Good feelings

Brian sat at the bar for a long time after Tansy went back to her chores, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour.

He had to play this perfectly.

He had a literal paradise sitting in front of him, ripe and untouched, but he couldn't just go full degenerate on day two.

He had to be smart. Patient. He had to build trust.

The castle was out. Too risky, too soon. A princess with a sword and a royal guard. No, thank you.

But the gardener?

Sweet, soft, helpful Flora?

The girl who had bent over and flashed her cute little white panties at him in the garden without a care in the world?

She was the perfect first project.

An image of those panties… stretched tight over that heart-shaped ass, digging into the crack… flashed across his mind, and his decision was made.

"Hey, Tansy," Brian called out, sliding off the stool. "Where can I find Flora? I wanted to thank her for helping me yesterday."

"Oh, how sweet of you, dear!" Tansy beamed. "Well, she tends the great Candy Gardens, but in the mornings you'll usually find her at her little bakery! Right across the square and down Cinnamon Lane! You can't miss it, it's the one shaped like a giant muffin!"

A bakery, huh. Brian filed that little detail away. So she baked too. All the better.

---

Getting to the bakery turned out to be a goddamn ordeal.

Brian couldn't walk three steps without someone stopping him.

"Oh, you must be the new traveler!" cooed an old woman with a basket of glittering apples. "Welcome, welcome!"

"A traveler! How exciting!" chirped a young man arranging flowers. "Do you need directions? A snack? A friend?"

"Hello, new friend!" sang a trio of children skipping past.

Brian gritted his teeth and forced out smile after smile, waving them off with a tight "Yeah, thanks, gotta go."

The relentless friendliness was exhausting. It was like being mobbed by a swarm of golden retrievers.

He kept his head down and powered through the village square, finally turning down a quaint little lane lined with shops that smelled of cinnamon and sugar.

And there it was.

A building shaped like a giant muffin, complete with a domed, crusty top and a little chimney puffing out sweet-smelling steam.

A wooden sign hung over the door: 'Honeywell's Hearth-Baked Goods'.

Brian pushed the door open.

A little bell tinkled overhead.

The inside was warm and cozy, the air thick with the smell of fresh bread, vanilla, and baking sugar.

And there, behind a long wooden counter, was Flora.

Brian's breath caught.

She was a vision. She had her chestnut hair pulled up in a messy bun, with little wavy strands falling around her flushed face.

She was kneading a massive ball of dough, her arms dusted white to the elbows.

Her pastel-green dress was streaked with flour, and there was an adorable smudge of it on the tip of her nose and across one rosy cheek.

The way she leaned over the counter to knead, her perky C-cup tits pressed together and jiggled with every push of her hands.

She looked up when the bell rang, and her hazel eyes lit up like the sun.

"Brian!" she gasped, abandoning her dough instantly. "Oh, you came to visit me! What a lovely surprise!"

She rushed around the counter and threw her flour-dusted arms around him in a tight hug.

Her soft body molded against his, and he got a faceful of her hair, which smelled like cinnamon and warm sugar.

Brian wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands slide down her back, getting dangerously close to that perfect ass.

"Hey, Flora," he said, his voice oily and smooth. "I was hoping I'd find you."

She pulled back, beaming, leaving white handprints on his yellow tunic. "Oh, I'm so glad! What brings you all the way down here?"

This was it. Time to set the trap.

"Well," Brian started, putting on his most sincere, grateful expression. "I've been thinking. You were the very first person I met here. You took me to the village, you introduced me to everyone, you've been so kind to me. I really wanted to do something to thank you."

Flora pressed her flour-dusted hands to her cheeks. "Oh, Brian, you don't have to thank me! Helping a new friend is its own reward!"

"I insist," Brian said, holding up a hand. "In my homeland, when someone shows you great kindness, it's customary to repay them with a gift. And the greatest gift we can give... is a massage."

