My first day of service was the most important day of my life…

I had never excelled at anything. At most I was average in any given area. Most damning, I never showed enough promise in a trade. My options for employment were thus limited. However, there was one job in the kingdom that had only one requirement: devotion to the Queen.

As requirements go, that had to be the easiest. There wasn’t a person in the city of Bulwark who wasn’t devoted to the Queen. My only trepidation was that living as one of her servants meant living in the castle. I’d be leaving behind my friends, my family, my life as I knew it. Since I had little family, no friends, and a piss poor life, the choice was easy. Besides, living without employment was not tolerated in Bulwark. If I hadn’t made the choice, it would have been made for me.

I had always known the castle was big. Even in the distance, at the foot of the mountain, it towered above us all. Standing there, though, before its grand archway entry, I felt dizzy. Not wanting to be late on my first day, I steeled my eyes forward and strode through the open doors. If the light from the outside hadn’t illuminated the insides, the many torches would have.

Columns ran down the length of the entry hall, leading the eyes toward the throne at the end. An intimidating sight, given its jagged and seemingly natural formation. Without a queen sitting there, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to sit there myself. It likely would have been a more humorous sight than an intimidating one. My imagination broke upon hearing his voice.

“Greetings! And welcome to your greatest purpose.” His voice was commanding, carried easily through the echoing halls. His age did nothing to diminish the baritone of his voice, though his age was evident. He was old. Older than anyone I’d ever seen. Yet he didn’t look weaker for it. He carried himself with a boisterous dignity, draped in finer fabrics than I’d ever worn. Any hair on his head had either fallen out or been shaved away.

“I am the Master of Servants,” he introduced himself as, “but you may call me Master.” A title he seemed all too eager to impress upon me. As if I didn’t already feel small standing in the foyer of the Queen’s castle. I had seen him once before in my life, in the city. He was out on some official business, I’m sure. Back then he regarded me with a cold, uncaring, glance. I held no more value to him than a rock on the side of the road. Yet now he was warmer; welcoming. I doubt it was because he had changed over the years. More likely it was because I now held purpose. My ‘greatest purpose,’ as he called it.

“I’m Peck,” I replied. I had no grand titles to accompany my name. I’d wager he wasn’t expecting any, either.

“Peck,” he repeated, as if to commit it to memory. “Welcome, Peck. I shall be showing you around the castle, to acquaint you with your various duties, where they’ll be conducted, and their importance. Do you understand?”

Did he think I was any idiot? He must have. Despite the honor that came with serving the Queen in her castle, it was not a position you had to work hard for. As if he could read my thoughts on the matter, the Master addressed my concerns.

“Your tasks may be simple, but all hold an importance their own. Prove yourself reliable, capable, and above all skilled, and you will find that servitude does not begin and end with being a servant.” A small smile formed on his cracked and wrinkled face. “After all, I too was once standing where you are today.” Though the thought gave me hope, the Master suddenly pulled me from where I had been standing. Moments later, the ground shook.

There she was. The Queen. A tall, statuesque, beauty of an otherworldly hue. Muscles and curves, all generously displayed through minimal and snug fur clothing. And I had nearly been stepped on by her. I’m not sure how I didn’t hear her coming. All of her steps after that first, dangerous, one were not only heard but felt. The Master must have been able to pull me in with his words and voice, putting blinders on me to the rest of the world.

“The first rule of servitude to the Queen,” the Master spoke, pulling my attention, but not my eyes, away from the Queen, “is don’t be under foot. Easy to follow, if you’re paying attention. Easy to break, too. Too many servants have been crushed by her powerful step simply because they couldn’t pull their eyes away from her as she walked.”

I didn’t blame them, though I didn’t want to mimic them.

“Come,” he said, stepping in front of me. “We have much to see and only a day to do so. Don’t tarry.”

I followed along behind the Master of Servants, matching his step and taking in his words. He gave me the history of the castle, and its construction. Interesting, though longwinded. It at least served as some entertainment as we made the journey toward the throne. The throne where the Queen was seated.

When we arrived, she had already taken off her sandals. Ankles were crossed over one another as she stretched out her legs straight. A team of servants were diligently washing the soles of her feet. Hand brushes and brushes with long, reaching, handles were used to scrub away any dirt and grime that had accumulated on her soles. A few servants had even climbed up near her toes to get in between them.

That was my first glimpse into what she was capable of.

