Tilly looks out across the vast curling purple plains with dread. Confusion settles in as her eyes trace the gentle slopes, eventually forming large, unconquerable cliff faces. Her gaze snaps to Greg, still in a naked sloppy mess beside her.

“Appalling.”, she thinks out loud, disdain prevalent in her tone. Unlike the boy at her feet, Tilly’s white silken dress sits relatively pristine on her dainty shoulders. Despite everything, her dress looks magnificent, correctly fretted over as always.

              Struggling to keep an air of elegance, Tilly racks her brain for ideas, desperately searching for an explanation. She thinks back to the gala they’d attended only hours earlier. The prince had swept them off their feet, leading to a night straight from a storybook. Drinking, flirtatious remarks, and eventually, sensual pleasures of the flesh.

Of course, she knew better than to be caught nude in the prince’s bedroom. Or clothed, for that matter. She’d donned a party mask before entering, one that she had been close to ripping the room apart to find before falling ill. When Tilly finally came too, she awoke fully clothed in this confusing landscape of endless purple.

                It takes the women of noble blood far longer than she's comfortable admitting, but after scrutinizing the peachy surface before her, suddenly, the mountain of shapes all make sense. She glances around the area again; huge sweeping hills all seem to bleed together into one focal point. Tilly nearly drops to her knees in a panic as it all comes together, just barely managing to keep ahold of her composure.

               This so-called ‘mountain’ was no geological marvel. No, it’s not rocky terrain but a sheer landscape of flesh that sat before Tilly. Tears stream down her face as she’s overwhelmed with the sudden knowledge and all the context it brings. Still reeling, the noble tries to control her breathing and ultimately calm her addled mind. How could something like this be possible? The dignified lady wonders, her mind jolting back to the days when her nursemaids would read her fairytales, ones of powerful sorcerers and treacherous wizards. Yet, she’d always thought of them as fake—something to calm the tots who refused sleep.

               However, the evidence was irrefutable. Tilly’s eyes scan the impossibly massive form of the sleeping prince, only just barely managing to make out his blurry, unfocused body shape with her naked eyes. He’s so inconceivable in scale, or moreover, she’s just that small. She doubts even a hundred people her size would have any trouble fitting atop a newly minted coin.

Before all this absurdity, the four of them enjoyed an evening of leisure. High on life and company, the most expensive mead coin could buy lining their gullets and resting warmly in their bellies. Is this the price they'll have to pay for having such a sinful night? For embracing their sexualities and desires?

Tilly’s eyes drift down, tracing Greg's disheveled form with a hint of confusion. When did this dashing guest enter the fold? How did they meet? His name comes to her right away, as do their lewd acts. The latter half of the night seemed to be blurring together. The pieces are all there, albeit frustratingly jumbled. 

Among the dozens of questions gnawing at her, one stands out as far more pertinent than the rest. Where’s Emily? The girl whose body she had so fervently explored last night is nowhere in sight. Tilly winces, her mind running wild with anxiety over the potential state of her presumably shrunken companion.

“Emily….” She whispers under her breath, holding her hands firmly to her chest in worry.

             Ironically, the girl is closer than Tilly could ever know. She lies past the disheveled sheet gracing prince Eli’s immaculate complexion. Emily is one of Tilly's closest confidants and yet another blue blood swept up by the prince’s unparalleled charm. However, she's far from helpless. Trudging forward among uneven and borderline perilous terrain, her long red dress spun of the finest silks is hiked far up her waist. The daughter of noble lineage holds the fabric steady with two hands, finding it the only way to maneuver in such an unwieldy garment.

Emily isn’t as clued in as her companion, missing crucial context due to the concealing nature of the blanket. Not only does it obscure her view, but the layer of darkness muddies the details. However, even with visibility low, she cheers herself on silently, refusing to rest until she understands precisely what’s going on. She'll leave no rock left unturned! Somebody would be made accountable for whatever is going on. Of that, Tilly is confident.

             She pushes onward, a dark canopy shielding her from little rays of natural light. A thin layer of moisture cloys at the very air surrounding Emily. An unmistakable scent drifting up around her: The pervasive smell of sex. However, silently she reasons that perhaps it’s her. Maybe she could use a nice long soak in the private bathhouse to free her flesh of the traces still lingering from last night. Which isn't a problem for her, as she convinces herself she'll soon be free of this damnable maze she's found herself in.

The posh noble girl catches herself withdrawing from her thoughts and narrowly avoids walking straight into an object blocking her path. In the darkness, she struggles to make any sense of its appearance, deciding to run a hand gently along its surface. It's a last-ditch effort and a supreme shot in the dark to discern any clues to her whereabouts.

 Reaching out with an air of caution, Emily rests a hand daintily against a smooth, slightly oily texture. Warmth radiates through her fingertips, alarming her as she realizes it's... pulsating? No, breathing!

"Oh, heavens! Nononono!" Tilly covers her mouth with a shaky hand.

She stumbles backward with a shriek, slipping on the frills of her dress as she falls squarely on her generous rump, her eyes wide in disbelief. Whatever lay before her is undeniably alive. Her mind races, fresh worries cropping up left and right. What could it be? A monster? A dragon?

