It’s good to be the king. Or at least that’s what everyone said. For King Albert of Baldania, being the king wasn’t so good, in fact he’d have given just about anything in the world to NOT be the king. As it stood his new bodyguards had proven multiple times that they could run faster than he could, so he was stuck.

“And so my liege,” Lord Sines, his advisor, continued, “there are a number of-“

“Are you absolutely sure I’m the old king’s only living relative?” he asked again, hoping against hope that Sines had “good” news on that front.

“Sire,” the elderly man began in a tired voice, “you are the king’s only son, yes a lowborn bastard to be sure, but your lineage is properly royal.”

Albert spared a glance up at the old king’s portrait. He’d been a broad-shouldered man with a billowing black beard and a bald spot shone even in a painting, and he held an axe the size of a wagon wheel overhead. Albert, by contrast, was often described as a prettyboy by millworkers he assured himself were just jealous. With a boyish grin and a lithe figure, he’d caught the eye of plenty of village maidens in spite of his short stature. One thing was for sure, he bore almost no resemblance to the hoary battle scared former monarch. When they’d dragged him out of the mill and insisted he was the king’s last living heir, he’d thought it was an elaborate joke. If the King HAD been his father, he’d certainly been an absentee one, Albert had spent most of his youth in an orphanage and the rest working for the miller.

“If you say so,” he muttered. “Continue your report of the kingdom’s affairs…”

Most people would be happy to find out they inherited a kingdom, but most people weren’t Albert, and most kingdoms weren’t Baldania. Known for years as “the sick man” of the continent, the tiny realm had historically avoided annexation by its larger neighbor, the Human Empire, largely because of its mountainous borders, and today because of an economy so poor that any would-be conquerors would run a loss by taking it. For his part, Albert had finally saved up enough of his wages to leave the kingdom for… well, anywhere else really, when the men had grabbed him and coronated him against his will.

“We are currently facing a large invasion led by bandits,” Sines explained, “A one, “Brodda the Beast” leads them. They have pillaged several farm estates and they will soon strike at larger settlements. In our efforts to modernize our military, we equipped our soldiers with the latest technology, these firearms I’m told are quite effective in combat-“

“That’s great!” Albert said, smiling at the good news, “So this Brodda character, they scattered his army, right?”

“Well…” Sines cleared his throat, “as it turns out these “guns” as they are called, are a little more complicated than a sword, and the men couldn’t read the manuals the arms merchants sent them with… they ended up leaving most of them on the battlefield.” Sines paused a moment, “Brodda on the other hand, is apparently quite literate, and has equipped his own forces with the weapons.”

Albert stared at his advisor in shock, “So we nearly bankrupted the kingdom buying guns for every criminal in the land!?”

“Nearly?” Sines said, “Oh no, we’re quite bankrupt. Those two knights at your side are the only remaining levies we can call upon.”

Albert looked from side to side at his bodyguards and sighed, “Okay, what else?”

“The great lich Ponteforus has raised an army of skeletons out of the southern deadlands,” Sines said, “he claims he will create a kingdom of the dead and-“

“Okay, lich, skeletons, next,” Albert said, growing irritated.

“A dragon-“ Sines started

“A dragon?” Albert asked, wide eyed, “a gods damned dragon too?”

“Your grace,” Sines said, “if this is all too much for you-“

“What else?” he roared, “what else could possibly be wrong?”

“A harpy,” Sines finished, “it may seem a minor affair, but a harpy has taken up residence in the tower where your late father’s master bedroom was.”

Albert fumed a moment, “Okay,” he said, standing up, “someone get me a sword or something, I’m going to go deal with at least one of these problems today!”

…

Albert plodded up the stairs, a set of ill-fitting armor clanking as the two knights followed behind him. He sweated in the plate mail as he tried to make it up to the top of the tower, but he tried not to show any weakness to his bodyguards. If he was going to survive this king thing, he was going to need to be strong.

He tried to think about what he knew of harpies. They were all female, he knew that much, and they tended to kidnap men during their mating seasons. Supposedly they weren’t keen on direct confrontation, being more playful in nature. The other monsters and bandits plaguing the kingdom? Utterly beyond him, chasing one bird-woman out of his father’s old tower? He could handle that, surely? A simple start to tackling the kingdom’s problems, one that would show his new subjects he meant business!

“I think the problem with this kingdom,” he explained, stopping with a huff in front of the bedroom door, “Is that a lot of the leadership doesn’t want to do the hard jobs.”

“Of course, your majesty,” one of the knights said with a nod.

“Now then,” He said, hoisting the armored trousers up, no matter how tight he cinched the belt they just wouldn’t stay, “I’m going to go in there, and chase the harpy out! You two stay here, and bar the door so the Harpy can’t flee into the castle.”

“Your majesty,” One knight asked uncertainly, “have you ever fought any monsters before?”

“We had a hobgoblin at the mill once,” he said with a smile, “I kicked its ass!” The two knights exchanged glances, and then stepped back as their young king approached the door. “All right,” he said, giving them his best grin, “that harpy’s about to learn there’s a new king around here!”

With that he kicked the door open, shouting as he ran inside. Per his instructions he heard the door slam behind him, and a heavy oak bar slap across it on the other side. He looked around the enormous master bedroom, seeing the blankets and the pillows from the king-sized four poster bed strewn about. Drawers and cabinets were thrown open too, various robes and garments laying on the floor.

His eyes narrowed, noticing the double doors to the balcony were open. Maybe he’d missed her? He chuckled to himself, sheathing the sword and walking over to the doors. He could just lock these, then the Harpy wouldn’t be able to get back in, problem solved! He turned the lock on the wooden doors, chuckling to himself over how easy the whole thing had been.

There was a thump as something heavy hit the ground behind him. He froze, hearing a girlish giggle and the sound of ruffling wings. A pair of bright red feathers drifted down in front of his eyes as he gulped, and, with a deep breath, he forced himself to turn around.

His eyes met a soft feminine stomach, and his gaze trailed up to a perky chest barely contained by a woven top, finally he forced himself to look the rest of the way up, meeting the blue eyes of the smiling woman’s face looking down at him.

“Hi!” she said eagerly.

“AH!” he shouted, tumbling backwards against the balcony doors. “Stay back!” he fumbled for his sword even as the enormous harpy stepped towards him.

He got a good look at her as his back hit the locked doors. She had vibrant red hair that was overgrown and wind swept, and feathers the same shade of crimson trailed from her arms… wings? A pair of very human hands extended from the joint of those avian appendage, and with the forepart of the wings folded back she almost looked like she had a normal pair of arms. Her lower half was covered by a small loin cloth that just barely preserved her decency, and a pair of luscious thighs traced down from a perfectly round bottom until they reached her knee, where her skin became scaly and rough, like a bird’s legs. Like a raptor, she had a set of three toed feet, ending in sharp talons no doubt used for seizing her prey from the air.

Albert flinched as a massive taloned foot came up, splintering into the wood behind him and pinning him against the wall as the birdlike toes gripped him. With a giggle she reached down, keeping him pinned with her leg as she plucked his sword out of his scabbard.

“Oooh,” she said admiringly as the blade caught the light, “shiny!” She tossed it away, causing it to clatter on the floor. Her head swiveled back to him, tilting slightly as she regarded him.

He gulped and struggled against the talon a moment, not managing to budge her. His mind raced, and he tried to remember anything else he knew about harpies. They startled easily, right? Maybe he just needed to take command of the situation!

“Harpy!” he said in his firmest voice, “Shoo! Go on! Get!”

“Wow,” She said, frowning, “Rude!” She glanced behind him, “and you’re the one who shut all the doors too! How was I supposed to leave even if I wanted to?”

He gulped, aware of the talon across his chest tightening slightly, “I could ah, open them.”

“Why would I leave?” she asked with a frown, “This is my nest!” She pointed upwards to the massive ceiling beams. Albert’s eyes traced up and he saw an immense bird’s nest constructed from thick tree limbs and clay, the remnants of the royal bedspread and some of the king’s finer robes were torn up and lining it as insulation.

“Making good use of the high ceiling,” he muttered.

“Yep!” the harpy said cheerfully, “and it stays dry when it rains, and warm when it’s cold!”

He cleared his throat, “Well, this is the KING’S room in the KING’S castle, so you need to go!”

She looked at him quizzically, “The human king died, I heard about it like a month ago or something.”

“Yes,” he said, “well, I’m the new one, and this is my castle and MY bedroom.”

“I got here first,” the harpy said, sticking her tongue out at him, “early bird gets the worm!”

“Look,” he said, gripping the talons and trying to wrest them off him, “I’m the king now! I have a whole kingdom! You have to get out of here.”

“Hmm…” She mused, leaning in close, “kind of a small king… cute though.”

“I mean it!” he said, “If I yell, those men will storm right in here!”

She looked at the door, then back to him, “Hey everyone, I’ve got the king!” she called playfully.

“WE BELIEVE IN YOU YOUR GRACE!” one of the knights called, “This door won’t budge until you’ve won!”

“This fucking kingdom…” Albert muttered angrily.

The harpy just giggled, and the talon loosened, tracing up to the hem of his armor and pulling it loose. The leather straps snapped easily from the harpy’s grasp, and without that central piece holding it together the arm plates came free too, and as his shining steel clattered and clanged to the ground around him, he felt himself shivering in his undershirt and smallclothes under the harpy’s amused gaze.

“This is another great part about living down here in the tower,” the harpy said with a devious smile, “when you live up in the mountains, you’ve got to fly around looking for humans… but here? Cute ones just walk into your nest!”

She extended her arms, the beautiful crimson patterned wings unfolding as the harpy flapped her wings, lifting off the ground. Albert yelled in shock as the talons shot out, grabbing each of his arms as the harpy flew upwards. He grunted in surprise as he was tossed into the nest she’d built among the tower’s ceiling beams, rolling amid the shed red feathers and tattered remains of blankets and clothing.

She fluttered down in front of him, kneeling in a manner that still left her looming over him easily. She giggled as she moved closer to him, enjoying the scared way he scuttled back against the edge of the nest.

“You don’t need to be so territorial,” She said in a sultry voice, leaning over him, “I don’t mind sharing this space with a cute little human like you…” She thought a moment, “I really should just take you for a husband, but since you’re kind of an important human, being the king and all, I think I’ll just have to let you come and go as you want for now.”

“Very generous of you,” Albert breathed, his heart pounding.

“What’s your name? If you’re going to be plodding around my nest all the time from now on, I need to know it.”

“Albert,” he said hesitantly, then, more boldly, “KING Albert.”

“I’m Cyrene,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “Your little heart is going as fast as a field mouse!” she laughed. Suddenly she froze, her eyes going wide, “I heard from a human once that stress can kill you guys! Is that true?”

He blinked, “Uh, well not-“

“He was a doctor too, he said stress is killer!” She gasped, “oh, and you’re the king! Do you think stress might have killed the last king?”

Albert was about to say something about an assassin and a crossbow bolt, but Cyrene just raised one of her fingers to his mouth, idly he noticed in place of a fingernail she had something more like a claw.

“Don’t talk!” She said urgently, “you’re just going to stress yourself out even more!”

She reached her clawed hand down and, with one easy tug, tore his shirt clean off him. He shouted in surprise, but the harpy didn’t seem to take any heed. Instead, she reached up, and began unlacing the coarse cloth top she was wearing, the read feathers of her forewing slapped across his face, tickling him and causing him to sneeze. When the crimson down flashed across his face again the harpy knelt over him, her proud and pert breasts on display. His eyes bulged as he took in the view, those perky pink nipples seemed to call to him.

“Oh,” she said suddenly. She bit her lip, “Does this kind of thing give human men stress? I guess it would explain why you’re always trying to run away from us-“

“No,” he breathed, “I uh… It’s definitely helping me feel more… relaxed.”

“Great!” The harpy beamed, “I was worried there for a minute.” Her hands came down and, with the same force as his shirt, easily tore his underwear to ribbons, leaving him completely naked.

“Yummy,” Cyrene giggled, looking at his rising erection. Her hands traced over his naked body again, causing him to shiver slightly at the touch of those clawed fingers. Her massive palm went flat against his chest, pushing him down. As he watched she reached down to her side, pulling another set of laces and letting the rugged looking loincloth she wore fall to the nest’s floor.

The harpy’s womanhood was covered in a patch of rough hair the same crimson shade as her feathers, and she giggled as he took it in. Her finger came down and twirled through the hair, giving him a good look at the glistening wet lips that seemed almost to call to him.

“Have you ever been with a woman…” she paused, licking her lips, “like me?”

“Like you?” he gulped, looking up at the harpy’s towering form, “no, not like you.”

“I’ll try to go easy on you then,” she giggled, “we ARE trying to reduce your stress after all.”

 She hovered over him a moment, then lowered herself onto his waiting manhood. He gasped as he felt her slick wetness envelop him, and the harpy herself seemed pleased at the feeling. She leaned down, reaching around and cradling his head lovingly as her face came down to his.

She had an earthy and outdoorsy smell to her, the mix of dirt and sweat he recognized from hunters and farmhands. From her though there was something else, different, airier, lighter somehow? Like the wind off a mountain after a spring storm. He inhaled it deeply, and found himself almost embarrassed at how the essence of this wild harpy was affecting him so, but not nearly embarrassed enough to pull away.

She kissed him suddenly, her powerful tongue forcing his lips apart and exploring his mouth, filling it and almost casually pushing his own down and out of the way. It filled him, sensually crawling over the roof of his mouth and seeming to delight in how defenseless he was against it.

The first thrust took him by surprise, both the force and the speed, and he grunted in shock as pleasure jolted up his spine. He would have cried out, but Cyrene was still passionately kissing him, a low moan escaping her as she continued to ravage his mouth. He squirmed as her pace didn’t stall, hammering against him so hard he winced.

He squirmed against her iron grip, and as he got a hand free her own darted out, catching his wrist and pinning him to the nest. She leaned back up, finally letting him breateh as her immense form loomed over him, hammering down onto him again and again, causing them both to grunt with pleasure.  Their eyes met, and he saw a wild hunger in hers, the fierce and predatory gaze of a harpy who had captured her mate and was forcing him into submission. He gulped nervously, and the show of fear seemed to invigorate her, causing Cyrene to drive into him even harder.

Their pleasure rose together, his thrashing would increase, and her grip on him would tighten, and then almost to rebuke him she would ride him harder. She had a goofy grin on her face, a victorious one even, looking down at the human king who was powerless to resist her, who was being driven mad with pleasure as she brought herself to bear on him with the speed and force of a chariot.

“Cyrene!” he gasped, “P-Please-“

“Yes!” She crowed happily, “say my name! Beg me!”

His head rocked back and his eyes threatened to roll into his skull, “Cyrene!” he shouted again, “I’m going to-“

He shuddered and convulsed, still easily held down by the larger harpy as orgasm rocked his body. From the howls of pleasure overhead she was finishing herself, and for a brief moment she continued to ride him, causing him to almost see stars.

Finally, the haze of orgasm faded, and with a chuckle the harpy lifted herself off him. She sighed contentedly and crouched next to him. She ran her hands along his body almost lovingly, and eventually those taloned feet gripped his arms again, lifting him up as the harpy took flight again.

He was unsteady on his feet as she lowered him back down to the floor, his legs felt like jelly and he was certain his ears had popped. He blinked, thoughts and sensation returning to him slowly as he felt the harpy lift up his arm, gently sliding the sleeve of a long purple robe down it. The garment tightened as she tied a sash around his waist, effectively clothing him.

“There you go,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Are you feeling less stressed out now?”

“Yes,” he muttered, still swaying slightly. That had been… an experience, that was for sure. He was feeling a lot of things, but stressed wasn’t one of them.

“I had a good time too,” she said with a wink, “it’s going to be really fun sharing this tower with you!” She guided him towards the door, her taloned hand on his back as she towered over him.

“S-Sharing?” he muttered, looking up at her smiling face. “I umm…” he sighed, “Okay, I’ll have to send for a new set of blankets for the bed-“

“Pfft,” the harpy snorted derisively, “the bed? No way, there’s plenty of room up there!” she pointed up at the nest in the rafters. “I’ll just fly you up and down, we’ll probably be going to bed and getting up around the same time anyways.”

“Of course,” he said, still in shock.  

“Well, you should probably go do your king-stuff now,” Cyrene said, stopping in front of the door back out to the stairway, “try not to let that stress creep up on you again, okay? If it does, come find me!”

With that she opened the door and ushered him out, and he stumbled into the small open space at the top of the stairs. The door closed behind him, and the two bodyguards, who had been lounging on the far side from the door stood up suddenly, as if surprised to see him.

