“And don’t forget to stop by Mr Themsen and thank them for the oranges! Perhaps his son will notice you on the visit.”

Summoning as neutral of a voice as possible, free from the annoyed, petulant sting coloring her mood, Clara called back, “Yes, Mother, I know.” Clara stepped down from their cottage with the wicker basket in hand, opened the fence and closed it after her. Correcting her mother on how Clara had already thanked Mr Themsen numerous times, how his son’s interest was a long-lost option as he’d showed interest in another girl, it didn’t matter. At eighty-eight with her feeble mind, it was a wonder Clara’s mother even remembered her daughter’s name.

Their cottage was at the corner of the village of Resten, leaving Clara with a short walk until she neared the trees of the woods. The sun was heading for the horizon now in late afternoon, the summer comfortable and making the simple yellow day gown and slippers more than enough.

Past the corner of the last house, two of Resten’s infamous troublemakers loitered, and Clara sighed. They saw her, energizing their listless mood as they dashed out of the corner.

“Yo, Clara, where you headed?” Ben, the shorter of the two, said.

“Off with the other cows to graze?” Troy mooed like a cow, bouncing his cheeks about in an animated imitation of cattle stuffing its mouth with grass.

“And have those big tits milked?” Ben stooped forward and Troy half-squatted beside him, putting his hands under his abdomen and alternating between them with a squeeze down, as if milking a cow. Ben, the pretend cow in this mockery, mooed in satisfaction, and they did all this while stumbling after Clara to keep her pace.

Clara forced out a chuckle. “I don’t think I was ever this annoying when I was sixteen.”

“And I won’t be that ugly when I’m twenty,” was Ben’s retort, to which Troy laughed. “And I’ll be married too. Who turned you down today?”

“No one.” Clara didn’t even know why she bothered answering, she’d done well enough continuing down the path without turning her head back on them once.

“No one left,” Ben said, him and Troy exchanging snickers with every line. “I don’t think anyone wants a big cow for a wife. Maybe try the hermits over in the Valleys.”

Clara stopped and turned. “Listen, you two devils, I’m not in the mood to chase you down or hear another word out of your mouths. Get back home or I’ll tell your mothers.”

That put a visible blow to their insistent sprightliness. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

Clara shooed them away with a hand. “Back home.” She turned and went on. Fortunately, so did they.

Even if their insults were dished out generously and meant the least, they were somewhat rooted in reality. Clara couldn’t pretend she didn’t care. She had a large stature, with an enormous bosom, supplying them with the comparisons to a cow. Her blond hair reached the lower back, and not only was she tall and large, her face was rather homely, leaving the local men wondering why they would ever marry her. ‘At least she’s kind and helpful’ or any other variation parents would give their sons was further insult. Any good quality of Clara was always presented with an ‘at least’.

The ridgelines grew ahead of her. Beyond them one would find the Valleys, together with Resten making a remote corner of the country. A stream tumbled down the small mountain and pooled at the base of the foothill at a pond, and at the waterfront Clara set down her wicker basket. She broke the cattails and flung them into the basket, a few ducks near the edge startled and swimming into the pond.

When it was filled up, Clara took it with her upstream, the large elms providing an ample canopy. Further up, around a plateau amidst the foothills, was another little pond where the water pooled. The mountain spat out the stream in the form of a medium-sized waterfall. There Clara picked out a satchel with a thread around it, wearing it over her neck and filling it with the cranberries growing there. There was an entrance into the massive hills and mountains under the waterfall, leading into an expansive network of tunnels made forbidden for entry by Resten’s elder. Those tunnels had seen many twisted ankles and broken forearms, its playland-like network along the damp, slippery stones inviting children to come in, play, and stumble.

There was no shortage of wildlife, and at first Clara believed the figure flitting across the pond was a dragonfly or the like. Though its course was unmistakably towards Clara, closer and closer, and as Clara put her full attention to it, she rubbed her eyes to double-check. It came closer, removing all doubts.

It was a tiny lady the length of Clara’s palm, from wrist to fingertip. Overwhelmed, Clara stared at the figure hovering before her. She wore nothing, but naked didn’t feel like the fitting word either, for there were little details to bare. There was no womanhood, no nipples, her pale skin resembling the unembellished surface of a mannequin.

“Hey there,” Clara said, the way one speaks to a child, despite the face of the creature resembling a young lady, her hair and eyes the color of snow. “Are you a fairy?”

She didn’t say anything, hands clasped behind her back timidly.

“Can you speak?”

Nothing. But one could not say she was inactive or clueless, for the fairy-like creature floated forward and grabbed Clara’s right breast. She had to stretch her arms out to encompass its whole enormity, essentially hugging it. The fairy not only cuddled against Clara’s breast, she started kissing it, accurately locating the nipple through the gown.

“Wh— What are you doing?” Clara’s hand instinctively snapped up, about to snatch the fairy with her fingers and pull her away. But there was a moment’s hesitation, and the fairy stared up at her with a clueless look, before planting more kisses.

