Chapter 2: Building Tension
Lute strode with purpose, but it was an absurdity—the marble-floored, octagon-shaped foyer was twice his size, and his boots clapped and echoed off the walls. He did the same thing in the dining hall whenever he was nervous.
The castle of Boobshire had given him more unease than he'd ever admit to or write back to any of his boys from the previous kingdom. Every statue looked like it wanted to say something, every orifice or part of anatomy begging him to fondle it.
Gods, this was a place for people who didn't mind their breasts. And here he was, obsessing like a pubescent teenager.
Lute made a sharp right from the foyer and into a long, winding corridor. He only knew where to go because a curvaceous maidservant had pointed to the statue of a woman who was wearing no more than her birthday suit and two seashells.
As he moved along, eyes on the floor before him, Lute could hear the hum of whispers, the occasional peal of laughter. His heart thumped in his chest, growing louder like the steady rhythm of a drum. He fought the urge to fidget with his jerkin.
The door to King Thorn's chambers was heavy, adorned with brass handles that gleamed under the dim light. As he knocked, his stomach felt like a washbasin full of water sloshing around.
"Enter," called a voice.
Lute pushed open the door. A tall man sat on a throne, grizzled hair pulled tight in a ponytail. His eyes were intense, the faint twinkle of a seasoned pirate.
"Kneel," ordered King Thorn.
Lute sighed, willing his legs to bend.
The King's gaze didn't leave his, appraising and unnerving like a hawk about to strike.
"Rise, Sir Lute Hendley," said the King in a deep voice, after what felt like forever. Lute stood up, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of vulnerability. He watched as the man stood, tall and imposing, and walked down the few stairs from his throne.
Lute's heart continued to race, sweat dripping down his brow, but he maintained eye contact, unwavering.
"Look at me, young knight. I can see it in your eyes. Your obsession, it's quite clear. It's fascinating, really. Not many men can own up to their true desires in such a way," King Thorn murmured as he approached Lute, stopping just short of invading his personal space.
The room felt hotter suddenly, Lute's cheeks flushed.
He had always been transparent about his attraction to women with larger endowments, but he felt vulnerable now, standing before the king of Boobshire.
Lute swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. "I..." He paused, collect himself and gather his thoughts. "I have a weakness. I confess, it's not something I'm usually so forthcoming about. But I find myself drawn to women... of a certain size."
King Thorn's eyes glinted with approval. "It's quite rare to find a man so open about his desires.
Fear not, Sir Lute Hendley—I understands your predicament," smirked King Thorn. "I have a test for you. If you pass, you may stay here and earn a place in my court. If not, it'll be a difficult journey back home, knight."
Lute wasn't one to shy away from challenges, and he licked his lips, steeling his resolve. "What must I do?"
"In this very throne room, there is a sculpture hidden—a familiar figure might help you locate it. Should you find it, come to me and tell me its measurements." Lute nodded, brow furrowing in thought. He scanned the room—the walls weighed down by thick, velvet drapes and the floor adorned with ornate rugs.
His eyes widened as they fell upon the sculpture, nestled between two marble pillars against the wall. An aptly placed bust of a woman, with her arms folded delicately under her colossal chest.
A smile teased at the corners of Lute's lips. "34 DDD," he declared in confidence.
King Thorn's brow furrowed. "Is that so?" he contemplated.
Lute swallowed. "34 DDD. And I reckon 500 ccs. saline."
King Thorn studied his face, deep consideration etching his features. Then suddenly, he let out a roar. "Why you are correct, Sir Lute! I commend your observation. Few men can measure things as accurately as you. I believe you prove yourself worthy of a place in the court of Boobshire."
Lute breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. A smile crept to his lips. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"But, Sir Lute Hendley, what makes you so perplexed by large breasts? Surely you have seen them before," asked King Thorn with a bemused expression.
"Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty. But never like those I've seen around the kingdom of Boobshire. They're rather... hypnotizing, to say the least. Their sheer size and voluptuousness, it's all just so new to me," Lute admitted, looking the King in the eye.
The King nodded with understanding, "Ah, yes." He gestured towards the statue and continued on, "this is a bust of my wife, Queen Cleavage. She was the first to receive a "breast augmentation" that Boobshire is now known for. For this is why we tout the most fine specimen of women —one that is able to be well endowed while still sporting skinny waists.
Lute listened intently, the gears in his mind racing to process this sudden tidbit. He always thought he was alone in being fascinated by larger breasts, but it seemed like such a thing was baked into the core of this entire kingdom. It made him smile, both bewildered and intrigued.
"In the kingdom of Boobshire, we value women for their confidence, power, and femininity — large breasts being a symbol of that power in our culture. It is a rite of passage for women to undergo an enhancement when they are of age. And for that I have my first task for you as a member of my court."
Lute looked at the King, interest piqued. "Your Majesty?"
"Princess Lorelia's chambers, first door to the left," the King commanded. "I wish for you to be the first to anoint her new assets"
Lute didn't dare to blink, still trying to piece together what just transpired.
"It's an honorary ceremony of great significance here in Boobshire." The king's face was stone cold, yet Lute noticed he had a raging boner.
"Your Majesty, I assure you, there is none who could be more honored than I. But may I ask, why are you so fond of large breasts? I must confess, it is a curiosity I have long held," Lute questioned, scrolling through his memory of Queen Cleavage.
King Thorn smirked, a knowing look in his eyes. "A man such as yourself, possessed of such fine taste, should understand that the feminine form is a beauty that all man are entranced by. And breasts? They're symbols of abundance, power, and desire. " He began to stir and Lute noticed his bulge growing bigger. The King went on, "Breasts are an essential part of our culture, even considered as a sign of social status. Their size, shape, and firmness are all traits that society values and cherishes. And with the advancements in medical science, we are able to enhance those traits."
Lute couldn't help but feel surprised at the idea of breasts being objectified in such a manner. In his hometown, speaking so frankly of a woman's body was a crime. But Boobshire was no ordinary kingdom. The way they idolized larger-breasted women was nothing short of extraordinary and erotic, Lute realized.
Sensing his curiosity the king doubled down, "Don't worry my virile son. You're no longer in your indigent feminist parish. It is purely natural to lust after such ample bosom's. A woman's biggest honor is to serve her fellow brothers with
her vast chest, presenting the gifts of nature gracefully for man's pleasure."
Lute tried to contain his emotions, trying to suppress a grin. He knew deep down that his upbringing had taught him otherwise, that the sight of a woman's body should be respected and admired privately. Still, this new thinking excited him. He found it bold and inspiring, even if it went against some of his long-held beliefs.
And just like that, Lute found himself drawn into the realm of decadence he was about to enter.