All it takes is but a single, torrid pull of her bodice, a mere tug, for the castle of lies Sir Lockwood has climbed to come toppling to the ground.

It has been a long, hard-fought journey for our brave adventurer - slogging through the swamps of G'shi, fighting his way out from the Dread Dungons of Tarr'aqus, confronting even the fearsome Sorcerer of Too Many Apostrophes, all for the purest of motives: love.

Yes, love, and his chivalrous heart has yearned these many months for the fair Princess, whose visage he holds dear, sketched on a scrap of paper by an old soothsayer foretelling of the purest, sweetest reward the gods themselves might know, if only he can free the lass from her torment in the Tower of Storms.

He has trekked. He has climbed. He has fought, with the sweat of his body and the blood of his soul, through waves of abominations his fearless heart cannot help but quail at, and he is here, at long last, passion welling up inside him, the inhibited lusts of a lifetime bursting into joyful bloom, if slightly tempered by the fact that he thought the Princess had hazel eyes, not the blue beaming before him. Still, he has stepped forth, and -

And the Princess, Rosemelly the Fair, Flower of the Garden of the Kingdom of Ofthes, now has a head where her fair, unspoiled sex is, with both faces she possesses wearing an expression of sheer, disgruntled, shock.

The princess wavers, and, before Sir Lockwood's very eyes, slides off the top of the - princess-half? Other princess? he thinks frantically, before landing on the floor with a most un-royal thump. And standing right back up again, two small and distinctly distraught women turning to glare at each other with blazing eyes.

The princess, it seems, is but two halflings stacked atop each other, in a dress.

"Gods fucking damn it, Melly!"

The speaker jabs her finger into the other's bosom, scowling mightily and producing a distinct gulp from Sir Lockwood at the resulting bounce. "We almost had him, y'dumb cunt! What did you have to go and stumble for! Aw, man. Now we're gonna have to go back to Brundymill and, I don't fuckin' know, spin hay or stack wool or - or whatever. Oh, gaaaaahds, now we're fuckin' done for! You bitch!"

"Rose -"

Throwing up her hands, Rose stalks off into the tower's depths, gathering up the dress with a huff and muttering various obscenities too dire for the recounting, leaving who Sir Lockwood must only presume is Melly standing before him, hazel eyes beginning to wobble wetly with tears.

Stepping gamely into the breach, our hero reaches out a hand, maintaining a most chivalrous gaze away from the svelte sinew and plush curves of the lass he can only think of as a quite literal bearer of bad news.

"I didn't want to," she quivers, clasping her hands to her chest in a way that makes the knight's heart flutter. "She just - she's the bitch, if you'll pardon me; always huffing about how she's destined to be a princess, and how she ain't tall enough, how she wanted a throne, and she just made me, talked me into it! I never wanted to come here anyway; I wanted to on an adventure, and... yeah," she ends quietly, eyes downcast.

Sir Lockwood can't help himself, laying a hand companionably on her shoulder and squatting down - a feat worthy of song itself, in his armor - to look her in the eye with a kind smile.

"It's all right," he offers, in a most inextravagant style for a hero. "It's really all right; I came to rescue a charming lass, and, er, you're one; I'm sure we could scrounge up a dagger for you, and we can go forth together, and - just between you and me," he lowers his voice conspiratorially, "I wasn't looking forward to flouncing about as a prince in some ghastly court costume..."

Cocking his head, though, our brave hero pauses. "But... how did she get you to do this, if she were trying to attract a human knight? I mean, for her, being a princess, but for you... what would you get out of being the bottom...?"

Melly only grins, an impish little blush spreading up to the tips of her pointed ears, and Sir Lockwood is positively smitten.

Don't ask me where this prompt idea came from, but once I had the thought of two halflings impersonating a princess, I couldn't stop myself from writing it!

Kinks: Adventure, rough and lusty romance, butt-stuffing, fantasy romps with a touch of world-building

Limits: Asshole princesses, kids, sexualized gore, and anything that belongs in the night-soil heap.

If you're interested, please do drop me a line! I've always got time for interesting people, I promise.