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?
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!