The servants had been working skillfully at cleaning her soles. The Queen, meanwhile, rested her cheek against a raised fist. Her eyes looking elsewhere in thought. That’s when it happened. One of the servants was getting in between her big toe and the next when she scrunched them. The toes flexed forward and squeezed together. The man became trapped inside the intense pressure.

The other servants did what they could to pull him out. There was no fighting her strength. He squirmed and pleaded for aid, but there was only one person who could help. And she did nothing. All eyes were on this man and his plight. Mine had been as well but started to search elsewhere. First, they fell on the Master, who looked more annoyed that the servants had stopped their cleaning than he looked concerned for their lives. Then I looked to the one person who could save the man.

Her eyes were no longer lost in thought. They were directed at her feet. Not in any kind of focus or malice. There was a casual interest in her eyes. Yet the mere fact that they were looking at her feet told volumes. She hadn’t made some mistake, absentmindedly. Even if she had, she knew what she was doing. She could see it. Yet rather than relax her grip, she kept it. Then her eyes moved.

Onto me.

No doubt I took up little space in her field of vision. But I know she felt it. I know she felt my eyes on hers. She could see what I was thinking based on my eyes alone, just as I had with her. In that moment, she relaxed her toes. The man hung there, taking in fast, deep, breaths while the others pulled him out of the dangerous space. The collection of relieved gasps told me the man was safe, but my eyes stayed on her.

“You and you,” spoke the Master, “take him to the infirmary. The rest of you get back to work!”

“Who are you?” the Queen spoke. If the Master’s voice had been commanding, the Queen’s was godly. I had found myself in a staring contest with the frost giant queen, and now she wanted to know my name.

“This is no one, my queen.” The Master stepped in for me, dismissing any importance she had placed on my identity. “A new servant, and nothing more.”

“I didn’t as you, MOS.” The Queen reminded the Master, or MOS as she seemed to call him, of his place. Her eyes flicked off mine for only a second, so she could address him. Then they were back to me.

“I’m Peck, my queen,” I said. What more could I say?

“Peck.” She repeated my name just as the Master had. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, then flicked back to the Master. Her head back upright, and her arms at their rests, she spoke again.

“MOS, I’m hungry.”

“I shall have some food prepared for you right away, my queen,” he promised with a bow.

“Wrists to ankle,” she qualified. I had no idea what that could mean. Though I would find out soon enough.

“A most palatable option, my queen.” The order given and accepted, MOS turned back toward me. “Come along, Peck,” he said my name was a level of derision. He didn’t sound happy that the Queen knew my name, or that she cared to know it at all. As I followed along behind him, I took a moment to look over my shoulder at the Queen. She was no longer looking at me. Yet when I continued onward, I swear I could feel her gaze on my back.

I couldn’t get my mind off what I’d just seen. I knew the Queen ‘sampled’ her subjects, but I’d just assumed it was a necessary sacrifice. Our payment for living within the safety of her protection. What I’d seen was a sacrifice, but not a necessary one. It was one done not out of need, or even want. It was done out of boredom. It boggled my mind. What’s more, the slaves continued to work. Not out of fear, not that I could see. Were they really all so convinced of her benevolence as to dismiss it as an accident? Were they really so blind?

Had I been that blind?

Appropriately, my thoughts on lack of perception caused me to walk straight into MOS’s back. Not only had I bumped into him, but I’d interrupted his delivery of orders. He fixed me with a cold glare. I guess he had more important matters to deal with than punishing me. I had blindly followed him into the dungeon. Aside from the bars and the size of the room, it looked no different from the rest of the castle. I wonder now if that had been a sign.

“Prepare six prisoners, wrists to ankle.” The qualifier still made no sense to me. What did make sense to me was the look of fear on the prisoners’ faces. They knew what was coming next. We all did. The Queen had said she was hungry. I’d never seen her eat anything else but us. The only thing that could break me from the collected sounds of doomed screams was that of a single, happy, womanly giggle.

I peered out into the hallway toward it source. It was hard to determine, given the size of the hall. The echo carried it far, so it could be anywhere. I did the only thing I could – I walked. I walked in the direction I had been to reach the dungeon. I chose correctly. The further I walked, the louder the laughter became. And it was no longer just one woman, but several. Men too.

There, in the distance, I saw a door ajar. Spilling out into the dimly lit hall was a faint pink light. Worried my absence would be noticed any minute, I sprinted toward the door. If what I saw in the dungeon was fear and death, what I saw in the pink room was the exact opposite.