A moment of clarity hits her like a bolt of stray lighting. The scent invading her very nostrils, the omnipresent darkness, and the impossible breathing wall of flesh before her. It's suddenly so obvious! Somehow, she'd diminished, clothes and all. She shakes her head, feeling like such a fool. Everything made so much sense now. Yet, the answers only spawn more questions.

Pulling her dress over her shoulders, Emily lifts it over and allows the garb to flutter slowly towards the ground. Wearing that stuffy thing would only hamper her efforts. She needed to be nimble for what came next.

She scans the steep slope carefully with her limited vision, taking a deep breath as she steps towards it. The obstacle she now recognized as a thigh is at an angle, meaning a climb is more than feasible! Grabbing a handful of soft flesh, she decides enough time has already been wasted and starts to climb with some genuine urgency. 

It's not easy in any sense. Even without the restrictions of the ball gown, Emily nearly slips several times over. With a bit of luck, however, she reaches the top. Pulling herself over and onto relatively flat land. She pants incessantly, unable to will her body forward. How could she possibly continue? She hadn’t exerted herself so hard in her entire life! Was this how the royal help felt?

As Emily lays briefly in rest, Tilly tries her hardest to raise Greg from a seemingly impenetrable slumber outside the fabric prison. She shakes him vigorously, panic showing in her voice and eyes.

 "Greg! Please!" With little effect, she jerks the naked man back and forth by his disheveled shoulders.

"Hmm? Ehhhh…" He jolts up for only a brief moment before falling backward in a sleepy stupor.

"Ugh! Insufferable man!” Tilly lashes out, unsure if the bottom feeder has even registered the words leaking from her lips.

She can feel the water welling behind her eyes and places a set of slender hands over her face just as the tears begin to flow. For the first time since childhood, she feels powerless. Alone with no plan.

Underneath the prince's blanket, Emily rises gradually to her feet, something in the distance immediately drawing her attention. It’s immense, some monolith jutting high into the sky! But it’s hard to make out in the veil of darkness currently over her. Light is still scarce, and Emily has no choice but to venture closer to identify the structure.

             That’s when it hits her, the unmistakable fragrance of sex—the pleasant musk of someone's most intimate area. Gears turn furiously in her head as her chin points upwards. No sooner does she see it than a throaty scream escapes her rosy lips. She’s awestruck, too flustered to mumble anything coherent as her jaw unconsciously drops.

She gazes up at a cock more extensive than any castle. The thick slab of meat both terrifies and arouses her all at once. Emily finds herself entranced by its mere presence. Something about the way it presents itself seems almost prideful. The woman rests a trembling hand on the hardened length before her, taking several steps forward until her very cheek rests along its circumference.

              Living flesh pulses beneath her touch, a heartbeat easily discernible just below its thin surface. A pleasant musk wafts off the dizzying structure, enveloping her in a thick and seemingly inescapable fog. A part of her wants to stop and enjoy the scents, to pleasure herself and indulge as she had last night. 

Briefly, she wonders how something so big could have ever fit inside her. Something once so wonderfully average had become a beast she could not hope to survive.

             Regardless of the dangers, Emily feels the blush come across her face. She knows now isn’t the time, but before she can work through these urges, the entire world flips on its head. 

A hand comes barreling down from far beyond the blanket, crashing through and obliterating the erotic atmosphere. The posh brunette squeaks out an unheard scream as the hand clamps around the base of the prince’s cock, smothering her against smooth skin. With a loud groan from high up above, the hand glides upwards as Eli decides to take care of some early morning frustration.

             He drags her limp and fragile body along the stiff shaft with ease, leaving a minuscule streak across the very bottom of the royal cock. He pulls a careful hand upwards, unknowingly decimating a life, smearing Emily’s entire body into the healthy and well-hydrated skin of his shaft. A whole lifetime of posh parties, gossiping with friends, and even a courtship with the Duke of Tworage. All boiled down to being a streak on the prince's perfectly maintained cock. 

No longer was she to be wed to a powerful lord, her whole future dashed by primal early morning lust. It's a death that is so pathetic; not even her shrunken lovers are privy to the details. Even now, neither Greg, Tilly, or Eli himself are aware of what grim results his early morning heat has produced.

             One might even argue Emily had gotten off easy, all things considered, as the worst is yet to come. Unaware of her confidant's demise, Tilly stands in worry next to a groggy and confused Greg, listening as their gigantic prince releases a mighty sigh, one that Tilly feels could wake the very gods themselves had they been present. Worried, she takes an unconscious step back as a flurry of motions can be seen from their spot below.

             Finally, Greg realizes something is wrong. Jumping to attention just in time for Eli’s shapely butt to come crashing down on top of him and Tilly. It’s so quick; neither of them has time to process what’s happening before tons of ass flesh are upon them.

Tilly and Greg disappear beneath as the young royal rolls over and calls for assistance, seeking no one else. His majesty scans the room with a yawn that can only be described as vaguely posh. Smacking his lips lazily, he's perplexed they'd left him in such a rush. Quite rude after how generous he'd been last night. No matter, he’s sure they had duties to attend to, choosing not to blame anybody but himself for his current ‘problem.’ 

