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Post by 123anon987 on Jul 6, 2021 1:15:22 GMT -6
King Sortin was king of a great, mighty and vast kingdom of elves and some men. As an elf, he lived for 20 times the lifespan of a human. Pitifully short lived, those creatures were. Today he expected a dinner with the queen of the human kingdom Trabon, to his southwest.
Having acended to the throne at the young age of 19, queen Krishna had quickly made many allies and diplomatic manoeuvres through unconventional means. At the young age of 22, what she lacked in experience she more than made up for in what the royal court would call "diplomatic charm".
Now she entered king Sortin's court, striding towards the king himself. He couldn't help be taken aback by the young human woman's majestic beauty. She had a noble face, with features sculpted by angels. The tantalizing face of a gorgeous young woman with just some minor remnants of her girlish looks accenting it beautifully, with a halo of chestnut hair glowing around it. When her chin swung to face them, the men stared at her breathlessly. King Sarton couldn't look away for multiple full seconds, until he perused further down.
She possessed a great, ample bosom, hid only by a veil of cloth hung from her shoulders. But it was only translucent, and her nipples still poked through, additional to the large circle around it. It ended just high enough to spy the bottoms of her woman-parts, especially as they bounced down as part of her gait. They stuck out far, and held high, bedazzeled on top with necklaces of exotic jewels and gold carvings.
Her arms had a perfectly feminine composition of thinness and youthful muscle. Her tight narrow waist was left exposed, and beneath it a tight skirt hid her woman-hood. It revealed her large, powerful buttocks, fueled by youth and an interest by queen Krishna of taking frequent long walks away from her throne. They wiggled seductively to the nobles at the far end as she strutted to the king, lush brown hair billowing just above them. Those long, smooth legs, with the tightness and slimness only young women possess propelled her right up to within an arms reach of the king.
At all this, king Sirton gasped. The words written by others had failed to describe the serene, majestic beauty of this human queen. She was a woman war would be waged over, a beauty to launch a thousand ships. But from her strut Sirton could tell Krishna knew all of those things, everything he and the other men were thinking. She had seen it many times before, clearly. A light, girlish voice rung from her: "May we begin negotiations in private?"
They were on his bed in his personal chambers. The king had been searching for a consort for some time, but none had caught his fancy. This human girl Krishna, however, was a complete exception. She wast tight and slim all over, except for her wonderfully soft bosom and firm bum. Every part of her body testified to being in the prime of her youth. He was on top of her, and flung off her chest veil, revealing great milky spheres. His grasp made her shudder, and quickly he moved to suckling. She started to squirm and gasp in ecstasy, making sounds more like the childish gasps of a preteen girl than an experienced woman. But these evolved to moans as she held her great left udder out for him to suck, him clinging to its great big areola. She was begging him to not stop, to suck her breast harder.
In the morning, she left the documents for an alliance on the bedstand, along with a signed written promise that she would sleep with him again once more at any time he liked, so long as time and distance were not constraints, within reason. At that she departed with a seductive wink and shake of her feminine hindquarters. That was the last he saw of her for some years.
