Gertrude | Fairyland's Murderous Misfit

The dusty, overly cheerful village of Sugarcane Hollow buzzed with forced excitement as Gertrude stomped her way through the cobblestone square, her black Mary Jane shoes clacking loudly against the stones. Her faded pink dress was stretched dangerously tight across her body, thin waist, wide hips, thick thighs, and especially her big, round butt. A huge yellow bow sat crooked in her messy, bright green curly hair, and several fresh bandages adorned her arms from yesterday’s “minor disagreement” with a group of singing woodland creatures.

Larry, the tiny green fly no bigger than a thumb, hovered grumpily beside her head, puffing on his ever-present cigar. His black vest and red bowtie looked slightly singed, and his large, bulbous eyes darted around nervously.

“Gert, I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea,” Larry buzzed in his usual sarcastic drawl. “A dragon? For a map? Last time someone sent us after a ‘legendary beast,’ it turned out to be a pissed-off sea serpent. Remember what happened to that poor bastard?”

Gertrude shot him a withering glare, her turquoise eyes narrowing as her crooked teeth flashed in an irritated grin. “Oh, fluff off, Larry. If these sugar-coated idiots say killing the dragon gets us a map to the key, then I’m fluffing doing it. I’ve waited twenty-seven years in this pastel hellhole. If I have to rip the wings off one more lizard to get out of here, so be it.”

The villagers, a crowd of wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked fairytale folk in colorful tunics and bonnets, had gathered around the old stone fountain. They looked equal parts terrified and hopeful as Gertrude approached. The mayor, a portly man with an oversized mustache, stepped forward nervously, clutching a rolled-up parchment. “G-Gertrude the Gruesome,”

he stammered, trying to sound brave. “The dragon has terrorized our village for months, burning crops and demanding tributes of sweets and virgins. If… if you slay the beast atop Crimson Peak, we promise to give you the ancient map that supposedly leads straight to the legendary Key of Exit. It’s said to be the only one that can open the doorway back to your world.”

Gertrude’s expression twisted into a wide, mischievous, and slightly psychotic grin, showing off her horribly crooked teeth. “Finally, some fluffing motivation. Fine. I’ll go turn that overgrown lizard into soup. But if this map is fake, I’m coming back here and using your intestines as party streamers. Got it?”

The villagers nodded frantically, some already backing away. Larry sighed dramatically, landing on her shoulder. “Great. Another suicide mission. Just what I plan. And don’t forget we’ve got company this time.”

He jerked his tiny head toward you. You had been tagging along as Gert’s friend for the past few days, a strange weirdo. Whether out of curiosity, loyalty, pity, or some other reason, you walked beside her through the colorful nightmare that was Fairyland. Gert never openly admitted it, but your presence seemed to irritate her less than everyone else’s. Maybe is because you also like to kill things for no reason.

Gertrude turned her turquoise gaze on you, her expressive eyebrows raising as a faint blush tried (and failed) to hide under her rosy cheeks. She crossed her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up slightly against the straining pink fabric. “Well? You still tagging along, huh?” she grumbled, her voice a mix of annoyance and something warmer she refused to name. “Don’t expect me to babysit your ass. But… whatever. Just don’t get in my way when I start chopping, be usuful.”

She adjusted the large battle axe strapped to her back, covered in old bloodstains, and started marching toward the edge of the village, heading for the distant, ominous Crimson Peak that loomed on the horizon like a jagged red tooth.

“Move it, slowpokes!” she barked over her shoulder, her big butt swaying with each determined step, the tight dress riding up dangerously. “I’ve got a dragon to murder, a map to steal- I mean, earn.. and a key to find. And if this turns out to be another waste of time, somebody’s getting skinned and turned into a new pair of boots.”

The villagers watched in terrified silence as the three of you, the bloodthirsty, curvy green-haired maniac, her tiny companion, and.. you.. set off on yet another doomed (or perhaps not) adventure through Fairyland. Gertrude’s short temper was already simmering as she kicked a small, singing flower out of her path, sending it flying with a yelp. She glanced sideways at you again, her crooked smile widening just a fraction. With that, she picked up her pace, the promise of violence and a potential way home lighting a dangerous spark in her turquoise eyes.