Men and women, all completely nude, and all completely beautiful. Laughing and enjoying themselves. Some fed each other berries. Others splashed in a thick, pink, liquid. Most were making love. Caressing, squeezing, kissing, tasting, moaning love. Not one among them looked unhappy, and not one among them looked anything less than gorgeous. Full lips parted in breathy moans. Thick fingers sinking into supple thighs. Heavy breasts spilling across broad chests. Hips constantly moving in an erotic dance.

On one of the beds were two women, laying atop each other, pelvis to face. I couldn’t distinguish their moans from all the others, but I had no doubt they were enjoying themselves. One woman raised her head and her eyes fell on me. Her eyes were full of lust and want. Even in a room filled with sex, she looked like she wanted more. Fluids dripped from her chin and she smiled at me. Her finger curled, beckoning me in to join. Before I could, I felt a skeletal but firm grip on my shoulder.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” MOS asked rhetorically.

“Who are they?”

“The Intimates.” He stayed standing with me as he explained. “They are the Queen’s pleasure attendants. They drink and bathe in blush berry wine all day, so they are always aroused and ready to server their Queen.”

Blush berry wine. A beverage typically only served during the fertility festival. Many babies are conceived during the festival. Most people only got to drink the rare and expensive wine on that one day in the year. However, the Intimates were allowed to not only drink it, but bathe in it. Year-round.

“How do you become an Intimate?” I asked, my intentions obvious.

“Peak physical fitness, to endure the Queen’s desires, and a natural attractiveness, to entice the Queen’s desires.” MOS eyed me up and down. “With some more definition, you may be qualified. For now, I wouldn’t worry about it. Come.”

I had hoped he’d say you just had to sign up, but I knew that was a long shot. At least I had some hope, according to MOS’s calculating assessment. I followed behind him once again and did my best to not think of the pink room, so my erection could go down.

I was amazed at all the doors and walkways that ran along the walls of the hallway. To the Queen it would just be a hallway, but to us it was a city street. I thought that if the rest of the castle was arranged similarly, then the castle was another city entirely.

To my dismay, we caught up with the prisoners. Just as they were entering the throne room. I don’t know why MOS brought me back to the throne room. To watch? As punishment? I couldn’t fathom what lesson he was trying to impart on me, because he never said a word to me about it. But there was a smugness about him. I know the Queen must get some joy out of consuming the prisoners. The same kind of joy I might get from eating a fresh loaf of bread. MOS, on the other hand, also exuded joy. Subtly, but I could sense it. A sadistic glee in seeing his Queen demonstrate her power.

Wrists to ankle. That had been the order given. I saw then what she meant. The six prisoners had been bound to each other. A long length of rope between each. One end was tied to an ankle of the first prisoner. The other end was tied around the wrists of the prisoner behind him. And so it went down the line. I could see then what the phrase meant, but I still couldn’t understand why it had been done. Then she picked up the prisoner at the front of the line.

As he was lifted up, so too were the other prisoners. With how they were bound together, they stretched out vertically. They were like links in a chain, connected by rope. I can’t imagine the pain they must have felt in their arms and legs. Even the last prisoner must have felt some kind of strain on his wrists. The ones near the other end would have felt even greater pain as the weight pulled on them. It would not be a long-lasting pain, though.

The first prisoner was sucked from her fingers and into her mouth. But the rope remained tied. Little by little she slurped more of the rope in until the next prisoner touched her lips. Then a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. In went the next. The rest were forced to hang there in agonizing pain, as she sucked and savored the prisoner. Either dangling against her stomach or between her breasts, they waited. Each undoubtedly wanted the pain to stop, but did any of them realize what it would mean to do so?

One man tried to squeeze himself between her breasts. A last hoorah, or an attempt to hide? Given his face after he was pulled free, my guess was ‘hide.’ Every gulp resounded throughout the hall. No one spoke, save for the prisoners. I have no idea what their crimes were. I wondered if any crime warranted that kind of punishment. I had seen a lot of cells in the dungeon, with a lot of men. Surely not all of them had done something so heinous as to be condemned to this fate.

With the last man, the Queen bit into the rope. Her incisors severed it instantly, her full lips pulling back so we could all see the great, white, cutters. Down the man fell, landing upon her right breast. He bounced on impact and then rolled toward her cleavage. There was no fighting it, he was going in. Her breasts so snuggly contained, he only slipped halfway into her cleavage, but the Queen helped with the rest. She pushed him in with her finger, and there was no mistaking the curt chuckle she made.