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Post by 123anon987 on Nov 13, 2021 15:03:28 GMT -6
Queen Krishna had become a very successful, proficient stateswoman in time. She used the many dealings and manoeuvres she was capable of in her youth to cement her kingdoms position. She had beared and suckled a few children to secure heirs and alliances, but never married. And yet, she reminisced of how the artists and bards had made songs, paintings, poems and sculptures to her beauty when she was young. Every one of her subjects bragged how the queen of their kingdom was the most beautiful in the known world and recorded history, sculpted by the gods themselves. And yet, years ago,the praises and artistic dedications had dried up. No longer did people greet her saying "oh sculpted queen, your figure is gorgeous to rival the goddesses who shaped you, your majesty" or "I could die now happy having seen your grace with mine two eyes, for all the music and poetry in the land could not describe your true glory" and such now, except by boot-lickers whom all involved knew only said such to flatter her. The most recent poem to her beauty had been written over a decade ago, and about a ceremony she had held some years prior to the time of writing at that. She rarely went out in public, or admired herself in the mirror since she had birthed children and left young womandhood. But now, in front of a large mirror, she examined the form of the "Queen Sculpted by the Heavens" as it looked now that time and child-rearing had befallen it, throwing her robe off too quickly to give herself time to think. In a single quick glance, she saw heaving, falling lumps of pure fat on a once trim body. The glance was enough to tell that the firmness and tightness of a young woman's figure was completely gone. The quick silhouette was not her pure and buxom hourglass of old, but a wrecked mockery oozing and bulging into some new unwomanly shape, only giving a hint of what was once there. Skin rough, wrinkling in places, but devoid of its ivory hue. Hanging jowls obscuring what should be an angular chin. Streaks of grey in her long flowing hair which no medicine in the land had been able to cure. She saw a big something - no two things - hanging down her chest, and couldn't take it anymore. She spun away from the mirror in horror having glimpsed herself in it for less than a second, and donned her robe. She wished it were thicker or more opaque, but her kingdom was hot, and the robe already covered more than it traditionally should. Underneath it, she could feel squeezing, squishing flesh everywhere, around her sides, her stomach, her hips and her buttocks. Loose and flabby flesh, devoid of the youth which gives young women their divine-esque glow that men so adore. The kind of mushy, aged flesh which no woman described as beautiful possessed. "How could this be beauty gifted by the gods?" She asked herself in despair. "I had once been the woman sculpted by the gods. How can this be me?". She mused on her loss. It would appear that while the gods may have sculpted her to rival their own beauty, they neglected to gift her defence against the one vulnerability she had which they didn't. Time. They would not allow a mortal beauty to rival them forever. Perhaps this is the gods way of showing that, now matter what attributes a mortal may have, the gods will always be greater then them, in some way or how. The beauty of aphredious will never fade from time or be drained by the suckling of babies in the way my mortal flesh has. Enough, she had a diplomatic matter to attend to today, and needed to start getting ready. And of all her many lovers, King Sarton was a man she remembered best. It had been a long time, and he had largely forgotten about her kingdom, Trabon, but King Sarton remembered Queen Krishna herself very well. She had been a suprisingly great lover. So much so, that he wrote down exactly what that evening of lovemaking was like the moment she left in the morning. Describing her words, actions, and goddess-like body in absolute, perfect detail. She had never been described or had art or poems made of her by someone who actually saw her naked form or had made love with her, as she frowned greatly on this to her lovers, considering her body sacred. He however saw nothing necessarily wrong with doing so. She had been the first woman, human or elf, to whom he truly loved. He was a relatively young 573 years old, and had stopped searching for a wife the day he met her those 30 years ago. He just couldn't stop thinking about her, even after years, and no other woman he slept with compared to her. He hadn't been able to see her for the last 30 years, as he had been on campaign most of that time, and her kingdom was difficult to reach from his. But, he had dreamed of being with her ever since, secretly cherishing his written account of their romance many nights while at war. He thought of her smooth tight thighs, her gorgeous young face, those large, firm, buttocks, and her gloriously full, perky and round breasts, getting him through long nights of seige and marching. He knew both from memory and his writing that she was a beauty from the heavens, much like the poets described her. It had only been 30 years since they last saw each other, and he knew she would make the perfect wife of his. King Sarton couldn't wait for another experience of her divine