For Edward Frenkel, master thief, the time had finally arrived. He stood in the large, intimidating shadow cast by the castle, packing up his camp and hiding it in a nearby bush. Having been camping here all day, Edward was glad to be moving on. The dull scenery was really starting to drag. Dusk was fast approaching, which is precisely what he was waiting for to begin the biggest heist in his life thus far.

Weeks earlier, he had been pulled aside by a hooded woman at the thief's guild in Nelrand as he was chugging flagons of ale with his thieving buddies, celebrating the latest promotion of one of the newer, promising members. She had come seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him away, his friends jeering at how easily she removed him.

At a much quieter table in the guild, his woman who Edward had never met before asked him a question “Do you know of the witch Alice Bramble?”

In response, Edward's eyes had widened with recognition at the utterance of that name “Alice Bramble who inhabits a castle on border of the eastern wildlands? The one who has held a bounty of over ten thousand gold for well over two years? Yes, I know of her, how could I not?”

Smiling from the shade of her hood, the mysterious woman continued “Good, that makes things easier. What I want from you is to steal something in her possession, something I desire.”

Hearing such a request, a request that would likely end in his death if he failed and great fame within the guild if he pulled it off, there was only one thing that Edward could say “How much are you willing to pay?” Studying her, he took a drink of ale.

“A quarter of her bounty, two and a half thousand gold.”

Almost spitting out the mouthful of liquid, he choked it down his throat “Two and a half thousand? And I just have to steal something, no witch killing involved?”

Still smiling, the woman nodded “Indeed. Are you interested, or should I ask among the more... aspirational members of your group?” She nodded to one member in particular, the young woman at the centre of the celebrations. Vennis. Since joining the guild months before, her skill and cunning had her passing through the ranks rapidly, drawing away almost all of the attention on Edward.

“No. Don't do that” Edward insisted, clenching his flagon tightly “I am very interested, Miss...?”

“Terry. You can call me Miss Terry” She chuckled lightly, amused at the obvious alias she had given “We've no need for introductions, I know everything I need to know about you, Mister Frenkel and you know everything I want you to know about me.”

“But I know nothing about you.”

“Exactly.”

A silence elapsed. Edward considered this 'Miss Terry'. He didn't trust her, not even a little bit. But a job like this, a job that paid so well and posed such a difficult challenge, was a job that would catapult, no, trebuchet him back into the limelight. “I'll do it. Give me the details.”

“Excellent, Mister Frenkel, I am happy to hear it” Relaxing in her chair, Miss Terry pulled down her hood and displayed her long, straight brown hair. Judging by how she held herself, this woman was upper class. Interesting that she would stoop to visiting a guild of individuals who made a career viewing her kind as prey. She pulled a single sheet of parchment from inside her robes, brandishing it to her new thief ally.

On the piece of parchment was a highly detailed sketch of an amulet. Parts of the amulet were labelled with words, distinguishing what the colour of the item would be in reality. “This is what I seek. An old family heirloom, stolen by the witch during her stay in Nelrand long ago, before her existence became known to the authorities. I have no idea why she desired it: perhaps it has magical properties, perhaps she wanted to piss off my family. Whatever her reasoning was, I want it back and the only way I can pull that off is to hire a witch-hunter or a thief. In this situation, a thief is far less expensive with a far higher chance of success.”

Taking in all of this information, Edward nodded. “It'll be tough, but I think I can pull it off. Regular humans do not stand a chance against such a powerful sorcerer, but so long as I go unnoticed there'll be no problems. Though, you will have to give me time to prepare, study diagrams of the castle in historical records, find out what kind of protection she'll have, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Sounds good to me, Mister Frenkel. You can keep the drawing of the amulet to assist you in finding it. Once you return successful, visit the Duke's keep and ask for me by my pseudonym.” Miss Terry pulled her hood, signalling her desire to leave and stuck out her gloved hand “Thank you for your service.”

Shaking her hand, Edward grinned “It's a pleasure, Miss Terry.”

Walking away, Edward noticed she had left a couple coins on the table “Have a drink on me, Mister Frenkel” She called back.

Pocketing the coins, Edward returned to his group looking hopeful. Vennis noticed. “Hey, what's up with you? That strange lady give you some suck?”

A couple of giggles rose from the rabble, all of which landed somewhere on the spectrum of tipsy to outright drunk. “None of your concern, I'm afraid. A private matter.”

“Whatever” The young woman with short black hair shook her head dismissively and went back to her drink.

Edward remembered the day fondly as he gazed upon the castle. It marked the turn of the tide. Vennis, despite feeling jealously for the spotlight she had stolen, was the one who made him seek newfound glory, made him want to surpass his younger counterpart and revitalised his dream of becoming a legendary thief. He couldn't wait to shove his victory in her face.

Ready and equipped for the mission ahead, Edward began walking towards the castle. In the setting light of the sun, any guard patrols from the castle wouldn't be able to see him before he saw them and had chance to hide. Plus, by the time he arrived only the moon would light the land, decreasing his chances of being spotted further. Even with the forces that opposed him, Edward felt confident.

Unbeknownst to the thief, just as he had been watching the castle, a figure watched him from afar, moving to follow in his footsteps as he marched and observed his every move.

Inside the castle, Edward moved with the utmost silence. Having spent almost every hour of the previous week researching any information regarding this castle and the general design, as most of the castles in existence had been created by various architects, complete with their own personal touch inserted into the blueprints. This particular design of castle was awash with secret passages running throughout the giant structure. He was in the process of crawling through a rather tight tunnel. So far, he hadn't actually left the many passages that ran through the construction, avoiding the rooms at all costs.

The reason that Edward was avoiding the rooms wasn't because he was scared of being caught, it was because he was scared of WHAT might catch him. Though thick, the stone walls were far from soundproof and the voices he heard were of a distinctive race. Orcs. Orc women to be precise. Their loud, brutish voices could be recognised from sound alone, their vocabulary specifically learnt as a method of dominating others, as it was an orc's duty to do.

Hell, male orcs would have been preferable. A male orc was stronger to be sure, but female orcs possessed their own advantages. Evolution had seen fit to gift orc women with the most foul odour of all races, as orcs valued stink and sought it out when choosing a mate. It was often that the greatest orc warrior chose the stinkiest orc as his bride. This handy trait made orc women some of the most effective torturers in the world by virtue of their horrendously stinky feet alone, the most pungent part of their already smelly bodies.

Whenever he heard them, Edward slowed down, minimising any noise he made from movement and breathing. Though it was incredibly unlikely that the sounds he made would be heard by the orcs wandering the halls. Judging by the idle conversations they were having, these guards were far too lenient because of the low amount of intruders the castle received.

During his research into the layout of the castle, Edward had done research into the adversaries that he might run into, among which were orcs. Which is why he knew so much about their nature and how being stinky is a large part of their culture and genes. In the tight passage, thinking about what he had learned about orc women made him almost turn back, run away and admit defeat. But no, Edward held the image of Vennis in his mind, concentrating his courage to push forwards.

Finally, coming to a passage exit, the thief breathed a sigh of relief. He located the switch in advance before closing his eyes and relying on his other senses. He received... conflicted results. There was no sound on the other side, no talking, no footsteps, no apparent breathing. However, the faint stale smell present inside the castle's walls seemed stronger in this section of the passage. This was the shortest route to the witch's treasure room, so Edward decided that using this room as his infiltration point was his best bet.

Opening up the exit, Edward regretted this decision immediately. He plunged head first into the room and was assaulted by a strong, stale musk that filled the entire room. At first he was thankful that he landed on something soft rather than the hard stone floor, yet upon realising exactly what he landed on, the disgusted Edward leapt to his feet, ignoring the dizziness gained from breathing in the 'air' present in this room. A pile of socks. Dirty socks. From the potency of the smell, it appeared that these socks were owned by orc girls. Looking around the rest of the room, he discovered that he had fallen into some kind of footwear storage room for the orcs here: several sock piles had gathered here and there, an array of stained socks hung from the ceiling like some form of abhorrent fruit, and what looked like hundreds of pairs of boots were messily strewn about the room. It was so full of orc foot stench that the room appeared slightly foggy, the torches on the wall seemed dimmer somehow, as if the odour subdued the flames.

“Urrrggh. Disgusting!” Edward couldn't help himself but shout as revulsion filled him. Not a good idea.

“Did someone just yell?” A gruff voice questioned from outside of the room.

“It sounded like it came from the unused storage room!”

Unused? So they possess footwear that smells worse than this? Inconceivable! Edward was left amazed that what he was currently experiencing wasn't the limit of their odorous ways. But he rapidly returned to his senses, hearing those who had spoken approaching with haste. He threw himself behind a sock pile to hide, landing with his face practically inside a pair of armoured boots. As the door swung open, letting even more oppressed light into the room, Edward found himself trying his utmost to stomach the foul aroma flowing out the boot's opening, not wanting to make a sound or move around lest they catch him.

In the doorway, a pair of orcs searched the room without fully entering, watching for any suspected intruders. After a couple of tense, torturous minutes for the concealed thief, they gave up. “Must have imagined it.” The second orc grunted in response, triggering the one holding the door to close it.

In order to be safe, Edward remained in position until he was sure that they weren't tricking him, fighting off the urge to gag, then rose to a standing position. The way he scrabbled him hands over the wall probably wasn't the best way to open the secret door without attracting attention, but he was more concerned with escaping the hell-hole he had ended up in. Activating the switch, the door opened up and the desperate intruder climbed inside. Even with the door shutting behind him, the smell from the room had been strong enough to taint the passage itself, a weakened form of the same scent following him for a good while as he continued traversing the passage.

Reaching the second closest exit to the target from the passage, Edward took a deep breath, gathered that was left of his bravery and opened it up, praying that the outcome would be different. A smile found itself on his face as he found that he had come out of the passage into a regular room. Well, regular as far as a room in a castle could be. It was minimally decorated, a fireplace and some furniture was all that there was in the room.

Edward wasted no time discreetly exiting the room. Visualising a map in his mind, he headed towards where he had deemed the treasure room to be. Hours spent viewing the blueprints of the castle had caused this decision. It made the most sense, being on one of the higher floors in a more spacious room, one with only a single way in and out. Doubtless the witch knew of the passages, so there was no chance that it would be in any of the rooms where the passages had exits or the rooms that neighboured such rooms. Moving through the corridors with great speed and stealth, Edward thought the lack of guards strange. As he had travelled through the passages, he had heard plenty of people patrolling. Why was there none up here?

Self doubt entered the mind of the thief. He questioned his thought process even with the door he sought in sight, creeping towards it slowly. The door was made of a dark thick wood. Rather plain looking indeed, seemingly just another room in the castle. Through that door, the room beyond was anything but an ordinary room. It was bigger than the other rooms and completely devoid of furniture and decoration. Instead it was a store room for one thing: treasure. Golden ornaments, jewels the size of infants, priceless scrolls, all with gold coins filling in the gaps. Screw the bounty on Alice Bramble's head, this is where the real money was. It was difficult to control his greed as his eyes drank in the sight before him.

“Keep it together Edward” The thief told himself, keeping focussed “You're only here for one thing.” Reaching into his pocket, Edward pulled out the sketch that Miss Terry had given him. Once he had a good idea in his head, Edward started searching for the amulet. It didn't take long to find it.

Draped around the neck of a golden mannequin, was the amulet. A fine silver chain was what it hung by, supporting the impressive jewel. The flawless diamond was huge, embedded into a silver plate and surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds. This object must have been worth far more than Edward was getting paid to retrieve it. However, he was a man of his word, and the thought of selling it off only crossed his mind for a moment. Plus, he wouldn't gain any reputation like he would if he finished the job. After earning plenty of money in his years of thieving, reputation had now become the priority. Taking the amulet in his hands, it turned out to be lighter than he thought. The massive jewel just looked so weighty. Edward found himself whistle in appreciation without meaning to as he appraised the item, no wonder the mysterious noblewoman wanted this so badly. Pocketing the amulet (and a few of the smaller, lighter treasures) Edward headed for the door, opening it cautiously.

However, it didn't matter how cautiously he opened the door, they were ready for him. Looking through the gap he created, Edward came face to face with a grinning green individual. He closed the door again slowly, pretending she wasn't there, pretending that the door would stop her apprehending him. “Oh no, the little thief has closed the door! Whatever will I do?” The orc woman humoured him from behind the door, drawing laughter from what sounded like several other orcs. Edward cursed, they had him.

Seconds later, the door burst open. Into the treasure room walked multiple orc girls. Orcs were physically different in more than a few ways. They were naturally tall and naturally strong. The females of the species shared these differences. Clad in armour that was a mix of dirty furs, sweat-stained tanned leather, rusted chain mail and mismatched pieces of plate mail. Their bodies were thick and muscular, yet an attractive shape. The assumption that orc women were ugly was just plain wrong, they were beautiful in their own way, even with their pronounced brow line and sharp teeth. All orcs possessed two teeth that were larger than the rest, referred to as tusks. These tusks were always on the bottom row and poked out of their mouths, giving them their signature orc look. The tusks came in different sizes for each orc. Amongst the orcs in this castle, judging purely based on the current sample group in the room, they maintained the traditional hairstyle of orc women, where they kept their black hair long, shaving patches away as it suited them.

Striding over to the now cowering intruder, the orcs stood around him, taking great amusement in his fear. Each of them was taller than him. He didn't look happy to be breathing in their body odour. “Give me the amulet” One of them commanded, holding out a large, green hand with fingernails the colour of a far darker green.

“Please, don't hurt me” Edward begged, doing as she said and giving her the amulet. It was the first time he had been caught and pleading with his captor seemed like the only thing to do; there was no way he could overpower an orc, not even a female one. It was as if they had evolved to dominate other races.

Snatching the amulet and roughly shoving it into one of her pockets, she laughed “No promises human. Boss Bramble will decide what will happen to you.” They converged on Edward, grabbing him and dragging him out of the treasure room, taking him to meet the infamous witch residing within the castle.

“Ouch!” Edward exclaimed as he was thrown to the ground. He tried to get up, but a strong green hand gripped the back of his neck and forced him into a kneeling position with his head down.

“We found this one in the treasure room” The orc holding Edward announced.

“He was trying to steal this” Said another, holding out the amulet to the witch who was sitting in her throne.

A dainty hand with neat, blood red fingernails reached out and took the amulet. “Interesting” A youthful, girlish voice said. “Release his head, let him look at me.”

Feeling the force holding his head down subside, Edward looked at the witch for the first time. He had been expecting an old crone with a hook nose, cackling like a demon. What he was faced with was a young girl, looking about eighteen, perhaps early twenties at a push. He had to remind himself of the things made possible with magic. No doubt she was using her powers to sustain her youth. He had to push away the feelings of infatuation swelling in his chest as he gazed at her pretty, freckled face. She had golden blonde hair in a pair of bushy twin pigtails and fair skin. Wearing a tailored sapphire dress that stopped just above the knee, the rest of her lower leg and feet were bare with toenails matching the colour of her fingernails.

“Return this to my treasure room” Alice told the orc who had handed the amulet to her, giving it back. The orc woman nodded and scurried out of the room to replace the amulet. She then turned to Edward, kneeling on the ground and staring at her with worry and fear. “You” She addressed him, causing him to flinch. She giggled. “Tell me why you are in my castle, trying to steal my property.”

“I was hired to take that amulet! Some woman in Nelrand offered me money to take it from you and give it to her!” Edward responded immediately, hoping to convince her into giving him mercy.

Alice Bramble laughed “My my, you certainly do have a loose tongue don't you? Here I was, looking forward to torturing the information out of you with some unusual form of torment.”

Shivering under the blue eyed gaze of the witch, Edward remained silent. He watched as she uncrossed her legs, suspending one foot forward in front of her. “Crawl over here. Now.”

The hand on his neck let go, allowing him to obey her command. He stopped with his face a couple of inches from her outstretched toes. “Tell me, what is the name of the thief who dare try and steal from Alice Bramble?”

“E-Edward Frenkel. My name is Edward Frenkel, lady Bramble.”

“It's good to meet you, Edward Frenkel. Kiss my toes.”

Meeting her eyes to check if she was being serious, he found that she was as evidenced by the eyes that contrasted the playful expression on her face. Not wanting to risk offending the monster that lurked inside the beautiful shell, Edward moved forward and started planting kisses on her toes. He found her feet to be mildly scented. Not a pleasant smell, but far preferable to what he experienced in the footwear store room earlier that very day. He thought he heard muttering from the witch and stopped, looking at Alice once more.

Before he could ask if she had said something, Alice stuck her big toe in front of his nose “No. No talking. Keep kissing.” Edward did just that, willing to try and satisfy the woman who held his life in her hands.

A flash of red came from the witch as she came to the end of her muttering and the flash seemed to signal a change in the prostrated thief. He found himself with a sudden erection. On the floor, kissing the feet of a stranger, he was aroused. Backing up in surprise, Edward looked up at the witch accusingly. She laughed musically. “Like it? I cast a spell on you Edward. A spell that makes the smell of female feet extremely arousing to you, regardless of whether or not you yourself are enjoying it. Aren't I a kind owner? The stinkier the feet, the more profound the effect.”

“NO!” Edward yelled, feeling disgusted. He would be attracted to the smell of feet? Gross! “Undo this, please!”

“I don't think I will. In fact, for trying to steal from me, Edward, I think I will keep you. As a slave.” She winked at him.

In resistance, Edward stood. A second red flash came from the witch and he froze, unable to flee as he had planned. Edward had underestimated the power of a witch and fallen under her control. “You're a little... too big slave. Let's fix that.” As Alice ended her sentence, Edward felt something peculiar. He felt his body shrinking. He couldn't move as his size changed, form just under six feet tall to a mere six inches.

“Much better” With a smirk, Alice brought her foot down on Edward's now shrunken body. Movement returned to him as he was crushed under her sole, squirming around. As her toes settled around his tiny head he sniffed their odour hard, filling with unwanted arousal. He thrust his penis into the cushion of soft foot flesh, moaning. “See! I knew you'd like it!” He didn't want this. Edward didn't want to be aroused by feet. But now, not only was the giant foot of this powerful witch raping him, but so was the smell of her feet. Inevitably, he started to reach a climax. However, Alice's spells didn't end here.

At the point where he would usually ejaculate, Edward found himself unable to do so. The arousal continued building, without any form of release. He continued humping the foot that was larger than him, grossed out by the smell but too overtaken with pleasure to care. All he found was frustration, somehow he was being held at the point just before climax and frustration was rapidly building. His intentional thrusting turned into helpless struggles and Alice picked up on this fact. “Aww, has my new pet realised that he can't cum? That's too bad!” Hearing howls of laughter from the other side of the room, Edward felt further humiliation as he remembered the Alice's orc minions were still in the room, watching the display with vigour.

“Well, I suppose that isn't totally true...” The witch brought her foot down fully on the tiny thief, bringing his struggles to little more than twitching beneath her sole. His head had ended up framed between her big toe and second toe. She held his head between the two toes and looked into his panic stricken eyes. “The spell I laid upon you allows you to cum, but only when you have permission from whoever you are serving. That means until you convince me to give you permission, my feet have you locked into a state of perpetual sexual frustration.”

Despite being at the height of denial, with every intake of breath Edward felt his arousal reaching new limits. “Please...”

“Sorry slave, I can't hear you. Your voice is a little quiet.”

“PLEASE!” Edward yelled at the top of his voice, hoping it would be enough to reach her ears.

Raising a single finger and tapping her smirking lips, Alice acted as though she were deep in thought, all the while squeezing the head of her slave between her toes. “Fine. I'll be merciful, Edward. Remember this, remember the kindness I have shown you and worship me with all you have. You may climax.”

In what was very possibly the most intense moment of sexual pleasure in his life, Edward shamefully ejaculated under the giant witch's foot. The small crowd of orcs cheered, the witch laughed triumphantly and Edward felt a sliver of relief. Alice didn't move her foot, instead leaving it atop her slave. As he wondered when she would let him go, he continued to breath in the aroma of her feet.

“Oh no” Edward said, feeling arousal return. Clearly the spell Alice placed on him had no delay between his orgasm and the next engorgement of his loins. “This isn't fair” He whimpered, anticipating the horrifying denial that approached.

“Ooooo Edward, you horny little footslut” Alice taunted “Feels like you're ready to go again.”

“No... Please...” Edward pleaded once more, but this time Alice wasn't listening. She started moving her foot again, rubbing him with her soft sole and letting him take in the smell, exciting him against his will as her spell worked its magic. There wasn't much that the sadistic witch enjoyed more that casually dominating a lesser being with her significant advantage of magic.

As she tormented him, she praised herself aloud in how she had known of his presence in her castle the entire time, telling him of the many magical sensors she had placed in the web of secret passages and outside rooms of importance, reminding him that he never stood a chance of stealing anything from her. She also went on to inform him that he had to work hard to please her, as he had made it so that she must perform the tiresome task of replacing each of the tripped sensors.

This went on for a while, quickly reducing Edward to a horny, begging, shrunken mess once more. Though his was brought to an end by an orc guard bursting into the room, breathing heavily.

“Boss Bramble!”

Alice's eyes shot up from her plaything, becoming serious in an instant. “What is it?”

“The amulet! The amulet that the thief stole is gone. I entered the treasure room after Nakisi to see what was taking so long and there she was, unconscious, with the amulet nowhere in sight.” The orc said between breaths. She must have ran at full speed from the treasure room to Alice's throne room, drawing on that famed orc endurance.

Silence filled the room. Even the orcs jovially watching their boss breaking in her tiny slave had straight faces and weren't making so much as a peep. Then, Alice Bramble lifted her foot off of Edward's body, high in the air above him, before bringing it down hard, pounding him into the floor with none of the cruel tenderness she had exhibited previously. “So, you're part of a team? Why did you not confess this to me slave? Did you honestly expect to be capable of escaping from here once I had you?” With each question the rage in her voice grew, like storm clouds gathering above a town.

Edward was just as confused as the witch was, though less angry and more afraid. He had no idea that there was another thief after the same prize as him. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he was in the perfect position to take all of the blame. “Do you have nothing to say to me Edward!?”

“W-w-w-asn't me--”

“SPEAK UP SLAVE” Another stomp.

“IT WASN'T ME!” He shouted, straining his vocal cords. It amounted to the volume that a regular sized person would speak at.

“I know that, you've been under my foot since your capture.”

“NO! I WORK ALONE!” Desperately, Edward had to convince the witch of his innocence in regards to this latest theft. Throughout all of this rough punishment Alice was inflicting, he was still being turned on by Alice's slightly sweaty feet.

“LIAR!” One final stomp, one that left him weeping under her foot brought an end to the assault. That's when her demeanour changed. “Oh well” She smiled once more, her voice returning to its normal, playful tone.

“That amulet was of little worth to me anyhow, even with its monetary value. A trophy of wealth, nothing more. But your transgression towards your new master cannot go unpunished Edward. I wanted to grant you a life of great sexual pleasure under my pretty feet, but now I think a worse fate is more suitable for scum like yourself.”

Terror tore through the mind of the tiny man, gazing at the witch as she moved her foot off of him for what would be the last time. It was obvious even to him that under her calm, joyful expression there was now some resentment towards him. Nobody ever rebelled again Alice Bramble without suffering for it. I mean, Edward didn't actually rebel, but she didn't know that and she wanted someone to inflict misery on.

Planting her bare feet back at the base of her throne, Alice beckoned for one of her orc guards to come over to her, the one at the forefront of the pack. The orc obeyed, walking over to just before where Edward lay on the ground, stunned by his treatment. “What is it, Boss?”

“Be truthful, do you miss having the opportunity to capture your own humans like you would in the outside world? To have someone unwilling to dominate and torment beneath the smell of your feet?”

The orc girl grinned, showing off her sharp teeth and large tusks “I do Boss. The only greater pleasure for an orc than attracting the greatest warrior in the tribe is enslaving a human who despises the smell of feet and forcing them to endure it.”

“Good” The witch gestured to Arthur “In that case, take little Edward here. Take him back to the orc barracks and keep him there, so that I never lay eyes on him again. The spells on him include spells of endurance, toughness and presence. He will never tire, never die, never even go unconscious or need sleep!” Alice laughed “He doesn't even need sustenance! Though that isn't to say that he can't eat or drink, in fact he can consume anything you want him to. Take him, and ensure that you and every orc in the castle work together to turn his life a living, reeking hell of nothing but sweaty feet and sexual denial. The ability to grant permission for him to cum extends to all of you, so have fun with your new toy.”

Cheers erupted from the back of the room. Orc voices chanting the name of their boss, celebrating the gift that she had given them. The orc crouched down and picked up Edward, still grinning broadly, seemingly unable to remove her hungry eyes from him. “Hello there. I hope you are ready for some mighty stinky feet, because that's all you're gonna get worm!” In her muscular hand, Edward was unable to do anything but squirm, wanting anything but to experience what lay ahead of him.

Still cheering, all of the orcs left the room, escorting their new toy back to the barracks to share with everyone. If their feet was anything at all like the body odour of the orcs around him, Edward was in for a bad time.

In broad daylight, a figure walked through the streets of Nelrand, heading straight for the Duke's keep. They walked with great purpose, a singular objective clear in their mind. The identity of his figure was hidden by a long, brown, hooded cloak that covered the entirety of the rather slim, short body.

No-one paid much attention to this figure. The people of Nelrand were too busy going about their everyday business: visiting the market, trying to sell off their own goods, some even up to shadier activities. None of that mattered to the individual.

The Duke's keep struck an imposing view, though less so than structures that the hooded figure had visited recently. Regardless, no matter how magnificent a building looked, it wouldn't intimidate this particular person.

Guards stepped forward as the visitor approached the open portcullis of the keep, crossing their halberds before the figure to stop them.

“Halt! Who goes there!” One of the guards asked loudly, not willing to let a stranger into the Duke's property.

“A friend” A woman's voice came from under the hood “I come seeking a lady of nobility, someone going by the name 'Miss Terry.'”

Looking surprised, the guardsmen withdrew their extended halberds. “We sincerely apologise” The guard who had spoken said, bowing his head “Please forgive us. We had no idea you were an associate of the Duke's own daughter.”

“You are forgiven” The figure gave a smile so pleased at this treatment that the guards could sense it beneath the hood “Now move aside.”

Doing as she commanded, the guards hindered the guest no further, leaving her with free reign to explore the keep. Of course, there was no need for her to do so. On missions in the past, the figure had come to know the layout of the keep like the back of her hand. She headed up to the second floor: to the bedroom of Miss Terry.

Knock knock.

Opening the door, Miss Terry gave a small help in surprise. She was out of her low class disguise, wearing an embroidered nightgown. In the pale moonlight, she looked beautiful. “Hello? Who are you exactly?”

Bowing, the figure spoke “Greetings, Lady Renford. This is... the first time I've been invited into your father's residence, so excuse me if I seem a little awkward. My name is Vennis. I am from the thieves guild.”

“Oh?” Lady Renford moved backwards, allowing the thief to enter her bedroom. Vennis did so, pulling down her hood in the process. “Have you come to report the success of Mister Frenkel?”

A single, loud, mocking laugh came from Vennis. “Not exactly” A thud was heard as Vennis pulled Lady Renford's amulet from her cloak and placed it on the table.

“The amulet!” Lady Renford exclaimed in surprise, drinking in the sight of the item with greed. “I hired Edward Frenkel to steal this... why do you have it?”

Vennis took a seat, putting her booted feet up on the table and relaxing “Well, I may have overheard a thing or two when you pulled him aside. You see, when I joined the guild, I made it my aim to surpass Edward. He was so smug, so arrogant, yet so weak. I could sense it in him. He didn't deserve to sit at the top. That position belonged to me. So when I heard you giving him such a rewarding mission, I couldn't resist following him, taking the amulet before him and earning the glory myself.”

Taking in the information, Lady Renford started laughing. She laughed so much, tears came to her eyes and she was unable to stop herself for a good minute or two. “If I'd have known there were a thief as capable as you in the guild, Vennis, I would have come to you first!” She said as she regained control of herself. “So, I must ask, what became of Mister Frenkel?”

“He was captured. By orcs” Vennis couldn't help smirking as she told the noblewoman this, imagining how much suffering he must be going through at the hands of individuals of such a brutal race, under the command of a cruel witch. “I don't know what they did with him, but I don't think it will have been anything pleasant.”

Lady Renford pulled out a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses from her cabinet, placing both glasses on the table and pouring a generous amount in each. “In that case, a toast to Edward Frenkel. Whatever hell he is currently going through, he is going through that hell so that the two of us can be better off. To Edward's sacrifice for women superior to himself.” Lady Renford giggled, raising her glass.

“I'll drink to that!” Vennis chuckled, raising her own glass too “May he make the orc girls and the witch very happy!” The two women laughed together as they clashed their glasses together before taking a drink, savouring their freedom and glory.

“Lick! Lick! Lick! Lick up that sweat!” Cheered the orcs, gathered around a small arena they had erected in the centre of the barracks. In the arena was a tiny man, surrounded by a wall of big, green orc feet that were dripping with sweat. Orc's feet were the same shade of green as the rest of their skin, with the soles and undersides of the toes being a couple shades lighter. The large, round toenails were the same dark green as their fingernails.

Flagons clanked together in the expansive room, utterly filled with the stink of feet. It was so thick, so potent, that whatever 'air' that remained in the room had a green hue to it, with the smell being so strong that it was visible, taking an appearance similar to fog. Even without all of the bare orc feet that were currently exposed in the barracks, the room had constantly tainted air due to all the orcs that lived here and their habit of airing out the boots and socks that they wore day in day out near where they slept. Hell, because orc women handed down footwear through generations, their socks and boots reeked just as badly as the feet that they never washed, with the exception of forcing people to clean them using their mouths. Thanks to the hot temperature of the room combined with orc physiology, the pores on their feet were overactive, providing plenty of sour sweat for the tiny slave to lap up.