“Y-Your majesty!” one said, “You’ve surv-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat, “Did you kill the harpy?”

“Ah no, I dealt with it,” he said, pulling the oversized robe a bit tighter around himself.

“So you drove the harpy off?” The other knight asked.

“I DEALT with it,” he said firmly, “no more questions! We’ve got… king stuff to do.”

The two men stared at him silently a moment.

“What?” he spat, finally.

“Your majesty,” one said, “you’ve got a thing in your hair.”

He blinked, and then reached up, feeling around until he felt something clinging to his ruffled and messy hair. Pulling it down he sighed, it was a crimson feather.

…

Albert blinked awake, yawning and stretching. He reached down for a blanket and frowned, seeing the sheet of read feathers stretching down from the harpy’s arm. He glanced over, seeing Cyrene’s pert breasts eye level with him even as he was hugged against her like a favored stuffed toy.

Another king would have sent for knights to chase the harpy out, or at least demanded another room in the castle. He had no knights he would trust with the job, in fact the only thing his two bodyguards seemed capable of was grabbing him when he made a run for it and bringing him back to his throne. As for other rooms? He was the king damnit, he’d stay in the king’s bedroom… even if he hadn’t quite figured out how to get the harpy to vacate it yet.

“Morning,” she said sweetly, hugging him close to her massive frame again. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” he said, letting his arms hang wide as Cyrene’s birdlike talons closed around them. It was the truth, her feathers were softer than any blanket, and quite warm… but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it to her, or himself. He felt the now familiar sensation of being lifted out of the nest, and a moment later she gently let his feet touch the floor, then landed with a thud next to him.

“So, what are you doing today?” Cyrene asked pleasantly, walking over and opening the balcony doors.

“I’ve got to meet some new court wizard Sines has found for me,” he said with a scowl. “We can’t exactly afford to pay one, but he says this one will work on contingency.”

Cyrene paused, “What’s that mean?” she asked finally.

“It means he’ll work for the promise of money later,” Albert explained, putting his royal robe on.

“Ugh,” Cyrene said, rolling her eyes, “who knows if they’re going to have money later?”

“Not me,” Albert said with the hint of a smile, “but if you run into the wizard, don’t tell him that.”

“Probably won’t,” Cyrene said, missing the joke, “I’m flying out to a grassy field a few miles from here. This farmer just bought these nice shiny brass bells for all his cows, and they even have really nice velvet ribbons! I’m going to see if I can get a few off before he notices and chases me away.” Her eyes lit up a second, “hey, should I bring you one? Maybe the wizard will take it as payment!”

He looked at her eager face a moment, then forced a smile, “Sure, grab me one too if you can.” He fought a laugh as she gave him a thumbs up and fluttered out of the open balcony doors, taking off into the sky. He watched her go a moment, briefly envying the freedom.

…

Albert was seated on the throne, his two bodyguards on either side of him. Both men seemed relaxed this morning, he hadn’t tried to escape over breakfast like usual, and the king’s good mood seemed to have spread to his subjects.

“Your majesty,” Sines began, kneading his hands as he approached, “I couldn’t help but notice that the harpy flew out from the tower this morning… I thought you said you defeated-“

“I DEALT with the harpy,” he said firmly, “she will trouble us no more!”

“But she’s still living in the tower?” Sines inquired.

“She will trouble us no more,” he repeated crossly.

Sines stared a moment, then moved on, “The bandit army has advanced in our direction, apparently, they’ve decided to forsake smaller targets and attempt to take the capital. Our vassals have refused calls for aid, and are simply fortifying their own castles.”

“Lovely,” Albert muttered. “Any news on the lich?”

“He’s found an ancient spellbook, the Krotonomicon, and he’s declared an end to the age of the living,” Sines explained.

“Of course he has!” Albert said, throwing his hands up, “what about the dragon?”

“Oh,” Sines said brightly, “she’s apparently kidnapped a troupe of actors, they’re distracting her quite well for the moment by performing plays at her leisure.”

“Well thank the gods for small favors,” Albert muttered, “Right, on to new business, you said you have a wizard that is stup- enterprising enough, to work for us?”

Sines smiled, “indeed your majesty, but… please keep an open mind, and remember our financial state.”

Albert sighed, that certainly didn’t sound encouraging. He fought the urge to groan as Sines led a short young woman into the throne room. She was wearing a long blue robe with stars sewn on it, and she carried a large book in one hand and a staff in the other. A thick pair of glasses almost seemed to make her eyes bulge, and she had a short, tomboyish, haircut.

“Greetings!” she said eagerly, “It is I, Meghan the Magician! Here to save your kingdom and provide my wise counsel!”

“And where did you learn to use magic?” Albert asked.

The girl bit her lip, “Okay,” she said slowly, “there are lots of different kinds of smarts, there’s like, people who read a lot of books, and then there’s street smarts, you know?”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Albert said, sighing.

“Well, you might say I don’t have a lot of formal schooling,” Meghan admitted, “except the school of hard knocks, am I right?” she elbowed Sines, who grimaced. Albert just stared, his mouth a line.

“Can you use magic?” he asked simply.

“Oh yeah,” Meghan said, waving a hand dismissively, “what kind do you need?”

“Mostly destroying stuff,” Albert said, “fireballs, lightning, that sort of thing.”

Meghan’s eyes lit up, “I’ll do you one better!” She opened the book, flicking through the pages until she withdrew a note folded within them. “What if I could brew you a potion that would turn even one of your soldiers into an unstoppable one-man army?”

“That would be fantastic!” Albert said, sitting up eagerly, “how long would it take you to make it!?”

“I’ll make it today!” she said eagerly, “if I have the job, that is.”

“You’re hired!” Albert said excitedly, “Sines, get this girl whatever she needs!”

“Of course, your majesty,” the man said with a bow.

Finally, he thought, his luck seemed to be turning around!

…

Albert had been a little skeptical of Meghan’s prowess at first, but as he watched her work in the castle’s old alchemy lab, his opinion of her steadily rose. She walked from beaker to flask, occasionally filling one and then with a snap of her fingers causing a small blue flame to come into being underneath it. Another concoction began stirring itself in midair at her direction, and she beamed when she saw how impressed he was.

“This is amazing,” he breathed, looking at the bubbling liquids, “and you say you have no formal training?”

“I’m what they call a natural,” she said with a grin, “the free wizards who taught me a thing or two said that I’ve got the makings of an archmage, but…” she bit her lip.

“But what?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t really get along in the academic world,” she said, “too stuffy, didn’t even spend one month at the Imperial Academy before I got kicked out for… pushing my limits.”

“Pushing your limits?” he inquired uncertainly.

“Some things blew up, and some stuff that was expensive got a little…” she shrugged, “broken I guess.” She his horrified look she held up her hands, “don’t worry! Nothing I’m working with down here blows up…” She frowned, “I’m pretty sure.” She licked her lips and looked at the various mixtures, “lucky thing your old wizard had almost everything I needed…”

“I’m told he was more interested in fleeing the castle with all the gold he could carry rather than potions ingredients,” Albert said tersely.

“Jeez,” Meghan laughed, “this kingdom really is up-“ she shot him a look, “up a great new path to success,” she finished, “under your wise leadership.”

“Indeed,” he said, crossing his arms.

There was a whistle from the alchemy lab, and Meghan’s eyes lit up as she ran, her blue robe trailing. She reached a bubbling purple flask and pulled off a steel stand. With a flick of her wrist the blue flame underneath puffed out of existence, and she gently swirled the liquid inside, allowing it to cool.

“It’s ready!” the magician said eagerly, wafting the fumes towards him. It had an odd citrusy smell, with an undercurrent of something like cinnamon.

“So, you just… drink it?” he asked, eyeing the mixture suspiciously.

“Yep!” Meghan said, holding it out to him, “it should increase your strength, speed, stamina, all that, to superhuman levels!” She thought a moment, “some of the stuff your old wizard was keeping down here was pretty rare so… we’re only going to have this one unless we come into a lot of money somehow.”

“So we just have the one,” he muttered, “well…” He sighed, “I think I’m taking it then.”

Meghan gulped suddenly, “Uh, hey, your majesty, Al, maybe we could let someone more… expendable, try it?”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing, “aren’t you sure it works?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, laughing nervously, “b-but you’re the king, shouldn’t you just-“

“I’m the king of this castle, three assholes who won’t let me leave, and you,” he said irritably, “the world will keep turning if something happens to me.” He looked at the potion again and suddenly felt a pang of doubt. “This won’t… kill me, will it?”

“Kill you?” Meghan laughed, “No, there’s no way it would KILL you, I mean…” she bit her lip, “yeah, definitely will not kill you, let’s leave it at that.”

“Then bottoms up,” he muttered. He took a swig of the potion, feeling the first gulp slide down his throat. It had a surprisingly sweet taste, and he smacked his lips as he brought the flask down. He’d downed maybe half of it, and was about to go back for the rest, when he felt something odd.

“Is it supposed to itch?” he asked suddenly, “It feels like my clothes are sliding against my-“

“Oh no,” Meghan said, hands over her mouth.

“OH NO!?” he shouted, “What OH NO!?” he looked his hands and realized that they’d disappeared into his sleeves. He gasped in shock as he realized the flask with the potion was becoming heavier, and the ceiling of the room was getting further away. “Gods above,” he whispered, watching Meghan’s concerned face seem to drift away from him as he got smaller.

“Give me that!” she shouted, grabbing the flask from his shrinking form just before it became too heavy. He didn’t have time to protest or argue as his robe fell around him like a collapsing tent, hiding him from view. He struggled in the purple velvet, unsure of which way was out or where the world had gone.

Meghan stared in silence at the moving bump in the pile of the king’s clothing, “Oh I am so fired,” she moaned in a low voice. With a sigh she put the flask back on the table, and gently prodded the robes with her foot, nudging them out of the way and trying to expose the tiny king.

Albert blinked as light filled his cloth prison, and he almost fainted when he saw Meghan’s giant shoe holding a way open for him out of his own robe. Seeing no other choice, he nervously walked forward, trying to hold a hand over his privates while shivering at the cold air of the castle’s dungeon upon his naked skin.

“M-Meghan?” he stuttered, looking up at the titanic woman standing before him. No, not titanic, she was… he gulped, she was normal sized, he was small, a few inches at most.

“Okay,” she began, “this is obviously not what we wanted, but-“

“I’m the size of a mouse!” he shouted angrily.

There was a sudden knock on the door, “We heard shouting,” one of the guards said, “why’s this door locked?”

Meghan’s eyes went wide, and she looked down to him, “Meghan,” he said slowly, “don’t do anything-“

“I’m not going to jail or getting executed for this!” She hissed. “Sorry King Al, but…” She bit her lip, “I need to hide you until I can fix everything!”

He tried to flee, but she bent down and snatched him up effortlessly. The banging on the door increased, and Meghan glanced at it, and then to the tiny man squirming like a worm in her fist. With an apologetic smile she pulled the neck of her robe away, revealing a tight brassiere underneath which contained a petite pair of breasts.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “don’t panic, seriously, I’ll fix this!”

“NO!” he tried to call, but she was already reaching down towards her underwear, stuffing him easily inside.

He was immediately pressed between the cloth and the supple flesh, trapped in darkness as the giant magician walked to answer the door. He grimaced as the smell of her sweat and something else… an incense maybe? Filled his senses. The robes she wore were clearly too heavy for the climate, judging by just how damp she was here. If nothing else, the lubrication from the oily skin and dried sweat did give him some freedom to move, and he decided he’d fight his way out and try to get someone’s attention.

“Where’s the king?” he heard a muffled voice, the guard, ask.

“He uh…” Meghan began, “he said he was finally going to get away!”

“What!?” The guard shouted, “oh, if the king runs away Sines’ll have our heads! We won’t be able to find another royal bastard for the throne you know! The king only had so many!”

“That uh, that sucks,” Meghan said nervously, “quick, you guys better go check all the doors!”

“Right, come on!” the other guard shouted, and from his place trapped against her breast Albert could hear the clattering of footsteps as the guards went to stop his alleged escape attempt.

“Phew,” Meghan said, wiping sweat from her forehead. Suddenly her hair stood on end as the struggling king traced across her nipple. She giggled and clasped a hand to her breast, forcing him into it. “Naughty naughty!” she said, kneading her breast and mashing the tiny man.

Albert grunted as he sank into the soft flesh, her pert nipple the size of his entire head poking at him as Meghan tormented him. His hair was soaked through with her sweat now, and the flowing liquid seemed to carry that strange incense smell that covered her with it, permeating his own skin and seeming to mark him as the sorceresses own.

“Okay,” she sighed, the brief levity of teasing the shrunken king had given her a moment of mental clarity. “Now how do you get out of this one Meghan?”

Albert growled angrily, and tried forcing his way out of her bra again. She sighed, reaching a hand in to fish him out. She fought down a giggle as she dangled him by one arm in front of her face, he was completely soaked with her sweat, and giving her the most adorable angry look.

“Sorry,” she said, “the robes don’t really breathe, and it’s pretty stuffy down here… Anyway, we need to come to a sort of… understanding,” Meghan said slowly, “I’ll admit, I messed this one up.”

“How big of you,” he snarled.

She snorted with laughter, “Yeah, BIG of me,” She composed herself and continued, “I’m going to fix you, I promise, but you need to promise ME you’re not going to do anything crazy like have me executed once you’re back to normal.”

“Yes, fine, whatever,” he said angrily.

“Also I get to stay court wizard,” she added.

“Absolutely not!” he howled, “I can’t believe you’d even have the audacity to-“

“Fine,” she sniffed, “I’ll just go, but I’ll leave you right here on the floor.” She grinned, “I’m sure you’ll be able to signal for help before someone accidentally steps on you, or you get eaten by rats or something, and I’m sure you’ll find another mage who works for free who can fix you right up.”

“You’ve made your point,” he muttered, “fine, you can stay court wizard.” He wasn’t intending to keep that promise, but he needed her, for now at least.

“You know,” she mused, “those three idiots who forced you into this job might actually prefer you like this…” She grinned, “can’t abdicate your throne and run away at a few inches tall, maybe I’ll just take you right to Sines?”

“No!” Albert shouted, “Look, Meghan, why don’t we just keep this to ourselves?”

“Hmm…” she said, rubbing her chin, “We could, but to make an antidote for this potion I’m going to need to buy a few things… and I don’t have any money. Do you see the problem here?”

He sighed, desperately trying to think of a way to regain control of the situation. Suddenly an idea struck him, it wasn’t a good idea really, but it WAS an idea.

“I’ve got some gold hidden up in the royal bedroom,” he said slowly, “enough to buy whatever you need.”

“Now we’re talking!” Meghan said with a smile. She adjusted her glasses as she held him closer, giggling as he tried to squirm away and keep himself covered, “I’m going to have to hide you again.”

“Can’t you just carry me?” he protested.

“No, you could be seen,” Meghan said with a smug look, “but if you don’t want to go back in my top you could go a little… lower.”

“Top is fine,” he said, nodding eagerly.

“A wise course of action your majesty,” she chuckled.

She reached into her robe again, pulling the brassiere away from her skin. This time she lowered him in slowly, making she his body was practically straddling her nipple as it pushed into his stomach. With one final smug smirk she released it, trapping in him the darkness of her bosom again as she pulled her robe back up.

As she walked, she hummed a tune to herself, occasionally giggling as she felt the king squirm against her. Having fallen into this situation was giving Meghan thoughts… she was sure she could fix him, with the right items of course, but she was wondering if it would be a good idea to do it right away…

Albert was a handsome fellow, cute really, and with the state of the Baldanian kingdom being… well, to be blunt she wouldn’t even call it a kingdom at all at this point, just a few fools in a castle clinging to the notion, but the important thing was this was a king who was probably free to court a commoner… say his court wizard? Yes, that would be grand, a sorcerer-queen, just the thing this realm would need to whip it into shape. And Albert? She’d dangle that growth potion in front of him, oh yes, he’d be her little pet king, and that potion could take so long to brew, and so difficult… By the time she finally got around to giving it to him, he’d be perfectly obedient to her every whim.

She grinned, yes, it would be good to be the queen. The kingdom had some very dangerous problems, to be sure, but she’d give them her best shot. If all else failed, she could always tuck her little prize away in her travel bag and flee across the border, someone else could save the world while her tiny toy rubbed her feet in a comfy inn somewhere.

