This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/c/SmallScribble.
The Kingdom of Indyrge.
Within the confines of the third princess's chamber, the atmosphere was still stagnant and suffocating.
The room remained shrouded in darkness, a chaotic mess of overturned chairs and broken tables littering the floor.
Furniture lay scattered as if a violent storm had passed through the chamber, leaving only wreckage behind.
Upon the disarrayed bed sat a lone figure, clad only in a crimson nightgown that failed to conceal the curvature of her naked body.
She sat upright against the headboard, her gaze fixed upon the ceiling above.
Her eyes, once bright with nobility, were now empty and hollow, staring blankly as if she were naught but a silent, lifeless corpse.
Fshhh… drip drip.
"Another two days have passed, and I still cannot bring myself to face the world," she whispered, her hollow eyes scanning the numerous untouched food trays scattered across the floor.
Whoosh—a soft splash.
She lowered her gaze toward her abdomen, noticing the subtle, slight swelling of her belly.
Strange… she mused, her mind racing.
She had not consumed a single morsel of food, yet her stomach appeared bloated, as if filled from within.
SSSHHHH—KSSPLASH!
"Oh, it is quite full...," she remarked drily, casting her gaze downward toward her crotch, where that monstrous appendage remained stubbornly, unyieldingly attached.
She lifted the crystal glass bowl, pressing it to her lips to take a draught.
Gulp.
After a mere tiny sip, she paused, her brow furrowed. 'The flavor is… peculiar.'
Another sip.
Gulp.
'Yet, I find no distaste for it,' she mused silently, her gaze wavering.
She proceeded to drain the entire contents of the glass bowl.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
'I have been doing this for a few days, surviving solely on this strange liquid… yet…'
She paused, her gaze drifting away before setting the bowl down.
#######
'She is the reason I have become like this…' she thought, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Sssshhh—plash.
The sound of rhythmic, dripping liquid echoed throughout the silent, eerie chamber.
#######
She had been feasting upon this substance for days on end.
Each time the glass bowl was replenished, she consumed every drop, again and again.
'I am… addicted to this flavor,' she admitted to her own spiraling consciousness.
She once attempted to touch herself, but the gnawing, relentless urge held her back, keeping her restrained in a cycle of hesitation.
#######
"Someone please save me… I do not wish to perish like this," she whispered, her voice a mere, fractured whisper barely audible even to her own ears.
As if responding to her desperate plea, a profound change occurred within her tormentor.
#######
That familiar sensation returned, the searing, relentless burn flared up intensely in her loins once again.
Yet, she was so utterly exhausted, so profoundly defeated, that she lacked even the will to raise her hands and fight the excruciating feeling.
Let the pain consume her completely, it was her last thought as darkness claimed her once more.
Awakening to the bleak reality of her chamber, Rosalinda instinctively reached for the glass bowl, lifting it to her lips with trembling hands.
Nothing.
Empty, hollow silence met her seeking tongue, an utter void where the viscous liquid once dwelled.
She glanced down, shock jolting through her frame.
It was gone.
#######
She scrambled to investigate, pressing her fingers against her smooth skin, probing desperately again, and again, and yet again.
#######
She should feel relief, elation, perhaps even gratitude, shouldn't she? Yet, deep within her fractured mind, a strange, gnawing void persisted, an emptiness left in the phantom limb's absence.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, her gaze swept the room, landing upon the discarded, untouched trays of food littering the floor.
They were now ruined, inedible masses.
Hunger finally stirred, a raw, demanding sensation she had almost forgotten existed.
'I need to eat,' the thought emerged, surprisingly clear amidst the mental fog.
Rosalinda lurched towards the bustling dining hall, driven by a hunger she had nearly forgotten.
Yet, as the first succulent morsel of roasted meat touched her tongue, her expectations shattered.
It tasted utterly bland.
"Chef!" she demanded, her voice thin and brittle, "Did you forget to season this?"
The head cook, wiping his hands nervously, bowed low. "My apologies, Your Highness. I assure you, it was prepared with our usual precision."
She took another reluctant bite, forcing it down before pushing the plate away with a grimace.
"Then why," she seethed, "does it taste like I'm consuming dampened paper? This is revolting."
Her cutlery clattered onto the plate as she stood abruptly, her meager appetite annihilated by the crushing disappointment.
Without another word, she swept out of the dining hall, leaving behind a tense, confused silence.
The chef waited until she was gone before cautiously picking up her abandoned fork and knife.
He sliced a thin piece, placed it in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.
'Tastes perfectly normal…' he pondered, his brow creasing. 'What happened to her?'
-
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"Sergeant…"
Ysabel stood frozen, the call ringing in her mind but not registering.
"Sergeant? Hello? Are you still there, Sergeant?"
The voice, impatient now, finally pierced the fog. Ysabel snapped back to the present.
"Y-yeah! I'm here! What is it?" she stammered, scrambling for composure.
Across from her, the soldier she'd been conversing with sighed dramatically, puffing out her cheeks. "Sigh… We were just discussing where to go for our date tonight?"
Heat flooded Ysabel's face. "Of-of course! I was listening! Totally!"
The other woman's expression grew skeptical. "Oh, really? Then tell me—
, what did I just suggest?"
Blankness. Ysabel's mind raced, finding only static. "U-uhm… I… ah! It must be… Wait!" Her face flushed a deeper crimson as inspiration struck.
"Third Princess! She… she just summoned me! Emergency! Very urgent!" She scrambled to gather her gear, turning her back in a frantic retreat. "I'll see you later!"
"Hey, wait—"
But Ysabel was already gone, leaving her comrade fuming and unheard.
'What the hell is happening to me?' Ysabel berated herself, her boots pounding a staccato rhythm as she fled, shame burning hot in her wake.
'What is wrong with me?!' she gasped again, finally halting her panicked flight to gulp in air she hadn't realized she was denying herself.
Huff… huff…
'I can't… stop… thinking… about that day,' she confessed to the silence, her cheeks burning anew.
The image of the blonde haired, blue-eyed woman rose unbidden in her mind, as vibrant and intoxicating as a poison.
'When she… when she stole my first kiss…' Her fingers unconsciously traced her suddenly too-sensitive lips.
'And when she forced her… her thing inside me…' Her trembling hand slid lower, resting protectively over the steel plates of her belly armor.
'ARRRGGGHHHH!' A choked sob escaped her as she slammed both palms against her temples.
The memories were like hooks in her flesh, dragging her relentlessly back to the ecstasy and terror.
That woman voice, cool and mocking, whispered through her brain.
Her smell, of leather, skin, and some dark spice, lingered like a ghost.
But most of all… that triumphant smile… The one she wore as Ysabel shattered beneath her.
"Why can't I banish her face?!?" she pleaded aloud, the impulse to dash her skull against the palace wall beside her overwhelming in its intensity.