The Princess Empath and the Hurt
There once was an Upper Mid Range Narcissist who called himself Prince (not the deceased pop star) but rather because he decided he was a Prince amongst men. He decided it was time to find a Princess. He had plenty of these Princesses before, after all, with his good looks and keen mind, he was something of a catch and it was not difficult for him to ride out to a hunting ground and ensnare a fresh one. He found, however, that after a period of time, he grew tired of their fawning and praise and realised he needed something more, something better, something substantial and long-lasting from his Princesses but since he was not a Greater, he did not quite know what.
Accordingly, he sauntered over to a mirror that he had found which talked back to him. Well, when he says found, he stole it, but then again everything was his to take because after all he was a prince.
“Mirror, mirror I have nicked, tell me who I need who will get royally dicked?”
“Oh hello Conker Bollocks,” yawned the face in the mirror, “You need a Princess Empath matey boy. Since this is a fairy tale I am sure one will come along soon.”
Later that night there was a terrible storm and there came a knocking at the castle door. Somewhat improbably the old King himself went to open the door, although as a Carrier Empath he found himself running around doing all the chores for the royal family, and found a bedraggled young lady.
She was in a terrible state from the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her clothes; it ran in at the top of her shoes and out the heel, but the production of her tiara atop a Salvation Army hat marked her down as clearly an empathic lady of royal distinction.
“Deary me, “ declared the old king, “do come in, do you need shelter?”
“Yes please,” replied the Princess Empath, “I gave up my room at the Sally Army to a homeless unicorn so I have nowhere to stay.”
Just then the Prince Narc appeared and in an instant felt that this bedraggled and soaking lady had significant potential. He sidled up to here and as she stood dripping asked her twenty questions ascertaining her empathic, class and special traits. Fair quivering with excitement, Prince Narc called out to the Queen.
“Oh mama, I have a new friend. Well I say new, we have known each other for ten years and I have been in love with her for 8 of those years, but just never got around to telling her. May she stay over?”
The Queen Narc swept into view.
“Royal chambers are for royalty only,” she said with a sneer.
“Oh I am a Princess, Princess Empath, your majesty,” replied the girl politely as she curtsied.
“Looking like that? I think not.”
The Queen Narc sensed competition for the affections of Prince Narc and did not welcome this intrusion. She however sensed an opportunity for triangulation and potential negative fuel.
“Since you are say you are a Princess and an empathic one at that, then we shall soon if that is true,” declared the Queen Narc.
She flounced away and snapped her fingers for the entourage of seven little men (who were engaged on a Communtiy Payback scheme after certain felonies and crimes in the Forest of Empaths) to trot after her.
“Can she stay mama or not?”
“She may,” declared the Queen Narc, “I shall arrange for the Bitter Suite to be turned down for her.”
The Queen Narc headed to the Bitter Suite, seven little men in tow. She ordered them to remove the bedclothes and then from a box she produced a dark hard stone which seemed to absorb all the light from the gas lights dotted around the room.
“This concentrated hurt will soon determine whether she is indeed a Princess Empath. If she is the delicate and sensitive empath she claims to be, then she will feel this hurt through anything,” muttered the Narc Queen to herself.
She placed the hurt on the bed and then snapped at the seven little men to haul twenty mattresses on top of it. She then commanded them to place twenty feather beds on top of the mattresses. Once done a ladder was placed besides the gargantuan bed just as the Princess Empath arrived.
“You should sleep well with that degree of comfort,” said the Queen Narc as she swept away followed by the seven little men.
Cold and tired, the Princess Empath began to ascend the ladder to bed…..
The next morning the Princess Empath arrived at the royal dining room to find the Prince Narc and Queen Narc dining on hard cheese and sour grapes served by the seven little men. The Queen Narc had let the Prince Narc in on her scheme as she saw great benefits to ensnaring the Princess Empath through her son and engaging in rampant triangulation thereafter.
“Good morning,” said the Princess Empath brightly. The two narcs eyed her suspiciously.
“How did you sleep?” asked the Prince Narc barely able to contain his excitement.
“Oh terribly,” sighed the Princess Empath.
The Prince grinned.