She opened the door to the tower and, with a quick look around, reached into her robes to pull the king out again. He gasped at the fresh air, and she laughed again, curling her fingers around him. She was a fairly small woman, and a part of her relished being able to overpower a young man like this, particularly such a pretty one…

“Where’s the gold?” She asked.

“Just a moment,” Albert looked to the edge of the room, and sighed with relief when he saw the balcony doors were open. He shot one last glance up at Meghan, then took a deep breath, “CYRENE!” He shouted as loud as he could, “HELP! HELP ME-“

Meghan’s thumb casually came up and covered his whole face, muting his screams, and she couldn’t help but laugh again at how easily her thumb overpowered him.

“Who do you think is going to hear you at that size?” She mocked. “I can barely hear you when I’m holding you in my hand!”

There was a thump from behind her, and a series of red feathers drifted to the ground in front of the stunned mage.

“Harpies have excellent hearing and eyesight,” a female voice said ominously. “Helps us catch small prey from very high up…”

Meghan whipped around, sparks crackling around her fingertips, but the harpy’s talon slammed her into the ground, splintering the wood around the stunned magician. Albert screamed as he was thrown into the air, but the harpy’s eyes instantly tracked him, snatching him in a clawed hand with ease. She stopped herself from reflexively popping him into her mouth like he was a flying insect, giggling slightly at the notion as she focused on the human squirming in her grip.

“Albert?” She breathed, “y-you’re-“

“Tiny, I know,” said. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the harpy’s kind smile.

“I don’t know what king-stuff you were doing Albert,” she said chidingly, “but this doesn’t look very relaxing at all.”

“No,” he laughed in spite of himself, “it’s been very stressful.”

She gave him a sympathetic look, then she slowly lifted him up to that wild red hair. She tucked him in amongst it, smoothing it and brushing it around him slightly, doing her best to tighten the red forest around him and hold him in place.

He settled in, letting that surprisingly soft and silky mane flow around him, enveloping him like a flowing river as he leaned against her scalp. That earthy mountain-air smell filled his nostrils, surrounding him and soothing him. He felt a little ridiculous, poking his head out of the harpy’s matted hair like a chick poking it’s head out of a nest, but he also felt warm, secure, and maybe more importantly, given his naked state, covered. He hugged the hair tightly as she tilted her head, managing to stay in his comfortable perch as the pair of them regarded the mage trapped beneath the harpy’s talons.

“So, magic-girl,” Cyrene began casually, “do you want to tell me why my friend is the size of a tasty little chipmunk?”

“P-Potion,” Meghan managed. The harpy eased up on her, allowing her to breathe a little easier, but one of those sharp black talons hovered uncomfortably close to the girl’s neck, causing her to gulp.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Cyrene asked, tracing the claw along Meghan’s skin, she pressed enough that the girl would feel the sharpness, but not enough to break the skin.

“N-No,” Meghan said, “It was an accident! I swear!”

“Hmm…” Cyrene said, “Albert, do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I think so,” he said. His grip on the harpy’s hair tightened as he thought of what to do, “Don’t hurt her please,” he said finally, “I need her to brew an antidote to this.” He glared angrily at Meghan, causing her to cringe in fear, “And as much as I hate to admit it… we DO need a court wizard.” He felt very imposing suddenly, and it didn’t matter that he was a few inches tall, nestled in a harpy’s hair like a stray ribbon, “Meghan,” he said firmly, “There will be nothing from here on out but the strictest obedience to the crown.”

“Yeah,” Cyrene agreed, “No more funny business! And you’re going to fix Albert right away!”

“It’ll take a few days to get an antidote ready,” Meghan protested.

“That’s okay!” Cyrene said cheerfully, “I’ll take care of Albert until then, he’s so much cuter like this anyway!”

“Erm, yes,” he said, “I think I’ll be staying close to Cyrene until this matter is… resolved.”

“Oh,” Cyrene said offhandedly, lifting her leg to let the mage up, “If you try to run, you won’t get away.”

“What?” Meghan asked fearfully, rubbing her throat.

“You won’t get away,” Cyrene said casually. She stepped back on those talons, the sharp points clicking on the floor as she gave Meghan space. “I can fly faster than any horse, and I can count the hairs on a rabbit’s ears from half a mile up.” She shrugged, spreading her feathery wings out in an exaggerated gesture, “You ever see a hawk catch a rabbit?”

“Yeah?” Meghan said nervously, rising to her feet.

“Well,” Cyrene chuckled, scratching the floor with a rugged *skritch* “let’s just say you’re the rabbit.” She laughed at Meghan’s fearful expression, “Don’t worry though! So long as you do what King Albert wants, we can be really good friends!”

“Looking forward to it,” Meghan gulped, “I’ll uh, just go get started on the potion…” She scurried to the door, slamming it as she ran.

Cyrene reached up to her head, plucking Albert from the comfortable nest of her red hair. He shivered as she lowered him down to her face, looking longingly at the perch.

“Aw,” she cooed, “is someone cold?” She giggled at his reaction, “you can go back in a minute… I want to talk a bit.”

“Uh, sure,” he said. It wasn’t like he had a choice really; the harpy literally held his life in the palm of her hand.

“Albert,” she began, tilting her head slightly, “I didn’t really want to stick my beak in your king-stuff, but…” she bit her lip, as if searching for the words, “I really like you,” she said finally, “you might be my favorite human I’ve ever met. You let me share the tower with you, you even sleep in the nest with me and you come back at night without being caught or chased down or anything!”

“I like you too Cyrene,” he said awkwardly, “but I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I’m just worried you’re going to get hurt,” she said, “so… this isn’t normally something harpies do, but… I really think I’m going to start going with you to your king-stuff, and maybe helping you out with it.”

“I uh… don’t know what to say,” he said. The truth was he honestly felt an immense wave of relief. Cyrene seemed like a genuine friend, and whatever he would deal with in the coming days… surely it would be easier with an eight-foot monster capable of tearing a man to pieces on his side. He collapsed backward onto the harpy’s palm, she smiled and twirled one of her clawed fingertips through his hair.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, “I got you one of those bells! The farmer was pretty mad, but he was too slow to stop me.”

“Thanks Cyrene,” he laughed.

“You can’t really ring it at this size,” she mused, “but don’t feel too sad, I have another idea to help cheer you up.” She leered down at his naked body and licked her lips. She brought her other arm up over him, the soft curtain of her feathers hanging down like a lush crimson waterfall, shining as she slowly traced them over him.

The sensation caused him to shiver, his body tingling as that wall of feathers passed over him. He was bathed in her fresh alpine scent, and he took a sharp breath as the feathers finished brushing him as quickly as they’d come.

“Feels good right?” Cyrene said softly, “harpy feathers are exceptionally soft and silky… they feel so good that some humans think they might be magical.” She shrugged as she began moving her wing across him again, causing another wave of ecstasy and sensation as the feathers traced across his body.

“Are they magical?” She whispered, “I don’t know… wouldn’t that be cool? If I had a magic power?” She giggled as the feathers left him again, dusting over his entire body and tantalizing every nerve. He was rock hard when the feathers passed over him the third time, and the fourth time he spasmed and arched his back, almost rolling in her hand.

“You better not spray your seed on those feathers,” she laughed, “if you do, you’re cleaning it all out!”

He tried to reply, but the wing passed over him again, and he gritted his teeth as the soft feathers seemed to cradle his body, brushing through every hidden place and deeper still. He squirmed to either side, those strong fingers holding him in place while the harpy continued to run her silky-soft feathers over him, in a simple wave pattern, and then in a circular pattern that left him closing his eyes and groaning involuntarily.

The wing lifted up suddenly, and he opened his eyes in shock to see Cyrene’s giant face coming down towards him. She winked, and then a tongue as big as he was snaked out of her mouth, the soft wet appendage going right between his legs and licking his aching manhood. This was the beginning of the end, she’d teased him to the very brink with her feathers, and now, with a tongue that could easily crush the life from him if she’d wanted, she was going to push him over.

He sighed, his head lolling back in her hand as he sprayed the pink wall that had descended to complete his torment. The bliss seemed to last forever, and he finally felt his body go limp, completely exhausted and defeated by the simple flick of a few feathers and a single lick.

Cyrene leaned back up, withdrawing her tongue and his spent seed. Looking down at him she smiled and gave an exaggerated swallow, tracing a single clawed finger down her throat as she groaned lustily.

“That was a nice little treat,” she said, licking her lips one final time, “I’ll have to get a larger serving once we have your size fixed.”

She brought his limp form back up to her flowing hair, gently placing him back in the comfortable confines of her crimson mane. He lay on his stomach, allowing himself to grow tangled in it, letting the strands wrap and warm him. Cyrene giggled, patting him and gently pushing him into place so he’d stay.

It occurred to him that, perhaps being king wasn’t so bad after all.

…

The royal throne of Baldania was sized for a large man, most of the previous monarchs having taken it by force. For Cyrene, it was just barely big enough, and she crossed her avian legs as she shifted uncomfortably. Albert’s head poked out of her hair, well aware of how ridiculous he looked as he surveyed the throne room. Per his orders Sines, Meghan, and his two knights were present.

“Your majesty,” Sines said, rubbing his hands, “Perhaps we should put royal affairs on hold until your condition is-“

“Stuff it!” he shouted, not so much from anger as necessity, it was hard to be heard at this size. “Listen up, there are going to be some changes around here. First off, those two!” his arm darted out of the crimson forest, “no more following me around!”

“I suppose that could be arranged,” Sines said grudgingly, “If your majesty could refrain from attempting to… abdicate.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a grin, “I’m not going anywhere! Now, let’s get down to business, we’ve got a bandit invasion, an undead army, and an economic collapse to deal with, but it’s going to be all right!”

“Oh good,” Meghan said with relief, “I thought we were going to have to deal with all that.”

He scowled, “It’s going to be all right because we ARE going to deal with it!”

“That’s right!” Cyrene said with a smile, “I mean come on, we’re all smart people right? We’ll figure it out!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Albert said with as much confidence as he could muster, “we might have hit rock bottom, but this kingdom has nowhere to go but up!”

Albert woke up, but didn’t open his eyes. He was warm, and covered by the soft strands of what he knew was red hair. He turned over contentedly, letting a curl of it tangle around him as he buried his face in it. He breathed in deeply, enjoying Cyrene’s crisp alpine scent as it coated him.

He heard a yawn underneath him, and realized his movement across the top of her scalp must have awoken her. A massive clawed hand appeared above him, and he watched it lazily as it picked through her hair, looking for him. One finger brushed past him, and he turned over, watching it go. The movement instantly alerted that hand to his position, and with a sudden burst of movement it snatched him up, drawing him out of the nest of her crimson hair like a bird of prey catching a fleeing rabbit.

He was about to wish her good morning, but the hand drifted lower, past a pair of still closed eyes obscured by her bangs. Cyrene was shifting slightly, groaning as she slowly woke up. Albert’s eyes went wide as he suddenly rocketed towards her mouth, her lips parting to accept him like the bite sized morsel he was.

Cyrene loved simply lying in bed on a lazy day after waking, and this new nest she’d build in the tower’s keep was always so nice and warm. She’d felt something squirming around, and reflexively tossed it into her mouth. She prodded it with her tongue and frowned, not recognizing the taste, not a tasty mouse or chipmunk… and it didn’t have any fur?

Her eyes shot open, and a moment later she spat Albert out in a panic. The king panted in her palms, looking up at her in terror as her saliva dripped off him.

“Albert!” she said eagerly, “I’m so sorry! It’s just, usually when something is scurrying around the nest… well, there’s breakfast. Instinct, you know?”

“I-I’m fine,” he muttered, shivering as the air cooled the spit covering his body. She did her best to wipe him off, blushing as she did so.

“Should we go wake Meghan up?” Cyrene asked.

“Might as well,” he said with a sigh. “Do you have those clothes?”

“Oh yeah!” Cyrene said with a smile.

She glanced to the far end of the nest, where the harpy’s own clothes were piled haphazardly. Most of them were things she appeared to have fashioned herself, or perhaps taken off clotheslines and torn to fit her massive frame. Next to Cyrene’s clothing were a few small dolls, things that the knights had hauled out of the kingdom’s storage and which had likely belonged to some prince or princess long before he had been crowned.

The harpy walked over and picked up one of the dolls, holding it up to him as a comparison. The princess doll in the flowing pink gown was about a head taller than he was, made of porcelain, and expertly painted.

“What do you think of this one?” Cyrene asked cheerfully.

“Uh…” he looked over at the doll, “That one’s more for… female humans.”

Cyrene squinted at it a moment and then chuckled, “Well, she’d have a hard time flying or fighting in THAT!” She placed the princess doll back down, “I just thought the color looked nice,” she mused, picking up a more princely looking doll in a blue coat. “How about this one?”

“Perfect!” he said, standing up in her palm. He walked over and began pulling the clothing off the doll, donning the outfit and doing his best to ignore the coarse fabric. “How do I look?”

“Adorable!” Cyrene said with a smile. “Now, let’s get that wizard!”

She lifted him back up to her head, gently sliding him into the waiting perch of her hair, which he gripped to steady himself as she leaned over the side of the nest. Lifting the now stripped doll in her hand, she aimed, and then with a mischievous smile, dropped it.

Meghan felt something hit her head with a *thunk* and shot awake, “Wha-?” lightning danced on her fingers as she surveyed the room. She scowled as she heard a pair of giggles from above. Slowly she looked up at the nest in the rafters and scowled.

“It’s bad enough you two are keeping me prisoner up here!” She snapped, “you don’t need to wake me up by throwing things at me!”

“Dropping things on you,” Cyrene corrected, “If I’d thrown it, it would have hurt a lot more.”

“Also, you’re not a prisoner!” Albert called with a grin, poking out of Cyrene’s hair, “you’re a court wizard under a very restrictive contract!”

Meghan threw back the scratchy wool blanket that had been spared for her, it looked out of place on the spacious royal four poster bed, but the nicer bedding had all been torn to pieces long ago to line Cyrene’s nest. Attached to Meghan’s leg was a cast iron shackle, with a heavy chain that led to a massive iron ball.

With an angry look up at the two of them, she pointed at the chain and weight, “and what about this!?”

“I thought it was silly,” Cyrene said with a smile, “I wanted to keep you up here in the nest with us.”

Meghan swallowed, looking up at the harpy’s somewhat predatory grin, “the ball and chain is perfectly fair, I’m uh, sure once you trust me more, you’ll agree it’s not necessary!”

“Fat chance,” Albert muttered.

…

Albert was quickly finding he preferred holding court from the top of Cyrene’s head. It was probably something he wouldn’t be able to do as the court expanded of course, it made him look dreadfully silly he was sure, but he didn’t have any illusions that Sines, Meghan, or his two guards respected him anyways. That was fine, he really needed their obedience more than their loyalty at this point.

Cyrene seemed to enjoy the arrangement too, giggling slightly as he struggled to stay standing upright amidst her tangles of red hair. She shifted as she sat on the royal throne, nearly causing him to stumble over as his four “loyal” subjects filed in.

“All right,” he began, “status updates, Meghan, when will I be big enough to sit on my own throne again?”

“Pretty soon,” the mage began, “I’ve been in contact with a merchant in town who says the final ingredient I need, red moss, is being sold just a few miles away in Almsdale.” She glanced at the two knights, “If you won’t let me go pick it up myself, one of these two could do it.”

“Oh,” Sines said uncomfortably, “Well, your grace, we might not be able to reach Almsdale for some time.”

“What?” He exclaimed, “It’s not even a day’s walk from the castle town! You can see it from the ramparts even!”

Sines bit his lip, “Perhaps we should go up there and… see it?”

…

Albert gripped Cyrene’s hair tightly, his knuckles becoming white as he looked over the battlements of his castle. Almsdale could be seen in the rolling hills that led up to far away mountains. It wasn’t an impressive town, his eyes had slid over it a dozen times before, both before and after becoming king, but today the encampment of bandits around it made it draw his gaze like a magnet.

“As you can see, Brodda, the bandit leader, must have heard we are relatively defenseless,” Sines said weakly.

“Hmm…” Cyrene mused, “That’s a lot of humans Albert, and they put their tents all in those nice little rows, that usually means humans with guns who know how to use them.” She turned to the other four and grinned cheerfully, “It’s been really nice meeting you, and I’m going to miss having the tower nest, but I’m going to take Albert and fly back up to the mountains now, bye!”

“Wait!” he shouted as Cyrene spread her wings. She paused, folding her forewing back behind her hands as she listened.

“Can I come to the mountains too?” Meghan asked eagerly, “I don’t want to be in town when those guys take it-“

“Y-Your majesty!” Sines said in a panic. “You can’t just abandon the kingdom in its hour of need!”