Edward did as he was told, exhausted from all the licking and constant hot and humid conditions that he now lived in, his every breath both of source of smelly torment and unmatched arousal. The witch hadn't been kidding when she said that the sexual arousal he felt would be greater when he smelt stinkier feet, and the odour graciously provided by the feet of her hundreds of orc minions was great indeed, leagues beyond whatever Alice herself could create if she had actually been trying. It seemed that even magic paled when compared to thousands of years of evolution and culture.

“Please... Let me cum” Edward begged between long licks. Orc's had surprisingly soft soles, he had found, despite spending almost literally every waking moment in heavy boots, making it difficult for him to be so close to them without periodically rubbing his steely member against the doughy flesh, something the orcs found hilarious. The softness had something to do with their skin already being tough and not needing to callous. Though that fact meant very little to the tiny man right now.

“Hmmmm” The orc having her feet worshipped pondered out loud, conjuring grins onto the faces of every orc in the room. “I suppose it has been a few days. That erection must be just unbearable for you right now, yeah?” She paused to laugh “I love how much my feet turn you on little guy, I want you to tell them about what you're going through and how much you love them.”

After months in this hellish room, being held just before the point of orgasm whilst also being ceaselessly stimulated in ways he never thought possible in his worst nightmares, being forced to suffer under countless reeking feet, Edward had long ago lost his dignity. “I love you” Kiss “I love you so much” Kiss “I NEED release. I need it so damn bad” Kiss. He broke down sobbing, a common occurrence that always amused his many tormentors. He tried to ignore the maddening throbbing of his loins as he continued giving the stinky foot, which was far bigger than he was, sloppy kisses and telling it how much he supposedly loved it. Though from past experiences, he doubted that earning his release would be so easy.

“I've made my decision!” The same orc girl announced. Edward said silent prayers in his head, hoping for mercy. No such luck. “You can have your release... Once you've eaten the toejam of all of these barefoot beauties that are blessing you with their stench.”

By this, she meant the orcs in the room who sat with their feet bared and in his arena. The rest of the orcs in the barracks that were stood around watching still had their footwear on, preparing their feet for a later session in which they would take part.

In horror, Edward shook his head slowly, unable to comprehend how cruel these women could be. The toejam of orc girls was the physical manifestation of their terrible foot funk that grew in the the damp caverns between their thick, powerful toes. There did not exist a worse taste than the cheesy, bitter taste of orc toejam. In a dry state, it would have the consistency of jam but as orc feet were never dry, the persistent marinading in footsweat gave the toejam the consistency of damp peanut butter. It wouldn't be his first time eating it, but he had never had to consume such a substantial amount of the sour toe gunk before.

Giggling, all of the orcs lowered their feet, giving the tiny human access to their toes that would normally be too high for him to reach without great effort. He stood in the middle of a ring of massive green toes, struggling to function as both the impossibly awful stench and immense, frustrating arousal racked his body, his seemingly endless erection standing to attention as always. Realising that it didn't matter where he started, the process would be equally gruelling no matter whose toes he began cleaning between first and so chose to start with the orc he had pleaded with to give him permission to orgasm. She smiled as he hesitantly approached, spreading her toes and exposing the reeking crevices that were smeared with the terrible toejam that was so important to orcs. “Enjoy your meal slave” The orc girl taunted “We've worked hard on that precious toejam.”

Kicking off his arduous, torturous task in order to earn those few seconds of relief that he so desperately needed, Edward dived into the first of many toe caves and started eating the disgusting substance as quickly as he could. By the time that the first stinky set of toes was done, all of the vileness cleansed from between each, his pace had slowed significantly. Taking his first mouthful of toejam on the second foot, choking on the intense fumes while also being turned on by them. Truly, the witch Alice Bramble had devised a terrible torture indeed by casting such evil, sadistic spells on him and leaving him to a horde of merciless orc girls who wanted nothing more than to make him endure every rancid aspect of their feet.

Hours later, Edward was finished. Using his cursed bottomless stomach, he had eaten more than his own body weight in the filth that these orcs took great delight in making him eat from between their toes. Unfortunately for Edward the orcs couldn't resist the urge to clamp their cheesy toes around his head as he worked making the already difficult task all the more taxing. The final set had taken just as long as the first four pairs, he had slowed down so much from fatigue. Thankfully, this resulted in a dozen orc girls looking rather satisfied with his efforts. Such a sight was promising, as it had always meant an upcoming release. Though, as with anything these orcs did to him, his release would be anything but easy.

“Good job!”

“My toes look good as new!”

“Who's a good little footslave? You are!”

The orcs showered him with compliments for his work.

“So what do you think girls?” One of them addressed the others “You think he deserves his release?”

“Sure” Another one responded, rubbing her sweaty bare feet together “Let's make it fun for him.”

“Oh no” Edward murmured as the soles formed up, creating a wall of stinky green flesh topped with looming, bulbous heads.

“Get him girls!” One of them yelled with glee, signalling for all of them to move their feet towards the tiny, who yearned for his orgasm that he had worked so hard for. The space around Edward that wasn't occupied by nasty foot flesh was slowly taken away as they made their way towards him. The crowd of orcs spectating had gone quiet, watching the finale to his most recent bout of foot filled denial torture with hushed excitement.

He groaned in sexual anguish as he felt the warm mass of soles eventually make contact, smushing him between the two fastest feet in the circle. They pushed him to the floor, and the many other feet who failed to reach him reached fell upon him, burying the tiny under smelly feet. They rubbed his body with their sole, teased his engorged member with their toes. The group worked together, allowed each other to have a go at the little guy with their own feet. Now not only was Edward being stimulated by the spell, but being physically stimulated by the twelve bares of funky orc feet.

The orcs continued violating the suffering tiny with their feet for a few minutes, ignoring his miserable cries for help, they verbally teased him, asking if their feet stink, asking if he wants to cum. He barely heard them, lost in the overwhelming sexual frustration. He was so close. So damn close. He had been this close for days and only a few words from his tormentors could end it.

“Go ahead. You have permission to orgasm. You better me grateful.”

Seconds after the orc who spoke finished, Edward exploded. The semen was washed away almost immediately in the heavy mass of sweaty feet that he was in the centre of, but the unreal euphoria that consumed him in the moment of orgasm stopped him from caring about his surroundings for a short yet vital moment. While the build up was most definitely not worth it, when he was given permission to ejaculate after days sporting an erection that just wouldn't quit, one that screamed for release, the result was incomparable to any experience he had in his previous way of life. Even the original orgasm bestowed upon him by the witch herself was nothing on this.

The feet withdrew, presumably being contained by dirty, sweaty socks and returning to their hot, swampy boots, their owners aiming to make them stinkier for next time and to cultivate more 'delicious' toejam.

“Thank you slave” One of the orcs said to the tiny, who was collapsed in a worn out heap on the floor of his arena. She blew him a kiss and stood, likely going for a patrol of the castle or for a jog to compensate for the sweat that Edward had licked from her feet. The others did the same, saying something similar, some blowing a kiss or winking at him, then going to work out.

It didn't take very long for Edward to become erect again. In this room of perpetual foot stink, there was no escape from sexual stimulation thanks to Alice's spell. After deciding amongst themselves who currently had the smelliest feet, the winner stepped forward, standing above Edward's defeated form in his personal torture arena. “Hello there maggot” She grinned down at him, taking one of the seats by the arena. With great effort tugging at her armoured, thick, leather boot, she managed to remove her foot, then peeled off the filthy sock which had taken in so much sweat that the thick, absorbent material clung to her green foot like a second skin. The odour filling Edward's lungs became far worse with such a dreadful appendage back in close proximity. He wished for his cycle of torment, stink and denial to end as the foot slowly came over him, the orc wiggling her gargantuan toes and wrinkling her damp, wide sole. Now completely in the shadow of this orc's foot, Edward wept again as it fell on him, pressing down with immense pressure, sufficient pressure to plaster him to the sticky, sweaty foot. When she lifted her foot again, Arthur was no longer in his arena. No, he was being transported from one prison to another. She took great pleasure in putting her sock back on, knowing that the disgusting material would cling tightly to his back, making escape even more impossible than it already was. The final act consisted of shoving her foot back in the still steaming boot. For the next few days, Edward would remain in there underfoot; being cooked in the confines of this orc's boot, wriggling lustfully against her soft, sweating sole, with no-one to hear him begging for release once more.

An entire week later, the orc entered the barracks after a day of patrolling the land around the castle, baking in the hot light of the sun. She loved the squishing sensations she felt under her sole with every step, knowing that a week trapped in her boot with a big, sweaty foot would have been nothing but pure torment for the tiny.

Having been summoned to the barracks on account of currently being one of the twelve stinkiest orcs in the garrison, she was pleased to see the others sat at the hot table with a deck of cards. Twelve had become the quintessential amount of orcs to take part in the tiny slave's stinky sessions, not too many that the torment became too impersonal but plenty to provide ample feet to drive him insane.

Named for the enchantment on it, the hot table had become an effective tool to punish Edward. It was a table where the area underneath it was extremely hot and thanks to the many pairs of boots and soaked socks left to sit in the hot zone, very humid too. The orc girls, always looking for ways to make their feet smellier, sought any of the limited seats at the table whenever they had to do something that required use of a table: from eating their dinner to playing board games or cards.

“What took you so long?” A grinning orc already sat at the table asked the orc 'taking care' of Edward. Green wisps of pure foot odour leaked out from below the table.

“I had to stop by the Boss' room and decided to take the long route. I could feel the worm squirming around under my foot, so I knew he was enjoying himself. How could I deprive him of that?” The other orcs laughed as she took a seat at the table. Pulling off her boot and sock, she peeled the tiny from her sweaty foot and deposited him on the table. He was a crying mess, pleading with his masters from the second he was freed.

“Do you ever get tired of begging us so much?” An orc toying with the deck of cards asked. Another one of them leaned forward, grabbing the middle of the table and pulling it out, revealing a small hole. From the hole viridescent stinky fumes spilled out. On the piece of the table she had pulled out, a pair of shackles hung on a long chain. Edward had been hung underneath the hot table before and it was arguably the worst torture they had devised for him thus far.

“I-I... just want this to end” Edward said, hugging himself and trying to ignore the vexation that filled his body, leaving him unable to remain still. Of course, now that he was out of the boot the effect was somewhat lessened but simply being in this room didn't allow a break. Regardless, he was soon to be plunged into a hell far worse than any orc's boot. Three orcs manhandled the tiny, who resisted not out of hope but out of the fact that every touch to his overly sensitised body was agonising. Using a gag made from the fibres taken from a moist orc sock, they stuffed it in his mouth, enclosing his miniature wrists in the shackles at the same time. Unable to beg and forced to breath entirely through his nose, Edward moaned. The next orgasm was hours away at least, and he wasn't sure he could endure until the end of this torture session. He would, of course. He had endured every previous one, simply because he had no choice in the matter, no means of escape.

“Oh yeah, one more thing slave” The orc who had been taking care of him for the past week addressed him directly, the look of barely contained joy on her face evident that she had bad news “I visited Boss Bramble before I came here, to inform her of how your torment is coming along.”

Edward whimpered into his gag in response, eager to hear what the witch had said. The hope of an eventual end bloomed, perhaps Alice would pity him and either show him mercy or just put him out of his chronic misery.

“Well... you're not gonna like this, but she's not happy with how kindly we've been treating you.”

Kindly!? The word seemed out of place. Did she have a lacking vocabulary? Did she have any understanding of what that word meant? What he had been put through was anything but kind. For the first time in a while, Edward felt something more than frustration, despair and humiliation. He felt angry.

“After hearing her points, I've come to agree with her. When we make you worship our feet to earn your release, you're not desperate enough. You know how easily we'll give you the orgasm that you seek if you please us. So, she's made a rule that you must go through a whole year of continuous stimulation and denial at our smelly feet before we even consider granting you permission to cum.”

A... Year? Impossible! Edward felt the fresh anger evaporate as quickly as it had arrived, feeling a chilling dread overtake his mind. It seemed so... unbearable. To him, even a week of this had felt like an eternity of torture; a year would be unimaginable.

“Okay, he's heard it. Let's play already! I'm getting bored” One of the more impatient orcs at the table spoke.

“You heard her Edward, it's time to go bye bye. Since we won't need to talk to you for a good while, given your new sentence, you're gonna be under the table for way longer than you ever thought you would be. Don't worry, I'll ensure that all of the seats are occupied at all times, so there will be plenty of big stinky feet to keep you company.” With that, she dangled the tiny above the centre hole of the table, lowering him into the reeking abyss below. As he passed the threshold, he was assaulted by extremely potent stench and heat without delay, the atmosphere proving to be worse than the inside of an oven-like boot with a rapidly perspiring foot crushing him. He continued down until the hole was plugged, leaving him hanging there. Underneath his feet, which were swinging limply, was a vast collection of vacant boots and discarded socks, polluting the space under the table until no air remained, only foot stink. That would have been bad enough, but the already limited space was filled up by the enormous, ripe feet of the twelve orcs that crammed themselves around the table. Now that Edward was available to be toyed with, they grappled with his body, hugging him with their grimy toes, embedding him in their fleshy soles and overall molesting his highly aroused body with inhumanly ripe feet. In such a state, even a light touch was what could only be described as sexual agony, and the way they touched him was anything but light.

They did this without even thinking, to them it seemed like the natural thing to do as they amused themselves above playing cards. Dealing out the cards, the orcs cared little for the suffering of Edward at their feet, only that he was being dominated so easily by them, that they were putting him through hell with almost no effort. As painful frustration racked his helpless body, being attacked by massive, acrid feet in the midst of this malodorous miasma, Edward desperately craved the few moments of ecstasy which was denied from him, the unrivalled orgasm which was at least an entire year of torture away.

Darkened skies told the demon-slayer that he was on the correct path. It seemed that she was gaining power, enough power to somewhat influence the weather anyway. When he had left the prior village, well rested and topped up, the summer sky had been blue and bright, the few clouds present wispy and white. Every few miles of walking had brought the optimistic warrior closer to the thick cluster of black and dark grey clouds that hung heavy over his destination.

Around him, hills of grass stretched out for many hundreds of feet, ending in mountains. The target location was positioned at the meeting point of two narrow mountain ranges, forming a valley in which an ancient temple was located. An excellent strategic point. That's not something architects usually consider when building a place of holy worship; unholy worship on the other hand...

A few hills later and the demon-slayer was at the gaping mouth of the valley. Off in the distance, the great temple of Raeariel the fallen stood tall and imposing. The main building had the kind of appearance that one would expect of a temple, grey stone brick, large windows and an unintentionally ominous atmosphere. The first floor of the temple had twisted black spires protruding from the walls and windows, as if they were bursting free from the ground floor. The overall form and design of the temple was interrupted by these spires, turning the gothic architecture into something even more sinister. The open roof of the temple culminated in more spires still, exploding from the roof and pointing towards the depressing sky. Near the rear of the roof the emerging spires joined and created a large room atop the roof. Inside would no doubt be a throne where sat the being that the demon-slayer sought.

Fatigue told the lone man that now would be a good time to stop and rest, to renew his energy before trying to fight against the fallen angel and her cultists. Dropping on to one knee on top of the flattest hill, one with a frail tree to keep him company, the tired wanderer unloaded only a bedroll. A fire this close to his enemy would be a terrible decision.

With a tug, he pulled his helmet off, the sweat matted hair sticking to his forehead. Arthur was younger than one might expect a demon-slayer to be. Demon-slayers were almost always seasoned veterans with plentiful fighting experience that turned to fighting foul hellspawn after losing their families or going through something similarly tragic. Arthur wasn't. Arthur was a hopeful young village boy with a fierce determination to prove himself to a beautiful woman, also having heard that the profession involving the hunting and killing of dangerous demons was incredibly profitable. What he didn't consider was that he had to be good at it. Of course, taking on a being as formidable as Raeariel the fallen was not a good idea for even an experienced demon-slayer, never mind an amateur.

Ignorant of the danger he was in, Arthur climbed inside his bedroll snugly, smiling to himself as he thought about the vast wealth that awaited him at the end of the road. Having not fought any battles on his journey thus far, he was more than willing to believe that slaying the actual demon would be just as easy and he was woefully mistaken.

Falling into the realm of sleep easily, the would be slayer slipped into his dreams.

A tavern. People staring at him. On the ground, prostrating himself to Amelia. So beautiful. So talented. She says something. A challenge. He wants to be with her. She will be with him, if he can prove himself to be as tough as her.

“Slay her. Slay Raeariel the fallen and I will see you as my equal. I lay only with my equals. Anyone below me deserves only my reeking boot.” A round of laughter rose from the patrons, their faces all a blurred mess. Man or woman, it was hard to tell, they were unimportant. Only she was important. Amelia. Her face, her lovely face, was clear. A grin of superiority was present.

A smell touched Arthur's nostrils as she removed one of her boots. Those gathered around her recoiled, retreating back. Only Arthur remained now, though he did want to back up, get away from the encroaching vile aroma. He held on.

“Come on worm. If you accept my challenge, plug my filthy boot with your nose. You must withstand that before withstanding a true quest.” Amelia laughed, wiggling her rank, sweaty toes. Who knows how long it had been since she had washed her feet, let alone removed her boots. Demon-slayers could be on the road for weeks without rest.

Crawling forward, the stink grew more powerful. In order to accept the challenge, in order to have a chance with the woman he desired, Arthur forced himself to bury his nose in the vacant boot offered to him. He had regretted it immediately. The smell burned as it travelled up his nose, stung his senses. An odour strong enough to taste. Yet sniff it he did, as she had not allowed him to stop. He endured the torment, screwing his eyes shut.

“Good. Now, pull your nose out of there if you are able. I want you to give my foot a big sloppy kiss before I send you on your way.” Arthur had done as she commanded, finding the taste of her foot to be more awful than the smell of her boot. He accidentally consumed some of her warm, bitter foot sweat. When he tried to stop, she simply commanded “Keep going. Keep kissing” and he did. Despite his brain telling him to stop, to spare himself of the terrible taste, Arthur continued obeying.

Amelia laughed, then reached down and grabbed his shirt. With a strong pull she dragged him up so that he was face to face with her, staring into her hard yet amused eyes. “You smell like my feet. I like that. So you go slay Raeariel and I'm yours. The deal is on.” Arthur nodded, entranced by her seemingly mystical yet brutish allure. “To make sure that you don't back out or try and renege on my challenge...” A hand produced a necklace from her pocket, a silver necklace complete with a blue gem on it. As soon as it was over Arthur's head it constricted, binding to the contours of his neck and becoming a collar in the blink of an eye. “I have a variety of magic items with me. They serve many different purposes, not just in helping me defeat my prey. This one will punish you when you fail. As soon as it believes you to have failed in your quest, it will use its magic upon you. I won't spoil what the punishment is.”

Feeling her hot, ale laced breath on his face for the last time, Amelia pushed Arthur away before putting her boot back on, saving everyone from her foot odour. He walked away, going to retrieve his savings and purchase some equipment which he now desperately needed.

“Oh and Arthur” Amelia called out. Arthur paused, looking back at her to see what she wanted. “When you fail, I will know. I will come to slay Raeariel afterwards and if I come across you after the necklace has worked its magic... let's just say, you'll become very familiar with the bottom of my smelly foot.” Amelia chuckled loudly as Arthur made his exit. The sound of her laughter followed him on every part of his journey, as did the smell of her foot.

Suddenly waking, Arthur practically jumped out of his bedroll. The same dream had haunted him for weeks. His encounter with the demon-slayer Amelia, both amazing and terrifying in its own right. Under his armour, he could still feel the collar clinging to his neck, an ever present reminder of his quest. He had already attempted to remove it many times, yet it refused to even budge. What would happen were he to fail? Would it be painful?

If it was anything like having to smell her boot, the consequences of failing were to be avoided at all costs. Especially with the reward in mind. Had Arthur ever laid eyes on a more perfect woman?

Sadly, things were not looking up for the naïve young man. As he slipped out of the bedroll and climbed to his feet, he was suddenly aware of several figures stood around him, watching him. Fumbling for his sword, the loose belt unbuckled and it fell to the floor. “Shit!” He exclaimed, dropping to the ground and picking it back up.

A round of giggles emanated from those viewing this clumsiness. Arthur tried to invoke an intimidating appearance but by this point it was ruined. His sword now in hand, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the potential enemies. “Who are you and what do you want?” His voice was steely despite the fear he felt.

One of the figures stepped closer. All of them wore form fitting crimson robes, making it obvious that they were women. The red robes had hoods pulled up, along with gold masks that covered their faces and made their identities unknown. The masks featured the face of a smiling, gorgeous women carved into them. The one who stepped forward had a pair of gold horns jutting out of the mask's temples, curling back over the hood. “Tell me traveller, what brings you to this land?” She ignored his question.

“I-I...” Arthur thought for a moment. Surely these women were followers of Raeariel and telling them that he was here to slay her would be suicide. Thinking on his feet, Arthur chose a lie “I've come here to serve the mighty Raeariel! I have heard of her power and done much research in order to serve her to the best of my abilities!”

“Liar.” One of the un-horned masked women hissed. Another echoed her, then another. Soon the word had passed through all of their lips like thr spitting out of sour milk.

“Hmph. My associates are correct. If you truly had done your research, you would know that Raeariel takes only women into servitude. To her, men are either toys, prisoners or slaves. Which are you, may I ask?” With her knowledge, she mocked him.

Arthur laughed. The situation seemed hopeless, so he was railroaded into one choice. “Fine. You got me. I ain't here to serve Raeariel. I'm here to kill the bitch” He tried to sound scary. There was no visible reaction from them, but under their masks, invisible to Arthur, they were smiling with amusement.

“No, that won't do. I'll tell you how things are going to go 'demon-slayer'. We are going to subdue you, drag you back to the castle then allow Raeariel to decide your fate. Said fate will likely be a life of torture by our hands in the dungeon. Perhaps telling her of the disrespect you showed us will convince her to take a personal role in your torture, a possibility which should terrify you.”

“Let's go then, show me what you got” Arthur knew he was in well over his head.

“If you insist” The horned cultist said, raising a pale hand with slender fingers and well tended fingernails. Arthur tensed, somewhat ready to fight, as much as he'd ever been anyway. Unfortunately, fighting a mage was hard enough for a skilled warrior; impossible for a novice.

Rushing forwards, what looked like a dim bolt of lightning flew from her extended fingers and hit the advancing amateur. Arthur felt sudden shock rocket through his body and he dropped like a rock, out cold. “Well, that was easy” The leader of the cultists said to her companions, who laughed and joked in response. “Okay girls, take him away. I want him in the dungeon ready for me.” With this command she turned and began walking back to the temple, the rest of the cultists grabbing the unconscious Arthur and following their leader.

“Uhhh? What?”

“Quiet prisoner!”

Arthur had woken groggily and wholly confused. He was in a dark cell, the only light coming from a lit torch in a sconce on the wall. He was in the centre of the cell, trapped in a wooden box with only his head exposed. From what he could see, there were chairs all around the strange device, the seats of the chairs coming around level with with head. The flat surface around his head that was sticking out of the box was cushioned, as if it were a footrest rather than a bondage device in a dungeon. The stern voice that had put an end to his waking murmurs had come from outside his cell. He was facing the wrong way to be able to get a look at the door to the cell, but he could guess that it was one of the red robed cultists.

He wasn't waiting long for the cavalry to arrive. With a squeak that sent shivers down the spine of the restrained prisoner, the cultist with horns entered his dank cell, an entourage of un-horned cultists only a few steps behind. Nine of them in total, the cultists sat down in the chairs that had been set up around him. “Hello Arthur” The leader said, awaiting a response. She had taken the chair directly in front of his face.

“H-how do y-y-you know my name?” He asked, not bothered any more about leaving the fear he felt out of his voice. It may have been a little late, but Arthur realised that he was in way over his head.

“Well, because we've been rooting through your belongings. I must say, the source that revealed your name was immensely amusing” The cultists started guffawing, unable to restrain their amusement. To make sure he knew what she was talking about, the horned cultist pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. She unravelled it and spun it around so that Arthur could see it. It was the paper that he was planning to leave on the corpse of his target, a calling card of sorts, featuring a poorly drawn man standing over the body of a poorly drawn red skinned woman that he had just defeated. The paper was signed as well: 'Arthur, the great demon-slayer, was here. He slew this devil in the name of Amelia!'”

“So, do you know Amelia? Perhaps you are her ward and she sent you to scout the area. That's when your ego grew out of control and you deemed yourself capable of slaying Raeariel to gain Amelia's favour. Am I wrong?”

“S-somewhat. I-I-I have met A-Amelia... once. I professed my love for her. She laughed in my face, answering with a challenge. If I can s-slay Raeariel, she will be with me.”

Laughter sounded once again, louder and more mocking this time. If the hole in the box wasn't tight around his neck, Arthur would have shamefully hid inside.

“Ah. This sounds very likely considering the kind of man you have shown yourself to be. How pathetic. Now you will spend the rest of your life being tortured in Raeariel's dungeon. Actually, I think I can convince Raeariel herself to pay you a visit, once I tell her of your disrespectful nature and show her this... this... insult. I am glad your connection to the infamous demon-slayer is only superficial however. We were unsure of how we would deal with her, when she inevitably arrived. We have more time to prepare than we thought, evidenced by your presence here. She likely expected you to get caught and wanted us to torment you.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Arthur asked in fear. Yet, in spite of all this, he still clung to a faint glimmer of hope.

“I'll give you a clue” Now even the usually oblivious Arthur could feel the grin behind the golden mask. “Before Raeariel fell, she was the 'angel of aroma', a being who lived for spreading her fine scents throughout the world, whether that be through pleasant flowers or special perfumes. When an angel falls, they tend to become the inverse of what they once were. So when Raeariel was cast out, her form monstrous and twisted by corruption, she became the 'demoness of odour'.”

Allowing the reveal of her mistress's title dwell on the man in the box, all of the cultists around the table pulled up the hems of their robes, unstrapping the leather sandals from their feet. “N-now hold on ladies, let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

The cultists ignored Arthur, bringing up their legs and placing their unwashed feet around his head. He tried moving his head away from the feet, but with nine pairs all around him, there was nowhere to run. “Can you get your damn feet away from me ple-- MMMMMPPPHHH” Arthur had moved his head backwards as the horned cultist pushed her dirty soles towards his face, but a couple pairs of feet halted his escape, holding his head in place as she mashed her feet into his face.

Soon enough, all Arthur could see were soles and toes. There was little he could do to avoid the torment of the sweaty feet pressing up against his face, forcing their foul odour up his nostrils. They took turns clamping greasy toes over the helpless nose, exposing him to the vileness the cultists cultivated between their toes.

At all times toes laid siege to Arthur's mouth, his lips pressed shut to prevent invasion. They teased the closed lips gently, prematurely lubricating them up with toe sweat, knowing that eventually Arthur's resistance would weaken.

“C'mon Arthur, open up. You know you want to” One of the cultist's cooed, causing laughter amongst the others. Admittedly, there would be some benefit to giving up and letting the feet violate his mouth. For one, he wouldn't need to breath entirely through his nose.

Minutes later, when he finally caved and allowed his lips to part, Arthur found out that letting them in wasn't better in the slightest. It was in fact far, far worse. Intense, bitter, cheesy flavours found their way to every corner of his mouth, assaulting his sense of taste.

“I'm guessing that's yummy, judging from the look on your face!” Another cultist teased the prisoner, despite barely being able to see his expression under all those feet.

The torture beneath nine pairs of stinky feet continued on for hours. Arthur's will grew weaker with every sniff, every toe being pushed into his mouth. The cultists rotated on their chairs, giving each of them equal time in every seat. It began to feel less and less like reality to the prisoner and more like a nightmare, a nightmare that he could do nothing to end. The cultists were fully prepared to continue tormenting him like this, but the horned cultist felt like she had to fully break Arthur, as if she were being compelled to do so, and so brought a stop to the action.

“Ladies, give this worm a break” The horned cultist commanded, withdrawing her feet from Arthur's face, though keeping them perched on the edge of the box he was contained within, ready to be reapplied at a moment's notice.

“Is... is it over?” Arthur asked with dim hope, breathing in air that wasn't filtered through a blanket of sweaty, filthy feet. He felt gross, well aware that of the sticky, smelly sweat that totally soaked his hair and sat on his skin.

“Far from it Arthur” The lead cultist told him with complete authority. She was in control of his fate now, and he dreaded what she would do with it. “I will grant you a reprieve, if you do as I say.”

“And what do you ask?” Arthur asked, not even making an attempt to hide the desperation in his voice.

“That you lick our feet Arthur. If you can lick all of our feet clean... we'll let you go. You can leave this place a free man, with only mild mental trauma.” As the cultists laughed, Arthur considered the offer. Sure it would get him out of this situation, but the silver collar around his neck lingered in the back of his mind. Amelia had told him that he would feel the power of its magic once he failed. What did it consider to be failing? Would it activate if the cultists freed him?

“Okay” Arthur had made a decision. Screw Amelia's magic collar. He wanted an end to this and he wouldn't let his fear of an enchanted. “I'll lick all of your feet clean. Anything to get me out of here.”

Everyone felt the satisfied smile behind the horned golden mask “Good choice.”

Arthur couldn't help but cringe away as the horned cultist lifted her feet up to his face, toes first. A pair of feet were placed on the back of his head, pushing it forward slightly and removing the option of pulling away. Metaphorically gritting his teeth, Arthur opened his mouth and began worshipping the disgusting feet of the cultist before him. Reluctantly, he used his tongue to explore every nook and cranny of the feet: between the toes, under the nails, in the depths of any wrinkle. The mixture of grime and sweat coating the foot flesh was removed by his mouth, the gross substance entering his body. The cultists teased and taunted as he worked, humiliating him and heightening his sense of dread, knowing that he would have to clean their feet too.

“Not bad, dog” The horned cultist admired the job Arthur had done on her now washed feet, now coated in a light layer of saliva rather than sweat. She switched seats with the next cultist along, allowing her to have her feet tended to.

