Even after being covered with spittle and breath that wasn’t all too fresh, Goethe couldn’t help but smirk at Helen’s reaction to his playful jab. Her cheeks quickly colored, so much in fact that her hair seemed listless in comparison. The smirk did not last, however, as he saw her quickly draw in a deep breath, his hair flying up towards her mouth. A rush of warm air sent him rolling backwards into headboard of his bed. If you play with fire, you’re going to get burned, Goethe remarked to himself as he rubbed the back of his head, aching somewhat from the collision.

“I don’t doubt that you are up now”, Helen said with an indignant scowl, “hopefully my strong breath didn’t put you too out of sorts”. She slowly began to rise to her full height, trying to look as imposing as possible. Goethe had to crane his neck all the way up in order to maintain a semblance of eye contact. I hate when she does that, as if she wasn’t already big enough. But as he continued looking his annoyance lessened somewhat. Well, it doesn’t hurt to look at things from different perspectives, he thought as his throat went dry.

Though she may have eaten breakfast and readied her hair for the day, Helen had yet to change out of her nightgown. Summer nights in Tamara were not known for being cold; and the lighter the nightgown was, the more comfortable a lady slept. The light, white gown, hemmed with yellow, clung to Helen’s body, displaying her figure.

Her gown was cut well low of the neck, revealing the tops of two impossibly white breasts that swayed gently from her rising motion. The royal pendent, an oval amber stone encased in gold and hanging from a polished, gold chain, rested in her cleavage, though it seemed to be slowly swallowed up by her breasts with each breath.

Goethe noticed that the gown was slightly damp around her armpits and under her bosom, which had some beads of sweat on top lazily moving towards her cleavage. Helen had never been able to sleep that well during summer nights, and after particularly hot nights her gown would cling tightly to her slick body, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

Although the walls of his room where blocking his view of her navel and legs, from experience Goethe knew that her legs where almost scandalously exposed by cuts in the gown that went up to her upper thigh. She didn’t care about her exposed legs, she could only be a lady about so many things as she had told Goethe many times before.

His eyes were drawn to her enormous breasts, and he tried to see how tightly the gown had clung today…Stop that! He chided himself, keep your mind out of pig sty! He shook his head, as if such an action would get rid of those kind of thoughts. He couldn’t understand it, but for some reason his thoughts became more and more like that with each passing day. However, this time he didn’t really need to chide himself, because when he caught Helen’s eyes again, he gave a slow gulp. She really is mad this time, maybe she did eat dung. The thought would have made him laugh out loud had not laughter died before it started as he wilted under the severity of her glare.

“I should have you punished for treating your princess with such contempt” Helen stated with such coldness that Goethe shuttered. A long paused followed, and finally Goethe said “I’m sorry…your highness”. Helen’s cool stare was immediately replaced with a loving look, and her silence was broken by a fit of laughter. Now it was Goethe’s turn to go red in the face, she always manages to make me look like the fool in the end.

Goethe stepped out of his room, he couldn’t help but notice that the door was on its last leg. She could apologize for vandalizing my house, the overgrown lout, he thought, wincing as he felt the door wobble when he closed it behind him. An immaculate white hand descended out of the sky, resting right in front of him and tilting towards him. With a sigh he climbed on.

Goethe could understandably be cowed by any hands that had thumbs as big as he was tall. He had had bad experiences with several of the serving girls. Though the fawning over him wasn’t too bad, occasionally a girl would forgot that she was holding him and use the hand he was in to cover a cough or wipe a running nose. One time a young servant that was carrying him was frightened by a stray cat and crushed him in an iron grip without thinking. The broken leg was enough for Helen to formally declare that no one but herself would carry Goethe from then on. He also had to spend some time convincing her not to punish the poor girl.

Helen’s hands, however, were the safest places to be. She had quickly learned to handle him as soon as she received him as a present on her fifth birthday. Which was good, because he remembered that he cried every time there was even a hint of a bump while she was carrying him, though a vigorous backrub and a torrent of soothing words quickly calmed him down.

He settled himself in the center of her soft palm. She gave off a sweet smell of lavender. Slender fingers began to curl instinctively around him.

