In spite of their masculine bluster the disciples of Zyzzrac had surprisingly comfortable rooms to offer their “guests.” Feather beds, running water, spacious baths, and a collection of soaps and oils that rivaled what Tyrael purchased for her own mansion.

The Elven achmage herself had enjoyed a lengthy bath the night before, and the lingering scent of lemongrass clung to her skin as she slowly breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling around the tiny human tucked between her breasts.

Arthur simply enjoyed the warm softness of the twin globes on either side of him, cradling him and molding around him as he listened to her slow and steady heartbeat. He often found himself here when Tyrael meditated, clearing her thoughts and occasionally causing winking balls of fire or lightning to burst in and out of existence, slowly rotating her seated form. The lights themselves were always mesmerizing, and he found himself following them with his eyes.

He started as he felt himself rise out of the elf’s cleavage, lifting into the air as if pulled by an unseen hand. He felt himself float lazily by Tyrael’s pristine face, her eyes closed as if in a deep sleep and a small smile on her face. He rotated around her slowly, uneasily wondering if she even noticed his predicament.

“T-Tyrael?” he questioned meekly.

A pair of blue eyes the size of wagon wheels shot open, glancing down at him in mild surprise. A smile crossed her face, and her hand shot out, gripping him out of the air as she regarded him. She brought him to her face, and he could feel her warm breath as she playfully planted a kiss over his entire face, her pillowy soft lips enveloping him and leaving a small trace of her spit coating his head.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered, “You just usually don’t ah… well-“

“I should be the one saying sorry,” she said with a sigh. “My thoughts wandered in your direction, and I suppose you started… floating as a result.”

“Why me?” he asked curiously, “and… what exactly are you doing when you sit like this? Not that I don’t mind the ah… accommodations,” he said, glancing back at her chest.

“When a magician meditates they might be preparing a lengthy spell, contemplating the best use of magic, or in my case, thinking on the stars and trying to notice patterns,” Tyrael explained. “The heavens flow upon the web of fate, as do we, and I can sometimes divine things or draw power from them.

Arthur thought a moment, “that’s how you knew to go after the Lich’s crown?” Arthur asked, “you were watching the stars…”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I foresaw that it would be claimed soon.”

“But not who would claim it?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Not everything can be seen, even for one as skilled as I am in astrology,” Tyrael said with a small smile.

“I get it,” Arthur muttered, “It’s like… fishing, right? You can cast a line in a certain area, but if what you need isn’t there, then it simply isn’t there…”

“Very good,” Tyrael said with a nod, “You know Arthur you don’t have much magical potential… but you grasp the concepts well, perhaps one day I should instruct you along with the others.”

Arthur waved dismissively, “I was tested along with all the other boys in my youth, the Imperial recruiter told me it would take me a hundred years of work before I’d ever so much as throw a fireball.”

“And if you had the time?” Tyrael asked suddenly, “Would that… would that interest you?”

Arthur blinked, “That’s ah… well as a hypothetical, I suppose there are many things I would do-“

“Like what?” Tyrael asked excitedly, “if you had all the time in the world, what would you want to see?”

“The northern wilds,” Arthur decided, “and…” he chuckled a moment, “It can’t possibly be true, but I’ve heard that down in the jungles of the Amazon Queendom there are lizards the size of houses! I guess I’d like to see one of those… Why the questions Tyrael? Aren’t we already on one adventure?”

“Just fanciful thinking,” Tyrael said, running a hand over his head. She chuckled a moment, “Lizards the size of a house?”

“I met a man who spent some time in the Queendom, and he swears it’s true!” Arthur insisted.

“Perhaps we’ll go that way someday,” Tyrael muttered, “For now…” she focused on him and her smile took on a mischievous tint. “I need to be at my best for whatever challenge this orc has for us, now how should I relax before taking it on?”

“I have an idea,” Arthur said with a smirk.

“Actually, I wanted to try something new,” Tyrael said, standing up. She casually tossed him to the bed like a stone to a pond, and as he flailed through the air as the expansive bed below him contracted, going from an endless field to a simple mattress as he bounced onto it.

“Bigger?” he questioned, flipping over with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you finally want me to hold you down?”

