Little King (4)

Rhancar was fast asleep, and didn’t hear the footsteps approaching his room. The room in question was little more than a glorified closet, a dip in the castle walls into which three shelves were set. The top shelf held his bed, a cubic frame of woods inside which was a folded cloth. On top of this, lay Rhancar, hidden from view by the sheet draped over the frame. The door creaked as it was opened, unlocked from the outside by the maid. The thin fabric covering his bed allowed the light to flood in and he opened his eyes.

The maid pulled off the cover and the tiny boy had to squint as he was blinded. He made out the emaciated figure of the young maid that attended to the queen. There were three such girls, all around his own age, who the queen kept around her to be as her personal servants. Rhancar remembered them when they first arrived in the castle, but now, they were far from the pretty things that they had once been. Queen Elenor kept them hungry, on the brink of starvation, and it showed in the young woman’s gaunt appearance. He grimaced at the cruelty his step-mother could show, but said nothing, still too stunned from his rude awakening.

‘The mistress is ready for her bath,’ the giantess announced, smiling wickedly. Rhancar froze as he knew well enough what was about to happen from years for such torment. To her credit, the Queen never kept a pattern and always made the tiny boy guess what fresh hell was to served up to him each day, but bathing was easily the most dreadful torture. He sprang to his feet, trying to get away from the maid, but it was a futile endeavour. They both knew that he couldn’t get very far in the closet, and she would easily be able to catch him.

Unfortunately, the cruelty shown to them had fostered the same within the maids and the young girl relished the excuse to be a part of suffering that was directed at someone other than herself. Feigning surprise at the tiny boy’s movements, she made a fist with her right hand and swung down hard at his little body. Rhancar managed to dodge the strike, but the resulting vibrations as the giantess’s hand struck the shelf knocked him off of his feet.

‘Hold still,’ she hissed menacingly, raising her fist over his sprawled out form.

‘Stop, I’m not running,’ Rhancar managed, but the young maid didn’t care. With a cruel smirk of satisfaction on her face she slammed her balled up fist on the puny figure and felt him squish against the shelf with a crunch. The maids all seemed to love this game, or violently torturing the little prince, getting out their anger and envy of even the lowest of the ruling class. What was best about Rhancar was that he would heal, and there would be hanging or burning for treason. The maids even felt like the Queen enjoyed when they bullied him, and were more than happy to crush the pathetic half-royal out of shear hate.

She raised her fist, taking great pleasure in the sight of the crippled, broken human, his dark skin a mess of protruding bones and blood. But sure enough, before her very eyes, he twisted and contorted back into his normal shape, and after a few moments, there was no obvious source of the blood that was dried on the giantess’s hand.

‘That's better,’ Mercia grinned, before once again scowling at what she had to do next. She roughly snatched up the tiny adolescent, only a year or two younger than her if she knew how to count, and slammed the door to his “room" in her frustration. The gaunt blonde wore the drab, brown robes of a maid, and she cursed everything around her as she stomped down the corridor towards the stairwell. The large, cool stones underfoot were icy against her bare feet, and her only respite was when passing over the few rugs scattered around the castle. It had always made the castle feel cold and unwelcoming, and that was precisely what Elenor had wanted.

She climbed up the spiral stairs to the second to last floor, on which, the royal bedchambers were. She stepped out of the stairwell into a vastly different world. The corridor was almost fully covered in luxurious carpets of thick, exotic fur. They felt so soft and warm underfoot, that Mercia forgot for a moment that it was winter outside. The walls were lined with tapestries and lit torches were spaced every few feet. The warmth in the corridor in fact came from the roaring fire at the end of the long stretch stone, its smoke shooting straight up through the chimney, past the guard post on the roof, and into the sky. Mercia had been told my another servant that once upon a time, the hearth was lit at the base of the castle and its heat spread through the entire structure. But the Queen had decided that too much heat was wasted on undeserving workers, and had had the heating system blocked off, so that the fire was lit, and only warmed, the royal level.

Mercia stomped down the corridor, passing the grand double doors to the royal bedchamber, and past the equally impressive doors to the Queen’s private chamber. Finally, she reached the bathroom, and knocked softly on the door, waiting to be called in. With her other hand, she made sure to give Rhancar a tight squeeze, having perfected the art of crushing his torso and crumbling his hips and ribs without damaging the rest of him. The tiny boy screamed, groaning in agony with a breathless, nearly silent voice. The door opened and Mercia loosened her grip, allowing him to heal slowly as they entered the steamy room.

The bathroom on the royal floor was unlike any she had seen before. The stone floor of the vast space was largely bare, giving the room an airy atmosphere. On the outer wall was a pair of windows, covered in dazzling stained glass, through which a rainbow of colours danced into the room. Along one wall was a privy, whose chute led down the height of the castle to the earth below. Unlike a normal pit in which the filth would simply decompose, the royal toilet let to a room in the servants quarters underground, which was regularly emptied to stop the foul smells from rising back up into the bathroom.

