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(cracked actor)
08/07/01 09:28 AM
Twister's Labyrinth Fiction (kept) new  


Most guys think they know how to masturbate. While it's true, of course, that most guys are familiar with the ins and outs of the situation, no mortal could ever truly know how to masturbate. Even if a guy spent every waking second of the day experimenting with himself, as well as occasionally scaring conceited girls at bus stops, he would still never really know how to bring himself to states of pleasure that are available through that particular organ. It comes with the territory. Create mankind, and only give them an average of seventy years to live, they'll never really develop any sense of what one can achieve taking matters into their own hands. Jareth, on the other hand, had been alive close to three thousand years. If you want to know the real deal with Jesus H. Christ, he's the one to ask. If you want to feel like your entire life has been one tiny insignificant drop in an inconsequential universe, he's the one to talk to. More importantly, he's had plenty of time to learn all those secrets about masturbation that can make your eyes pop out, and break windows from fifty paces.

There are so many details your average man has neither the time, imagination of effort to care about. Where the fingers are placed. Cutting your fingernails. Knowing the circumference, radius and exact locations of certain spots some men may never know exist, and the exact friction with which rubbing brings greatest pleasure. The level of moisture the hands should exist with. Whereabouts one should prod one self during orgasm to heighten the sensation. Which particular dental hygiene product should be smeared on one's testicles. There are five million, seventy-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven things a guy can do to make masturbation more enjoyable, and Jareth knew most of them. If he ever offers to give you a hand-job, just say no. The rest of your life will be a meaningless experience from the point forwards. Though some people may argue it would be worth it. If Jareth ever wrote a book detailing all these secrets, the economics of the world would collapse. Every man in the world would retreat to the comforts of his home, and feel like they've wasted their lives up to that point and have no intention of wasting it any longer. They would, in theory, forget to eat, but luckily various foodstuffs are used throughout the book, and while it usually wouldn't be considered hygienic to eat these foods afterwards, these men would all be too busy to worry about such trivial things.


As the teeny, tiny specks of water came out the shower nozzle, Sarah locked the bathroom door and began to undress. She always had the uneasy sensation of being watched when she was naked. She had experienced this since she has first developed those feminine squidgy bits men love so much at the age of twelve, and had chalked it down to a basic human paranoia, and a lack of confidence with her sexuality. Well, that, and the fact her bathroom curtains had a rather severe tear in them. She had taken to hanging sheets on the inside of the curtains, on the off chance that anyone could see in they'd get an eyeful of sheet, instead of yummy goodness. Her stepmother had told her that she was very conceited, and that no one could see through that window at such a height at any rate. Sarah had stormed off in a tantrum, at the time, locked herself in the room and shouted "it's not fair" a whole lot. This wasn’t a very rational thing to do, but then Sarah wasn't a very rational person.

As Sarah stood there in her underwear, she tried to pluck up the courage to whip it all off and get in the shower. This was when the paranoia was the strongest. Once she got over it, and removed her undergarments it was always something of a relief. The paranoia was still there, of course, but more as a relaxed, general uneasiness, then what she was experiencing now. The current paranoia was like being the focus of the whole world. She half expected pictures of herself to turn up in tabloids, the paranoia was so great. Of course, they never did, but the fact that nothing had gone wrong up 'til now, was only a sign that it was going to happen.

She unfastened her bra, and carefully placed it on the pile with the rest of her clothes. She held an arm in front of her breasts as a ward against the paranoia, then cursed her own stupidity for doing so. She put her arms firmly by her side as a stand to herself not to let fear rule her life. She slipped what was left off, and the pile increased slightly. Naked as the day she was born, but significantly larger, and a whole lot more desirable, she stepped into the shower, and allowed the warm water to massage her skin in a futile attempt to ease her paranoia. Before long she picked up the soap and started washing her arms.