“Not quite,” Tyrael said, climbing over the baseboard and letting the mattress creak below her as she crawled towards him with a grin.

Arthur gulped as he realized that the elf hadn’t restored all of his size. Elves were short by human standards, Tyrael was tall for their kind at a mere five foot five, but if he had to guess she’d only given him four feet of his own height back. Her arms came down on either side of him like pillars, slender and pale bars to a prison while the blonde elf’s grinning face was the ceiling.

“I’m curious as to what Tina finds so appealing about this,” Tyrael drawled, “and besides, you did want to visit the Amazon Queendom someday, you might find yourself in this position if we ever make it that far south.”

He blinked, “Y-You’d see me with an Amazon?” he questioned.

Tyrael smirked and leaned down, whispering in his ear, “it’s three women for every one man down there, it would be rude not to let the locals sample you… and of course I’m sure a woman from such a society would have no problem with me watching.” He grunted as her arms grasped his wrists, holding him down, “There is certainly an attraction to overpowering a human physically…” she muttered.

“And being overpowered,” Arthur grunted, pushing against her with all of his might. She gritted her teeth a moment, but easily forced him back down to the bed. He licked his lips and grinned, “Well… how are you going to undress yourself and keep me pinned?”

Tyrael whispered a well memorized spell under her breath. Arthur watched, stunned, as her clothing seemed to split and separate from her, seamlessly weaving itself together again and folding itself neatly on the chair. Tyrael’s pert breasts hung over him as she grinned down, now naked, and he grunted for air a moment later as they smothered his face. The soft lilac smell of elven skin filled his nostrils as the elf’s arms laced behind his head, pulling him against her while she laughed softly.

He gasped as she lifted herself up, letting him pant for air as she slowly sidled down his body. Her weight was still enough that he couldn’t have hoped to throw her off if he’d wanted to, and as she positioned herself over him they made eye contact again. Her hands came down to his chest, the soft palms tracing over his body as she lowered herself onto him with a gasp.

“This is delightful,” Tyrael said, rocking her hips slowly against him. He groaned with her as she drove down on him, controlling the pace of their lovemaking, using her relatively Amazonian size to keep him pinned while she rode him gently. “Normally I like my humans smaller than this,” Tyrael breathed, causing Arthur to grunt as she bore down on him with slightly more force, “but… this certainly has an appeal…” She giggled and leaned down, “perhaps merely shrinking all humans to this size would be a good compromise for our peoples?”

“I don’t think the other humans will go for it,” he laughed.

“Smaller then?” Tyrael taunted. Arthur felt his skin slide along the bed as the elf fine-tuned his height. He winced in slight pain as she bore down on him again. She was easily twice his size now, and while the look of bliss on her own face suggested his reduced size hadn’t reduced his effectiveness, he found himself wincing as she slammed into him again, picking up her pace and bringing her weight down on him as her pleasure rose.

“Oh, there we go,” Tyrael hissed, smiling and letting her head loll back as she bucked her hips against his hard enough to make him gasp in surprise. She rocked against him again, her massive hands holding him down as he bucked feebly back.

The pair drew in breath, and then gasped together as the towering elf drove herself down onto him a final time, collapsing into him and hugging him back against herself was the waves of pleasure washed over them. With a huff Tyrael went limp, draping herself over the tiny human like a blanket and holding him loosely in her embrace for a moment longer as the two enjoyed the afterglow.

“I don’t suppose you could make me small and put me somewhere discreet for the rest of the day?” he murmured.

Tyrael sighed, “Unlikely, whatever this orc wants… we might need you for it.”

Arthur chuckled as he found himself suddenly full size, now the one cradling the petite elf in his arms instead of the reverse.

“And what exactly could I do that three elven mages couldn’t?” Arthur asked.

“Three elven mages and a human is more than three elven mages,” Tyrael said offhandedly, “Come on, let’s go find the others.”

…

The great courtyard of the fortress had been cleared of workout equipment, save for two bars loaded with iron plates that rested before a great throne where the aged orc, Rok, sat. The various disciples of Zyzzrac had gathered around the edges, watching and whispering as the four of them entered the yard. The orc woman who had led the ambush crossed her arms, smirking at them as she leaned against the brick wall.