beauty, and was very eager about finally getting a reason to visit her. She still had that promise to keep. He arrived at the front gate of her castle, and stepped out of the carriage. He could already envisage her beauty in his mind. She would stride forth with those long legs and womanly, hourglass figure. Those wonderous orbs covered by nothing but thin, translucent fabric, massively jutting forth to show their bare, smooth underside held above a trim stomach by what some considered magic or the will of the gods rather than youthful mortal flesh. She would smile, and bow with impeccable feminine grace and elegance, and he would start courting her and ---oh, the gates were opening! The grand gates creaked open, and king Sarton looked in wonder for the beautiful queen Krishna. What he saw was not what he had been expecting. His perfect memory of her beauty crashed jarringly with what stood before him. Her face was matronly with loose, hanging cheeks and jowls, erasing her angular femininity and giving her a vaguely man-like look. Deep wrinkles surrounded her eyes and mouth, lighter ones blemished the hanging, inelastic leather of her cheeks and forehead, earned by the stress of rapidly growing her kingdom whilst also raising children. There was a tight bonnet on her head, into which all her hair was tucked, exposing nothing but her forehead. She performed a diplomatic smile and said "well, its been awhile, nice to see you again king Sarton" He couldn't help but notice this made her face bunch up in wrinkles around the mouth. Going down past her double chin, her now fat arms jiggled as she raised them in welcome, clearly spotted from too much sun. Half an inch's worth of arm-meat drooped below due to gravity, subtly swinging back and forth with lines of cellulite. A far cry from the muscled, youthful glow of a young woman's. Did she not find it shameful for her flesh to move about in such a manner completely uncovered and exposed to the public? He glared lower and immediately regretted it. He remembered Krishna's breasts like yesterday; massive, round and completely untouched by gravity. They had been used as models by artisans for making the statues of certain goddesses. And those were gone. This now-matron's chest had a steep downward slope, what he could only assume were her mammaries. They appeared to end a few inches above her belly button, where their bulge was greatest. Just above where her robe ended, showing her waist as was customary for queens of Tabon, regardless of their age. These couldn't be the same breasts, no, especially not in so little time. How could this flat slope on the front of a woman be the same thing as those glorious, orbs full of milk and vitality. He stared through the translucent robe, and saw they were indeed breasts, though flat like empty skin and hanging further than a cows udder. Waves of sorrow washed over him, knowing that this was now his glorious Krishna. That this could happen to her, the one beauty in all the world which he adored. At her exposed waist, rolls of fat poured out. "How could she think it decent to show such?" he thought. It was wrinkled and bulging with cellulite. There was no doubt she had borne children, likely several, to ruin a flat stomach so. Hip fat bulged out from her skirt hem to create love handles of a similar, oozing texture. "She certainly must have delivered children to other men" he worried. But did he still even want to marry her? Her skirt went to a bit above her knees, (more annoying tradition) and exposed thick thighs mushing against each other as she stood there. No longer slim, sleek or powerful, only thick with dis-use and devoid of a youthful glow. She clearly noticed his attentive examination of her body, and crossed her arms under her low breasts, lifting them with a look of shame and insecurity. The way they pooled on top of her lifting arms looked only more humiliating and depressing to Sarton. "Well, come, we'll sign the documents in my personal residence at the far end of the castle". When she turned he saw the back of her thighs riddled with cellulite, all the flesh having a gentle droop downwards. And yet, her bum was flat rather than large and powerful like in her prime. Time had not been kind to her, he realized. He had forgotten how cruelly short the lives of humans were. Time had faded a beauty which was once glory of the known world, to a plain, middle-aged matron. So average she wouldn't have been noticed at a common marketplace were it not for her rich clothing and ornaments. He had felt that only a short time had passed, like a sea voyage or trip, and hadn't expected such a short time to utterly destroy a woman so. In some ways, he felt like something had been torn from his heart. While in her diplomatic chambers, they were discussing him sending troops to his southeast and her aiding the campaign with ships and naval invasions. But he couldn't stop thinking about how she had changed. When she rested her arm on the table, the flesh pooled and flattened out onto the desk. How could this be the same woman from my dreams? How could this happen? Was there really now way to prevent it, not even delay it? In the last 30 years, he had gone from a young elvish man to a young elvish man. Yet in that same time she had gone from "god-sculpted beauty" in the prime of her youth to a woman who was on the borderline of being able to be called a