Jareth sat in his room, gazing into his crystal ball. He knew he had gone about earning Sarah's love the wrong way some months earlier. You can't just throw your balls in someone's face and offer them their dreams, it doesn't work that way. He knew that now, but it mattered very little anyway. If he had won her, well, then what? Sure, so he'd have a whole lot of sex, but he'd also have to put up with her incessant whining about how unfair everything was. Yes, she was beautiful, but if he'd won her she would cease to be the beautiful girl of her dreams, and she'd become the bitch who kept complaining about how fat she was, despite how obvious it was she was prefect. Besides, he knew she hadn't had as much practice with the male member as he had himself. True, his was the only one he'd ever touched (although malicious scandals, mostly started by a swamp troll named Angelina, had claimed otherwise), but still - he'd touched his own member much more often than Sarah had even speculated about such things. He made a much better lover to himself than she ever could.

She was in the crystal ball before him, and as per usual was pausing when down to her underwear. Jareth felt quite guilty about watching her sometimes. This girl had actually put up a sheet across the curtains, despite the fact no one could possibly see through them, and here he was taking advantage of situations she couldn't possibly help. After a while he'd simply decided, what the hell. His focus on her was at it's most intense when she was in her underwear. He always worried that she might, for some reason, wind up putting her clothes back on and doing crosswords instead of getting nice and clean, like every good girl should. The more she paused, the more he focused. The more he focused, the more she paused. Eventually though, she always gave in. Mortals have always had great defence mechanisms which will allow them to deny things to themselves that they know be true. Jareth believed deep down in her paranoia she knew him to be watching, and with this he justified his voyeurism. This goes to show mortals aren't the only ones capable of deluding themselves.

Jareth began removing his tights. She was still in her underwear at this point, and he didn't plan on starting anything until she was getting good and frothy, but those tights could be tricky to get off, and so he decided to get a head start. Jareth had always prided himself on having such a large prick. It helped boost the confidence he'd lost by only being able to afford a relatively small chariot. Before long Sarah was cleansing what religious mothers might possibly refer to as "dirtypillows", and Jareth was visualising himself being there with her, intent on making them dirty again. At this point Unka came in. Unka was a goblin. Unka didn't like being a goblin. Being a goblin meant you had to have a stupid name. Unka did, however, like working for Jareth. Unka, along with some of the other goblins of a less-than-hetero approach to sexuality had learned to time their collections of laundry to coincide with Sarah's showers. The sight of Jareth in tights had long ago cemented in them the desire to catch him with them down, and once they cracked the times of when he was likely to be up to mischief, they never missed an opportunity. Jareth quickly jerked to one side, so as the shooting semen wouldn't smash the crystal ball in a billion itty-bitty pieces, and instead it wound up catching Unka on the forehead.

"Terribly sorry", Jareth lied, without conviction.

"Don't mention it", Unka replied, trying to sound annoyed but barely able to hide his elation. He wiped the semen from his head, and tried to discreetly keep it in a safe place for later oral sampling.

"She will be mine one day, you know", Jareth said, gesturing to the crystal ball. Not that he had much of a desire to speak to Unka, but everyone knows villains love to brag about accomplishments they have yet to even achieve.

"Oh yes, sir? How can you be so sure?" asked Unka, barely able to hide the disappointment at his master having made such a heterosexual statement.

"Because this is Labyrinth fan-fiction, you dolt!" came the reply, "have you ever read one in which I didn't bag the slut?"


I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.

Edited by Sysiyo on 06/23/04 07:09 AM (server time).

Echoes Of A Fairy
(cracked actor)
08/07/01 10:15 AM
Re: Twister's Labyrinth Fiction new [re: twister]  

In reply to:

"Because this is Labyrinth fan-fiction, you dolt!" came the reply, "have you ever read one in which I didn't bag the slut?"

Nice line. Unfortunately not true though, since I for one have read many Labyrinth fan fic stories with nooo Sarah in 'em at all...
....oh, never mind.