Cleaning all nine pairs of feet was an absolute slog for Arthur. He felt utterly disgusted after consuming so such foot sweat and toejam, filth that had spent weeks accumulating being eaten in a matter of hours. Soon enough, he found himself face to foot with the still clean feet of the horned cultist, having performed a full cycle of torturous foot worship. Admittedly, it was somewhat satisfying to see a job well done, in spite of the grisly details that job involved.

“There. All of your feet are clean now. Can I go free?” Arthur asked. All he wanted right now was a glass of water to reduce the disgustingly sour, cheesy flavour that stubbornly remained in his mouth, a reminder of his latest ordeal. A stray thought ran through his head, thinking about how he was glad their feet weren't as terrible as Amelia's had been.

“Do these feet look clean to you?” The horned cultist answered his question with one of her own, her tone of voice was thick with challenge.

“Yes. They look very clean! You promised you would release me!” Arthur was taken aback by her response. How foolish he was to believe in escape.

“Are you kidding? These feet are filthy!” The horned cultist exclaimed, laughing evilly. The rest of the cultists laughed too. The horned cultist clicked her fingers and Arthur was filled with horror. Before his very eyes, each pair of feet began visibly sweating. The grime and dirt returned magically, transforming the feet back to their prior state in a matter of several seconds. The stench also made a comeback, yet was seemingly stronger, more potent than before.

“N-no. No way. How!?” Arthur was disgusted, suffering once more under the powerful odour of nine pairs of freshly dirty, reeking feet.

“Magic of course! You should have known that the followers of the 'demoness of odour' would possess such abilities. No matter how much you lap at our feet, we will never allow them to be clean, you will never be free Arthur, a toy for Raeariel and her servants” The horned cultist explained this gleefully, snapping her fingers once more. The level of stench grew stronger still, reaching near inhuman levels. The feet made their move on Arthur's helpless head, launching him into a new level of torment.

It was in this moment, that Arthur realised he had failed.

A searing light shone from the blue gem embedded into Arthur's silver collar. “W-what is this?” The horned cultist spoke, fear seeping into her voice for the first time since pledging loyalty to Raeariel.

Feeling strange sensations overtake his body, centring on the collar and spreading outwards. Suddenly his head was no longer big enough to remain sticking out of the box. Arthur fell into the abyss that his body had occupied moments before, placing him in a pit of blackness, the only light coming from the hole where his head had been.

“Where is the prisoner!?” The horned cultist shouted with rage, unaware of what had happened due to being blinded by the bizarre blue light.

“I don't know! He just disappeared!” Shouted one of the un-horned cultists, a sentiment echoed by all of them in similar words.

“Find him!” The leader ordered.

Although, one of the cultists had shielded her eyes from the light, therefore witnessing exactly what had happened to Arthur. “Wait” She said, garnering the attention of everyone.

“What is it? This had better be important” The horned cultist told her impatiently.

“I know where he is” The cultist who wasn't blinded said, pointing to the box where Arthur had been stationed for his torture.

“He clearly isn't in there” Another cultist scoffed.

“He is” The attentive cultist insisted “Take a look inside.”

Gathering around the box, the horned cultist took the lead and unlocked the lid of the box, lifting it up and bathing the inside in torchlight.

Cowering at the bottom of the box, now many times smaller than before, was Arthur. If he had felt fear before, it reached a new high as he gazed up at the now giant golden masks of the cultists. Their eyes, the only parts of their faces that were actually visible to onlookers, were alight with both amusement and hunger.

“Hello Arthur. You almost gave us the slip with that shrinking spell of yours” The horned cultist chuckled at the adventurer's ill luck. “Unless... it was not your own spell? Perhaps that trinket around your neck is one of the many magical items of Amelia? That makes sense. For someone who hunts demons, her level of sadism is rather demonic.”

“Now girls” The leader seemed to have decided what to do with Arthur “Raeariel will be greatly interested in a shrunken slave. So, let's get as much pleasure out of him as possible.” Raising her leg high, the horned cultist stepped into the box, planting her awfully stinky feet right next to Arthur.

The tiny reacted violently, diving out of the way. But even though he escaped physical contact with the feet, the smell wasn't something that he could get away from. The other cultists copied the actions of their leader, stepping into the box. Soon enough, it became a tight squeeze for them and the space that Arthur could avoid touching the sweaty feet became non-existent. A foot eventually caught him, trapping him underneath its warm sole. He vaguely heard a click from above, another spell from the horned cultist, and the feet became stinkier. So stinky that the tiny man's eyes began watering freely as the odour emanating from all of the feet around him stung his eyes.

Days later, after many lengthy torture sessions consisting of nothing but the sweating, stinking feet of countless cruel cultists, it was time for Arthur to finally come face to face with the demoness that he originally came here in search of.

Overseeing all of his torment was a horned cultist. Because of the mask, Arthur was unsure if it was the same horned cultist that had captured him. Sometimes, there were multiple horned cultists participating in his suffering, confirming that there were multiple members of the higher class within the cult. Upon the event of Arthur shrinking, many more cultists started turning up to his cell, eager to gain favour within the cult by forcing the tiny to endure the terrible stench they had created.

Each day the odour from the numerous cultist feet grew more potent, eliciting further misery from Arthur. His tortures didn't just feature endless sniffing of gigantic feet, often he was made to worship the feet for hours on end under the threat of more spells being cast to make their feet smellier. Obviously, his new size made the worshipping of feet a monumental task, as well as making him a novelty to torturers in the dungeon and their foul smelling feet. The other poor souls imprisoned here had their suffering temporarily diminished as the cultists would flock to Arthur's cell, leaving disgusting feet in no short supply for the tiny man.

Then, one morning weeks after he shrunk, Arthur woke up in a different manner than he had become accustomed to. His wake up routine recently had consisted of being smothered by dozens of sweaty feet, ensuring that he was being dominated by feet from the moment he woke up to the moment he drifted once more into semi-peaceful unconsciousness. Even his dreams were haunted by his experiences in the dungeon of Raeariel's temple, nightmares where he was smushed under a giant foot whilst golden masked women laughed and taunted him. This morning however, he woke up of his own accord, groggily looking up at four cultists in golden horned masks staring down at him.

“The time is now, our little footslut” One of the four horned cultists said, tones of both anticipation and disappointment “Our mistress has commanded for us to bring you before her. Say your prayers to whatever gods you worship, the great Raeariel knows of your disrespect and is eager to meet you.”

Another horned cultist then reached into the open box which had once been a piece of bondage equipment used in his torture, now serving as his prison, and grabbed his tiny body in her hand. At his size, there was no way that he could possibly resist considering the incredible difference in strength.

Fully expecting to be placed underfoot and stomped hundreds of times on the journey to Raeariel's chamber but was pleasantly surprised when they simply marched out of his open cell, with him still contained in a new prison of fingers. It was interesting to see what the rest of the temple looked like outside of the one room he'd been in since his arrival days ago.

The dungeon itself looked just as Arthur had imagined it. His cell had been located in one long, wide corridor sporting many more cells that he assumed were exactly the same as his own, judging by the layout and spacing between the doors. Sounds came from the other cells, the same sounds that no doubt could have been heard from his cell when he was still full sized and audible. Begs of protest from men and women alike, the feminine voices of cultists only taunting or laughing in response, reminding the prisoners that this was their place now, that their existence would consist of nothing but torment under stinky female feet.

Reaching the end of the corridor with the cells, the dungeon opened up into a huge room. It had a large set of stairs that led up to the ground floor of the temple, torch sconces placed along the wall. He felt the eyes of the several un-horned cultists in the room, staring at him longingly in the hand of his captor, thinking about all the things that they wished to do with him in the name of their unholy mistress.

Up the stairs, the previously unseen ground floor unveiled itself. It seemed that this floor functioned as the living quarters and dining quarters for the occupants of the temple. Going off of the number of beds with belongings on the cabinets beside them, there were more women in Raeariel's cult than Arthur first thought. It was crazy of him to come here only, even a small group of them had been more than enough to take him out. How would Amelia fare?

For the most part, the ground floor was empty. A couple cultists lounged around here and there, presumably the lazy ones because they paid no attention to the four high ranking cultists transporting a prisoner. In the back corner of the building was a spiral staircase, which the group ascended. Arthur imagined that there were more stairs to the next floor than just this set, because of how many lived here and required easy access to the first floor.

This floor provided a quick, streamlined path to the final set of stairs. There were far less rooms on this floor, which is where the majority of the cultists were. It appeared that these rooms were rooms of worship, filled with un-horned cultists listening to horned cultists. They were too involved in what was happening inside the room to notice the retinue. Prisoners had been dragged up out of the dungeon and were on full display, naked men and women alike begging the matching gold faces of the cultists for mercy. As Arthur's group passed the entrance to one room of worship, the cultists were all removing their sandals, giggling uncontrollably. While Arthur did feel sorry for such prisoners, he couldn't help but worry about his own situation, one that had to be far worse. The staircase up to the open roof was grand, torches set in the midst of entangled black spires twisting through from underneath, following the path that the stairs made up to the roof. Atop the roof, was the structure Arthur had seen days before on his approach, where the spires that twisted and distorted the architecture below culminated to form the large room on the roof. Even as one not attuned to magic, Arthur could feel the evil, oppressive presence of the being known as Raeariel. The strong stink of demoness feet was tangible even outside of her throne room. That did not bode well, with regard to what he had been put through thus far. Thanks to the mass of clouds that gathered above the temple, the entire rooftop was darkened by shadow.

Stopping just outside of the opening to the structure, the four cultists knelt down. “Oh great Raeariel!” They shouted in perfect unison, evidently having done so many times “Let us bask in your stink! We bring you an offering, in order to prove our worth to you.”

Tense moments of silence passed. Until a sultry, commanding voice spoke “Enter, my servants, show me what you have brought.” All this talk was customary. The demoness knew exactly what her servants had brought, she had made the request for them to do so.

Upon hear the order, the small procession of elite cultists proceeded forwards, entering the black arch leading to the throne room of their leader. Moving inside the structure, Arthur found the inside to be well lit, illuminated the grinning figure at the back of the room.

Raeariel sat on a black throne, made to give her maximum comfort. She was completely nude, every inch of her flawless crimson skin on show. To describe the demoness starting from the top would be to start with her stark black horns. They jutted out of her temples and went backwards over the top of her hairless red head and curved back around to face forwards, just below ear level. On the topic of ears and hair, Raeariel had short pointed ears and absolutely no hair on her body. Her large eyes were a pair of abysses, completely back and easy to get lost in. High cheekbones framed an angular, elegant nose located in the exact centre of her face, leading down to a set of full, black lips containing a mouth of sharp, white canines. Under her face was a huge pair of breasts, each tipped by a dark nipple. Her body was a mix of athletic and curvaceous, boasting the best traits of both body types. All the down down her long legs, past her thick thighs and muscular calves were her feet. They were massive, and would have been even if Arthur wasn't tiny.

As they got closer, it became clear that Raeariel wasn't average sized. If she were to stand, she looked like she would be around 8 feet tall. Those big red feet of her were much larger than any of the feet that Arthur had to endure thus far, with an inhumanly strong stink to boot. Even outside of the throne room it had been unpleasant, inside it was like being surrounded by unwashed, magically enhanced feet all over again. He dreaded the idea of going anywhere near them. From this angle he could only she the tops and her thick, crimson toes. She was wiggling them nonchalantly, strings of thick sweat stretching and breaking between them as she did so. Crowning each bulbous head was a black toenail with a point, not quite as long as her equally black, pointed fingernails however. Currently Raeariel had her legs extended and crossed at the ankles.

The cultist holding Arthur held out her hands and presented the tiny man to the being that she served. Raeariel gazed at Arthur with a wicked smile on her face, nodding slowly after a few seconds of appreciation. “Excellent!” The demoness' voice boomed. “You have brought me a fine gift. You said that this is the one who thought himself capable of slaying me?”

“That's right mistress. He came here with the intention of ending your life.”

Uproarious laughter sounded as Raeariel opened her mouth wide. “Look where you are now, slayer wannabe. Tiny and utterly at my mercy. Tell me, which of you knows a shrinking spell?”

“None of us, mistress. There is a magical collar around his neck which activated whilst he was being tortured in the dungeon. The collar is what caused him to shrink, as far as we can tell.”

Raeariel stroked her lips with her fingers, taking in the information. When a decision was made her arms reclaimed the armrests of the throne and her ankles uncrossed, planting themselves flat on the ground. “Very well. You. Follower of mine holding the pitiful, disrespectful moron who came here. Bring that worm over to me and place him at my feet.”

The cultist had to hold on tight as Arthur started struggling in her hands, not liking the suggestion of going anywhere near those big red peds. Considering how long it took the horned cultist to respond to the order, it seemed that the tiny man wasn't the only one burdened by the heavy stench of the demoness' feet.

Using either fear or reverence to motivate herself, the cultist moved forward, slowed down from inhaling the potent foot odour. Arthur whimpered with every step the cultist took, the act of merely breathing becoming more and more taxing the closer they got. He had thought that maybe his prior tortures at the feet of the cultists might have left him better able to tolerate extraordinary foot odour but the stink of Raeariel's feet even from a distance surpassed the combined feet of the cultists at their very worst.

The strong willed cultist bowed before Raeariel on her throne and deposited the unfortunate prisoner between the two parallel, huge big toes of the demoness before hastily retreating to as safe a distance as she dared, drawing a low chuckle of amusement from her mistress who was well aware of how pungent her unholy feet were.

Arthur looked up at Raeariel, meekly meeting her gaze slowly, his physical functions slowed by the smell which swamped his mind and made it difficult to think. “Tell me, tiny man, what is your name? No need to shout, I will hear you no matter how quietly you speak.”

“My name is Arthur.” You would think the voice of someone as pathetic as Arthur would tremble before someone like Raeariel, but somehow the fear he felt scared him into a calm mindset. He didn't know whether or not he should address this devilish being with a title. In the worst case scenario she would see it as showing further weakness than he had already shown in the dungeon. Even an amateur like Arthur knew that predators took full advantages of weakness and the demoness before him was exactly that, with a desire far more cruel than simple survival.

“Arthur.” She said it as if chewing a piece of meat, sampling the taste. “Good enough. I have decided to make you into my foot slave, Arthur. Your reduced size and link to the slayer Amelia interest me greatly, and my followers in the dungeon cannot seem to shut up about how much fun you are to torture. I expect you to follow my every command, no matter how difficult or disgusting it may seem because believe me, I can thing far worse for you in a heartbeat.”

In order to make sure that Arthur understood the point she was making, Raeariel raised her right foot. She held it above the tiny who fell to his knees as a stronger wave of stink hit him. For the first time, he got a look at her sole. It was just as red as the rest of her skin. Dozens of lines of wrinkles decorated the arch of the wide sole. The ball and heel were smooth and particularly meaty. All of the flesh was dripping with sweat and giving off a mist-like steam. He had felt the heat somewhat with both soles flat on the floor nearby, but now one was hovering over him he soon found the air to be uncomfortably warm.

“To achieve a smell of this magnitude, a powerful follower of mine would have to cast odour-enhancing spells on her feet for several years. You may have experienced something nearly half as strong in the dungeon when multiple pairs of magically enhanced feet teamed up to torment your senses. But this overwhelming stench that you're facing, this is only the natural state of my feet. There is no magic augmenting the smell of my feet, this is all me.”

With a click of her fingers, Raeariel summoned a foot stool into existence within reach of her long legs. Her foot descended onto Arthur and he screamed, making the demoness chuckle once again. Upon coming into contact with the foot, Arthur found the skin of his new mistress to be hot, the source of the heat that was warming the air. Because of the sweat and pressure placed on his body by the foot, he was pushed slightly into the surprisingly soft, supple skin and stuck to it, so when Raeariel lifted her foot he remained in place.

The giant foot came to rest on the new footstool. The cushioned surface was near solid and even the weight of a massive demonic foot did little to make the cushion give way. Flexing her sole, she tried to dislodge her new slave from the bottom of her foot. It only took a bit of effort, after all Raeariel had only wanted Arthur stuck there for the purpose of moving him.

Crashing into the hard surface of the footstool, Arthur sluggishly got to his feet. Spending time around the enormous feet and their equally enormous aroma had made him able to move more normally but did nothing to make the stench more tolerable.

“Lick my heel. Don't worry, we'll eventually move onto the rest of my delicious, sexy foot, but we're going to start your indefinite servitude with my heel.”

Arthur had no desire to do as she said. However what he did have was fear, fear of the consequences should he disobey the incredibly powerful being who now owned him. So he did it. He fell to all fours and crawled towards the huge foot, extended his tongue and bravely took a lick of Raeariel's heel. And it was far more terrible than he could have imagined. The taste of her reeking flesh and foot sweat was unreal. It was so potent that Arthur gagged on the pungent flavour and fell back, already beaten.

Raeariel sighed. “Looks like you're going to have to learn the hard way slave. Soon enough you'll be licking a far stinkier foot without hesitation, either that or slowly be driven insane by unfathomable foot odour. Let's try this again, shall we?”

She clicked her fingers and the smell grew stronger. The hot, humid air that he had adapted to just enough so that he could breathe semi-normally grew thicker and fouler, forcing him to take deep lungfuls of the sweat tainted air in order to stay conscious. Sure, he could let himself become asphyxiated by the demoness' foot but he knew that she would have an evil punishment ready to dish out were he to let that happen.

Arthur struggled, fighting against the repugnant atmosphere but obviously he wasn't quick enough because Raeariel clicked her fingers again and the stinky feet that were already rendering Arthur useless grew stinkier still.

The cultists shifted awkwardly. The stench was growing to be too much for them to handle, even at a distance that had once been safe. Raeariel noticed them inching backwards and grinned. “Ah, I almost forgot about you four. Thank you for delivering my new plaything to me, I shall see to it that you be rewarded. All of you are dismissed.”

Raeariel watched with interest, leaning forward to witness the scene on the footstool. When she saw Arthur manage enough strength to crawl up to her foot again and take enough lick, she thought he might have learned his lesson. She felt disappointment when he obeyed his instincts and listened to his screaming taste buds and didn't immediately follow it up with a second lick. “Looks like this might take a while. Don't worry slave, I have plenty of time. I don't mind waiting until my feet are stinkier than you ever believed possible. Just a small tip; the sooner you learn to fight your urges and endure the taste, the less awful my feet need to become.” To drive the point home she clicked her fingers twice, ramping up the stench twice as much as before. While Arthur was easily far past the point of breaking, it seemed like he wouldn't easily overcome his own senses even at his most desperate.

Amelia stood on a flat hilltop beside a frail, withered tree, overlooking the temple that Raeariel had made her own. She wore no helm and had her pitch black hair gathered up in a bun with a single stray lock of hair falling down to her face. It didn't block her vision, so the slayer made no attempt to fix it.

Behind Amelia stood over a dozen other warriors, mostly women, who were slayers training under her and finding out how to effectively take down inhuman threats. “Is everyone ready to do this?”

“Yes Amelia!” The warriors shouted as one.

Amelia grinned. “Excellent. Let's go show this stinky demon who's boss. Keep the plan in mind, you lot handle the cultists, I'll take care of the red bitch.” Drawing her sword, she pointed the sharp tip at their target. “Onwards! Move quickly but carefully, focus completely on speed only when we are spotted!”

The group moved cut across the landscape like a knife, reaching the temple in a matter of minutes. Shouts could be heard from within, the slayers had been spotted. Though it did not matter to Amelia. Together, they ploughed through the first line of defence hastily raised by the cultists before splitting into two groups. One group made to secure this floor followed by the dungeon, the other group along with Amelia proceeded up the stairs, mowing down all forms of resistance along the way.

Saving her strength, Amelia let her subordinates do most of the fighting. If her plan for dealing with the demoness went wrong, the fight would become rather troublesome indeed. Plus she had to keep an eye out for any tiny men wearing silver collars. The thought of the obsessed young man under her smelly foot brought a huge smile to her face.

As the group peeled apart, Amelia climbed the steps up to the roof alone. Outside of Raeariel's throne room were a pair of cultists wearing golden horned masks and wielding spears.

“Halt, slayer!” One of them yelled, both of them levelling the tips of their spears at Amelia's torso.

Amelia laughed loudly. “Do you two honestly think you can take me? Do you know who I am? I am the demon-slayer Amelia. Throw aside your weapons and get out of my way, in a few minutes your mistress will be defeated and I will be in charge here.”

The cultists looked at one another, hesitant to fight the sword wielding woman who was confidently strutting towards them. They shrugged and tossed their spears to the ground before backing up out of Amelia's way.

“Smart choice.”

Walking into the throne room, Amelia came face to face with the demoness of odour herself. The big red woman was sat in her throne with her big red feet up on a footstool, disinterested in the events occurring outside of her chamber. “Coming before me with no fear? I guess that means you are the notorious demon-slayer Amelia, here at last to take my life.”

Amelia smirked. “That's right, Rae. You're mine now.”

Raeariel boomed with laughter. “How cute. Do you not see what I have done to your subordinate? Does the sight not fill you with dread, knowing that you will soon join him in his fate?”

Raeariel gestured to her expansive crimson soles on the footstool that were displayed to Amelia. Somehow she hadn't noticed the shrunken man pressed tightly against the foot, lapping away dutifully despite the abhorrent odour and endless droplets of sweat being squeezed out of her smelly pores. The fact that he was able to stomach such vile flavours and odour was impressive, but it wasn't like he had a choice. His arms had tiny shackles that were chained to toe rings decorating the demoness' big toe and pinky toe. His legs were also shackled but together, a tight chain ran from his leg shackle and down the drenched sole, going around the heel to eventually attach to the iron anklet that Raeariel wore. The body of the tiny man was stretched taut by his unyielding bondage and he could do nothing but smell, kiss and lick the gross flesh that he was partially embedded in.

Smiling as she noticed the silver collar around his neck, Amelia recognised the man. “So that's where the little guy got to. I expected him to shrink and be tortured here, but I never imagined that he'd find his was to you and become your foot slave. I can't remember the poor sap's name, but I was looking forward to humiliating and tormenting him in my reeking boots when I found him. But this is much more hilarious! Maybe leaving him with you will be a better idea than what I originally intended.”

Arthur, hearing everything that Amelia said, starting sobbing. Not only did she not even remember his name, but now she was planning on letting Raeariel keep him? The one hope keeping Arthur going during the three months he had spent suffering in the service of Raeariel's feet was that Amelia would show up one day and save him. Sure, he'd have to serve her feet instead but anything was preferable than this!

“Leave him with me?” Raeariel's eyebrow would have been cocked had she possessed one. “Does that mean you intend to turn tail and leave me to my schemes for ruling this mortal world?”

“Nope. If all goes to plan, I will defeat you without having to actually kill you.” Amelia admitted, the hand not holding her sword slipped into one of her many pockets and retrieved something.

Raeariel chuckled. “How audacious of you, insolent human. Not only do you think yourself capable of slaying me, but you think you can beat me into submission too? Wiping you from existence is going to be fun.”

A red hand with five red fingers raised, aiming at Amelia with the intention of casting a spell. However Amelia wasn't about to let that happen. She raised the item in her hand, a gold ring with a large amethyst set into the band, and a purple beam of light fired from the gemstone, striking Raeariel.

Raeariel yelped in surprise as the beam absorbed her massive body entirely and sucked back into the gemstone. “Wow, that was simpler than I expected.” Amelia said to the now empty throne.

Bringing the ring up to her face, the demon-slayer grinned as she saw what was inside the gemstone. Imprisoned within the amethyst was Raeariel. The demoness looked dazed and confused. Then she lifted her foot and the two females saw that the tiny man had been sealed inside the gem with the demoness.

“Sorry little guy, whatever your name was, I really am.” Amelia said, not actually looking particularly apologetic. She spoke to him, even though the space within the gemstone was utterly cut off from the outside world. “But it does make me laugh, knowing that you're stuck in there with that sadistic demon, doomed to entertain her for the duration of her imprisonment. It's possible the two of you will never escape and will have to live together forever. Who better to keep big red company than her loyal foot slave?”

“Oh well!” Amelia exclaimed, ripping her sweaty bare foot out of her nasty old boot. She slid the ring onto her second toe, finding it to be a perfect fit, before wiggling those greasy toes in appreciation of the new piece of jewellery she now owned. How many women could boast of owning a ring that had a stinky demoness, inflicting potentially eternal suffering on a tiny man, imprisoned inside? Not many, that was for sure. With that thought in her head and a satisfied smile on her face, Amelia slipped her foot back into the foul smelling boot and began the journey back to the slayers guild, another quest complete.

Far away from most of civilisation, save for a few small villages, the Demon's Fist loomed, drenching the lands around in shadow depending on the time of day. Such a mountain range was famous, with many legends regarding its formation. Some tales claimed that a titanic demon dwelt beneath the surface of the land and one time it woke up, trying to escape the earthly prison with a punch so powerful that it immediately became exhausted and fell asleep. Another tale stated that the planet itself was a demon and it turned to stone in death, raising its fist up into the air.

As one might think, these tales were simple falsehoods. The Demon's Fist was a natural formation with no supernatural background. However some still believed in the mountain range's many legends and travelled there on some kind of pilgrimage, seeking to witness the impressive mounds of rock with their very own eyes.

So, thinking to take advantage of the pilgrims and adventurers visiting the mountain range, a mage obsessed with the collection of magic artefacts chose to have her museum built on the smallest of the mountains, the 'Perilous Pinky'.

Contrary to its name, the Perilous Pinky wasn't all that dangerous. As the smallest mountain, it was the only mountain that anyone sensible would consider building anything on. The Risky Ring was the second smallest and it was technically possible to construct a building on, but the shape and size of any structures would be highly limited and it just seemed like an all round bad idea. So the museum was constructed on the flattest part of the Perilous Pinky and opened to all, the mage putting her collection of various artefacts on display to the public for a modest fee.

Years after opening, business had slowed to almost nothing. At first, the 'Magical museum of the Demon's Fist' saw great success, with pretty much everyone coming to the mountain range stopping by, emptying their pockets to see and learn about the artefacts that had come into Vanessa Denforth's possession. Now, she spent most of her days depressed. Only getting a customer every few days.

Thanks to the isolated location, the target audience had experienced the place once or twice, then stopped going. The steady stream of visitors dried up. If only Vanessa had placed it in a more convenient location, closer to society. It was no surprise that many referred to her as eccentric.

If she had been totally alone, Vanessa might have died from boredom long ago, but fortunately (for her) she had someone sharing solitude with her. Todd.

Long ago, Todd was in love with Vanessa. She was less than interested in his affections and used him as a tool, making her life easier. Becoming her servant, he retrieved magical artefacts for her, helped her set up the museum and now basically attended to her at all times in their shared life at the museum. His love had waned somewhat and he would have left long ago if he could. Sadly, Todd had accidentally put on one of Vanessa's many artefacts: the ring of curses. It was a ring (obviously) that once you put on, couldn't be removed unless another person willingly removed it from you. The effect of the ring made the wearer more susceptible to curses; long lasting magic spells with negative effects. This susceptibility made it near effortless for Vanessa to control Todd, turning him into what was essentially an unwilling slave. At first he had planned to ask others to remove the ring for him, though Vanessa had enough foresight to place a curse on Todd that made him unable to mention the ring, meaning that only he and Vanessa knew of its existence and there was no chance of removing it.

On the day that would become the worst day of Todd's life, he had spent the morning sitting at the front desk, whistling a tune. He would be reading a book, but Vanessa had confiscated his books for an entire month because he failed to properly polish her shoes. He had done a good job, though when Vanessa was in a bad mood, her eye for flaws either imagined things, or she just made up an excuse to punish her servant. As a mage, she could have used a spell on her shoes to make them sparkle, but she much preferred using him. As was mostly the case, there had not been a single customer.

At around midday, something finally occurred. Vanessa burst into the lobby after coming down the stairs which were in a room to the left of the lobby. Todd jumped in surprise as she entered the room. He hoped that she wasn't here to punish him.

“Todd!” She yelled. Vanessa was known for her yelling “What do you think you are doing!?”

“Manning the front desk Mistress!” Todd leapt from his chair and bowed with fake respect to appease her. The fact that the woman he once felt unrequited love for made him call her 'Mistress' and bow in her presence would be extremely humiliating, if only there were anyone to see it.

“And when was the last time you swept the floor?”

Shit. Todd had forgotten to sweep the floor even once that morning, a task that he was supposed to do every hour, regardless of how busy the museum was. In the museum's youth, this led to much punishment on account of how busy Todd had been keeping the customers happy, but now the task was mostly a way to pass the time of his monotonous life. On a bad day, he sometimes forgot. “I... haven't Mistress.”

“Not even once!” Vanessa was angry at her servant's incompetence. “I am not happy with you Todd, not happy in the slightest. If I were not in a hurry to leave, I would spend plenty of time devising a terrible consequence for you, but today you will be spared.”

Todd was relieved. The absence of Vanessa was a rare treat. It wouldn't be quite as enjoyable this time however, as Vanessa caught him outside of the museum on her return the last time she left and the punishment still sent shivers down his spine when he recalled it.

“Before I go, there's still one thing left to do” Vanessa raised her hand and pointed at her servant, chanting some words. The tips of her fingers started glowing green. Wisps of the same colour twisted through the air towards Todd, homing in on his chest. As they made contact, his chest absorbed the wisps, sending cold sensations through his body. Vanessa was laying a complex curse on him. Soon the glow faded away, ending the casting of the curse.

A sly smile formed on the Vanessa's face. The only time she seemed to smile was when she had the opportunity to torment Todd. “Aren't you going to ask me what the curse is?”

Playing into her hand to avoid irritating her, Todd asked “What curse did you cast on me, Mistress?”

“Remember the punishment from last time?” Vanessa asked devilishly, knowing that there was no way he could forget “Well, I made a curse that would make you relive those exact same sensations if you were to step outside of the museum, with the effect becoming more intense the further you go. I wouldn't recommend going outside Todd, with the amount of giant eagles around here that would drag you off to their nest as a source of warmth, the torment would be maddening. You'd have to wait in that nest, stuck being tortured by the curse until I come back and track you down, after which I will have to administer yet another punishment on top of what I already owe you.”