A question weighs on him: how much liquor had he consumed at the banquet? Being a relatively light sleeper,r he's outright perplexed that they'd managed to sneak out without waking him. However, he decides it's best not to stew, making a mental note to drink something with far less strength next time. 

Still, he doesn't dare doubt himself. Knowing he needs to be confident, forceful even as a royal family member. Even if that very attitude was frequently at odds with his true self. As a Prince, he had a responsibility to the people. He needed to be strong, sure of every action! How could he possibly hope to sit atop the throne if he wasn’t?

               “Maids!” He calls out again, expectantly. His desires interrupt the insecurities that plague him. If the party-goers weren’t willing to go for another round, then the servants would suffice. He waits several moments, the air contradictory as it seems to buzz loudly with an ominous silence. A faint growl of frustration rises from the lower recesses of his throat. This wasn’t like the servants typically assigned to his quarters. Typically, they were eager and ready to help with even the most minor issues.

Accepting the lack of response as a potential mixup, Eli rises from his bed, his smooth and flawless complexion on full display to the maids he’d only just been calling for, staring up from under his door in awe. 

Beth had only just been posted to the Prince's chambers for the first time this morning; her job was obvious: stand outside and await any instructions from the kingdom’s golden son. 

She’d been nervous, worried about what the Prince might ask of her. Worried she might mess up. Now, Beth is in awe. Having snuck under the generous door frame after hearing Prince Eli stir, the last sight she would have ever expected was the one she saw. He looked immaculate. His skin was beautiful, radiant with just the right amount of color. However, his most distinctive feature is the perfectly shaped cock jutting out from his petite yet athletic frame. Her eyes are glued to it, looking more like a ship ready for war than a sexual organ.

She gulps, wondering if that’s the reason he’d called for their services. Though, something suddenly strikes her; where had her partner gone? Beth can’t recall seeing her since she’d arrived at her post. The glaze of the early morning’s still thick over the skyline.

Amanda, Beth’s supposed partner for the day, is somewhat unique among the peasant class of the castle, being a permanent attendant for the Prince. Duties were always split up and shared across the hired help, yet Amanda is always requested. Day in and day out, Beth always saw her standing just outside the chambers, waiting for the prince's call. 

For the first time since she arrived here, a part of her envies Amanda, perhaps to the point of outright jealousy. It beat cleaning the privy, that much she’s sure of. Idly, Beth can't help but wonder, was the Prince a selfish lover or a generous one?

            BOOOM

            Beth is yanked from her daydream as a princely foot makes contact with the ground. She falls flat on her but with a yelp, dirtying the frills of her outfit. Beth is aware of the danger she’s in, but some part of her refuses to look away.

With only the tiniest of stretches and a short yawn, the young prince walks next door to his adjoining bathroom, the length of his cock slapping hard against his lightly toned belly with each movement. His arousal stands firmly at attention, and he makes no effort to hide it, choosing to display it proudly. His problem sticks out noticeably from his body, its immensity jostling back and forth in conjunction with his stride. The feminine figure is entirely unaware of the show he’s putting on for one very red-faced maid as he makes a move towards the bathroom. 

Pushing open the solid oak door with a creak of the iron-cast hinges, he takes a deep breath as his foot touches cold tile, a genuine smile stretching across his face. In his mind, nothing could ever dream of beating the satisfying feeling of an early morning dip!

Immediately, Prince Eli met the familiar sights of perfectly polished porcelain countertops and painted stone walls lining the washroom. His bare feet reach the crudely tiled floor, slapping loudly against them as he takes several steps towards the beautiful basin. A bath should help get it all going, the blonde figures, observing the linen-draped neatly over the side of the tub. He's glad to have something only an arm’s length away to dry off afterward.

Running a hand through his messy hair, Eli pulls the drawstring from the side of the tub, and a series of noises sound from behind the wall, producing a wooden shute. Its design is careful and polished, manufactured by a skilled carpenter on special orders. Crystal clear spring water cascades down, and Eli’s worries begin to fade into an unpleasant cloud. Carefully, he dips a foot inside, testing the waters before plunging the rest of his body into the rapidly filling tub.

The sweat and sex from the last night ooze off of his rested body, claimed by the heated liquid. The water bending around his frame as he sinks beneath the gentle waves, taking a moment to soak it all in. Still adjusting to the temperature, he glances at a life-size portrait on the wall next to where he walked in. Another beautiful piece, one he’d commissioned directly from his good friend Pierre. He has always been exceptional in his trade, even among a kingdom whose denizens are known for artistic talent. Perhaps it's about time I make another request, Eli muses.

The painting itself is framed in shining silver, depicting a beautiful well-endowed woman laying right beside a man of equal beauty, both of them eagerly enjoying each other's company. The woman's lips buried deep into the man's neck. It's far from classy, but he never worried too strenuously about his quarters’ appearances. Especially now, as he’s focused on the task at hand.