~I was an Artiste~

(cracked actor)
08/07/01 11:02 AM
Virtually Offended new [re: Echoes Of A Fairy]  

In reply to:

Unfortunately not true though, since I for one have read many Labyrinth fan fic stories with nooo Sarah in 'em at all...

Wow. I'm genuinely surprised. I haven't actually read any Labyrinth fiction, beyond what Coan Teen's wrote so far, so I didn't have a lot to go on.

Don't you think maybe you're read maybe just a smidgen too much Laby fiction, SPF?

I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.

(crash course raver)
08/07/01 12:45 PM
Our Sarah is a clean teen! new [re: twister]  

In reply to:


Oh, be careful what you promise, comfortable laddy. Those words can become such a burden -- believe me!

This was thoroughly revolting in spots. However I loved the cliff-hanger line. Now you have a standard of merrity to maintain.

Final tip: spend more time discussing the nubile Sarah's shower habits. The gay troll makes for rotten lunchtime reading.

I strive to be brief, and I become obscure. ~Horace~

(crash course raver)
08/07/01 12:50 PM
Re: Twister's Labyrinth Fiction new [re: twister]  

OMG! This is soooo gooood! Please write some more. Soon. I can't WAIT to hear what happens to Sarah and Jareth. And Jareth's tights.

PS - p2c How DARE you show your face in this forum without adding another chapter to your story!

This monster beauty is not eternal. - Apollinaire

(cracked actor)
08/07/01 01:09 PM
Chapters 4-7 new [re: twister]  


Michael was a fourteen-year-old boy. Like all fourteen year old boys he was an annoying brat, that should have been locked away in a cellar somewhere and given a porno mag and a couple of years in which to mature. Unfortunately, the RSPCC object to such forms of raising children, and as such his parents had no choice but to let the boy loose to annoy the world at large. The worst thing of course, about fourteen year old boys, is their ability to make slightly older boys be reminded of what complete and total twats they used to be. Michael would have taken great pride in this ability, had he been aware of it, but of course, being a fourteen year old boy he was only aware of three things. Football, food and masturbation. Some people think boys this age should be better at such activities than even Jareth, given their natural wanker-ishness, however, such people are wrong. Of course, some boys are having sex at the age of twelve and younger, but Michael was not one of these boys. The only chance you stand as a fourteen-year-old boy is finding a girl who doesn't realise what a complete and total twat you are. Luckily, at this age the girls of your affections tend to be over-ran by hormones, and hormones can over-ride such things as common sense, and the smell of boys only just discovering deodorant. When hormones don't quite do the trick one tends to top it up with cider. Michael had yet to find a girl whose hormones were bouncing in his direction, and he was cursed with the plague of many great people - a conscience. No getting girls drunk and on the sofa for this boy, nosireebob. No, he'd wait until he found someone who genuinely cared for him and would sleep with him because they wanted to, not because they were too intoxicated to stand up.

Until that day he would just stick to cheap porn videos and compulsive masturbation, waiting patiently for the day someone would invent the internet so he could pretend to be a lesbian, and masturbate while talking to other men pretending to be lesbians in lesbian chat rooms.


It was Sarah's fifteenth birthday. She'd managed to convince her dad and step-mum to spend the night elsewhere. It had been a lot easier than she'd expected. She mentioned the idea, and they jumped straight to it, muttering something about motels, and something about not having to worry about keeping the noise down anymore. They took all the whipped cream. Sarah had wanted to ask them to leave some whipped cream behind because, well, she happened to like whipped cream, but there's an unspoken rule among teenagers that you don't ask your parents to leave home for the night and then ask them to leave the whipped cream. That kind of thing can give the wrong impression.

Sarah was depressed. Of course boys, without exception, were thoroughly stupid creatures, who couldn't be trusted. If they thought they could get a blowjob by saying they love you, they will. If they think you'll sleep with them if they act like nice people when you're around, they will. Objectively thinking, one could say that this is actually thoroughly clever behaviour, but Sarah was in no mood for objective thinking, and boys were stupid.