“Well settle down, all of you, because I’m not,” the tiny man snapped. “This is actually a huge opportunity!” He pointed out to the encampment, “we need an army, and that’s an army right over there!”

“An enemy army,” Meghan muttered.

“Look,” Albert began, “these are bandits, desperate men. We had a big guy who kept robbing people on their way out of the mill once, Bernie, and finally the miller caught him one day and we offered him steady work instead of a trip to the town jail. He’s still working there today.”

“Your majesty,” Sines began, “while that surely holds true for some of them, do you really think they’ll simply join you if asked-“

“The thing about Bernie,” Albert said, continuing, “is that when the miller first caught him, three of us lads ran out with big sticks, and we beat the tar out of him first. It put him in a mood to reflect on things.”

“So, you want to beat up all those guys?” Cyrene asked, “I mean… it could take a long time with just the five of us, do humans do that orcish thing where they’ll let you fight them one at a time?”

“We don’t need to get them all,” Albert said, “If we can convince the leader to join up with us, the rest will follow. We just need to get him away from the others and apply a little… pressure.” He turned to the two knights, “I don’t suppose either of you studied under elven rangers, or assassins, or anything like that?”

One of the men chuckled, “your majesty, no offense, but if I studied under an elven ranger, do you think I’d be working here?”

“I’d just fly in and grab him,” Cyrene said, “but guns and harpies don’t mix, we don’t like getting shot.”

“Are there people who do?” Meghan asked, crossing her arms.

“Orcs,” Cyrene said casually, “they seem to think it’s fun.”

“Man,” Meghan said with a chuckle, “this whole thing would be solved if we had one of those around…”

Albert frowned, shifting on top of the harpy’s head he looked over to her, “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” the mage said, an embarrassed grin on her face, “you guys are going to think this is HILARIOUS, so you know that potion that accidentally made you…” she just pointed to his minute form.

“Yes?” he said, eyes narrowing.

“I did a little research to find out what went wrong. The potion was a recipe created by the dark wizard Almarec,” she explained, “a few centuries back when he tried to conquer the world.” She shrugged, “I was kind of wondering why nobody had ever used it up until now, I mean expanded power and invincibility sounds pretty neat right?”

“Right,” Albert said, frustration rising.

“Well,” Meghan laughed, “as it turns out, it was only ever meant for monsters and beastfolk! He used it to create his most powerful creatures, he never used it on humans!”

“Wow we know why,” Albert muttered angrily.

“Pretty much all of his magic is forbidden,” Meghan said, “very chaotic, unpredictable… I actually ripped the potion recipe out of one of his old tomes while I was… leaving the academy in a hurry.”

“You brewed that thing and let me drink it without even reading the rest of the page the instructions were written on?” He asked with a hiss.

“Look,” Meghan said, holding her hands up, “we both made mistakes there, but the important thing is, now we know the potion is ONLY for the creatures that flocked to the dark lord’s banner way back when.”

“Oh, like harpies!” Cyrene said excitedly, “we all hear the tale as chicks! Of Almarec the matchmaker, who promised us all the men we could want if we joined his armies!”

“That’s certainly an… alternative interpretation of the Dark Lord’s depredations,” Sines said.

“Wait a minute…” Albert said, thinking, “Meghan, do you still have the rest of that potion?”

…

Meghan held him in her clammy hands as his other three subjects stood back. Cyrene was regarding the potion curiously, sniffing it. Albert’s mouth was a thin line, this was a move of desperation, and although it had been his idea, seeing Cyrene with the mixture that had reduced him to inches tall made him suddenly nervous. It struck him very suddenly that Cyrene might be his only true friend in the world. She gave him a smile, and he sighed inwardly.

“Cyrene,” he said, quiet as he could while still being heard, “I’ve changed my mind, we aren’t going to do this.”

The harpy frowned, looking down at him, “Why not?” She asked, “it seems like the only option.”

“We could…” He sighed, “If it means losing you… maybe I’d rather just take you up on that offer to fly off into the mountains.”

“And me too!” Meghan said eagerly, “seriously, he’s tiny, you could carry both of us!”

Cyrene looked at the potion and frowned, “It’s really nice that you care about me Albert, I never thought a human would…” With one last grin at the two of them she downed the potion in a few gulps.

Her eyes shot open, her pupils dilating wide, “Wow,” she said excitedly, “this stuff feels great!”

“That’s a good sign,” Meghan said, stepping back as sparks danced along the harpy’s wings.

There was a sound of ripping cloth, and Albert blinked in shock as the harpy’s features began to expand before him. She groaned in pleasure, sighing as the woven top she wore tore away, splitting and falling to the ground like a leaf and exposing her pert breasts to the morning air. The loincloth tore away next, the laces holding it up making a twanging sound as they flew apart, revealing the red forest of her hair.

“O-Oh my,” Sines muttered, watching as the harpy’s height passed the top of the castle wall, then climbed higher still.

“YEAH!” Cyrene laughed, billowing her wings and causing a gust that almost blew Albert straight out of Meghan’s hands, “This is amazing!”

“She’s taller than the castle,” one of the knights said fearfully.

It was true, Cyrene easily stood at least a hundred twenty feet, with a wingspan that blocked out the sun when she spread her arms wide.

Albert watched; mouth open in awe. Cyrene seemed to notice the humans at her feet, and with a giggle knelt down to them. For the full-sized members of the court it was intimidating enough, but for him it was like watching a mountain approach him. That face, which had already been so much larger than he, was now its own landscape, a planetary surface almost hovering overhead. Even her breath alone could be felt for him, like a wind current threatening to suck him away, the merest movement of her body whipped his hair about.

“Albert?” She said, her voice echoing like thunder. Those massive blue eyes honed in on him, making him gulp as they focused, “You’re so teeny tiny!” she laughed, her voice booming overhead.

“IT WORKED!” Meghan said, jumping with excitement. Albert was startled, and he barely managed to stay in the mage’s hands. “I knew I didn’t mess up the potion! It was just the application that was wrong!”

“I daresay the odds have just shifted in our favor,” Sines said, his mouth agape.

…

Morwen hefted her sword in front of her, pacing the bandit camp’s makeshift arena as she waited for the three cowardly boys to attack her. With a shout the braver one charged her, and she casually parried his strike, slapping him across the back of the head as he tumbled by her.

“Too slow!” she shouted angrily, “you’d be dead if this wasn’t sparring!”

The other two ran at her, and she met the charge with a sweep of her leg. The other hesitated, and her sword darted out and quickly knocked his clean out of his hand. With a disappointed grunt, Morwen slid her sword into her scabbard, leaning down to help the boy up.

“You backed off when you should have struck at me,” she growled, “and now you’re both dead too.”

“S-Sorry Morwen,” one of them said, “b-but do we really need to practice swordplay so much? We’ve got the guns now and-“

“And the best man here can fire a shot every thirty seconds,” she growled, “a lot can happen in thirty seconds.”

With a scowl she walked away, idly scanning the camp for her next victims. A part of her felt a sense of satisfaction as the men seemed to scurry out of her way, but also of frustration. This was no proper force, even for bandits. Most of these men had never fought anything but their own friends after too many drinks. That the royal army had been foolish enough to abandon their firearms had been a massive boon, and although she’d wanted the men to continue working with their blades, she couldn’t help but feel a certain fascination with them herself. A large rifled gun was slung across her back now, and she’d found enough of the principles of archery translated to make her a deadly markswoman.

The guns were certainly nice, but Morwen had business with the real glue that was holding the rag tag army of bandits together, her brother.

“Brodda,” she said, entering his large command tent, “I want to know what your intentions are?”

Her brother looked up from the map he was studying and glanced over her. With her dark brown hair slick with sweat, and patches of dirt on her arms and face, it was obvious what she’d been doing.

“Beating up the recruits again?” He asked, turning back to the map.

“If they take enough beatings from me, maybe they’ll live through a real fight,” she snapped.

Brodda gave her one of his smug grins, “Not everyone here had an older brother to show them the ropes of swordplay.”

“Then maybe you could show some of your loyal followers those ropes?” She asked, crossing her arms. “None of them will do much for me, but if you told them to, they’d all line up and start drilling.

Brodda considered it, stroking that square jaw of his. He was a broad-shouldered burly type, the very sort of man that came to mind when one thought “bandit.” He shrugged finally, the smugness going away as he regarded his sister.

“I don’t see the point,” he replied, “By the end of the day tomorrow we’ll have taken the capital, or the cluster of hovels that passes for one anyway. After that? I think our force will scatter to the winds. We’ve got a few right bastards with us, every group this size does, but most of these men want to grab something to bring back to their wives and children, maybe something that will help them get through the winter or that they can bribe a border guard with.” He growled as he looked at the map, “we’re going too, Morwen.”

She frowned, “you’re just going to abandon the men who flocked to you?”

“There is an army of the undead heading for this kingdom,” he explained, “this entire realm is a sinking ship Morwen, all we can really do is try to help the people who followed us onto a lifeboat… and look out for ourselves of course.”

“The kingdom might have a fighting chance if Brodda the Beast would lead an army against the lich,” Morwen said angrily. “You could BE king if you wanted!”

He just laughed uproariously, “that bag of bones Chancellor Sines would have to send his men out to drag me to the throne if he wanted that!” He sighed, the laughter and smile fading, “I’ll do right by everyone that came this far with me, or as right as I can, but after that? Me and you Morwen, like always.” He looked wistfully at nothing a moment, “maybe we could settle somewhere with the money from plundering the capital… how do you feel about the ocean? I’d like to see it.”

Before she could answer a panicked man ran into the tent, “C-Captain!” he panted, “y-you’ve got to come quick!”

Brodda frowned, following the man out of the tent. He gave Morwen a quick gesture to follow him, which she obliged. If there was trouble, he’d want her close at hand, not for fear of losing her mind, but because when the two fought she was the hammer to his anvil, and always had been.

They quickly reached the edge of the camp, where dozens of confused men had gathered. Off in the distance, across the rolling green hills in the direction of the capital, a single scout ran, waving his hands in a panic. Brodda frowned, taking a spyglass from a running aide and unfurling it to take a look.

“HARPY!” the man shouted in the distance.

Brodda snorted, “A harpy?” He lowered the spyglass and glanced up at the clouds briefly, wondering where the man’s pursuer was. “Odd for them to fly this far from the mountains, but she probably just wants a roll in the hay with the poor boy.” He sighed, “Someone load up a musket, one shot and most harpies will scatter like-“

The men cried out in horror as a massive shape blotted out the sun, then dove for the running scout. Talons the size of an oxcart opened wide, snatching up the scout as though he were a fleeing mouse before a diving falcon. With the same terrible speed, a pair of immense shimmering red wings flapped once, and the thing was climbing into the sky once more.

There was a moment of shocked silence through the camp, then Brodda shouted, “TO ARMS!”

Bells clanged throughout the camp as men scattered, grabbing and loading their guns as quickly as they could.

…

One of the things that Albert had grown accustomed to in the days since shrinking was just how overwhelming to his senses other people could be. When he was seated in Cyrene’s hair at her normal size he would often be bathed in her earthy alpine scent. Now, at her giant size, her hair was a true forest to him. The flowing strands towered over his tiny size like some long-forgotten jungle. The harpy’s essence almost seemed to cloud his head, giving him a dreamy feeling even as the wind billowed around them.

“HOW ARE YOU SO CALM!?” Meghan screamed over the rushing wind.

The mage had him tightly gripped in her hand, her arms wrapped around a clump of Cyrene’s hair. Another loch was tied around her waist like a lifeline, something she’d insisted Cyrene do before agreeing to this in the first place.

“We’re going to be fine!” he shouted back. His stomach dropped as the harpy climbed overhead, and as she banked to her right, he gazed down at the bandit encampment. He gulped as he saw the view.

Cyrene laughed to herself at the human scout squirming in her talons. He wasn’t hurt, she’d been quite sure of that, but from the way he struggled in her grip he was terrified. She bit her lip as she flapped her wings, circling the camp below. It was mean, but she really wanted to have some fun.

“Oop!” she laughed, dropping the screaming scout.

He flailed in the air, terrified shrieks following him as she dove after her “released” prey. The scout’s panic grew as he saw her immense smiling mouth coming towards him. He was caught out of the air, and a tongue twice as large as he was scooped him up and began wrestling with him, easily pinning him into the harpy’s cheek. A low giggle rumbled from the dark abyss of her throat, and the scout almost fainted.

“P-Please!” He cried, “don’t eat me!”

The harpy’s mouth opened, letting the light shine in. The scout was propelled forward with immense force, her sticky saliva clinging to him as he plopped into her hand. He almost wept for joy, seeing that, even though he was this monster’s prisoner, she was standing on solid ground. Cyrene laughed at his reaction, and teasingly licked her lips, causing him to cower.

“It’s so much fun being this big!” she said, smiling wide as she peered at the bandit camp a few hundred yards away. “I do wonder what I’m going to eat at this size…” She gripped the scout’s pantleg, pinching it between her sharp claws as she lifted him, dangling him over her. She tilted her head back, causing Meghan to squeal with fright as she hugged Cyrene’s hair tighter. “You did taste pretty good,” Cyrene mused, “maybe I should eat… humans?”

“No!” the scout pleaded, “P-Please!”

“Well,” Cyrene said, “you’re kind of a scrawny one anyway. I could let you go, if you told me which one of those guys over there,” she jerked a thumb at the bandit encampment, “is your leader. Maybe I could get a human to eat with a little more meat on him?”

“Brodda!” The scout said quickly, “burly guy, brown hair, down to his neck, he’ll be shouting orders!”

Cyrene squinted at the camp, her keen avian eyes easily picking out the details of the men, even at this distance, “Does he have a scar on his cheek?” Cyrene asked.

“That’s him!” the scout said.

“Okay,” Cyrene said, kneeling down. She lowered the scout down to the grassy hill and smiled, “Sorry about that, but Albert says I should scare you guys a little.”

“A-Albert?” The scout asked, “Who’s Albert?”

“The king!” The giant harpy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“H-he sounds great!” the scout said, a weak smile coming over his face, “All hail king Albert!”

“Wow!” Cyrene said excitedly, “his plan is working already!”

Those massive wings flapped, causing a gale that nearly knocked the scout over as she took off again.

…

“HERE SHE COMES!” Brodda yelled, leveling his musket as the titanic harpy bore down on their camp. “FIRE!” he shouted. Thunder bellowed as the hammers of their flintlocks sparked, and nearly a thousand men fired a volley into the monster.

“That tickles!” she giggled, shaking the earth as she landed in front of them.

The men panicked, scattering as they looked up into that amused face with fear.

“HOLD YOUR RANKS!” Morwen shouted, drawing her sword, “If you break, she’ll pick you off and gobble you up one by one!” Her own mouth was dry as she watched those massive avian talons take a step forward. Another round of musket fire echoed as the men held the line, and the harpy just giggled again, the lead pellets bouncing harmlessly off her thick feathers and skin.

“You guys!” she laughed, “Stop that!”

The talon lifted over them.

…

Meghan had reluctantly crawled to the edge of Cyrene’s head, holding Albert over the side so he could observe the “battle.”

“Remember!” he shouted, “Don’t kill anyone! We want these men to fight for us later! Just frighten them!”

Cyrene just laughed, causing whimpers of terror in the panicked mob below. Most harpies desired humans in a carnal sense, but generally didn’t care much for them, save for the few they kidnapped to start families with. Cyrene was a bit different; she’d always liked living close to human settlements, watching them scurry about doing the most interesting things, and she’d been delighted when Albert had confirmed that a human really could be your friend if you tried. 

Still, Cyrene was a harpy, and instinct ran deep. Harpies would describe themselves as playful, people unfortunate enough to live near large groups of them would prefer the term mischievous when being charitable, and maybe sadistic if they weren’t. Cyrene wouldn’t kill any of them, or even hurt them really, but she’d definitely enjoy toying with them.

“Now who should I pick for my next snack?” She teased, hovering her talon over the men. She flexed it slightly, then brushed it down into a crowd of soldiers, causing them to tumble over like dominos with the slightest flick of her foot.

“Oops,” she laughed. A few more stray shots bounced harmlessly off her cheeks, feeling almost like the pricks of a pine branch. Hovering her face over the humans pursed her lips, repeating an action she used to do to anthills in her youth. With a smile spat downward as hard as she could, watching it crash into the human line like a cannonball. A group of humans were drenched and knocked over, squirming on the ground in the puddle of her saliva.