“I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night. Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying upon some hard thing and my body is black and blue this morning. It is terrible,” continued the Princess Empath.
“Nobody but a real Princess Empath would have such an ability to feel the hurt in such a way,” said the Queen Narc as her forked tongue brushed over her sharp teeth.
“Indeed I am a Princess Empath, Princess Sue Per Empath actually. Oh I felt the hurt alright, but that wasn’t what kept me awake!” said the Princess Empath suddenly.
“What?” said the Prince Narc.
“No, it was this!” cried the Princess Empath and from behind her back she produced a large gold strap on with the words “Prince’s BIG Helper” emblazoned along it.
“Er oh er mama!” muttered the Prince as his eyes fell on the weapon of anal intrusion.
“It had been left in the bed. Looks like you will be needing this to sort out Little Prince Pissy Knickers here,” smiled Princess as she lobbed the strap on towards the fuming Queen Narc and turned on her heel.
“Mama!” wailed Prince Narc as the shame of the discovery threatened his construct and he fell to the floor curled into a ball.
“I’m not your mother,” hissed Queen Narc as she stormed from the dining room leaving the bewildered seven little men behind.
“Does this mean we can go back to Snow White now?” asked one.
“I don’t know but I am going to hang with his Princess Empath for a while, she is kick ass,” answered the other and trotted after the departing Princess Empath.
And so some people lived happily ever after.
39 thoughts on “The Princess Empath and the Hurt”
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🤣😆😄 my all time favorite lol
That b***h is no empath.
Whatever dark corner this story crawled from, HG, I hope that the writing of it helped to exorcise something.
Lisa
Just curious. What makes you say “That b***h is no empath.”
Casual cruelty is not empathic.
Rewriting fairy tales is clever, a well used trope in speculative fiction. The EM princess has more tales up her sleeve. I look forward to hearing them. HG is a talented storyteller. How would he envision the princess post discard? How would the prince or Narc Queen proceed?
Ingenious text! Nothing more, nothing less. Ingenious.
Not only I learn here but i also get my daily dose of laughter I need so much.
For real abrokenwing! Laughter is the best medicine (well wine is good too). HG is ‘therapist to the empaths’. Who knew, huh HG?
Haha ..You’re so right amsodane! ( about the wine as well 😉) . It sometimes reminds me what I miss about my ex most tho… but then I read an article like ‘ I want ‘ and I’m good again.
Who knew? You did. Lol. Hilarious.
I was hoping it was going to end with princess empath using the strap on on prince narc for one night and then going no contact…*sigh*
I need to follow this one…
I start to laugh at all of the innuendos but when I put them together, not funny. Very Grimm. That is how fairy tales are in my mind. If you wrote children’s books, children would have nightmares. That said well written.
Grimm’s Fairy Tales, haha ljadel! Yes, Princess Empath and the Hurt is definitely an adult only bedtime story.
So I wasnt even sure my ex narc was going to pay support this week because last week he told me not to expect anything till he gets an apt. Well Sat. he called wanted to have lunch & give me some money. So our daughter & I went to meet him he gave me his bank card & told me to take out double of what he been paying. My daughter says, “Wow he is being Really nice,thats not like him at all! I hope he stays this way!” I said, “YEAH RIGHT! He is up to something or wants something.” I wonder what it is? Wonder why he being extra nice!?
Fuel and the façade and the creation of a debt (not a monetary one) which he can throw back at you in the future.
Your honest assessment carries weight. A blunt edge. Thank you.
Well found out what it was it was for him to get under my skin and not pay me this week! Its been almost a yr and a half now since we split although I am doing much better and only have contact with him every other week. Each time I do have contact I still get angry, I get angry how he wrecked our family, I get angry that my daughter and I now live in poverty basically, I get angry that I stayed and put up with his bullshit for so long and I get angry how someone can be so selfishly messed up in the head and so uncaring. I get angry it still makes me angry. People say it takes 2 yrs to get over a divorce I hope so but I do wonder if I’ll ever get over it fully. I honestly don’t think I will EVER be in another relationship ever. I wish he was normal and realized how bad he messed up and wished he could have me back (I wouldnt go back) but i wish he felt that way like every other guy I left! I think I would feel better then and I know that wrong but I would!
