Hansel shuddered inside himself, knowing full well that he was underplaying the intensity of his step-mother's cruel punishment. Hansel and Gretel's real mother had died when they were nine years old. Up until then, life had been nearly perfect. No one ever had kinder or gentler parents.
Their father never really recovered from the mysterious decline and death of their mother. The twins were eleven when their father seemed to revive from this cruel blow from life, bringing home a new wife. And she was lovely. The opposite in physical type from Hansel and Gretel's mother, she embodied the beauty of self-possession, every feature clearly defined, perfect. And at first it appeared to the children that she was beautiful inside as well.
Then - one unforgettable winter's afternoon - when their father was gone for the entire day delivering the firewood he cut to make a living - all hell broke loose.
Hansel and Gretel never really fought but they frequently enjoyed playful struggles. Neither their father nor their mother had ever shown any inclination to try to stop them when the two started moving around in a nearly indistinguishable mass of giggles, hair and legs. The stepmother watched them in silence for the longest time until on the day in question, a leg - it could have been Hansel's OR Gretel's - freed itself from the interlocked scuffle enough to kick over a pitcher of milk, breaking it and spilling the contents.
The pitcher was an old one of no particular value. The milk had probably very nearly soured, it had stood so long in the room. But this incident was decisive in introducing the real character of their stepmother. She flew into a hissing rage. Both children were immediately and very soberly silenced. They understood only parts of what she was saying. Most of it was at a level of obscenity far beyond their innocent and protected imaginations.
And then she stopped shouting. Her usually ivory white face was flushed with rage and her shining perfect hair had gone wild. She strode back and forth before Hansel and Gretel, not looking at them, not saying anything.
Suddenly she stopped and turned to face them. She stared frowning ferociously into Gretel's face. Gretel dropped her eyes, helplessly feeling shamed. The stepmother diverted her attention to Hansel. Something felt at stake for him and he tried to hold her stare. Her face lit up like a fire, catching full flame. She reached out and grabbed the boy by the arm.
"Youuuuu!" She shouted in his face. "This is YOUR fault!" and she swept her hand in an arc referring to the floor where the pieces of crockery and spilled milk lay. Looking wildly around and finding a wooden bench, she pulled the boy along and sat, pulling him face down across her lap.
She was a slight, slender woman but fueled by her tremendous rage, the volley of blows dealt to the boy's backside was significant enough to produce yelping and moaning from him. Jerking to a stop again, she pulled him upright and hastily undid the buttons that attached the straps of his lederhosen to the bib front. Once undone, the garment fell around his feet, drawn down by the weight of the deerskin. He stood then in his loose-fitting shirt and tattered underwear, faded and too small for him, as the stepmother had shown no interest in clothing the growing children.
Back over her lap he went and again he was punished with a painful set of blows, behind which the stepmother clearly was placing all of her strength. Again the boy yelped and moaned.
Another pause. Jerked upright again. The evil woman looked him up and down. At the unsewn hem of his shirt, something seemed to be slightly protruding. She grabbed at it and discovering it to be his youthful _c_o_c_k_, squeezed it hard, laughing derisively. "So you LIKE being treated this way! Your puny little peter shows me that!"
Using both hands she jerked the tattered underclothes down from Hansel's swollen member. Then again she grasped in her claw, making him yelp even louder than he had in the force of her spanking. "Come child," she invited, in a mockery of beguilement. "Come see your brother's little treasure."
Still holding Hansel's _c_o_c_k_ in her hand, she reached out and yanked poor Gretel over beside her on the bench. Gretel looked everywhere BUT at her brother's private part. This infuriated the stepmother even further. With one hand she flung Gretel to the floor. "I SAID COME SEE!!!" and grabbing Gretel's thick blond hair, she yanked equally hard at one child's _c_o_c_k_ and the other's hair until Gretel's nose was nearly touching Hansel's reddened _c_o_c_k_.
Gretel's eyes DID settle upon it, inquisitively. Surely she had looked at Hansel in the bath before but never had her attention narrowed on this part that made him so different from her in so many ways.
The stepmother let go of the boy's _c_o_c_k_ and yanking the back of his shirt, stripped him completely naked. The winter wind whipping away outside caught her ear and she had a moment of inspiration. Letting go of Gretel's hair so that the girl fell to the floor for a moment, she took Hansel by his pudgy arm and forced him to the door of the kitchen, which led directly outside. "So you're red, so you're hot, are you?" and laughing hysterically, she pulled open the door and thrust the nude boy out into the winter air. Snow swirled around his pink form as he fell back into the light ground coat and saw the door slam shut before him.
His efforts that day to regain admittance - tapping fearfully on the door - were ignored awhile. Then the woman took a pan of water and opened the door and threw it on him.
Only when Hansel and Gretel's father was nearly due back home did the woman let the boy come back into the cottage and put his clothes back on. For the longest time none of the three said a word. Finally - hearing the woodcutter stomping snow off his feet - Hansel and Gretel's stepmother held a finger to her lips and said, "Not a word!" and the glare of hatred that swung from first Gretel to the even more despised boy was enough warning for them.
And thus began an increasingly horrible tale of domestic adjustment.
(OKAY - _s_h_i_t_HEADS - NO, NOT YOU NICE GUYS WHO HAVE ALREADY KINDLY ADMIRED MY WORK - BUT YOU PIGGIES WHO READ IT AND STROKE YOURSELVES AND NEVER GIVE ANYTHING BACK - E-MAIL ME!!!!!!!!!)