Musician’s block

Brian stepped out of the storage closet, leaving the toffee-breathed maid to cheerfully reorganize the mops.

He adjusted his sage-green pants, feeling lighter, infinitely more relaxed, and dangerously powerful.

The post-nut clarity hadn't made him feel guilty; it had only sharpened his appetite.

He was wandering the crystal corridors of Brightcastle, actively prowling for his next target, when he heard a frantic, high-pitched buzzing sound. It sounded like a tiny, overworked helicopter.

"Excuse me! Coming through! Official Royal Mail! Very heavy! Please move!"

It was actually that goddamn pixie. The one that delivered that message to Rosalind.

This time, Brian wanted to get a better look.

He had to.

How often did you see friggin’ pixies flying around?

"Whoa there, Tinkerbell," Brian said, placing his palm in front of the tiny tornado. “Take a chill pill.”

She finally stopped in mid-air, and looked at him in a cute state of confusion.

Now that she was hovering at eye level, desperately trying to keep a canvas mailbag that was three times her size airborne, Brian got a really good look at her.

She was only about five inches tall, but she was an absolute pocket-sized masterpiece.

She had short, messy strawberry-blonde hair that stuck up in cute cowlicks, and massive, round sky-blue eyes that made her look perpetually surprised.

Her outfit was not something he’d expect to see on a fairy. A tiny vest over a white blouse and little shorts that clung to her incredibly smooth legs.

And her chest? Way too large on a such a tiny creature. The gorgeous chestpuppies heaved as she panted, little beads of sweat glistening on her freckled forehead. Her translucent wings beat furiously, kicking up a tiny breeze against Brian's face.

Brian’s freshly emptied balls gave a sudden, greedy throb.

He had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snatching her out of the air, stripping off those tiny patchwork clothes, and then stuffing her nude body down his pants.

He could imagine her fluttering around in there, desperately trying to get out, while those plush tits and that tiny mouth was smashed against his erect cock, her equal in size.

Like a dedicated little vibrating pocket-pussy.

Pippa gasped, her big blue eyes locking onto him. "Oh! It's you! The Envoy! Brian Bladeboss! I'm Pippa Thistledown, the kingdom's official messenger! I deliver messages no matter what! Neither rain, nor snow, nor... nor really heavy bags will stop me!"

She hoisted the massive canvas bag higher, her little biceps trembling.

It made her tiny cleavage open up even more as Brian drooled.

"I was looking all over for you!" Pippa squeaked, wiping a drop of sweat from her brow. "I have an urgent, super-duper priority message for you!"

Brian’s smirk faltered. A cold drop of sweat rolled down his thick neck.

"A message?" Brian asked, his voice tightening. "From who?"

"From Flora Honeywell!" Pippa announced proudly. "She said she needs to see you right away! It's an absolute emergency!"

Brian’s stomach dropped into his boots.

Fuck.

Did the village sweetheart suddenly realize what had actually happened on that dough-kneading table? Did she talk to someone who actually knew what an orgasm was? Was this a trap? Was Rosalind waiting for him at the bakery with a pair of candy-cane handcuffs?

"Right," Brian swallowed hard. "Urgent. Got it."

"My duty is complete!" Pippa cheered, doing a wobbly little salute. "Now, off to deliver the Queen's invitations! Away I gooooo—whoa!"

Pippa tried to execute a dramatic mid-air turn, but the massive mailbag swung wildly, throwing off her center of gravity. She spun out of control, zooming blindly down the hallway just as a busty palace maid stepped out of an adjoining room carrying a stack of towels.

"Incoming!" Pippa shrieked.

WHAM.

Pippa flew face-first directly into the maid's massive, apron-bound cleavage.

The impact knocked the maid off balance. She let out a startled yelp, the towels flying everywhere, and tumbled backward onto the plush carpet. Pippa went down with her, buried in the soft avalanche of the maid's chest.

As the maid hit the floor, the tight lacing of her bodice gave way under the strain.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The fabric burst open, and two enormous, pale, heavy breasts spilled completely out into the open air, the large pink nipples pointing right at the ceiling. The left nipple somehow even managed to give Pippa an uppercut as it sprung out.

Pippa tumbled out from between the massive jugs, dizzy and covered in cleavage-sweat, her little wings buzzing confusedly.

"Oh dear!" the maid gasped, her face flushing bright red as she sat up, her massive tits jiggling violently. She didn't bother to cover them, just looked around for her dropped towels. "How clumsy of me!"

Brian stood frozen, his eyes locked onto those glorious, exposed knockers. His dick instantly surged against his zipper.

It would be so easy to just walk over there, pretend to help her up, and accidentally fall face-first into those tits.

But he couldn't.

If Flora was blowing the whistle on him, he was dead anyway. He had to handle that first.

With a monumental, heroic effort of sheer willpower, Brian tore his eyes away from the naked breasts and forced his heavy legs to move.

He waddled as fast as his three-hundred-pound frame could carry him, practically jogging out of the palace and down the hill toward the village.

He found Flora almost immediately.

She was pacing nervously outside her muffin-shaped bakery, wringing her hands together. Her chestnut hair was a little messy, and she was still wearing a fresh pastel-green dress.

When she saw Brian, her face lit up with a mixture of immense relief and desperate worry. She didn't look angry. She didn't look like she was holding a pitchfork.

She ran up to him and grabbed his meaty hands.

"Brian! Oh, thank goodness you're here!" she cried.

"Flora," Brian panted, completely out of breath from his waddle down the hill. "What's wrong? What's the emergency?"