On the table where his room sat, her hand was perfectly level with her navel. The gown hugged hips that would make most women jealous. Goethe caught a quick glimpse of her outer thighs, that gown was cut higher than I thought!  He noted that the cut ended just before it reached her pelvis. He swallowed hard as his eyes followed those marble-like legs all the way down to the floor, revealing two well-kept feet. Goethe also saw that her inner thighs were only barely covered by the gown, and her groin seemed to pull at the gown.

He was snapped out his trance as the hand began to rise, bringing him closer to her chest. The smell of her stale sweat mixed with soap overpowered him. The closer he got to her breasts, the more he could swear that he heard the beating of her heart, which seemed quicker than usual. He choked when her hand came to be level with her breasts. Small mountains to him that heaved with every breath. The vast white landscape of the top of her bosom was occasionally broken by a freckle. Being this close, Goethe couldn’t help but see every detail of her bosom that the gown was trying to hide.

Thankfully, Goethe didn’t have too much time to gawk, for he soon found himself eye level with Helen. Gentle gusts of warm breath ruffled his hair, I am glad she is breathing through her nose this time, he thought gratefully. Focusing squarely on him, green eyes sparkled as they reflected the morning sun…or maybe that was just her own good nature shining forth, he doubted that last thought very much.

“Why do you always have be to such a handful in the morning” Helen said, suppressing a chuckle at what she must of thought was clever wordplay.

Goethe merely sighed and tried to rearrange his hair, which was becoming harder to do with each breath she took.

“Well, you can still catch a glimpse of the sunrise” she said as she walked close to one of the openings in her room. She lowered Goethe to be level with her chest as she rested her other hand against one of the stones that made up the ledge before opening. Her thumb was gently caressing his hair, which caused it to become disheveled again. “What’s the point of trying”, he muttered in a low voice so Helen couldn’t hear him. Whatever other complaints that Goethe wanted to express died on his lips as he turned to look out the opening.

Tamara was certainly a beautiful kingdom, at least what little portions Goethe saw were. From Helen’s room high up in the castle, he could see roofs of houses from the city below, morning sunlight reflecting off roof tiles. He noticed that the cobbled streets had the makings of a throng of people milling about their morning chores. Maybe it is later than I thought, Goethe grimaced slightly, knowing without looking that Helen had a smug smile of justification on her lips.

Past the stone walls that enclosed the town, he saw vast stretches of farmland that rolled along uninterrupted save for the occasional barn and windmill. The main highway that began at the castle and ran all the way to the eastern frontier bore the distinct shapes of traders with their lumbering horses and laden carts making their way to the city market in hopes of selling their wares.

Beyond the farmland and the highway weaving seamlessly through it was a vast forest, the Queen’s Sylvan. It seemed to stretch beyond the horizon, giving it the impression that it was a green ocean with the farmland serving as its shore. It undulated wavelike with every hill and valley; the fact that no single tree was discernible from the castle only added to the impression.

As a gentle morning breeze found its way through the opening of the high tower where Helen’s room lay, Goethe let out a plaintive sigh. The sight certainly was beautiful, and Goethe always felt overwhelmed by its majesty. But it also left him empty. I don’t think I will ever be able to see this land from any place other than this tower, He bit his lip as he wrestled with this recurring problem.

Being the size of a thimble had inhibited Goethe’s mobility in a world so clearly not meant for him. Helen always made sure that she had an eye on him, save for when she left the castle, then he was in the care of her old nurse, Rena. And being a princess, the heir apparent to be exact, Helen herself didn’t move with much freed, being confined mainly to her studies. Though a walk in the perennial garden was granted to her daily – the highlight of both their days – Goethe wanted more time to explore. Goethe would have felt worse about being prohibited about leaving the castle, let alone Helen’s room, if Helen had not been so considerate about his loneliness.

But as of late, along with the increasingly embarrassing thoughts he had for Helen, Goethe was feeling more and more the desire to go out into the world. Must be a side effect of growing up, he was after all the same age as Helen who was now eighteen years old. At least I think I’m the same age …I don’t really know.

