She-Ra and Fisto Part 3: The Uncensored Version
Copyright @May 17, 1997 by Jennifer Thomas

Lurking over the mists as one approached it like some great, evil
gargoyle, striking terror into the hearts of all who should stumble
across it, there stood Castle Greyskull, a green, stone-brick relic
in the midst of the jagged hills. Its four towers reached three hundred
feet into the gloomy sky, its face like that of a human skull, its mouth
the drawbridge. Empty eye sockets gazed out over all Eternia as they
had for the past ten thousand years. What restless spirits remain buried
therein? If the walls could talk, what tales could they tell?
Fisto banged his fist on the drawbridge. "Open up!" he
cried. She-Ra lay unconscious next to him.
An ominous voice boomed, "WHO GOES THERE?"
"It is I, Fisto of the Eternian Royal Guard! Open up!" he
"TURN BACK!" said the voice. "NONE MAY ENTER
"I seek council with the Sorceress! It is She-Ra! She is
dying! She may already be dead . . ."
A great, orange and blue falcon swooped down from the
tower window landing on a ledge next to him. He knew this to be
the sacred Eternian bird, zoar, whose wingspan reached nine feet.
Could this be the Zoar mage herself, the Sorceress of Greyskull, he
thought? "Bring her!" the bird squawked.
Fisto lifted Adora in his arms and carried her back away
from the door. The zoar transformed itself into a fair woman dressed
in bird feathers, and raising her arm, said, "By the power of Greyskull,
let the jawbridge open!" Her voice was smooth and calm yet full of
power, so that it seemed if she would command a rock to move it
would. Likewise, the castle obeyed her, and with a chain rattling,
clanking sound, the entryway to the castle was barred no more.
The three of them went inside.
"Quickly," she said, "follow me."
Fisto followed her into the darkness. The atmosphere was
stale and thick with dust, enough to make him gasp for air.
It seemed no one had lived here for centuries. He could make little of
the castle's contents; all was shrouded in mystery: ancient book
cases, bottles, trunks, statues, tapestries, old weapons and suits of
armor. Though there was light enough to see, Fisto could not tell
from where it came. They crossed through countless corridors,
hallways, and rooms, before coming to a stone slab raised four feet
off the ground with a star in a circle etched into its surface.
The Sorceress motioned for him to place Adora on the slab. As soon
as he did, she closed her eyes and waved her hand over the body.
Stopping at the bandage, she said, "remove it." Fisto complied.
The blood had soaked up into the cloth and was dry. The holes were
partly closed, but it made no difference now. "What happened?" she
"I found her this way in a river gorge in the Dead Zones. I
spoke to her. She said she was poisoned by King Hiss."
The Sorceress placed both hands on the body. She chanted
a few words into the air that had no meaning to Fisto, for they were
of the Ancient Zodiakian tongue, and a white glow streamed forth
from one woman to the other. The Sorceress' face was stern. She
chanted more rapidly, her countenance growing more dismal, and
yet there seemed no change to the ill-fated princess. At last, the
Sorceress wailed. The glowing light burned out, and she fell back as
if to faint. Fisto reached out to catch her, but she caught herself
instead. "Wh-what is it, Sorceress! Is she dead?"
"No," she replied. "But she might as well be. I can do
nothing for her."
"No!" cried Fisto, pounding his fist into the wall. Pieces of it
flaked off and fell to the ground.
"Oh Adora," she weeped, combing her fingers through her
long red hair. "Believe me, Fisto, if there was something I could do,
I would. Her body is besieged by this venom. I cannot remove it
and there is no cure."
"I-Is she, is she going to wake up again?" His lips trembled.
"No," said the Sorceress.
"But . . . it's not fair! I didn't even, I didn't even get the
chance to . . .," Fisto buried his head in his hand and ran off. He
ran, lost in the endless passageways of the fortress, until somehow
coming upon the jawbridge. It opened for him, and he stumbled out
into the day. The light burned his pupils and made him squint. He
collapsed to the ground, weary, shading himself with his massive
hand. All his hope and all his strength was gone. At that moment, a
stunning blue eyed brunette woman arrived carrying a wooden staff.
"There you are!" she cried.
"Teela?" he asked. "Is that you?"
"Yes it's me! Did you forget all about me already?"