Reminds me of water boy with Adam Sandler.
Speaking of sleeping, did you know that oxytocin improves REM sleep and dreaming? I asked my acupuncturist how parents with newborns are able to survive when they’re so sleep deprived. She said bonding with the child increases levels of oxytocin and therefore most parents are able to adjust to very little sleep.
So how is this related to narcs?
Well isn’t everything about narcs? 😉
Her statement gave me an ‘ah ha’ moment. I realized even though I was greatly sleep deprived in my narc relationships, the feeling of being in love was what saved me. Simply the act of talking to my exes or being near them released oxytocin. So I was fulfilled and able to function on little sleep.
My ah-ha moment also led me back to your label of us as ‘love devotees’. I think the label should be love addicts instead. Your love bombing and golden periods help create large amounts of oxytocin in our system. I think once the oxytocin machine gets revved up, it keeps pumping out pink bubbles of love even in the devaluation phase. Of course, I have no scientific research to back this up. But I now understand that I am addicted to the love hormone. That is why I kept going back for more with different narcs. No one else could get my oxytocin machine to shoot out copious amounts of love ❤❤❤
The phrase love devotee denotes your belief and faith in love and is something different to the concept of being addicted to love.
Im going to have to face it, I was addicted to… narc and once an addict, always. The inconsistent and intermittent reinforcement of him being amazingly wonderful (during golden period) or decent (benign hoover luring or playing mind games) was powerful and kept me hooked. And like an addict, I now know NC is the only way. Daily battle, one day at a time.
I was addicted to lust at one time. I am not joking.
Ah Oh. Wow wow wow. I just read one of your posts in another article. How did you know that information?
Love What information are you referring to? Know I am very resouceful.
Girl, I’m scared of you 😉
I’m scared of you too. We must be scaredy cats!
Hm, how are they different?
True. We believe in the power of love. Selfless love in particular. That belief is addictive; we see, feel, taste, hear, think, that being tolerant and receptive will always penetrate the toughest armor. Hence bring together all creatures, great and small, in grace and harmony. We long for everyone and everything to have a place in the scheme of things. That is our great gift and Achilles heel.
My point exactly Brownwyn. Faith, belief, and addiction in something seem one and the same. We believe in love, we need it, we cannot live without it, nor can we imagine a loveless world.
HG,
Excellent writing. Was Matrinarc jealous of your girlfriends or wife? Did she like any one of them? Did she try to control your relationships with them? Did she triangulate you and them? Did she suddenly like the one you discarded? Do you let them use Princes big helper on you? Okay, really I don’t care to know the answer to that last query. I think it’s the highlight of the story. Especially when Princess Sue Per Empath chucks it at Mama! 👑🦄⬆🔙🔚💙👸
lol, somebody watching too much porn..
The sue per empath was schooled in shock therapy.
An elite erotic art you see.
Hi intelavatar….Super empath.. clever stuff. Depends on the shock I guess ex. if mental, emotional. Re: ECT (electric shock – convulsive therapy) not my thing. “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy” (many, et al.)
awe… some lived happily ever after! And because I am also a super empath, one of the saddest parts was the homeless unicorn. The old king was a carrier, hehehe. the triangulation references cool, and that queen narc (both like sour grapes tho).. but yikes, she was supposed to be the mom (although denied); so no wonder Prince and everyone all messed up around her. How bout the princess more than ok with the hurt..and what up with the 7 taking their bedclothes off?
Spicy stuff HG, maybe rethink the children’s story line angle with this one, haha. That said, so many children’s stories have real ‘adult’ meanings and parallel themes. nice read.
Prince’s big helper?
I’m not following this one.
Me neither.
You never know what you may find at the Salvation Army! Discarded Engagement rings, even. 😉😂 I think the prince is capable of healing too, as he still feels the hurt and shame. Maybe not into a non-narcissist, but a more balanced one with more emotional depth and range. Rising above past atrocities without the need to endlessly name the wrong target. I hope, and I know the odds.
I appreciated this story, HG.
*Wound not name