Soon, the eyelids of the princess began to flutter, and it was clear that my cure had proved efficacious.  She started and shook her head mildly in bewilderment and confusion, then screamed when she saw me standing over her - a natural reaction to awakening from a year-long slumber to discover a strange man in one's chamber.  She, blushing, attempted to cover her nakedness, but I assured her I was a physician, and she must remain unencumbered for now, for the process of her cure was not yet complete.  There remained but one more stage: after an hour, the translucent yellow, eviscerated, pus-leaking husk of her former heart evacuated from the same place where had earlier the tarantula embarked upon its journey.

Now, the treatment was done, and I allowed the princess to pull her sleeping-dress upon her.  She expressed desire to stand and move about, but I insisted she remain abed.  A period of rest amounting to a week would be required before her new heart would be strong enough and experienced enough in its required duties to support her in more strenuous circumstances than those of lying motionless under warm covers.  When the king beheld his daughter alive and well, his gratitude was so overwhelming that he commanded me to take the place of his court physician (whose rotted skull was given pride of place in the Trophy Tomb).

As often occurs in cases wherein a young maiden is cured of some terrible malady by a handsome, young physician, the princess developed quite a powerful attachment to me.  I being the court physician and she being the king's daughter, we existed in continuous proximity: I was unable to escape the darting glances, the blushing encounters in the halls of the castle, the hand-clasped bosoms whene'er I passed, etcetera, &c.  Perhaps the feeling that she owed her life to me motivated her infatuation, or perhaps she felt some genuine attraction to me - not a proposition unheard of - or perhaps the tarantula that was her heart felt a kinship with me, its former master.  Whatever the reason may be, it is certain that my life as court physician was not the most comfortable or propitious that may be imagined.  For it would not befit the daughter of a king to marry or carry on a relationship of less than wholesome quality with the lowly court physician, who although revered as the healer and saviour of the princess herself, nonetheless did not carry within his veins the thick, divinely originated blood of Royalty, which may not be corrupted by mixing with the thin, watery juices of the common folk.  If such a thing were to be suspicioned, then it might prove dangerous to me: my head would join those of my fellows in the Trophy Tomb after all.

As time passed, it became increasingly difficult to evade her less and less subtle entreaties.  She would discover all kinds of excuses to see me: her head ached so, and could I prescribe some salve or pill to ease her pain? her arm, there was a twinge, could I massage it perhaps with some soothing ointment? her thighs, they ached terribly, could I examine them, for she was certain she could overcome her modesty in lifting her dress to improve my medical access to that region? her bosom, it itched, etcetera, &c.  She contrived all manner of ailments to encourage my explorations of her body, which provided no small amount of pleasure to her; for when she believed I could not see, she would recline her head and dissolve into her ecstasy at the touch of my hands on her body.  She being the princess, I could contrive no way of disobeying her commands to examine her, and so I did as she wished, although I knew well, no good could come of it.

Thus grew the amorous princess's advances until one day, the entire affair came to a dramatic conclusion.  I sat at my desk in my office, reading over an ancient, only recently unearthen manuscript pertaining to the divers ways in which the "magickal doorways to heathen realms" may be accessed and utilized, when in burst the princess, her bosom heaving mightily.  Tears streamed down her cheeks and adorned with dewy droplets the extreme ends of her lashes.  Her hair was in much disarray, and she appeared to have been exercising heavily, most likely in running from her chamber to mine, no small distance, for her flesh was in a state of most florid flush.

"Physician," she cried, "Dissemblance is no longer within my power!  Your figure and form both have enchanted me so consummately that I am helpless any longer to resist the call of my loins!"

I folded shut the soft vellum of my precious manuscript and took a draft from the fine wine I had been savoring all that morning.  "My dear princess, I applaud the discernment of feeling as well as the vast courage which takes you here into my offices this moment, but I must protest -"

"No!  You, physician, shall not protest!  Ever since mine eyes were opened to a newly coloured world and I beheld you dancing with the light like a magickal fairie, I have desired the continued sustenance of your art.  But no longer shall your hands practice upon my flesh in the austere medical manner!  Doctor you may be in art, but in body you shall be my lover!  Henceforward, your fingers shall seek not the cure of my flesh, but the rapture of it!  This is my command by the will of God whom you are sworn to serve!"

Here, the princess brushed aside the cloak which she had been wearing to reveal that there was nothing beneath but rosy, pliant skin.  The supple breasts quivered with her passion, and soon quivered about my cheeks.  I can not deny that certain pleasures may be had of the flesh, and thus I shall not deny that I did take those certain pleasures of this very flesh I have described.

It was at this state of affairs that the king himself strolled into my chambers, prepared to complain of some minor malady which had been bothering him for some little time.  The sight which greeted him was one which struck him into the veriest core of his being: here was the roseate, supple flesh of his daughter, all exposed to the world and defiled by the touch of a man - not merely a man - less than a man - a common man-a man whose blood did not run thick with the divine grace of God.  The princess screamed upon sight of her father and ran to snatch her cloak up and drape it about her body, but the king's rage prevented her.  He grasped her by her arms and bellowed with all the force of his lungs into her face, and she trembled and quaked with fear and desolation.  The king's madness was so severe that he slipped out of the Royal We in order to speak his very personal tirade.

"My only daughter a commoner's whore!  There is no sickness so severe could exculpate the sin, nor alchemical artifice so arcane could diminish its magnitude!  Thou'rt defiled utterly, the grace of God in thy veins replaced by turpitude, and it shall therefore be in the vilest turpitude thou'rt punished!"

He hauled her by the hair to my desk and hurled her down upon it, unbuttoning his trousers and releasing from its lair his Man-Dragon, swollen not with desire but with revulsion; he plunged it into her quivering loins.  She screamed her agony in echoes through my chamber, and much blood flowed forth: she collapsed - her head dangled limp - her breathing ceased.  The king, oblivious, continued to pump his anger into her inert feminine vertex until he himself screamed with agony.  He withdrew his Man-Dragon post-haste: attached to its scarlet, swollen nose, pincers sunk in deep and fast, was the tarantula spider which the king's passion had driven from its home in his daughter's bosom.