But she still wanted one. Maybe not one to keep, but she definitely wanted some sex. Of course, this was a horribly slutty thing to feel, right? Sex was supposed to be a consummation of love, not some physical act done like animals for gratification... right? Sure, boys were stupid creatures only interested in one thing, but she was pretty interested in that thing herself, so where was the harm? She felt confused, and thought maybe a shower might help, but the idea of the paranoia kicked in, and she had no intent of facing it right now.

She was to have a party that night. Birthdays are good excuses for parties. There would be boys there.


In the privacy of his own room Unka wiped his finger inside his pocket, and retrieved a foreign substance. He licked it tentatively. He gave it a moment's consideration.



The party went the way parties of this nature always went. Everyone get very drunk. A few of the guys got very naked. Asking the kind of girl who attends these parties "Have you ever been propositioned by a naked boy incapable of standing?" would be the equivalent of asking the sun: "Hey, are you a star?" None of the girls would get naked of course, they were altogether a much too intelligent creature for that, but when pressed those that were hungry for the attention would expose their breasts to the inferior male creatures. The thought process went something like this:
Female: Let's show these dim-witted creatures the treasures they shall never partake in.
Male: Woah, tits!

Sarah was drunker than most. She had resolved that she was going to satisfy the unnatural urge for sex, and in order to be willing to fulfil that urge with one of the unwashed miscreants at this party she guessed quite correctly she'd need to be rather drunk. She scanned the room for a likely candidate. She immediately ruled out the boys that had got naked. It's a remarkable curio that boys this age seem to genuinely believe the sight of their over-weight under-endowed bodies will reduce the female population to a quivering frenzy of desire, when in actual fact they're just crossing themselves off every girl's "to do" list. She ruled out the stoners in the corner on the ground that if they did dope they were likely to do heroin, and if they did heroin they were likely to have diseases. This was of course gross over-generalisation, but Sarah, being a fifteen-year old girl always over-generalised. It's a well-known fact that all fifteen-year old girls over-generalise at every given opportunity.

Then she saw Michael. His hair was less greasy than most, and it was slightly overgrown. The slight over-growth in itself hardly made her ache with desire, but it certainly made him stand out from the crowd which consisted of type A: those that follow fashion, and type B: what's a hairdresser's? Michael was a definite possibility. Sarah knew he was a virgin himself, and as such she wouldn't feel like a conquest. His teeth were, well, one couldn't be so pushed as to say "clean", but certainly less yellow than the rest of the boys. Sarah realised she'd been staring at him for some time now, and he was starting to look nervous. She didn't feel ready. Of course she didn't, she barely knew the guy, let alone trusted him enough to share that first sexual encounter with him. There were two viable options. One: Get very, very drunk, or two: back down and wait until you find the love of your life, and then give yourself to him, and know it's all the more special that you've waited so long and you love each other more than life itself.

She tossed a coin.


I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.

(wild eyed peoploid)
08/07/01 01:50 PM
Re: Cahpters four through seven new [re: twister]  

I've read a lot of Labyrinth fanfic and never a finished one. Keep at it. It's getting pretty good.


Turn and face the stranger!

(grinning soul)
08/07/01 02:27 PM
Re: Cahpters four through seven new [re: twister]  

My god. Your work needs to be published! It's fantastic. Keep up the good work... and write faster!

"Porridge... we'll eat porridge." *smacks lips*

(cracked actor)
08/07/01 03:03 PM
Chapters 8-10 new [re: twister]  


Jareth was feeling bored out of his mind. Despite common belief we has not, in fact, immortal. Nor was he, despite the title of "Goblin King" a goblin. Technically, he wasn't a king either. He didn't see the point in labelling himself, and seen as every bloodline in every family, in every world gets pretty watered down in the end he didn't see how anyone else could either. Sure, lots of people think they're human, but if only they knew just how often their great great grandmother had been impregnated by dogs, then they wouldn't be so sure. Not just dogs. Horses, elephants, French people, all kinds of disgusting creatures. It wouldn't have surprised many to find out Jareth had a large does of elven blood in him, though he also had mortal blood, and many other species involved in his genetic make up he didn't even know about. Some believe he may be related to Tina Turner, but that's probably just a vicious rumour.