"No. What are you doing here?"
"Me! I should ask you the same question! I have been
looking everywhere for you! I thought you were dead! Now I
almost wish you were, you bastard!"
"Wait a second!" he cried. "I can explain . . . you see, She-
Ra . . ."
"She-Ra!" she yelled. "What about She-Ra?"
"Well, you see, last night, I was with her and . . ."
"Aha! I thought so! Another woman, you bastard!" she said
again, beating him with the head of her staff.
Fisto did nothing but try to keep from getting hit. When he
looked up again, he found her mounted on her sky sled, ready to
take off. "Wait!" he called, "did you come to see the Sorceress?"
She turned to him as she was leaving. "Yes, I came to ask
her where I could find you!" With that, Teela was gone. Fisto felt
horrible, knowing her fiery temperament, but it was no use running
after her. He did not love her. He never did.

I failed, Fisto said to himself, just like I failed to save my
wife. As he lay there wallowing in sorrow, the Sorceress burst
forth, "Wait!"
"There IS one person immune to King Hiss' poison!"
"King Hiss himself," she said.
"So," he asked, "what of it?"
"If you could bring me the head of King Hiss, I could use it
to make an antidote."
"Can we assemble the Guard?"
"There is no time. You must go alone. Not even I can help,
for I cannot leave this castle. I give you one hour. If you cannot
return with the head of King Hiss in one hour, Adora will die."
"B-But, that's impossible! One bite and I will be dead just
the same! Besides, how will we find him?"
"The sword of She-Ra is very valuable. Since you brought
her to me with all but her sword, I believe that King Hiss has taken
it, and if he has, I can use my magic to locate it, and hopefully, him.
Fisto," she paused. "You don't have to go. There will be no
dishonor. But if you so decide, I can make a portal to send you."
"Oh, I don't know!" he cried. "If She-Ra could not best him,
how can I? Surely the sister of He-Man is a greater champion!"
The Sorceress placed her hand on his chest. "But you love
her," she said gently.
"H-How did you know!"
"Why Fisto," she smiled. "I am the Sorceress; I can feel it.
You love her very much."
"Yes!" he grabbed her as if she were Adora. "I didn't know
it myself until now. It no longer matters what happens to me."

In the guise of a middle aged man, King Hiss, ruler of all
Snake Men, sat upon his granite throne chiseled from a single stone
block. He surveyed his surroundings, the bright, rectangular
chamber lined by pillars and hieroglyphics, the obsidian bowls of
flame burning to each side of him. From the open ceiling above
came the light of the sun, the jungle vines crawling down the
sloping walls, and the hanging palm trees.
"This," she rasped, "is a space ship?"
"Magnificent, isn't it! The new Emperor of the Snake Men
should travel in style, don't you think?" He sipped the blood from
his chalice, clutching his bejeweled, serpent entwined scepter in his
other hand.
"No matter, the Horde has supplied you with all the
materials you requested. I will take my leave now."
"Wait, Shadow Weaver, what of my trophy?"
"I had hoped I could present that to Hordak for his
"It is mine. I want it now."
"As you wish," she sighed. "Bring the statue!" Two figures
clad in full plate carried a wooden crate marked fragile into the
room. They set the crate down and pried it open with crow bars.
The sides of the wooden crate fell flat and there stood the petrified
Sea Hawk.
"Yesss," he mused. "I think I like it there. What say you,
witch?" Suddenly, a large man with an iron fist appeared between
them. "What!" cried King Hiss, getting to his feet.
Shadow Weaver looked at the man, then looked at the sword she
pulled from her robes. "Cursed thing!" she hissed. With that, the old
crone vanished, leaving the sword on the floor. "How dare you
come into my chambers unannounced!" shouted the King, his long
black tongue slipping in and out. "Who are you?"
"I am Fisto," said the man, pointing his long sword to the
King's neck. "I have come for your head villain!"
"Fool!" cried King Hiss, his eyes becoming like swirling
pools of fire, pulling Fisto inward, headlong into vertigo. Fisto held
the sword unsteadily, then let go. It dropped to the floor with a
clang. "Did you truly believe that you could barge in here and slay
the most powerful being in the universe! I will not even call my
guards; I will deal with you myself!" The serpent around his staff
came alive, slithering its way up around his arm, opening its hood
and rattling its tail, hissing and snapping its jaws. "Ah, my lovely
pet," he said, stroking the cobra. Fisto remained mesmerized.