So concentrated that he overlooks the microscopic speck on the ceramic coated rim, vying for his attention. Amanda waves frantically at the Prince, who steps right over her with relative ease. For just a moment, her heart skips, fear making her blood run cold as his massive body passes by, the wind alone throwing her down hard onto her face.

Crack

Amanda trembles, unable to steady her shaking hands long enough to rise back to her feet. Tears flood her vision as she wipes her freshly bloodied chin. She'd realized her plight much sooner than the others, recalling the hushed talks with the castle staff over Lord Edwin's abode. A whole castle of nobles vanishing? She knew the culprit had to be sorcery! Magic at this scale is not only authentic but scarily enough, becoming far more commonplace as the days go by.

Each week, she hears a new tragedy come down the grapevine. Just yesterday, the royal baker had lost his life trying a spell meant to replace the stone oven that had long been staples of castle kitchens. She doesn’t envy the widow that survived him; her husband burnt to ashes. Not even enough of him remained to lay his unfortunate soul to rest.

Amanda's goals narrowed with this precursory knowledge, settling on survival at any cost. She hadn't even bothered waiting for the new girl to regain her wits as time had been of the essence. Knowing the Prince's routine perfectly, she contemplated a plan of attack. Climb the tub using the linen she'd set up last night and capture Eli's gaze as he soaked.

However, during her mad dash for the tub, Eli had been sound asleep. Now? The Prince sat right in front of her, nude and stunningly radiant as always. The massive difference in size only serves to embolden each action he takes. Something the tenured housekeeper finds herself strangely drawn to, despite the dire circumstances. The natural light from the morning sun shines brightly through the adjacent window, making his majesty glisten from head to toe. His body is so soft and tender in all the right places.

Amanda tries to regain her bearings, while an unaware Eli lets a hand slide over to his shaft, caressing it with a hand while he stares longingly at the beautiful lady perched upon his wall. He’s picturing the redhead from last night, her Auburn hair in the muses stead. The young man groans at the very idea of her rosy lips around the tip of his cock, how wonderful it would feel at her lightest touch. What he wouldn’t do for another stroke of her gentle hand.

A tinge of disappointment rises from his gut, wondering what he’d done to make her forgo even the briefest of goodbyes. Unfortunately, there's no answer to be found in the collection of scrambled memories he's still holding onto from last night. Nonetheless, dwelling on it would do him no good. Coming to terms with the situation, he throws his neck back, sinking further into the steamy waters while he loses himself to fantasy.

Meanwhile, Tilly and Greg fight for their lives directly beneath his intoxicating physique. The tides gnaw at their tiny bodies, threatening to rip them from their dank, loosely contained prison of flesh. The pair barely manage to stay afloat, the very crevice of his royal hindquarters providing suction for their insignificant mass, something proving to be both a temporary boon and a curse in their current predicament.

Suddenly, before they have a chance to regain their bearings, the tides shift. Tilly watches in horror as Greg gets sucked from their only bastion of safety, violently pulled out into the rugged clear seas of the bath. And just like that, she’s alone. Soaked and barely able to stay afloat, gasping greedily at the little air she has left in the sweltering pocket.

Uncaring of Tilly's plight, the world decides to shift once again, an unbelievable amount of force behind each motion. Groans reverberate from up ahead. They’re soft, feminine, but distinctly male. After last night, it would be impossible not to be intimately familiar with who they belonged to. They were noises the young lady heard plenty of, right after the group had slipped out of that dreadfully stuffy gala. 

Thinking fast, she glances around the barely illuminated alcove, finding only a few stubby and recently shaved hairs. Despite the direness of the situation, Tilly can't help but marvel at his hygiene. How did the Prince get so immaculately smooth? The concept of such a close shave astounds her.

Spacey, as always, the noble loses her chance. She's pulled under the waves for a moment, incredible amounts of suction generated by the sheer force being expensed against the water. It latches onto her with its otherworldly strength, and Tilly panics as she loses all sense of direction in the blink of an eye. Nevertheless, luck’s on her side as a subtle movement throws her upward, back to the tight crevice.

She coughs, water pouring out of her lungs with each ragged hack. Lightheaded, she fumbles for one of the stubs, not willing to wait around for the next mishap. Tilly clutches onto one of several short hairs, grasping it with her shaking hands. She can't seem to calm her breathing, hyperventilating as she fixates on the winking hole laying in wait just above her. Its subtle twitches move in conjunction with the waves nipping at her lower half. Tilly's head swirls with emotions and questions as she clings on and shuts her eyes tight, tears leaking down her already soaked face.

All the while, having woken up just minutes before, Greg is unfairly sent adrift, stuck orbiting the Prince’s finely shaped rear. He's nearly flawless, leaving Greg in a dangerous moment of awe. The hot bath water only serves to further enunciate each subtle curve of his ass, the liquid giving way to the appearance of even smoother skin. 

Meanwhile, the vicious current continues to tug at him in every direction. He tries with desperation to steady his focus, confident that if it falters for even a second, he's a deadman. The sweeping turbulence from Eli’s micro-movements only grows more powerful, beating his royal cock as if it were a drum. A quick and exhaustive rhythm that sends the diminutive fellow every which way. Eli's larger-than-life posterior is his only constant amid the crashing of rapids.