“Cyrene!” Albert shouted as loud as he could, “I think they’ve got the message! Get the leader!”

She frowned, wanting to continue playing, “Well, you’re the king,” she said with a shrug.

Her talon lifted from the midst of the humans again, knocking another group aside as she reached for the burly man running and shouting orders.

“Try another volley!” Brodda shouted, waving his sword and running between the men, “Hold the line damn you-“

The talon snatched him off the ground easily, plucking him from the midst of his men before he even realized he was being hunted. He screamed, trying to slash at the scaly avian legs of the harpy, but from the way his sword impotently bounced off, they had to be as hard as steel.

“Brodda!” Morwen shouted, her eyes going wide.

The harpy was beginning to lift off again. She looked around in a panic, she couldn’t let that monster take her brother! There was a panicked horse, torn free from a hitching post, screeching and running around. With a grimace she reached out, grabbing the beast’s reins, calming it with a stern command as she climbed into the saddle. Digging her heels into the horse’s sides she took off after the enormous harpy.

…

Albert felt odd, standing in grass that was nearly as tall as he was. They’d flown maybe a mile away from the bandit camp, settling in on a hillside. Cyrene had reached into her hair and retrieved Meghan, who, still holding him, had immediately run for the bushes to puke. She’d had the decency to put him down, but now he was sighing, waiting for his court mage to finish.

“S-Sorry,” she moaned, standing up and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, “I don’t think that flying stuff is for me.”

She leaned over to pick him back up, and the two of them walked back to Cyrene, who held the swearing and struggling bandit leader trapped in her talons. The harpy’s toes were like a prison, holding him, squeezing him just enough that he couldn’t get free.

“So, you’re the famous Brodda,” Albert said. He struck a triumphant pose, well, as much as you could when a girl was carrying you in her hands.

“Yes, and who the hell are you?” he spat.

“I am King Albert the first, of Baldania,” he said imperiously.

Brodd stared a moment, “the new king is a gnome?”

Albert blinked, “No, I’m… gnomes don’t look like this!”

“Pixy maybe?” Brodda asked, eyes narrowing. “I don’t really know much about smallfolk-“

“I’m human!” he snapped, stamping his feet. Meghan giggled, which undercut the gesture even more, and he scowled. “My stature is temporarily… like this, due to…” he thought a moment, “royal plans beyond the comprehension of a mere bandit.”

“That right,” Brodda said, raising an eyebrow. Cyrene squeezed her talons around him once, causing him to wheeze before she relaxed them again, “Well,” the bandit grunted, “I guess I can’t argue with results.”

“Indeed,” Albert said, shooting a smiling glance up at Cyrene, who winked back down at him. “Now, I have this idea,” he began, “I was rather impressed by your men, they held even in the face of certain death, their loyalty to you and courage is admirable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brodda muttered, “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting them all sent home so they don’t have to see me hang?”

“On the contrary,” He said with a smile, “I’m thinking that the kingdom needs men like that, and it needs a general to lead them.”

Brodda’s eyes went wide, then he laughed, “I refuse, go lead your toy soldiers yourself your majesty-“

“AHHHHH!” a female battle cry rang out. From the bushes a brunette woman sprung with a sword in hand, dashing towards them. She had a wild fury in her eyes, with tanned skin and arms and legs that told a tale of hours swinging a weapon.

“Behold!” Meghan shouted, making a gesture towards the charging woman, “the wrath of Meghan the mage!”

An impressive bolt of lightning sparked out of Meghan’s hands, impacting the woman with a thud as though it was two pieces of wood striking. The woman’s leather armor was blown straight off, staggering her and leaving her top half bare. Beneath a pair of impressive breasts, stitched scars crisscrossed across her body. With a growl she kept coming at Meghan, the smoldering remains of her armor singing the grass behind her.

“Oh shit,” Meghan muttered. The woman raised a sword and Meghan held Albert out to her in a panic, “take him! He’s the king! I’m just a servant!”

“Meghan!” Albert shouted angrily, but with a scowl the woman was already reaching for him, grimy fingers with dirt caked under the nails wrapped around him. He grunted as the warrior woman squeezed him tight, holding him up to the harpy.

“Is this your king!?” She snarled.

Cyrene froze, shifting from side to side and fluttering her wings nervously, “Let him go!” she warned, “or I’ll pulp this guy!”

“So, he is the king then!” The woman called, “I’m Morwen, and that there is my brother in your talons. Now listen up, you let him go and MAYBE I let his majesty go!”

“Meghan!” he rasped, “Zap her again!”

“Umm…” Megan looked up at the other woman, for a moment sparks danced on her fingers, and she shakily raised a hand.

“Wizard,” Morwen spat, “I’ve been taken apart and put back together more than enough times by your kind,” with her sword hand she gestured to the scars that crisscrossed her body, “your little experiments worked too well I fear, your mightiest magics are nothing more than bee stings to me.” She grinned savagely, “although if you throw another bolt at me… as I said, wizards took me apart, I wouldn’t mind a chance to return the favor.”

“Eeep!” Meghan squealed, “I defect! I’m joining the bandits!”

“Good girl,” Morwen laughed. Albert just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“M-Morwen,” Albert gasped as the dirty fingers coiled around him, tightening like massive snakes, “Your brother and I were just working out a deal!”

“A deal?” She laughed, looking up at the harpy again, “The deal is that Brodda and I walk out of here, with you as insurance!” She defiantly looked up at Cyrene’s angry gaze, “and then the big chicken here can bring us some gold for ransom!”

Cyrene’s talon shot up, and Morwen’s eyes went wide with fear as Brodda was tossed, screaming, into the air. Cyrene’s clawed hand came around and caught him just as he began to fall again, bringing the bandit leader up to her face. Brodda felt the harpy’s hot breath wash over him, and he shouted in fear again as that massive mouth opened.

“Mmmmm…” Cyrene groaned with faux pleasure as she ran a tongue up his side. “He’s sooooo tasty!” she teased.

Morwen went white, “I-If you do that I’ll…”

She looked at Albert, then back up to the harpy. With a growl she lifted her arm. Albert’s eyes went wide, and he shouted protests, but they went unheeded as the bandit pressed him into her armpit. He coughed and sputtered, the bristles of the low shorn hair scratching at his face as her stale sweat dripped over him and filled his mouth.

“I’ll drown your little king in my sweat harpy!” She shouted.

“You better not!” Cyrene shouted back.

With another defiant growl Morwen closed her arm against her side, sealing the squealing and protesting Albert into the sour and vinegary darkness. She let him squeal and scream a moment, feeling as though he really was about to drown in the salty tide she was giving off, then she lifted her arm, releasing him and letting he cough and sputter for air.

His hair was mussed, and he felt the grime of the brigand’s sweat soaked into all of his doll’s clothing. She smelled of earth and toil, and now he did too. What a way to go he though, almost laughing, drowned in a bandit’s sweaty armpit…

“M-Morwen!” Brodda shouted as Cyrene dangled him over her mouth again, “I’d like to talk with king Albert please!”

“Agreed!” He shouted as loud as he could, “B-Brodda and I should continue our negotiations!”

“Not until you let him go!” Morwen shouted.

“I swear if you put the king back in your disgusting armpit human, I’m treating this guy like a sunflower seed!” Cyrene said. She stomped closer to Morwen, causing the woman to back away nervously.

“Cyrene please-“ Albert started, but he was cut off as he was shoved into the sweaty pit once again, the bandits arm coming down and closing on him. He fought against her slick, muscular flesh, but it didn’t do any good, in fact it only seemed to tickle her a little.

“So that’s how it is” Cyrene said angrily.

“Morwen wait! I want to negoti-“ Brodda insisted, but like Albert he was cut off as the Harpy dropped him, catching him in her mouth. He tried to flip over, but a massive tongue seemed determined to keep him on his back, and against that wet and wriggling monstrosity he was helpless.

“Stop it!” Morwen shouted, fighting to keep her voice from cracking in panic, “I-I’ll…” She sighed, then held the dazed Albert up in front of her. With a grimace, she shoved him into her mouth.

“MMFFF” Cyrene mumbled angrily, her eyes going wide. She kept her lips pursed tightly to keep her own prisoner from escaping, but the look in her eyes communicated everything.

Albert pounded against Morwen’s tongue, “Stop this now! Brodda and I were just about to-“

Cyrene opened her mouth, letting Brodda get a look at sunlight, he hung over the side of the harpie’s lips, gasping for air as her saliva coated him.

“Morwen!” he cried, “just let the king go, we were going to-“ Cyrene pursed her lips and slurped the bandit leader back into her mouth like he was a noodle.

Morwen’s face burned red with fury, and as Cyrene looked down at her smugly, she lifted her head back, and with an exaggerated gulp, swallowed.

Albert felt himself suddenly pulled downward, saliva splashing him from all sides as the muscular tube of her throat closed around him, drawing him down with such force that he would have no chance of fighting it. He shouted and fought for air as he dropped into the wet pool of her stomach, and with horror realized that the objects floating around him in the darkness were the remains of her lunch… and he was only a snack.

Cyrene’s eyes went wide with horror, and in her surprise, she gulped reflexively, sending Brodda on the same journey Albert had taken only a moment before.

“LET ME OUT AT ONCE!” Albert shouted, pounding on the walls of Morwen’s stomach, “I-“ he stumbled in the fleshy dungeon, splashing down into a mix of water and half-digested food that came up to his neck when sitting. A primal terror began to set in for him, and he fought down a whimper.

Brodda wasn’t faring any better, though he at least had the fortune to land in an empty stomach. With a snarl he slashed at the walls with a knife he’d hidden in his boot, but the thick leather walls of a harpy’s gullet were meant for more formidable, and occasionally live prey. The blade bounced off harmlessly. It was quickly dawning on him as well that there was no escape.

“Y-You both ate them,” Meghan said, looking back and forth between the bandit and the giant harpy. “Oh gods, this is bad…”

“I-I didn’t mean to!” Cyrene said, “This is her fault!”

“My fault!?” Morwen roared, “if you’d just given me my brother-“

“Are they still alive?” Meghan asked, interrupting them.

“He’s still… moving,” Morwen said uncomfortably.

“Same here,” Cyrene said.

“Uh, well I think you both know what you need to do!” Meghan said in frustration.

“What?” Morwen asked blankly.

Meghan rolled her eyes, “Well, don’t use that bush over there, because I already puked on it.”

…

Albert lay in the grass, staring at the clouds going by in silence. Morwen’s sweat and stomach juices completely covered him, even as the giant, to him anyway, brigand stood over him in quiet embarrassment.

Brodda was laying in the grass a few feet away from him, the full-sized man in a similar state, covered in the harpy’s spit and stomach juices. Cyrene gave him shade as she loomed overhead.

Meghan sat between the two of them, uncomfortably fidgeting with her fingernails, “I think we can all agree,” she said finally, “that the uh, negotiations, went a little sideways.”

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze court wizard,” Albert said flatly, not taking his eyes off the puffy clouds overhead. “Brodda,” He began, “I propose that, in exchange for a full pardon from the crown for you, and all of your followers, you lead my armies in battle against the lich Ponteforus. I can also throw in a royal title and an estate when the matter is dealt with.”

“I accept,” Brodda said in an equally flat tone. Without moving his head his eyes glanced up at the harpy, “Truly your majesty is a wise and benevolent ruler.”

“Okay now you’re just being a kiss ass,” he laughed.

Brodda returned the laugh, “Fuck me,” he muttered, “I guess I’m on the side of angels now. With my liege’s permission, I’d like to go and clean myself up before presenting myself at your castle.”

“Granted,” he said, “I also need to… clean myself up.”

Meghan leaned down to pick up the tiny king, plucking him by the arm and holding him away from her face. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she looked at the grim coating him.

“Ugh, Al, you reek!”

“Do I?” He asked, annoyed, “I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Morwen said, biting her lip, “I was… I was just trying to help my brother, he’s all I have and-“

“Morwen,” he said, cutting her off, “It’s fine, let’s just… try to move past it.” He looked at the woman, his eyes involuntarily tracing down to her taut stomach, crisscrossed with scars. He shuddered, remembering his imprisonment.

Brodda and Morwen watched as the harpy reached down for the mage, who in turn was holding the tiny king in her hand as she was lifted to the giantess’s flowing red hair. She nestled her passengers in it before smiling down to the two former bandits.

“I’m really glad you guys decided to team up with us!” Cyrene said eagerly, “Tell everyone back at your camp I’m sorry if I scared them, we’re all on the same side now!” She flapped her wings, causing a gale that blew back their hair and made them struggle on their feet as she took off.

The two watched her fly away in silence for a moment, “Is this a wise course of action?” Morwen asked finally.

“An hour ago, you were all ‘fight the lich Brodda, fight the Lich!’ and now…” He scowled, “now I’m fighting the gods-damned lich, if anything you should be happy, you got what you wanted!”

“Are we going to hold our end of the deal?” Morwen asked nervously.

“I think he’s got me over a barrel, or rather a giant mouth,” Brodda replied, “and besides, I kind of like the little guy.”

Morwen’s face went red as she had another realization, “That tiny fellow really is going to be the king, isn’t he?” She buried her face in her hands, “I stuck the king in my armpit…”

“You didn’t stop there,” Brodda chuckled. “How did he taste?”

“Like my armpit,” She groaned. “He seems pretty forgiving right? I mean… you don’t think he’ll hold a grudge?”

“Maybe you should bring him flowers or something?” Brodda said with a shrug.

…

With the bandits pacified Cyrene had flown directly into the town square and landed triumphantly, scattering and scaring what few townspeople weren’t in hiding from the formerly impending attack. The harpy had lowered Meghan, and the mage’s tiny passenger, down to the street to search out the merchant.

“This is the guy,” Meghan said, pushing the apothecary door open, “he’s supposed to have that ingredient I need to fix you right up and… oh,” she looked around the deserted and apparently ransacked shop. Merchandise was toppled and sprawled on the floor, carts and shelves were overturned, and there was a hastily scrawled note nailed to the counter.

“In light of bandit incursion,” Albert read, “I have decided to temporarily relocate my business across the border in the Empire…” He sighed, “I’m guessing none of the stuff he left is what you need?”

“Er… no,” Meghan said quietly, glancing around. She was quiet a moment, “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“You know something?” he said, sitting down in her cupped hands, “I think… I think I’m okay with this.”

“Really?” She asked uncertainly.

“We’ll get it fixed eventually,” he sighed, “and we had some victories today, let’s not let this foul our moods.”

Meghan glanced at a nearby shelf and smiled, “Well… I do see SOMETHING you need at least…”

…

Cyrene carried them up through the mountains, the castle, town, and bandit camp vanishing below them as she flapped those massive wings, scattering clouds before them. Meghan held him close, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. Albert just looked in awe at the world beyond the silky red forest of the harpy’s hair, the houses and farms below looked like toys, so far away…

“This should do it,” Cyrene said, settling in on a rocky clifftop. “Just through here, come on!” She waded through a thick forest of trees that came up to her waist, and, Albert in hand, Meghan followed her. A few hundred feet beyond the cliff’s edge was a bubbling lake of water, vast enough that Cyrene, even as a giant, was able to wade into it with a sigh.

“Come on in!” she called, “it’s a hot spring!”

“This is amazing,” Albert breathed, looking at the bubbling lake, “How come I’ve never heard of this place?”

“Judging by all the rocks and cliffs she flew over to get here?” Meghan said, looking back over the view, “It’s probably just too hard for anyone without wings to reach it.”

Meghan kicked off her boots, relishing the feel of the muddy moss squishing beneath her toes. Solid ground was something she had a renewed appreciation for after spending the day flying around with the harpy. She undid the lace on her robe, letting it fall to the ground, revealing her pale cotton undergarments. She smirked as she saw the king spare a glance at her, and holding him away from her so he could get a good view, she undid her brassiere. Her nipples quickly went stiff in the cold mountain air, and she shivered even as she kicked off her panties, revealing a small patch of brown hair between her legs.

“One last thing,” she said with a smile, taking off the thick glasses she always wore. She placed them on the pile of her clothes, and pulled up the small velvet satchel she’d taken from the abandoned apothecary.

“You should undress Albert too,” Cyrene called, causing water to well around Meghan’s feet as she waded closer to the shore. The lake must have been deep near the center, because as the harpy knelt down in the water, she was able to submerge herself up to her neck.  It was harder closer to shore, and Cyrene spread herself out, floating slightly on her stomach as she watched them.

“I can do it myse-“ he started, but Meghan was already giggling and pulling at the soaked and grimy doll’s clothing.