Pushing unsettling thoughts out his head, Goethe looked up at Helen. He was surprised to see that her gaze was already leveled on him, greens eyes focused, yet unfocused at the same time. He felt a slight rush of air as she raised him slightly above her bosom, which was moving to the regular rhythm of her breath, rising and falling with an almost hypnotic motion.

After a short silence and a look that told him that she was going to say something, she swallowed hard, the noise reverberating in Goethe’s ears.

“Goethe, I…” Helen started suddenly, but demurred just as suddenly. A short pause followed before she summoned the courage to speak again. “Goethe, I want to say someth…” she was cut off, as a knock on the door made her clamp her mouth shut.

“Enter.” Helen said, regaining composure so quickly that Goethe blinked in surprise. An elderly woman, bent over with age and with hoary hair done in a matronly bun, poked her head in. “Will little Goethe be wantin’ some food?” Rena said, not at all perturbed at entering into the princess’ room without a customary bow.

Before Goethe could even get a word in, Helen replied, composure giving way to irritation, “I have already cut up some fruit for him.”

“Eh, that so?” Rena queried, unable to stifle a chuckle. “You’re a better nurse than I’m”, the chuckle gave way to laughter.

Helen spun around to glare at Rena, nearly giving Goethe whiplash. “You will not address your princess in such a tone! I am no nurse, but your future Queen!” She ended, puffing up her chest in a haughty fashion.

Rena’s laughter did not subside. “A nurse you may not be, aye. But a Queen? Certainly not in that gown.” She said in an amused smile.

Helen’s face flashed a crimson blush, which seemed to creep down to the top of her breasts. “I…I…didn’t have time…”she said meekly, looking down at the nightgown as if it was little better than wearing nothing at all. But she quickly rallied herself and stated with some promptness that she would change now. Her eyes darted to Goethe, looking to upbraid him for any comment he might have on the matter, but he whistled softly, looking down and tracing his finger along the lines of her palm. I am not as big a fool as she thinks.

Rena smiled warmly, clearly Helen was as endearing to her as ever. She bowed her head and began to make her way out of the room. But before she could go, Helen ask her a favor: “Rena, I need you to change my sheets again”. Her face grew to a brighter crimson than Goethe thought possible. “I…sweated through the bedding once more”, she said almost in a whisper.

Rena simply nodded, “of course, your highness. I will get right on it”. Goethe wasn’t sure, but he thought that Rena had a knowing smile on her face.

She’s been having troubled nights for a while now, Goethe observed to himself. More than once in the past few nights, Goethe had awakened to the sound of subdued moaning coming from Helen. When he stepped out of his room to see what she was doing, all he could make out in the darkness was her giant form writhing under the blankets. Sometimes she would let out a slight scream before cutting it off and becoming motionless. He had asked her if she was having nightmares, but her curt reply that she was fine and the icy stare she would give him told him not to broach the subject anymore.

As Rena shut the door behind her, Helen let out an angry breath of air. “One subject of mine thinks something died in my mouth, another thinks of me as a nurse!” Her anger quickly gave way to worry, the fire in her eyes diminishing.  “Want if I don’t have my people’s respect?” she said, in a quavering voice that betrayed all the self-doubt that had pounced on her so quickly. There she goes again, but I guess it’s only natural, Goethe thought with a touch of empathy. As big as she was, Helen still had her own worries, like him.

He patted the thumb that was now rubbing him almost into oblivion. “Your subjects will think you are as just as you are kind” he said with a matter-of-fact tone, looking directly into eyes that were somewhat moist. She smiled at that, but that quickly turned into a frown when he added that many of her subjects didn’t have to smell her breath. “Fool!” she growled as her hand closed around him tightly. In darkness, he felt an upward motion. Before he could register what was happening, the hand opened slightly to reveal an open mouth. A dark cave, surrounded with pearly white teeth, emitted a blast of hot breath. Globs of spit and food flew at him, along with an all too familiar smell. With a laugh, Helen closed her hand not allowing the hot breath to escape. “A just punishment I should think” She laughed mirthfully as Goethe gagged, wiping her breakfast off his face. Bacon.