Coiling it up into a ball, King Hiss hurled the snake at Fisto. It
struck him square in the head, wrapping itself around him.
Freed of the sorcerer's charm, Fisto grabbed the cobra with
his giant fingers, prying it off before it could strike. The snake
writhed in his clenched fist, but its fangs could not penetrate his
iron hand. He showed the snake to King Hiss, then squeezed the
blood out of it like a ripe tomato, leaving its dried lifeless body for
the flies to feast.
"You impudent ape!" cried the King, shedding his skin to
reveal his horrendous, five-headed self, lunging at him.
Kneeling down to pick up his sword, the monster was already
upon him. Fisto reached out his extended arm to keep the
venomous monarch away, but it was no use. King Hiss made his way
up around his biceps, calves, hips, throat. Thrashing about uselessly,
the lone hero could hear the slow popping of his muscles from his bones,
feel the ever increasing pressure on his lungs by his collapsing ribs, the
thumping of his heart.
Before killing and feeding on his victims, King Hiss liked to
stare into their eyes, to see the fear and panic wrought by their
impending death. Fisto grinded his teeth, a line of sweat streaking
down to his beard, and stared back into those soulless black pupils,
seeing nothing there but his own twisted reflection. "I have fought
and killed better men than you! For two thousand years, I have led
my nomadic people to the promised land; did you truly think you
could stop me? No, I shall return to the land of my forefathers and
reclaim my birthright as pharaoh. I am the thirty third descendent of
the Great God Set and I shall not be denied!" King Hiss ranted on
senselessly, as Fisto inched his left hand up to the middle head, and
with all his remaining might, stabbed his fingers into the serpent's
Stumbling back, blinded and bleeding, the snake man
regained his composure. Fisto eyed the monster carefully, another
eight pairs of eyes looking back. As the gnawing poisonous mouths
reached out to snare him, he backed down the stairs. They curved,
danced, and spiraled about themselves to dizzy him; they hissed and
rattled, but he averted his gaze from them to the middle head.
"You will pay for that!" the mouths wailed in unison. "I will
inject you with the worst poison of all, so that you may suffer a
slow, painful death!"
"Like She-Ra!" Fisto replied, angrily. King Hiss surged
forward, tasting the cold iron of his blocking fist. "I have you now!"
he said. But the middle head did not let go. It clamped down hard on
his giant hand, and unlocking its jaw, stuffed half of it into its mouth,
drawing him in. He tried to pull away, but it was no use; his fist was stuck.
Soon, the smaller snakes would have him for dinner. "Come to me!"
they beckoned. Then, Fisto had an idea. He jammed his fist down
deeper into King Hiss' throat, and dislodged it from his arm. As the
scaly sovereign strained to swallow, he snatched his long sword from
the floor and lopped his head off.
With the main head gone, the body of the King crashed to
its knees and collapsed, blood gushing from its open wound like a
water hose, though the smaller heads still lived. Already Fisto could
see a new head growing in place of the lost one. Peeling his
prosthetic appendage from the King's dismembered part and
reattaching it, he remembered the sword of She-Ra. He leaned over
to pick it up when the statue caught his eye.
It must be Sea Hawk, he thought. I should take it to the
Sorceress; she could undo the King's evil spell. But what if when
Adora sees him, she forgets about me? She loves him, but he
doesn't have to return . . . Fisto wrinkled his brow. What if King
Hiss destroyed him? Yes, I could tell it to her gently. She would
grieve for a while, but she would be mine . . . at least she would
be . . . No, what am I saying! I can't do this. I don't even know what
she feels for me. And if she chooses him, so be it; I am no murderer.
He lifted Sea Hawk on to his broad shoulders. "Oh how
I wish I had never laid eyes on you," he muttered, carrying two
swords, a snake's head, and a statue to a faintly shimmering place
that was the portal.

Fisto arrived at Greyskull. The Sorceress put her finger to
the statue, changing it back to living flesh and blood. "Adora run!"
cried Sea Hawk.
"Hold!" said Fisto, grabbing him. "Much time has passed,
my friend."