Clara blushed. “Geez.” There was no danger in sight. The fairy was utterly harmless, no larger than Clara’s hand, and the instinct Clara had to inform her of this indecency, of how this wasn’t the way to greet strangers, it didn’t manifest into an action. The fairy seemed incapable of speech, Clara never having heard of it, a thing born out of nowhere.

Nothing happened when she didn’t scold or correct this fairy. Nothing. In fact, Clara saw what was better than nothing, the pleasant, titillating sparks spreading within her, starting from her chest.

Clara watched the path from whence she’d come. There was no one around, not even further down towards the lower pond. And just as there had been better than nothing, Clara saw what might be better than this. She traced her index finger over the fairy’s back soothingly, accustoming her to the touch, then closed her fingers around her torso. As Clara pulled her away, the fairy’s arms stretched after the teat longingly. Clara pointed her down towards her neckline and tugged at the collar of her gown, revealing her naked breast. The fairy’s eyes were fixed to them.

“I— I’m not forcing you or anything,” Clara said, stammering. “Do you want it?”

Not merely without words, the fairy didn’t even acknowledge Clara’s words, not turning to her when spoken. All she did was stretch her arms forward, reaching for Clara’s breast.

Clara released her. The fairy didn’t fall, a reminder she could fly. But she did nothing gravity otherwise wouldn’t have, using her freedom to dive under Clara’s gown and continue where she’d left, this time with no cloth between them. The kisses she planted on Clara’s nipple were little picks of love, the stroke of her tongue now added.

“Ah.” The moan pressed out of Clara, beyond her control, the titillations sharper this time. The potential for these feelings had always been there, but in her ugly life, there’d been no one to explore it with, and this fairy was waking something in her, touching her with love she had plenty of room to receive. “God. You just happened to be floating around here, huh?” Clara stroked her again, through the fabric, petting her. “You don’t have anything to say or think?”

No response, nothing but continual worship. Clara shifted her over to the other breast, and the transition was seamless as the fairy simply kept going there.

Clara saw the little entrance under the waterfall, making her way there. There were lewd ideas in her mind, guilt and shame following the mere thought of them. But under the guise of reliable privacy, they could surface.

What Clara imagined in the lewdest, most embarrassing corner of her mind, the fairy shamelessly went there. She abandoned Clara’s nipples, scurried down her abdomen, and slipped in under her panties. She squirmed against her womanhood, kissing.

Clara shrieked aloud, immediately putting her hand over her mouth. “What a, naughty, naughty little thing.” Clara giggled, hurrying towards the tunnel, knees buckling, doubling over, supporting herself against a tree or boulder. It looked as if she were sick, ailing, rushing for the doctor, her body zapped with pleasure as the fairy was relentless on her pussy.

A short walkway over the pond threaded in under the waterfall and to the open doorway. Clara entered, and there one could hear the rush of water bouncing off the stony bowels of the mountain. It proceeded down in a network of tunnels as if made by giant rabbits capable of digging through stone. The water split through many avenues.

Clara didn’t complicate it. She kicked off her slippers and lay down on a mattress of moss and the tiny growth it supported. The heat in her lower abdomen was feverish, the sensations arising from her pussy making her twitch and jolt about. Controlling that, she raised her ass to pull the gown up over her, then lowered her panties, seeing the fairy in action. She’d inserted her lower body and was furiously making out with Clara’s clit. Rushing to tend to her breast, to her pussy, the fairy was a machine, like the waterwheel with its rotations over the river, she had no function but to worship.

Clara held onto a rock to her side, fingers clawing over its rounded top, her squeals echoing hollowly down the tunnels. Clara realized there wasn’t much she could do to cross the line; the fairy had broken any barrier of shame. “It’s my goddamn turn!” Clara grabbed the fairy, holding her lower body, and plunged her inside. Index and thumb locked around the ankles, Clara pumped the thing in and out of her pussy rapidly, creating a fast, slimy rhythm that would make a listener think one was sliding their fingers over the slick body of a fish. With her other hand, she rubbed her clit, and everything in the world was gone. To be quiet for the fear of no one hearing, the fear of not having explored the origins of this fairy to be assured this affair wouldn’t lead to any consequences, nothing mattered but the amassing thrill, the blossoming heat and paralyzing pleasure. Clara screamed out loud, easily outcompeting the flush of the continuous rivulets coursing through the tunnels. Her liquids blasted out, an untapped source which her accursed homeliness had not appealed any boy to come and explore. Legs spread wide and up in the air, the climax of Clara’s screams plateaued to a steady howl. Despite how well the flora of the cave would fare without it, now they received an additional source of liquid, as Clara slammed the fairy through her pussy and squirted one stream after the other, drizzling on the leaves of a fern.

It was ecstasy, it was everything right in the world. It was, without a doubt, the best time of Clara’s life.

She didn’t know how long she’d been out after waking up, her body comatose. The first thing which arrived to her was the rock she’d had her hand on. Except now, her arm wasn’t bent by the elbow like before, it was decently outstretched to reach it. Nor were her fingers clawing over its rounded top, previously able to feel its roundness like a ball. Instead, her fingers were extended, yet she didn’t feel any curves. Had the rock gotten larger?