“I will not go outside Mistress. Not even one step” Todd promised hurriedly, no doubt in his mind that he would obey.

“Good. Bye bye now Todd, I'll be away for a few days, maybe even a couple weeks. Make sure to keep the place clean and treat any customers as you would treat me. If you ruin our impeccable customer service record, I'll think up a fate worse than death for you” Vanessa promised this with such a light, tender tone that anyone might think she were joking, but Todd knew all too well that she was serious.

Ring Ring. The door caused the bell to sound as it opened. Finished with her brief goodbyes, Vanessa departed, leaving Todd in charge of her precious museum. He stared longingly at the outside world in the brief time that the door remained open, cursing himself for being so careless and allowing her to take away one of the few freedoms he had here. With the mention of his latest torture so fresh, the horrid memory plagued his mind.

It had been weeks since they had a customer, meaning that the devious mage had plenty of time to think up a special way to torment him. Casting a few spells, Vanessa made it so that Todd was naked and spread eagled, magic paralysing his limbs in that position. Now immobile, Vanessa created several illusions of herself. Illusions were a fragile creation: they dispersed with any form of physical damage that they took and they couldn't inflict any actual damage themselves, just the sensation of it. This made them perfect for torture. Although Vanessa was more creative than regular torturers and rather than having her illusions beat Todd's immobile body repeatedly, she had a better idea.

Positioning the illusions at his most sensitive spots, she made them start tickling him madly. Vanessa herself behind his head, she conducted the lengthy session of tickle torture whilst dangling her bared, unwashed feet in his face, finding much enjoyment in his suffering. Todd was rapidly driven to a state of agonising hysteria by the grinning copies of his tormentors, scrabbling their sharp nails on his sensitive spots without tiring. His feet, his thighs, his stomach and his armpits were the prime locations, with the real Vanessa using her smelly toes to tickle his neck whilst also letting him sample their odour. Not that he could do much breathing through his nose, as his mouth was wide with uncontrollable laughter. An illusion for each armpit, two illusions on either side of his torso to cover more ground simultaneously, one illusion on each side for his thighs and six illusions for both feet, three on each foot. Being the place that Todd was most ticklish, Vanessa ensured there were extra on his feet, sixty nails exploring every inch of his tender feet, even the toes, which Vanessa used magic to spread and allow them to get at the hard to reach skin between. This continued for a full day as they had nothing better to do, all the while Vanessa was probing his mind, using magic to absorb all of the torturous tickling which she would use to turn into a loop of torment for his later curse.

Often having to massage her feet upon request, Vanessa took it a step further after dismissing her illusions. She had Todd worship her feet with his mouth until they stopped smelling and were clean, under the threat of restarting his torture. He did so without hesitation, not wanting to be forced to endure any more tickling.

Even thinking about such a terrible experience mentally exhausted Todd. He felt suddenly tired and despite knowing that Vanessa would strongly disapprove, he fell asleep at the desk.

Ring ring.

“Hello? Hello? Wake up!”

Raising his head from the desk that poorly served as his pillow, Todd woke to the sound of a voice he had never heard before waking him up. Jumping awake as he caught sight of the stranger, he spoke his rehearsed welcome without even thinking “Welcome to the Magical museum of the Demon's Fist! How can I help you?”

Standing in the lobby was a beautiful elf girl with flowing, wavy, dark blonde hair. From the sides of her head, a cute pair of elongated ears emerged. Her pale, elegant skin went well with her gorgeous hair. Unusually for an elf, a race who tend to dress in the finest, most expensive clothing, she was dressed the same way as any typical hiker. It struck Todd that she was probably one of the younger, more practical elves that strayed from the traditions that the older generations stubbornly kept alive. Even more strangely, she was smiling warmly. Elves often kept a cold and aloof attitude around anyone they did not view as equals, which meant anyone who wasn't an elf with some exceptions. And here this elf girl was, smiling as if he were her equal. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him as an equal.

“You sound like a golem” She observed, chuckling “Are you really a human?”

Grinning stupidly and rubbing the back of his head, Todd relaxed “Worry not, I am human. I've just been run ragged recently, would you believe that we don't get many visitors here?”

“I can believe that” She laughed again: a musical sound “What kind of moron would build a museum here?” After saying this, she realised who she might have been talking to and blushed.

“Sorry” The elf girl apologised sheepishly “I didn't mean to insult you, I just kinda blurted it out.”

“Oh no!” Todd was quick to reassure her. His isolation had apparently made him very eager to please attractive females who weren't so prone to enslaving him “I don't own the place. I just work here.”

Relieved, the elf had another question “You... work here? Excuse me for saying so, but how exactly does one go about getting a job in a museum in the middle of nowhere?”

“I was working for the owner before she made the crazy decision to run a museum on the Demon's Fist. I somewhat regret choosing to stay by her side” Todd had no intention of telling the cute elf that he had once been in love with Vanessa. She delighted in telling the tale to the rare customers, regaling them with the embarrassing tale of how he served her because of a love she would never return.

Again, the elf girl laughed “You're funny. I'd ask why you stay here, but I doubt the answer is very pretty.”

“You'd be right” He grimaced.

“So” Cutting to business “Can I get a tour of the museum or what?”

Remembering that he had a job to do, Todd put himself in the mindset of museum attendant. “Entry is one hundred gold pieces and comes with a tour by me. I'm Todd by the way.”

“Wow that's a hefty sum for a tour. I suppose it comes with the area and contents of the museum itself. I'm Lyra.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, even though it was just the two of them “Hey Todd, in your honest opinion, is the tour worth one hundred gold?”

“Not in the slightest” He admitted with a smirk. If Vanessa ever found out he said something like that, she'd slaughter him.

“Wonderful!” Lyra said with amusement “I've come this far. I'll take one ticket please Todd” She slung a pouch onto the desk “There's a hundred in there, feel free to count it.”

Peeking inside to confirm it was indeed actual gold coins, he trusted that there were enough inside “I'll take your word for it” He winked at her. Todd could be charming when Vanessa wasn't around, draining all personality from him with just her presence.

Handing over a ticket to Lyra, Todd gestured to the double doors leading to the museum itself. “Not yet” She said, going and taking a seat on the couch in the lobby “I'm beat and need some rest.”

“Sure” Todd said, sitting next to her “There's no rush.”

A brief silence descended on the two of them. It was a nice silence though, they were getting along rather well. Sitting next to her, Todd could see that Lyra possessed the typical body type of the elven people, in spite of being such an atypical elf. Tall and slim. Long legs. And, as he would soon find out, long elegant feet.

Swinging her booted feet up into Todd's no longer empty lap, she eyed him curiously. She sensed a submissive aura to this human, one that had built up over years of abuse. “Hey Todd. I've been walking for so so long trying to get here. Would you be a dear and rub my feet for me? I promise I'll give you a glowing review.”

Todd was faced with a dilemma. He didn't overly want to rub Lyra's feet, after all she had just admitted to walking a long way and no doubt that they would be sweaty. On the other hand, she was the first person to show him genuine kindness in so long and he wanted to please, wanted to make her happy. Vanessa had screwed that compulsion into him rather effectively it seemed. Plus there was the possibility that Lyra might mischievously slot a complaint into the 'complaints and complements' box which she had obviously spotted, unaware of the hell she would damn him to.

“You know what Lyra? I'd be happy to” Managed to smile, he laid hands on the smooth brown leather of her boots, unbuckling them. He felt slightly grossed out as he did so, being able to feel the warmth of her feet through the material.

“Yay” She said, overjoyed and kicked her feet happily. Lyra loved having her feet touched.

Pulling off the boots one at a time, Todd struggled to keep a straight face as the unmistakable smell of sweaty feet entered his nostrils. Todd kept smiling, enduring the bitter, vinegary aroma of Lyra's stinky feet and put his hands on those reddened soles firmly. “Best customer service ever. Treat my feet well Todd, and you might just earn a kiss from a hot elf girl” She returned his wink from earlier, biting her lip flirtatiously.

His heartbeat thundering in his chest, Todd found new resolve. Without meaning to, he was quickly falling for Lyra. He wanted to ask her to take him with her, to take him outside and away from this terrible place. But thanks to Vanessa's newest curse, that was impossible. Well, maybe not impossible but being immobile and tickled constantly wouldn't make him the best company. Unless Lyra was secretly similar to Vanessa of course, a chilling unlikely possibility which wouldn't stop running around in his head.

Applying attention to Lyra's feet with the best of his abilities, Todd managed to get Lyra moaning with pleasure. Thanks to being forced to rub Vanessa's feet countless times, he had become quite skilled. He marvelled at the size of her elvish feet. They were large and slender, Todd wouldn't usually attribute beauty to a pair of feet, but he had to admit that Lyra's feet were attractive, ignoring the stench. Her toenails were neat and painted silver, sitting atop the cute heads of her long toes. There were mild callouses on her sole, on the ball, heel and out-step, but beyond that and the sweaty flesh, Lyra had immaculate feet.

With no small thanks to the encouragement Lyra had given him, Todd managed to power through the foul scent and offered his rubbing skills to Lyra's feet for a whole hour, easing the tension and soreness from her soles and toes. Her feet had shared their moisture with his hands and now his hands likely smelt no different.

“Wow, you've earned one great review!” Lyra exclaimed, breaking Todd out of the obedient trance he had fallen under. She giggled seeing this, lifting her foot and booping him on the nose with her big toe, giving the tip of his nose a damp kiss.

“What can I say, I'm the best damn tour guide in the area” Todd joked, wanting to wash his hands but not wanting to offend the wonderful visitor.

Todd slid Lyra's still warm boots back on for her and buckled them up like a good servant. She swung her legs off of his lap and back to the floor, standing up and looking refreshed. Standing next to her, Todd found that he was a little shorter than the guest, much as most humans are shorter than elves.

“Go on, lead the way” Lyra had become more commanding than before, nodding towards the door “I think you've earned that kiss Todd, but it'll have to wait until after the tour.”

“Then what are we waiting for, let's go!” Todd said with an equal amount of seriousness and humour.

“I like you Todd” Lyra said, rubbing his head a little more patronisingly than he liked, laughing.

Todd led the way to the double doors and pushed them both open, exaggerating the moment to make Lyra laugh.

“Now, where to first, Miss Lyra?” Todd put on his best butler voice.

Matching his butler voice by mimicking the most upper class elf woman she had ever met, she joined in “I want you to show me everything servant.”

As per her request, Todd showed her every magical artefact on display in the main area of the museum, explaining what each one did and the stories of both tragedy and comedy that went along with each. He was good at this, better than he was at rubbing feet. For years, this had been his primary job here and he had become something of an expert. From the 'phoenix tree' to the 'shrinking wand', the 'bag of carriage seeds' to the 'knife of unspeakable pain', the 'beauty mirror' to an authentic dragon egg. Lyra was amazed and astonished by everything Todd showed her, greedily drinking the information he provided like hot chocolate. There was no doubt that the young tour guide gave his lovely customer the best tour he had ever given.

Stopping in the centre of the room, Todd was nearing the limit of his vocal cords. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken for so long without halt, spurred on by Lyra. “So, what do you think, worth your one hundred gold?”

Lightly touching his arm affectionately, Lyra smiled warmly “I think you undersold it just a little Todd, your employer would have been one hundred gold poorer if I were any other girl. I'd say the fantastic foot rub alone was worth the hundred gold.” She leaned in and put her mouth near Todd's ear. He heard the sticky sound of saliva as her full lips separated “But I said show me everything Todd. There's still a room I haven't seen, isn't there?”

Shocked, Todd backed away. She shouldn't know of that room “S-s-s-sorry Lyra. I can't show y-you that. No way.”

Pouting and giving the human the best puppy dog eyes she could muster, Lyra questioned Todd “But whyyyy? Come on Todd, I'll pay double, maybe even give you more than just a kiss.”

Tempting as it was, Todd knew that Vanessa had placed excessive security on the door to the private collection of artefacts that she kept. As careless as she could be, Vanessa knew that some magic items were far too dangerous to keep on display in public. In the private section were items capable of mass destruction, items holding monsters prisoner that would wreak havoc if they were somehow let loose, items that had the power to completely dominate the mind of another. Some of these magic items she had acquired in her quest to grow her collection, some were given to her to keep safe, judging her worthy of doing so because she was a powerful mage with a vault that could protect them. “Mistress Vanessa will kill me.”

“You call her 'Mistress'?” Lyra teased, scoffing. Todd blushed, not meaning to have let that slip out. “Besides, I thought you trusted me Todd?”

“Lyra...” Todd started, choosing his words carefully “I can't. Mistress Vanessa would know, she has spells set up. Possibly dangerous spells. She's awful Lyra, she's put me through so much misery the past few years.” He let his head droop in shame.

Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly “Hey, hey. Come one Todd, it's okay. So you can't show me the rest, is that right?”

“Yes” Todd confirmed.

“Oh well” Lyra removed her hand and turned on her heel, walking away “It's been fun Todd, but I'll be going now.”

Todd felt disappointed to see her leave. His refusal had ruined the mood. He almost regretted his decision, but knew it was the right choice. Vanessa might never have ended his torment if he had broken one of the most important rules she had set.

“Only joking” Lyra said, snatching up an artefact from its display and spinning around. Sticking out her tongue, she aimed it at Todd. It was the shrinking wand.

Holding his hands up defensively, Todd backed up “Whoa hold on Lyra, put that down, you don't know what it does!”

“Of course I know what it does silly, you told me” Lyra grinned “In fact, I'm going to use it on you. I'm going to break you Todd, then you'll show me the rest of the artefacts, the ones I want to see the most. And if this doesn't do it, then I have a whole museum of powerful magic items to use on you!”

After giving her ultimatum, Lyra unleashed a beam of blue light at her confused tour guide, watching joyfully as he diminished in size. From his regular height, Todd shrunk alarmingly fast, the beam stopping when he reached only three inches in height. His clothing and the blasted ring shrunk with him.

So surprised by Lyra's sudden change of heart, Todd couldn't move. Everything was going wrong and Vanessa was going to murder him. He had to somehow stop Lyra from getting into the private room, but that seemed impossible given the disadvantage that the wand had given him. Lyra was giant now, still wearing her grin that looked more evil with every second, the floor shaking for Todd as the soles of her boots collided with the floor. Standing over his tiny form, she spoke “Hello there, little Todd. I think it's time you and I had some fun. But first, I promised you a kiss.”

Crouching down, Lyra picked up Todd and brought him to her face. “No no no Todd. These clothes just won't do” Giggling, she tore off his clothes effortlessly with her free hand, rendering him naked. “Much better. Pucker up.” Doing so herself, Lyra prepared to give the tiny the biggest kiss he would ever receive. Her giant, fleshy, saliva coated lips smacked as she planted a kiss on Todd that enveloped most of his body, wetting him with saliva from on her lips inside her mouth. Todd couldn't deny that it felt good, but that hardly seemed to matter when considering the torment Lyra was planning.

Moving over to the 'seat of comfort' Lyra took a seat and was pleased to note that the chair was well named. “I could get used to this” She said to herself as she held Todd captive with one hand and removed one of her boots with the other.

“Phew. I don't know how you managed to keep such a brave face earlier Todd. You're tougher than you look. My feet reek today. You probably don't know, but it's damn hot outside and like I've said I have walked so damn far to come here. Here, I'll let you get up close and personal” She shoved Todd into her flushed sole, slamming him into the sweaty flesh. He was overcome with the cheesy smell of her feet as she didn't let up, rubbing him hard into her foot. A few minutes of this later she let go, laughing at how Todd stuck to the bottom of her bare, stinky foot thanks to a mixture of sticky saliva and slimy sweat.

“Oh this is so perfect Todd. You're stuck to my sole, helpless and at my mercy. You know what? I'm gonna go for a walk outside, and you're coming with me.” Before he could say anything to stop her, Lyra plunged her foot back into the hot, humid atmosphere of her walking boots. Fear filled him as he tensed up, not ready to feel the effects of Vanessa's curse. As soon as Lyra stepped outside, he would be tortured by the curse, tortured under a big, smelly elf foot.

Skipping past all of the displays, Lyra went over the information Todd had given her, thinking about all the things she could do to him if he still refused her after this. Grabbing a pair of bracers from a different stand, she put them on. The 'bracers of stamina', they would give the wearer limitless stamina and tireless muscles. Lyra planned on going for a long walk indeed, eagerly awaiting the feeling of Todd writhing and breaking under her foot.

Ring ring.

Stepping out into the sunlight, Lyra took in the sights. In her head, she thought out a route, a route that would normally be difficult for an amateur hiker, one consisting of a long, steep mountain trail. Thanks to the bracers of stamina, she had no doubt that she was capable of doing it. She wondered why Todd wasn't struggling under her sole yet. Perhaps he really was tough. “Whatever” She said aloud “He'll break soon enough, it can't be pleasant down there.”

Lyra was right. It really wasn't pleasant in her boot, trapped underneath her massive sweating sole. But feeling each individual step his new tormentress took, Todd was unable to respond. The ring on his finger lit up with orange light and he felt a burning from under the metal band. His limbs had forced themselves to spread under the power of the curse, his toes forcing themselves apart. Then the tickling kicked in. Laughing like a lunatic, it felt like all of Vanessa's illusions had come back and were tormenting him anew. Being under a giant foot with an open mouth wasn't the best idea, Todd soon enough found himself choking down fresh footsweat as Lyra began perspiring with the combination of heat and exercise. It seemed that the farther away Lyra got from the museum, the tickling sensations grew more intense, pairing well with the other sensory torture of breathing in Lyra's foot stink directly from her foot. If only Vanessa could see her servant now, she would enjoy witnessing his despair.

The further Lyra walked, the more irate she became. “He should be fighting with all his might under my foot. Why is he so still? All I can feel is his head moving. I don't understand!” The elf girl thought out loud, causing some of the mountain goats chewing on grass nearby to lazily lift their heads and glance at the beautiful woman having an outburst.

Stomping heavily the rest of the way, Lyra tried her best to increase the torment of the tiny under her foot as much as she could, putting more and more pressure on his tiny body. She still had no idea of the true torture he was going through. The next few hours consisted largely of this; the giant elf trying harder and harder to break the unwilling boot prison, and the prisoner's own silent suffering, unable to combat the effect of the curse. Thankfully, as Lyra reached the end of her hiking trail and turned back around, the tickling lessened in intensity. It was still unbearable, but less so.

Ring ring.

As soon as Lyra returned to the museum, she was surprised to suddenly feel Todd squirming around under her sole. “Oh so now you decide to break? It's about damn time” She said to him, even though he couldn't hear her. She found the seat of comfort once again and sat down, pulling off the bracers of stamina and discarding them.

A couple undone buckles later and Lyra was sliding off her boot. She found Todd exactly where she'd left him although oddly enough he was spread eagled now, not in the position he'd been in when originally stuck there. Her foot was significantly more sweaty, so much so that she almost felt bad for the poor tour guide. But she needed something from him.

Leaning towards her foot, Lyra made a show of inhaling her own foot scent deeply. “Eww. So disgusting. It must have been hellish for you in there, right? I don't know what kind of iron will you have to be able to remain so still for so long Todd, but don't think I didn't feel you snap and squirm under my big smelly foot at the end there. And guess what? Unless you give me what I want, you're gonna go through that again. Your world is gonna get stinkier and sweatier until you give in to me Todd.”

“MMMMMMMPPPPHHH” Todd screamed into the fleshy ball of her foot. His head had been buried in the sole and remained stuck there because of the heat and pressure.

Lyra laughed at the tiny's predicament “Easy Todd. I'll get you out, then you can spill all of the juicy secrets you want.” Grabbing him, she peeled Todd from the bottom of her foot. His nude body was coated in her footsweat, a warm sticky layer of foulness. Lyra placed Todd on the floor in front of the chair and rested her long bare foot next to him, unbuckling and removing the second boot. A second wave of heat and stink attacked the shrunken servant as the newly freed foot sat parallel to the first.

Amused and more than a little turned on by the situation, Lyra couldn't stop smiling at the sight of Todd cowering between her huge, slender feet; a massive wrinkled pink sole on either side of him. “So you have something to tell me?”

“YES!” Todd shouted “I'LL SHOW YOU THE PRIVATE ROOM! PLEASE LYRA, SHOW MERCY!”

“Mercy?” Lyra pulled a face, allowing Todd to see her thinking about it “Y'know what, I don't just want to see the private room any more Todd. I want more. If you want to be spared further torture under my stinky foot and allow you to show me the secrets of this museum, you have to lick the entirety of my feet clean.” As she made the demand, Lyra couldn't help but scrunch her soles in anticipation.

Coming to the realisation that Lyra had no idea about the curse he'd experienced under her foot, Todd saw he had no choice but to do as she said. Since showing her true nature, he'd found the attractive elf to be nothing but sadistic and something told him that if she knew about it, she'd waste no time in using it against him to satisfy herself. He really did have no other option than to do as she commanded. He could worry about the consequences later when Vanessa came home, it wasn't like he could run away.

Choosing the left foot first, Todd walked towards the heel. “Smart boy” Lyra commented, biting her lip. Todd felt the full warmth of her sole as he moved closer, finally laying his hands on it. Due to light callousing, this part of her foot had a slight hardness to it. He closed his eyes and licked the damp skin. Salty. Bitter. Sour. This was not going to be pleasant. He lapped away, constantly having to remind himself of what he'd been through in Lyra's boot, not wanting to go through that again. These thoughts carried him up the length of her sole. The flesh grew softer and more taut as Todd left the heel and reached the stretch of skin that was Lyra's high arch. Only minor wrinkles remained here when her foot wasn't scrunched, most of the wrinkles resided further up the sole. The less wrinkles present, the easier her sole was to clean. It wasn't until he reached the mass of sweaty, wrinkled skin nearing the top that his progress was slowed down, having to concentrate hard on licking the pockets of grime and sweat out of the deeper crevices. The hard skin on the ball of Lyra's foot was much damper than the section on her heel which made licking it far more unpleasant. Texture wise, it was the vilest part of her massive foot. Flavour wise? No. That award was held by the five crowning heads at the very top: her toes.

Lyra's long, elegant looking toes were filthy with foot gunk that had accumulated in the depths of her well worn boots, not helped in the slightest by her lack of socks. As Todd approached those toes and caught sight of the state of them, he paused, feeling ill. “What's wrong?” Lyra taunted “Are my toes a little too cheesy for you? Too bad. I want them spotless Todd.”

Cheesy was accurate. It seemed as though the majority of the sour odour was emanating from Lyra's toes. Who knows how long it had been since they were last washed. How had he missed this before, when he was giving her a foot massage? Had he wilfully ignored it because of his budding infatuation for the elf? Nonetheless, Todd swallowed his pure disgust and got to it, licking and consuming the foul substances around and on her long toes. Lyra giggled happily as he worked on her toes, they were the most erogenous part of her foot and she loved the attention that his tiny mouth was giving them, Such devotion was impressive, to be able to eat the very dirt from her toes. He had been utterly dominated by Lyra and her smelly feet and the elf was most pleased.

“Very good work Todd! I'm proud of the effort you've shown” Lyra beamed at him and despite the monster she had turned out to be, he couldn't help but feel good being complimented by her. “Now, time for you to do it all over again” She pointed to the other, still dirty foot “Chop chop Todd.”

Just as she commanded, Todd did it all again, ensuring that the second foot was just as clean as the first. He felt full after he was finished, having just consumed more than enough footsweat and toejam for one lifetime. Thankfully this resulted in one happy elf.

“Come on” Lyra said, picking Todd up after shoving her clean feet back into her hot, grimy boots. Todd felt slightly annoyed at that, she had just pretty much made his great efforts worthless. Then he started questioning himself. Was he really proud of how clean he'd made her feet with his own mouth?

“Where is the private room hidden Todd?”

Closer to her face now, Todd no longer how to shout at the top of his voice “Behind the painting on the wall over there” The 'painting of illusion' had the handy effect of being able to disguise the area it was placed on to look like the rest of the room, hiding the secret door. Lyra pulled the painting from the wall and the illusion dispersed, revealing the door.

Reaching out for the door, Lyra was stopped mid motion by Todd “No Lyra wait!”

“What is it?”

“Vanessa has put a great many spells on this door. The second you touch it, she'll know what we're doing plus some might harm us or render us helpless until she arrives. I don't know which is worse.” Todd warned, worried for his captor for some reason. Perhaps he found it difficult to side with the woman who had caused him so much misery over the past few years, siding instead with the woman who put him through terrible torture over the last several hours.

“Thanks Todd. I nearly regret what I've been doing to you, considering how you're still looking out for me” She pulled out a scroll from a satchel belted to her body. Opening up the scroll, she held it up in front of the door. The rune on the scroll started glowing, an exact copy appearing on the door. With an unimpressive flash, the rune disappeared. Reaching out again, Lyra grabbed the door handle and opened the door into the private room, the security for which had been totally dispelled.

Gazing over the array of dangerous magical artefacts, Lyra looked for one in particular. She found it quickly: a ball made of purple crystal, so many reflective surfaces on it that Lyra could see herself hundreds of times over.

“The crystal prison of Galliana” Todd said with fear, recognising the object. It wasn't truly a prison, more of a key to another dimension where Galliana was imprisoned. Galliana was a powerful sorceress who worshipped the beings that existed in this other dimension, immense, eldritch beings beyond human comprehension that fed on suffering. She desired to use the key to open a portal from their dimension to her own. Failing to open a portal, a group of mages used the key to send Galliana herself to that other dimension, the beings within gratefully accepting her as a plaything, under the condition that they would always have someone to torture. In exchange, the key was disabled, no longer able to reach the other dimension.

“Indeed” Lyra said in awe, stroking the item “You needn't explain this one to me Todd, for I already know all about it. The crystal prison of Galliana is why I'm here, after all. Months of surveillance, waiting for Vanessa to leave the museum under your care, months of preparing. All for this.”

Todd had hoped that Lyra was just a young elf woman who was curious to a fault and sadistic to boot, but it seemed that she had ulterior motives the whole time. “You came here for that?” Todd asked, terrified of the possibility that Lyra aimed to invite those beings into his world, much like Galliana had tried to accomplish.

“I did. You see, Galliana was my mother Todd. I've been told stories of her ultimate fate from birth and haunted by the fact that she's in a state of constant torment under the tyrannical domination of such unstoppable beings. I have no interest in the denizens of that dimension, only in freeing my mother.”

Feeling somewhat relieved, Todd had more to say but was reluctant to burst Lyra's bubble “Lyra.”

“What is it now Todd?”

“Freeing your mother is impossible. I'm sorry. When she was sent through the key, the mages who sent her there made a deal with the entities, so that they would keep her prisoner for all of time with no chance of escape, in order to pay for her crimes. The key doesn't work.”

Chuckling, Lyra showed Todd the determination in her eyes “That's where you're wrong Todd. I have read the details of the deal many times over and it states that they just need 'someone' to torture. It doesn't specify who. That's why you're such a vital part of my plan Todd.”

“ME!?” Todd wasn't following her train of thought “Lyra, I don't understand.”

“Then shut up and let me explain silly” Lyra grinned “The key can't be used for its primary purpose any longer, thanks to that damned deal. But it does provide a link to the other dimension. I can feel the energy within when I touch it. The energy of pure suffering. With this, I can cast a spell swapping the place of my mother with someone from this world.”

It took Todd a few seconds before true horror took over his mind. “Lyra please no, don't do this” In mere moments, his begging had become more desperate than it had ever been over his life of victimhood. “Haven't I suffered enough? You'll be sentencing me to an eternity of torture at the hands of godlike beings, think this through!”

“I have thought it through Todd, and this is the decision I have come to. It would take days to find another person in this sparsely populated land. I like you Todd, honestly I do. The time I have spent with you today is the most fun I've had in as long as I can remember. But my mother has been in there for a good chunk of my life. I need to get her out as soon as possible, spare her of any further torment.” Suddenly, she released Todd from her grip. Instead of falling, he floated in the air, bathed in purple light. “I'm sorry Todd. Goodbye.”

Lyra channelled her power through the inactive key. With one final scream of utter terror and despair, Todd vanished. In his place, a woman appeared, naked and crumpling to the floor. Lyra experienced a stench more potent than she ever dreamed was possible as the woman lay on the floor, wide eyed. Lyra quickly used a spell to temporarily remove her sense of smell, though even that didn't negate it completely. The odour was so bad, even her soul could smell it. She knew what that smell was too. Feet. Only much stronger than foot odour had a right to be.

“Mom?” Lyra spoke. The woman looked spooked at the sudden sound. Drenched in a thick liquid, her traumatised eyes settled on Lyra.

“Lyra? Is that you? Am I really free? Please, tell me that this isn't a dream.”

Wiping away tears, Lyra smiled with joy “It's no dream mom. I got you out.” The two of them hugged.

“But how? The key was made unusable by the goddesses themselves” Galliana asked, shaking off as much as the liquid as she could, grimacing at the sight of it. She was managing to stomach the scent, aided by the fact that she was free.

“I swapped your place with another. The deal keeping you there and making the key inactive didn't specify that you had to be the one in their clutches, just that someone had to be.”

Galliana laughed “Oh that poor soul. The time spent in that awful world is torture, every second of it. I'll spare you the grisly details, I wouldn't want to give you nightmares honey.”

“Thanks mom” Part of Lyra was grateful, but another part of her, the curious and sadistic part, wanted to know what kind of torment Todd would be experiencing for all of eternity.

“Before we leave” Galliana said, grabbing the key “I have to make sure this can never be used against me ever again. If you managed to swap me out, that means someone else could potentially swap me back in. I have knowledge of how this crystal works, I can remove the magic lurking within this crystal and completely sever this world from the other dimension.” Galliana focussed and the colour drained out of the crystal, turning the pretty purple to a dull grey. She pushed the key from its stand and it shattered into a million pieces. “There. Now truly, no one will ever be able to even sense that dimension ever again. What was the name of the person you swapped with me Lyra?”

“Todd” Lyra answered, smiling fondly at the memories of her having fun with him “His name was Todd.”