Flora tilted her head, her brow furrowing in adorable confusion. "A... massage? What's that?"

Brian almost smiled.

There it was.

That beautiful, perfect ignorance.

"A massage," he explained patiently, "is a very special technique from my country. It's a way to relieve the body of all its stress. To make you feel relaxed and wonderful."

Flora's confusion only deepened. "Stress? What's stress?"

Brian blinked. "Stress is, you know... tension. Tiredness. When your body is all wound up and achy from working hard."

Flora just stared at him blankly. "But I love working! Baking makes me happy! My body doesn't feel wound up. It feels good!"

Brian felt a flicker of frustration. Trying to explain a concept to someone who'd never experienced its opposite was like explaining color to a blind person.

These people had no stress. No worries. Other than that Dark Realm stuff though, but that seemed hardly a bother.

He took a breath and decided to cut to the chase.

"Look," he said, leaning in. "Forget all that. The point is, a massage makes you feel good. Really, really good. Better than you've ever felt. And I want to do that for you. As a thank you."

Flora's face instantly cleared, breaking into a radiant smile. "Oh! You want to make me feel good? Well, I love feeling good! That sounds wonderful, Brian! Yes, please!"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Great," Brian said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, for a proper massage to work, you have to be completely relaxed. Which means... you'll need to take off all your clothes."

He braced himself for the reaction.

For the gasp, the blush, the slap, the scandalized refusal.

But this was Sugarspire.

"Oh, all right!" Flora said cheerfully, as if he'd asked her to take off her shoes.

And then she just... started undressing.

She reached up and untied the strings of her flour-dusted apron, tossing it onto the counter.

Then she reached for the laces of her dress, loosening them with quick, practiced fingers.

Brian's mouth went dry as a desert.

She tugged the dress over her head and dropped it onto a chair.

She was wearing a simple white camisole and those same cotton panties—pristine white with little pink bows on the hips.

She peeled the camisole off without a second of hesitation, freeing her perfect, perky C-cup breasts.

They sat high and full on her chest, capped with soft pink nipples that pointed slightly upward.

They jiggled as she moved, soft and natural and absolutely flawless.

Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her smooth legs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

And there she stood.

Completely naked.

In the middle of her sunlit bakery.

Smiling at him.

Brian couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe.

He just stared.

Her body was a masterpiece. Soft, creamy skin without a single blemish. Her waist curved in, then flared out into smooth, womanly hips. The neat little tuft of chestnut curls above her plump, perfect pussy.

Her thighs, soft and round and pressed together.

He had spent his entire pathetic life staring at screens, jerking off to airbrushed pixels and rendered cartoons.

And now here was the real thing. A flawless, naked, willing woman standing right in front of him, and she had no idea what he was about to do to her.

"Brian?" Flora asked, tilting her head, her bare tits shifting with the movement. "Are you all right? You've gone all quiet."

Brian snapped out of it, swallowing hard. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. You just... uh. You look great. Perfect for a massage."

"Oh, thank you!" Flora beamed.

"Okay," Brian said, his voice thick. He looked around the bakery and his eyes landed on the long wooden work table where she'd been kneading dough. "I need you to lie down. On that table there. On your back."

He gestured to it.

"Oh, but Brian," Flora said, biting her lip and looking at the table. "That's my work table! I've still got all of Mrs. Plumberry's tarts to finish, and Old Man Cobble's bread, and the pastries for the Henderson family's picnic, and I promised Dewey I'd help him with his first batch of—"

She kept going, listing off a seemingly endless parade of clients and their orders, gesturing at the various trays of half-finished baked goods covering the table.

Brian's eye twitched.

His cock didn't have the patience for this.

He walked over to the table, casually, and with one big sweep of his forearm, he shoved everything off the surface.

Trays of tarts, loaves of bread, balls of dough—it all crashed and tumbled onto the floor in a sad heap of ruined pastry.