Greg’s eyes sting from the exposure to the royal bathwater, added minerals lacing the heated liquid and irritating them further. His head grows light, a thick mental fog consuming him as the lack of oxygen finally catches up to him. Yet despite it all, he holds the forces at play. A hand rushes straight for him, the terrifying sight causing his lungs to open up for a scream that never comes. Bubbles flurry around his mouth as even faint gurgles can't be heard. Steamy bathwater floods his body, funneling down his throat as he thrashes in a blind panic.

The hand unknowingly sweeps him up in the chaos, Greg simply having the extreme misfortune of being in its mighty path. It cups around the cheek he’s been stuck orbiting this entire time. Prince Eli's hand tenderly slides across the soft ass with the simplest of motions, taking Greg with it to his doom. His vision fades, and with it, the energy to properly struggle. Yet, the waves aren’t what claim his life.

His free hand now properly around the curves of his butt, Eli grips the moldable flesh harshly, evoking a pleasant moan from his pale lips. He strokes more vigorously than before, the touch reminding him of last night, producing a brand new surge of lust from between his legs. 

Nevertheless, Greg finds himself caught in between. Plastered in the middle of the wrinkles Eli's hand had produced, he doesn’t have the time or mental capacity to recognize what’s happening. Like a pen to parchment, Greg is scraped against the silk-like skin. Knowing the end is mercifully near, Greg drifts off, just as Eli gives his butt another firm squeeze. The hand embraces the shapely backside, eliciting a sharp chill that runs down his spine while his tiny stowaway is promptly ground into the creases of his alabaster butt.

It's far too much for Greg’s frail body to handle, and he explodes viscerally beneath his palm into an indiscernible mist of crimson. But he doesn’t linger, his remains almost instantaneously washed away by small currents as the prince goes about his royal business. Crushed to particles of dust before he ever had time to properly regain his bearings.

Eli continues stroking the curves of his cheek with one hand and fellating his pristine cock with the other. All the while, Tilly finds herself thrown around violently, barely hanging onto the trimmed blonde stub that had become her only lifeline. The walls start to close in, pulling back out again just as Tilly feels she's prone to drown in the mass of skin and fat pulling back again, giving her a moment of respite that’s unfortunately short-lived. The claustrophobic nature of it makes her very bones shake in fright. Perhaps ironically, she finds herself stuck in the same place she’d been so enamored with last night.

Tilly breathes a ragged and weighty sigh of relief, moist air kissing her lungs. Seeing the wall retract makes her feel as though perhaps she’s safe. But it doubles back without warning, a terrifying wall of hot meat coming in faster than she can possibly react.

“Aiee-” She squeaks out, just as the mountain of toned skin smashes into her. Life leaves her body immediately, snuffed out in a single violent motion as the Prince casually plays with the muscles of his ass. Bones shatter on impact, and she’s subsequently ground into a fine paste, one that only manages to stain the very insides of Eli’s butt. A stain right below his asshole, one that he'll never even glimpse.

Waves wash up against it, moving in conjunction with Eli’s hand. Tilly’s remains don’t last much longer; the splatter cleaned away in a matter of minutes. Everything she ever would do, gone in an impulsive instant, smashed by an entitled royal trying nothing more than to get himself off.

Amanda looks out across the steamy seas, entirely unaware of the tragedy that had just played out beneath the waves. Unable to rouse her master's attention, she's forced to watch as he tries to vent the heat building inside of him.

Pent-up arousal swells within her as he polishes off his impossibly large cock. Smooth hands gliding across an even softer shaft. A small irrational part of her wants nothing more than to jump in and get lost in his sexual fulfillment. But it's too dangerous. Amanda is well aware it would be a dive she'd have no chance of returning from.

He gives it a few more strokes before letting his cock flap hard against his belly, releasing a sigh of extreme frustration. He wasn’t going to finish. Not here, anyway. Despite how close he’d come, release is a wall he couldn’t manage to scale, a castle he had no hope of breaching. If only he had the proper tools at his disposal. After all, you can't breach a fortress without siege equipment.

Eli looks up towards the ceiling, his brow furrowing in a moment of contemplation.

"Where's Amanda when I need her?" He whispers wistfully. The tiny is startled upright hearing her name graces the master's lips. Eli's eyes drift downwards, settling firmly on what Amanda can only hope is her. Has he seen her? Or is it a trick of the eyes? She waves relentlessly, screaming the future king's name until she's blue in the face.

"Maybe if Amanda had shown up today, I wouldn't have to deal with bugs." His tone grows ice cold, and the very last word lingers venomously on his tongue. Amanda grows pale. She repeats it over and over in her head, choking as she tries to get the word to leave her throat.

"B-b-bug?" The young maid stutters, a shadow quickly overtaking her as he leans forward.

"You know, little thing, sometimes I take pity on insects who find their way into the castle." Amanda swallows hard as he continues. His hand still plays with his cock, albeit with less intensity than before. Reaching inward, he finds fires that are just below the surface.