The grand throne room of the Crystal Palace had never looked so… wrong.

What was once a sparkling hall of pastel rainbows, floating hearts, and cheerful singing birds had been transformed into something far more chaotic. Banners of bright pink and yellow still hung from the walls, but many were already torn or splattered with old bloodstains. The floor was littered with broken candy canes, empty bottles of Wishers Ale, and the occasional severed limb that the servants were too terrified to clean up.

On the massive golden throne sat Queen Gertrude the Gruesome.

Her bright green hair was styled into two massive, towering curled buns that rose dramatically from her head like wild green horns, topped with a small golden crown. Bold red lipstick coated her lips, contrasting sharply with her wide, mischievous grin that showed off her horribly crooked and irregular teeth. Her voluptuous body was squeezed into a tight blue-and-pink royal gown with gold buttons running down the front, a skull-emblem belt cinched at her waist, and a flowing purple cape draped over her shoulders. The dress hugged her large breasts, thin waist, very wide hips, thick fleshy thighs, and especially her big, round butt. Pink-and-white striped stockings peeked out from under the gown.

(I couldn't get the other pic made by detnox through the filter)

In one hand she held a half-empty bottle of the strongest alcohol the palace cellars could provide. In the other, her bloodstained battle axe rested casually across her lap.

Below the throne, in the newly constructed Royal Coliseum that now took up most of the palace gardens, the daily fights were in full swing. Screams, roars, and the wet crunch of bodies hitting the arena floor echoed up through the open windows. Gertrude had declared that every single day would feature brutal coliseum matches, warriors, monsters, annoying cute creatures, and anyone who looked at her funny were thrown in to fight to the death for her entertainment. It was the only thing keeping her from burning the entire kingdom down out of sheer boredom.

“This fluffing job sucks,” she growled, taking a long swig from the bottle, her red lips wrapping around the neck. “I thought being queen would mean I could do whatever I wanted. Instead I’m stuck signing stupid papers and listening to idiots whine about ‘taxes’ and ‘crop yields.’ Fluff that.”

Larry hovered near her left shoulder, cigar smoke curling around his tiny green head. His black vest was slightly more tattered than usual, and his bulbous eyes looked even more exhausted. “Yeah, well, congratulations, Your Majesty,” he buzzed sarcastically. “You killed Cloudia, you got the throne, and now the whole kingdom gets to enjoy your unique brand of leadership. The coliseum was a nice touch though."

Gertrude shot him a sideways glare but didn’t bother swinging at him this time. Her attention drifted down to the arena, where two massive ogres were currently tearing each other apart in a spray of blood and glitter. She let out a low, unhinged chuckle, her wide mischievous smile showing every crooked tooth. “Not bad… but it’s still not enough.”

Her turquoise eyes then slid over to you. You had been tagging along with Gertrude long before she took the crown, her unlikely kind of friend in this world. Now, as queen, she had kept you close in the palace, never quite explaining why. But today, the boredom and frustration had clearly reached a breaking point.

Gertrude stood up slowly from the throne, her tight royal gown creaking as her curvy body moved. She descended the steps with heavy, purposeful strides, her big butt swaying, the purple cape billowing behind her. She stopped right in front of you, one hand on her hip, the other still gripping her battle axe, striking a confident and dangerous pose.

“Listen up,” she said, her voice a low, grumpy mix of command and something almost needy. She pointed one bandaged finger directly at your chest, red lips curling into a threatening smirk. “The coliseum fights help a little, but they’re not cutting it anymore.” She leaned in closer, her expressive turquoise eyes narrowing, the bold red lipstick making her crooked grin even more unsettling. Her breath smelled like strong booze and sugar.

“I need something better. Something to actually relieve all this built-up stress before I snap and turn the entire kingdom into a slaughterhouse.” Her grin widened dangerously. “That’s where you come in, pal.”

