Femboy Prince Corrupts His New Toy

This was a commission I received recently! My very first, so I hope you all like it!

Disclaimer as usual for noncon/reluctance in this story. This is purely fantasy and I do not condone any forms of force, blackmail, coercion, or assault in real life. Please ask consent, please don't be weird, and please be respectful of everyone's autonomy.

This is a bit of a deviation from the norm. I'll give you all a break from the 'uglier' types I usually use in my stories lol. This is a femboy top story about a knight who's seduced under his service to him.

There's a good bit of build up and exposition here, so apologies if you wanted the sex to happen right away!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

INTRO

In the kingdom of Loyce, there sits a proud expansive empire that has just ushered in an era of peace, after a long standing decade of gruesome war.

This kingdom, one of many, is considered the most luxurious in the land. From its clean cobblestone streets, its verdant green forests and hills, its spotless blue skies, and to its pristine architecture. Tudor housing, black tiled roofs, aqueducts and plumbing, white marble and stone, so that even the poorest live more clean than most other kingdoms.

The castle at the very center of the large kingdom was a tall, spiring, white structure that could be seen for miles and miles. A beacon of wealth and artistry. Sporting the colors of the country itself, royal white and sky blue.

It is run by the royal family, a vast and powerful line. The patriarch and monarch being the one King Leon. Leon's line was from a long history of war and terror, and as such, held himself above his skeletons as the comparatively 'gentler' and more 'noble' of his family. Heroic and honorable on the battlefield, but quite the barbaric degenerate in his private life. He took a queen from another kingdom, and together they were a perfect pair. Despite the king obsessing over him and his family's image, word spread quickly about how almost every night you could hear the castle quake with the king and queen's mating dance. This earned the king a disgusting but earned title of King Leon the Fertile. For him and his queen sired over nine children together.

Despite the snickering and rumor of the peasants and nobles, the royal family was held in high regard. King Leon had transformed a kingdom once run by barbarians and warlords, into a beacon of art, creativity, honor, and class. He was a redemption story parents would tell their kids for all time, that anybody could rise to the top.

As such, the royal family values strength and honor above all else. Of course, over the years, this is a facade. Only the rich, powerful, and lucky are able to earn spots among the rich nobles and royal lines. One would be lucky to even wipe the toilets of the castle's nobles. This created an oppressive and dangerous rat race within the kingdom.

A land such as this has no shortage of class disputes. Ingrained into everyone since birth is the need to rise to the top, to serve the royal family, and to rid themselves of poverty. The easiest way to do this... sign up for the military, study and train hard, and become a knight. If you're lucky you'll be selected to prove yourself by taking on the occasional hive of monsters or bandits. Now that the war was over, the wait list to becoming a knight was longer than ever before. Most believed that it was likely the cushiest position a peasant could ever receive.

This brings us to Milo. A scrappier man, young and naive. He stands about 5'9, black messy hair that hangs a bit. Milo is trying to become a knight errant, proving his valor and service to the royal family, hoping to lift his poor parents and sister out of poverty and into a more lavish style of living. He trained every day, turning himself into a shy and skinny twig into a relatively more fit man, worthy of holding a sword. By no means was Milo a giant though, in fact most of him was painfully average. 160 lbs total, a lightly toned and fit body, but nothing compared to the other knights that would be batting against him in the trials. It didn't help that the boyish youth and nativity still lingered across his face even at the age of 22.

That look would never leave him. That look of hope, and masculine pride. Since he was a child, he wanted to be a knight, he wanted to serve the royal line, and prove himself to this country that he was worthy of notice.

...And he was... just not how he'd hoped...

CHAPTER 1

Milo had arrived at the training yard, after two long years of training and trial, he would perform acts of valor and be tested in strength and intelligence, all in front of the royal family. If anybody stood out, they could become one of the royal's personal guards.

Milo stood about a head shorter than every other person there. Since he first joined as a knave, he was constantly ridiculed and poked at for his height and frame. This would be the day he would prove all of them wrong.

As the disinterested royal family, the King, the Queen, their daughters and sons, watched with lidded eyes at the boring performances before them. Watching above in a wooden platform, shaded from the harsh sun. The King insisted they be there to keep appearances up, even though he himself didn't want to be. Milo could read their expressions, and swallowed his nerves as he was brought before them.