Clara basked in the afterglow of her orgasm. As if having been blind all her life and now finally able to see, she relished every detail of the experience. The fairy had slurped up all her liquids from the greenery it sprinkled upon.

Her tongue returned to Clara’s beaten pussy, returning the now-familiar twitches of pleasure across the body, the twitches Clara would never reject. A drunken giggle slipped out of her, clamping her legs around the fairy’s head.

Fairy’s head?

A sharp jab of alertness brought her out of it, noticing the increasing size of the rock beside her, or how her own gown lay over her body like a large blanket, or how the laps on her pussy was from a tongue, large enough to cover it. Peering forward, she saw the fairy’s back, hunched forward on all four, eating away.

With a precise flurry of strokes and sucks on Clara’s clit, the stimulation returned like an avalanche, wringing a sharp gasp out of her. The languor took over, warding away the alertness. Clara was at the mercy of her lust, and she found it wasn’t a surrender which came after a fight. For once in her life, she was being pampered, the needs abandoned by so many finally tended to. For once, it wasn’t her job to help someone. She could just lie back.

Stupefied by the earth-shattering sensations, all concerns became secondary, or granted an understandable context. Clara wondered if she’d eaten anything outlandish she’d forgotten or if there were fumes from some plant to inhale in these prohibited caves that sent her on this trip, to create this perception of herself being shrunk and this fairy enlarged. Or perhaps this was a fairy of delight, bringing illusions to enhance the experience. Whatever it was, Clara let it take over.

The next orgasm arrived, and the fairy didn’t relent throughout it. Clara didn’t feel as if she were moving her body, her legs and stomach, they spasmed as if electrocuted. The fairy vacuumed Clara’s pussy, slurping away at any moisture which amassed.

The hem of the gown slid over her, like a blanket drawn up. Clara didn’t pay much attention to it, attributing it to the movement they made pushing the gown. But the lips kissing her bottom now covered Clara from knee to knee when her legs were stretched to the sides. The fairy’s face, the little thing Clara had to focus to make out the details of before, lay in the gown with her, and she was what held the gown up. Those snowy eyes and hair, pale skin, firm jawline and sharp cheekbones, they were before her like some massive statue.

Lips over Clara’s pussy and thighs, the fairy dragged her out like a cat with its toy. Once the gown Clara herself wore, the yellow canvas scrolled past her above. Large hands slipped underneath Clara, propping up her back. Together with the mouth latched onto her bottom, the fairy brought Clara out of the gown. The large hands behind her pushed Clara, having her sprawled over the fairy’s head, her chest straddling the nose, her knees ending at the tips of the mouth, her hands almost reaching the earlobes. With her limbs outstretched, she was like a human cobweb cast upon the fairy’s face.

There was no pause. The tip of the tongue prodded at Clara’s pussy, a jolt cutting through her body. The entire ordeal hung over Clara like onerous blankets. “Oh, God. It’s so sensitive now. It’s too sensitive. I… Ah…” She fell over the fairy’s face with a defeated moan, not much left in her but the occasional exclamation when the giant tongue poked at the right place.

Somehow, the fairy seemed to know when to end, and that this was still not it. Her persistence successfully brought Clara to yet another orgasm. With Clara’s mounting wails, large fingers wrapped around her chest and lifted her away from the mouth. Dexterously, with the fingers of the same hand, she raised Clara’s two legs, freeing the target. The pinky finger of her other hand played with her pussy, parting the loose, bloated lips.

Like a hunter having spent their time preparing and taking aim, the finger speared inside. Clara screamed, degenerating into a delirious cackle as the pinky finger pushed in and out, in and out, somehow managing to exceed previous pleasures and stimulate her still. Alongside the penetration, the fairy took both of Clara’s tits in her mouth and nibbled on them.

“Oh. My. GOD!” Once having been small enough that her wide-spread arms narrowly girdled one of Clara’s breasts, now Clara was no more than a doll she was violating. All those facts were lost on her, the throughline of pleasure blanketing the entire ordeal as one comprehensive experience, one she still believed she would eventually snap out of.

On the next orgasm, the fairy opened her mouth wide, ready to receive a treat. Clara’s squirt shot right into the giant mouth, the pinky finger pumping fast to squeeze out every last drop there was left.

The pinky finger couldn’t enter anymore. The meaty pillar Clara sat on was comparable to one of her own legs. And then, the fairy took Clara’s ankle with her thumb and index, her mouth still open, dangling Clara over it.

“What… What’s going on?” Clara muttered, half-open eyes staring down at the gaping maw beneath her. For one brief moment, Clara entertained the idea that this was something dangerous, of the wide world beyond Resten, of magic and its vagaries, of all the risks and uncertainties of life. That brief moment bloomed into reality.

She was dropped down, sliding down the tongue and sealed in the dark depths as the lips shut together.

“Wait! No!” Clara flailed about, trying to gain grip and clamber up. “Hold on!” In that moment, it didn’t matter that she’d been blissfully unaware all this time, drifting through clouds of joy. For now, she recognized what might be happening, the fear and terror striking her like a cold slash across the body.

The fairy swallowed, reducing Clara to nothing more than a lump traveling down her throat.