"Some days, I just can't stand seeing you all get crunched when it’s simply in your nature to explore." He releases his grip on the member, letting a soaked and dripping hand hover above the water.

Amanda sputters, mouth agape as she tries to make some sort of coherent statement. She isn’t successful; the hot mess of a maid instead chokes on the words in her throat, her eyes wide with fear.

WHAM

"However, I haven't been in the best spirits today." Eli says, venting his annoyance.

Crrrtttch

He relishes the satisfying crunch as he twists his finger. Though the enjoyment is quickly fleeting. Soon, he finds himself left with the disappointment of temporary urges once again. Disheartened, he rises, Eli’s nude form displacing the water as he stands confidently to his feet. Waves crash over the rim, washing away all that remains of Amanda in a single pitiful clash against the porcelain.

Water flows off him, and the initial torrent quickly reduces to droplets that pitter across the tiles as he stretches towards his calves, relieving the strain that had grown from sitting. Eli reaches over and grabs a freshly cleaned and folded piece of linen from the oak table towards his side. The soft material feels immaculate on his skin, and the royal heir finds himself relishing its touch against his body. Stopping briefly, he lets the textile rub playfully across his aching cock.

Still painfully stiff, he lets go of his member once more, watching it twitch as he releases his grip. It's time to get down to business. With his parents gone for the time being, he'd naturally have to fulfill his role in the courts. A dreadfully standard affair, and he's already dreading the line of snobby nobles and filthy peasants alike. Oh well. It's something that simply must be done.

Truthfully, the young Prince's day is looking longer with each new stroke of the sundial.

Another day of listening to the nobles' petty gripes. He can't help but roll his eyes at the very thought. Unceremoniously, Eli finishes donning his robe, forgoing anything underneath due to sheer lack of motivation. Just for today, the thrown-together apparel would suffice. Besides, what could these stuffy nobles do about it? Question his authority? The idea of them growing spines makes the Prince crack a smile. Simply put, it would never happen.

Leaving the bathroom and subsequently his room, Eli makes a mental note to chide the housing ladies later for their absence. He finds it odd. All the hallways are just as empty as the outside of his quarters. Perhaps some festival is going on? Still, not an acceptable absence from Eli's point of view, but it's the only rationalization he can come up with. Not missing a beat, the Prince continues on, the robes dragging against the floor in tandem with his feet.

"How utterly bizarre." He mutters to himself, more annoyed than strictly curious.

The sound of his footsteps continues to echo off the large empty hallway. The average person might be unsettled seeing the normally bustling halls of the castle entirely dead. But not Eli, no. Truthfully, save for his own inconveniences, the young man can't be less bothered.

Continuing his lonely walk through the hallway, an anecdote pops into his head, “You can't find good help these days, can you? Maybe fathers' stuffy grumblings have an air of truth to them,” Eli muses. He turns the corner, paintings lining this newest branch of the castle's walls. Grand battles and tales of old, brought to life by artists telling the history of Eli's lineage.

The young royal had seen them hundreds of times over. So, instead of marveling at their beautiful visage, he briskly walks past, pushing the large wooden doors open himself. Under normal circumstances, Eli would never physically exert himself unless absolutely necessary. However, the usual court attendants are also missing from their typical spots. The maids would get a pass, maybe a stern talking to at most. He could never stay mad at them. But the court staff would face severe punishment. He doubted they’d skip a day if his Father had been here in his stead! Perhaps he needed to make an example out of them.

Although, At this very moment, the Prince has more pressing matters. Readying himself to greet a mob of peeved citizens and nobility alike, he's instead met with abject silence as he pushes his way inside. Eli furrows his sleek brow in confusion.

"Hello?" He calls out, this time nervously. Walking in, he receives no fanfare or introduction. Perplexed, the young man takes a step inside. The massive room, adorned with glass mosaics, sits devoid of life. The court and its typical rabble missing entirely. In all twenty of his years, not once had he seen something that left him so profoundly confused. Something is wrong. Though, is it really his burden to fix it? The answer he settles on is a quick and resounding no. If they didn’t show up tomorrow, he’d simply hire a new head of staff. Easy as that!

While Eli wanders around the open court in a confused stupor, Clara climbs the royal throne. With one last burst of energy, the brunette throws herself over the side with a grunt of exertion. Finally, she'd made it!  No sooner does she flop onto her back than a familiar voice calls out to her.

"Clara! Over here!" Her head shoots upwards, and among the dozens of panting and exhausted citizens and nobles, Clara spies her wife, waving her over. She sprints into her arms with a shriek of excitement, embracing her. The two stay close, body heat radiating shared energy between them. Her face is as warm and as welcoming as ever, and Clara's heart skips a beat upon catching another glimpse of her smile.

"Hey, lovebug!" Melody holds her lover tight, rubbing her back tenderly. For the first time since all this commotion had begun, Clara feels like everything might turn out okay! How could it be anything less with Melody by her side?