“Well Todd” Galliana addressed him even in his absence “I thank you for your sacrifice. You have contributed to freeing me from torture without end and for that I will always be grateful. Good luck, as those cruel goddesses that inhabit that realm will never grow bored of toying with you, I hope you fare better than I.”

Lyra let Galliana have a few moments of silence as she finished her monologue, before speaking up “Come on mom, let's go home.”

Galliana smiled “Yes Lyra. Let's go.” The two of them, mother and daughter, held hands and left the museum behind. Leaving the museum attendant in another dimension with sadistic beings wanting nothing more than his unending torment.

Ring ring.

Weeks later, Vanessa returned refreshed by her travels. Her good mood that she had acquired did not last very long on arrival though, considering that her servant wasn't rushing to greet her on hearing the bell. “Todd!” She yelled, waiting a few seconds before doing so again but louder “TODD!!”

Not hearing anything at all, Vanessa felt a strange emotion. Worry. She immediately pushed the emotion away, refusing the possibility that she was worried about her pitiful servant.

Walking through the museum doors, Vanessa immediately noticed that something was amiss. Her hawk eyes spotted the missing shrinking wand. She noticed that the seat of comfort had been messed with too, moved slightly to the side. Anyone else might have missed the latter detail, but not Vanessa.

“I'm going to fucking kill him” Vanessa said, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails left eight little crescents in her palms. Any semblance of worry evaporated. She was seething with rage, wondering what had gotten into the usually submissive insect, either he himself had done this or let someone do it. Vanessa didn't know which was worse.

As she inspected every other display, trying to spot anything else wrong, Vanessa saw something that chilled her to the bone. Over on the back wall, the hidden door to the private area had been left ajar. “Todd” She said to herself “Please don't tell me you opened that. When I get my hands on you, there will be no end to your suffering.”

Stomping into the private room, Vanessa gasped in surprise. On the floor, utterly destroyed, was the crystal prison of Galliana. The purple glow was missing from the many shards. Falling to the ground, Vanessa scooped up a handful and let them fall between her fingers. This was bad, very bad. The grand mage council had trusted her to take care of the prison, now here it was, smashed. Did this mean that Galliana had gone free? Where was Todd?

Closing her eyes, Vanessa visualised the curses that she laid upon her servant. The latest curse was active and in use, meaning that he was still alive and being tortured by the curse. This made Vanessa smile somewhat, distracting her from the lost prison.

Vanessa swore. If the grand mage council found out that Galliana might be free, her head would roll. It was hard, but Vanessa knew that if she wanted to survive, she would have to leave behind the museum and the majority of her collection.

When making this decision, Vanessa found a small comfort in the fact that wherever Todd was, he was suffering. She had the option to end the curse, but had no desire to do so. Thanks to the enchanted ring he wore, the curse would persist even if Vanessa were to die. She wouldn't have had it any other way.

One moment, Todd was stood before the beautiful elf Lyra, feeling pure terror given the implication of her revelation. What she planned to do to him was cruel and evil, justified in her mind for the freedom of her mother. The next moment he was elsewhere, stranded in another world entirely.

Stood on a soft, pale blue surface that was wet with a slimy substance, he was quickly overwhelmed. The sights and lack of sounds weren't the most fearsome part of this peculiar place that he found himself, it was the smells. The hot, humid air of this new world stunk worse than anything Todd had ever smelt. It was a familiar smell, only immeasurably stronger. Feet. Upon realising what the odour was, he felt an odd yearning inside him, missing the smell of feet he had the displeasure of smelling in the past, that of Lyra and Vanessa, at least their stinky feet had limits.

In contrast, the odour that seemingly replaced air in this other dimension was indescribable, surpassing any constraints of reality. It was as though every female on the planet had gone without washing their feet for a thousand years and combined their foot stench together. Todd fell to his knees, mind overwhelmed by the sensory torture that his nose was going through, and his mouth by extension as he could taste the tainted air as he breathed it into his lungs, heavy and cloying. For whatever reason, Todd's mind couldn't escape into insanity as the stink consumed him, something within him held on stubbornly to sanity despite him wanting nothing but the opposite.

Trying to find a way to distract his mind against the pungent, oppressive aroma, Todd willed his other senses to life, namely his sight, and looked around at the alien ground where he had been forced into a kneeling position. The blue surface continued on for quite some distance, ending far away to his left and right, keeping on going behind and in front of him, past where his eyes could see. Ditches and shallow chasms were frequent in all direction. After falling to his knees, Todd discovered that the heat was apparently coming from the floor under him, which actually felt remarkably like tender flesh. Following that chain of thought, the ditches and chasms resembled wrinkles on skin. Where the surface ended, there was nothing but a pitch black void. Without a light source, there was no good reason that he was able to view the area around him, yet it was possible.

“Greeting, our new toy” A disembodied voice spoke. Todd heard it not just with his ears, this voice spoke directly into his mind. It sounded feminine and most amused. “What do you think of my big, stinky feet? Do you like them?” This was followed by a haunting giggle.

Feet? What feet? Todd thought to himself as he felt confusion in the midst of pure despair.

“Have you not realised? You're so naïve, it's adorable!”

Suddenly, the ground that Todd was on moved. The amount of wrinkle-like crevices doubled and sections of the fleshy surface that had been smooth compacted into more chasms, the ones already present deepening. Taken off guard, Todd fell face first into a new ditch and got some of the thick liquid that coated everything in his mouth and the flavour was foul. Sourer and more unpleasant than anything Todd had tasted, it reminded him of something. Of the time Vanessa made him worship her feet. Of the time Lyra made him lick her feet clean whilst he was tiny. It was the flavour of footsweat, but much like the lingering odour of this world, far more potent. Todd knew now what he was stood on: a pair of feet that were absolutely massive. The huge soles unscrunched and returned to how they had been, leaving Todd laid on a smooth patch of hot, reeking fresh and got back into a kneeling position, unsure if he would be able to stand.

“Finally. They're sexy aren't they, these feet of mine? How do you feel, as you come to understand the hopelessness of your situation? The pointy eared woman before you put on a tough face, but little did she know that my kind can read mind and emotions. We could feel her terror, her horror, her suffering. It was delicious.”

Not responding directly to the being that addressed him, the being whose feet he knelt upon, Todd began to sob. There was no way out of here. This monster had him and she sounded eager to show him nothing but torture; disgusting, stinky torture.

That's when, in the black void, the empty abyss, another pair of enormous feet appear, blinking into existence. With them, the pair of feet brought their own aroma, instantly doubled the rancid intensity of the odour that was a perpetual source of torment to Todd's mind and senses. The soles were identical to the pair of feet he was knelt on, pale blue, dripping with sweat and covered in wrinkles. Now able to see the full foot, he noticed that these beings had long, thick toes and black toenails. The pale blue faded into a darker, ashen blue on the edges of the soles and toes. Comparing the pair that he stood on to the freshly arrived pair, Todd judged himself to be extremely small, not even a quarter the size of the littlest toe.

“Hello sister. I take it that this is our new plaything?” A second voice that was near indistinguishable from the first spoke, though there was something about it that told Todd that the new voice came from the being that owned the new pair of feet.

“It is indeed. You'll love him, he's only just gotten here and already his mind is at its limits with just us two. Wait until the others get here! What a shame for the poor mortal that his mind can never truly snap in this world.”

Wiggling those unbelievably large toes, the second being spoke to Todd “Look at my wiggling toes mortal, bask in their beauty. I'll do my best to make your stay here as unpleasant as I can, not that you'll ever be leaving.”

Another pair of feet appeared, equally as big and equally as stinky as the others. Then another. A fifth and sixth showed up. More and more showed up, each making the environment around Todd more unbearable. He tumbled into deeper lair of hell with every pair of feet, the faceless, eldritch entities made sure to verbally tease him on arrival, make their presence known. Soon enough the black void wasn't visible to the lost human, obscured by innumerable pairs of gargantuan, smelly feet that were flexing their soles and wiggling their toes as they fed and delighted on his suffering.

“Damn. This must be absolute torture for a mortal. Our combined foot stench could kill gods!”

“Nah, our little toy is probably enjoying himself, wrapped in the aroma of our glorious feet.”

“I'm glad that we can keep his consciousness intact with our magic. I can feel his mind trying to tear itself apart with every whiff he gets, trying to save him from an eternity of smelly suffering.”

The potentially millions of entities conversed and taunted Todd as they enjoyed his torment as he was paralysed by the odour that had become impossibly powerful, laying face up on the first pair of feet, at the mercy of these cruel beings.

As Todd thought that his situation couldn't be worse than this, tormented by the titanic stinky feet of beings beyond his comprehension for all of time, he was proven wrong. Very, very wrong. The ring still attached to his finger lit up and a familiar burning singed his skin. His limbs defied the paralysis, stretching out into a vulnerable spread eagle. His toes split apart. Then the sensations began. The skilled, deft fingers of Vanessa started tickling him in all the spaces that they had assaulted before, only they were invisible now, the torture having been recorded and reapplied. Only it was much, much more intense than it had been originally, even more so than it had been whilst in Lyra's boot, being stomped all over a mountain. In another dimension, the stipulation of the curse that made the effects worse the further Todd was from the museum was being pushed far beyond the maximum. His mouth, which had been unable to open because of the immense pressure from the heavy stink exploded open with pained, forced laughter, drawn out of him by the tickling. It was as though there were a thousand hands overlapping one another at each of the most sensitive parts of his helpless, ticklish flesh, scratching maddeningly.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

“What is this?”

“This is interesting, that's what!”

“Now his mouth is open, he can taste our feet on his tongue!”

“Whatever is happening, I like it.”

“Indeed. This new toy of ours is proving to be a much tastier snack than that old elf.”

Studying what was occurring, one of the many brilliant minds thought of a way to draw further despair from their plaything.

“Watch this” She announced. In a moment, Todd's mouth sealed shut. He was back to sucking up all of the awful foot stink with his tortured nostrils, only now his breathing was deeper and faster, taking in far more stink than before. The small amount of much needed relief given by the ability to open his mouth and laugh was eliminated in an instant.

The reaction from the entities was a positive one indeed. “Excellent sister!”

“Most creative.”

“But now he can't taste our feet! His mouth is closed.”

“I'm not done” The same entity who closed Todd's mouth said. Another moment and the suffering the entities felt coming from their victim increased further with no apparent change.

“I like it, but I'm also unsure of what happened. What did you do sister?”

“I made his skin double as taste buds” The creative monster said with pride “Now he will be able to taste the godlike flavour of our feet at all times, whilst also inhaling plenty of the odour from our smelly feet through his nose!”

“Truly, you are a genius.”

“Now, let's show him total suffering. Come on sisters!”

The sadistic entities moved their feet towards the pair that Todd laid upon, helpless to whatever they had planned. He could only watch as the smelly feet ate up his vision, legions of them, coming closer and closer. Soon the sweating foot flesh was all around him, a disgusting, stinky prison cell. One foot moved ahead of the rest, descending on his tortured body. He was sealed in a tomb of foul smelling, sweaty feet, his body wanting nothing more than to thrash around but being unable to do so thanks to the magical bondage provided by Vanessa and the physical one provided by the two feet he was trapped between.

“Smell our feet! Smell our feet!” Countless of the entities spoke in unison as Todd was consumed by the combined torture of his senses of smell, taste and touch. He couldn't hear the voices through his ears any more now that he was buried in between two colossal soles, but could still hear them in his mind.

“I hope you're enjoying yourself. Because this is all you will ever experience from now on.”

“We've made you immortal, both physically and mentally. There is no escape from us.”

“Time here has no meaning. Eternity after eternity will pass and you will still remain here with us, suffering under our infinitely stinky feet.”

Todd knew torment greater than any mortal ever had the displeasure of knowing, yet these evil beings would take great pleasure in making it worse for him. After all, they had forever to do so.

Abigail the alchemist sat in the back of her shop, where customers were forbidden to go, crushing some herbs with her mortar and pestle. Multiple lit, scented candles had been distributed in the alchemist's workshop as many of the ingredients she used in potions had unpleasant aromas to them.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Abigail glanced at the jar where the tapping sounds came from for a moment to see the face of a pink haired fairy pressed up against the glass, sticking out her little tongue. The jar had several holes in it, allowing the fairy to breath. However because of the fairy's nature, it was necessary that over half of Abigail's scented candles were positioned around the jar.

“Do you not get bored of distracting me whilst I'm working?” The alchemist said with an indifferent tone, knowing that if she showed the fairy any of the irritation she felt inside the provocation would grow worse.

The fairy put her hands behind her back innocently and began pacing in the small space provided to her by the jar. It was a large jar and had enough room to lay down, but far less room than what was comfortable. “Nope, not really. Do you not get bored of keeping fairies captive against their will?”

Ignoring the fairy, Abigail kept on making potions, emptying the crushed herbs in her stone mortar into the beaker where the other ingredients were gathered. “Ignoring me again, are you Abigail? I don't think I've ever met a ruder human than yourself. Wait until I tell the other fairies about this. 'Juniper!' They'll say, 'I can't believe such a mean human imprisoned you and farmed you for your foot sweat to use in her potions!'”

“Please be quiet.” Abigail ordered.

“Like I said, rude!” Juniper crossed her arms. “Just wait until Saphie finds me. She'll free me and make you sorry.”

“Juniper if you don't shut up I'm going to have to tie you up and gag you. You're already stuck in that jar, be thankful that I don't keep you in bondage too.”

Despite her mischievous instincts demanding she continue annoying the alchemist, Juniper gritted her teeth and swallowed any potential retort. She enjoyed not being bound and gagged.

Abigail smirked, enjoying her small victory and continued working in silence. One might wonder why Abigail went through the trouble of keeping Juniper around, but one look at the profit she makes from sense enhancing would explain everything. The sweat of foot fairies was a valuable ingredient which people might find odd, but once the foul odour has been purged the substance retains the remarkable property of enhancing the senses of taste and smell. As this ingredient can be difficult to acquire (foot fairies are a pain to deal with), it is expensive to buy. Abigail managed to capture Juniper when the fairy was alone and considered herself fortunate for the opportunity.

Though keeping Juniper in captivity might seem cruel, what foot fairies did to trespassers was far worse. Foot fairies had a tendency to capture people and keep them prisoner for several months, torturing their noses and mouths with small, stinky feet for every waking moment. Abigail used this to push down any guilt she would otherwise feel for keeping Juniper in a jar, but couldn't alleviate the fear that the fairy might one day escape and seek vengeance. That possibility is something Abigail had nightmares about; the first time she had harvested the sweat from Juniper's feet and boots had been traumatising and was what caused the alchemist to invest in a magic face mask that cancelled out all smells.

The potion making process went uninterrupted for a long time after Juniper stopped trying to annoy Abigail and she managed to finish five paralysis potions before she heard the front door of her shop opening, along with the bell she had set up just in case she was ever out of earshot of the door.

“Just a second!” Abigail shouted as she finished off the final label for a paralysis potion and stuck it onto the bottle using an adhesive solution. Moving through the curtain covering the doorway separating the store and workshop, she came out behind the counter.

Shelves of potions were located all around, all labelled with a name and number that allowed customers to find out what the potion did using the catalogues around the store. The first catalogue that been a chore to make, completely handwritten, but thanks to a mage operating in the town the pages were copied using magic.

Turning to look at Abigail, a big smile on her face, was Pan. Pan was an adventurer who made this town her home, going on quests in the area around and sometimes far away when called for. Some of her success was due to Abigail's potions and because they were friends, Abigail was happy to cut the adventurer a small discount.

“Pan! Good to see you. When did you get back from Northgate?” Abigail leaned on the counter-top, greeting her friend.

“It's nice to see you too Abigail. I got back late yesterday, only to immediately be given the offer of another quest from the same client. I would decline and rest up at home for a few days but they're pretty generous with rewards.”

“I'm not complaining. The more money you have, the more potions you can buy from me.” Abigail joked.

Pan laughed. “Aye, that's correct, and actually why I'm here. Tomorrow is when I depart again and really need to restock.”

“What do you need?”

“Five ironskin, two haste and a second wind.”

“You used all of your ironskin potions? How?” Abigail probed. The other two were common purchases; Pan could be impatient and the combined effects of haste and second wind allowed her to run fast and totally replenish her stamina.

“Well, funny story. There was a lot more razorclaws in Northgate mine than I anticipated. I had to chug them one after another because they swarmed me. Honestly, it was a closer fight than I'd admit to anyone else because I killed the last few as my final potion was wearing off.” Pan looked a little relieved as she stopped talking, as if reliving the memory.

“Sounds tight. Perhaps you'd be interested in purchasing more ironskin potions this time around? You can never be too careful.” Abigail displayed her inner merchant shamelessly with a smile.

Laughing once more, Pan shook her head. “You'd like that, wouldn't you potion seller? Next you'll be telling me 'My potions are too strong for you, traveller' and I'll force you to sell me them out of curiosity.”

Now both of them were laughing, Pan to the point where she had to wipe away a single tear. “But yes.” The adventurer continued once she'd recovered “I would like seven ironskin potions rather than five this time, just in case.”

“Coming right up.” Abigail said, unlocking the storage cupboard and going inside with a potion tray. Only single, watered down potions were displayed on the shelves. The real supply of potions were safely locked away behind the counter to prevent thieves from getting their hands on anything valuable.

Abigail emerged with what Pan had asked for. Placing it on the counter, Abigail informed Pan of the price as she started moving the potions from the tray into Pan's potion case that she had opened and left on the counter whilst the alchemist had been in the cupboard.

“Better price than I expected.” Pan mused as she dug through her coin-purse and retrieved the correct amount.

“I decided to cut you a better deal, just cause I like ya so much.” Abigail winked.

Pan smiled. “I know that already, but you liked me last time and I didn't get this good of a price.”

“It's because you said you almost died on your last quest and I really don't want my favourite customer to die.”

“I didn't say I almost died! I said it was a close fight!” Pan argued, but blushed all the same. “I do appreciate it though Abigail. Thank you.”

“No worries Pan.” Abigail closed the case for her friend and took the money.

“Stay safe, okay?” The alchemist said to her friend as Pan turned to leave.

“Oh don't worry Abigail, I'll be back. Just make sure that you're still here to sell me potions!” The two close friends waved at each other before the door closed and separated them.

Abigail went back into her workshop, noticed Juniper was curled up on the bottom of the jar, fast asleep. Abigail smiled and went back to work.

That day, there were no further customers. A slow day, only having one customer but come the weekend plenty of people would come in and buy potions to make up for the lull in business. By the time she had done working it was dark outside, but thanks to the candles already lit in the back room of her store the alchemist could see well enough. She stood, looking at the captive fairy who was holding up a middle finger and glaring at Abigail. Abigail smiled and gave a little wave before going through into the store. After locking the front door she went upstairs and straight to bed.

Tormented by nightmares featuring a certain fairy breaking out and seeking revenge, Abigail was somewhat grateful for the noise that woke her during the night. Grateful for all about three seconds, before she realised what she'd heard.

Abigail had heard the ringing of bell. Short and sudden, there was only one bell in the potion store. The bell that was set up by the entrance.

Climbing out of bed with a fresh, slick sweat coating her skin, the alchemist grabbed the flanged mace at the foot of her bed. It almost slipped out of her clammy hands at first, luckily she caught it and avoided alerting potential intruders to her presence.

Creeping down the stairs, Abigail listened out for Juniper's voice. No doubt that the foot fairy would side with any intruder over the woman who took away her freedom. She heard nothing, no voices, no telltale fluttering of fairy wings, nothing. Carefully, Abigail stepped off of the final stair and onto the wooden plank floor of the main room. It was dark, a scant amount of light seeped in through the wrought iron windows.

Cautiously, the scared alchemist inspected the room, afraid of moving away from the bottom of the stairs. Everything looked... normal. There wasn't really anywhere someone could hide, other than maybe behind the counter. Sneaking forward silently, she checked behind the counter. No one was there. For a moment Abigail was relieved. But it didn't last long. Someone was here, somewhere.

Abigail had the key to the storage cupboard, leaving only one place that the intruder could possibly be. The workshop. Pulling the curtain aside before blindly walking through, her eyes examined the workshop. From what she could tell, there was nothing amiss. In the fading light supplied by the withering embers of the candles, everything was normal. No bottles tipped over, no ingredients spilled, meddlesome fairy still in her jar. Juniper was awake, her arms crossed and leaning against the side of the jar with a grin on her face.

Suddenly Abigail realised what had happened. Somehow Juniper had used fairy magic to ring the bell, maybe summon a gust of wind or something. “You little shit.” Abigail was angry. Angry that she had been so worried over nothing. That was the last straw, she was going to make Juniper pay. However when Abigail tried entering the workshop, she tripped over a wire drawn taut across the doorway at around ankle height, falling to the ground.

Suddenly, Juniper erupted in laughter. “Have a nice trip, Abigail?” She yelled in between laughs, having even harder afterwards. Abigail wasn't sure what was going on, the fall had dazed her.

“Uhhhh.” The fallen alchemist groaned, rolling over onto her back. Something landed on her chest and though her vision was temporarily made worse by the impact, she could make out a small figure with wings holding an uncorked potion.

While Abigail's mouth was open, the figure took the opportunity to tip the bottle and pour a generous amount of liquid between those lips. The potion worked its effect quickly. Abigail didn't need her vision to know that the attached label read 'Paralysis potion' written in her own neat handwriting.

“How does that taste, bitch? You feel good?” The figure taunted with a deep yet feminine voice. As Abigail's eyesight returned to its normal functionality, she lost the use of her extremities and the immobility worked inwards, the power of the potion overriding her body's natural resistance which was at its weakest in her fingers and toes.

Now able to see the details of her assailant, Abigail saw another fairy. She was dressed similarly to how Juniper was dressed and of around the same height. Instead of the eye-catching pink pigtails that the captive fairy sported, this one had short, wild black hair and heavy eye make-up.

The potion only prevented movement, it didn't take away sensations or even dull them. Abigail saw and felt every step the new fairy's booted feet took, stepping up onto her helpless chin, past the open mouth and placed one foot on the nose. The little winged woman raised her arms, striking a victory pose. “Looks like we have our winner! Sapphire the foot fairy! In order to save her friend, the brave little soul defeated the vile human!”

“Saphie come and let me out already. I've been waiting for soooo long to have my fun with this whore.” Juniper complained.

“Fine. Give me a second.” Sapphire huffed, taking off almost instantly after her wings started fluttering rapidly. She flew over to the jar that held Juniper. She unclasped the jar's lid and lifted it, the well oiled hinge not making even a peep, freeing a vengeful foot fairy from her prison.

“Ahh. The sweet smell of freedom.” Juniper said, doing a flip in the air. “Now, let's give Abigail something not so sweet to smell.”

Flying back towards the paralysed alchemist, the two fairies giggled evilly. Abigail's useless body filled with fear, unable to do anything to prevent whatever cruel plans they had for her. All she could do was move her eyes and follow the action.

Landing on Abigail's cheeks, she felt horror as she watched the two of them removing their boots, smiles of stupid glee dominating their faces. The odour was extremely strong. Though Abigail only had Juniper in her possession for a few months, the smell of her feet was worse than a human's would be after several years of not washing. Sapphire's aroma was just as stinky, leading the alchemist to conclude that lack of hygiene wasn't the issue.

“I bet you're enjoying yourself now, aren't you Abigail?” Juniper teased, wiggling her reeking bare toes right in front of Abigail's nostril.

“You're all ours now.” Sapphire joined in, mimicking Juniper but on the opposite side. Where Juniper's toenails were unpainted, Sapphire's toes had little purple crowns. The smell was intolerable, shocking Abigail to the core.

“I've got an idea. Something I've had plenty of time to plan.”

“Oh? Do share this idea of yours with me, Juniper.”

“Did you see the door in the store when you rang the bell?” Juniper smiled when Sapphire nodded confirmation. “Abigail here has the key, and inside are hundreds of potions. Potions with various effects. And the best part is that our helpful little alchemist here has handy catalogues listing and detailing every single potion available. Imagine what kind of naughty things we can do to her with those.”

Abigail's eyes widened with terror, the only reaction she could currently give. The many potions for sale in her store ran through her head, that overactive mind conjuring countless torturous possibilities that the fairies could inflict on her, on top of the nasal torment already being dished out.

“I love it Juniper!” Sapphire's lipped curled upwards sadistically. She was so excited that she almost lost her footing on Abigail's motionless face.

“We can't leave her nose though. If we both go get potions, she won't be sniffing anything stinky.” Juniper said.

“Let's just position our boots under her nose, that way she doesn't get a break whilst we're busy.”

“Nice thinking Saphie!”

The fairies stepped away from the nostrils and instead lay their unused boots parallel to Abigail's top lip, so that the opening of each was directly under a nostril. If there was a difference in the stink level, it wasn't significant enough for the paralysed woman to notice. She was helpless to stop the fairies grabbing the key located on her necklace and flying off to the storage cupboard. All Abigail could do was lay there, sniffing stinky fairy boots and listening to the two of them laughing excitedly as they went about the task of studying the catalogue and bringing potions into the workshop.

Several minutes later there was a line of potions along the floor beside Abigail and the fairies were floating in the air above, whispering to each other with big grins on their small faces, putting the ingredient of trepidation into the concoction that was Abigail. Then they descended slowly, trying to increase the drama, and landed on her chin. The sensation of bare, sweaty feet was rather unpleasant.

That's when they did something that made Abigail realise how much she took the ability to move for granted, as well as making her regret producing such effective potions. If only her limbs couldn't move, that would have made things better. But no, in this situation, she could do nothing as the fairies reached into her mouth and pulled out her tongue, draping it over the chin like a heated pink rug. Then they stepped back onto it and made Abigail's taste buds scream because of the four stinky, foul soles treading all over them.

“Okay, we're ready to begin!” Juniper announced. “Let's get this potion tasting ceremony started. This is all to celebrate you becoming the newest footslave of the foot fairies, Abigail!”

Abigail wanted to protest and fact that she could not was infinitely frustrating. Juniper smiled, recognising the irritation in Abigail's eyes. “Now Saphie, my wonderful assistant, pass me the first potion!”

“Coming right up, Juniper!” Sapphire said. Flying off, picking up a potion and returning to her place on Abigail's tongue carpet.

“This one is a potion of repulsion. I know you know what it does Abigail, but I'm gonna explain it anyway.” Juniper started speaking as Sapphire uncorked the bottle. “A potion of repulsion makes the first thing you taste after consuming it extremely repulsive to the consumer, multiplying the effect if the individual already had a distaste. This isn't exclusive to the sole sense of taste however, it accounts for all senses. Abigail you are not only going to hate tasting our feet even more, but smelling, seeing and touching too. If only feet could make a sound, we'd have a holy trifecta!”

“Umm, Juniper.”

“What is it, Saphie?”

“I don't think you know what a trifecta is...” Sapphire looked like she was trying to laugh at her friend's mistake. It seemed that fairies found amusement in everything, even in the failures of their own kind.

“Shut up Saphie! Just hurry up and pour the damn thing down her throat so we can move onto the next one.” Juniper yelled. Sapphire hurriedly followed her friend's orders and swapped the now empty potion bottle for a full one.

“Just in case I get rudely interrupted again” Juniper shot a look at Sapphire “I'll keep this one short. This potion is a sensory enhancer potion. You should know it well, it was made using the foot sweat you stole from me. You even went so far as to remove my signature foot flavour from the sweat. That is so not cool Abigail.” Juniper stood with her hands on hip and stuck a foot out over Abigail's open mouth, toes spread. “When you pour this one Saphie, do it slow and make sure every drop travels between my toes to regain its flavour.”

The previous potion had come into effect as Juniper was talking and the immediate increase in suffering was significant indeed. If her level of hatred for smelly, gross feet was ten before, it had jumped up to the triple digits now. The change was so overwhelming that her still working tear ducts activated in an effort to express the swirling negative emotions that the rest of her body was incapable of expressing. Sapphire did exactly as she was told, carefully pouring the contents of the potion onto Juniper's exposed lower calf which ran down the length of her foot, splitting into four rivers entered the disgusting caves of foot funk between her toes and cascading into the bottomless pit below. The feeling of liquid running between her toes caused Juniper to giggle cutely.

“Get the boring one out of the way, Saphie.” Juniper said, still giggling a little. There was very little fanfare as they fed her this potion, though Abigail knew what it was. A potion of presence, a potion that prevented unconsciousness.

“Next potion please, my lovely assistant!” Juniper was revitalised, apparently having forgotten her annoyance towards the other fairy.

Sapphire flew over with another potion and uncorked it. Juniper took a whiff. “Ahhh. I like this one. Actually, this one will be a test. Let's see how well our alchemist slave knows her own potions, shall we? Saphie, pour it on my command.”

Juniper leapt across Abigail's mouth canyon, landing softly on the other side so as not to knock the boots out of position, then climbed the giant nose and sat at the tip. From there she slid down the bridge, coming to a stop at the bottom in a sitting position. “I wanna stare into your pretty eyes for this one, Abigail.” Juniper whispered, almost kindly, and placed her heels at the bases of Abigail's open eyes, displaying her filthy soles and toes to Abigail at point blank range.

“Pour it Saphie.”

“Pouring!” Sapphire shouted. As the liquid rolled down Abigail's tongue and into her throat, she tried to determine what the potion was. She had no idea how she would communicate this to Juniper, but played along anyway. Without her senses enhanced, it might have been more challenging, but that potion had come into effect and made the test much easier. A distinct sweetness dominated the flavour, the taste of heartsbloom. These diabolical fairies could only be interested in one potion containing heartsbloom...

Screwing her eyes shut, Abigail silently cursed herself for not seeing through Juniper's behaviour. Before closing her eyes, she had kept them on the grinning fairy, or rather the grinning fairy's feet which dominated Abigail's vision.

Behind closed eyelids, Juniper chuckled. “Looks like you passed the test, Abigail. I'm proud of you, I really am. If only you'd passed it sooner. But even if you had, I'm sure we'd have been able to make you look at my feet. Open your eyes Abigail.”