hag. What a shame that the gods could allow such. He had intended all this time these last years to make her his wife. Now, he was unsure what to do. Her body had changed, but maybe she had gotten even better in bed, and still possessed that fire in her eyes he remembered from 30 years ago. Either way, there was no reason not to use that promise she gave him. She wasn't getting any prettier. And, who knows, maybe she could still make a wife, at least for the next 30-40 years. "Krishna, I realize it might seem some time ago, but you promised me something, and there is no void date nor excuse to ignore it." He waved that written promise of intercourse in front of her. She stared at it for a second, and then became wide eyed. "What? He wants to sleep with me? Even though I look like this?" She wondered to herself. When he arrived, handsome, chiselled and victorious, she instantly thought of seducing him, as she had on her first visit to him. But then she remembered with despair that those times were long gone, and he would have his pick of the young, beautiful women of this city. Yet still, she had hoped, and amazingly, he wanted her too. It gave her pride for the first time in many years, but also made her insecure of how ugly her naked body had become since their night 30 years earlier. She hoped he didn't remember her as well as she remembered him. "Oh, wow, I nearly forgot about that. But of course, a Queen cant break her promise." She looked at him closely, but he looked more analytical than anything. Not jumping for joy, but what could she expect. This all made her feel somewhat bad for what she was about to do to his kingdom, but she couldn't let personal feelings get in the way of politics. en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heraean_Games
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Post by 123anon987 on Nov 14, 2021 3:37:19 GMT -6
They retired that evening to their personal chambers. Their lovemaking was to take place tomorrow, where and when king Sarton chose. As king Sarton walked to his sleeping chambers, he thought he saw a large, black horse with a purplish mane being led into a stall. That would be very odd, considering such horses were only bred by the Traknons, the kingdom to his northwest and far north of here. They were long-standing enemies of his, and had as much reason to be here as he had sitting atop a cloud in the sky. He probably imagined it, but...
"Cordelius, keep a keener eye about here then you would on an ordinary diplomatic visit to an ally of ours. And take some spies to that inn yonder. I am likely being paranoid, but there is no harm in it.".
As he was reading in his room, his aide Cordelius slunk in. "Sire, you had every reason to be paranoid. Stabled at that inn are the horses of our enemies. I made the decision to investigate the palace with our spies, and found this". It was a document signed by queen Krishna, the Trakons, as well as the Cobios, the kingdom to the southeast Krishna promised to help him fight, and the barbarian chief of the north.
It outlined that Krishna would betray his forces in the southeast, and march on his kingdom. Capturing a number of island cities, starting rebellions in some of his provinces, and conquer a large swath of his land whilst his forces were distracted in the southeast. It stated the queen Krishna and the kingdom of Trabon would form a coalition to rule the entire region, with Trabon at the head. Taking tribute money and soldiers from the city-states and minor kingdoms, and security agreements and oaths of fealty from the larger kingdoms, all to queen Krishna.
She intended to betray him! All this time, she meant to stab him in the back. Not only had she become ugly, but she apparently had never loved him in the first place. How dare she?! He thought. Well, he certainly wasn't bedding, or marrying her now. But then, he thought, what if this can all be used to my advantage? He decided to send Cordelius to any artisan which would take orders at this time of night. He spent the rest of the night plotting on what to do with this information, and readied himself for the 2nd and last day in this city.
When they met again in the morning, he told her he had decided. They were to make love in an exclusive room in a brothel. One of those temporary, tent ones, in the market district, set up for the soldiers. The time was to be 1 hour before sunset. When she asked why there and then, he responded; "They are designed for love making, the location will make it all the more exciting. I need not some massive, kingly room and bed; merely you and something to lie on. As for the time, I want to start well before sundown, and finish well after it.". "Fair enough, I cant wait" she said, almost starting to sound like a girl again. She looked genuinely eager for it, at least to king Sarton.
He played along with the war plans and diplomacy, giving nothing away. She appeared clueless as to his discovery. They then departed to get ready for their night, queen Krishna with a longing glance back before leaving.
King Sarton approached the "tent of love". It was raised on a wooden platform to keep the lovers warm, and located so as to maximize foot traffic of commoners and Tarbon soldiers. He came to Krishna waiting at the entrance, disguised in cloak and commoner clothes, and said "shall we go in my lady?" offering his hand. She took it, and they entered.