“Stop struggling!” she laughed, pulling his pants loose next. The doll clothing was always just a little too loose for him, and it came loose easily as the mage tugged at it.

“I don’t understand why humans are so hung up on clothes anyway,” Cyrene said, tilting her head as she watched, “I only started wearing them because I was living close to you guys, and it seemed like what everyone else was doing.”

Meghan waded into the warm and bubbling water, the slight mist of the hot spring enveloping them like a humid blanket. She sighed as she reached a point where the water was just up past her breasts, holding Albert aloft to keep him out of the water. She squealed suddenly as a harpy’s claw wrapped around her lower half, drawing her further into the steaming lake.

“What did you grab from the store?” Cyrene asked. She held her palm just below the surface of the water so Meghan could stand on it, those red feathers of her wings shimmering beneath the rippling water like some long-forgotten treasure.

“Soap,” Meghan said, gesturing to Albert, “this guy stinks!” She opened the small velvet bag she’d taken, revealing a purple bar. “This looks like the good stuff,” she said, “imported from the Imperial capital! Since you’re a king now you should probably be washing like one.”

“I’ve never had a bath with anything but lye soap my entire life,” Albert laughed, “my skin won’t peel for using it the rest.”

“Ooh!” Cyrene called down excitedly, “Sometimes my sisters would steal that stuff from merchant caravans! It’s really nice Albert, it makes you smell so good!”

He was about to respond, but Meghan’s hand dipped below the water, shocking him and bathing him in the warm lake. He coughed and sputtered as she brought him back up, and with a grin she dunked him  again, her fingers gripping him tightly as she swished him back and forth. The warmth of the water did feel good, and he felt his body go limp as he relaxed, his arms dangling back and forth as the giant woman soaked him.

He gasped for air as she brought him back up, his hair sticking to his face as the giant mage and the even larger harpy giggled down at him. The purple bar of soap came down on him, larger than his entire body, and he was slathered in the lilac smelling soap as Meghan roughly shoved it into him.

“Get every nook and cranny!” Cyrene called encouragingly, “I’m too big to bathe him properly!”

“I-I can bathe myself!” he protested, fighting against the unyielding bar of soap.

“No way!” Cyrene said with a laugh, “everyone knows when a harpy is looking out for a human, she’s got to make sure he’s bathed properly!”

“Really?” Meghan asked, continuing to scrub the struggling king. “That’s an odd thing for a monster to be worried about… no offense.”

“Of course,” Cyrene said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean… a lot of my sisters just kind of take humans, but you can’t take something and not take care of it!” She shrugged, “I’m kind of taking care of Albert now, so I figured I’d just help him out with things like that too.”

Albert grunted as Meghan’s fingers ran over his body, rubbing soap suds in. The mage’s powerful fingers gently massaged his muscles, pressing with ungodly strength and seeming to force apart muscle knots and tension he didn’t even know he had. If Meghan was aware of the effect she was having on him, she didn’t give any indication, simply continuing to scrub. She froze as her finger traced over his groin, a slow smile crossing her face as she felt an erection hiding by the bubbling suds.

“It seems the king is enjoying bath time,” Meghan said playfully. Her finger went traced back, circling his crotch and causing him to writhe with pleasure as she rubbed against his slick skin.

“That’s another thing we usually take care of for the humans we take,” Cyrene said, looking down with a smile, “It makes humans so much more relaxed when you deal with THAT regularly.” She frowned, looking down at the mage, “You know Meghan, a lot of harpies keep a human woman or two around, nest-wives they’re called, you seem to get along well with Albert…”

Meghan gulped, looking up at the giant harpy, “I uhh…” she looked down to the tiny king, “I’d better finish cleaning this guy off!” she said quickly. Her finger picked up it’s pace, causing Albert to swear as pleasure rocked his body.

“That’s it!” Cyrene encouraged, “Come on Albert, relax! Remember what I keep telling you about letting yourself get too stressed!”

As the mage continued her movements, Albert squirmed against that impossibly strong grip. It felt spectacular, but it also reminded him that, even to a petite woman like the court mage, he could be easily overpowered. He doubted she even noticed his struggles as her giant face came closer, the warm air of her breath flowing over his soapy body.

Somehow, the helplessness made it more intoxicating, and he found himself gripping her thumb and trying to force it off him, not out of a desire to free himself, but just to hear the sound of her playful laugh as she gripped him harder. Meghan seemed to pick up on it, and slowed her movements, deliberately leaving him on the edge of orgasm while he looked to her pleadingly.

“I’ll finish if you beg for it,” Meghan said, licking her lips.

“What!?” he looked up in a panic at Cyrene, who just smiled wider.

“You better do it Albert,” the harpy said, “you’re a caught fieldmouse!”

“K-Kings don’t beg!” he insisted, he hadn’t been a king for long, but he felt like he should at least try to maintain the crown’s dignity.

“Consider this a coup,” Meghan laughed, “come on Albert, beg us,” she grinned up at the giant harpy, who, from the look she returned, had clearly picked a side in this battle of wills. “Better yet, tell me I can run the kingdom, tell me I can sit on the throne!”

“NEVER!” he shouted, fiercer than he intended, but he was having trouble controlling his voice as the mage’s fingers continued to tease his manhood. The lilac scent of the soap permeated his senses, giving him a light head as she kept going, slowly, never letting him near the edge.

“I’m going to sit on the throne,” Meghan repeated, “and…” she thought a moment, then a smile lit up her face, “You’re right Albert, why don’t we share it?”

“S-Share it?” he wheezed.

“Yeah,” she said casually, “I’ll put you on it, then I’ll sit down.” Cyrene and Meghan laughed at his expression, “That’s it, that’s exactly what we’ll do!” she said, “I’ll just hold court like that, they’ll start saying beneath every great queen is a great king.”

“Just give up Albert!” Cyrene said with a smug grin, “if you do, I’ll let you sleep in my hair tonight.”

“Y-You always do!” he shouted in confusion.

“Not THAT hair,” Cyrene chuckled, tracing her free hand down her chest, ending with a finger pointing down below the water.

“Gods above,” he muttered, his eyes going wide.

“More like below,” Meghan teased. “Last chance Albert, beg me to cum and say I can sit on the throne.”

He looked up at the teasing goddesses, knowing he was completely helpless before them… but, this was HIS crown, he put up with all the nonsense that had come with it, and he had a persistent fear it would be his head that rolled if his plans failed.

“NO!” he shouted defiantly, a smile crossing his face, “I’m the king! Now, I order you court mage, finish me off!”

Meghan’s eyes went wide, “Damn,” she laughed, “yes, your majesty!” her fingers picked up speed, rapidly causing Albert to convulse as he shot his seed across the giant mage’s soapy fingers. She kept going, casually whisking his cum away and filling the void with more soap until he collapsed in a heap, completely spent.

“That was impressive,” Cyrene said, looking down at them, “I was sure you were going to give up Albert.”

“Not today,” he panted, “also Meghan, stop trying to betray the crown.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, looking away in embarrassment, “that’s… fair I guess.”

“Next time you get punished,” he said sternly.

“Y-You wouldn’t have my head chopped off, would you?” Meghan asked fearfully.

“I don’t think I’m the head-chopping kind of king,” he muttered, “and I’m not letting go of you for some time yet, come hell or high water… BUT,” he glanced up at Cyrene, who winked at him, “I’m sure my queen-to-be can figure out something.”

“Q-Queen to be?” Cyrene gasped happily, “D-Do you mean you want to…” she gulped, “M-Marry me?”

“If you can stomach the thought of being married to a doll sized king,” he laughed.

“Oh Albert!” She squealed. She grabbed Meghan up, causing the mage to grunt in surprise as she struggled to keep a grip on him. The pair were squeezed against Cyrene’s cheek as she cooed excitedly. “This is so crazy!” the harpy laughed, “a man asking a harpy for marriage! It’s okay though, I’m pretty open minded.”

“I don’t want to spoil the moment,” Meghan grunted, squeezed tightly in Cyrene’s fist, “b-but will there be any complications about making a monster queen?”

“At this point, if anyone has anything to say about it, I might become the head-chopping kind of king,” Albert said darkly. His expression brightened, “besides, I’ve got an army now, I can do whatever I want.”

“Oh wow,” Cyrene giggled, “I can’t believe it… Albert, I know human courting might be a bit different, but… I’m going to try to catch you some rabbits, and maybe find some shiny ribbons or something to give you. I know it seems late, but I just don’t feel right about marrying a man without giving him the right gifts first…” she thought a moment, “do you like sunflower seeds?”

“I love them,” he laughed, “but you might find your usual foraging methods more difficult at that size.”

Cyrene blinked, there was a flash of light, then a moment later he and Meghan were tumbling through the air, screaming. They met the water with a splash, both of them struggling and sputtering at the shock of the warm water filling their lungs. Albert surfaced, the ripples and waves of the hot spring like a roaring ocean at his tiny size. He collapsed with relief as Meghan picked him up, treading water even as she panicked, looking around in shock.

“Sorry,” Cyrene said, wading up to them at her normal eight foot stature, “I should have put you guys in the water first.”

“Y-You can change your size?” Meghan asked incredulously.

“I think so,” Cyrene said obliviously, “did you not know the potion would let me do that?”

“N-No,” Meghan said nervously, “I only have the ingredients page and a little bit of the dark lord’s notes.”

“It’s weird,” Cyrene explained, “like a muscle I didn’t know I had, I just sort of… made it move, and then boom, I was back to normal!” She smiled, “I think I can get big whenever I want!”

“Can I change my size at will too?” Albert asked eagerly. He grunted, concentrating with all his might… but nothing happened.

Meghan fought a laugh at his expression, “Don’t hurt yourself your majesty, don’t worry, your super loyal court mage will fix you right up… one of these days, seriously, I swear.”

Albert sighed, “let’s just try to enjoy the hot spring before we’ve got to go back to the castle, I’m sure Sines is going to tell us the lich is building a doomsday machine, or the dragon has burned all the harvest corn, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me, fiancé,” Cyrene giggled, wading over to them. She regarded Meghan again, “you know, with Albert and me getting married, I’m really going to have to consider the nest-wives matter more thoroughly…”

Meghan suddenly felt very much like a rabbit, watching the shadow of a hawk pass overhead.

Albert woke up again, and as always, he took a deep breath, savoring that scent that always seemed to cling to Cyrene’s hair. This time though, there was another under it, a musky, almost tangy smell mixed in with the crisp alpine one he loved. The hair he was tangled in for his bedding was coarser than that on her head, and it wrapped around him and trapped him much more easily.

He heard a giggle and a gasp as he turned over. Freeing himself from the tangled weave of red curls, he peered up through the “forest.” An amused harpy looked back down at him; her faraway face just slightly flushed.

“Sleep well?” She asked.

“It was definitely nice and warm,” he said with a smile.

“It’s about to get warmer,” Cyrene smirked.

Her taloned finger came down, pressing his naked body down into the tangles of her fiery red bush. He was forced along her skin, the coarse hair brushing against his own as she pushed him lower along her body. He soon felt a warm slimy feeling beginning with his feet, then his legs, torso, and finally his face as the giant harpy brought him fully against her slick womanhood.

He gulped nervously, then grunted as a finger came from behind, forcing his head against a clitoris the size of his face. The harpy moaned in pleasure, and he felt the lips below him growing wetter, his body sinking further into the pink cavern as it seemed almost eager to welcome him in.

He breathed out slowly, trying to calm himself at the prospect of being put… inside of Cyrene. He’d suspected that this would happen at some point while he was small, and the thought of what was about to happen had him rock hard already. Still, he couldn’t fight back all of his fear.

“Ready?” Cyrene whispered above.

“Yes,” he said simply, shutting his eyes as he prepared for the inevitable. He didn’t have to wait long, that clawed finger pressed against his back, flat so as not to poke him with it’s sharpness. Like a long-lost lover, Cyrene’s most intimate place swallowed him up, slimy flesh pulling him deeper even as her fingers left him.

It didn’t take him long to right himself, his head pointing inwards as he crawled deeper. He couldn’t hear anything but Cyrene’s heartbeat now, and it seemed to pulse like a drumbeat as the pillowy walls around him compressed and released as he struggled against them.

Cyrene groaned happily, a smile crossing her face as he began to wriggle inside her, caught like a worm. Her finger traced down, toying with her clit as Albert squirmed against her insides.

“Yes,” she breathed with a smile, “come on, fight!”

Meghan rolled over, muttering as she blinked awake on the far side of the nest. She’d let Cyrene put her in here the night before, and she had to admit, it was more comfortable than she’d expected.

As her vision focused, her eyes bulged as she saw what the harpy was doing. She stared for a moment, watching Cyrene finger herself and shout encouragement to a king she couldn’t see, but who’s location she could easily guess.

“Whoa,” Meghan muttered.

The brief noise was enough for Cyrene to glance at her, giving her a grin even as she continued to finger herself.

“Meghan,” she breathed, “sorry to wake you, I-“ she stopped to gasp as Albert squirmed in just the right way. “I’m just playing with Albert a little!”

“W-Where is he?” Meghan breathed, wide eyed. She had a feeling she already knew, but Cyrene gestured down with her head and gave the mage a grin.

Albert felt the walls around him contract again, squishing and squeezing him as the harpy continued to pleasure herself. Every movement he made caused an earthquake, the slick flesh pummeling him back and forth as he was overpowered by even the smallest contractions of Cyrene’s arousal.

“Meghan,” Cyrene said with a devious grin, “come over here a minute.”

Almost in a trance, the mage crawled over the nest towards the harpy. Cyrene gently guided the smaller woman between her legs, giving Meghan a good view of the amazonian harpy as she leered down at her. Meghan’s heart was pounding, unsure of what Cyrene wanted.

“L-Listen,” Meghan stuttered, “I know the girl’s dorms in the imperial mage academy have a certain reputation, but it’s all just-“

“Shh,” Cyrene hushed her, her clawed hand circled the back of Meghan’s head and slowly guided the small woman’s face down. Meghan’s protests stopped as her face was buried in Cyrene’s waiting pussy, and Cyrene gasped and ground her hips upward as Meghan began eating her out without further protest. The combined motions of Meghan’s tongue and Alberts squirming were driving her wild, and she almost screamed as her arousal built.

Meghan felt Cyrene’s massive taloned hand squeeze the back of her head, grinding her against the harpy’s pussy and tangled red hair. Meghan licked as fast as she could, the juices covering her face and filling her with the taste and smell of the monster’s womanhood.

Albert felt something touching the bottom of his feet, it came again, and he gasped as it seemed to hook around his feet, pulling him out slightly. A tongue!? Meghan’s maybe? He grunted and tried to crawl deeper into Cyrene, fleeing the probing appendage.

Cyrene shouted one more time, her whole body going rigid as a pair of powerful thighs clamped around Meghan’s face. Albert was suddenly pushed outward, the muscles contracting as the flood of liquid delivered him right into Meghan’s waiting mouth.

“Did you catch him?” Cyrene asked, smiling and panting.

“Mm hmm” Meghan said, nodding.

“Good job,” Cyrene said, twirling her hair.

Albert’s world was dark, and he felt his heartbeat pick up again as Meghan’s tongue played with him. The last time he’d been in a woman’s mouth he’d been swallowed, and he wasn’t eager to have it happen again. He sighed with relief when Meghan spat him into her cupped hands a moment later.

The mage’s face was slick with Cyrene’s fluids, and her short hair was mussed and standing on end. She had a flushed expression on her face as she looked down at the naked king in her hands.

“Hold still,” Cyrene said lazily. She reached over to the side of the nest, where a small alcove was built into the walls. A collection of seeds, shiny buttons, and other assorted “treasures” the harpy collected sat inside, and Albert and Meghan watched curiously as Cyrene fumbled around a moment, her taloned hand coming out with a shimmering pink ribbon. Leaning forward, she started tying it in a bow on Meghan’s head.

“Uh, thanks,” Meghan said, “but… why?”

“Just marking you as a nest-wife,” Cyrene said as if it was obvious.

“W-What?” Meghan stammered.

“Well yeah,” Cyrene said with a smile, “a nice little ribbon will let any other harpies around know you’re taken.”

“I don’t know if I want to be a nest-wife!” Meghan said, wide eyed.

Cyrene frowned, “Well, Albert and I are getting married soon, we’ll probably want at least one. You seem pretty obedient, and you’re super cute too!” She sighed happily, “It’s so exciting!”

“Hey!” Meghan shouted, “I’m not obedient!”

“That’s not the word I’d use either,” Albert said, laughing, “Cyrene, I think we’ll be okay without picking up any… nest-wives.” He frowned, “how exactly do harpy families work, anyway?”