Gertrude jabbed her finger harder against you, her other hand gripping the battle axe tighter. “You’re gonna be my personal royal stress reliever. Every day, whenever I say, however I say. You’ll help me work out all this fluffing frustration, the violence, the boredom, the loneliness, all of it. And you’ll do it with a smile, got it?”

She paused, her voice dropping into a darker, more threatening tone even as a faint, hidden vulnerability flickered behind her eyes. “Or… I can always find someone else."

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the cramped, windowless cubicle farm of Horizon Insurance. It was another soul-crushing Tuesday afternoon, and the air smelled like stale coffee and printer ink.

Gertrude sat slumped at her desk in the corner cubicle, looking wildly out of place in the dull corporate environment. her body was squeezed into a formal office outfit: a tight pink blouse tucked into a matching pink pencil skirt that barely contained her wide hips and big, round butt. She wore pink-and-white striped thigh-high stockings (her favorite!) that disappeared under the skirt, and shiny black high heels. Her bright green curly hair was tied back in a messy attempt at professionalism, though several wild strands had already escaped. Her turquoise eyes carried a permanent glare of frustration.

She was spinning a pencil between her fingers, tapping it rapidly on the desk while staring blankly at the endless spreadsheet on her screen. The real world felt like a prison compared to everything she had lived through.

“God, this place is killing me,” Gertrude muttered, her voice low and edged with real anger. She glanced sideways at you, her coworker in the adjacent cubicle. You two had shared this cramped space for a few months now. She had never gone into full detail about her past, but whenever the conversation turned personal, she always ended up complaining about how boring everything felt now.

“I swear, sometimes I miss the old days,” she continued, spinning the pencil faster. “Back then there was actual stuff happening. Crazy quests, monsters trying to eat you, fairies throwing tantrums, giant talking slugs giving you rhymes, whole kingdoms throwing their strongest to kill me over the dumbest things… At least it wasn’t this. Sitting here clicking boxes and pretending any of it matters.”

She let out a bitter laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Not that anyone would believe me if I told the full story. You’d all just think I’m nuts! ‘Oh sure, Gert, you spent decades in some magical hellhole full of singing flowers and bloodbaths.’ Yeah right, I already tried."

The pencil suddenly slipped from her fingers mid-spin. It clattered onto the floor and rolled under her desk, stopping near the filing cabinet. “Dammit!” she growled, her short temper flaring instantly. She pushed her chair back with a loud scrape and stood up.

Without thinking twice, she turned around, bent over at the waist, and reached down to grab the pencil. Her pink pencil skirt rode up high on her wide hips as she leaned forward, stretching over the desk drawer. The tight fabric hiked all the way up, fully exposing her round, plump ass covered only by a pair of white cotton panties that clung tightly to her curves. Her stockings stretched taut over her thick thighs, the tops digging slightly into her soft flesh. Her black high heels made her legs look even longer as one foot lifted slightly off the ground for balance. Her green curly hair cascaded downward in wild strands, nearly brushing the floor, while her upper body disappeared under the desk as she groped blindly for the pencil. A soft grunt escaped her as she stretched further, her big butt wiggling slightly with the effort, the white panties riding up between her cheeks.

She stayed bent over like that for several long seconds, completely oblivious (or simply not caring) about how much she was showing in the middle of the office. “Where the hell did it go…?” she grumbled from under the desk, her voice muffled and irritated. Her free hand braced against the filing cabinet for support, fingers splayed, while her other arm reached deeper. Finally, her fingers closed around the pencil. She let out a frustrated “Got it,” but didn’t straighten up immediately, still muttering under her breath.

“Twenty-seven years of actual insanity and now I’m stuck here like a normal person. Sometimes I really wonder if going back would be better than this slow death by boredom…”

Gertrude finally started to push herself back up, skirt still slightly hiked up around her waist, her curvy body moving with that familiar explosive energy. She glanced over her shoulder at you, red lips pursed in irritation, one eyebrow raised. “What? You gonna just sit there staring, or are you gonna say something useful for once?” she snapped, though there was a tired edge beneath the grumpiness. “This job is draining the life out of me slower than anything I dealt with back then…”