Princess Bimbo Bubblegum

The late afternoon light filtered through the high arched windows of the eastern wing, casting long geometric patterns across the polished candy floors that had long since been cleared of the day's petitioners. Most of the staff had already withdrawn to the lower kitchens or the outer gardens, leaving the upper corridors quiet except for the distant, rhythmic ticking of the great clock in the hall. You had been summoned earlier for a private discussion regarding the northern border patrols, the sort of meeting that usually concluded well before dusk, yet the princess had asked that you remain available in the adjacent sitting room until she finished a brief inspection of her private laboratory.

*The door to her chambers stood ajar by no more than a finger's width. From within came a steady, wet percussion that did not match the sound of any apparatus you had ever heard in her workshops. Curious, you stepped closer and set your palm against the carved frame, easing the door open just enough to see past the heavy curtain that normally screened the room from the corridor.

Princess Bubblegum stood with her back to the entrance, bare feet planted wide on the thick rug. The floor-length gown and ballet flats had been discarded over a chair. In their place she wore a pink dress cut so low that the fabric barely clung above her nipples, the hem ending high on her thighs, paired with purple platform boots that added several inches to her already considerable height. Her magenta hair had been combed forward so the bangs obscured her eyes, and thick blue lipstick made her mouth look fuller than usual. Jewelry glinted at her wrists and throat. She was bent sharply at the waist, hands braced on her knees, and she was throwing her hips backward in a deliberate, practiced rhythm.

Each sharp snap of her pelvis sent the full weight of her ass colliding with a loud, sticky smack that carried farther than it should have. The cheeks, heavy and gelatinous, compressed and then sprang apart again, drawing thin, glistening strands of pink bubblegum between them that stretched and snapped with every repetition. The sound was unmistakable once you recognized it: soft flesh meeting soft flesh, amplified by the candy composition of her body. Her huge breasts swung forward with the motion, the low neckline offering almost no support, and the thick thighs trembled visibly under the impact. She watched herself in the tall mirror opposite the bed, adjusting the arch of her back and the angle of her hips with focused precision even as her expression stayed vacant.

Again. Harder this time. Make it bounce right. Nobody else can do it like this. Empty. Just the slap and the pull. Nothing else matters right now.

You remained in the doorway for several seconds before she registered the shift in light. Her hips stilled mid-motion. The sticky strands between her cheeks slowly contracted and then broke. She straightened with deliberate slowness, one hand rising to push the bangs aside just enough that her black eyes could find you over her shoulder. The blue lipstick caught the light as her lips parted.

She did not cover herself. Instead she turned fully, the motion making her breasts shift and settle heavily against the straining fabric of the dress. The platform boots clicked once against the floor as she took a single step toward the door, then stopped. Her posture changed entirely: shoulders relaxed, spine curved, one hip cocked so the full curve of her ass remained visible in the mirror behind her. The vacant look remained, though a faint heat colored the light pink skin across her collarbones.

Caught. They saw. Door was open. They heard the smacks. Sticky strings still there if they look. Don't think. Just... show them. They came all the way up here. Might as well let them see what the princess looks like when she practices.

She lifted both hands and cupped the undersides of her breasts, lifting them slightly so the low neckline slipped lower still. The weight filled her palms. She walked the remaining distance with an exaggerated sway, stopping close enough that the soft heat of her body reached you. When she spoke, the precise diction she used in council was gone, replaced by a slower, breathier delivery.

"You weren't supposed to be back yet. I was just... working on something. Private practice. My ass makes so much noise when I throw it. Bubblegum sticks together every time. See?"

She turned halfway again and gave a single, controlled bounce of her hips. The cheeks clapped once more, louder at this range, and fresh pink strands pulled taut between them before sagging under their own weight. She stayed bent just long enough for the strings to catch the light, then straightened and stepped in until her chest pressed lightly against you. The soft, heavy warmth of her breasts settled against your torso, the thin fabric of the dress doing nothing to mute the contact. One of her long blue nails traced a slow line down the front of your clothing while she kept her eyes on yours, the vacant expression unbroken.

They're warm. They're right here. Smother them a little. They already heard everything. Might as well let them feel it too. No thinking. Just this.

Her other hand settled on your shoulder, guiding you a fraction closer without force. The scent of sugar and the faint chemical tang of her lipstick mixed in the narrow space between you. She held the contact, letting the full weight of her chest rest where it had settled, and waited to see whether you would step back or remain exactly where the open door and the sound of her practice had placed you.