Inside they found many half-dressed young women, all beautiful, but none could compare to Krishna in her prime. In all of them, either their bust wasn't as big, or it wasn't as perky, or their hips weren't as wide, or their face as gorgeous, or their rear as large, or it wasnt as firm, as Krishna's when she had the figure of a goddess. Still though, all were definitely attractive. Krishna looked mournfully at the young, firm body's, glancing at his eyes jealously. His eyes were looking straight forwards. "Hey handsome, its a shame your taken. Maybe if you want flesh a little less over-ripe than her" as the woman jutted high, firm orbs in Sarton's face. Krishna looked both incredibly angry at her, and incredibly depressed inside. "No thank you, she is all for tonight" he moved on.
The room where it would happen was draped in velvet and smooth, soft fabrics. Only a tent canvas separated them from the main street, but there was enough commotion on the other side to mostly obscure what they did, the brothel relied on that. The bed was small-ish, and while it had soft velvet sheets, it lacked any blanket oddly enough. There were bars around to hang from or do things on as well, if the situation called for them.
"Well Krishna, time for us to take these robes off". She was incredibly insecure. She hadn't been with a man for 16 years, and she had snuffed the lights out for that. But the hole in the ceiling of the tent could not be closed from the inside, letting sun light the whole room thoroughly. She made a small sound of insecurity, and said "okay, promise you're not going to be grossed out?" "No, of course not, why am I here?" "My body has... changed, since we last met. They say I was made by the gods, but it's hard to say the gods sculpted this" she gestured to her whole, thick form. "Come on, you know what you do with a man in bed" he guided her torso-robe off her shoulders. It came off, and she immediately covered her breasts with her crossed arms, raising them up in a self conscious look. Without the robe, he could see the long, wrinkled, largely deflated skin of an aged breast comming from her chest and leading down to what she guarded in her arms. He tried a different approach. He put one hand on her waist, oozing into fat but getting a grip. He strokes his other hand along her bingo-wing arm. "Well, you have changed some. But all can be changed back with hard work" he squeezed her arm flesh, not finding any muscle or resistance.
"Oh! For years, I have been too busy for exercising my body, there is simply too much work as both queen and mother. Besides which, Tarabon culture is clear that gymnasiums and exercises are only for men. Women are to stay home, and attend to their duties. A woman must be beautiful even without physical activity. And so, I sit, and I lay, and my muscles weaken, as my queenly position requires no movement or labour, yet gives me plentiful food. My arms, my legs, my hindquarter, they lose their strength, and now have become soft. Oh how I wish I was as fit and strong as when we first made love! My youthful muscles jumped from my body. I could jump! I could run! I once beat an adult man in a running competition.
Alas, with the loss of my youth, nothing has kept my muscles from atrophy. I can no longer run, or jump. Tell no one, but often I even need help getting off my bed." She whispered. "Now, my flesh hangs off my body, my once massive and muscular bum has both flattened and fallen onto my thighs. Everything is so loose and soft and weak! I dont want you to see me like this!" She turned around, giving him a view of a bum clearly flattened and probably sagging underneath her skirt. There were small hanging rolls of flesh on her back, and unseemly bulges of fat came from her armpits. She had truly been brought so low, and by so little time at that.
I was only 32, and someone in the crowd noticed a crease under my breast which hadn't been there before, and started discussing this revelation with others. Placing a twig and then even a small stick underneath them, I was both horrified and astounded that the commoner was right: there was a definite, noticeable crease. They had always been oh so large. And oh so... heavy. Now that weight worked against them. Their immense heft had started to pull them, winning out against my youthful perk. I knew they were massive, but I had just never thought anything could happen to them. What was I to do about this? This clearly was not perfection. The high, perkyness of a womans body has always been found beautiful, as opposed to the dull, limp, hanging-ness of an ugly crone's form. I became very anxious, and for a month, I sacrificed daily to the gods, trying to remedy this blemish on my perfection. It was said that I was divinely sculpted, and that my figure defied gravity by the will of the gods. So for a flaw to appear I thought that the gods had abandoned me. If only I knew how further downhill it would go from then.
