Rapunzel could not conform to the idea that she would not see the floating lights in person. She sat in the darkness, brooding about it, Pascal watching her sympathetically from her lap. She sighed when suddenly she heard something outside.

It sounded like a clunk followed by a soft grunt, and again, a clunk and a grunt growing louder and louder. Rapunzel sat up straight, suddenly tense. It couldn't be Mother. Mother always announced her visit from the base of the tower.

'Pascal . . . ' Rapunzel whispered.

At this, Pascal crawled down from his perch on Rapunzel's knee and sped to the only open window, then climbing up and out.

Rapunzel stood from the chair and took a step toward the window when Pascal reappeared, eyes wide, mouth agape and pointed towards the coarse doodle Mother had drawn on the floor. Rapunzel gasped.

Ruffians and thugs . . . cannibals . . . men with pointy teeth . . .

She knew she would need to defend herself from this monster. She needed a weapon, anything. She looked around and her eyes landed on a frying pan. Hard, heavy - it would do.

Gripping the pan's handle, she tiptoed to the window and waited to ambush the barbarian. It was not long before a figure climbed through the open window. He hastily closed the window and heaved a few times to catch his breath. He was facing the opposite direction and had not seen her. Rapunzel took this opportunity to creep closer.

'Alone at last,' he exhaled with relief, head bent over a satchel.

Rapunzel used the frying pan to strike him with all her might. He suddenly went rigid and collapsed. Rapunzel let out a small scream as he hit the ground and dashed to hide behind a mannequin.

She peered over the top of the mannequin's headless top. Being exactly her size, the mannequin concealed her almost completely. He was sprawled on the floor, his satchel at his side, appearing unconscious. She wheeled the mannequin closer to him.

At last, she side-stepped the mannequin to inspect him more closely. She nudged him softly with the base of the frying pan. He did not move. Rapunzel looked to Pascal for aid, who merely shrugged in reply.

Rapunzel turned his head on its side with frying pan. A lock of his thick, brown hair had fallen over his eye. Again, Rapunzel looked to Pascal. Pascal replied by walking to Mother's depiction of a man and changed to match the same red of the drawing as he put his claws up to mouth to imitate fangs, mimicking Mother's drawing.

Rapunzel turned frying pan around, now clutching the base and opened his mouth with the tip of the handle. She was surprised not to see the razor sharp teeth Mother said they would have; there were healthy, normal teeth in their stead.

'Huh,' Rapunzel murmured. Had Mother been mistaken?

Using the the handle, she flipped the lock of hair that had been obsucing his face over his head. She sighed, aghast. Never had Rapunzel seen anything like him. He had rather handsome features, an aquiline nose, a pronounced jaw, with a small beard on his chin. - nothing like she expected. It was disarming.

Rapunzel began to put down the frying pan, slowly moving her head closer to him. He suddenly opened his hazel eyes, wide with puzzlement. Rapunzel gasped and smacked him again as hard as she could. Opening one eye, she saw that he was unconscious once more.

Rapunzel ran to the window and opened it, frying pan in hand and surveyed the land. At least there weren't any more of them.

'Pascal, please keep watch,' Rapunzel whispered.

Pascal obediently took watch.

Rapunzel was head was flooded with a hundred questions at once. Where had he come from? Why was he there? Why did he not match Mother's depiction of the men out there?

Rapunzel kneeled at his side, making sure to put the frying pan out of his reach. She managed to turn his body around so that he was now laying supine.

She gave his face a quick slap with her hand. Nothing. She pried one of his eyes open with her hands. Unresponsive. She slid her hands down to his chest. She could feel his strong heartbeat.

Rapunzel ran her hands through his lush, brown hair to feel his scalp. He was not bleeding, but he would have at least two very large bumps where she had hit him.

So this was a man. Curiosity overtook her. How many chances would she have to examine one? She took his hands in hers. She noted how large they were, rough, his fingers strong and blunt. His hands were so unlike her own small, delicate hands.

She looked to the window. She could not see Pascal from there, nor would he see her. Had Pascal perched from a point where they would be visible to each other, he would advise against her curiosity.

Continuing to examine his hands, she moved up his arm. The hair on his forearm was more evident. She continued to feel her way up his arm. He was well muscled. He had broad shoulders. A strong neck as well.

Before she could change her mind, she began unbuckled his brown belt and unbuttoned the cerulean vest he was wearing from the top down. Once she finished, she moved on to his white shirt and opened it. He had hair on his chest as well. Rapunzel put her hands on his chest to feel his heartbeat once more. His chest was moist. He had been sweating slightly from his physical exertion only moments before. She put her head down to listen to his heartbeat. She could hear him breathing softly as well.

She could smell him now. It was a musky smell, but not unpleasant. She raised her head again and began to feel his chiseled torso, slowly moving down.

Her hands arrived at the top of his tan trousers. She felt a swooping feeling in her stomach and glanced to the open window once more. It seemed safe to continue.

Rapunzel unbuttoned his trousers as well and moved his shirt out of the way. She grabbed at his trousers and jerked them down more. The inguinal lines from his torso looked as though pointing down, to his crotch.

His drawers were made of a thin cloth. Rapunzel instantly noticed the bulge protruding from between his legs. She placed her hand over it and felt something long and warm. Her heartbeat quickened. She finally pulled his drawers down as well and finally exposed his manhood.

His penis contrasted with the tuft of coarse, brown hair. Rapunzel dared to take it into her hand, now blushing deeply and growing hot. She gently fondled the sack beneath his penis. She gripped the penis again. The circumference of it was too great, so that she could not touch her middle finger to her thumb when she held it. With her other hand she ran her finger up and down the underside. Rapunzel gasped when she noticed his penis growing longer and harder.

She glanced back at his face. He was still out cold, but he looked serene. She continued to stimulate him until his penis reached its full length, pointing up and looking proud. He groaned softly.

Taken aback, Rapunzel gasped and reached for the frying pan and held it high, ready to strike again, but the man didn't rouse. Rapunzel continued to examine him once she was sure that he would not wake.

She continued to stroke his penis, no longer minding the moans he emitted every so often. Her own breathing was becoming more and more ragged. She noticed the tip leaking a clear fluid, which made the head of his penis glisten. Rapunzel reached up to stroke the tip, when she noticed the sack growing taut.

He moaned slightly more loudly and from the tip burst out a milky-looking liquid that landed on his abdomen. Rapunzel put the tips of her fingers to the liquid. It was hot and sticky. She now noticed the penis was growing soft again.

Suddenly aware of herself, Rapunzel wiped his abdomen down with his own shirt and quickly dressed him again.

Rapunzel stood and sighed, wiping her hands on her dress. She would have to hide him. She sat on his muscular legs, straddling him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a sitting position against her.

He sat precariously limp, so that she had to keep put his head over her shoulder, his face towards her neck.

Rapunzel kept him in that position by slipping one hand under his arm and holding it against his shoulders, pushing him against her. With her other hand she reached for her hair and proceeded to set about the awkward task of wrapping her hair around his torso, using it as a rope. It was made more difficult by the man breathing against her sensitive neck, once even smacking his lips, grazing her skin so delectably that she almost forgot what she was doing.

Finally satisfied that she had wrapped him in her hair securely enough, she lay him down again. She sighed again gazing at the handsome stranger. She might never again have the opportunity to stare at him at her liberty.

She stood and wondered how she would set about stuffing him in her closet.

A/N: Please review.