Milo and his bitter rival, Blythe, were to duel with wood swords in the middle of a circular pit.

Blythe sneered as he saw Milo approach, both shirtless. Milo was ashamed to admit that Blythe looked far bigger and brutish than he did. Everyone already assuming the match was over before it started. Milo, though blunt and simple, was tactical, and knew where all of Blythe's weaknesses were. In fact there was never a better match up.

The two stood, glaring at each other.

King Leon didn't bother to stand.

"STATE YOUR NAMES!" He boomed.

"Blythe Kirkland my King!"

"Milo Waystone my King!"

"MILO! BLYTHE! I WISH TO HAVE AN HONORABLE DUEL! NO DISHONORABLE ACTS! NO FARCES! NO DIRT IN THE EYES! AM I UNDERSTOOD!" He yelled... for the 17th time today.

"YES MY KING!"

"YES MY KING!"

They brayed and snorted at each other as they held their swords at each other. Milo didn't let anger consume him, all the bullying, the names, the beatings, it all took a backseat. This was destiny, he would win this.

Blythe, sword held at his side, sprinted towards Milo. Milo didn't react, holding firm against the charging bull that towered over him. Drool flying from his snarling mouth as he swung savagely against Milo.

As soon as the sword connected, everyone rolled their eyes, waiting for the inevitable beating the poor lad was about to take by this brute... instead...

The crowd watched in awe, as with one arm Milo deflected his wooden blade, parrying it far from him.

Milo went low like a cat, swung his heel in a circle and knocked Blythe on his ass.

With 0 hesitation, Milo slammed his boot onto Blythe's sword hand, took the blunt pommel of his dummy sword and brought it down into the ridge of Blythe's nose, instantly breaking it. Just as Blythe cried out in pain, Milo brought it down again and knocked him out clean!

The battle was decided in ten seconds.

The whole company stood in silence and awe, the royals watched with eyes wide.

Milo stepped away confidently, throwing his sword on the ground and kneeling before his king before the match was even called.

King Leon... was thoroughly impressed, as was his family. One of the princes instantly stood and began to clap. The knights and knaves gave an ovation as well. Milo couldn't help but smile under his hung head.

The cliques of those who bullied him, mocked him, and sneered at him, couldn't help but clap as well.

"MILO WAYSTONE IS IT?" The King stood.

"YES MY KING!"

"RAISE YOUR HEAD WITH PRIDE! YOU HAVE PASSED THIS TRIAL WITH STRENGTH, HONOR, AND BRUTAL EFFICIENCY! THERE IS NO QUESTION!"

"THANK YOU MY KING!!" Milo almost cried.

"WAIT IN THE BARRACKS FOR YOUR NEXT TRIAL!"

"YES MY KING!" Milo sniffed.

He stood and had to compose himself as he calmly walked to the barracks alongside the other winners. The winners raising their eyebrows in awe as they saw him of all people sit with them.

Milo wanted to burst out in a fit of giddy laughter, but had to contain it, for the trials had only begun.

---

By the end of the day, Milo quickly realized that prioritizing combat efficiency above all else was a serious mistake.

He had essentially flopped every single other trial that followed after, that ego and pride was shredded rather quickly. Though he would never forget the compliments of the king, that would mean nothing if he didn't pass every other rest.

He returned home that night, stress across his face, to his loving parents in the outskirts of town. His mother and father were herbalists and doctors, who would help with small and affordable remedies to the poor and needy.

When he walked back in, his mother could already sense he wasn't having a great day.

"So... how did it go?"

"It... uh... went well... at first... then they made me answer a bunch of scenario questions, and I answered honestly... which I think was a mistake. Then they made us do recitations of the God's prayers which I didn't study... then they made us recite the honor codes... which I forgot... and then they made us ride horses... and we couldn't afford horses so..."

"So it didn't go well?"

"No I don't think so..."

"Well there's always next year sweetie."

"Yeah..."

His mother pouted, hating to see her son like this.

"I'm, uh, making brownies... if you want some..."

"...Were they to celebrate..."

"...Yes..."

Milo gave a half smile.