Cyrene shrugged, “Well, most harpies just grab men they like, then once you have a husband, you can grab a nest-wife to do extra stuff for you, cook, clean, take care of your husband and chicks while you’re out hunting, stuff like that. My momma always said that things work a lot easier if you only take humans that want to go with you though, otherwise you’ve got to tame them.”

“Tame them?” Meghan squeaked.

“Keep them on a leash, tie them up while you go hunting, maybe give a few spankings,” Cyrene said obliviously.

Meghan’s face grew redder, and the mage licked her lips, thinking about it… her mind was going to some… interesting places, not at all where she thought it would on being threatened with a “taming.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing any of that,” Cyrene said, “momma never did it to poppa or any of my aunties, and they seem to like her a lot more than a lot of other husbands or nest wives, my human siblings even still come to visit her sometimes.”

“Human siblings?” Meghan asked incredulously.

“Half-siblings I guess humans would call them,” she said, thinking. “Anyways, I don’t think I’m doing any taming, I mean Albert, you don’t seem like you’re going to run away.”

“Not from you,” he chuckled. “We’d better start getting dressed, Brodda and Morwen are supposed to get here sometime soon.”

As Cyrene again looked over the castle’s old dolls for an outfit for him, he couldn’t help but notice that Meghan didn’t remove the ribbon from her hair as she put her robe on.

…

“So Sines, you old bastard,” Brodda said, regarding the court chancellor, “what’s your game with this tiny king? You planning on running things from the shadows? Maybe skimming some gold for yourself?”

Sines just chuckled as they waited for the king to arrive, “Honestly? I was planning to do exactly that! I figured it would be easy enough to isolate the fool boy and do whatever I wanted, but although his rulership has been… unorthodox so far, he’s brought this kingdom back from the brink of ruin in a few days, so I think I’m going to see where this goes.” He shrugged, “if he keeps things up like he has, I’ll make more money and have more power just following him.”

Morwen, Sines, Brodda, and the regular two knights all turned as the throne room door opened. As usual the minute king’s head poked out of the harpy’s red hair, and Cyrene smiled down at the humans as she walked over to the throne and took a seat. Behind her the court mage followed, taking her place with the other advisors.

“Let’s get started,” Albert said as Cyrene settled into the throne. “Brodda, how goes the tax collecting?”

The former bandit shrugged, “honestly, it’s not that far off from the robbery we were doing before, people do seem a lot more willing to hand over their coin with a letter from you though. Still, a lot of them aren’t happy, taxes haven’t been collected in this kingdom for years.”

Albert laughed, “I have to admit, I never liked the idea of taxes, then I became king, and my opinion on them improved dramatically.” He turned to Sines, “Now then, the threats to the kingdom?”

“The lich is still gathering his forces,” Sines said, “reports indicate he has raised tens of thousands of skeletons and horrible walking corpses with his dread necromancy.”

“If we kill him, do they all die too?” he asked.

“Yep!” Meghan said excitedly, “well, unless someone else starts powering them…” her eyes lit up, “Albert, can I get a skeleton?!”

“Why in the name of the gods would you want a skeleton?” Morwen said, crossing her arms with disgust.

“I just think they’re neat!” Meghan said, “he could like, carry my books and stuff. I’ll call him boney!”

“I don’t know if I want you dabbling in necromancy,” Albert said, rubbing his forehead and sinking into the pool of red hair with a sigh, “and the dragon, Sines?”

“She’s mostly just harassing villagers, as far as I’m told,” the chancellor explained, “eating livestock, stealing things, she got bored with the theater troupe and let them go at least.”

“Morwen,” he said, turning to her, “you’re immune to magic, right? Can you kill this beast?”

Morwen raised an eyebrow, “I’m resistant to magic, sure, but it still hurts when your pipsqueak wizard hurls lightning bolts at me, and I don’t know if dragon fire is magical or not, seems like I wouldn’t know until I was already on fire or not. That’s assuming the beast’s claws and teeth don’t become a problem first.”

“How did that whole anti-magic thing happen anyway?” Meghan said, looking over her curiously. The barest hint of some Morwen’s scars could be seen across her breasts in the low-cut shirt she was wearing. Meghan bit her lip and walked closer, reaching out almost unconsciously as though to touch them.

“I wouldn’t,” Brodda said in a low voice, “Morwen isn’t fond of your kind.”

“I can take care of myself brother,” Morwen growled, “I was just waiting for her to get a little closer…”

Meghan gulped and took a few steps back, “J-Just professional curiosity!” she stammered.

Morwen just glared at her, then turned back to the king, “My liege, why not have the harpy deal with the dragon? I can lead a small squad of men to provide support with some cannons. The mage is useless, spells don’t work on dragons, but cannonballs might do the trick.”

“Ugh,” Cyrene shuddered, “I don’t like fire, and I don’t like anything scaly either, lizards, snakes,” the harpy thought it over, “I guess if I came down at her really fast from really high up, it could be over quick…”

“Dragons aren’t known to die easily,” Brodda remarked.

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Albert said, stroking a tuft of silky red hair as he thought, “I don’t want Cyrene hurt or killed fighting that thing, and diverting men and heavy weaponry to the west might leave us weak if the Lich decides to come for us.”

“I’ll fight it for you,” Cyrene insisted, “I mean… I don’t WANT to, but I will…”

He smiled, “Thanks, but you’ve done enough, and you’ll have to do more for me later.” He shrugged, “Brodda, we’ve got a good amount of gold, don’t we?”

“You’ve probably got more than any other Baldanian king has had in a long time,” Brodda remarked, “don’t go spending it all in one place now, the men love me, and really, who wouldn’t?” he said with a smile, “but it’s going to be a lot easier to keep them in line with regular pay.”

“Pay is what I’m thinking,” he mused, “dragons love gold, right? Why don’t we just offer her some to leave?”

“You want to… pay her?” Sines asked incredulously, “my liege, such a display of weakness would-“

“Save us from dealing with problems on two fronts,” Albert said, “if the dragon carries off the treasury, we’re poor, I’ve been poor before, it’s not so bad. I’ve never been dead though, and I don’t think it will agree with me. Cyrene will fly me over to the dragon and we can hash out a deal.”

…

Cyrene took a deep breath, the purple sparks crackling along her wings as she grew to an enormous height once more. The harpy loved the feeling of growing, the power of her expanding form coursing through her as she blocked out the sun to the watching humans in the courtyard below. She spread her wings, casting a shadow over the entire castle town as she flapped them once, causing a gust that could be felt throughout the village. The naked harpy loomed large over the castle like a divine goddess, her red feathers shimmering in the morning sunlight.

“Right,” Albert said, hands on his hips, “Meghan, if you could pick me up-“

“I really don’t want to go flying again,” the mage whined, “can’t you just go by yourself?”

“I need someone to hold me,” he said impatiently, “at this size, and with her at THAT size… I’m little more than a flea to her, I can’t stay in her hair safely on my own.”

“Let the cowardly little spellslinger stay on the ground,” Morwen spat, leaning down to pick him up, “It’s not like she could have helped against a dragon anyways. I’ll go with you.”

“Uh, thanks,” Meghan muttered, watching Morwen’s fingers curl around Albert, “is that okay Al?”

He chewed his lip, thinking even as the warrior-woman lifted him to her face. He didn’t know Morwen well, and after she’d tortured him in her armpit, and then swallowed him whole, he harbored a certain amount of fear towards her… along with some other, more confusing feelings. He blinked and shook his head, being tiny was affecting his thought process, he reasoned. That had to be it, that was why he suddenly enjoyed these enormous women doing… things, to him.

“Morwen can carry me,” he decided finally. She was Brodda’s second in command, and seemingly the person the former bandit leader trusted most in the world, they’d probably be working together a lot, and he’d just have to force himself to get over the circumstances of their meeting.

“Try not to eat him this time,” Brodda said with a smirk, causing both Morwen and Albert to glare at him.

“Should you really be teasing people about getting eaten?” Cyrene giggled overhead. She winked at the suddenly pale Brodda, “I skipped breakfast this morning…” she licked her lips, and this time Morwen and Albert shared a quick smile as Brodda quickly left, stammered something about needing to drill the recruits.

Cyrene’s hand came down, and Morwen gingerly stepped onto it, sitting down as the pair was elevated up to Cyrene’s hair.

“I’m sorry about the stuff I did when we met,” Morwen said suddenly, “I just… I really needed my brother back.”

“It’s okay, really,” he insisted, “we’re all on the same side now, and honestly? Being tiny, sometimes embarrassing things happen to you.”

“Did the wizard do it?” Morwen asked angrily, tying a strand of Cyrene’s hair around her stomach as the harpy prepared to take off.

“Not intentionally,” he sighed, “and honestly? It’s given me a new perspective on some things, I’m not entirely upset it’s happened.” He grinned, “some things about it have been… interesting.”

…

Cyrene soared through the air, crossing the kingdom in a matter of hours. On her head Morwen smiled, the wind rushing through her hair as she fought the urge to cry out in joy as she watched the world pass below her. How could the wizard hate this? This was amazing!

She’d been fighting an urge for most of the flight, and as she looked at Albert in her hands she bit her lip, her face flushed from embarrassment.

“Albert,” she shouted over the roaring wind, “C-Can I put you somewhere so I have my hands free?”

“Sure, like a pocket or-“ His face went as crimson as the hair that surrounded them as Morwen gently placed him at her chest, wedging him slowly into the soft cleavage. He very quickly recognized the earthy smell of the woman’s sweat, thankfully not nearly as strong this time, and the breasts seemed to swallow him up, compressing him on either side and holding him in place. Morwen’s chest was big enough that there was no need to tighten her top or shove him against the fabric, her cleavage alone was enough to snuggly hold him in place.

Satisfied that her king was secure, Morwen climbed higher up on Cyrene’s head, the “safety line” of hair trailing behind her as she grinned eagerly, looking out at the world flying by below them. Her own hair whipped around her face and she laughed happily.

…

Alexis the dragon stomped through the center of a village, ignoring the screaming humans at her feet. She just rolled her eyes at the reaction, and gazed over them to see if any caught her eye. She licked her lips as she noticed one man, in armor and with a sword, trying to direct the others as they ran. A real warrior maybe? A clawed hand reached out for him, the shimmering red scales of her forearm glittering in the sun as she curled her fingers around him.

“My my,” she mused, smoke briefly billowing from her nostrils as slitted reptilian eyes focused in on him, “you must be the town’s sheriff?”

“D-Do what you want with me!” he called, “just please don’t hurt anyone else!”

“Brave!” she said excitedly, “and a real man’s man too, look at those arms…” she lifted the panicking man’s arm forcibly, feeling the pulsing bicep under his shirt. A forked serpentine tongue slithered out of her mouth, dancing out over him as a few puffs of smoke billowed from Alexis’s very human looking nose. “What a fine flavor,” she mused, “just a bit of sweat… I’ll have to get you all cleaned off.”

“Gods no,” the man whispered in horror as he was tasted again. He scowled and steeled himself, shutting his eyes tight.

“Relax sweetie,” she said with a surprisingly girlish giggle, “I just want you to come have dinner with me, maybe chat a little.” She pouted, an odd expression on human lips, and her flared and scaled ears drooped mockingly, “aww… I am kind of scary, aren’t I?” She waited a moment, until the human finally opened his eyes, not sure what she was waiting for.

“I-If you aren’t going to hurt me, then please let me go!”

“In due time,” she mused, “tell me my little hero, do you think I’m pretty?”

The sheriff’s eyes went wide, was this a trick? He gulped nervously and tried to guess what the monster wanted him to say. She certainly wasn’t ugly, although her arms and legs ended in taloned and scaled appendages, the woman, and it WAS a woman for certain, had an almost human stature, with normal looking skin over most of her form, and a pair of impressive breasts that would catch a man’s eye at any size. While her face had a few scales tracing up her cheeks, it was the face of a beautiful woman. She had a regal look to her, and if she’d been human he wouldn’t be surprised to find she was a noble, but a moment later those massive leathern wings flapped behind her casually, and as that thick scaled tale swished impatiently behind her he reminded himself that this was a dragon.

“Y-You certainly are beautiful,” the sheriff shouted, “b-but I only truly have eyes for my wife!”

“Wife!?” Alexis said, her spirit deflating as she noticed a tiny gold band around the man’s finger. She sighed, “Yes, of course, your wife, she’s a lucky woman.” She slowly lowered the married man to the ground, glancing jealously at him one last time, before flapping her wings and lifting off into the sky again.

Alexis swore angrily, all the good men in this kingdom were taken! She flew low, breathing a torrent of fire over a field of barley in her anger. It singed and smoldered as she flew on, smoke rising behind her as a testament to her wrath. She’d steal a few barrels of wine and spend the evening pigging out on smoked brisket and baked goods, she decided. What did it matter if you got fat if no men would court you anyway!? Maybe she’d kidnap a few bards and make them play sad songs… idly she wondered how far that theater troupe she’d been holding could have gotten, but then she scowled and pushed the idea away, she’d already seen all of their plays a dozen times each.

…

Cyrene set down outside the smoking volcano, flapping her wings a few times and causing the smoke overhead to drift away from them as she lowered Morwen and Albert to the ground.

“Someone liked flying!” the harpy laughed.

“It was amazing,” Morwen breathed, “you have to take me up there again!”

“Any time!” Cyrene said with a wink.

“This is where she’s supposed to have made her lair,” Albert muttered, looking up at the smoking mountain. “Look, there’s a cave right up there.”

“I don’t know about this,” Cyrene muttered, “I don’t really like underground stuff either…”

“You can probably stay out here,” he said, “we’ll just go in, introduce ourselves, and explain what we want. From the reports she’s not a particularly vicious dragon, she’ll probably be happy to hear our offer.”

“Right,” Cyrene muttered, “well, if it does get ugly, run out here and I’ll give her a taste of talon.”

She did a quick double take and giggled, “Albert, are you in Morwen’s boobies?”

He rolled his eyes, “It was the safest place to put me while we were-“

“Mine aren’t big enough to carry you like that I don’t think,” Cyrene said, looking down with a frown, “Meghan’s definitely aren’t… she’s got itty bitty ones.” She grinned down at Morwen, who was growing a bit uncomfortable herself, “do you like big ones Albert?”

“I uh,” he cleared his throat, looking up at Morwen, who was stammering defenses of her choice in carrying location, “I appreciate many forms of beauty!” he shouted, hoping to cut off the awkward conversation.

“Hmmm…” Cyrene replied, stroking her chin with a clawed hand, “Morwen, what color ribbons do you like?”

Morwen blinked, “I’m not sure I understand-“

“Let’s go meet with the dragon,” Albert said hastily.

…

In spite of the embarrassing conversation, he noticed Morwen had left him imprisoned in her cleavage, and it jiggled around him slightly as she entered the cave, the glowing light of lava somewhere up ahead lighting their way. Morwen had her rifle slung across her back, and rested a hand on her sword as they entered a large antechamber. Something was off, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. When he was being held by someone, usually he could hear…

“Morwen,” he said suddenly, “are you okay? I don’t hear your heartbeat.”

“I don’t have a heart,” she said, peering ahead.

“Erm, you seem like a nice enough person to me,” he said reassuringly.

“No,” Morwen said in low voice, “I mean… turn around.”

He managed to work himself around, looking at one of Morwen’s scars, which traced from a place between her breasts all the way down into her shirt where he couldn’t see. He fought a shudder, it looked painful.

“They took it out,” she said quietly, “I… I actually was awake when I saw it stop beating, they just left it on a fucking table…” She was silent a moment, “they put something else in,” she said finally, “it was clear, like a crystal, but I guess that’s what moves my blood now, you might be able to hear it if I get really excited…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes wide. “I had no idea, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” Morwen said bitterly, “I’m not even sure what they were trying to do to me, when my brother found where I was, he wasn’t in a questioning mood.” A small smile traced over her features, “he made sure they’ll never do it to anyone else ever again though.”

“I know you don’t like her,” Albert said quietly, “but… Meghan could maybe learn something about it, if you let her take a look-“

“Absolutely not!” Morwen snapped, suddenly angry, “I’ve been just fine so far, and besides, I don’t know if she’s a good choice to poke and prod me. Didn’t she shrink you by accident?”

“I suppose,” he admitted with a sigh.

“It’s not so bad,” Morwen said, looking up at the ceiling of the cave a moment, “magic can’t hurt me anymore, and there are other things in life than being pretty…”

“Do you think you aren’t?” he asked curiously.