Abigail obeyed. The crafty little bitch had used an obedience potion, the loveless variant of love potion. Instead of making the consumer of the potion feel unparalleled affection for the first person they saw, this made the consumer obey the commands of the first person they laid eyes on. Abigail felt sick at the possibility that she now had to obey Juniper. At least the potions would eventually wear off, once the fairies were finished with inflicting whatever disgusting tortures they had in mind.

“Don't worry, we'll put that newfound obedience into use later. For now...” Juniper flew back to her rug, making sure to wipe her feet on it to further torment Abigail's extra sensitive taste buds. “Saphie! Time for the fifth and final potion!”

Sapphire eagerly retrieved the last bottle still housing a concoction and this time they both held the container, clearly wanting to share in the moment. “I wonder...” Juniper thought out loud, wanting Abigail to hear every word. “What would happen if we were to give you a shrinking potion, right now? Would it cause you to overdose on the other potions still in your system, making their effects permanent? And this shrinking potion had a warning next to it. The warning said that the effect of a shrinking potion will not wear off by itself, that a growth potion given in equal measure is needed to cancel the effects. I imagine that you're screaming inside that head of yours Abigail, that you would do anything for us not to make you drink this potion.”

Juniper's teasing words were correct. Every single one of them. Potion overdoses were dangerous, the effects were temporary because otherwise they would make life uncomfortable. But a normal dosage would prove far too potent for a shrunken person. In fact the exact same scenario had happened in the past and was well documented. Only then it hadn't been such a combination of potions given with the intention of making someone suffer. And Abigail was screaming like she'd never screamed before, any semblance of a voice trapped in her mind.

“Regardless, this potion is going into your mouth, just like the others! I've read the details several times, and it seems that to get you to the size we want you, you need to drink the entire thing. Bottoms up!”

The two fairies laughed together, tipping the open bottle upside down over the abyss. Abigail cried harder, trying harder than ever before to summon even the slightest movement and stop the fairies carrying out their nefarious plan. But she failed. Tears flowed freely, matching the liquid flowing down Abigail's gullet.

Once the bottle was empty, the fairies took off, hovering in the air above Abigail like a pair of hawks watching their prey. Then the potion took hold, working its effects on Abigail's body. The two fairies were completely silent, transfixed by the sight of someone shrinking, having never seen it happen before.

In very little time, where Abigail had lain was just a pile of her clothes. Juniper and Sapphire shared look and smiled. They flew down to the pile and started pulling them out of the way, revealing the naked, shrunken body of a still paralysed, terrified Abigail. The fairies were now bigger than her. When they were standing right next to her, she saw just how different they were in size now. Abigail was about the size of their feet. Their massive, stinky bare feet.

“Hello Abigail. How does it feel being the small one, huh?” Juniper taunted, judging the alchemist with a big toe.

“You're gonna love it in the hive Abigail. There's so many stinky fairy feet. And there's even a pair of--”

“Don't spoil the surprise Saphie!” Juniper interrupted her friend.

“Ah, yeah you're right, it'll be a great surprise.” Sapphire admitted. Then a thought popped into her head, evident by her overly expressive face and cruel smile. “Say, the boots I have are bit too big for my feet. My ancestors were known for their big feet despite being fairies and even though my feet are average I inherited their well used boots.”

“Your point is?”

“I reckon I could probably fit our tiny slave in my boot when I have it on. It would be the perfect transportation to the hive, don't you think?” Sapphire explained.

Juniper smiled, just as cruelly as Sapphire was smiling. “I like it. Go ahead Saphie. Just be aware that the paralysis potion was too weak by the time we shrunk her, so it's entirely possible that she's gonna start wriggling around under your foot on the journey. If you drop your boot with our new slave it in before I get chance to pay her back for keeping me imprisoned, you're going to take her place.” Though foot fairies love feet above all else, they also value their freedom and the ability to toy with others, so Juniper's threat was quite intimidating.

Sapphire shrugged. “Works for me Juniper. I promise you I won't lose her.” Picking up Abigail who couldn't even managed a whimper, Sapphire grabbed her boots that had dropped onto the floor when their previous resting place shrunk and shoved Abigail inside all the way to the bottom and moved Abigail so that her head was deep at the toe end. If Abigail had thought the boots stunk before, she stood corrected. At the toe area, the deepest part of the boot, the odour was many times more concentrated. The insole of the boot was blackened and soggy, still retaining some warmth from Sapphire's sweating foot. Then came the foot that had once been so small compared to Abigail, but was currently the same size as her. Still paralysed, she could only watch with dread as the fairy's hot, greasy toes came to rest on her face. Sealed away in the stinking boot of a foot fairy, so cramped that there wouldn't be enough room to move much even if she weren't paralysed, Abigail awaited their arrival at the foot fairy hive with nothing but anxiety and despair ridden expectations.

After being stuffed into an old, smelly boot with a sweaty foot Abigail thought that maybe exiting such a vile place would be a relief, that the air outside would be better. It was not, it was actually worse somehow.

But before that, a quick summary of the alchemist's latest journey is in order. It was long and arduous, every moment spent in that cramped prison was another moment of stinky suffering. Slowly but surely, control of her own body returned. It started from her heart and worked outwards and in no time she was writhing around under Sapphire's hot foot. The possibility that the boot might dislodge and fall off had been mentioned by Juniper and it became Abigail's end goal the second she found herself in this position.

Unfortunately, Sapphire had taken Juniper's warning seriously. There was no give in the softened, soggy, warm leather. It was on tight, tighter than usual. All the struggles succeeded in doing was making the foul footed fairy laugh as she flew through the sky towards home.

Then Abigail gave up, gave into the suffering. Sure it was awful. The disgusting, reeking foot and the combined effects of the potions proved a very effective torture, so much so that Abigail already felt close to her breaking point. The only reason she wasn't yet broken was because she held onto the hope that no matter how horrific her current situation was, it couldn't possibly get worse, right?

Wrong. So so so wrong.

Abigail felt something resembling a positive emotion with the withdrawal of Sapphire's foot. But that emotion was soon eliminated when the fairy's fingers fished her out of the smelly hole and dragged her into a fresh hell.

For foot fairies, the hive of Mourning Woods was a paradise. Two extremely potent foot odours did battle in the contained hive, taking the form of foot sweat vapour that filled the entire hive with a heavy, stinky fog. The two odours were further boosted by the hundreds of foot fairies who made the hive their home, their sole purpose to work as two opposing teams to make their home the single stinkiest place in existence.

When Abigail was forcibly ejected from her brief prison, she found out about the hive the hard way. After taking her initial breath, she was clawing at Sapphire's hand, desperate to climb back into the rotten boot. A chorus of musical laughter began, laughing at the actions of the shrunken alchemist. It quickly became clear that Abigail had no control here, so had a look around the room, wondering if there were any potential paths of escape she could make use of in the future.

Any escape seemed impossible. The hive was constructed entirely of living root, roots that came could be manipulated with nature magic, a speciality of fairies. Crossing over and twisting around each other over and over again, they made thick, sturdy walls. Walls that did an excellent job of containing the vast foot odour building inside. The roots made doors unnecessary. Whenever a fairy wished to enter, she could open a hole in the roots, step inside the hive, then seal the hole quickly before much precious stench was lost.

The hive was massive, boasting far more space than a collection of foot fairies would ever need themselves. However it appeared that Abigail wasn't the singular prisoner of the hive. Two others were being held here, or their feet were anyway. These two other prisoners were the sources of the overwhelming stenches that fought for supremacy, both around the same pungency and constantly increasing to new, disgusting heights.

On Abigail's left, there were a gigantic pair of green feet. The soles were wide, the toes thick. These feet were restrained, living roots wrapping around every toe stem and pulling it back, also causing the soles to be taut and near immobile. Fairies were all around this pair of feet and all these fairies had one thing in common despite their wildly varied hairstyles and hair colours. Every single fairy fluttering around the huge green feet had their fingernails and toenails painted purple.

The fairies were laughing, splashing each other with the droplets of thick foot sweat running down the mildly wrinkled skin. The green of the soles was interrupted here and there with an angry red colour. The cause of this redness was made obvious by looking at what the fairies were doing: they were tickling the gargantuan feet. Tiny fairy fingers and toes, hundreds upon hundreds of them, were teasing and torturing the sensitive skin, subjecting the owner of the feet to an agonising tickling. They were everywhere, dozens of them even tended to the exposed skin in between the huge toes but these fairies had baskets with them and seemed to be harvesting something.

At the base of the green feet was where the foot sweat accumulated and created a pool of the gross liquid. Some fairies were swimming in the dirty, cloudy pool, others simply sat on the edge, kicking their feet. Steam rose from the surface of the pool, joining the rest of the smelly foot sweat vapour in the room.

On the opposite side of the hive, to Abigail's right, were another pair of enormous feet, which were different from the first pair of feet. Where the green feet were wide and meaty, this second pair, which was purple, were slender and had high arches lined with many shelves of wrinkles along those arches. The purple feet were taller than the green feet, the long, finger-like toes stood above the thick, strong toes of the green feet. Abigail immediately realised that these two pairs of feet were part of some kind of faction based competition amongst the fairies. Just like with the first pair of feet, fairies were doing all the same things with the second pair, the only difference being that their fingernails and toenails were painted green.

Though her perception was distorted because of her new size, Abigail guessed that the sweaty, gross green feet belonged to a female orc, and the disgustingly beautiful purple feet belonged to a dark elf woman. But from her own limited experience regarding the feet of these two races, the alchemist knew that their feet couldn't naturally reach this insane level of stink without outside influence. Perhaps the foot fairies were capable of so much more than she gave them credit for.

A single sweaty foot, nails unpainted, stomped Abigail softly, pushing the tiny into the ground. “So, care to share your first impression of your new home, slave?” Juniper taunted, drawing further laughter from the fairies gathered around to welcome their wayward sister and her saviour.

“I... hate... fairies...” Abigail wheezed bitterly, her recently strengthened senses suffering immensely from being pinned by a stinky foot in the midst of an even stinkier environment.

“Don't worry! You'll hate us even more soon enough.” Juniper raised her eyes from Abigail and addressed the crowd. “Where is the toenail polish?”

Only a few seconds after asking, Juniper was presented with two bottles of nail polish: one green, one purple. She stared at them silently, carefully weighing up which faction would be better to join. A grin marked the moment she made up her mind, leading to the fairy extending both hands to take both bottles.

“Juniper.” Sapphire whispered to her friend. “You realise you can't be on both teams, right? The whole reason we split ourselves in two was to maximise foot odour creation by having a friendly rivalry act as motivation.”

“Relax, Saphie. I know what I'm doing.” Juniper gazed at the assembled fairies of the hive once more. “Friends. Sisters. Fellow lovers of feet and the smell they provide. I have chosen to be on neither team. Instead, I shall dedicate myself wholeheartedly to being in charge of this shrunken human. This alchemist kept me prisoner for months, taking away my precious foot sweat to use in potions. For this, she shall become the footslave for every fairy in the hive, as well as our 'guests'.”

Excited murmurs began to distribute throughout the collection of foot fairies. “Abigail here, because of a potion of her own creation, will obey any command that I give her. With this in mind, I shall paint my toenails both purple and green to signify how me and my footslave serve both teams.”

Fairies looked at one another, nodding in agreement before cheering their acceptance of Juniper's suggestion. Juniper looked down at Abigail, relishing both the praise being showered upon her and the dominance she so easily exerted over her tiny human slave. “You hear that? They like my idea! Tell me that you can't wait to start licking filthy, disgusting feet.”

“I can't wait to start licking filthy, disgusting feet.” Abigail's words were forced out of her because of the now chronic effect of the obedience potion she had been fed. Immediately after the words were out of her mouth she slapped both of her hands over it, horrified at what she had said.

“Well we'll get you started as soon as possible then! But first of all...” Juniper took her foot off of Abigail and sat down, presenting her feet to the tiny, toes spread. She then placed the bottles of nail polish by Abigail. “I want you to paint my toenails. Don't make a mess. I want purple and green alternating. Meaning, first nail purple, second nail green, third nail purple, and so on. I think you understand. Then after finishing each toe give the underside a big, sloppy kiss and thank me for the privilege of letting you serve me. Begin.”

Abigail didn't want to paint the toenails of her giant master, but didn't have much choice. She didn't have a lot of choice in anything any more, the most abhorrent example being that she had to inhale a stench fouler than anything most humans ever face with every single breath. Nevertheless, her tiny body obeyed. Her hands unsheathed the brush from the vial of purple nail polish and she went over to the rightmost toenail perched on Juniper's right pinky toe and started her painstaking task. Admittedly, the alchemist was quite talented. She possessed both the steady hands required to make potions accompanied by a precision granted to those of small, nimble size. It was a shame she was wasted here, her overactive senses being tormented by smelly feet.

Once finished with the first toenail, Abigail ducked under Juniper's raised toe and gave the underside a long, passionate kiss, making full use of her tongue to get a good taste of the dirt and sweat.

“Thank you, Lady Juniper, for letting me serve you.”

“It's my pleasure, footslave. But enough time-wasting, get on with the next toe!” Juniper had trouble not laughing as she spoke, but managed to complete her sentence before relieving herself. The other fairies watched intently, laughing and taunting the tiny at work.

Abigail had never been so humiliated. So miserable. But she still had nine toes to paint, followed by a lifetime of worshipping the rancid feet of foot fairies.

The following details the kind of tortures our poor, shrunken alchemist would face on a day to day basis in the hive, with the cruel foot fairy Juniper acting as the mastermind to her suffering.

It had been one year in the hive. One year of kissing and licking feet. One year of sniffing immense, ever-growing foot odour. One year of consuming disgusting foot waste. Abigail was well into her routine at this point, though she yearned every second for an escape or failing that, a short break. Though with the inability to fall unconscious, there was little chance of rest. It didn't take long before the fairies made the alchemist brew further potions to add to her torment: a bottomless stomach potion, which allowed her to eat and drink every bit of foot filth and foot sweat they fed her; as well as an immortality potion to cement her position as slave to the hive for the foreseeable future.

After each day of serving stinky feet, Abigail's tiny body would be bound to the floor by living root and dozens of fairies would lay down in a circle around her, providing the shrunken human with a blanket of hot, sweaty, reeking fairy foot flesh. That's when Abigail would endure the weight and stench, endure the sweat and dirt she could not stop getting into her mouth from the soles and toes nearby, waiting until Juniper awoke and begun the daily routine.

Said routine started with a thorough licking of one of Juniper's feet, whichever had not been licked clean the day before. Her tiny tongue would explore each patch of skin, every wrinkle, between all of the fairy's toes. By the time Abigail would return to that same foot in two days time, it would be stinkier than the previous licking somehow. The alchemist was not aware of how foot fairies achieved such things.

Once Juniper's morning foot worship was over, Abigail would be bound to her master's foot, facing away from the sole, with a leather instrument the fairy had acquired at some point. This instrument consisted of an anklet with four straps extending from it. Two of the straps were secured to Abigail's own ankles near the bottom of Juniper's hardened heel. The other two straps went over the top of Juniper's foot and through the gaps in her toes, both of the outer gaps. The second pair of straps were secured to Abigail's wrists and left her tiny hands somewhere in the vicinity of the base of the fairy's cheesy toes. Juniper's bondage anklet ensured that her tiny slave's body was stretched tight over her sole and helpless to any tortures that might be inflicted.

With Abigail bound and ready, Juniper would raise her foot, displaying her sole to the fairies that had eagerly gathered for their feet to be worshipped, and joyfully call for the first of many smelly feet to be presented. As with her toenails, the faction that had their feet worshipped alternated daily, one day the fairies attending to the orc feet would present their purple topped toes and the day after Abigail would lick the green topped toes from the dark elf faction. Every fairy would use her own sole along with Juniper's to make a sweaty Abigail sandwich first and play a little footsie before letting the tiny start licking away.

The human slave licked at least two dozen pairs of stinky, large feet clean during the first part of her routine and sometimes Juniper would allow them to keep coming until the day was over. But that was not a common occurrence and the foot worship would end once Juniper grew bored.

Depending on the faction that Abigail was serving that day, after the morning foot worship was finished Juniper would fly over to the relevant pair of restrained feet with her slave still tightly bound to her foot. This was where the routine was flexible and depended on what the mischievous fairy felt like making Abigail endure that particular day. Though there was a pattern that regularly emerged on days where Juniper wanted a variety of tortures, which was quite often. This pattern would begin with a sit by the steaming pool of heated foot sweat that flowed from the mountainous pairs of feet in the hive, tainted not only by grime picked up as the sweat rolled down the length of massive soles but of the dirt washed off of fairies dunking their feet in the liquid.

When Juniper was feeling truly evil, she would submerge the foot with Abigail attached and wait until the human gave into her natural instinct to breathe and swallowed mouthfuls of the disgusting liquid that was all around. At that point, marked by the struggle against her bounds becoming truly desperate, Juniper would lift her foot gracefully, letting the sweat drip from her lower leg and allowing Abigail to take a grateful breath before being submerged again. The process would repeat.

When Juniper felt merciful, she would sit by the edge with her foot peeking over, holding Abigail's face less than an inch from the surface and commanded the tiny to drink the sweat until she was told to stop. Robbed of her free will whenever her master gave a command, Abigail dutifully drank as much thick, sour foot sweat as she was able to.

Following a stay by the pool, Juniper would fly up to the huge feet themselves and join her fellow fairies in the ceaseless tickling of those sprawling, sensitive soles. As long as the fairy hovered, lovingly scratching at the wet, stinky flesh with all ten fingernails she would adopt a position where she was able to plant her feet flat against the bigger pair, smushing Abigail between the two. Abigail quickly found out how disgusting the feet of both the orc and dark elf were, far exceeding that of any mere fairy foot. The flavours of each were different and if she were not an alchemist training in the sampling of ingredients with enhanced senses, she might not have noticed the subtle differences in taste at the sweat level. But more on that later, when the tiny reaches the peaks.

As long as Abigail was pressed up to the warm, quivering sole Juniper would wiggle her toes, which proved enough to stimulate the tender flesh and cause an increase in sweating. The increased sweat would excrete out of the many pours straight into Abigail's face, proving to the tiny that fresh sweat tasted worse than the sweat that sat stagnant in the pool far below.

A day spent with the gargantuan pairs of feet would always end with the worst part, the area around the toes. Juniper would giggle as she zoomed upwards past the wrinkles of the sole and stopped only when she reached the top. She would wave to the fairies up here with their baskets, harvesting what Abigail soon found out was toejam. Juniper would land in the areas between the towering toes and stomp around, covering Abigail in the revolting substance and often causing it to fill her tiny mouth at the same time. The toejam of these two pairs of feet was by far the worst raw ingredient within the hive. It was here, at the toejam level that the alchemist could easily identify the differences between the incredibly repugnant feet of the orc and the dark elf.

The toejam lurking between the thick, strong toes of the orc was a tangy orange in colour and more solid than that of the dark elf, comparable to a soft cheese. The flavour was overwhelming cheesy too, with an intense sour kick. The dark elf created a greasy, black sludge between her long, elegant toes, the gross produce had the consistency of butter. It was bitter and vinegary, the fumes powerful enough to cause Abigail's eyes to water. The two distinct flavours of the toejam were present in the sweat also, but in a far less potent form.

Whether she be stood between the toes of the dark elf or the orc, Juniper would order Abigail to 'Eat up!' and obviously Abigail would begrudgingly comply, despite wanting to do anything but. The alchemist would have said that the consumption of unfathomable amounts of ripe toejam was the most torturous experience of her life when she first went through it, but that was before she found out what the gatherers were harvesting the stuff for. Juniper would fawn around the toe gardens for long amounts of time, playing with the gatherers and sometimes helping them out, getting herself covered in toejam regardless. Whenever Juniper's foot slammed into the carpet of toejam, Abigail would take another reluctant, acrid mouthful, bringing further despair to all of her screaming taste buds.

Eventually, the day had to come to a close for another to began. When this time came Juniper would magnificently dive from the top of the big toe and into the pool below, washing herself of toejam and further tainting the pool of sweat.

However, it was not time for Juniper to sleep just yet. First came supper for both herself and her slave. She headed to where the foot fairies food was made, the same place where the toejam gatherers brought full baskets of the stuff. Foot fairies loved feet. The sight, smell and taste of them was the greatest thing to a foot fairy and their food reflected this.

In a bowl with a large base, which was magically kept a stable hot temperature was where the food was made. It started with the bowl being filled partially by a good helping of sweat from both pools. Then several dozens of baskets of toejam from both feet were added to the sweat. To combine the three ingredients hundreds of fairies in stained chef whites would get into the bowl, stomping and dancing around with their dirty, sweaty, bare feet and mixing it all together. The result was a thick, creamy soup that stunk to high heavens and was somehow more disgusting than the sum of its parts. Foot fairies went crazy for this meal, lining up for a portion and begging to be among those 'fortunate' enough to be chosen by the chefs to lick their hard working feet clean of the stuff.

Juniper made sure that Abigail was given a portion that even a foot fairy much bigger than the tiny would struggle to finish, and foot fairies adored the stinky soup. Abigail, just like with the sweat and toejam, had to eat it when Juniper commanded her to and as she ate every last drop of the vile food, her eyes streaming with miserable tears more and more as she worked through the bowl.

This was all until Abigail was no longer permitted to eat from a bowl like the others. You see, after reaching the hive our dear Sapphire felt left out. Sure, she could make use of Abigail from time to time in the mornings when it was her faction's turn, but she wanted more input. Months after Abigail was introduced to the hive, Sapphire became one of the chefs. It was one of the proudest moments of the fairy's life and gave her the opportunity to belong more involved in the human's suffering.

Sapphire approached Juniper one day whilst she and Abigail were eating foot soup and gave Juniper a suggestion. Juniper loved the idea and instead of Abigail eating from a bowl the day after, the toejam soup was instead fed to her by the feet of the chefs, with Sapphire at the helm.

In addition to Abigail's regular, oversized portion, the chefs insisted on her eating whatever was left over after every fairy in the hive had eaten. Though only a little was left, this effectively doubled the tiny's portion which was already humongous relative to her size. If that wasn't bad enough for Abigail, she soon found that the chefs had the stinkiest fairy feet in the entire hive; because of their job, the flavour of the toejam soup had been baked into their very feet and would take potentially weeks of non-stop licking to remove the terrible flavour. Their soles and pads of their toes were stained a dull orange colour. But since no one was willing to do that, the flavour remained and only grew more acrid with each passing day.

Since Abigail's new feeding method required around ten percent of the total number of chefs, many fairies were understandably angry. They loved worshipping the cheesy, bitter feet of the chefs and felt like they had been robbed of pleasure. Thankfully the quick thinking Juniper came to a compromise. Immediately after Abigail had finished eating, some fairies were free to come and worship the foot with Abigail attached which had acquired some of the foul flavour from the chefs feet. The fairies were more than happy with this and would happily use their tongues to cover both Abigail and Juniper's foot in their saliva and suck up all the excess toejam soup with their warm mouths.

Abigail's new life in the hive was destined to be a life without sexual pleasure from the very beginning, but she found that long lost feeling of arousal when multiple tongues were crawling over her bound, naked body. Sure, their breath and saliva stank of recently consumed toejam soup, but it was enough to bring the sex starved alchemist to an extremely humiliating orgasm, something the fairies found hilarious. Juniper relished the humiliation of her former captor and would laugh even more than the others at what became Abigail's daily orgasm under hot tongues that reeked of smelly feet.

After the long, arduous process of simply eating that was somehow the worst of Abigail's tortures, Juniper would finally decide to call it a day. She would go to a comfortable corner of the hive along with several other fairies and unbind Abigail from her foot. Juniper would lay on her stomach with her sweaty pink soles facing upwards, giving one final command to her slave before going to sleep: “Lay on my sole facing up and breathe only through your nose.” Abigail would obey of course and watch with horror and helplessness as many other gross feet came down to rest on top of her as the attached fairies went to sleep themselves. Abigail felt both jealously and disgust during this final stretch of her day, wanting the sweet escape of sleep that her tormentors so easily achieved yet unable to ever fall unconscious again.

And when Juniper awoke, the cycle would begin again.

Under several stinking soles the ever awake Abigail would wish for an end to this constant torture, wish that her senses would stop functioning, wish that Pan would somehow figure out what had happened and come rescue her. But more than anything, Abigail wished that she had learned early in her life not to mess with fairies.

The newly repaired wheels of the wagon rolled on the uneven road surface, pulled along by a single horse. Castella, a human merchant sat in the drivers seat holding the reins. She sighed; it was a sad moment for her, leaving the halfling village that had been so kind, giving her food and shelter whilst they fixed up her wagon. If only those damn goblins hadn't attacked, she wouldn't had to impose so heavily on those halflings.

As she sat under a darkening sky, reminiscing about her brief but welcome stay among the halflings, Castella thought she heard a voice. Shaking her head, she put the voice out of her mind. It was likely that she was just imagining that the halflings were chasing after her, asking if she could stay a little longer. It was nice to be wanted, one of the many things that she missed from country life since she moved to the city was the friendly atmosphere.

“Castella! Castella!”

Starting to attention, Castella realised that the voice was real after all. Not only that, but it was calling her name. She judged it to be a male voice, but quite a quiet one. Slowing down the carriage by pulling on the horse's reins, the merchant leaned to her left and looked behind the wagon. Still a short run away, was a very familiar young halfling chasing her down the road.

“Whoa!” She called, pulling on the reins harder and bringing the horse to a complete stop. Swinging her booted feet to the side Castella leapt down from atop the carriage and strolled to the back of the carriage to meet the halfling. She watched as he approached, running as fast as his short legs could carry him.

“Tevid! What are you doing? Your family is going to be worried sick about you once they notice you're gone!” Castella had stayed with Tevid's family for the most part. The halfling had reached adulthood a few years back but his growth was stunted. Thought his father was sympathetic to his son's unfortunate situation the man of the house was often away in the nearby mine and his mom and sister could be quite mean. The two of them mocked him for his small size, the sister teasingly and the mother a little more harshly as she had to pick up the slack whenever the father was away. He had always been excited when Castella had a moment to tell tales of the roads she had travelled in order to make a profit.

“I've left home. I want to come with you Castella, if you'll have me.” Tevid had a stubborn look upon his face, he was serious about this.

“I can't take you with me Tevid, not after your folks gave me so much! Go back.”

“No. Sorry Castella that I have to put you in this situation, but I cannot go back. If you won't take me, then I will go alone. There's nothing for me in that village.”

Castella studied the short humanoid. She saw determination in his eyes. That, as well as his words, made her consider taking him along. She could use the help. Also, travelling with an experienced merchant would be far safer than a total novice adventuring all on his lonesome. In that regard, if Tevid was intent on leaving, the best way she could repay his parents hospitality would be to protect the halfling.

“Since it looks like you've already made your decision, I suppose you leave me with not much in the way of choice.” Castella sighed. Then she raised a single finger, straight as an arrow. “But you'll have to pull your weight. No slacking, I hope you understand that. You'll find me to be a hard taskmaster.” She wasn't, but said so regardless just in case it was enough to convince him this wasn't a good idea. It wasn't. Tevid's eyes, welling with tears of gratitude looked up at her.

“Thank you Castella. I swear I shall prove my worth to you.”

“Did you at least leave your family a note?”

Tevid nodded.

Castella smiled. “So, you aren't completely thoughtless then.”

“Would you blame me if I didn't?” Tevid's voice took on a serious tone, clearly bearing a lot of anger towards his family. Some of his family, anyway. “They didn't exactly treat me well, father excepted.”

“Worry not. I did see some of what you are referring too. You won't have to be concerned about me abusing you here.” Castella switched her sympathetic expression to a joking smirk. “Unless you don't work hard enough. Then I'll have to punish you.”

Tevid looked horrified for a moment before realising that she was joking and that he hadn't jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. He laughed. “I'll be sure to avoid that, Castella.”

“Before we set off on our journey, where is it that you want to go? Do you have somewhere in mind or will you just come along with me for the ride?”

Shuffling nervously, Tevid took a while to answer. “I want to be big. Castella, you told a story about the garden of growth, where a special kind of potato grows with magic properties. The type of magic properties that make the eater of these potatoes get bigger.”

“I didn't think anyone listened to my stories.” Castella said, smiling proudly. “But you must know that I don't know how true that story is, Tevid. I was told it by a bard, who was told it by an adventurer, who was told it by a priest. You would throw away your life here on such a slim hope?”

“I mean, I'm not giving everything away to do this. If I'm wrong and the garden doesn't exist, I can always begin elsewhere.”

“The world can be a cruel place Tevid. For a halfling, a race that is smaller and weaker than others, this is especially true.”

“Yes. I know all this Castella. And yet I came regardless. You may think me a foolish little halfling, but this is what I want. All I ask is that you can drop me off as near to the supposed location of the garden as possible, without deterring from your route or hindering your business.”

“As it happens, the trade route I travel goes rather close to where the story said the garden was, so I'll practically be able to take you there!” Castella, touched by the halfling's dream to be bigger, told a lie. In her mind she could always visit the more rural villages and settlements out that way. Perhaps the people would be grateful that a merchant had come so far to trade with them.

“That's... convenient.” Tevid thought the coincidence to be strange but didn't press the point further.

“Come on!” Castella said, opening the carriage up for Tevid to climb up inside. “There's an empty cage in there for you to sleep in. If that isn't good enough for you then I suppose you can take the spare bedroll.” She said with a laugh as he entered what would be his new home for the next few weeks, the merchant returning to her seat on top of the carriage. She had some ground to cover.

A couple weeks later, the two person merchant team had passed through four villages, trading plenty in each. While the usual customers that Castella visited on her trip would be disappointed and maybe be less willing to trade so generously next time she came around, these new villages were ecstatic at her presence. Tevid had proved to be no slouch either, lugging around whatever she needed him to whenever she needed it moving. Despite his small size, he was managing to keep up.

Currently they were staying outside of a village that clearly didn't get much traffic, they sat on a rolled out rug on the ground beside a campfire. Tevid had made pork skewers with some meat they bought from the village butcher and they cooked them together over the flame.

