Contrary to popular belief, Dorothy Gale was an incorrigible girl. To Auntie Em, and her other relatives, she was as innocent and pure as a Kansas sunrise. But what her Aunt did not know, is that Dorothy had become so curious and mischievous in her teens, she had become a naughty girl indeed.
Growing up on a farm in the middle of the Great Plains is no easy task for anyone. The nearest neighbor was three miles away, and the nearest town was a good thirty. But to an attractive twenty year old young woman, the isolation could be as difficult as surviving a harsh winter inside a log cabin. This "Farm Fever" as Dorothy liked to call it, nipped at her heels as a child, but after reaching her teens, the nipping had turned to a tingling between her legs.
She needed sex. And she needed it bad.
To make matters worse, Hunk, Zeke, and Hickory, three farmhands in their early thirties, had teased Dorothy with their charm and muscled chests, throughout her development. She teased them of course, attempting to lure one or all three of them into the barn as her Aunt baked pies inside the kitchen. But although the men may have been tempted by the pig-tailed beauty, they all knew better than to screw the farmer's daughter. For Hunk, Zeke, and Hickory had all known fellas who had made just that mistake, and had all wound up with a bullet in their back.
And then one summer afternoon, as Dorothy came bouncing up to the hog pen to deliver three glasses of lemonade to the men, the sky turned black as pitch, and the windmill spun like the wheel of a bicycle. It was a twister.
Zeke grabbed Dorothy's hand, dropping the glasses into the dirt, as the funnel cloud raced towards the farm like a runaway locomotive. But as they were running down the cellar stairs, Dorothy lost her footing and fell forward down the last two steps. She fell into darkness then, the sound of the tornado whistling in her head.
When she came to, Dorothy found herself in a landscape quite different from the cellar of her Kansas farm. She was outside, but the drab colors of the landscape had been replaced by a brilliant palette of blues, reds, greens, and yellows.
After her eyes finished adjusting, her ears picked up the sounds of tiny little voices coming from the bushes, and suddenly in the sky, there appeared a vision in pink. The woman floated down to the yellow street, and Dorothy's heart skipped a beat. The woman was stunning.
Her hair was blond and wavy, her skin as pink as the lacy gown she wore, which was practically transparent. Dorothy had never seen a woman as stunning as the one now standing before her, and it flooded her head with naughty thoughts that were exciting and new.
"They are shy." The woman said, her blue eyes sparkling like two sapphires.
"Who?" Was all Dorothy could say, for she was still staring at the woman's body. "Why, the munchkins, of course." And she laughed a sexy velvety laugh. "But no matter. They would only tell you to follow the yellow brick road, which is exactly what you must do."
Dorothy looked puzzled.
"Let me introduce myself. I am Glenda, the Good Witch. And I really think you'll like what you'll find on the road."
"Which is?" Dorothy asked.