A few hours earlier… the group of roughly fifty strong had lost their height in a flash. It happened so quickly. A wave of nausea wafted over the court, several clutching their stomachs in distress. Then, just like that, everyone was just… small. There had been panic at first, of course. They were shouting, crying, screaming. Although, eventually, people did what they do best. Planning, plotting, and adapting. They broke into groups, and gradually, staff and nobles alike put aside their differences and worked together. Eventually, the court's marooned occupants devised a risky plan of action.

Nearby sat the royal throne, a granite table top directly in front of it. The survivors seemed to generally agree that they stood no chance of rescue on the floor. They were specks easily lost among the dirt that had once been firmly beneath their feet. However, if a group large enough scattered across the tabletop, they'd have visibility! A chance, though slim, to be seen! The crowd expresses hesitation, though it’s quickly decided that danger or not, the table may very well be their one and only shot. But how would they go about it?

Luckily, the royal mathematician was attending court today. A lanky man stepped up front and center, clearing his throat to address the crowd.

"This comes as a shock to us all, but we must not dally! Lest we end up like those who perished within Lord Edwin's abode….” He looks off to the side, recalling all the friends he’d never have a chance to talk to again. Smashed by some drunken harlot! The Royal dignitary is determined not to let a similar fate befall his home. He pulls out some tattered parchment from a leather pouch situated along his hip with urgency. Carefully, he leafs through the notes before speaking up again. "At the size, we're no larger than, say, a grain of dirt. Put plainly, our size leaves us vulnerable. But we may yet be able to use this to our advantage!" He pushes his thick bottled glasses up excitedly. 

"The elevation of the throne is well above the table. If we were to say, use the ladies' garments, we might very well make it over!" He double-checks his notes before nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, our weight should be minuscule enough that floating through the air should be a breeze, if you'll pardon the expression."

And just like that, their goal came into focus….

As Clara and Melody finally let go, they hear excitable shouts. Looking over yields quite the spectacle as twenty or so climbers have already eagerly set off for the table. They glide over, mostly naked, the majority of them either using dresses or pants as a makeshift flying machine. It's a sight either of the girls could have imagined in their wildest dreams. The light piercing through the stained glass hits the gliders, giving their ride a feeling bordering on the romantic.

"Looks like it's our turn!" Clara gestures with nervous energy. The two are still close, shoulder to shoulder. Unwilling to leave each other's side.

"Err, I dunno Clara," Melody says, unease in her voice, "You know how I am with heights!" Genuine fear permeates each pupil, piercing through Clara's defenses. Her vibrancy starts to shift towards gentle reassurances before a loud metal clang interrupts them, making the whole group freeze. Across the room is seemingly an infinite distance away, walks the young Prince himself. The nervous backbone of the crowd quickly dissipates, and the majority begin to rejoice! Cheers reverberate throughout the ground, the last few climbers joining in as they finally reach the top.

Hugs fly and Clara herself finally leaves her wife's side, running towards the edge of the chair in an attempt to flag down the monumental being heading towards them. She jumps and waves, others whistling loud enough that Clara feels they'll surely hear!

ThudThudThudThud

Eli leisurely strolls across the hand-woven carpets, muffling impossibly loud footsteps. He carries himself with the reserved confidence of a royal; An attitude that puts everyone at ease. However, the closer he gets to the kingdom's tiny residents, the more uneasy they grow. His footfalls get ever louder, the same vibrations shaking the ground beneath them. Several back away from the edge in fear they might tumble over entirely.

A glance across the fragmented group reveals unease. The Prince closes in, failing to heed any of their cries for help. Far too microscopic to do anything of consequence, Clara looks back, her eyes meeting Melody's. Worry is scrawled across her face as the shadow eclipses them all.

Eli leans back into the chair without the tiniest inkling of awareness. Several disappear instantly beneath his bare bottom, the curves erasing them without so much as a peep of protest. Any little sound that can be discerned is easily drowned out by the groaning of the seat he's putting his weight across. Not wearing any pants, his balls slap haphazardly across the majority of the populace, Clara's eyes going wide as Melody is thrown to the ground, vanishing under its immense weight. 

In an instant, most of the crowd is smashed into dust. Splattered corpses line the underside of the pretty boy's butt and the smooth contours of his balls. The once beneath his posterior face relatively quick end, popping like microscopic grapes beneath his wonderfully soft rear. Those caught beneath the warm hills of his balls aren't quite as lucky.

Yet, the weight of the two orbs isn't enough to finish most of them off. Several remain clinging to life, bones crushed and cracked. Melody can feel the creaking in each bone, her leg barely hanging to her body. Undoubtedly, this is how she dies. For a brief moment, she thinks of Clara. The life they’d both been robbed of. Tears leak from her eyes, glad her one and only has been spared from such an embarrassing fate.

Eli shifts in place, an innocuous fidget that snuffs out all remaining life beneath him. His wrinkled sack pulverizes anything left alive underneath, turning Melody and the rest of the unlucky micros into a mushy jam.

Clara's once strong mind breaks in all but an instant, her only loves life ripped away by the smooth sexual organ of the kingdom's beloved heir. She lets out a scream of visceral despair, dropping into a curled ball, a debilitating mess of emotions. In a single instant, she'd lost everything. Shrieks and cries ring out across the throne as Eli shifts slightly, revealing dozens of gooey splotches beneath the royal jewels. Screams of torment reverberate from all around as they grapple with the inevitability of their deaths. It's too much for any of them to bear.