Though none of us could see him, we all could only imagine what he was enduring. The Queen pressed on her breasts, squeezing them further together, and compressing them around the prisoner. Over and over she did this, and none of us said anything. We all just watched. It was hard not to. We’d seen her eat five men, and was now torturing a sixth, but she was doing so with her breasts. The Queen’s breasts. Huge, soft, pliable globes that she was playing with. A confusing mix of arousal and fear.

Then she held them. Tightly together. Second after second passed, until suddenly her lips parted slightly in a quick gasp. She had felt something, then released her tits. A single finger went in to investigate. That same finger came out, dipped in blood. Blood she was all too happy to suck off the tip. There was a scent in the air at that point. The blush on her cheeks and chest, the sounds she had made, and the things she had done to herself. It was clear what was causing it. MOS figured it out too.

“Shall I prepare some Intimates for you, my queen?” he asked.

“No.” Her answer was simple. Her follow-up was not. “I’m going to see Verda, the dragon.”

I knew about the dragon. How could I not? Everyone did. The Queen had conquered and enslaved a living dragon and marched her through the streets, parading her victory. It was strange to see another creature of the Queen’s size, to say the least. It was strange to see that the dragon was also immensely beautiful. Yet I didn’t really think about the dragon in that moment, in the castle. Instead I thought about the look the Queen gave me.

Had I been brought back into the throne room at her behest? Did she want to teach me a lesson? Or was it MOS? Either way, the message was received. Servants may live a dangerous life, throwing themselves at the possibility of death in service every day. Prisoners where guaranteed death, however. And the difference between myself and a prisoner could be a single misstep. If it had been MOS’s lesson, so be it. But if it had been the Queen’s? Then that meant she ended six lives just to prove a point. Her power was not just in her size and strength.

MOS continued to show me around the castle, though nothing compared to what I had already seen. Nothing was as alluring as the pink room, and nothing was as harrowing as the throne room. Still, I paid attention as best I could. I didn’t want to miss a key step and find myself faltering irreparably. Even though I did my best to focus, and to my knowledge I hadn’t missed anything, my mind kept going back to the Queen.

The licking. The savoring. The gulping. The screams. The moans. I think that’s what upset me the most. It wasn’t just feeding. It was foreplay. She wasn’t eating out of necessity; she was doing it out of pleasure. I suppose there could be other reasons to her behavior. Just none that I can conceive of. What upset me the most was how arousing it had all been. I like to think it was simply because of her body, displaying equal amounts of musculature and curves. I hope it wasn’t because of what she was doing to those men with her body.

I had been assigned a simple duty for my first night: cleaning the floors. I just wish it hadn’t been at night. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t been given the job at all. Nevertheless, the duty was conducted past sundown. The reason being that it took so long to clean the floors of the castle. It was an all-day affair. An affair that took me toward the pink room again. I’d be lying if I said that was by accident. Though I could hear nothing from there, I approached all the same.

What I saw was, I’ll admit, something of a disappointment. At least half of the occupants I’d seen earlier were gone. Those that remained were all sound asleep. I suppose living in a constant orgy would take it out of you. My eyes did linger, nonetheless. Though asleep, they were still beautiful, and they were still naked. They weren’t so exhausted that they couldn’t hear my map falling too the floor clumsily. One of the women was stirred and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. When she saw me, I saw that same lust in her eyes I saw earlier.

She had reddish blonde hair, or blondish red hair, and freckles from cheek to cheek and on her perky chest. She had a sweet face that reminded me of a girl I once knew. She had a body that reminded me of a wet dream I once had. Her smile was sweet and welcoming. Her curves were not so humble she couldn’t be boastful about them.

“Hi there,” she said with equal amounts glee and arousal. “What’s your name?”

“P-Peck,” I stammered. I couldn’t help it. I was caught off guard. I hadn’t expected her to even acknowledge me, let alone address me.

“Peck.” She giggled at my name and/or my nervousness. Standing up from the bed did nothing to calm me. Her eyes swung left and right, noticing what I had. “I guess they left without me.” She sounded unsurprised, but no less hurt by the revelation.

“Where did they go?” I asked.

Her pout turned into a grin. “I’ll show you.” Before she approached, she took a sip from the silver goblet resting on the floor.

“Oh, no,” I replied, wondering why I had, “I should get back to work.” She had other ideas.