"It's Melody!" Flora said, her hazel eyes wide with distress. "She's... she's not having good feelings at all! I went to bring her some morning tarts, and she's in a terrible state! I didn't know what to do, so I sent Pippa to find you!"

Brian blinked, his panic evaporating, replaced instantly by a growing state of annoyance.

"Melody?" Brian asked. "The bard? The one with the... experimental music?"

"Yes!" Flora nodded frantically, pulling him by the arm down the cobblestone street. "She's completely beside herself! She says her music is broken! Please, you have to help her!"

They hurried down a winding, colorful side street until they reached a house that made Brian want to gouge his own eyes out.

It was shaped exactly like a giant, three-dimensional musical note, painted in bright, clashing shades of teal and orange.

Flora pushed the front door open.

The inside of the apartment was a disaster zone.

Sheet music was scattered everywhere. Dozens of crumpled-up balls of paper littered the floor.

Sitting in the middle of the chaos, on a velvet couch, was Melody Chime.

She looked like a gorgeous, sexy wreck. Her glossy copper-red twin tails were frizzy and unkempt. Her sky-blue dress was rumpled, the short skirt hiked dangerously high on her toned thighs. She was aggressively tearing a piece of parchment into tiny shreds, screaming in frustration.

"It's garbage! It's all garbage!" Melody wailed, tossing the confetti into the air. "There's no innovation! There's no soul! It doesn't sound like a pink sunset! It sounds like a purple Tuesday! It's all wrong!"

"Melody, sweetie," Flora cooed, rushing over to sit beside her, rubbing her back. "It's going to be okay. I brought Brian."

Melody looked up, her bright teal eyes bloodshot and frantic. "Brian? What's he going to do? Does he know how to compose a symphony using only the sound of happy bees?! I’m the only musical genius here and I’m broken!"

At this point even Brian really had no clue why he had been dragged here.

Dragged away from such a perfect pair of bouncy tits. Why was even this world filled with injustice?

Flora looked up at Brian with pure, innocent trust. "Brian, I remembered how... how amazing your special massage made me feel yesterday. It took away all my stress! It made my whole body feel warm and tingly and wonderful! I thought... maybe you could do that for Melody? To help her relax? To get rid of the… what you called it… stress?"

Brian's heart leaped in his chest.

This might actually be better than that floppy pair of maid tits.

"Technically," Flora added, turning to Melody, "he still owes you a thank-you gift anyway, for helping him find the village yesterday! It's the perfect solution!"

A lecherous, ear-to-ear grin spread across Brian's face.

Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

"Flora is right," Brian said, stepping closer to the couch. "You're blocked, Melody. Your, um, artistic energy is all clogged up. You need a physical release to let the creative juices flow again. Thankfully in my country there’s a solution for that. And I am an expert at providing that release."

Melody sniffled, wiping her nose. She looked incredibly skeptical. "A massage? I don't know... I have a strict schedule! I have to come up with a brand new, avant-garde masterpiece by this afternoon for the sugar-plum dance!"

"Melody, please," Flora urged, her voice soft and pleading. "Just trust him. I promise you, it feels like magic. You won't regret it."

Melody looked at Flora, then up at Brian's sweaty, eager face. She let out a dramatic, theatrical sigh.

"Fine," she groaned. "I suppose I have nothing left to lose. My art is suffering. If this 'massage' can save my music, I will try it. What do I do?"

"Well," Brian said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with barely contained lust. "First, you need to take off all your clothes."

Melody blinked. "My clothes? Why?"

"To fully access your creative pressure points," Brian lied without missing a beat. "Fabric blocks the flow of good feelings. Flora can vouch for this."

"He's right!" Flora chimed in cheerfully. "I took all my clothes off too! It's completely normal for his homeland!"

Melody shrugged.

She stood up.

Brian’s breath caught in his throat as she reached behind her back and unzipped her sky-blue dress. She let it drop to the floor in a pool of fabric. Underneath, she wasn't wearing a bra, just those pristine white panties with the little blue bows.

Her lithe, toned dancer's body was a sight to behold. Her firm, bouncy B-cup breasts sat perfectly on her chest, the nipples already slightly hard from the cool air of the apartment. Her stomach was flat, with the faintest outline of athletic abs.

She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her long, toned legs, stepping out of them with a dancer's grace.

She stood completely naked in the center of the room. Her copper-red twin tails framed her bare shoulders. Her neat, trimmed patch of red hair between her thighs drew Brian's eyes like a magnet.

"Alright," Melody sighed, putting her hands on her bare hips. "Now what?"

"Lie down," Brian commanded, his mouth watering. "On your back."

Melody looked around. “Where? On the floor?”

Brian thought about that for a second. Yeah, sure, they could do it on the floor, but he had a more fun idea.

“Why don’t you lie on top of your… piano? Would give me a better working position.”

Once again, Melody just shrugged.

She climbed onto the back of her grand piano, her lithe body stretching out against it. She lied on her back, and her toned legs parted just enough to give Brian a spectacular view of her virgin pussy.

Flora suddenly clapped her hands. "Oh! Wait! We almost forgot!”

Flora ran into Melody's tiny kitchen and came back a second later with a pitcher of sweet-smelling almond oil. She handed it to Brian with a bright, helpful smile.

"Here you go, Brian!" Flora whispered. "Make her feel as good as you made me feel."

He uncorked the pitcher, a massive, filthy grin stretching across his face.

"Oh, don't worry, Flora," Brian growled, taking the pitcher, his eyes locked onto Melody's naked, waiting body. "I'm going to make her sing like never before."

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