“So, you miss your family yet?” Castella asked.

“A little. But what it is I think that I really miss is the familiarity.”

“Oh? What makes you say that? Is living on the road a little overwhelming to you?” The merchant's white teeth clamped onto a piece of meat and tore it from the wooden skewer.

“Not exactly. I love this life so far. It's so... freeing. By comparison living with my family in the village was like a prison.” Tevid explained.

Castella nodded, finishing her food and grabbing another skewer to cook. They retreated into a comfortable silence until she had a thought to remove her leather shoes, untying the laces and freeing her sore feet, calloused in a few spots because of all the walking she'd done. Tevid shuffled away from her a little uncomfortably but she didn't notice.

Once she was full, Castella told Tevid that he was welcome to eat what was left and started massaging her still warm, damp feet, moaning with relief as she eased the knots from her flesh. Tevid soon finished up the last of the grub and was sat doing nothing. This led to Castella seeing an opportunity to add another task to Tevid's duties.

“Tevid.” Castella put on the cutest voice that she could manage, knowing that she was about to ask something unpleasant. “Would you be so kind as to rub my feet for me? They are so damn sore from all the time spent on them and a self massage just isn't cutting it.”

“Sorry Castella.” Tevid apologised, blushing. He had been able to smell the sweaty aroma of her feet since she removed her footwear but politely chose not to mention it. “But that's going to have to be no.”

“Aww. But your little hands would be so good at finding those hidden tender spots that will just make me melt.” She grinned, raising a foot towards Tevid, wiggling her toes teasingly and displaying her milky white wrinkled sole.

“Castella. I said no!” Tevid's reaction was unexpected and shocked her out of the playful mood Castella had fallen into.

Silence returned, though this time it was tense and heavy rather than the comfortable kind of silence shared by two friends. However the merchant knew people, she knew how to sell to them but more importantly she knew how to read them. It was obvious that somehow the topic of feet somehow rubbed Tevid the wrong way, and it was often better address the problem immediately rather than allow it to become a rift between them.

“Tevid, I--”

“Don't worry about it Castella. You didn't know that it would hit my button. It's fine.”

“But... why? What is it Tevid? You should tell me so that I don't accidentally piss you off again.”

Tevid considered this, then sighed when he realised that she was right. “Okay. I'll tell you. But please, don't laugh?”

“I promise I won't.”

“You see, because I'm small even for a halfling, that meant that my sister was bigger and stronger than me. At first, when our parents weren't around she'd wrestle me and win easily since she was larger. But simply winning became boring for her, it wasn't punishing enough for me. So she made the decision to wash her feet as little as possible, letting them get stinky and sweaty and dirty. Then the next time we'd wrestle, or rather she'd start wrestling me without my consent, she would pin me to the ground in such a way that her feet would be in my face. If I wanted to get up I had to do something. First, I had to sniff them each time. But every time I was made to smell her feet, my sister would grow more brazen. It escalated to kissing her smelly foot, then to licking. Eventually I had to serve her unless I wanted to get pinned to the ground with those filthy feet all over my defenceless face.”

“That's horrible!” Whilst staying with Tevid's family, she had noticed that his sister's feet, small next to her own, had quite a potent stench. She had no idea that the halfling girl had made them like that purposefully to torment a weak brother. “Did your mother and father not stop them?”

“Father never caught her doing it. Mother... she encouraged it. If she walked in on my sister making me smell, kiss or lick dirty feet she would simply leave us to it, not bothering to interfere. Until one day, the three of us were relaxing after chores when my mother asked my sister to make me lick both of their feet. My sister obliged of course, my mother sat and watch it unfold and soon enough the two of them were sat in chairs with me lapping away at their feet under the threat punishment if I stopped.” Tevid stopped talking then shuddered as he remembered his time at home.

“I'm starting to understand why you ran away.” Castella said, not envying her short companion. “But you don't need to worry any more Tevid. You're with me now, and I swear that you'll never need to go near my feet.”

“Thank you Castella.”

“No need to thank me.” Castella glanced at the slowly dimming fire before them. “We should probably head to bed soon. One of the roads we have to use is said to be dangerous. We'll need our wits about us.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Do you need me to wear my shoes whilst I sleep? I know my feet are quite smelly today and might stink up the inside of the carriage.” Castella made the offer out of sympathy for what the halfling had been through, though she wasn't looking forward to putting her aching feet back into those tight shoes that were moist with her sweat. She really needed to invest in a new pair.

“I don't think that will be necessary. I can stomach your stinky feet so long as you don't put them anywhere near my face.” Tevid wore an amused grin. “Although, you certainly have smelly feet Castella, I thought humans were supposed to be clean?”

Castella mirrored Tevid's jokey expression. “How dare you halfling? I give you a fine carriage to sleep in, albeit one that smells like sweaty human feet, and this is how you treat me? It seems that what they say about your kind is true!”

“And what is that?”

“That... that you're all ungrateful midgets!”

The two of them burst into laughter at the ridiculous exchange. They were happy to depart from the sombre mood set by tales of Tevid's home life. Banter between friends continued on for a while, lasting up until the moment that the smaller of the pair broke into a big yawn.

“Looks like it might be time to go to bed for us!” Castella said, fighting off the urge to yawn herself.

“Yeah. Didn't you say the next part of our journey will be dangerous? Getting some sleep is a good idea.” Tevid agreed, and they put out the fire, gathered up their belongings and retired to Castella's carriage for the night.

The following day was going fantastically. A few of the villagers came over to see off their visitors as Castella and Tevid were preparing to leave, providing the two of them with complimentary food stocks and wishing them well.

Journeying across the now much more mountainous road, the ride was a lot more rickety but this fresh discomfort was offset by the pleasant mood given to them by the kind villagers. Castella silently contemplated that coming this way might be a good business decision every now and again, as these folk who lived in the middle of nowhere were always happy to trade with her. Tevid running away from home had proven to be a form of blessing to the merchant and her coinpurse. But good things never last. In spite of the bright, cloudless sky and good fortune thus far, something had to go wrong.

“Shit!” Castella pulled on the reins far earlier than she would on a regular, well maintained road but on these rocky mountain roads with loose stones aplenty she gave the horse more than enough time to come to a steady stop just to be safe. Up ahead blocking the road was a felled tree spanning the whole width of the road onwards with no way to get past.

Once the carriage had been still for a few seconds the side door opened up and a halfling jumped out with an axe in hand. “Castella! What's wrong!”

“Relax Tevid. We haven't been attacked.” Castella jumped down from on top of the carriage and moved to the horse's side to scratch him behind the ear to settle the animal down. “And bring that axe over here. We got an obstacle in the way.”

Tevid walked over to join Castella and cursed just as she had upon seeing the tree. “That's a thick trunk. How long do you think it'll take us to cut through? Is it too heavy to just move it out of the way?”

“No idea how long it'll take to break through. But you're more than welcome to try shifting it even a little bit.” Castella waved at the tree and Tevid went over to give it a firm shove. It didn't move even a bit.

“So what now? Chop it in half and try to push the chunks out of the way?”

“Looks like that's the only way.” Castella took a seat on the ground and got comfortable, earning an incredulous look from Tevid. “What?” She asked with a smile “Get chopping, we don't have all day.”

Tevid shook his head and smiled back. “Not gonna help? Are you really going to make your halfling slave do all the work as usual?”

Castella laughed. “Of course! Did you expect anything else?”

As ordered, Tevid got to work without complaint. During the hard labour he considered the situation between him and the benevolent human merchant allowing him to accompany her. Over the weeks that they had spent together the halfling was beginning to develop a crush on his saviour and was more than happy to do as she asked. In fact, doing as she commanded made him a little too happy and caused Tevid to wonder if maybe the treatment by his mother and sister back home had knocked a few screws loose in his brain and crossed some wires. He wanted her to boss him around, relaxing whilst she watched him sweat and toil. Even the idea of her forcing those smelly human feet on him invoked temptations of sweet submission, though he wouldn't look forward to the moment he actually came into contact with them. His sister, who didn't work too much, had bad enough feet. Knowing how Castella had little time to wash whilst on the road and all the time she spent wearing those walking boots barefoot, made him fearful of how foul they would smell up close and personal. At least she was only a human and not one of the stinkier races of this world, like an ogre or something.

After hours of hacking at the log with his axe, Tevid felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Castella smiling at him. “Come on. You've done enough. Whilst you were entranced by your work I sneaked off and found a freshwater spring nearby, just over there.” She pointed to the treeline. Tevid couldn't hear the trickle of water, but imagined he would soon enough if he entered the trees. “I'll finish off the last bit of work, you go get a drink and give yourself a quick wash. You've earned it.”

Tevid blushed at the complement. “Thanks Castella. I'll do just that.” Then a wry smile appeared on his face. “Don't over exert yourself. I know how fragile you humans can be.”

Castella chuckled. “Off you go, before I mistake your head for this log and spilt that open instead.”

Finding the spring easily enough, Tevid spent a good few minutes just drinking the refreshing water, gulping it down. A slightly more perverted part of himself urged him onwards, thinking about how Castella probably used the spring to wash herself and that some of that same water maybe hadn't yet been washed away by the connected stream.

It was when Tevid was mid wash that he heard something that chilled him to the bone, in spite of the agreeably tempered water. The scream obviously came from one person. “Castella!” The halfling yelled, not bothering to dry himself off before running out of the fountain and slipping into his undergarments. There was no time for more clothing, Castella might have been in danger. Tevid hoped that his was simply her playing a prank, and that when he arrived she would laugh and tease him.

Any hopes of safety were dashed however when the half naked halfling emerged onto the road and was faced by a huge humanoid holding Castella in the air, staring at the merchant with a grin of sharp teeth. Tevid's first thoughts upon seeing the dark purple skinned ogress were quite unexpected; he saw the shape of the monster's body and thought about how good it looked. Her rump and breast were well pronounced and she had little fat and a lot of muscle. The face of the ogress, though cruel, angular and intimidating by nature's design, was surprisingly attractive. With stark white hair, this ogress acted as evidence to the varied appearances of ogres. It was what they were known for, secondary to their unmatched stench of course. The colour of their hair and skin was influenced by a combination of genes and the climate they spend early life in, leading to ogre gatherings boasting quite the colourful population. Due to her purple skin, this ogress could be determined to be from a mountainous environment. Emerging from her temples were a pair of large black horns, horns which had multiple smaller horns branching off. The big pair of horns that crowned the heads of ogres were something that all members of the species had in common, the horns growing larger and developing more branches as they advanced through their long lifespans.

The beast was massive, towering over Tevid. Fear filled him, but he grit his teeth and chased off the fear, steeling himself before marching over to the ogress.

“Put her down!” Tevid shouted at the top of his lungs, despite being unarmed. Bravery came easily when Castella was in trouble.

“Tevid! No!” Castella yelled, wriggling around in the fiend's long purple fingers topped by long, sharp black fingernails.

“Did I hear something? It sounded small. Very small and very pitiful.” The ogress spoke, her voice deep and mocking. She had caught sight of the approaching halfling in her peripheral vision and dismissed him.

“Don't ignore me!” Tevid shouted again, his desperation clear. He ran up to the ogress's well-worn, dark brown boot and started raining punches down on the tough piece of footwear that likely used up more leather than he would use in a lifetime.

“Aww, would you look at that human. Your tiny pet is trying to save you!” The ogress bellowed with laughter, showering Castella with onion scented spittle. She stopped laughing, using the hand not holding the merchant to stroke her chin. “Hmm. Perhaps your little friend would make a good pet for me and my friends, what do you say human?”

“Leave him alone you wretch!” Castella shouted at the ogress, shaking off the droplets of spit rolling down her face, disgusted. Turning her attention from her captor to Tevid, Castella continued to shout. “RUN TEVID! GET AWAY FROM HERE!” She didn't tell him where to go, knowing that the ogress would likely follow. She hoped that he had the sense to run back to the village they last stayed at, it wasn't so far away.

Ignoring the warning, Tevid attacked the giant foot harder. The ogress only giggled, gazing down at him with interest. It was at this exact moment that the monster decided that taking the halfling would be far more interesting to take with her than yet another human. The pounding on the outside of her boot was quite pleasant and she fell into a rabbit hole of menacing thoughts regarding the small male and her foot. Her lips curled upwards into a cruel grin.

Sweeping a huge purple hand, the ogress swept Tevid up into her clammy, pale purple palm, bringing him up in front of her grinning face alongside Castella. She looked at them as a small child would dolls, choosing which she would play with and which would be tossed aside, forgotten. Tevid hadn't noticed before, but up close it was hard to miss the many bits of metal decorating the giant purple face. Rings of steel in her ears, in her eyebrows, her nose. “Okay, I know ogresses are not usually seen as honest, but I'm going to be honest with the two of you right now. One of you is coming with me, to be my new slave. And oh boy, I'm gonna make you do gross shit. Stuff that will traumatise you. However I won't plan on letting you leave, so as long as it doesn't affect your servitude, traumatising you won't matter. The reason I'm telling you this is because I want you to vote. Either for yourself, or the other person. The winner of the vote gets to come with me and the loser has to go back to their boring life. Vote now, unless you want me to take both of you.”

Tevid and Castella looked at each other, their fearful eyes meeting before ripping apart so as it hide their thoughts from the other. They couldn't beat an ogress, they had to go along with her game. But now, each of them was filling with anxiety that they might become a slave to this foul creature.

Clenching his fists, the helpless halfling spoke first. “Take me! Let Castella go!” Tears rolled down his cheeks. Tevid didn't want his journey to end like this, escaping the domination of a couple women a little bigger than he was just to end up being dominated by a woman a lot bigger than he was, but he couldn't leave Castella to a fate like this. She had saved him, he owed her a lot.

“Tevid!” Castella was crying too now, touched by her assistant's devotion. During their time spent together, the loyal halfling more than willing to serve her had carved his own special place in her heart. Although, she couldn't think of much worse than being enslaved by a disgusting ogress. She looked into the hungry eyes of the being that held her. “Take me! Give Tevid a chance to reach his goal, I'll be your slave.”

The ogress cackled. “I never thought I'd have TWO people asking me to enslave them! This is hilarious, wait until I tell the girls about this. But this talk of the halfling having a goal has caught my attention. Tell me, little one, what is it you seek? Perhaps I can help you.”

Tevid blushed, suddenly becoming tight lipped. The magic potatoes were supposed to cause growth. If this ogress got any larger, she would bring misery untold. The ogress saw this and shook her head gently, her terrifying grin shrinking to a wry smile. “Oh sweet halfling, you poor thing. Do you believe that I can't get all the information out of you that I want? We ogresses are experts in the arts of torture, but much different torture methods than what you smaller species would be used to. Anyway, you'll find out soon enough because I'm casting my vote, and I choose you. That's two votes to one.”

“No!” Castella yelled as she was lowered to the ground, protesting despite a part of her deep down being extremely grateful. Tevid had seemed happy to take this arrow for her, wasn't this the best option. Those thoughts were reburied when she saw her assistant's face. He was shaking his head in fear and disbelief whilst the ogress licked her lips with a hulking pink tongue, revealing yet another piercing on her tongue.

“Go away, human.” The ogress addressed Castella with a cold tone, trying not to laugh as she did so. It was fun for her, splitting these two apart in order to subject one to a life of torment.

Castella looked lost and hopeless. She didn't know what to do. “Tevid! This isn't over!” She promised. “I'll get help and find you, I swear it!” Meeting the halfling's eyes for what might have been the final time, Castella unhooked her horse and galloped the way she had come, she could come back for the carriage and its supplies later.

“Alone at last.” The ogress purred. “I suppose you should know the name of your new owner. I am Shazgob, a wandering ogress from the mountains. Don't worry, I have already thought of an ingenious way of transporting you, but first I have a gift for my new slave.” Giggling, Shazgob stripped Tevid of his clothing, the fight he put up totally useless, leaving him naked in her hands. Then she levelled the tip of a fingernail in front of him and lightly placed the sharp point over Tevid's heart. Shazgob started murmuring unintelligible words, her face a mask of concentration. It didn't suit the gleefully cruel ogress. Soon enough, the finger retracted, the spell over with.

“Did you feel anything, halfling?” Tevid shook his head, still wordless as he swallowed the reality of his fate. “Didn't think you would. I've made you invincible. I could bite you, crush you in my hand, sit on you, you'd be perfectly fine after any of that. But I'm not going to do any of that today. No, today, you're going in a special place.”

A sound came from below, followed by a strong, vile smell. The ogress's smile grew when she saw the halfling begin to panic, it seemed that he had previous experience with feet. She had stomped on the toe of her right boot with her left, weighing the piece of footwear down and wriggling the right foot out of the boot. Shazgob sighed with happiness as she felt the cool breeze on her warm purple toes, all five of which were dripping with thick sweat.

Shazgob fell to her rear, taking a seat on the ground. The sounds of whimpering coming from her new toy made her laugh, apparently all fight had left him because his struggles in her hand had ceased. “You and my foot are about the same size, looks like. Actually...” She moved her hand near her now bare foot, comparing the size of her new slave to her reeking appendage. “It looks like you're even smaller! This isn't going to be as snug and cosy for you as I imagined, but worry not, my foot will be the greatest company you could possibly ask for.” Shazgob leaned over so that her mouth was close to Tevid. He shivered as her warm, onion scented breath washed over him. “Just in case you don't yet understand, my little pet, you'll be staying in my boot for the foreseeable future. Alongside my big foot. And let me warn you, even among my tribe, I was infamous for how smelly my feet are.”

“Please! No!” Tevid yelled, finally rediscovering his voice, albeit a terrified one. Still being held in close proximity to the purple foot that was larger than he was, he was inhaling not air but the combination of potent, cheesy foot odour and foul ogre breath. The former was so much stronger that the latter was barely noticeable. His inability to fight against the muscular fingers holding him prisoner filled his mind with dread, knowing that he was helpless to stop her putting him into her gross boot.

And that's exactly what Shazgob did next. Grabbing the boot that had spent a couple minutes unfilled, perhaps for the first time in a while, and unceremoniously stuffed Tevid inside. The halfling didn't even get chance to experience the hot, smelly air flowing out of the boot's opening, to adapt to the eye-watering odour as the ogress slowly but painfully lowered him into the rotten piece of footwear. Nope, Shazgob was a creature who enjoyed overwhelming her victims. She submerged her plaything into the stinking depths of the boot, he didn't even manage a scream before he found himself pressed up against the slimy insole by those purple fingers, dropped into a world of heat, sweat and stench. At least, Tevid's five captors lefts him alone in the confine of an ogress' old boot, his face planted against the grime-ridden insole and his body still in the stem. If Shazgob's foot were to join him, it would be a tight fit indeed.

But such things weren't about to stop the determined ogress. Her foot bluntly followed the halfling with very little hesitation. From Tevid's perspective, after pulling his face away from the sticky surface, bits of dirt and grime clinging to his skin, witnessing the huge foot enter the boot was like seeing a solar eclipse. He had been staring beyond his naked body and up the length of the boot, up to where the light of day was filtering in. The light had been blocked first by the appearance of those thick, purple toes topped by nails of black, completely robbing Tevid of light when the terrible toes dipped and entered the boot. Scrabbling in fear, the halfling managed only to push himself further inside in an effort to escape, sliding his nude form along the warm, damp insole and covering himself in more blackened foot waste. Foot odour was king here, choking Tevid with every breath. Yet it hadn't yet reached its fullest. No, the smell and heat grew in unison as Shazgob put the boot back on.

When the toes met the insole they came to a halt, wiggling around as if expecting to find Tevid there. Instead they only found his legs. This was the first moment of contact he had with Shazgob's foot and it was far from a pleasant one. The toes that grappled at his legs soaked his exposed skin in hot sweat. He felt like he could sense the cruel ogress' excitement from the behaviour of her expressive toes, the toes that were now greedily climbing up his body. It didn't take long for them to meet Tevid's disgusted face, mashing it between them. At this point Tevid made the horrific discovery of Shazgob's hoards of toejam, trying to wrench his head from between any pair of toes. But the toes, namely her second and third ones, grasped onto the halfling's head, and continued into the boot, bringing Tevid all the way inside. His body was fully extended and trapped as the foot, now properly inside the boot, rested upon him with all of the weight of an ogress; apparently she had stood up at some point. It was indeed a tight fit and though the stench was far beyond what Tevid thought possible in this world, Shazgob's sole was unexpectedly soft against his body. While bearing the weight of a being far larger than himself was extremely uncomfortable, the pressure stopped a little short of actually being truly painful, likely due to the spell cast on him earlier.

Shazgob found her underfoot companion to be immensely comfortable. He fit fantastically under her foot and she let him know how happy she was by drumming her heavy toes on his face. A hilarious (in her opinion) idea came to her and she tried scrunching her foot in such a way that the skin of the lower arch would wrinkle, hopefully stimulating the halfling's miniscule penis. How humiliating it would be, if she were able to make this tiny male erect under her awful, sweaty foot. Chuckling, the ogress set off back to her cave, wondering how best to make her slave squeal about the truth of his journey. She reckoned that long hours being stomped and crushed under her smelly sole would break him easily enough. Or, she thought as she appraised her long, black nails, perhaps she could put the tips to his small, sensitive feet. The possibilities were vast for a creative torturer such as Shazgob.

2 months later.

Tevid woke up as he always did. Packed into a rotten old boot with a stinky purple foot. The poor halfling struggled to remember a night not consumed by darkness, sweat and rancid foot odour. He had no idea whether or not Shazgob was awake or asleep, or if she even planned on sleeping in this morning. Funnily enough, he missed being back home. Sure, there he had to stomach his sister's feet, but even they were infinitely preferable to this nightmare.

The eventual scrunch of long, greasy toes around his noggin usually meant the ogress had awakened, though sometimes she was mean enough to torment her slave whilst being fast asleep. This morning was not the case thankfully and she soon pulled her feet free of those dastardly boots. Her hand dove in afterwards, finding Tevid with relative ease and fishing him out of the stink den. Sometimes the heat and pressure overnight would be enough to glue him to the bottom of her foot, which Shazgob never failed to find funny when it did occur.

“Rest well, little one?” Shazgob asked with a toothy grin. Before Tevid even got chance to answer the ogress yawned. During the night she would strip off and sleep in the nude, save for her footwear obviously. Perhaps the only somewhat arousing sight left in the halfling's life was because of this. It was difficult to deny that the monster had an athletic, curvy body by normal standards. If only she weren't huge, evil and horrendously stinky he might have actually found her attractive. These thoughts were muted when Shazgob spat a mouthful of smelly saliva onto Tevid's equally naked body before using him for a morning wash. But in ogress terms, a 'morning wash' was drastically different to what any civilised person would expect.

Shazgob used her sentient toy as a regular person would use a sponge, with lots of her thick saliva substituting for lotion. She had a lot of fun rubbing the fleshy, wet sponge along every inch of her skin, the dirt, oils and body sweat being transferred onto him. Every step of the way the ogress would ensure that his mouth was facing her skin, picking up dozens of awful, varied flavours along the way. She would take great care spending plenty of time on her shaven yet slimy armpits, scrubbing the tiny nude male into the soft, stubbly skin tainted with acrid armpit sweat.

The armpits weren't the only location on her body that Shazgob enjoyed 'washing' with new methods. A fresh glob of spit was applied to Tevid and she descended her body. Somewhat kindly, she would extend his time being mashed against her large breasts, knowing that they were one of the only parts of her body that her slave enjoyed. But what Shazgob liked doing more was robbing him of those huge breasts, taking him even further down. Placing his body between both palms, the ogress would insert his head into her bellybutton, rolling him between the palms like a spinning brush.

Not even bothering to protest any more, Tevid just groaned when Shazgob plucked his head from her bellybutton and took him lower still, to the worst part of the wash. Though by now, the halfling thought himself lucky that he wasn't simply relegated to a long day serving those foul feet again, the most disgusting part of the ogress' body by a long shot. Between her legs, Shazgob had grabbed him by his hands and feet and was whistling merrily as she flossed him between her legs, favouring the taint and ass over the slightly more attractive prospect of a long unwashed pussy. Her sponge became noticeably slicker after a couple swipes between her firm butt cheeks, being lubricated by the stash of slick sweat held there thanks to a nomadic lifestyle featuring a lot of walking. By the time Shazgob had finished washing, Tevid was breathless and exhausted by the rigorous experience, but the day was far from over for him.

“Breakfast time!” Shazgob informed her slave, uncaring that the sun was nearing its zenith. As usual, breakfast consisted of the leftover 'ogre mush' Shazgob had made last night and deposited into the boot where Tevid hadn't slept to be kept warm and flavoursome by her other sweaty foot. He didn't know exactly what Shazgob did to make the awful food, if it could be called food, but he had caught glimpses of her spitting into the bowl as she made it, emptying the puddles of foot sweat that frequently stagnated on the insoles of her boots, followed by actual edible ingredients like whatever vegetables and meat she had found the day before. Once the solids were mushed and combined into a gross, runny meal, the ogress would season the dish with ground up toenail clippings. Apparently it was an ogre delicacy. As the most abhorrent thing Tevid had ever consumed, he agreed wholeheartedly. If only his tormentor was willing to let him eat anything else. Over the course of a night in a boot the mixture thickened up and coated the insole, very little remained on Shazgob's foot in the morning though she would always lick it off herself.

So for Tevid to eat his breakfast, the ogress dropped him into the boot where the food was located, leaving him to his own devices whilst she got dressed and went off gallivanting barefooted outside of the cave she had made home as she waited for the arrival of her friends. Tevid began eating the ogre mush quickly, knowing that if it wasn't all gone by the time she returned there would be punishments. He wept as he ate, aware of the filth and stinky saliva that coated his body. The mush was further flavoured by the grime and foot gunk that accumulated naturally within the environment of the ogress' boot and having sampled freshly made ogre mush, he knew that this was the more potent meal.

Digging into the set, uncomfortably warm mush with his hands and scooping it into his mouth. Inevitably he picked up a good about of the foot waste that had been stomped into a blackened grime on the insole. Other than the lumps of foulness that collected on the edges of the insoles, the surface was slick from many years of absorbing sweat and this transferred a salty flavour to the mush, distinct from the sourness of the dark goop. If only he had been the same size as Shazgob, then this would have taken him under a couple minutes, amounting to one or two mouthfuls, but with the size discrepancy it took Tevid much longer. So long in fact that he heard loud footsteps signalling the return of an ogress.

“Shit!” He swore, speeding up his consumption of the vile excuse for food. He did not want the ogress to find him still eating. Though, it seemed like she had only just left. It wasn't fair for her to return so quickly, but in the time he'd known her she'd proven to be anything but fair. Hopefully the punishment would be somewhat merciful, is what he thought as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of ogre mush that had been stomped and re-cooked by a massive, stinky foot. Strangely, no invasive, purple hand came to fish him out. Tevid thought he could hear a voice outside of the boot, but he wasn't sure. Regardless, he finished his breakfast in record time thanks to the apparently unrealised fear that Shazgob had come home early.

Rather than wait around here, constantly inhaling the strong aroma living with him inside the boot, Tevid chose to try and grab the attention of whoever had come into the cave. What could go wrong? If it was Shazgob, she could be testing his alertness to her presence. If it was anything else, there was potential to be rescued. Moving to the heel of the boot, Tevid stood upright and placed a hand on either side of the seemingly always moist surface and started rocking from side to side. He'd tried climbing out before, and it hadn't worked. Perhaps if he'd been a muscle-bound freak he'd have been able to climb up the shaft however the sweat stained sides were far too slick. Tipping the boot over might have been a plausible idea, but with how long it would take alongside the possibility of the ogress coming back at any moment the risk was too great for him. When he was desperate enough, he might attempt it. Knowing that something else was in the cave was enough for now. If it was the kind of wild animal that might tear him to shreds, the putrid odour leaking out of the boot should be enough to deter it from searching from tasty snacks within.

Tevid gasped when he felt the boot suddenly get lifted into the air. It had happened many times before during his time with Shazgob, but every time he'd been snugly lodged against her foot. He stumbled, not used to the sensation whilst actually standing and having room to move around. An even stranger sensation followed, the boot was being tipped. The shaft of the boot that had led upwards before soon faced the hard ground of the cave and the halfling came tumbling out, unable to get a grasp of the inside, and crashed onto the floor.

“Now, what do we have here?” A voice spoke. It wasn't Shazgob, he knew her voice, but it shared a lot of similarities. Cruelty for the most part, but this was hidden behind a softer, lighter tone than he was used to from the dominant purple ogress. Turning over onto his back, Tevid found himself being stared at by a crouching ogress, and though she was of about the same size and had a slightly pudgier body than Shazgob, the burnt orange skin and short, crimson red hair differentiated her from Tevid's tormentor. The expression on her face made this new ogress look dumber too, by comparison to the sharp, cunning face belonging to Shazgob. Also unlike Shazgob, she had only a single facial piercing: a golden nose ring on her left nostril.

A long, black fingernail poked at the halfling, jabbing at his stomach a couple times. Involuntarily, he let out a small giggle which brought a wide grin to the orange ogress. “Do you belong to Shazgob, little man? She did mention in her message that she had come across a new slave that was a blast to play with.”

Tevid nodded, slowly and shyly, not wanting to provoke Shazgob's friend to do anything disgusting with him. But asking an ogress to refrain from doing anything disgusting was like asking an alcoholic to quit drinking: unlikely to yield any results.

“Excellent! I want to see how well she's trained you. Assuming she left you in her boot whilst she went out for a walk, we should have some time yet before she comes back. So let's make that time count, shall we?”

Leaning against the wall of the cave, this new ogress shifted from her crouch to being seated by hefting her legs out from under her, laying them flat with the soles of her black boots facing Tevid. One a time her legs came back within reach of her hands where she would then tug off the boots, filling the cave with a fresh dose of foot odour. On her wide, orange feet the ogress had a pair of thick, woolen socks. How many sheep had been sheared to create those things? Regardless of the cost of materials, it was clear that she wore them excessively. A multitude of holes, tears and threadbare patches decorated the socks, exposing the sweaty, meaty flesh of the soles and a few of her pudgy toes. Perhaps the material had been white once, long ago, but now it was soiled due to absorbing copious amounts of foot sweat, turning to shades of dark grey or revolting yellow. Tevid struggled to his feet, which was quite challenging with a pair of massive, reeking, socked soles only a few steps away.

