The princess threw herself onto the couch in a sigh of boredom. She propped her legs and feet up against the other side, eyeing her sandals as she let her legs stretch into a simple yawn. She felt oddly comfortable in pink gown, reaching loosely from her shoulders down to her knees. She instinctively began twirling one of her blonde locks of hair, before screaming at the top of her lungs.

              “I want an entertainer!” Her hand knocked violently unto the nearby coffee table, as her servants ran for cover.

              “Yes, your majesty,” their leader responded, gaining repose as he stood back up in the center of the coffee table next to her pultruding fist. He was used to keeping his composure even when this sixteen-year old brat through her weight. “I will send for one right now.”

              He did not even need to relay his message to his inferiors who were already calling for the nearest entertainer. Soon a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, walked up the staircase leading to the coffee table. He had short brown hair to match his blue eyes. He wore a simple peasant’s shirt and pants, with a guitar tied around his back and right shoulder. He had completed his training about a week ago, and this was his first time entertaining.

              When he got up the stairs, he gasped in fear. He had never seen one of the royal family members this close before. Her size took him by surprise. She gave him no time to take it in and merely picked him up by his left shoulder, dropping him onto her lap. He was desperately dangling before being dropped into the folds of her gown.

              He struggled to untangle himself from the soft fabric of her afternoon attire. The material was silky soft, providing a slippery foothold underneath him. He soon looked up to face her, her massive face beaming back in a look of bored annoyance.

              “Play me a song.”

              He began one of his ballads, a story of her grandmother. Mounting his feet onto the tip of her stomach right below her belly button. He could feel the soft rhythm of her heart coming from the giant mounds of flesh in front of him.

              Thirty seconds in, she heaved a loud yawn. Her chest heaved, and his slight perch turned into a formidable mountain as she took in her oxygen. He found himself tumbling backwards onto her waist, screaming. She giggled uncontrollably at his predicament: he fell straight onto his back. After a few seconds, he regained his footing.

              “I didn’t say to stop playing the music,” she snorted coldly.

              He grabbed his guitar from her chest and resumed the song. Soon she signed again, knocking him over. He tried to resume as fast as he could as she saw her face curl with impatience. He shifted his perch this time, straddling her belly button so that next time something like this happened, he wouldn’t be on such a slanted surface.

              She smirked wildly at this and jutted her stomach inwards causing him to fall over again. He looked at her with a look of desperation, but he could tell by her mischievous face that whatever happened, he needed to keep up his song. He resumed only to have her shift her legs forward slightly, causing him to fall face first onto her breasts. He was knocked onto the ground by her uproarious laughter. He tried to crawl backwards as the two mounds in front of her bounced up and down in front of him. He was standing on an earthquake of movement, however. At first her chest’s heaves knocked him backwards, and then forwards, and then to the side. Unsure what happened, he found his face pinched between her to two boobs, with the rest of his body stuck against the outside.

              Her finger pried him violently from its prison. He fell over gasping for air to look at her reddened face. He could only stare back in fear.

              “Continue playing,” she demanded, obviously flustered by how much she enjoyed his earlier predicament.

              He began again. A few seconds later, though, to his relief, he heard the queen call: “Dinner!!!”

              Like clockwork, she sat herself up, knocking the tiny musician onto her lap. “Coming,” she called back.

              She stood up, forgetting that he was there. He fell harshly onto the wood floor, his leg too injured to move. He looked up in horror her sandal came down on top of him.

              Her mind was on her food as she ran to dinner. She never put any more thought into her former Sunday afternoon muse.