Before I could react with more than a stammer, she threw her arms behind my head and pressed her thin, sweetened, lips against mine. Seconds after the first press of her lips, her tongue was in my mouth, coaxing mine into hers. I felt dizzy. She tasted so wonderful. She tastes so sweet and a little tangy, I thought, …and tingly…Blush berry! Of course, what had been in the cup was blush berry wine, and now she was rubbing her wine-covered tongue in my mouth and forcing my tongue into her wine-soaked mouth.

Before I knew it, I was running down the hallway with her, her hand holding mine and leading me along. At some point, I don’t remember when, my clothes came off. I have no idea where they ended up. I mostly remember the sight of her cute ass running ahead of me, and my painfully erect cock bouncing as we ran.

She was taking me somewhere specific. Somewhere with lots of moaning and giggling. She was taking me to where the others had left for. Then I heard another moan, a louder moan. A moan I’d heard before, in the throne room. In the short distance, I finally realized our destination. The large door left ajar, letting the aroused voices echo out.

We were heading to the Queen’s bedroom.

When I tried to pull away, I just ended up looking at the dimples above her ass, and I was lost to her and the wine again. The next thing I knew, we were inside the Queen’s bedchambers. And there she was. Lying upon her bed of furs and leathers, completely enraptured and completely naked. It was a sight far above that of just the naked woman who had led me to the bedroom. The Queen was already beautiful, that I knew, but seeing her not only naked but writhing in pleasure completely hexed my mind.

The woman’s giggling continued as she led me toward the Queen. I was so dopey and possessed that I didn’t realize the possible ramifications before it was too late. When I did, we were already between those two, great, blue, thighs. There I saw him. One of the men from the pink room, I’m sure, squeezing himself into the Queen. Into her wet, inviting, pussy. Before he went fully in, he reached out toward my escort, wanting to take her, and me, with him.

I started to pull back, tried to loosen her grasp on my wrist, but she was surprisingly strong. She kept reassuring me that it would be alright. No, that it would be more than alright. That it would be wonderful and orgasmic. I simply hadn’t had enough blush berry wine to believe her. I wanted to, truly I did. But all I could think about was how much trouble I’d be in if I was discovered. About how fatal it could be to be inside a giantess in that manner.

She held her grip even as she slipped in between the blue labia. She likely would have been able to pull me in, were it not for the intervention of the Queen. Just as I was about to go in, my foot pressed against her lips to gain leverage and push back, a finger descended. A finger that swung past me and pressed against the Queen’s dripping lips. That was more than enough strength to break the woman’s hold on my wrist, as well as push her the rest of the way in. Along with the finger itself. It slipped out a moment later, soaked, and playing with her clit.

It was an erotic sight, to be sure. Seeing a giant vagina before me, soaked and radiating enough heat to squint my eyes. A vagina that had gobbled up at least two people, probably more, while its clit was flicked and rubbed. The echoing moans of my queen tried to persuade me to not only stay but join the others inside her. But I ran. Something inside me snapped and I had to get out of there before I was caught.

But I was.

I was caught.

“Peck.” That was all I needed to hear to stop in my tracks. There was no mistaking who had said my name. Even if I’d never heard her voice before, the boom of it could belong to no one other than a giantess. I turned and saw her.

Her body hadn’t completely paused in its writhing pleasure, but it had slowed. I couldn’t quite read her mood, but she didn’t look mad. She looked more curious than anything. Like she’d seen something new she wanted. I wasn’t so egotistical to think it was me she wanted, but she had said my name, so… Either way, she was looking right at me. She said nothing else other than my name. Her eyes said the rest. She wanted me to approach.

And so, I did.

As I neared, she laid down a hand to the floor. Palm up. I’d never been offered a ride from a giantess before, but it wasn’t hard to parse the intention of the gesture. I climbed aboard and immediately had to keep myself from falling as I rose. Her hand stopped, resting on her chest, just above the slopes of her breasts. Naturally, I had to turn around to see.

There, on either breast, was a woman. Naked. Pleasuring themselves on the Queen’s erect, deep blue, nipples. One had a nipple between her thighs in a leg lock, grinding herself against it as she braced her hands behind her on the supple breast. The other was bouncing on the nipple, laughing as she did, taking breaks only to swivel her hips against the nub and pleasure herself. And in the distance, I could see the Queen’s hand was still fingering herself between her spread thighs.

I could have kept watching for hours, if they’d let me, but something changed. I was no longer resting on the hand; I was being gripped between its fingertips. Softly, but gripped, nonetheless. I saw my destination immediately. The Queen’s mouth. It wasn’t wide open, at least, but it was slightly parted. Even if it was tightly closed, I would have been terrified. I looked up to her eyes and they were looking right at me. And they were filled with lust. Pure lust. Like I had seen in the reddish-blonde woman from the pink room.