Resten was uneasy. The rustic, remote village existed on the outskirts of the country. They were resilient workers, providing for themselves and not unfamiliar with the hardships of life. But of life’s evils they were unexperienced, hearing of war and other atrocities through word and song alone.

So no one took it to heart when Clara’s mother, like the rooster of the morning, hollered and woke everyone in Resten concerning her daughter’s absence. Her senile years left everyone understandably skeptic at first. They searched her home and called for Clara themselves, and indeed, no one could find her. Clara’s mother couldn’t remember where she had gone. As rumor spread across the village and the crowd grew, the boys Ben and Troy, who’d irritated her on the way out, confirmed she had headed to the familiar pond with a wicker basket.

A search party was sent out, Ben and Troy with them. They headed out the path, a wary eye scanning the roadside and the nearest underbrush. Nothing seemed out of place. Arriving at the first pond, they scoured the banks, calling her name multiple times, to no avail. Some of the cattails were broken, having been harvested.

Ben hollered from higher up the path, calling everyone upstream. There he pointed them to the abandoned wicker basket, full of cattails that had faintly withered, recently picked.

“What in all the gods…”

“Maybe she drowned herself,” one of them said, peering into the depths of the water. “Miserable life she lived, might as well end it.”

“Hey! She was one of the kindest souls of our village. You should be ashamed of yourself.” The castigation came from Ronny, the oldest of the group. He had them commence the search around the upper pond. Some wandered off to search towards the trees and woods, others further upstream and up the mountain. Ben and Troy peered into the tunnel underneath the waterfall, swiftly berated by Ronny.

“But what if she went here?” Troy asked.

Ronny almost argued with them, but stopped himself. He joined their side and led the first steps in. Sunlight dripped in through various holes, the echo of surging water ever present.

“Clara? Girl, are you here?” he called, competing with the swish of water. Ben and Troy mimicked his calls, leaning over the steepest fall and shouting down, hearing only their own receding voices.

Ronny clinched their shoulders and drew them back. “Fools!”

“But what if she fell down?”

“And you would join her? There’s a safer path down, over there.” This ‘safer’ path was a narrow ledge hugging the wall, with bare threads of water pouring down it, making the stone slippery. “In fact, forget that. We can’t do this now.” Ronny cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed out loud. Nothing was returned. “She would call back if she were here. Clearly, she isn’t. Come.” He forced them out, but the boys’ stares lingered back at the cave.

After some time, they had to conclude the search. They returned to Resten and summoned everyone by the village square, telling the villagers of her missing status and the abandoned wicker basket. The news brought plenty of worried looks. The ominous air was thick, almost a tension palpable in the air. The suggestion of her drowning herself was given again, though Clara’s mother objected fervently. If she indeed had, her corpse would float and wash ashore eventually. Someone also suggested if she hadn’t visited her cousins in the Valleys over the mountains, though the unannounced timing of it paired with the abandoning of the wicker basket didn’t add up. Ronny and the elder told everyone to be wary and not travel alone. With that, the crowd dispersed, the topic no doubt to be discussed for a long time.

The next day at noon, Ben leaped over Troy’s fence and leaned over his window, asking if he would come out. Troy’s mother was adamant he be back and ready by afternoon, both to help Clara’s mother with her chores, and with a note of caution over the disappearance.

They hung out by the edge of Resten near Clara’s home, by the path she was last seen taking. “Hey, you don’t think we should check the pond again?”

Ben rubbed his hands together, a sign of insecurity despite agreement. “I thought about it too. Old Ronny was pissing his pants, but she’s got to be down there, right? What other explanation is there?”

“Yeah.” They checked the surroundings, then skulked off down the path. Troy was the taller one of the two, with close-cropped dark hair, and Ben shorter with longer hair hanging freely over his neck.

“I can’t believe she just hasn’t returned,” Troy said. “I don’t agree with those saying she drowned herself. No one listens to her mother because she doesn’t make much sense anymore, but she’s right. From her mood, it didn’t feel like Clara was going out to do something like that.”

Ben shook his head, adjusting the hair behind his larger ears. “Don’t believe it either.” They jogged their way forward, the first pond appearing between the elms. Even though the first pond wasn’t where the basket had been left behind, they threw some of their attention around, searching. “Hey, I was thinking.” The two panted lightly from the jog. “What if she comes back like some vengeful spirit?”

Troy grimaced. “What?”

“I’ve heard stories of these ghosts haunting their killers, or if they die with a lot of anger, they come back to plague their tormentors. We… uhm, most people weren’t nice to her.”

“Just shut that nonsense, that happens in places with a lot of mages and magic. There’s none of that over here. Let’s go.” Always with a glance thrown about every other way, on the chance something would show up, they went upstream, up to the other pond. Nothing seemed to have changed. Another puzzling detail was that the pond was deep only in the most narrow middle, at multiple points the bottom was visible.

But their eyes were on the caves. Ben walked first, Troy watching the areas around them.

“Hey, who’s that?” Troy followed Ben’s attention, and emerging from the tunnel entrance was a naked little lady. Lady, for the face had mature contours, pronounced cheekbones and sharp jawline, deep rich eyes, and little, for she was no more than half their height. It was hard to miss her, her pale skin striking against the background, her eyes and hair white like the clouds. She had nothing in the way of breasts but a pink little button-like nipple, and a slit between her legs for a vagina, both of them with an uncanny, embryo-like lack of development.