"Wh-where am I?" he cried.
"You are in Castle Greyskull."
"My God, where is Adora?"
The Sorceress took King Hiss' head and disappeared into
another chamber. "Follow me," she said.

A look of agony fell on Sea Hawk's face when he found
Adora lying on the stone slab unconscious. "What's happened to
her!" he cried. "Is she all right?"
"Please," said the Sorceress, "I need to concentrate."
Reaching into its mouth, she ripped the teeth and gums from the
snake's head, and milking it like a cow, squeezed the venom into an
already prepared vile. "This poison is lethal," she explained. "If you
so much as taste it, you die." She grabbed a large bottle of green
liquid. "There is an antibody produced in King Hiss' mouth making
him immune to his own poison." She poured the vile into the bottle.
"This will extract the antibody from the venom." Producing a
second vile from thin air, the Sorceress funneled the green liquid
into the other container, which now turned blue. Then, She-Ra was
made to drink the blue liquid.
After a few minutes, Adora opened her eyes, propping up
on the platform. She looked around, dazed at first, then spotted the
captain. "Oh Sea Hawk!" she cried, falling into his embrace. "I
thought I'd never see you again!"
"Are you all right my love?" he asked, still holding her.
"Oh yes, now that you're here!" she answered, pressing her
lips against his. "Wait . . .," she said, looking around the room.
"Sorceress, where is Fisto? I thought he was here. I didn't even get
a chance to thank him."
"I don't know," she replied. "I think he left."

Fisto's right cheek lay flat on the wooden table. His left arm
rested next to it, still clasping a half drunk mug of beer. Twelve
other empty mugs, some upright, others rolling on their bellies',
littered the rest of the table top. He wasn't drunk. Not that he didn't
want to be, but at close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle,
and with much beer drinking experience, it wasn't easy. Fisto was
moaning an old Eternian ballad when a meaty man passed by.
Reaching out his giant hand, he halted him, saying, "Ho, good
fellow, did I ever tell you about the time I lost two women and a
horse all in one day?"
"Oh knock it off, Fisto. It's been weeks! Get over it, man!
Clean yourself up!"
"I sure loved that horse," he mumbled.
The fat man patted him on the back. "Farewell, Fisto."
Suddenly, the tavern door burst open. In came a woman.
"I am looking for Fisto!" she proclaimed.
"Please," said the bartender. "We want no trouble here."
She grabbed him by the collar lifting him off his feet with
one hand. "Fisto, where is he?"
"Oh no, not again!"
That voice . . . it sounds so familiar, Fisto thought, wearily
lifting his head. At first he didn't recognize her; she was simply radiant.
All the redness had returned to her cheek bones. Her golden winged
headdress and brassier was gleaming in the torch light, as were her
soft, blue eyes. Last time he had seen her, she was caked with dirt,
blood, and saliva. Now there was not a blemish. "Adora!" he
She turned to him, dropping the bartender. Once she was
unable to stand. Now her firm, smooth stomach rattled her weapons
belt as she strutted toward his table. Her tall, naked legs teased him
with every step, rising up to meet her playful loin cloth.
"Fisto!" she called. Moving the mugs to fit her elbows, her hair
cascaded down the table.
"It's been a long time," he said in a stern voice.
She smiled, her expression betraying her words. "I challenge
you to a fight!"
"Get your sword!"
"But I don't want to fight you."
"Perhaps we could arm-wrestle, then?"
Next thing he knew, a crowd had gathered about them both.
"I say," said the fat man, "that the girl beats him."
"Are you serious?" a skinny man replied.
"Hey!" said Fisto, pointing to the fat man. "I thought you
"Well . . .?" she asked, her chin resting on her knuckles.
"I-I suppose," he said, raising his right arm by way of habit.
She placed her tiny hand in his.
"Don't hurt me," she said.
"I won't." Then, Fisto found himself lying on his side, one
half of the table next to him. "Hey!" yelled the bartender.
"Who's going to pay for my table?"
"I'm sorry," said She-Ra. "I'll pay."
"No," said the fat man. "I'll pay. I made a lot of money off
of you, my girl."
"I'm not your girl."
"Wait!" said Fisto. "I wasn't ready. I want a rematch!"