"Your father is out back still, but if he was here he'd tell you there's victory in defeat or something along those lines, so..."

"It's the thought that counts Mother, thank you." Milo chuckled.

He went in and gave his Mom a hug. He was just above her now, her boy had grown so much, and her and her husband were so proud of him for training as hard as he did.

The family ate together happily, enjoying brownies before dinner, rich and moist as always. Never could anyone make them better than Milo's mother.

----

The next day Milo woke from a three hour rest, awake all night, stressed beyond comparison. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he made it.

He put his hands together that very morning, awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I am begging. Please, whoever is listening, whatever God, or spirit, or whatever, even a demon maybe, just please please please please PLEASE give me a chance!" He said under his breath, "I'll do anything. I'll be on the frontlines, I'll shine the throne, I'll play marching drums, wherever they want me..."

He begged the divine for about ten minutes before giving up. Giving a deep and futile sigh as he got out of bed.

He ate porridge in a wooden bowl, imagining it as fine berries and cream instead. Fantasizing over the distant dream of knighthood.

After he finished he went out behind the house to the forest to do sword swings, taking his father's broadsword and practicing his forms. Doing his regular training in preparation for next year.

After about an hour, he walked back home, he saw his father standing out in the yard, and rushed to meet his son halfway.

"Milo! Milo! Come quick!"

Milo looked in confusion, he'd never seen his Dad so excited.

"What?"

"Just- come on! Come with me!"

His Dad was giddy, he sprinted faster than he'd ever seen before. Milo jogged behind.

When they came to the front of the house, Milo's jaw dropped.

Standing there was a royal envoy. Dressed in blue and white stripes, a fancy feathered cap upon his head, striding a black steed with a company of royal knights. The envoy was an older man, wrinkly slightly, and oozing with pride and prejudice.

His mother was chatting with the envoy, he looked to be disinterested in the yammerings of a peasant, and fixed his gaze to Milo.

"Ah! I see we've found him." He smiled unenthusiastically, "Just the man I was hoping to see..."

His voice was reedy and nasally, snooty even, radiating with contempt for this poor housing he was forced to arrive at.

"Y-yes sir!" Milo stammered, slamming to a knee before him.

"You may rise." He waved a hand, satisfied with Milo's submission.

"What news do you bring my lord? I wasn't sure if my results were-"

"Come." He simply said, turning his horse around, "The prince wishes to see you..."

"The... the prince?!" Milo squeaked.

"The same. Come now. He doesn't like to be kept waiting..."

A knight pulled a horse to him, Milo quickly hopped on uneasily, and let the horse carry him behind their company. He didn't even have time to say bye to his parents. He turned to them and waved, nervous and excited at the same time.

His father was crying and his mother had her hands over her face, weeping with joy.

Milo turned, and couldn't help but chuckle, his prayers were actually heard...

"Uh... uhm... excuse me, m-my lord..." Milo stammered, lingering behind the envoy.

"Myes." He turned slightly, patience thin for this peasant.

"I... uhm... which prince are we... what... did I...?"

"Prince Alma wishes to speak with you. He's very impressed with your performance at the trial. He wishes to take a look at you himself." He said.

"O-oh I see! That's- what an honor!"

"You may tell him yourself. We are to escort you to his chambers."

Milo went red in the face. A private audience with the prince?! Holy shit!

Prince Alma was a man with some rumors around him certainly, but that didn't matter to Milo at the moment, he was getting to meet royalty.

He would not care to admit that at the back of his head he had wished for different company however. Prince Alma was... the most like his father we'll say. Oftentimes going to brothels and spending time in taverns, he was known as the most debaucherous prince. Quite a womanizer too as rumor would have it. Strangely enough he had denied most marriage proposals from other kingdoms though.

Overtime, Milo began to overthink the situation as he was escorted through the city streets towards the looming palace. While the perks would be incredible... thoughts of having to privately escort the prince to all manner of seedy dens began to draw a grimace across his face. Would he have to protect the prince each time he got in a bar fight?

Milo's enthusiasm was starting to be replaced with anxiety. He did say that he'd take any position though... as long as his family would be taken care of, he could suck it up. Plus it would be nowhere near as risky as getting assigned to the front lines. His hero fantasies would be dashed however.