“Time to see what you’re made of,” she chuckled with a wink. Arthur stepped closer to Tyrael, eyeing her nervously. He was a tall man, but the orc stood a head taller than him, and while she still had a feminine form, her figure was muscular enough that he had no doubt she’d overpower him with ease.

“Well, are you rested and ready?” Rok called to Tyrael.

“Yes, you’ve been a most gracious host,” Tyrael said with a nod, “now, what do we have to do to be sent on our way?”

“It’s quite simple,” Rok said with a smile, “I have two bars here, loaded with weight, someone from your group must lift each one.”

“I don’t get why we’re entertaining this,” Tina muttered, “Mistress Tyrael, give the order and we’ll shrink all of these fools and walk right out of here.”

“I heard that!” Rok called with a laugh.

Tina scowled and stepped away from the group, “And what would you do if we decided not to play along? You don’t have a single spellcaster here!”

Rok glanced at Tyrael, and the two shared an odd smile, “Start with me then whelp,” the orc muttered, forcing himself up out of his chair.

Tina glanced at Tyrael, who shrugged, “Go and see Tina, it will be a good learning experience.”

Tina scowled and walked towards Rok. The orc leader was old, sinewy, with a grace to his movements that suggested far more skill than mere strength. Tina held up a hand, silently casting a spell meant to reduce him to mere inches. His hand shot out like lightning, there was a spark, then a brief snapping sound. Rok’s muscles flared a moment, and he slowly breathed out, opening his hand and letting a small puff of smoke rise into the air.

Tina’s face was white, “D-Did you just-“

“He caught your spell,” Tyrael said with a smile, “I’ve heard of orcs and humans who hone their minds and bodies to the point where they can physically grasp magic, but I’ve never seen it done… Your strength and reflexes are commendable!”

“It is nice to be appreciated,” Rok chuckled, casually brushing his hands together, as if wiping them off. He glanced at his awed followers, who were muttering excitedly. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he shouted, “with diligence and a supplement of faith the size of a mustard seed, you can deadlift mountains.”

He turned back to the elves and Arthur, “this first bar,” he gestured to the iron rod, with a pair of plates of steel on either side, “is made of a particular dwarven alloy, infused with melted dragonscales… your magic will slide right off it.”

Elwyn balked, “D-Dragonscales? How are we supposed to lift it then?”

“I don’t know about you two, but I get winded carrying books up and down the stairs,” Tina said nervously.

“I’ll have to try,” Arthur muttered.

Tyrael took a deep breath, “Stand back,” she muttered. The archmage held out her hand. The elves watched, stunned, as the plates on the bar rippled slightly, then slowly began to glow blue. A bead of sweat rolled down Tyrael’s forehead as she gritted her teeth, and a moment later the bar slowly began to lift.

“Overwhelming dragonscale with sheer magical power,” Rok said, clapping as the bar raised over their heads, “take note everyone, see the strength that diligence and effort can bring!”

Tyrael breathed out, panting as the bar fell back to the earth with a clang that caused the crowd to erupt in cheers. Arthur ran to her side, steadying her as she smiled, wiping the slight sheen of sweat from her forehead as she stood back up.

“Excellent work,” Rok nodded, gesturing to the next bar, “This one is blessed by our great god himself, it cares not for physical strength, but strength of character.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

“It can only be lifted by the pure of heart,” Rok explained. Seeing Arthur’s worried look he barked a harsh laugh, “Don’t worry humie, it’s very lenient, but if you’ve got any murders or grievous crimes you’ve been hiding… well I wouldn’t pick it up, and I wouldn’t tell any lies once it’s in hand, or it’ll get so heavy it’ll snap your spine in two!” He gestured to Tyrael, “will you take the next challenge archmage?”

There was a sudden quiet, both of her apprentices looked to the older elf, expecting her to easily take the second challenge as eagerly as she had the first, but Tyrael’s face was stone.

After a moment she turned to Arthur, “Overwhelming the dragonscale weight too more out of me than I thought,” she said, “would you mind Arthur?”

“Er, of course,” he said, blinking in surprise as he walked to the bar.

He gripped it, finding it rose easily in spite of it’s intimidating size. Strength of character, he thought curiously, well I’ve never done anything too bad… I don’t think.