Meanwhile, the young man couldn't be more clueless. Untold amounts of destruction caused by the simple act of his balls rubbing against the chair. Prince finds himself dreadfully bored. With no staff at his call and no citizens to hear out, how would he fill this chunk of time? He’d never had court be outright canceled before! The very thought is ridiculous. To make matters worse, his Archery lessons wouldn't be till at least late noon! He sighs, resting an elbow against the armrest of the throne, a closed fist leaning upon his smoothly shaved cheek.

Putting some real thought into his predicament, Eli happens to take a glance just below, spying about a baker's dozen worth of small moving dots across the table in front of him. 

He nearly recoils, "How utterly repulsive!" He says, bile staining his voice.

However, disgust quickly turns towards amusement as an entertaining idea, if only marginally unorthodox, enters his head. In response, he feels blood pumping to his cock, its flaccid form rising towards the very heavens themselves.

The specks below take immediate notice, and even the most broken of them stop to observe his manhood become impossibly rigid. Clara herself has never seen anything like it; his cock is comparable to the fiercest monsters in the boldest of stories.

Eli stares right down at the table, his full attention going towards killing two birds with one stone. Perhaps these insects would be lucky enough to see him cum. What a privilege! It's silly to picture the bugs comprehending the situation at hand, but another Part of him finds this hair-brained plan but another part of him gets a rush at the very idea. His cock grows undeniably hard in response.

The Prince's eyes never leave the shifting speckles of dirt across the granite top. Their features are significantly smaller than his careful eyes can ever hope to discern. Certainly not a bug he's familiar with.

Though, what they are doesn't rightly matter in the end. A hairless hand comes down and meets the impeccably stiff member. Carefully, it runs across the engorged head, trailing down his length. He shudders before picking up the speed.

Meanwhile, Clara finds herself unable to move. Her lover is dead, and her hopes of rescue are dashed. Condensation washes over her, droplets leaking down his sex from what she can only guess is from an early morning bath. Whatever dumb naivety she once had was destroyed in an instant, along with the love of her life.

Without prompt action, Clara knows that death is almost a certainty; but the young widow is in too much emotional turmoil to move. Her heart ravaged and torn asunder. In the face of such intense internal despair, she found herself unable to summon the will to carry on any further.

Suddenly, Eli's voice booms, "Mmm, we'll be trying something extra fun today!" His voice is smooth and charismatic. He lets out a one-off grunt, gradually quickening the tempo of each stroke.

"Sincerest apologies, but insects really shouldn't be allowed in here. In fact, I'll be considering some harsh disciplinary measures for those obligated to keep this room tidy!" The irony is palpable, as many of those very attendants sit on the smooth table Eli has his sights locked upon. Others, now simply a stain underneath his balls. 

He's excitable; the mere thought of exercising his birthrights in such a way makes the lust between his legs grow all the more potent. Collectively they beg and plead with seemingly endless vitality. An aspect lost entirely on the royal. 

The Prince lets his cock slap and grind over the seat's plush in all the excitement. It's a small motion that Eli performs with little consideration. Though, the minor gesturing is catastrophic for those down below.

Clara watches it unfold in horrific clarity. A wall of meat sweeps across the survivors, brutalizing them with efficiency. One after another, they splatter over his perfect cock, staining the peachy flesh. Closer and closer it comes, stopping right before Clara, withdrawing high into the air. She casts a wary glance over to where tens of people once were, to see only blotted stains across the landscape.

"Such a miserable life, scavenging for the scraps of those so much bigger! At least this way, you'll be helping out the greater good!" Eli snorts, hand running back and forth with a revitalizing surge of speed.

Without warning, he stands up, bringing his trembling cock right towards the table, letting the steamy slit of his rod waver directly before the shocked men and women. He's close. It's apparent to all, especially those atop the smooth granite.

The pleasant musk of his shaft has them cowering, its presence intimidating and all-consuming. Some try to escape in futility. However, several have long since admitted defeat.

Eli feels the dam break as the troops finally breach his inner castle. His hand picks up to blindingly fast speeds, and with a single dignified grunt, the Prince releases his long-awaited load. It comes out quicker than any of the microscopic humans can see, obliterating the first few it impacts into a fine mist, while others are hit with the force of an ox. Bones shatter, and most are thrown violently to the ground.

He continues to stroke as the last bits of cum dribble out, milking himself dry. Immense relief floods through his whole body, and the aching in his balls finally and mercifully relents.

Satisfied, Eli looks down. A slight smile cracks his lips as he sees the majority of the bugs unmoving in a torrent of his very own essence.

"Truly, a noble sacrifice!" He says mockingly. He fluffs out his robes with a yawn, leaving the mess for the lazy staff to clean later. Penance for putting him out to dry this morning. Now that court has been canceled, he considers the possibilities of his newly acquired free time.

"It may very well be time for a trip to the castle library!" He says with an air of excitement. The giant heads back towards the door, leaving Clara to weep amidst the carnage.