In the middle of the room was the centre-piece, a cast-iron tub, six feet long and four feet wide, raised off the floor by four ornate animal legs. The copper-coloured marvel had no drain, and needed to be filed and emptied with buckets, with boiling hot water carried up the stairs by hand. It required so much effort to use, that even the king preferred to wash himself on the lower floors, but alas, the Queen demanded her regular bath to be in her preferred spot.

She was already in the water now, her head visible over the steamy surface. The bath was full to the brim and any movement of its occupant would splash the warm, soapy water onto the slick stone tiles around it. One would have thought it to be dangerous, but her maids knew better than to let her slip. After all, she had once had three maids, but one hadn’t been careful enough at bath time.

The third girl, brought to the Queen at childhood for her beauty, was leaning uncomfortably over the side fo the tub, dressed in rags similar to Merica’s. The young woman’s tattered black hair was wrapped together with some string and tucked into the back of her garments. Beads of sweat had formed on the pale skin of her forehead as the room was little less than a sauna, warm despite the losses of heat to the cold air outside.

‘Ah, girl, you are slow, but at least you arrived eventually,’ the Queen nodded to Mercia, her face not smiling, but not quite frowning either. Her servants could never read her expressions, and she only ever showed them twisted joy or menacing neutrality, so they never had a chance to guess what she was thinking.

‘I was beginning to think that I would have to send Dalia after you,’ even with her eyes half closed and resting in a pool of water, the Queen held a threatening aura of dominance. Mercia felt like she could hardly breathe without worrying that she had done something wrong, and that was how Elenor liked it. The defiant, angry servant girl had melted away. In Her presence, she was just a frightened child once more, living a life that she dreaded, where sleep was the only temporary solace where she didn’t have to face the harsh reality of her life.

‘Come along now, bring him to me,’ Elenor beckoned, the faintest hint of annoyance in her tone at having to ask in the first place. Mercia nodded and stepped towards the tub, the tiny boy still in her hand.

***

‘Good morning, I’m here for …’ Sebastian started, but was cut off by the servant.

‘Are you the carpenter?’ the young man demanded frankly.

‘Yes,’ Sebastian nodded, opening his mouth to explain further.

‘Finally, come this way, you have kept my mistress waiting long enough.’

The 37-year-old tradesman hobbled into the manor house with a large creation under one arm. He had brought some tools with him to make alterations, but really this was nothing more than a delivery. Sebastian followed the servant out of the cold winter street and into a modestly warmed home. The decorations were spares and tacky, but the sheer space inside the home told him that his patrons were far wealthier than he was. The servant quickly led him up a flight of stairs, not offering to help with the item he carried, and promptly stopped before a set of double doors.

The servant knocked once and waited for a reply.

‘Who is it?’ demanded a voice.

‘Your carpenter is here with the piece you ordered, mistress,’ the servants tone had changed so completely that Sebastian thought that even his voice sounded different, less grumbling and more grovelling.

‘Send him in.’

The servant nodded to the invisible voice and stepped aside, pushing open the door and gesturing for Sebastian to walk through it. The carpenter obliged, nodding his thanks. As he turned his head, he caught sight of his patron at long last. The Lady had sent a servant with instructions for the creation of her product, but it was only now that the man was actually meeting her, for the final appraisal of his work, and his payment.

The Lady Cordelia was a striking woman, at 6’2" she towered over most men, but she was no beanpole. The black-haired beauty was as large as she was long, with hips wider than the carpenter’s shoulders and a bosom to match. She was dressed in a ruffled, pale blue gown with no frame. Instead, her body held the fabric up as it pushed and stretched the material to fit her voluptuous proportions. Almost at once, Sebastian caught himself staring at her huge breasts as they seemed almost too full to sag beneath the support-less bust of the dress, and he had to remind himself that she was a married woman.

The 28-year-old Cordelia had not been born in this kingdom, and in fact, was more or less average for a woman of her home kingdom of Miessen. She had found it amusing at first to tower over her husband, joking in private that he was not man enough for her. Too sadly she had been proven right, as the busy, nervous, Lord Daniel never seemed to be in the mood to spend time with her in their bed. She brushed a stray lock of her curly hair from her face, never really enjoying the stylish haircuts of the locals which currently consisted of shorter hair on the sides of her head that were to be tied around her crown, while the rest of it fell loose on her back. She didn’t like the tight braids and so most of her hair hung loose beside her ears, but it was hardly the first thing that people noticed about her anyway.

With a chubby face supporting several chins that wobbled as she chewed, the lady was partaking in one of her few likes about the Kingdom of Hagrin; chocolate. Sebastian noted the wooden box of sweets on the table before her, but averaged his eyes, lest he be judged rude for asking for some. He instead tried to meet the lady’s eyes and was instantly relieved to find friendly brown orbs looking back at him.

‘Good morning, sir,’ she smiled, an inviting, carefree air around her, ‘Have you brought what I ordered?’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Sebastian bowed, moving to take a knee and present her piece.

‘Oh come now, there’s no need for bowing and kneeling,’ Cordelia giggled, a friendly, disarming sound, ‘Bring it to me, and place it on the table for me to see.’