“Excuse me,” Troy said, carefully approaching, leaning forward. “Who are you?”

Her blank stare shifted between them.

Ben joined his friend’s side, unassuming to not startle her. “A friend of ours went missing here. Have you seen her by any chance?”

Whether or not she understood but chose not to speak, if she were clueless, or was simply incapable of speech, she gave no indications to. All she did was maintain that blank stare, neither frightened nor brave.

“Hellooooooo?” Troy said with a waving head. “Can you talk, or what?”

The short lady turned on her heels and dashed inside the tunnel.

“Wh— Wait up!” Ben turned to his friend. They exchanged a look of confusion, then went after her.

“What if she’s taking us to Clara?” Troy said. Him and Ben made their way past the thick mists sprayed off the waterfall’s crash, beads of water coalescing on their foreheads and eyelashes.

“Maybe. But she’s got to have something to say. Hey, come back!” They entered, seeing her bright, white scalp disappear under the lip of the ledge. They peered down and saw her sidle through a crevice.

“She’s not bloody listening.”

“I really think she’s showing us to Clara,” Ben said. “Ronny was shitting himself just staring down here, but we’ve got to look. Come.” They made their way to the narrow ledge and put their backs straight against the rocky wall, carefully easing their way down the wet, sheening stone. The fall was perilous, though there were plenty of passages spanning the emptiness below, making it likely one would catch themselves on something not amounting to a deadly distance. The waters cascaded down in several smaller rivulets, moss and other growth adding color to the gray stones.

Ben and Troy made it to the shelf of stone, a safer platform to stand on, and sidled through the crevice the short, albino lady had taken. When it opened, they saw her slip through down another passageway at the end.

“That’s not far,” Ben said, taking the lead. “She must have waited for us. I’m sure she’s trying to show us something.”

She was not merely fast, but elusive, always half of her visibly entering the next passage once the boys turned the corner. No matter how long or short the corridor was, she gave a glimpse of herself entering the next path, and it felt like chasing the end of a rainbow. The cave was progressively showing signs of sunrocks, stones which channel sunlight like water through a hose, and they brought the presence of the sun down here the way windows would. If one would close their eyes, the brightening of the eyelids’ darkness would fool one to think they were outside.

“Where the hell are you going!” Troy called. She made to the left after the end of their current corridor, her long, white hair flying behind her. Ben made it there and turned, and with the ongoing chase it was bound to happen, but Troy’s shoe slipped on the slick stone and sent him forward, beyond the ledge. Their hearts froze in shock, but there was a pool below where many rivulets converged. Troy dove into the crystal blue water, rebounding up and surfacing with a gasp.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” The drop was around twenty feet.

Ben’s gaze wandered across the openness. “I can’t see a clear way down.”

“There’s a shore over here.” Troy swam towards it. “I’ll make my way up.”

Ben caught the albino girl down the end of the passage, peering out of an open entry. She was waiting.

“She wants me to come,” Ben said. “I see her. Just follow my voice, alright?”

“Go for it,” his friend called, echoing as he took his own path.

Ben held his hands up to her where she waited. “Would you stop running? Just show us the way, or make some gestures, would you? Give us bloody something.”

She turned to look down the entryway she was leaning out of, then back at him. Although there was no facial expression, no gesture, no word, nothing but her blank stare, it felt like a suggestion as she slipped inside. Growing tired, Ben jogged after her. He turned the corner, a smaller space, where she simply waited at the other end, Ben coming up to meet her.

Stooped forward, Ben slipped with all his momentum, his leg thrown back. He dove forward, arms ready to meet the rock floor, but a rush of adrenaline threw his heart up as he plunged into a hole in the middle of the room, his arms and head continuing through it. His shoulder struck the side painfully, and two stony jabs pinned both sides of his waist.

Ben cried aloud, echoing through the passages. Like some surreal human chandelier, his torso hung upside-down from the roof of another smaller, similar room to the one he’d slipped into. His long hair dangled down like a mophead. Ben flailed his legs about, trying to find purchase, but at the realization he might kick himself into an angle where he’d free his waist and drop headfirst to the floor below, he stopped. The hole holding his waist was a blessing.

Troy called from afar, the words indistinguishable, but no doubt worried over the cry he’d heard. Ben returned a shout.

In the room above, the short lady walked up to the pair of upended, teetering legs and kneeled, grabbing Ben’s pants by the waistline. She pulled them up.

“Don’t bother!” he yelled upwards. “You can’t carry my weight up. You might make it worse, just stop and let Troy get up there.” She was taking his shoes off, and as Ben tried to make sense of why her attempt at pulling him free demanded his shoes be free, she wrestled the trousers around his ankles and threw them too. His lower legs were naked. “What are you doing up there?”

“Say something!” Troy’s voice echoed off the walls, and Ben returned another call for guidance. His friend dashed into the room.

Upon seeing him, Troy burst into laughter. “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”

Ben snorted. “Yeah yeah, get the laughs out. Now find a way up and pull me free.”

