Through These Doors Lie Untold Titty Riches

The traveling trio passed through the edge of the bordertown and quickly closed the distance between it and the massive walls that enclosed the Queendom of the Cows. The day was young, the sun was not yet at its apex, and the sound of the wind rustling the soft grass put them all at ease. After all the weird shit they'd been through in the last few days, the adventurers naturally assumed that something dramatic would happen once they got to the gates.

As they drew closer to the gated wall Grimm's thoughts turned to the bandit compound. It felt like so much time had passed since he spent those heady days with the bovine thieves, fucking and sucking and exhausting himself (and them, when he could) without a care in the world. Well, that wasn't necessarily true -- there was the whole matter of being briefly cursed and being coerced into fulfilling a fetch quest for Reese, the bandit leader. But even that had turned out to be a benefit: apart from the obvious fact that completing the quest gave him the opportunity to unburden himself upon Reese in a furious bout of lovemaking, but he'd also met Morag, his fox companion. The surly priestess was currently walking with her hand at her side, keeping the massive drinking horn Millie the innkeeper had given her in return for... something. Grimm's thoughts were, of course, arcing toward the perverse, living as he did in a world where casual sex was currency.

And then of course there was Buttercup, the temporarily-former bandit who now happily marched at Grimm's side. His cow. That's what she wanted him to call her. That's what she wanted him to see her as. And he did, really: their bodies knew each other so intimately now, and after such a short amount of time together, that something special clearly existed between them. Buttercup knew how to exhaust him in a way that no other woman did. Every now and then he'd spy her casting a glance his way, followed by a traitorous blush and a soft, knowing smile. He returned that smile whenever he could.

The walls loomed ahead. The travelers were nearly at the gates, and could now take in the true enormity of the border. By Grimm's estimate the walls stood at least seventy-five feet high, maybe even higher; certainly they could repel any invasion. In fact, now that Grimm thought of it, surely walls of significantly lower height would do the job -- why build them this high? What was going on in the Queendom to necessitate such extremes? And of course, why worry about an invasion at all? There had not been any war this side of the Goddess's Backbone in centuries.

The gates were ornately carved, depicting stylized bovine visages, their horns curling up toward the center-point between the tops of the doors. The noses of the cow-faces were "pierced" through with enormous chains that linked to gigantic wheels affixed to the ground. Activating the wheels would pull the chains, opening the doors.

There was a small line of people waiting to get in. Most of them looked to be common folk -- families, merchants, etc., some of them chatting amongst themselves, others silent. An acolyte of the Goddess was there, too, handing out small medallions to those who asked. Morag smiled at the sight of the young woman.

Grimm looked at the guards. There were only a dozen -- three in front of the gates; five moving among the crowd, checking for entry coins; two manning the wheels; and one, a guard captain, barking orders to the crowd, with a subordinate standing at attention behind her.

It had been a long time since Grimm had entered the Queendom, but he remembered the guard uniforms well enough. They hadn't changed, really, aside from some minor alterations Grimm put down to modernization. Perhaps it was a side effect of being naturally curvaceous and/or muscular, but the bovine guards' uniforms were unnecessarily skimpy. The bulls wore polished chest pieces, pauldrons, bracers, greaves, and loincloths, and nothing else; the cows wore armored bodices, greaves, bracers, and loincloths. Both sexes wore small helms that accommodated their horns.

"If you have an entry coin, present it now!" the guard captain shouted. She was standing arms akimbo, wearing a bored expression. "If you do not have an entry coin, your passage will be denied!" The captain was wearing slightly different armor from the rest of the bunch, befitting her higher status: she wore elaborate pauldrons, a waist-length cape, and an impressive helm. She wasn't wearing her helm at the moment, though, having elected to keep it tucked to her side. All of this plus the fact that as a cow she was, of course, positively pneumatic, possessed of an enormous pair of breasts that strained her bodice. They produced an expansive sea of cleavage, the tops of which jiggled and bounced with every movement no matter how subtle.

It didn't look like anyone in attendance would be turned away today. Or, Grimm thought, perhaps anyone who wouldn't be admitted had already left and the guard captain was just going through the motions until they opened the gates.

Speaking of which...

"Fine," the captain said, motioning toward the wheelsmen. "Looks like we're all good. Open 'er up!" The burly bulls nodded and went to work turning the enormous wheels, pulling the chains linked through the doors.

There was a titanic grumbling as the gates began to open. They slid hard against one another, spitting out thick clouds of dust.

Buttercup reached up and grasped Grimm's hand. She did it almost as a reflex, not a conscious action, for when Grimm turned to look down at her her eyes were fixed firmly on the gates. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly, pulling the straps of her traveling bags tight against her chest with her free hand. "I've just... never been there before."

"Really?"

"Never." She looked up at him. "But I've always wanted to." She smiled. "Have you ever been?"

"Yeah. Once, for a quest. I was there for a few months." He grinned down at her. "There's a few places I'd love to take you."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." Grimm squeezed her hand again; Buttercup did the same back.

"Shit," Morag muttered, making sure her things were secure. "This feels... weird. Different, y'know? Like we're at the start of a new chapter or somethin'."

"I know what you mean," said Grimm.

"Yo, Grimm."

"What's up?"

"While we're there... I'd like to visit the Great Temple. If we have time."

"We'll make time."

Morag smiled softly. "Thanks." She, too, looked absentminded all of a sudden, caught up in the drama of the gates' opening. Buttercup reached over, took Morag's hand, and squeezed. Morag looked at the cow's hand, then her face, and smiled again. "Excited?"

"Yeah," Buttercup said, smile broadening. "I feel like the real adventure's just starting."

"Me too," said Grimm.

"Me three," agreed Morag.

The gates opened. They followed the crowd inside.

And the Queendom of the Cows threw its arms open and embraced them.