And Doc, of course, was not the only dwarf to penetrate her, although he was probably her most frequent lover. All the dwarves took turns with her, and, frequently, more than one would be enjoying her naked body, happily fed on the food she'd prepared, wearing the jerkins she had repaired, pushing into her vagina with penises of seven different sizes and personalities. Although Doc was slightly rough and crude, often taking his pleasure in Snow White's anus as well as her vagina, an entry initially tight and painful, he was probably the least bad of the dwarves. Although ill-informed and often crude, he had more idea than all the other dwarves put together as to how to put a girl at ease and how to treat her. The jerks of his pelvis at her vagina may have been mechanical and predictable, but at least he didn't slap her or slobber over her. After a while, Snow White was able to tell that it was him who was fucking her, even though she might have been distracted by another penis in her mouth or even another one pushing into her arse at the same time: quite a feat for such small people!

Sneezy was always rather brief and spasmodic: rather quickly loosing his weight of semen into her vagina while he was engulfed in a storm of sneezes. But Snow White preferred him fucking her, than running his tongue over her body, inevitably leaving a trail of snot and mucus wherever he had been. Just one of the many traces of sex and slobbery that Snow White would soon have to sponge off with icy cold water in the wooden basin. Sleepy was unenergetic, but sometimes succumbed to exhaustion in the middle of his exertions, his small frame collapsing onto her breasts, a thin trail of drool coming from his mouth. Happy lived up to his name: his penis was the largest of the dwarves, an attribute which made him inordinately happy. It was painful enough when he fucked her vagina, but when he forced it down her throat or up her arse, this was often pain she could barely endure.

These were the dwarves she minded least. Of the others, she wasn't sure whose lovemaking she disliked the most. Was it Bashful with his hideous birthmark that he insisted she lick with her tongue? Was it Grumpy, who was bad-tempered and impatient with her, frequently slapping her as he grunted away with his small penis trying to gain presence inside her orifices, his favourite of which being inevitably her anus? Or was it Dopey, from whose lip always dribbled a long drool of saliva, who fucked like an animal: viciously, unremittingly and eventually with an unpleasant release of semen which sometimes got her on the face, and in her eyes, and only rarely anywhere between her legs.

And she never knew when the dwarves would be finished. With so many of them, however exhausted she might be after hours of fucking there was always at least one who still had reservoirs of energy and semen to work out on her. The nights would go on for too long, her sleep caught in snatches between spasms of lovemaking, sometimes when blissful repose had finally come on her, and then another prick in her face or her arse. Her orifices were constantly sore and bruised and there was always a nasty bitter and sour taste in her mouth.

Her relief when the dwarves left to work in the early morning sunlight was compromised by the thought of the exhausting tasks she had in front of her. Washing up the dishes from the night before, preparing meals, chopping wood, gathering vegetables and mushrooms from the dwarves' garden plot, skinning rabbits and pheasants and occasionally boar, and, if there was time, dusting, cleaning and scrubbing the cottage. Often she was on her hands and knees, with a damp cold cloth and sweat pouring off her brow, her only comfort being her singing.

And worse was to come. She'd noticed that she was no longer having monthly periods, but in her naïveté she assumed that with so much sperm inside her it had simply blocked up her system, although she was still able to shit and piss, which she always did outside naked in the rain and snow where her ordure could be used as fertiliser for the plot, the laying of which she never relished. But then there was the swelling in her stomach which she knew for sure meant that she was pregnant. It was Doc who had to inform her how this had happened. Snow White was terribly innocent of the causes of pregnancy assuming that a girl needed the happy grace of marriage for this blessing of God's creation to be bestowed on her. When she learnt about the link between her nightly indignities and her changed condition this made her somewhat bitter about it, frightened that she would soon be the mother of another freak like one of the seven possible fathers.

Her state of pregnancy did not lead to a lessening of the dwarves' predation on her body. They didn't mind the swell of her stomach or the growing heaviness of her breasts. Indeed they frequently put their mouths to her large sore nipples in the hope that they would have a drink of the milk that would surely soon be emanating from them. And it only made her labours in the cottage harder to bear. The weight of logs and the heat of the kitchen fire became more painful burdens than ever for her to endure.

As more months were added to her pregnancy, Snow White became ever more desperate for a reprieve from her life of sex and servitude. She was miserable when she looked after the house, the added weight of her unborn child making her labours increasingly onerous. She was miserable when the dwarves came home, their rapacious sexual appetite not lessening while her own was diminishing yet further with the burden and discomfort of her gravidity. But every day as she pushed her broom, she would look out at the Spring sky, the birds frolicking in the warm rays of the sun, and sing to herself longingly that one day her prince would come.

However, the only visitor Snow White ever had since her first days at the cottage was a woman in her late forties wrapped in a black shawl, carrying a wicker basket in which there were several apples and pears. The dwarves were at the pit, and Snow White, naked as always, was pushing her broom across the uneven rocky floor. The woman put her head through the window, the shutters having been parted, and yelled across to Snow White "Would you like to buy some of my fruit, dear?"

Snow White looked up from the floor where her broom had been sweeping and smiled. The woman's voice was such a welcome sound after all these months. A trilling soprano sound, in such contrast to the gruff alto tenors of the seven dwarves. "I'd love to," she said, "but I have no money."

"Nor any clothes, I see," sniffed the middle-aged woman. "And this the first cottage I've come across in this accursed wood for many a mile. Would you be so kind as to let me rest my weary limbs before I go on my way?"