“Shouldn’t I pull you down? I’ll catch you.”

“I’ll take the option that doesn’t risk my head. It’s better if—” Ben gasped, a high-pitched shriek unlike himself, as if stolen from someone else’s throat.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The discomfort was clear on his face, besides the fact he’d been suspended for the past minutes. He grimaced, but with them came a few moans. “Oh, gods above.”

“What? What is it?”

Finding the words weren’t easy. How would he begin describing that above them, the short, mute, bashful girl was down on all fours and hungrily sucking away at his dick? She played with the limp thing for no more than seconds until it stood erect, and then she engulfed the whole thing with her mouth.

“She… She’s sucking me off. My cock, it’s in her mouth.”

“Oh, I’m so very jealous,” Troy said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to believe that, you idiot?”

“Troy.” The words were forced out, interrupted by brief moans. “I’m not joking here.” Focusing past the swish of water in the distance, the very faint sound of fleshy smacks and kisses could be heard, Troy narrowly picking it up.

“Aaaah, gods and lords.” Ben’s arms fell straight down, overtaken by a complete relaxation. She not only brought him to orgasm, she gulped every single drop of his seed. The loud slurps hit Troy enough that he considered his friend’s words.

“You—You’re serious?”

Ben didn’t respond, eyes half-closed, mouth open.

“I’ll be damned, wait up! I’ll have to find some way up there.” Troy returned to the doorway, but a faint tick in the middle of the room behind him made him turn. It was the button of Ben’s shirt clicking onto the stone, and Ben’s naked arms disappeared up the hole.

“Ben, are you alright?”

His answer was delayed. “Yeah…” The brief moan showed the afterglow of his orgasm. How the young lady no taller than their waist had managed to drag his friend back up, rationalizing why the shirt had come off, Troy stood puzzled at these questions for a moment. He snapped out of it and commenced his search for a way up to their room. Troy was excited at the prospect of being pampered by the girl, but there was a hint of uncertainty as well.

Troy looked for the passages that angled up, trying to update the imagined map in his head of how far up the hole in that room was. He called for Ben several times, but no response was given. Seeing the sincerity of the dazed moans coming out of Ben, it put a nervous excitement in Troy’s chest, the possibility that the lady was some vixen nymph from stories, granting them unimaginable pleasures. Though the more Troy entertained the other outlandish details, the current lack of a response, that excitement became fleeting, on hold, wanting to know more.

The swirl and surge of water abated, the rivulets further behind. Now more quiet, he barely caught hints of a sound, following it. A fleshy kiss, joined by the sharp, squeaky sucking of one’s lips. It came from the end of the passageway he was in. Troy rushed over there and turned the corner, entering the room.

In some way, it did make sense. When stuck in that hole, Ben told him she’d been slobbering over his manhood. So the fact that the albino lady sat with Ben’s legs over her shoulders, hugging his suspended body into her torso and making out with his dick, it wasn’t a strange continuation of the picture Troy last had. But something didn’t compute in Troy’s mind, something keeping him rooted in place, trying to decipher the puzzle.

And then he noticed. Ben hung upside-down, his head at her abdomen, yet his legs which pointed up over her shoulders barely had the feet reach above her ears. Hugging Ben’s body into her, she was more than half his size. What kind of magic was this?

“Ben?” Troy called out, breaking their privacy. He noticed too, now, how lifelessly Ben dangled in her grasp, arms sprawled out over her thigh, legs swaying about to her movement. He couldn’t break free from her.

“T— Troy…” His voice was a whisper, crackling with weakness. “Get… Get her off me…”

Those words did everything. They revealed the exchange for the one-sided affair it was. They stripped the albino off all her armor of innocence, revealing her for the perpetrator she was.

“Hey, get off him!” Mindful of the hole in the middle, Troy marched towards her.

With a wet smack, she released Troy’s dick and let go of him, letting him lie down between her legs. Troy clenched his fist, coming nearer and nearer. Having focused so much on Ben’s size relative to her, his assumption had been that Ben shrunk. Which, although true, was only half the story.

As she got up, her head met the old familiar height of Troy’s waist when there was plenty of standing left to do. She stood up now, cresting Troy’s height and continuing. Troy paused before her. His eyes met the underside of her beast. Last he’d seen her, the ‘breasts’ had just a been a nipple on a mound of flesh, now more developed, showing a curvature. Her womanhood had developed too from the odd slit into two distinguishable pink lips.

Her tongue poked out and took a lap around her lips, marking the end of a delicious meal, or perhaps the beginning of one. Those familiar white eyes stared blankly at him, as before.

“Hey.” Troy mustered as much courage he could, pointing past her. “Could you change my friend back? We, uhm… We’re leaving, okay?”

She took one step forward.

Troy took one back. “Hey, back off and turn him back!” He pointed at his friend. “Him.” Then he put his palm at knee’s length. “Small?” He raised the palm up to his own face. “Make big. Understand?”

