WARNING: This story contains graphic violence, nudity, and non-consensual F/M sexual situations. It is most definitely intended for, and should only be read by, mature adults, over the age of twenty-one.

Author's Note: There are a great many orphaned segments and abandoned works on my hard drive, that were never completed. Rather than discard them entirely, I will post some, AS IS, in a series of Miscellanea. Completed text will be included, but nothing additional, except an explanatory note or transitional sentence, here and there. Many pictures are raw Poser images that I would normally complete in a paint program, for fully finished stories. Such pictures often lack eyebrows, hair on head, and genitalia details, completed clothing, and sometimes have distorted limbs. Some pictures and sequences may be repeated in different segments with some costume alterations, because I had given up one story idea, to try another.

Ophelia cries, "C'mon Mama's boy, let's mix it up!" (It is this passage, most certainly a later interpolation, that has caused some scholars to question the authenticity of the Fletcher papers.)

Ophelia scornfully leaps upon Hamlet, snarling seductively like a tigress in heat. Hamlet discovers Ophelia to be as skilled a grappler as she is a fencer. Humiliatingly out wrestled by the lovely Ophelia, Hamlet calls out to Horatio for aid. When Horatio seeks to intervene Ophelia lays him low with a perfectly aimed kick to the groin. Some of the poison from Laertes blade has dripped down upon the toe of the maiden's dainty slipper, and Horatio does not rise again, EVER.

Hamlet taking advantage of the interruption, seeks to scuttle to safety, but Ophelia pounces upon him from behind.  A moment later, Ophelia catches her former betrothed in a neck scissors. As she locks her excitingly formed legs, Ophelia's tormented mind finally falls victim to the strain.

Sitting on the floor, Hamlet's neck locked implacably between her white, womanly thighs, Ophelia absently pulls a flower from her hair and sings a happy little song, as she tears off the petals of the flower. As Ophelia slowly and painfully strangles Hamlet to death, King Claudius becomes so sexually aroused by the scene, that he suffers a stroke of apoplexy and falls dead on the spot.

Moments later, Fortinbras enters the chamber to discover the carnage.

Though Hamlet is long dead, Ophelia's svelte legs are still locked about his well wrung neck, and she still sings her little song.
Fortinbras is struck by the maiden's beauty, and spectacularly developed physique. He orders physicians to restore the humors of Ophelia's mind. Recovering her sanity completely, a year later Ophelia weds King Fortinbras, whose royal honeymoon was one of the most painful on record. (For the groom at least.)

In a passage penned in the very last days of his life, Fletcher laments never having the opportunity to see two other original versions of the Bard's best known works. One was the play Shakespeare first called "Tamed By The Shrew".
The other work called, according to Fletcher, "The Merry Wife of Venice" concludes when Desdemona, the wife of the title, in a fit of jealous rage, strangles her husband Othello to death, with her bare hands. 
 

 
Eve provocatively  suggests that to 'break the ice' they begin the evening with an informal Mixed Martial Arts romp, on her living room floor.

Reeling groggily from the tiny girl's deadly punches, the steel-thewed hero tried to make sense of this most disturbing encounter.

His impotent cries of rage, muffled by the girl's hot, young crotch, the mighty superhero struggled to loosen the slender thighs, crushing his head.

(There should, of course been transitional pictures here.)

Superior Man, like his female relatives soon fell victim to the evil young Wendy. Beaten nearly unconscious, Superior Man, seeing no hope of matching the vicious young girl began to beg her for mercy.

 Having battered the World's Mightiest Superhero nearly senseless, and forced him to cry out in surrender, and beg for mercy, the cruel dominant twenty-year-old, held him helplessly in thrall with only one hand, as she diabolically tugged at his red briefs.

Stripped naked before the world, Superior Man realized his utter helplessness in the cruel young devil's hands. He felt sick apprehension at his fate.

Morganna had advised Wendy to  not only to publicly defeat Superior Man, but to totally destroy his reputation, and make him a laughing stock, relying on Wendy's own ingenuity  to carry out her wishes. Her confidence in the cruel girl proved well founded.

Nothing could please Wendy more than the destruction and humiliation of a superhero. Her ring attendants, swiftly provided her with a small stool and a deadly kryptonite paddle. In no time she had upended Superior Man across her lap and raised the paddle high.

After spanking the denuded hero bare behind in a humiliating display of female dominance, Wendy carried the disgraced, whimpering crimefighter back to her Aunt's clinic. Able to fly as well as Superior Man, himself, Wendy transported her trophy in the most humiliating, painful way imaginable, flying low over the streets of the City, so few would miss the horrifying spectacle. Already whimpering in near tears, after the brutal spanking, Superior Man's agonized shrieks, shrieks from super-powered lungs, echoed thunderously, through the entire city, arousing terror in the hearts of  all upright and honest citizens.

Back at the clinic, Wendy proudly displayed her first male victim to her admiring Aunt Morganna.

Though she was never a girl to play at dressing up dolls when she was younger, Wendy enjoyed dressing the former superhero in a costume appropriate for his new role in life. She eagerly dragged the terrified, helpless male victim to maid's dressing room.

All hope of rescue now gone, Supergran looked on despairingly as Wendy begins training her unfortunate nephew to be one more unpaid maid at the hellish clinic. Superior Man's training likely included more than one session with the troll family's most treasured heirloom, the Morgullus phallus.

The balance of the pictures, I have no recollection what I intended for them, and I had left no textual clues. Make of them what you will.