Doing as he was told, Sebastian carried the wooden creation to the table before her, as the woman leaned forward to move aside the chocolate box. The carpenter couldn’t help but glance at her swaying bosom as she leaned over her gut to make room, her plump arms making way for his work to be displayed. He raised it and placed the creation on the table. Cordelia stared at it with glee.

‘It is exactly what I asked for!’ she exclaimed with joy, ‘Talk me through it, would you?’

‘Of course, my lady,’ Sebastian said, blushing a little as he always did when lady’s asked him to speak. She cleared his throat as he looked down at his work and thought quickly of what to say.

‘As you asked, my lady, I have made a cage fit for “a creature no larger than a thumb.” I have made a spacious interior with a small raised square in which you could pace the animal’s bedding if you should so choose,’ Sebastian described, ‘The whole structure was sanded smooth, as per your specifications, and the inside of the cage is roughly two hands-breadths by one hands-breadth. As you can see, the bars that form the outer walls of the cage are about half a fingers-breadth apart, so that it will hold your pet, but they are thin enough that they should not impede your view of it.’

‘The top of the cage is removable,’ Sebastian explained, gesturing to the cage, ‘And the handle was made to your specifications, also smoothed and polished.’

‘And its strength? What if I were to drop it, so to step on it?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Unless you are riding a horse when you do, the main supports on the sides should hold the cage together. Also, I have placed a support beam in the centre of the box, directly over the handle, so that will add more strength as well.’

The dark-haired woman observed the box with awe and a hunger in her eyes. She bent forwards, taking in every detail of the shiny creation, before raising her head.

‘You have done marvellously, sir,’ she congratulated, standing, making Sebastian blush even more, ‘But I will need to test it before I am satisfied.’

‘Of course, my lady, by all means,’ the carpenter gestured with both hands.

‘Good,’ Cordelia smiled, meeting his eyes. He would never have expected what happened next, and it so surprised him, that Sebastian couldn’t help but gasp before he recomposed himself. Without the slightest warning, the towering woman flicked a knot on her back, and her pale blue dress slipped off of her shoulders and down to her ankles. Sebastian was left face to face with the bare naked glory of the curvy woman, impossibly managing to keep his eyes up for even a heartbeat.

But he couldn’t hold her gaze for long and his eyes darted down her thick neck, to her pale, bulky shoulders and chest, down to her massive boobs. The two white orbs hung from her chest like sacks of water, wobbling as she breathed. Large areola were pinned around thick, erect nipples that pointed up at him and it was all that he could do not to let his knees buckle. The gaunt, ever-hungry tradesman had never laid eyes on such a woman before, and as his eyes followed her body down, even her hefty, ringed belly seemed alluring. The hanging flesh only just covered the top of a thick bush of hair, like a forest of darkness on her otherwise snowy skin. Beneath this jungle were two pink lips, spread open and wrinkled from passing six children between them, but moist, and virile. These disappeared between thighs as thick as Sebastian’s head, as her bare legs ballooned out before slimming again at the knees.

Cordelia savoured the man’s discomfort for a moment more, still not understanding why the people in this kingdom were so ashamed of their natural forms. She did however reach behind her and watched as the carpenter followed her arms. With one hand, she grasped her huge left butt cheek and pulled it aside. With the other, she reached into her crack with a finger and thumb and bore down on her target.

As Sebastian watched in stunned attraction, the huge lady pulled out a tiny woman from deep within the canyon of her rump, and held her out in front of her. The giantess reached forward and gripped the handle of the box, a long, vertical shaft with a curved tip, and lifted the lid of the cage. With childlike amusement, she dropped the puny woman into the cage and replaced the lid. Sebastian managed to glimpse a head of blonde hair and bare skin, streaked with brown marks and bruises. He watched the little woman gasp and crawl along the cage, unable to stand but retreating from the thick, bare legs of the giantess that dominated one side of the little table. Sebastian was horrified as he realised that this cage was not for animals, but for the small folk that he so often saw around the town. Cordelia could see his confusion and couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Don't worry, they aren’t able to think as we do,’ she explained, ‘And I have it on good authority that the little vermin love nothing more than to satisfy their carnal desires beneath normal women. Mine will love their new home. But I still need to test the top.’

Stepping free of her gown, the chubby woman walked over to a set of drawers to one side of the room. The carpenter watched as her magnificent body shook with each step, the force of each footfall travelling as a ripple up her fatty legs and dissipating through her ass and belly, leaving only the tiniest wobble in her breasts. With her back to him, he could see her humungous, wide ass in all its glory, the fleshy, dimpled cheeks are as they day she was born.

He caught a whiff of the scent of the tiny woman and he realised that the creature reeked of shit. He gulped when he realised that if he could smell it, the poor thing must have been in a veritable hell before, trapped in the tight crack of Lady Cordelia’s butt, forced to smell the source of the stench for God-knows how long with no respite. He could only imagine what horrors the diminutive woman must have suffered, and indeed the other tiny people of whom the dark-haired woman had spoken.