She hoisted him to his feet, looking deep into his eyes,
saying, "I didn't come here to arm-wrestle."
"Why did you come?" he asked softly.
"Yes, tell us, why did you come?" asked the fat man.
She-Ra drew her sword so quickly, she nearly gashed his
beer belly. "Ok, all of you, get out! You too, bartender, out!"
"But this is my . . ."
"Out!" They all cleared the room. "Not you, Fisto. Take a
seat." They both sat at another table, clearing the beer mugs and the
corn chips. She placed a hand on his knee. "Fisto . . . I never got a
chance to thank you, for saving my life. Thank you," she said
sweetly. Adora had a strange way of being. One minute she could
be an angry lion, the next, a harmless puppy.
"Y-You're welcome."
"And I'm sorry. I just didn't know."
"What?" he asked.
"How you felt."
"About what?"
"I didn't know that you love me."
Fisto wanted to cry, but the tears would not come out.
"It's not an easy thing for me to say."
"The Sorceress told me, not too long ago."
"What happened with you and . . ."
"Sea Hawk?"
She lowered her eyes. "I told him." If ever there was a frail
creature that walked the plane of Eternia, this was she. Gone was
the warrior woman who burst into the room, throwing mighty Fisto
to the floor and casting everyone out in fear of her. Here was this
little, frightened child. "Oh, Fisto," she sobbed, quivering. "He said
he didn't care. He said it didn't bother him. At first, I believed him.
But things changed. I could feel it. He never looked at me the same
way. He never t-touched me . . . the sa-." Fisto embraced her, not
because he wanted to, though he did, but because she needed it.
"Hold me, Fisto. Hold me."
"I am holding you, Adora."
"But you're different, aren't you," she said, looking up into
his eyes for confirmation. "You fell in love with me, after you
knew . . .," her voice trailed off.
"Yes," he said. "I did. Adora, I don't care about what you
did or who you were. I only care about who you are."
"Do you still love me?" she asked.
He combed her hair gently. "I have never loved anyone but
you. What about m-me?"
She stood up. "Gimme your hand." He lifted his right one.
"No!" she laughed, wiping her tears. "Your other hand!"
She walked him outside. "There is a special place," she said,
"I would like to take you."
"Ok," he said, "but I need to use the bathroom."

Fisto found himself in a lush, green paradise shaded by
immense trees. The ground was soft and pleasant. A narrow brook
ran along his feet. Birds chirping was the only sound. "This," she
said, "is the Whispering Woods."
"Etheria is beautiful!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, and this is my favorite little glen. There is no one
around for miles. I come here to be alone sometimes."
From behind a bush tromped a magnificent, blue and winged
unicorn. "Swift Wind!" he said. "It has been a long time, my friend."
"Yes," she replied, petting his soft mane. "He was so glad to
find me."
"He found you?"
"Yes," she giggled. "Run along now, Swifty."
"Do you want to be alone?" he asked.
She moved closer, only inches from him. "With you."
He blushed. "Yes," he remarked, examining the trees again.
"It is a fine place!"
Touching him now, she blurted, "Would you like to kiss me,
"You sure are forward!" he said, straightening his beard.
"I don't waste time." Lifting herself slightly on her toes to
meet her lips to his, she filled him deeply with her moist and longing
tongue. He staggered momentarily. Then, seeing her smiling there,
arms folding about arms, he searched her glittering eyes to find his
own reflection, and kissed her again.
She-Ra tossed away her head gear, the scabbard that held
her sword, and the belt around her waist. Her tools of war fell to
the ground with a lifeless clunk. She rolled up her gloves letting the
wind take them; then sat on the ground and raised her leg as Fisto
pulled off her boot, lightly kissing her foot, each toe. Her other
boot followed. At last, she reached back to remove her golden
brassier, tossing it aside, freeing her soft, round breasts, her small
pointed nipples.
Acting on her cue, Fisto quickly removed the two folds of
his breast plate armor, revealing his massive, rounded chest. Then
he slipped off his boots, hurling them he cared not where. Finally,
he set down his sword next to hers, and removed his metal hand,
remaining only with his furry underwear.