---

As they all clopped through the street, Milo was met with stares of admiration from poor and rich alike as he was openly escorted to the palace. Perhaps he could grow used to this after all.

The massive iron gates were lifted at the sway of the envoy's hand, opening him to the large palace courtyard, packed with peacocks and exotic birds that were well fed and happy. Fountains and ponds at every turn, with clear water full of fish.

It was massive.

The wooden gates to the palace loomed over them as they dropped from their horses, Milo struggling to get off his, met with a blank stare from the company.

Milo nervously chuckled as he turned to face them, bright red.

The company rolled their eyes and brought him around a side entrance.

The envoy waved away the knights to return to their duty, and brought him through the back kitchen. Even the storehouse and kitchen were far more impressive than anything he'd ever seen, stocked with food, and ceilings so high.

He was led up several dark corridors and spiraling stairs. The halls are carved out of thick white stone, and decorated with animal heads, rich paintings, plants, and carpets. Stained glass lining small interior yards and chapels.

He was in awe, he barely had time to take it in by the time they arrived at a massive hallway.

The envoy stopped at a set of thick wooden doors, far taller than him.

"Oh... are we here?"

"Myes. I shall introduce you, say nothing until you are spoken to. Greet the prince with a deep bow, heel out first, arm out at your side like so..."

The envoy gestured in front of him. Milo impressively copied him, much to the envoy's relief.

"Onward then."

He knocked on the door.

"Come in." A voice called from inside, it was light and ethereal even through the thick doors.

The envoy opened the door for Milo, ushering him inside.

Milo was in shock. To the left was a set of wide steps that elevated the floor by a mere foot, where a massive pink silken bed sat. Two bedside tables either side of it, with a private bathtub right on the edge of the elevated floor. Wooden mahogany railings separated it from the rest of the room.

The wall directly across from him was lined with curved triangular windows, giving an awe dropping look over the city and vast forests. A glass door to the balcony directly in the center.

To his right were massive bookshelves that went to the tall ceiling. Every inch of them was filled with multicolored bindings, two ornate chairs sitting before them, with a fireplace next to it.

The floors were covered in animal skin rugs and ornate carpets from eastern lands. The walls were decorated with fancy candles and paintings. A black iron chandelier hung from the ceiling.

The walls were made of a darker brown stone that was cold to the touch, most of it covered in fabric or decoration.

In front of him was the prince, lying with his legs crossed while he read a book. He was calmly lounging on a long couch, fancy and pink, cushy as well.

Most of the time he had seen the prince, his hair was tightly wrapped in a bun, exposing his serious face. Usually dawned in a white suit with gold shoulder pauldrons and various honors across his chest. Bright blue dress pants and black shoes.

This was different however. He had never ever seen the prince like this before. His long, slender, and hairless legs were crossed over one another, leading all the way up to a pink silk robe that cut off just halfway down his thighs. However, since he was lying down, it exposed his sheen legs that went up to a massive set of hips that clashed with his slim figure.

His hands were long and delicate, slender and slow as they turned the page of his book. His nails were well manicured and long. His arms were long as well and equally hairless as the rest of his body, no muscle on his frame but no bone shown either, completely smooth and soft all over.

His eyes were darker colored compared to his bone white skin, heavy and lidded, looking down at his book. His lips were thick and wide, ample, plush and firm at the same time, a delightful shade of pink that fit his creamy complexion. It almost looked as if he was constantly in a pout, the way those lips stood out.

His nose was turned up just ever so slightly, with a smooth sloped ridge. His eyebrows were plucked and well maintained, thin and angled, a shade of light brown. His hair was longer than expected, reaching down to his chest and swept to one side, covering one of his eyes, he kept having to tuck it behind his ear. It was just as silky and sheen as his clothes and linens, perfectly straight and well kept. Unlike Milo's hair, feathery but also messy and shaggy.

Those terrifying brown eyes slowly lifted from the page of his book and drifted over to Milo and the envoy.

"Milo Waystone, as you requested sire."

Milo stammered and went into the bow, struggling slightly as he was stabbed through the soul by the prince's gaze.

He didn't expect the prince to be so... flamboyantly present... in his privacy. The prince had caught him staring to be certain.