"Whoops," Brian said flatly. "My bad. Guess you'll have to start over now anyway. So you might as well take a break and let me give you that massage."

Flora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. For a moment, her face fell, genuine dismay flickering in her hazel eyes. "Oh! Oh, no! All of Mrs. Plumberry's tarts!"

For one tense second, Brian thought he'd overplayed his hand.

But then, just as quickly, Flora's expression smoothed back into cheerful acceptance. She let out a little sigh and shook her head, smiling again.

"Oh well! No use crying over spilled tarts! I'll just bake more later. But Brian, you should really try to be a little less clumsy next time, okay?" She wagged a playful finger at him.

"Yeah," Brian said, barely containing his glee. "Sorry. Less clumsy. Got it. Now hop up on the table for me."

Flora padded over to the now-empty work table, her bare feet slapping softly on the wooden floor.

She hopped up, sat on the edge, and then lay back, stretching out on the smooth wood. Her chestnut hair fanned out around her head. Her tits settled softly on her chest, rising and falling with her breath.

She folded her hands over her stomach and looked up at him, completely trusting, completely relaxed.

"Like this?" she asked.

Brian stood over her, his heart pounding in his ears.

This was it.

The first time in his entire life—both lives—that he was about to touch an actual, real, naked woman.

And what a fucking way to start.

A flawless storybook baker, naked and willing on her own kneading table, with no idea what was coming.

He decided to elevate the experience. He spotted a large jug of golden oil on a nearby shelf, the kind she used for greasing pans.

He grabbed it.

"Now," Brian said, his voice trembling slightly with anticipation. "For the massage to work its best, we need oil. It helps the good feelings spread all over your body."

"Ooh, fancy!" Flora said.

Brian uncorked the jug and tipped it over her.

A stream of warm golden oil poured out, splashing onto her chest and stomach.

He drizzled it generously over her tits, watching it pool in the valley between them, then trickle down her ribs.

He poured more over her stomach, her hips, her thighs, until her entire body glistened and shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Her skin glowed like polished marble, slick and gleaming and absolutely mouthwatering.

"Oh, it's warm!" Flora giggled, wiggling a little on the table. "It feels funny!"

"It's gonna feel a lot better in a second," Brian muttered.

He set the jug down and rubbed his hands together, slicking them with the excess oil.

Then he began.

He started slow, just like he'd seen in a thousand videos. He placed his hands on her oiled stomach and rubbed in slow, circular motions.

Her skin was impossibly soft under his palms, slick and warm.

He worked his way down to her hips, gripping them, kneading the soft flesh.

"Mmm," Flora hummed. "That does feel nice."

He moved to her legs, running his slick hands up and down her thighs, squeezing the soft muscle, working down to her calves and back up.

He was perving over every inch of her, drinking in the sight of his hands roaming over a real woman's body.

He did her arms next, then her shoulders, watching her face the whole time.

Flora's eyes had drifted half-closed. Her breathing had slowed. A soft, content little smile played on her lips.

"This is so funny, Brian," she murmured. "It’s like I’m the dough and you’re kneading me!"

"We're just getting started," he said.

And then, careful not to salivate all over her body, he moved his hands up to her chest.

He cupped both of her oiled breasts, and a jolt of pure electricity shot through him.

They were soft and heavy and perfect, overflowing his palms.

He squeezed them gently at first, kneading the slick flesh, feeling the weight of them.

"Oh," Flora breathed, her eyes fluttering. "Oh, that's a strange feeling."

Brian squeezed harder, rolling her tits in his hands, working them in slow circles.

He let his thumbs drift over her nipples, which were starting to stiffen, hardening into little pink pebbles under his touch.

"That feels... ooh..." Flora's back arched slightly off the table. "That feels really funny, Brian. Why does my body feel so... so warm?"

Brian pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them, tugging them gently.

No hentai manga had ever accurately described how amazing this felt.

Flora let out a soft, breathy moan that went straight to his throbbing cock.