"Of course, I will," eagerly cried Snow White, unlatching the door and letting the woman in. She shuffled in, pushing back her hood to reveal a handsome chin and face, with long greying hair, a proud arch to her slightly ragged neck and the smallest trace of a wart below the curve of her lower lip. After seeing only small ugly men for so many months, just the presence of another woman was striking enough, but overwhelming everything else were the woman's piercing dark eyes which ever so slightly reminded Snow White of her stepmother. The woman sat down on a wooden stool, and placed her basket on her knees.

"My! You're a pretty girl!" she said approvingly.

"Thank you," smiled Snow White who got fewer such praises from the dwarves in recent months.

The woman studied the cottage, the small beds and small scale furniture and asked Snow White about her living arrangements, smiling sympathetically as Snow White spoke, nodding her head in encouragement and letting the tenor of her questions become increasingly personal. She was particularly interested in Snow White's account of why she was not allowed to wear clothes and of the dwarves nightly predations on her body.

"Such a beautiful girl!" she sighed sympathetically. "Aren't men cruel?"

"But they saved my life in the woods," protested Snow White. "Were it not for them, I might have been eaten by a wolf or a bear."

"Indeed you might," smiled the woman. "And the little men abandon you all day in the cottage. When do they return?"

"Not 'til after dusk."

"Is that so?" the woman said. "That is so many hours away. And it is such a warm day. I'm stifled by my shawl."

"Why not take it off," suggested Snow White helpfully.

"Indeed I shall," smiled the woman, parting her shawl at the front and letting it drop to the ground. As it did so, it revealed a fine handsome naked body underneath, with skin as ivory white as Snow White's own. Her breasts were heavy, but with maturity rather than micturation. Her stomach bulged slightly around her navel and her arms and legs were muscled and taut.

She stood up and grinned at the startled Snow White. "It isn't right that you should know only the attentions of despicable little men, who daily rape and besmirch you. What you need are the attentions of a woman."

"But that can't be right!" gasped the innocent Snow White, who in her life had never thought of such a thing.

"It is the most right thing in the world," the woman assured Snow White, striding over to the gravid girl, placing her hands around her shoulders and pushing her face close to Snow White's. "And for the pleasure it would give me to show that this is so, I shall gladly give you all my fruit."

Snow White looked at the apples and pears with greedy eyes. Although it was many months since they must have fallen off the Autumn trees, they looked succulent and firm. Her increased hunger, growing in direct proportion to her waist line, got the better of her reservations.

"I would gladly find out if what you say is true," she said with a timid smile.

The woman smiled again and pressed her lips and tongue against Snow White's mouth. And so Snow White did find that there was such a thing as a love which was more tender and to her more satisfying than any she'd had before. The feel of the woman's bare flesh against her own, the fingers that stroked and squeezed her vagina, the tender kisses and caresses on her face, her neck, her stomach and her lactating breasts. The two women fell onto the coarse semen-stained linen sheets of Snow White's bed, hands and arms and legs and feet intertwined, as their bodies sweated and struggled against each other, Snow White enjoying the sweet taste of her new lover's mouth, so much better than the foul odours that came from the dwarves, especially after they had been drinking or smoking. There was none of the painful penetration she so rarely enjoyed from the dwarves. Her anus was licked, and not poked. The two women's hair tangled together in sweaty dampness and intimate contact.

And then the two lay down on the mattress, while Snow White glanced guiltily at the abandoned broom, the unmade fire and the empty coal scupper. The woman gently ran her fingers over Snow White's sweaty body, following the taut curves of her stomach and the protrusion of her navel. She tenderly kissed Snow White on the forehead and above each eye.

"So this has been your first time with another woman," she commented. "Let's hope it isn't your last."

Eventually, and with great sadness and tenderness, the woman put her shawl back on, and departed, leaving Snow White as promised with all her fruit. Snow White sat on her bed, lost in emotion and confusion, idly eating the fruit, wondering whether in a perverse way the woman had been the prince that she'd so often wished would come along.

Unfortunately, the fruit was very much off-season, and only crude preservatives had kept them looking so fresh and wholesome. They also turned out to be quite poisonous, but Snow White was so lost in her thoughts and so ravenous in her hunger, that she didn't heed the warning signs from the foulness of their taste. It was not much later that she wished she had.

When the dwarves returned, after wading through the vicious storm which had broken out in the forest, they were tired and weary from their day's work and looking forward to their evening meal. They found no food waiting for them and instead discovered Snow White doubled up on her bed, shrieking in agony as the poison in the fruit took hold. In front of her was clear, foul-smelling vomit, but this was as nothing in toxicity and disgustingness as the stream of blood-flecked diarrhoea which was periodically convulsing out of her arse and mingling with the semen stains and sweat on her sheets.

The dwarves had absolutely no idea what to do, and it is likely that their unprofessional attempts at medicine and first aid merely added to the pain and distress that accompanied Snow White's last few days. She was soon buried outside the dwarves' cottage, taking her unborn child with her, soon to be only a distant and sentimental memory to the dwarves, whose cottage was even sooner restored to the untidiness and squalor it had been before they had met Snow White.

When finally a prince did come by, it was too late for Snow White, but it was probably just as well. It was only as a result of the various wars that wracked the lands that any prince would ever venture this far into the woods and then only for rapine and pillage. Which is what he and his soldiers did, burning the cottage, murdering the dwarves, ransacking their smallholding and stealing all that they could find of any value. When the prince left, the charred corpses of the seven dwarves behind him, all that was left standing was the crude cross which marked where Snow White lay.