She lunged for him, hands grabbing his waist. Troy punched her cheek, a blow which made her wince, successfully repelling her. He tripped back, hands barely there to catch him as his bottom landed hard on the ground, a round ache crunching his tailbone. Her fingers hooked underneath the lip of his trousers and yanked down. Troy spread his legs wide to prevent them from coming off, pulling his knee back and kicking her on the forehead. That got her hands away, a second Troy used to turn and kick himself off on all four to get up.

“Help!” He screamed. He only heard his echo, and it made him realize just how far down they’d gone, returning to him all the minutes they’d spent descending down these tunnels. Those echoes washed over him with a pang of helplessness, knowing how far away help was.

Hands caught his ankles, preventing him from rising, dragging him back. With a lurch forward, her fingers dug into his knees, wrinkling the fabric with a tight grip and yanking them down.

His dick came free. Like a wolf hearing the cry of a rabbit, a carnal instinct possessed her, snapping forward with a wide-open mouth. The lips fell over his dick, a symphony of sucking and licking starting instantly.

Troy gasped with an electrified squirm, his resistance instantly weakened as his manhood stiffened. The waves of pleasure suppressed his adrenaline, the fight which he’d feel at the threat of a knife or a punch to the head not present.

She pulled his pants further down while her mouth worked him. Troy brought his knee back up, planted his shoe on her shoulder to kick her off, but she elbowed his leg away. The nymph jumped forward and turned, planting her ass on his chest, legs slipping in under his shoulders and locking his arms. She leaned forward and ensued her sucking, the tongue slithering around his shaft. Her feet tucked in under his head, the soles his pillow, and the pink mouth of her pussy hovered over him.

Troy tried to snap out of it, tried to think of the dangers, punching her presented backside. But his arms were restricted from how her larger size straddled him, legs locking his shoulders, and combined with the strange side of him enjoying the ordeal and wanting her to pleasure him, drained him of his fight. His punches were futile.

His orgasm arrived fast, his hips thrusting as he pathetically moaned. As if she hadn’t been animated in her efforts before, now she came alive, the suction of her mouth stronger, maximizing what his virginity had to offer. She guzzled every stream of cum he shot out, slurping them down voraciously, and it was then Troy understood. Hearing her drink him, thinking of how she had Ben’s small body against her and trying to get as much out of him as she could, Troy identified the situation for what it was.

It was the relationship between the predator and the prey.

After his orgasm, extended by her as much as possible, Troy fazed out of consciousness. The next sharply aware moment he had, he noted how his head was under her heels when before he’d been on the soles, how her pussy was further beyond him. And they were even larger. His lower body was naked.

She stood up. Two large hands, their encircling width covering a good portion of his calves, hauled him up. He slipped through his large shirt easily, coming out of it naked, and saw her face upside-down. She held him from his ankles without any perceivable difficulty. Troy might have been a third of her height now.

A virgin, Ben had no prior experiences with orgasming, but he didn’t imagine it to be the explanation for his languor. This couldn’t be normal. The lady, no, not lady, this creature, this devilish nymph, had drained his life force and his size. Now she was doing it to his friend as well. Each of her hands had a vice grip around his knees, holding them apart to free the jewel between his legs. Troy looked like a strung-up rabbit, arms drooping down, barely moving aside from the lifeless swaying set in motion across his body by the contact her mouth made to his dick. And that contact wasn’t faint either, she sucked and dragged the limp thing out, refusing to accept he was finished, relentless in her efforts. The room was filled with the squeaky sucks and fleshy smatters her mouth peppered onto him, her saliva threading down Troy’s chest.

It was a surreal thing to behold, such silky, smooth, and silvery skin, a matching snowy hue to her long hair, the face of a lady, yet the way she sat cross-legged and feasted on Troy erased anything befitting a lad. What he saw was more akin to a chimpanzee feasting on a rabbit’s corpse, a sheer animalistic hunger. The description was made more accurate by how she hadn’t touched herself once, lust never the primary motivator. Hunger and power seemed to be, power for the size she gained, hunger for the fervor with which she devoured their cocks.

But she seemed sufficiently distracted by trying to extract every last drop of semen out of Troy, and with that, Ben crawled towards the hole. He wasn’t sure how he would take the fall, more perilous now with his reduced size, but he couldn’t just lie around. Falling to the room below, hiding, an unfinished idea along those lines played out in his head, where he might find an opening to sneak out of here. When the scenario finished in his mind, a terrible despair befell him, for Ben realized that best case he wished for involved abandoning his friend. It brought with it the implication that he had accepted Troy’s demise, joyous over the opportunity to slip out the tunnel back to the pond, back to the village to tell everyone. He was joyous over a fate where he got out and Troy was devoured by her, a proper description of how dreary things had become.

At the lip of the hole, Ben got on his knees, peering down, seeing the craggy edges which had caught his waist.

The noise her mouth had made all this time stopped. Turning around, Ben saw those blank eyes staring at him, mouth frozen over Troy’s manhood, interrupted during dinner.

She tossed Troy aside like trash and bolted for Ben. Panicked, Ben threw himself over the edge, passing through the hole. A warm, tight hold closed around his calf, seizing all his momentum. He was whipped back and out of the hole, and she did not waste a second, slamming him right back onto her mouth. The time she’d spent away from him gave him time to recharge, and he felt it return, the painful cramps under his testicles.