As it left the ground Rok called to him, “Now, you’re not tourists, are you?”

Arthur gulped, looking back to the elves who were suddenly nervous, “O-Of course we are-“ he grunted in pain as the bar suddenly became heavier. For a moment he worried it would plunge to the ground, breaking his bones.

“Don’t be lying while you’re holding that,” Rok reminded him.

It was a all a setup, Arthur realized, this whole thing was to get one of us to pick this up so he could question us!

“W-We’re on a quest!” Arthur managed, “a-an important mission!”

“Which would be?” Rok asked, crossing his arms impatiently.

“We seek the tomb of Uzzuq the Lich,” Tyrael said, stepping forward.

“That true humie?” Rok asked, glancing back at him.

“Y-Yes!” Arthur managed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the bar became light again, and he let it fall to the ground.

“Hmm…” Rok, chewed his lip, regarding them as his followers whispered amongst themselves. “You four don’t seem like the types to be interested in a place like that,” he said slowly.

“W-We’re trying to keep what’s in there from falling into the wrong hands!” Elwyn stammered, stepping forward too, “Mistress Tyrael is one of the most powerful elven mages in the world, and she’s foreseen its location!”

“If even half the stories I heard about that place around campfires are true, then the wrong hands would be just about anyone’s,” Rok said with a small scowl. “I’m not sure how I feel about allowing a trio of elves to go after such a thing.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, lifting the bar in the air again. The bar felt lighter this time, and the motion drew Rok’s attention, causing the orc to raise an eyebrow.

“Tyrael is the right hands,” Arthur said firmly. “I’ll say this, these elves have treated me well, taken me in, and I don’t believe Tyrael would ever use anything in that tomb for evil purposes.”

“Telling the truth… or at least you think you are,” Rok muttered, glancing at the bar.

“They could have mind controlled him!” Naz said accusingly.

“Wouldn’t work,” Rok muttered, “the bar would have dispelled it…” he stroked his beard for a moment, the yard grew quiet as his followers leaned in, wondering what the aged orc would decide. “Tyrael… you know we’ve heard about you even out on the plains,” he said finally, “not a lot, but the fact that I heard your name at all out there says you must be an important elf… an important elf with a human vouching for you is a strange thing.”

“Our relationship is a strange one,” Tyrael admitted with a small smile.

“And would you lift this bar, telling me that you plan to use nothing in that temple for yourself?” Rok asked.

Tyrael sighed, stepping forward. Arthur felt the telltale tingle of a shrinking spell, and as his height dropped Tyrael’s hands stretched out, taking the bar from him. He looked at her curiously, but she remained stone faced.

“I will use nothing from the Tomb of Uzzuq for myself, or for my Empress, or any of the arms and armies of the Elven Realms,” she said, making eye contact with Rok. A few seconds later she dropped it, letting it clang ominously to the ground as she and Arthur stepped back to her two apprentices.

“And your party just grows stranger,” the old orc chuckled, “Very well… I suppose there’s nothing to do but send you on your way.”

“Weird bunch of knife ears,” Naz muttered, crossing her arms, “traveling with a humie and they’re not trying to take over the world?”

“Traveling with an orc too,” Rok said, turning to her, “you’re going with them.”

Tyrael paused, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but we’re not looking for additional-“

“Now listen,” Rok said, turning to Tyrael, “elves all think they’re so old, wise, smart, all that, but if you’re serious about digging up that tomb… I think your magic and that humie’s gun won’t cut it, you’ll need someone who’s strong, someone to do some smashing.”

“Wait a moment,” Naz protested, “Rok…” she chewed her lip, “Grandfather, surely someone else can go with them?”

He snorted, “The only reason I’m not going myself is that I have to run things here, besides you can’t spend your whole life exercising! Go have an adventure, they’re cheat days for the soul.”

The green orc woman scowled, stalking over to the group, “I am… at your disposal,” she growled. Tina and Elwyn cowered under the looming orc’s gaze, and Tyrael just sighed.

“Very well,” the archmage said with a small smile, “Shall we be on our way?”

…

Naz traveled light, as they all did, and soon she’d joined their group, a frown on her face her large battleaxe thrown across her back as she rode behind them.