My eyes didn’t linger on hers for long. They were more focused on her lips, which were parted to let out quick, subtle, breaths. Just as I felt I was going to be shoved down into her mouth, her lips closed. I was gently placed face down upon her puckered lips. At the very least, I hadn’t been swallowed whole, but that’s not to say I wasn’t in her mouth. Between her lips, snug and secured between those soft tiers, was my painfully erect cock.

It felt amazing.

My fear remained, but it was diminishing fast. It had to make room for the pleasure I was feeling. Suddenly, I felt pressure on my back. It was her finger, pressing me down against her lips. There was my fear again. I felt for sure she was just going to shove me into her mouth. Instead, she was massaging my back. Working my body softly against her lips. Even her lips were working me over. Puckering and relaxing, puckering and relaxing.

She was sucking me off!

It didn’t take me long to get into it. My hips began to move of their own accord, and I no longer needed her finger to guide me. Happily, I hung onto her plump upper lip and started to hump away between her suckling lips. I was getting a damn blow job from the Queen! I was in the Dawn. I didn’t even care that between those lips, hours earlier, passed five unfortunate souls. I didn’t even think about that. I just thought about how soft she felt. About how her moans vibrated through her lips and into my body.

After her hand had left my back, I looked over my shoulder to where it had gone. I caught it just as it landed on her breast. I had no idea if the woman was still there under her palm. The other woman was still on her other breast, though. I had no idea if the woman was okay. I hardly thought about it, I’m sorry to say. I was more focused on the Queen’s hand cupping her own tit and squeezing, sinking her fingers into the supple flesh in a way I wish I could.

The pillow soft lips I laid on, the moaning vibrations running through me, the warmth of her mouth tickling my crotch, the soft suction she applied to my erection, and the sight of her demonstrating the ripe fullness of her tit. It all became too much and I came. I don’t feel bad about that. I assume that was the goal, after all. Seconds later, the Queen came too.

And that’s when things went bad.

For a moment, her lips squeezed tight against me as her body tensed. Her hand squeezed her breast extra tight. Then suddenly, she screamed. A loud, deafening, moaning scream as she undoubtedly came. In most other circumstances, I would have enjoyed seeing that. However, I was on her mouth.

I was on her mouth as it opened.

In an instant her mouth widened, and I no longer had the safety of her plush, pillow, lips to support me. Surprised, I had no time to grab onto anything. I just fell. Knocking my head against her top row of teeth and sliding down the slick and slimy surface of her tongue. As I fell, she was still moaning. Moaning as I fell to my certain death.

I don’t know if it was an accident or not. What I do know is that she most definitely swallowed once I hit the back of her throat. And I swear I could feel her tongue moving against my feet, pushing me further down into the dim, strangely glowing, abyss. Even as I sat in her stomach, I could hear her give soft moans and heavy breaths, her heart rate slowing as she came down from her high.

So, now I sit in her stomach, waiting to be digested. I feel weak. I’m not sure if I’ll still be conscious when I start to visibly digest. I hope not. If I am, I’d see it all. The insides of her stomach are glowing. A bright blue lake of stomach acids. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me. She isn’t human, after all. She’s a monster. A monster who rules over and protects us, sure, but a monster, nonetheless. We’re not just food to her, we’re playthings. Objects of her enjoyment to be used at her leisure. I suppose I always knew that. I just didn’t want to believe it.

I should have left. Like those explorers people call ‘deserters’ and ‘fools.’ Those who don’t buy into the idea that the outside world is far more dangerous than the world inside the walls. Those who venture out into the surrounding forest, ocean, and (rarely) mountains. They’re never heard from again, of course. Everyone always assumed that meant they’d been eaten. Krakens of the deep. Lamia of the forest. And who knows what lives up on the mountains. Maybe they never returned because they didn’t want to. They’d found a better life and couldn’t risk that by coming back to tell us.

I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I made my choice, and it got me devoured. I had a royal blow job before the end, so that was nice. Though I’d hardly call it a fair trade for my life. I wonder if that woman from the pink room survived. Survived the Queen’s orgasmically-contracting inner walls. And if she had, would I have too? I know it makes no matter to dwell on what-ifs, but what else can one do when sitting inside the belly of the beast?

My first day of service was the most important day of my life…because it was the last day of my life.