“No, please,” he groaned, her tongue and mouth revitalized at the prospect of him being ready to ejaculate, slobbering over his entire lower body. “It hurts… S— Stop!” His complaints did nothing, feeling no different than a rabbit which cried in the wolf’s mouth. She held only one of his legs with one hand, the other using its index finger to expertly massage the stretch traveling down the middle of his scrotum. The cramps peaked, Ben trembling in his groans. After being used so many times. Ben’s ejaculation didn’t have much left to offer. Yet she remained efficient, her symphony of massage and suction milking every available drop out of him.

She carried him over to where she had thrown Troy and sat on the moss. Having shrunk again, Ben was half the length of her thigh, and upon her thigh she let him lie, his arms and legs straddling it like a drunken monkey on an enormous branch. And with Ben left there, all the fight drained out of him, she feasted on Troy again, working him up to yet another orgasm, savoring the few drops he had left as well. The nymph put Troy over her other thigh, their heads pointing to her knees, lying on their front. She lifted their bottom and flicked the dick out, towards her, letting them lie on their front again and leave it out. With her two indexes, she planted the fingertip on the shaft of their dick and stroked them.

And in that position they remained. No matter how difficult it would be to score another orgasm, that would prove no barrier to her attempts. Her fingertip was continuous on them, and with time it would come again, and they were helpless to do anything with that time.

In the corner of his vision, Ben spotted a yellow stretch near a bush.

It was Clara’s frock.

Troy almost grumbled a complaint, wanting to ask why, though stopped himself. He knew why. Everyone knew why predators hunted prey. They could only never imagine that the harmless-looking thing peeking out from the entrance under the waterfall, no taller than their waist, was a predator to watch out for. Awaiting their imminent demise as she kept stroking them, the next orgasm inevitable, they could only wallow in their regret. Chasing her down the tunnel, the clumsy slips, a comedy of errors was needed to bring them here, and they had erred accordingly. They had played right into her hand, allowing her this position of complete dominance. Now, she could do whatever she wanted with them. But more than themselves, more than Clara, their thoughts went to everyone else who might fall victim. Troy had been at his normal size and was overpowered by her, and now she’d grown even larger and would continue to. She could pick people off. Their utter incompetence had boosted her out of her most vulnerable state, unleashing a true danger that innocent, decent people would fall victim to, and it would likely start at their village.

Troy squirmed, zapped out of his stupor, results of her constant stroking finally arriving. The moment was inevitable. At his sign of life, the nymph immediately grabbed him and hugged him onto her mouth, the cursed, hungry mouth that did not discriminate back at work.

Troy kissed her nose, cuddling against her. “Please.” Despite how fruitless it was, despite having plenty of evidence, Troy let himself be fooled by her womanly face, the visage of a human he could speak to. Even though the nature of this danger was far more comparable to a frenzied bear than a person committing a crime, he still pleaded, spoke words. He kissed her back and wished they could reach someplace different. He did it because there were no options left.

Troy’s orgasm amounted to one scant drop of cum, the tears out of his eyes far plentier. Her lips were massive now, Troy equaling her middle finger. He was returned to the thigh, Ben taken for his turn. After some time, she obtained one drop out of him as well.

Then, she put both boys into her mouth, Ben against her left cheek and Troy against her right. She stood up and left the room, having a difficult time navigating her way back out with her larger size. Many of the previous, large passages now demanded sidling, ducking, some options too small and not available anymore. But there seemed to be a way still. The boys didn’t know what she had in mind, perhaps allowing hope inside that she kept them alive, wondering if they’d see Clara, a location where her victims were dumped.

Peering her head out gingerly, the nymph arrived outside at the pond. Sunlight blared into the cavern of her mouth as her lips parted. The blue skies gave them hope. Her hand poked in and gathered them together, bringing them out. They were plunged straight into the pond, the hand holding them swiveling about, soaking them.

They surfaced with a sharp gasp, clinging to her fingers. The chill dive did well to wake them. The other hand picked Troy, separating the two. The nymph reared her head up, her jaws parting, tongue extended. Troy was brought over the chasm between her lips. The fingers let him go, sending him onto the slope of her pink tongue. The slide down was slick, and upon hitting the back of her throat, the familiar gulp arrived. Except this time, it wasn’t their seed, but Troy himself creating the little bulge along her throat. They would indeed be sent to Clara’s location.

Ben screamed louder than he ever had in his life. The nymph grew again, a stronger spurt than when consuming their seed. Her breast rounded out further, a mature, voluminous pair which jiggled with movement. It explained why she’d gone outside before eating them, to not be trapped in those tunnels by her size.

Ben was perhaps half her middle finger now, an insignificant creature. Likewise, she brought him over her mouth. The distant stare of her eyes was identical to when she was a short thing reaching his waist. She wasn’t callous or heartless or bloodthirsty; the entire ordeal was impersonal. He was her prey.

Ben was dropped, an easy swallow. Another growth spurt sent her higher still, to a solid twenty feet. Now, there was no more hiding in caves, no more caution and guile and luring required.

Now, it was time to hunt.