Adora laid him gently on his back and slid over him, still
with her white loin cloth. Fisto pulled her closer, breast against breast,
gently kissing her arm, up to her shoulder, up to her neck. His beard
tickled her. She giggled. He tasted her ear, her cheek, meeting her lips,
taking her tongue in his, drinking from her mouth. They sat up, continuing
to kiss in each other's embrace. She reached his metal belt and
unlatched it, pulling off his underpants. Her tongue melted into the
wall that was his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. She
caressed his broad shoulders as she slowly, ever so slowly, sucked
her way down every bump and bulge of his upper torso until finding
his penis. She stopped there, not touching it, then stood, backed
away from him, and dropped her loin cloth as if it were a loosely
hanging bath towel, revealing nothing but her clean shaven slit.
Completely naked before him, she was more beautiful than
he could have ever imagined, and his penis reached for her long and
firm. He sat up on his elbows, waiting for her, as she walked
toward him slowly, placing one foot before the other, prolonging
his agony. Pulling him up to a sitting position, she wrapped her legs
around his knees, pushing her weight down on him, breaking her
lips against his waiting, throbbing limb, sinking it deeply into her
yearning womb. She sat there facing him, bathing him in her long
curly red hair, intermingling with his beard, rising and falling as he
pumped her.
They moved with perfect rhythm, their hearts beating as
one. Only then did she know they were meant for each other. She
had been raped enough by the Horde to take on his enormous
penis. It fit her neatly, and she wanted it there; it belonged inside
her. There was a time when sex was a torture, but now it was an
act of love, and she did not understand how after so many years it
could ever come to be this way, so wonderful.
Bending over to bury herself in his crotch, she took his
penis into her mouth, tasting him like a ripe fruit. She played with
his balls, and wet them with her lips, and pumped him into her
throat. When finished, she slammed him on to his back and jumped
on him, cramping his cock into her wet, loose, warm vagina, riding
him again. She liked to ride. She liked to be the aggressor.
He caressed her firm, strong body with his only hand,
running his fingers across her jutting ribs, wishing he had but
another hand of flesh and bone to feel her loveliness. He felt along
her warm stomach as balls of sweat rolled over his thumb; he traced
her belly button with his index finger, every crease and crevice that
made her woman, he wanted it, every part of her, to taste her, to
swallow her, to give up all that was him for her. He reached out for
her long, dangling hair, teasing him, tempting him to steal it, and he
touched it, and it was wet and stuck together in thick chords of
perspiration, but it was like fine silk to him. He would, if he could,
weave it and make a bed out of it, and sleep on it, and never be
without it. She, in turn, played with his firm, thickly muscled chest
and bulging abs. He explored the valleys of her thighs with his
hand, curving over to meet her rear, sliding up to find her
backbone. He cupped each breast with his only hand, and ate them
as if she were his mother. Her hair tumbled over her face and back,
with each stroke flipping sides. She rode him in great strides;
enveloping him in her, and her in him. His firm, hard strokes
penetrated her deeply, sliding with ease.
Tumbling madly in the dirt, he flipped her beneath him,
lifting her feet over his back, continuing to thrust. They made love
for what seemed like hours, and when they were through, shock
waves of pleasure rippled through their naked, intertwined bodies,
Fisto spilling his warm semen into her belly, Adora collapsing on
top of him in exhaustion as if he were a bed, sleeping there the
remainder of the night.

Oh God, I can feel it touching me. I wish I could just close
my eyes and die . . . I wish I was somewhere else, someone else . . .
I wish.
Please, someone hear me; someone help me.
The huge beast bent closer, its ugly yellow-stained teeth
hanging one foot from its gaping maw, its lustful, red pupils burning
into her nakedness.
One claw gripped her tiny waist, as she frightfully awaited
the final, agonizing thrust, clenching her teeth and barring her mind
from any realization of the terrible moment that was to come.
Suddenly, the wall erupted into a heaping pile of bricks. The
monster reared its ugly head. Standing there was Fisto. "I will save
you!" he exclaimed. A horrible tearing, growling sound ensued as
the two wrestled on the floor. Blood and hair spattered the walls,
but when it was all over, Fisto wrenched his bloody sword from the
monster's heart. He tore the manacles from her wrists and opened
the prison gate where a beautiful, green glen awaited them. Adora
could sleep peacefully now. The monster was dead.



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