“So what are we going to do about her?” Arthur whispered, coming up to Tyrael’s side.

“Nothing,” Tyrael said with a shrug, “an orc who knows her way around an axe could prove useful, and I doubt that she’s likely to go against her grandfather’s instructions to help us.”

“So you’re our cook?” Naz asked, bringing her horse alongside Arthur’s and interrupting their conversation.

“Usually, yes,” Arthur said hesitantly.

“What’s the protein situation like?” Naz asked nervously, “like obviously we’ll have a dozen eggs each for breakfast, but-“

“How many eggs!?” Arthur asked, stunned, “do you see any hens? We’ll have salt beef and hardtack until we find a town or I shoot us a rabbit.”

She scowled, “it’s no wonder these two elves are so weak,” She leaned over and casually plucked Tina out of her saddle, causing the pink haired elf to squeal in surprise as the orc lifted her by the back of her tunic. “Look! She’s skin and bones!” Naz said accusingly.

“Put me down!” Tina shouted, “M-Mistress Tyrael, do I have permission to shrink the orc?”

…

Arthur shivered as the wind blew from the north, causing the campfire to flutter slightly. He’d prepared them all dinner, adding a double portion of meat to the stew to accommodate their newest traveling companion. As he looked up at the stars he was suddenly glad he’d done so, the heartier meal would be nice on the surprisingly cold night.

“We’re getting farther north,” Tyrael said casually, coming to sit next to him. “Even around this time of year, you get a few chills at night… we’re going to end up at the sea, they say the wind coming off of it chills the bones no matter how brightly the sun shines.”

“I’ve never been,” Arthur said with a small smile, “but I’m sure I can think of ways to keep warm.”

Tyrael glanced at the three other sleeping rolls around the campfire, from the collected snores they were the only ones still awake. The two shared a smile as Arthur felt the world stretch and contort away from him. A set of familiar elven fingers reached down through the hole of his collar, grasping him and pulling him up even as Tyrael gently stuffed his clothing into his nearby pack.

“It was nice of you to stick up for my character back there,” she said, standing up and regarding him with a smile. “Not many elves have a human that will say such kind things about them.”

“It’s true,” Arthur said, perplexed, “I don’t there’s anyone as powerful or as kind as you… well anywhere I guess.”

She stroked his head a moment and smirked, “Oh I don’t know about that,” she said teasingly, leaning down to unlace her boots, “maybe I’m the worst elf of them all, and I’m only able to keep myself in check because I have a human to pick on?” She pulled her foot free of her boot, wiggling her socked toes as he looked on, feeling himself grow hard in anticipation. “You did mention being cold,” she teased.

“I-I did,” he stammered.

Tyrael slowly pulled the white cotton of the sock away from her ankle, then with a casual motion tossed Arthur down into the opening. He felt her magic buzz around him again, reducing his size from that of a doll to a mere corn kernel.

Tyrael released her grip on the sock, letting it snap shut, sealing him in with the stale lilac smell of the elf’s feet, well worn from a day of travel. Tyrael hummed softly to herself as she retired to her own bedroll, scrunching her toes playfully as she felt him tumble down along her ankle and to the base of her foot as she walked.

Arthur’s body slid against her silky skin as she slid into her own bedroll, sealing him away from the world as she felt him sidle underneath her toes where he belonged. She gripped her pillow and smiled, gripping him and releasing him lightly. Finally, the tiny human was wedged between her toes, and she let herself drift off to sleep.

Arthur grunted with exertion, pressing against the pair of toes that were larger than his entire body, the lilac scent of Tyrael’s feet filling his senses as he blinked in the darkness. The motion of her toes against him was intoxicating, even at this size her skin was unbelievably soft, and as he fought against the grimy digits he found himself rising to attention below.

He wasn’t sure if Tyrael was consciously teasing him, or if it was just the soft motion of her feet against his trapped form, but either way he felt his body spasm with pleasure as he was pinched between her toes, rubbed slowly back and forth. It didn’t take long before he gripped the digit, gasping into the dark tomb of Tyrael’s sock, feeling pleasure wash over him as his body went slack. Tyrael’s toes curled over him one last time before he felt his own sleep take him.