"Ahh—! What... what is that?" she gasped, her cheeks flushing pink. "Brian, my body feels so strange. There's this... this warm tingly feeling everywhere. Especially down... down low. Is that supposed to happen?"

"That's the good feeling," Brian said hoarsely, pinching her nipples harder. "That means it's working. Just relax and enjoy it."

He considered, for one wild moment, just climbing on top of her right then and there. Burying himself in that virgin pussy.

But no.

Patience.

This was about trust. If he made her feel incredible, if he gave her something she'd never felt before, she'd be back for more. She'd be his.

He let one oil-slicked hand trail down from her breast, over her glistening stomach, down to the soft chestnut curls between her thighs.

"Just relax, Flora," he murmured. "I'm going to make you feel even better now."

He found her clit with his thumb.

He'd never touched one in real life, but he'd watched ten thousand hours of porn. He knew exactly where it was and exactly what to do with it.

He started rubbing slow, gentle circles over the little nub.

Flora's whole body jolted.

"OH!" she cried out, her hands flying to grip the edges of the table. "Oh! OH! Brian, what—what are you doing?! Th-that feels— oh my goodness—!"

"Just feel it," Brian coached, increasing his pace. "Don't fight it. Let it happen."

He worked her clit expertly, varying the pressure, the speed, watching her face contort with sensations she'd never even known existed.

Flora was writhing on the table now, her oiled body squirming, her hips bucking up against his hand.

Her moans grew louder, higher, more desperate.

"Brian! Brian, something's happening! Something's building up, I— I can't— it's too much—!"

"That's it," Brian growled, rubbing faster, harder. "Let it out. Let it all out."

In under a minute, Flora hit the edge.

Her back arched clean off the table, her tits thrust upward, her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"AHHHH—!"

And then she came.

Her whole body shuddered violently, her thighs clamping around his hand.

A clear arc of fluid squirted out from between her legs, shooting up and out, splattering across the table and—Brian noted with dark glee—directly onto a tray of pastries on another counter.

Somebody was going to get a little extra salt with their desert.

Flora collapsed back onto the table, her chest heaving, her oiled body trembling, her eyes wide and unfocused.

"Wha... what... was that?" she panted, staring up at the ceiling. "Brian, I've never... I didn't know... what did you do to me?"

Brian wiped his hand on a nearby towel, grinning from ear to ear.

"That," he said smugly, "was a massage. Did you like it?"

"Like it?" Flora breathed, slowly sitting up on her elbows, her face flushed and glowing with sweat and oil. "Brian, that was the most amazing thing I've ever felt in my entire life! You have such an incredible talent! Where did you learn to do that?"

"Back home," Brian said vaguely, his cock still aching in his pants. "It's a very special skill. Not everyone can do it."

"Oh, you simply must teach me more sometime!" Flora gushed, completely glowing.

Brian's grin widened.

He looked at the beautiful, naked, oil-slicked woman sitting on the table, begging him for more, with no idea she'd just had her first orgasm at the hands of a complete stranger.

A whole village full of women like this.

A whole kingdom.

Two kingdoms, if you counted the dark one.

All of them just like Flora.

All of them virgins.

All of them oblivious.

All of them his for the taking.

"Oh, Flora," Brian said, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "We're gonna do this a lot. I promise."

---

Author's Note:

My Subscribestar has been now approved and is active!

https://subscribestar.art/drek

This time, I'm all in. My goal is to make writing these stories my actual career, and every single contribution brings me one step closer to doing this full-time. If you've enjoyed my work, I'd love your support!

(Also, I know I've mentioned my issues with the pics in relation to Patreon, but here on Subscribestar, the style and the videos will remain exactly as hyperrealistic as it currently is!)

Here's what I'm offering across three tiers:

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And, just to be clear, I still plan on releasing chapters here for free. The paying subscribers will get the chance to read ahead in the story.

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