Jareth was sitting in a chair in an open courtyard, his legs swung casually over one side. One might note the boredom on his face and feel sympathy for this creature who's most likely to live another three thousand years alone. But one would be more likely to stare at the bulge in his tights and wonder if he doesn't realise they're a bit on the tight side. Since the whole Sarah thing hadn't worked out his life had been at something of a stand still. He'd considered stealing some more babies, but frankly he didn't need any more goblins around the place. Besides, some older sibling who looked four years older than she really was would only come and rescue him, and become the focus of Jareth's repressed sexual desires. Jareth knew sequels that follow the exact same plot as the original are best avoided, so he had no desire to do the same things again.

Jareth jumped to his feet, in a motion likely to have caused friction burns in the area of the tights likely to get the most focus by half the population of the world. He grabbed a rather cute muppet (sorry, a rather hideous goblin), by the scruff of the neck and flatly asked it: "What d'you do when you're bored?"

As if by magic, which it almost certainly was, a beat started in the background...

"How bored?"

"Bored enough to cry."

"Cry why?"

"Cry through boredom."

At this the muppet/goblin paused to think. As he responded the beat immediately died. Goblins aren't always the brightest creatures, and it can be hard to expect someone to spontaneously know what to say to set you up for a song.

"Well, I go for walks, sometimes. I quite like to play chess. And sometimes, if you're fast enough, those chickens are excellent for--"

Jareth clamped his hand over the goblins mouth:

"I urge you not to finish that sentence."

As Jareth's hand came away, the goblin finished it.

"Eating, your majesty. The chickens are excellent for eating".

Jareth put him down, and left in search for intellectual stimulation.

"That was close. For a minute there I thought you were going to blow the whistle on our chicken fucking!", chimed in a second goblin.


Vodka. Lots. That was. That was lots. That was a lot of lot of lot of vodka. Sarah felt like the room was, well, not exactly spinning, more like flexing and contorting as if it wasn't sure exactly what shape it was meant to be. The people all seemed so strange to Sarah. Let's go back into Sarah's mind a bit, shall we?

People. Strange people. Looking at me like, like, like, like. Strange people. My head's shaking. People. Couples dancing. Couples kissing. I'm so alone. I'm shaking. Lots of vodka. Stop looking at me. Michael. Michael.

She approached Michael, and he smiled uneasily at her. She took his hand and spoke. She sounded half-dead.

"Come with me".


Jareth sat in front of the chessboard, on the cold stone floor. The game wasn't doing anything to relieve his boredom. It gave him peculiar thoughts. There was something about knights taking bishops that didn't quite sit right with him. If the bishops were consenting that would be fair enough, but for a knight to move in a funny L shape, and take the bishop without warning, it wasn't right, not right at all. The game enforced unfair sexual stereotypes also. While the queen could go as far as it wanted, the king could only go one small step each turn. It seemed so unfair that the game should enforce such racial differences also, forcing the whites to rage war on the blacks every game. Couldn't there have been white and black soldiers on each army? Not to worry, he thought. It's only a game of course, he knew.

He moved his rook three spaces horizontally, putting the other army in check. Then he turned the board around to try to get out of it again.


I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.

(electric tomato)
08/07/01 04:56 PM
Re: Twister's Labyrinth Fiction new [re: twister]  

you're a funny guy..

but it's obvious you hadn't read much serious fic, becuase serious fic is usually naughtyer.

he started drinking coffee, too much sugar on the go... he fell dead on the floor, he thought the coke was sweet 'n' low!

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