It caused a stir, to put it mildly. That the queen sculpted by the gods could gain a flaw. There had prior been discussion of whether I could even age, or would simply stay goddess-like forever. Knowing now that their queen was prone to mortality shook their confidence in me.
After that, more flaws soon started suddenly appearing. One man remarked in the process of making love to me that my skin was dryer and not as smooth as people had said it to be. A maid had the insolence to pinch my belly, telling me "maybe you should lay off the second servings miss, this chub wasn't here a few yars ago." As though I could stop myself from getting softer when all I could do was eat and sit.
We have a festival every 5 years here, where all unmarried maidens under 25 summers race and then climb a rock face in teams of 5. The young men always turn out in droves, the women being only clad in short skirts and a wide cloth strap around the bust. Being queen and so famed in beauty, I was made an exception even though I was 33. I thought nothing of it when entering, but the reality was I hadn't moved like that in many years, and on the racetrack I found myself unable to keep up with the younger girls. I felt my whole body jiggle as I ran. I was breathing deeply and confused about why I was falling behind, all the other women easily streaked past me. As I sat panting, I grabbed my arms, my stomach, my thighs and bum, and squeezed each firmly. It was then that I realized that my whole body had become soft and weak. In all those years without exercise, my youthful muscles had been replaced by squishy, useless fat. My arms had excess flesh which hung down and swung about. My belly pouched a bit over my skirt, and there was a small but undeniable muffin top at my hips. My massive, firm buttocks had shrunk, and now jiggled with each step as I tried to catch up, lacking the youthful muscle the others had. They hadn't spent as many years devoid of girlish play and exercise, and their household labour combined with the youth of a woman's late teen's or early 20's had kept their bodies fit and strong. I was dragging my team down, and the whole crowd was noticed it.
The after event talk was heart-killing. "Hey did you see the queen? She was pretty much a dead weight. Did anybody else think she looked out of shape back there? "I saw up her skirt on the rock wall, and it looked like she was kind of flabby and even had cellulite in that skirt. Should she really still be participating in this festival? She's definitely past 25. I get she is the beautiful queen and all, but she's also clearly not a young maiden anymore". One maiden who had done badly as well came to me afterwards: "It's okay, I started falling behind a couple years ago. We just can't compete with those pretty young things. We already got our chance. Urgh, we're not as firm or fit as we used to be, but they'll be in the same boat in 6 or 7 years." I gave no response. I had left that festival in shame, rumours spreading for months about how I had become fat.
In a meeting with a minor king, he remarked that he was surprised that a woman of such renown beauty as myself possessed crow's feet wrinkles around her eyes. I immediately excused myself, saying I was ill and hadn't slept well. I was horrified that he was correct. Utterly shocked and disgusted that the face of a goddess-on-earth possessed faint lines like those that only an aged hag should have, scarring her gorgeous face. After that, I started secluding myself more and more, both from bedrooms and public appearances.
In secret, my young maids and I began rituals of bathing and water, purifying my nude form with holy streams and waterfalls. To remove the dryness from my skin and wash away these new flaws from the temple that was my body. But the gods did not answer, and for the first time in my life, I became jealous of another woman. My young maids had such smooth skin, such a young glow, and we all knew I was trying desperately to get what they had back.
"I suppose I should tell you about my children. When I realized I was 34 and gaining these small flaws, I thought I should bear some children, to secure alliances and make an heir while my reputation was still as high as it was. In Tarbon, every good mother must nurse and care for her children entirely by herself, no matter her condition or station, even for a queen like myself. And for generations, some noble women have complained of the damage and loss of beauty suffered by their bodies for not being able to use wet nurses and servants like the women in other kingdoms. But even after the minor flaws I had acquired, I thought it impossible my body could be ruined like they spoke of. That was only for normal women, not a queen made by the gods such as I. I had my first child at 35 years of age, a beautiful baby boy, Timotheus. My breasts didn't entiely have their round shape anymore, having lengthened a bit, and hanging slightly udder-like from my chest. I told myself they were just like that because I was nursing mother, that they would change back when they weren't needed for suckling anymore.
