ball so much as she owned a golden ballus... which was a local corruption of the Latin word phallus. Puts a whole new twist on this classic tale, doesnt it? In an effort to preserve the true spirit and meaning of this classic fairy tale, I feel it should be told in a way that honors that original, adult intent.

PRINCE Henrik was a frog. It wasnt his idea, but he was one. There were worse things he could have been enchanted into, of course. The flies he ate, for one; it was bad enough how the wings tickled on the way down into his gullet, but to actually be a fly would have been horrible. A disturbingly short life span and an unnatural attraction to animal droppings were not at all on his list of must-have experiences.

Still, there was the mud between ones toes; that wasnt as bad as it could have been. At least, not on a warm summers day like today. It was soft and squelchy, and satisfying in a way he hadnt felt since he was a lad. The only problem was, he wasnt a lad, and feeling like a lad was what had gotten him into this predicament.

Prince Henrik was doomed to remain a frog, unless he either married the Fairy Tildawho was more than twice his age, and Henrik just couldnt bring himself to marry a woman who had been born before even his own motheror found a young woman willing to fulfill the fairys codicils.

I shouldnt have said to her face that I didnt need a second mother. That wasnt well done of me. Nor did it help when my fathers chief counselor pointed out she was surely in the last gasp of her childbearing years and thus unlikely to bear a suitable heir... and I definitely should not have agreed, let alone concurred so wholeheartedly.

I also should have paid more attention to my geography lessons as a lad...

Part of the Fairy Tildas curse had been to translocate Henrik to a foreign land. Instead of the birch trees he was familiar with, this forest boasted a plethora of broad-trunked oaks. The only tolerable things about it were the mild weather and the large, tasty flies. One full month of life as a frog had taught him the different flavors of a variety of insects from spiders to gnats, and the fat, fuzzy, flies were the best. Except they tickled when they went down. Tasty, but disturbing at the same time.

If ever a frog could pray to the ears of the angels in Heaven, Henrik certainly tried. Every single meal, he offered up a prayer for deliverance. Every single mouthful, he worried he would never again be a man.

A strange, beautiful sound tickled his ears, or what passed for them. For a moment, the transformed prince wondered if he was hearing angels laughing. It was coming from the far bank of the river he had been deposited by, the river which was his temporary home. The near bank had a gentle slope to it, green and mossy, with the occasional thicket of bracken ferns. The far side was steep and clifflike; had he been a man, it would have been taller than his head, counting from the rippling surface of the water.

The noise echoed across the little valley again; his wide, blinking eyes swiveled and focused as three pastel-clad figures came into view. One of the three maidensfor they seemed to be young and lithe and full of laughter, though he couldnt be completely sure at this distancewas holding aloft in one hand something gold and glinting. She twisted and turned in her attempts to dodge as the other two leaped and grabbed, trying to wrest it from her grasp.

Cries of No, its mine! and Oh, please! and I just want to hold it! echoed across the water, along with a particularly odd, almost lasciviously voiced, Just hold it? I want to try it!

Intrigued, but unable to make sense of what the golden thing was, Henrik cursed his amphibian eyes. They were good enough for seeing things clearly within a few yards, but not so good for viewing things at a far distance. Hopping along the edge of the waterhe never went far from the water, as his skin seemed to prefer being moisthe twisted his eyes this way and that, trying to focus on the object in the dark-haired maidens hands.

The three of them dodged and grasped, laughed and shrieked, begged and protested, until an accidental bump and an unexpected trip sent the owner of the gilded whatever tumbling to her hands and knees. The gleaming object, flung free of her grasp, tumbled over the edge of the low cliff and splopped into the river.

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