“Give me a massage, halfling. Use your entire body, I want to really feel it. You're more than welcome to throw in plenty of kisses too; in fact it is encouraged.” The ogress giggled as she gave her order.

For a moment, Tevid's eyes glanced at the cave entrance. He could run, flee from the giant feet presented to him. But Shazgob was out there, among the trees, hunting. Sure, maybe his short yet agile legs would be able to carry him out of the cave before the orange ogress managed to realise what was happening, get up and give chase. But with a pair of determined ogresses hunting him, there was a very slim chance of him escaping. Also from what Shazgob had told him with some of her seemingly endless verbal teases and taunts, a second friend of hers was also on her way.

Sighing, releasing the building rebellion as well as his breath, Tevid advanced over to the pair of big feet awaiting him. Laying his hands on the socked sole, he applied pressure, enough to provide a massage to the skin hidden behind the sock. As his fingers sunk into the material, stored up sweat was expunged from the fibres, spilling out and drenching his arms in the strongly scented liquid. At this point, having the foot sweat of an ogress on his skin was common for Tevid and though it still bothered him greatly, he'd become used to it enough to not retch at the sensation.

“Can you feel that?” He asked the owner of the foot who was spectating his ordeal with amusement. The last thing that he wanted was a disappointed ogress eager to dish out stinky punishment.

“Just about. Keep going, and don't forget kisses! In fact, you look quite thirsty little one. Suck some of the sweat out of my sock. Don't worry, there's plenty there and I can replenish it easy enough.”

Gulping, Tevid tried to mentally prepare himself. The most traumatising part of his enslavement to Shazgob was the flavour of her rancid feet. The taste was extremely potent and sharp, like bitter cheese with a strong, salty after-taste. A night of worshipping the feet of the purple ogress would leave his mouth tainted by the flavour which persisted until the next foot licking session.

Biting down on a yellowed patch of sock, Tevid screwed his eyes shut as the vile substance burst out and filled his mouth. It was quite thick, much like that of Shazgob's, but unlike Shazgob's foot sweat this seemed to be much sourer and leave a vinegary after-taste behind once swallowed. Pulling away, Tevid coughed a couple of times, but was quick to recover and plant a kiss onto the socked foot, pressing his little face deep into the sweaty material that he had literally just finished sucking foot sweat out of.

“How gracious of you!” The ogress was howling with laughter, appeased by the halfling's obedience. At the very least she would give a glowing review to Shazgob upon her return, a review that he was paying for with humiliation from his dwindling source. Not wanting the orange ogress to change her mind, he continued the massage and worship combination with maximum effort.

Picking up one of her boots, the ogress gave the opening a sniff. “Wow, that's stinky. Even for an ogre boot. I must say, you're pretty tough to even be standing near my feet. I wonder, is that toughness all yours, or have you acquired it during your time with my good friend?” She asked rhetorically, wiggling her toes absently as she was thinking. The question got Tevid thinking too. He didn't think that he had been all that tough before encountering Shazgob, but she had commented a few times that it took him longer to faint during exposure to her titanic foot stench. Had his sister unknowingly trained him for this horrific twist in life?

Until Shazgob came back to the cave, Tevid kept massaging. At times, he had to rub the damp, doughy flesh of this ogress' sole through one of the holes in her sock. The ogress offered both compliments and words of advice as he worked on her feet, delivering both with a smile of smug superiority plastered on her face. When she opened her mouth to instruct Tevid to move onto the second foot, Shazgob entered the cave, carrying a few deer dangling by their legs from one hand and a sack full of vegetables in the other. The sack was made of material that looked suspiciously like the orange ogress' socks, and was stained in a similar way. Not as stained as the socks, but discoloured all the same.

“Glasha?” Shazgob said, blinking to adjust to the reduced light in the cave, smiling a grin of recognition.

“Shazgob! You finally arrived! As you can see, I made myself at home and made good use of your slave. He's good, but I see more than a few areas that he could improve in.” Glasha commented, pulling her feet away from a shocked Tevid. Venomous thoughts brewed within his head. After all he'd done for her, she told Shazgob that? He shivered as Shazgob's eyes turned to him, the glint in them promising punishment.

“Well, I'm sure between the two of us we can offer enough... encouragement. Did you see Yazgash on your travels, or is she even later than you are?”

“Late? I wasn't aware that you had specified a time. The message carried by the hawk just said to come here so I did. Okay, I stopped at a couple villages on my way for some fun, but I made it didn't I?” Glasha said as she rammed her feet back into her boots, giving each a couple of stomps to ensure they were on properly. “Besides, Yazgash has to walk all the way from the badlands. That's a long way, even for a trooper like her.”

“I suppose you're right.” Shazgob agreed, looking down at her own bare purple feet. When her head raised once more, she was staring at Tevid expectantly. “I've just noticed that my feet are both filthy and sweaty from all the walking around without boots I have done this morning. While we wait for our belated pal, I think it is a good time to show you how well my little slave can clean feet. Come on Tevid, get that tongue ready you've got quite the task ahead of you!” Shazgob laughed, sitting down and presented her feet in the same way that Glasha had, showing him the patches of blackened sole that he had to clean with his mouth.

“I'd hurry up, little one.” Glasha said softly, moving to his flank. “You don't want me to make you clean her feet, do you?”

Tevid shook his head, gulped and went over to begin lapping at Shazgob's soles. Oddly enough the dirt somewhat took away from the putrid natural flavour of her feet, meaning that he much preferred cleaning them in this state rather than straight out of a hot, steaming boot. Though it was still far from a pleasant task and the second ogress stood behind didn't help matters much. But things could only get worse from here, with one final, foul tempered ogress still to arrive.

In the days leading up to the arrival of the third ogress, Tevid's torturous slavery to his ogress master became much more tedious. With Glasha now staying in the cave with them, Shazgob upped her game in order to impress her equally sadistic friend. Rather than spending most of the time in her boot, he instead spent most of his time serving their smelly bodies, primarily their huge feet. Licking, kissing and rubbing the odious things for all he was worth. The purple ogress didn't hesitate to share her method of washing with Glasha, which led to the both of them striping off, loading their halfling sponge up with a glob of spit from both of their mouths before being using him to clean the stale sweat and dirt from their skin.

A second meal was added to Tevid's diet with the arrival of Glasha. Just how Shazgob knew how to make ogre mush, Glasha knew how to make soup using her own special recipe. It wasn't exactly a complex one either. Pulling a large bucket out of the loot bag she'd acquired from various villages during her travels, Glasha would use it as a large bowl to both make her foul invention and also feed Tevid. Removing one sock, she wrung it out above her gaping mouth, filling it with old, lukewarm foot sweat. Next came a thorough rinsing of her mouth before spitting the barbaric concoction into the bucket to be consumed. Often enough, there would be chunks of meat floating in the bucket, knocked loose from her sharp teeth and loaded with flavour due to a long period of marinating in the ogress' hot, moist breath and saliva. Admittedly, due to consistency and method of serving, Glasha's special soup was the preferable meal to eat out of the two available to him, though it still caused him to shudder with disgust whenever it touched his tongue.

Four days after Glasha showed up, the trio were in the cave together. After eating a hearty breakfast of ogre mush, the four big, stinking feet were giving Tevid quite the workout, playing a game where their sweaty feet would wrestle for supremacy over his tiny body, pinning him to the ground or sandwiching him between feet and squeezing him for all he was worth. Whoever had him when they got bored would have their feet licked clean first and the loser would have to wait, usually passing the time by putting on their boots and going for a long run. This time was different however, as the game was interrupted.

Stood in the mouth of the cave, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, was a large figure. She had been stood there silently for a while, watching the scene before her unfold. Tevid spotted her first, a feeling of dread filling him as he was swallowed by hot, smelly foot flesh. His tormentors hadn't yet noticed. From the pair of horns jutting from her head, it was obvious that she was an ogress. Her complexion was an olive green colour and overall she had a tribal appearance. Where Shazgob and Glasha clothed themselves in tanned leather and tough fabrics, this one was dressed in animal skins and furs (stained by body sweat, of course) with seemingly random pieces of metal armour attached here and there. The green ogress' black hair was worn in one single, long war-braid. On her right cheek she had painted something in red: five dots that decreased in size from left to right. She had piercings too, but not of metal. Her piercings were of immaculate white bone, mostly teeth but some were carved from larger bones. These piercings only really adorned her ears and one eyebrow, but it was quite the striking feature nonetheless.

For the better part of an hour, the green ogress remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt her friends' fun and games, and also because she enjoyed watching the tiny, pale male being mashed between their feet. Once she grew bored of merely watching she coughed loudly, attracting the attention of both ogresses who looked elated upon seeing the figure stood waiting.

“Yazgash!” They said, not quite simultaneously, confirming Tevid's educated guess that this was in fact the individual they were waiting for.

“Took you long enough to notice me.” Yazgash grumbled, though the slight smile showed that she was far from angry.

“How long were you stood there?” Shazgob asked.

“Almost an hour. Your slave spotted me a while back, but didn't say anything.” Yazgash's eyes shot to Tevid, who felt himself cower from her stare alone. This one was mean.

“Did he now?” Shazgob said, trying to look stern but failing to completely hide the smile of sadism brightening her face. “Well, I think that my little halfling should have to compensate you somehow, what do you think?”

A toothy grin came to the green ogress. “Hmmm...” Yazgash mused loudly, drawing snickers from the otherwise uninvolved Glasha. “I must say, the journey from the badlands all the way to this cave has been killer on my feet. A long, tender massage with a tiny tongue would hit the spot right about now.”

“I know just the little foot rubber who would be happy to help you with that!” Shazgob said, giggling, as she volunteered her slave.

Yazgash grunted happily, stepping forward and sitting heavily on the ground with her friends. With a couple forceful tugs, the green ogress managed to remove her footwear with not too much difficultly. The boots she wore were much different from Shazgob's and Glasha's boots, which had the craftsmanship of ogre cobblers. These were different. Much like her clothes, they were crafted from animal furs and skins in a fashion typical of the badlands from what little Tevid knew of the region. A land of orc tribes constantly at war, their wars consisting of wrestling and forced foot smelling. It was extremely difficult to overwhelm an orc with foot odour, but the residents of the badlands managed it on a daily basis. This led the halfling to believe that those boots that Yazgash wore were no joke in terms of manufacturing stink.

Washing through the cave was a reeking wave, distinct from that of the other two ogress' feet. It was the stench of pure cheesy feet, so strong that it was actually visible and made Tevid's eyes water as it made contact. Wrapped around her big, smelly, green feet were lengths of leather footwrap. Perhaps the footwraps were once brown a long time ago but they had been subjected to so much foot sweat that they were now nearly black in colour. Yazgash slowly unravelled them, releasing more and more foot stench as more and more of her flesh was exposed. The entire meaty, wrinkly sole was flushed a deep red over the natural green pigment thanks to being wrapping up in sweaty confines.

“What do you think girls?” Yazgash asked with no small amount of pride, flexing her newly freed bulbous green toes.

“I'm starting to see why they call you the 'Terror of the badlands'. Your feet stink something awful!” Glasha commented, wafting her orange hand under her gaping nostrils.

“Are you implying your own feet don't stink? When I walked in here and you guys were tormenting the tiny slave the smell kicked like a mule!” Yazgash fired back, chuckling heartily. The ogresses acted like they were trading insults but to them these were actually compliments.

Yazgash turned her menacing gaze to Tevid, who was cowering before her reeking feet. “Come on. You got a lot of licking to do.” She extended one foot, moving it towards him and burying his body in the shadow.

“What are you waiting for?” Shazgob asked, hoping that the immense foot odour assaulting his nose would be enough to cause disobedience, giving her reason to inflict punishment. She stomped one of her long, purple feet to drive the unspoken threat home.

Tevid began licking feet once more. Although it was just as torturous an experience as it had been the first time, so much licking of ogress feet had got him used to it slightly, allowing him to continue without shrivelling up and crying due to the harsh, putrid flavours entering his body. The trio of ogresses laughed when they saw the halfling's face twist with near painful distaste yet keep licking anyway, all of them thinking about how well trained he was. Yazgash kept her foot extended, rotating it so that Tevid could reach every inch of the cheesy, slimy foot flesh with his tiny tongue. It took a while but Shazgob and Glasha were watching with glee. Yazgash may possess the stinkiest feet of the three of them, but the other two weren't far behind, and one thing on their mind whilst they watched the entertaining display was how smelly they could make their feet in the future in order to make their slave suffer even more.

The heel, the wrinkled arch, the meaty ball, and all around the huge toes. Tevid licked it all, consuming mouthful after mouthful of foot sweat and foot funk that clung in the deepest pits of reeking flesh. Once he was done, he almost collapsed, dreading the idea of repeating the exercise for a second foot. But he was taken by surprise. Whilst he had been busy, the ogresses had discretely decided that they intended to begin marching for the garden of growth this very evening.

An object caught Tevid from behind, lifting him up slightly and smashing him into the doughy, moist sole of the unlicked foot. His head was pushed into the space between Yazgash's toe heads and the ball of her foot and remained there, the object originally used to cause the contact was being wrapped around him and the ogress' foot, entombing him in one of the foulest places in the realm. Yazgash was re-wrapping her foot with Tevid still pressed tightly against her incredibly unpleasant sole. He tried begging but Yazgash simply scrunched her toes, burying his opening maw into the rancid bank of flesh slightly below his chin. This caused only muffled screaming and the consumption of more of the sour filth that coated her skin.

With her foot fully wrapped with Tevid imprisoned under the heavily overused strip of rotten leather, Yazgash put her boot back on, launching him into a realm of heat, sweat and stink. Immediately he felt the difference between this badlands boot and the leather boots owned by the other two ogresses. These boots made in a distance land that Tevid never wished to visit had an amazing ability to withhold and produce heat thanks to layers upon layers of heat insulation granted by materials harvested by animals. These materials could not be from the badlands, as the beasts that roamed those lands did not acquire such warm hides in their evolution. It was likely that the materials for these boots had been shipped in from a colder climate specifically for the purpose of giving the stinkiest ogress in the badlands a pair of boots that matched her naturally pungent odour. And it was a glowing success. Tevid could feel the environment separated from him by the footwrap, some of the foulness seeped through the gaps, and he knew that the inside of the boot was like a searing swamp.

Yazgash finished putting the footwrap and boot back onto her second, mildly cleaner foot and hopped to her feet, ready to go. The three ogresses collected their supplies and set off for where the halfling had told Shazgob that the garden of growth was located.

The journey and subsequent arrival of the ogresses at the garden of growth was mostly uneventful. They had to crawl through the tunnels that went under the enormous mountains surrounding the valley where the magical potatoes of growing were. It was as if whatever magic created the potatoes also caused the mountains to swell too, ensuring that the valley was protected by hulking walls of rock.

Wildlife was plentiful here, larger than usual too. Deer ran around three times the size as what they were in the outside world. Needless to say, the animals fled as soon as they saw the brutish ogre girls exploring the valley, though it was entirely possible that they smelt the ogresses first and were ready to run. The garden itself where the potatoes grew was easy enough to find at the centre of the valley. A group of smaller deer (yet still huge compared to deer in the outside world) were sharing a single potato between the four of them, nibbling at it carefully. Glasha smiled at the sight, but not a sweet smile like any normal being might see when witnessing deer feeding. She stomped her foot several times, drawing the attention of the deer and scaring them off.

“Hahahaha!” Glasha laughed, pointing at the fleeing animals. “Did you see how fast they booked it when they saw me? Classic!”

“Maybe if it were me they'd have come over. After all, I am significantly less hideous.” Shazgob said.

“Yeah, it was definitely your face Glasha.” Yazgash agreed, smirking.

“You guys are mean!” Glasha said, however she wasn't offended in the least. In fact she enjoyed the banter with her best friends, other ogresses she hung out with just didn't seem to understand.

“It is nice, all of us being back together again, isn't it? The three of us, our stinky feet and a broken foot toy to play with. Heaven.” Yazgash had a rare moment of vulnerability, adopting a happy tone which sounded strange on her usually harsh tongue. This dragged the other two into her mindset and they found themselves nodding slowly.

“Right!” Shazgob piped up, stepping forward “Let's see how these potatoes work!”

“How are we going to do it, to measure how big we grow?” Yazgash asked.

“Shazgob and I had an idea involving you, since you have the foot slave currently stewing under your foot.” Glasha said.

“Indeed. The best person to witness this growth would be the halfling pressed up tightly against your foot. If that big foot of yours starts getting even bigger, he'll be the first to know about it!” Shazgob elaborated on her plan and Yazgash loved the idea.

Without further ado, Yazgash began tearing handfuls of potatoes out of the ground, shovelling them into her large mouth.

“Ummm, Yazgash?” Glasha said “You know that you're supposed to cook those first, right?”

“Just leave her too it. She's enjoying herself. Aren't you eager to see the results too?” Shazgob replied, making Glasha realise how much she wanted this to work, imagining how powerful she'd be if she were even larger.

The two ogresses watched with interest as their friend swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the magic growing potatoes. There were countless potatoes growing, so overconsumption wasn't an issue, after all the wildlife living in the valley had been there for a long time. Once she had eaten over a dozen handfuls of the potatoes, Yazgash came to a stop, starting to feel quite full.

“Do you feel any different? Any bigger?” The purple ogress asked her green friend.

“She doesn't look any bigger.” Glasha had to have her input of course.

Raising her hands and staring at them, Yazgash blinked. She did feel bigger. Ever so slightly. And she also felt that she was still growing at a near unnoticeable rate. “I am growing. It's not much all at once, but I'm growing.”

Shazgob and Glasha started jumping and down with excitement, clapping their big hands and sending what was literally a thunderous applause throughout the valley. They had been hoping for a quick solution to increasing their dominating abilities, but this was good enough. “How about we wait until you think you've stopped then rip that stinky boot off to ask our slave?” Shazgob suggested.

Yazgash had a couple of false alarms, telling the others that she had stopped growing before realising it was still going, but finally the badlands ogress knew for certain. Pulling at the boot, she found it impossible to remove by herself. The boot had not gotten larger alongside her, tightening around the olive green skin of her calf and foot. She stood it, causing Shazgob and Glasha to back away in surprise. Yazgash had always been a little taller than them, but they could see that she was even taller. It wasn't a huge difference, but they still noticed it. Perhaps it would take years of constantly eating those magic potatoes to reach the size they desired, but the results were within the realm of possibility.

Lifting a hefty leg up, Yazgash put an arm around Shazgob's shoulders to prop herself up and nodded at her foot. “Lend a hand Glasha. My boot is stuck.”

The orange skinned ogress rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you should have thought about that earlier, you big green dolt.” Regardless, she lent her help and firmly grabbed the boot with both hands, those powerful ogre arms pulling with full strength. She was surprised by how much force she had to exert but soon enough the boot was off, the disgusting scent trapped within spilling out in a foul flood. They repeated this with the second booted foot, the one that Tevid had been kept prisoner with no sense of anything but Yazgash's sweaty sole and thick, cheesy toes.

Facing her wrapped sole to the sky, Yazgash presented the halfling to the others. Immediately all three of them began to laugh. The well worn leather had constricted around the meaty ogress sole, squeezing the hot, smelly flesh to its limit as well as the naked Tevid who was tied to it. The bulging flesh had caused him to be passively smothered by Yazgash's foot even more than before.

As soon as he felt anything but the warm, humid air that lurked within the boot caressing his back Tevid started struggling and screaming, which amounted to little more than twitching and muffled noises thanks to the amount of pressure forcing his body into Yazgash's slightly larger foot.

“Looks cosy.” Glasha sneered, letting out an ugly laugh.

“I think we should go grab a bite to eat Glasha, whilst Yazgash unwraps our present.” Shazgob nudged her fellow ogress.

“Now that... that sounds like the best thing you've said in years!” Glasha was eager to become bigger, bigger than even Yazgash had become. She couldn't wait for the day when human cities would evacuate on her approach, fleeing in terror as she assembled her army of slaves that would learn to worship her or face a life of stinky suffering. She and Shazgob went over and started gobbling raw potatoes, ripping them out of the ground with muscled ogre hands of purple and orange.

Slamming to the ground onto her toned buttocks, Yazgash set to work removing both footwraps, first unwrapping her unoccupied foot and dropping the long strip of leather into a vacant boot before working to free Tevid, as good as he might feel being constantly dominated by the stench of her foot and weight of her body, she had to share the halfling with her friend.

“There there,” She cooed, teasing as Shazgob would have. Yazgash had always envied her friend's ability to verbally torment others, the badlands ogress tended to rely on power and odour alone. “I'll free you from my big, mean, stinky foot little halfling. I hope you and your tongue are ready. We've been walking for days as I'm sure you know, you probably felt every step.”

It was true. Tevid had felt Yazgash stomp him so many times that he had lost count. With no way of telling time inside the putrid prison, he had thought it had been much longer he spent in there. Upon hearing that it had only been days, his eyes widened in surprise. He was utterly exhausted, not just from the past few days in Yazgash's rank boot under a ceiling of sweaty, wrinkled skin but from his new life in general. Tevid yearned for the days when it was only his sister making him miserable. Now he had three monsters making him far more miserable than his bully of a sibling could ever dream of doing.

Yazgash took her time, slowly peeling off the second footwrap, each layer removed gave Tevid some much needed freedom. In the meantime Shazgob and Glasha had eaten just about as much as Yazgash had, encouraged to eat quickly after seeing the effect that the earth-born vegetables had on their friend. Having eating their fill, they slowly made their way back over to Yazgash's slow unwrapping of Tevid, casting their large shadows over the two, spectating as they steadily grew in size.

By the time Tevid was free from the footwrap but still stuck to the hulking foot of one of his ogress captors because of a combination of sweat and pressure, Shazgob and Glasha had finished growing. Now they were just as tall as Yazgash had become.

Olive green fingers found Tevid's foot and peeled him from the filthy sole that he was glued to, dropping him to the ground. In this moment, had he the option to do so, he would have ran. Fled from these vile ogresses that were happy to use him as a foot slave and more, violate his senses with casual behaviour, utterly breaking his senses when they actually tried. But he was broken and tired, unable to resist. He simply sat in horror as the now larger trio got in position around him, sitting down as Yazgash already had done.

Three pairs of massive, reeking, ogress feet sealed Tevid between them, creating walls of stinky, wrinkly foot flesh on each side. They put both feet together, side by side, then the three pairs together, edge to edge. Tevid was assaulted by the cocktail of pungent funky odours that raped his nostrils, overwhelming his brain and re-educating him on what kinds of stink were possible from feet. Though he had nearly been the same size as an ogress foot before, after his slavers had eaten the food from the garden of growth they outsized him further. They didn't quite reach double the size of the halfling's body, but they were close. He struggled with every breath; the so called air was packed full of acrid moisture and felt heavy as he breathed it into his lungs.

“Lick, slave. Lick our soles like your life depends on it.” Shazgob ordered. It didn't, these ogresses loved having a tiny slave to serve at their smelly, dirty feet but Shazgob enjoyed making the threat. Tevid came close to calling her bluff, but his willpower gave into the obedience that had been drummed into him by his purple master.

He licked and he licked and he licked some more, consuming the thick, slimy sweat lingering on their warm skin starting at the heels and working his way up. As he was surrounded by ogress feet, his little pocket in the middle was heating up, their natural body temperature combining and causing their feet to sweat further. Tevid eventually cleared the uncreased, rough skin of all six heels and began lapping at the lowest point of the six arches. He found that another effect of the size increase was deep wrinkles hiding even nastier flavours inside. Had he not been worshipping feet with everything he had, Tevid would have felt dread thinking about how giant and terrible these colourful feet would become in the future.

Working up the arches, ensuring to give each ogress equal attention, Tevid came to a point where he could only just reach the doughy balls if he stood on his tiptoes but he doubted that the ogresses would care about his excuses so he continued trying without success.

Shazgob, Glasha and Yazgash enjoyed watching their slave try his best to please them but fail anyway. But there came a point when they just wanted him to keep on cleaning their disgusting feet so decided to intervene. “Don't worry, slave. We'll help you out.” Shazgob told him with an evil smile. At once, all three of them pushed their feet even closer, sealing off the bottom of the halfling's smelly pocket of space by touching their heels together. Tevid slid upwards thanks to the coaxing of wet skin, some of the moisture was his saliva but a good percentage was fresh ogress sweat. He felt the hot skin embrace his lower body, trapping his arms by his side and leaving him stuck at the level of the balls of the ogresses, only able to move his shoulders and head. With nothing to do but obey, Tevid licked the filthy banks of flesh all around him, the ogresses using their feet to rotate him around. They further manipulated his little body with their feet when he had finished licking the balls of their feet and shimmied him up just a touch more so he could stick his head between their toes, each stinky gap a contender for hell on earth. Between those toes a sizeable helping of toejam had collected and Tevid managed to choke it somehow without puking it back up.

It came to a point where the ogresses were somewhat satisfied with the triple foot worship from their slave, after he had practically used his tongue on every inch of smelly foot flesh. They released him from the foot press and he fell back down to the bases of the three differently coloured, huge feet, awaiting instruction in his cave of foot odour.

“You've done well.” Shazgob said, leaning forward and letting Tevid she her smiling face up past her toes above him. The other two copied her actions, giving the halfling a horrifying image of his masters' faces atop the walls of feet trapping him. “Since you've finished, we've decided to have some more fun with you.”

The three monsters started laughing and had to wait a couple minutes before they could continue. Clearly they had something devious planned. After the laughter had passed, all of them started drooling, allowing their rank saliva to drop into the space between their feet where Tevid dwelt. At first, he avoided the drops of thick spit that rained down on him, but it rapidly collected on the ground and soon enough his odorous cave became a well to ogress saliva.

“I'd get drinking if I were you!” Glasha said, putting her barrage of spit to a stop for a moment. “Or else you'll soon be swimming in our spit and you ain't getting out until it is all gone.” Tevid tried a mouthful, and though it was foul, it wasn't quite as awful as all the foot sweat and grime he'd recently eaten. As he literally gulped down the liquid from the mouths of his tormentors, Tevid thought about his situation, how dire it had become. He didn't even speak any more, he had no reason to. Oddly enough, Castella came to mind. He wondered if she ever thought about him and the sacrifice that he made. But thinking about the happiness he felt around Castella just made Tevid sad. So he pushed such thoughts out of his mind and went back to the monotonous task of drinking ogress spit that was slowing being roasted by three reeking soles, adding to the already putrid flavour.

Twenty years later.

“Another!” Castella yelled, keeping her expression hard like it always was. Sure, she could be happy from time to time. But this was not one of those times. For the previous week and the upcoming two, she travelled the one trading route that she hated. This was the route where she committed what she considered to be her greatest failing in life.

She had avoided that halfling village ever since. There was no way that she could return there, knowing what had happened to Tevid. Poor, sweet Tevid. The halfling who worked so hard to improve his life, only to be robbed of everything by a cruel ogress. Perhaps he was dead. Castella hoped he was dead. The alternative was so much worse.

Finally, the barkeep handed over a mug of ale that the merchant immediately paid for, taking a grateful gulp. A lute player had just finished his song over in the back corner of the bar, quickly replaced by a female. She introduced herself as a storyteller and Castella's iron face almost cracked into a smile. She loved just closing her eyes and listening to a good tale, imagining every step of the journey.

But this story was not a pleasant one. The storyteller proved herself to be a bit of a doom-sayer, starting the story off with a warning about it being a story of an impending disaster, one that might be only decades away. She spoke of three ogresses who had moved into a valley not so far away long ago, a valley where the 'garden of growth' was located. These ogresses, one purple, one orange, one green, went there in search of a way to make themselves larger. And they succeeded. Apparently they had eaten the potatoes that grew there and grown far larger than they were supposed to. But that left them with a problem. The underground tunnels that they had crawled through in order to enter the valley had become too small for them to leave through, trapping them within the valley.

“And to this very day, the three ogresses live in the valley, feasting on magical growth potatoes. However, one day they will reach their goal; becoming large enough to climb over the mountainous walls themselves. What they will do when they escape is anyone's guess, although I promise you that it will not be good.” The storyteller concluded, having accomplished bringing everyone's mood down with her tale.

The storyteller came over to the bar after she was done, standing next to Castella. The merchant was overwhelmed by the story, wondering if maybe it was about the ogress that had taken Tevid away from her. She had been purple after all, and the garden of growth was Tevid's end goal. Curiousity got the better of the merchant.

“Excuse me?” Castella said to the woman stood next to her, who turned with a warm smile.

“How can I help you? Do you have any questions about my story?”

“Just one.” Castella took a deep breath. “How true is it?”

The storyteller's expression darkened. Not with rage, but fear. “Extremely so. I was hiking years back with some bards because they wanted to explore the mountains in search of inspiration when we smelt something... awful. Following our noses, we were led to a valley and at the bottom, miles below where we stood, were a trio of colourful ogresses far larger than any ogres had a right to be. Their harsh voices echoed up to us. They weren't talking to each other though. It looked like they had some poor creature at their feet, which is what we could smell. I can't even imagine being directly beside those things. Anyway, it seemed like they were verbally teasing this captured creature. Likely they were entertaining themselves, it probably gets boring being trapped in a valley.”

“After doing some research when we returned, I put together the other details that made up the story. Knowing that one day those monsters are going to escape at even greater size is something I've had nightmares about ever since. The foot odour was horrendous enough, when they become gigantic it will likely reach unfathomable levels.” The storyteller went into a haunted silence, shaking her head.

When the woman didn't continue talking, Castella took that as the end to the flow of information. She finished her drink and left as fast as possible, wanting to be alone with the emotions welling up inside her. But she couldn't shake the thought of Tevid still being alive at the mercy of not one, but three ogresses and their immensely stinky feet.