Young Timotheus kept me up night and day, always either feeding or screaming, giving me no rest while I tried to attend to the heavy burden of running a kingdom. What I realize now had up till then been a slow fading of the shine that was my looks, suddenly accelerated to the final setting of the sun that was my beauty. Thinking only of politics, I became pregnant only some months after giving birth. I didn't worry myself, my body had never stopped maternity so it still needed to produce milk. That was why my body hadn't gone back to normal.
I birthed Cladius, and then at 37 I had gorgeous little Symona. I had been near-permanently pregnant at this point, and my body permanently "un-goddess-like"."
He grabbed her fleshy arms gently, She raised them to their high place of old, and smiled anxiously at him, unsure. "Okay,"
The breasts which supposedly could hold up Tarbon and half the sky on their own, now hung limply down their owner's chest. "Oh gods, Krishna I'm... when did this happen?"
"Oh Krishna, all women undergo motherhood. Some men find their wives even more beautiful with the scars of bearing their own children." He stared at the once-pride of Tarbon in horror.
"You are still attracted to me? Right?" It did make sense now. He imagined all the size and mass of their massive spherical forms stretching downwards, emptying out, and he could see that resulting in the sad udders he saw before him. He was filled with a mixture of disgust, pity, and a minor fascination that such glorious womanly spheres could become such aged wrecks in so few years. When he saw her immense, gravity-defying orbs, he never knew how fragile such perfection had been, to be so easily drained and ruined by the hungry suckling of a few babies.
"Oh, that uh, diplomatic meeting all those years ago was heavenly. When I think about, I can still feel it tingling in these" she rubbed her brown nipples like she was a teenage girl. "Who says we can't do it like we did all those years ago? I'm just as sensitive.
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She was holding it out, desperate. "Please! Please take it!" He grimaced as it came towards his mouth. His memory flashed back; big, milky smooth, round, pink-tipped. Now; deflated, skin coarse, brown and spotted skin; flatly stretching along her arm towards his face.
Just at that moment
She lay on the side of her hips, her breasts dangling to the floor, the nipples scraping it. Her belly protruded a three soft rolls of flab, and the fatty flesh of her thighs and hips flattened and bulged where she pressed against the floor. She picked up one hanging teet from the floor, started heaving herself up with the other hand, belly jiggling. "Ugh, uhhh. C'mon" "The queen sculpted by the gods has become a hag. What a shame. The gods giveth, and the gods taketh." "How is such a weak, sagging, flabby woman to lead a coalition of kingdoms? Or an army? She can't even keep her own bosom or buttocks up. She labours just to pick her gelatinous form and aged udders off the ground." "No, no, I can still lead you!" He gripped her right udder, squeezed it while dragging it up to where it had been, elicting a sharp moan of pleasure from her. )Myb He squeezed and prodded it so it was in the same position, and shape as it was on the statue. The only difference was now it was deflated, and pointed lower,( He dropped it and it fell with a flop of emptiness, hanging downwards pitifully. She stared at it, and began to cry. "I-I... I WAS BEAUUUTIFUL! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME!". He repeated this process of dragging her teat up and dropping it down, comparing her with the statue at his side. Contrasting the naked, heavenly form of her youthful beauty, and the hag time had made her into, as she alternated between involuntary moans of pleasure, and sobbing at the situation. "DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE? AM I NOT SCULPTED BY THE GODS!?" She shouted to her subjects in desperation. The people were simply disgusted at this entire display. "What happened to our queen?"
He raised his voice to be heard above the crowd. "This is humiliating. I'm sorry queen Krishna, but me and the kingdom of cannot be associated with this. Your reputation might be destroyed, but I have a social standing to uphold."
"Please? Anyone? Its been years, more than a decade!"
Naked in a public cage, compared to a statue of young her, "we better find a man soon, don't want to look like that"
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