She chuckled, “the wizards spared my face, I have that much at least, but I can’t imagine anyone caring for what’s under my shirt.”

He just laughed, “Morwen, there is not a single man in the kingdom who would turn down a chance to see you take off that shirt, scars or no scars.”

“You’re nice to say that,” she chuckled.

The two of them reached a large antechamber, and Morwen peered down into the core of the volcano. The two of them frowned as a woman’s voice echoed up to them, it sounded like she was… crying? Morwen carefully peered over the edge of a rocky outcropping, spotting the draconic woman below.

She was big, maybe a bit bigger than Cyrene was at her maximum height, and shockingly human in appearance. Albert would even go as far as to say she had more human features than serpentine ones.

The dragon was halfway submerged in a glowing pool of lava as she drank from a barrel of wine. They watched as she wiped her mouth, tossed the barrel against the wall, causing it to burst into splinters, then reached for another in a large pile.

“She must have looted a vineyard,” Albert guessed.

The dragon sobbed again, blowing her nose and causing a gout of flame to fly out of her nostrils as she reached for a massive wedding cake. In one quick gulp it was gone, and she reached for a tray of pies next.

“Play another song!” she sobbed angrily. On a rocky pillar above her a very scared looking bard was strumming a lute. He began an upbeat tune, but the dragon just growled, “Not that one!” she shouted angrily, “a sad one, do one about people who find love, but then everyone dies at the end!”

“Err…” the bard paused a moment, “of course Miss Alexis!” he began a slow mournful tune.

“So, how do you want to approach this?” Morwen asked quietly.

“I guess we should probably try to get her to let go of the bard,” Albert muttered, “I’m not really a man of action, what do you think-“

“Who’s up there?” Alexis snapped. She put her barrel of wine down and peered up suspiciously. With an angry growl she spread her wings, flapping them and lifting herself out of the lava which ran down over her like water.

A massive face rose up to them, easily spotting them on the outcropping. Alexis’s slitted eyes focused on Morwen, spotting the rifle and sword at her side. The dragon tossed her head back, whisking her black hair among her curled horns as she snarled angrily.

“A monster hunter?” She growled, “Oh, this is JUST what I need today!” Her mouth opened, and Morwen’s eyes bulged as she saw a fiery glow rising from the back of the dragon’s throat.

“Wait!” Albert shouted, “We’re not here to-“

Morwen gripped him, pulling him out of her cleavage and tossing him across the cavern just as the jet of flame hit her.

“MORWEN!” He hit the floor with a grunt, scrambling to his feet and looking on in horror as white-hot flames poured out of the dragonesses mouth, so bright that he couldn’t stand to stare straight at it. He felt himself seize up, not sure what to do… He fought back a sob, then almost cried again in relief when the fire dissipated, showing Morwen’s now naked form still standing there.

Her clothing had been burned to ash almost immediately, and soot mixed with the scars that crisscrossed her body as she looked down in amazement. She tossed the molten mess of her sword to the ground at her feet, then looked up at the dragon.

“Dragon fire IS magical fire then,” she muttered.

“Hmm…” the dragon mused, “maybe I’ll have to use my claws?”

Morwen deftly leapt out of the way of the swiping talons, scooping Alfred up as she ran. Despite the apparent ineffectiveness the dragon continued to blow streams of fire at them, tracing her head just behind the naked woman as she ran for the cave’s exit. She felt the heat from the fire on the back of her neck, and with a sigh looked down at Albert.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said, but before he could ask what, she popped him in her mouth, and swallowed him down with a loud gulp just as the flames covered her again. She winced as the heat washed over her, while it didn’t harm her exactly, it didn’t feel very good either. Her unblemished skin smoked as the fire dissipated once again, and she took solace in the fact that, while the king was probably not pleased to be in her belly again, he was safe from the dragonfire.

Albert was squeezed down her throat, panicking as the powerful muscles compressed him, plopping him once more into the soupy contents of Morwen’s stomach. He wasn’t nearly as afraid this time, and he just sighed and leaned back in the warm liquid. He was jostled about as Morwen ran, leapt, and tumbled outside, dodging attacks from the dragon.

“You’re skilled hunter,” Alexis said with a chuckle as Morwen deftly dodged a swipe of her tail, “but you won’t be taking my scales as your prize today!”

“I don’t want your scales!” Morwen shouted, “I’m not a hunter! Stop this!”

Alexis paused, debating whether to hear the woman out or not. She realized something suddenly, and she looked over her shoulder and saw with a sigh that her bard had fled during the fight. Well, that was an evening ruined, she’d need to find something else to entertain her now. Leaning over onto the outcropping the woman was on, Alexis propped her head in her hands.

“Well, you’ve let my singer escape, so I guess I have nothing better to do than hear whatever yarn you care to spin. Go on girl, this had better be interesting.”

“Uhhh…” Morwen cleared her throat, “Could you look away a minute? I swallowed something, and I need to… retrieve it.”

“Disgusting,” Alexis said, even as she obliged her and turned her head, “you’re not off to a great start you know.”

…

Albert sat in a naked and soot covered Morwen’s hand, soaked and dripping half-digested muck from his clothes. They didn’t make a dignified pair, and as he’d explained who he was and what he’d come to do, the Dragon’s imperious gaze had twisted from suspicion to amusement.

“So instead of paying adventurers to slay me, you’re just going to pay ME?” Alexis laughed, “I suppose you’re saving some money by cutting out the middleman.”

“Roughly how much gold would you need to consider leaving?” Albert said nervously, “I don’t have nearly enough for you to use as a bed like your type likes, but I think it could be the start of a good-sized hoard.”

“I don’t know,” Alexis mused, “I’m a little young to be settling down with a treasure hoard, I don’t want to spend my golden years sleeping on a pile of coins and exchanging riddles with halflings looking to pilfer it.”

“What could we offer you then?” Albert asked, “This current state of affairs is unacceptable, my subjects need peace and stability.”

“Then they should live in a different kingdom,” Alexis mused, “still, it’s odd to see you so invested in their lives… are you sure you’re human? You’re showing an odd amount of selflessness, and I didn’t think they came so small.”

“There was a potion mishap,” he said, “I can assure you that despite my size I am both human AND the king! Now, what are your demands?”

“Demands,” the dragoness muttered, “what I really want is a man.”

“A man?” Morwen asked curiously, “but… aren’t you a-“

“I don’t know if you can tell by my appearance,” she said, running a finger over the more humanlike skin on her face, her finger skipping over the scattered red scales, “but I have a lot of human lineage. I think the last full-blooded dragon in my line was my grandmother.”

“Your grandfather must have been a very brave man,” Albert said without thinking.

Luckily, she didn’t take offense, laughing uproariously and causing smoke to drift out of her nostrils, “He was!” she said excitedly, “a bit of a loon really, gods I miss him…”

“So…” Morwen began hesitantly, “what kind of man do you want exactly? I mean, there are lots of men around, they’re not hard to find…”

“Listen,” Alexis said with a smile, “Woman to woman? I’m not looking for just ANY man…” she sighed wistfully, “I want a strong type, the sort who can lead songs in a tavern, with big bulging arms!” she licked her lips, “momma wants some meat, understand?”

“I think so,” Morwen said, nodding, “so a burly type, a farmhand maybe?”

“No,” Alexis said dismissively, “nothing against them, but I want a man who’s had some adventures, that’s the only type that will be able to keep up with a dragoness, you understand?” She paused, “but he should also be loyal, someone who cares about his family! I mean we might start one after all…” she sighed again, smiling as she stared off into the distance. “Not that I’ll find a man like THAT anytime soon,” she muttered bitterly.

“A burly outgoing type, who leads a life on the edge, and who’s also a family man,” Albert said incredulously, “Look, Miss Alexis, why don’t we talk about the gold again-“

“I uh, think I know someone,” Morwen said.

Alexis’s eyes went wide and she leaned forward eagerly, “Is he single!?”

…

Cyrene frowned as she saw Morwen walking out of the volcano lair’s entrance, naked and covered in ashes. Albert was noticeably disheveled, and he looked wet.

“Did everything go okay?” she asked, bending down and extending her hand for Morwen to climb in.

“The good news is we won’t be losing the royal treasury to her,” Albert said.

“Oh,” Cyrene said, lifting them to her head, “I guess that’s good, I really like gold, it’s pretty shiny. So, what are we going to give her?”

“We need to make a few stops,” Morwen said, “I need to pick up a few things for my brother.”

…

Morwen, now fully clothed again, sat at her brother’s side. Brodda had been seated at the head of the royal dining table, and he looked appreciatively at a large roast goose before him. Meghan walked up to his side and placed a bottle of the kingdom’s finest wine at his side, and she smiled as she sat down next to Cyrene, who had returned to her normal eight-foot form, forgoing a dining chair and simply sitting on the floor.

“Wow,” Brodda laughed, “this is all of my favorite food and drink! What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday, is it? Morwen usually tracks that kind of thing for me.”

“We just thought you have been working so hard, drilling the army, recruiting people, collecting taxes,” Albert said, perched in Cyrene’s hair.

“Oh,” Brodda said with a smile, “No trouble at all! I kind of like it actually, I was always better at bigger picture kind of stuff. Successful banditry is ninety percent planning you know.” He took a long drink from his wineglass, sighing contentedly as he placed it back down by his plate. “How did things go with the dragon by the way? Did his majesty manage to stay out of my sister’s belly?”

Morwen coughed uncomfortably. Brodda’s eyes went wide, and he looked back and forth from his sister, then to Albert, then just started chuckling, then laughing as his wine shot out of his nose.

“Y-You’re joking!” he wheezed, “it happened again?”

“Circumstances necessitated it,” Albert said tersely, “So Brodda, I was thinking, we should really get to know each other better. For example, is there a girl you have your eye on? A special someone in your life?”

He snorted, “Morwen and I have been on the run from the law since we were teenagers, that’s no kind of life for romancing girls, no matter what the stories tell you.”

“And uh, what kind of girl would you want?” Albert said.

Brodda stroked his chin, “I never thought about it, but…” he grinned at Morwen, “well, my sister’s the only woman who doesn’t slap me when I talk to her, so she’d have to have a thick skin.”

“Like thick enough to deflect arrows and swords!” Cyrene said excitedly.

“Uh, as a metaphor, I suppose,” Brodda said, raising an eyebrow. “I guess I’d like her to be passionate too, a real spitfire-“

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Cyrene said, ignoring Albert’s attempts to silence her.

Brodda’s eyes narrowed, “Okay, what is really going on here?” He glanced at Morwen, but his sister just had an odd smile on her face.

“D-Do you remember how mother used to make me promise to find you a nice woman someday?” she said.

He glanced around the table, “I… if there’s a woman you want me to meet, why all this…” he waved his hand, “whatever this is?”

“Oh boy,” Meghan laughed, looking up at Albert, “I’m really looking forward to seeing how you spin this one.”

“What, is she ugly or something?” Brodda joked, “seriously, why are all of you suddenly so interested in my love life? Morwen, what’s going on?”

…

Albert sat in Cyrene’s hair, she was at her normal size now, so he was able to relax, letting the silky strands coil around him while he watched Meghan and Morwen work.

“I-Is this really necessary?” Brodda asked, watching the two women tie him to the large wooden stake.

“This is a traditional dragon courtship thing,” Meghan explained, “tie the princess-“ Brodda glared at her, “Prince,” Meghan corrected, “tie them up, and then the dragon comes and takes them away to their lair.”

The five of them had gathered on a grassy hill far outside the capital. Cyrene had delivered the message to Alexis about where she could find her “date,” and the group had decided to help the former bandit prepare for it.

“Morwen, are you sure about this?” he asked his sister, scanning the sky nervously.

“Look, you’re exactly her type, and I think you’re going to really like her,” Morwen replied. “Now hold still, while you’re tied up, I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do a long time.” Brodda rolled his eyes as a comb appeared in his sister’s hand, gently fixing his hair and combing down a cowlick.

“And what if she doesn’t think I’m her type?” he asked, “what if I say something that I don’t even realize is offensive, then she starts blowing fire all over the place?”

“Er,” Morwen bit her lip, “Brodda, just try to relax and be yourself, you’re a popular man, people like you! She will too!”

“I know I’m popular,” he said with a chuckle, “I’m wanted in three countries.”

…

Brodda listened to the wind howl across the hilltops. The other four had left him alone, tied and trussed as an offering to the dragon.  There was a rush of wind, and his eyes went wide as he saw her descending from the clouds. Red scales glistened as the woman’s black hair streamed behind her in the wind, and in a graceful motion for a creature so large, she landed on the hillside. He stared up at her in awe as she knelt, then laid down on the grassy hillside, her immense face staring at him with a nervous smile.

“H-Hi,” she stuttered, “You must be Brodda?”

“That’s me,” he said, still stunned. “Are you Alexis?” it was a stupid question, how many giant dragonkin women could there be around here? Still, it seemed polite to ask, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, you look just like they said,” she squealed. “I uh… brought you some flowers.” Her massive hand came around to him, and pinched between a clawed thumb and forefinger was a small bouquet of daisies.

“Thanks,” he said, brow furrowing, “I’d take them but…”

She seemed to notice his predicament and she fought a giggle, “why are you tied up like that?”

He frowned, “The mage said this was how dragons liked to… meet people.”

“I think she spends too much time reading old stories,” Alexis laughed. She reached up, a claw extending as she tore through the ropes holding him in place. “I appreciate the thought though… Come along, I’ve prepared food and drink, and there’s a wonderful little theater troupe that probably hasn’t been able to get out of the country yet!”

With that she curled her hand around him, the rough scales hard against his skin even as her more human palm felt soft and inviting. She was beautiful, once you looked past the horns and tail… He smiled, maybe this would work out?

…

“I can’t believe you made them perform all three acts of the play on the side of the road!” Brodda laughed, sipping wine as he lounged on a pilfered couch in the dragon’s lair. “It reminds me of this one time, my sister and I, we stopped this big caravan, now we should have been on easy street, right?” He looked up at the draconic giantess, nodding eagerly and hanging on his every word, “but the whole thing was full of food and medicine, apparently there was an earthquake somewhere and they were going to help. Now obviously, even if we were the types, you can’t exactly sell that stuff, but you can’t get an image as being soft, right?”

“Oh, I know,” Alexis said, with a sigh, smoke trailing out of her nostrils, “I try not to hurt anyone when I’m out pillaging myself, but it’s like, if you just come around blowing smoke everywhere, eventually people start saying ‘oh there’s the dragon’ and just go about their day!”

“Ugh, you’re telling me,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, “anyway my sister has this idea that we make them dance! So I says everyone out of the wagons, and we made them do barn dances for an hour, they were terrible at it, but we told them they were good enough to be spared.”

“You dance!?” Alexis asked eagerly, “show me!”

He sat up, only slightly unsteady from the wine, but with well practiced muscle memory from his youth he began a series of intricate footsteps he remembered well from before his life of crime. He spun on his heels, clapping in time as Alexis joined in, laughing and clapping her hands, the thunderous sound echoing through the cavern. Brodda kept going for a few minutes, until his foot caught on a stray stone on the floor, with a cry of surprise he tumbled over, but Alexis’s giant hand shot out, catching him before he could hit the floor.

“I guess it’s been too long,” he laughed as she gently placed him upright again.

“I loved it,” she said in a husky voice. “The hour grows late…”

“Yes,” he replied with a contented sigh, “I suppose it does… do you wish for me to leave?”

“Absolutely not!” Alexis said, her eyes flashing eagerly. She caught herself and cleared her throat, “That is to say… I mean, you could stay the night, if you wanted.” Her tail unconsciously moved behind him, almost coiling around him, but staying just a few feet away.

He gulped and looked up at her gigantic form. He took a breath and mentally slapped himself, he could do this, right? If that little man Albert could do this, he could do this! And Alexis was stunning, what man would shy away from this? He took one final gulp of his wine for courage, then tossed the empty vessel over his shoulder.

“Let’s do it!” he said excitedly, “how should we-“

“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” she said, leaning down to him.

He hissed in surprise as those sharp claws pinched at his clothing, tearing away his shirt with a loud ripping sound. Alexis fought the urge to drool as she saw his chiseled pecs and abs, coated with a light sheen of sweat from the volcano’s heat. She growled lustfully as the flat of her finger traced down his chest, lingering on his stomach as she dug her claw in ever so slightly, not enough to draw blood, but enough that he felt it.

Her finger reached his waist, and the claw ripped through his belt and trousers, easily shredding them and causing them to fall away. His erection sprang up to greet her, and she squealed with delight as her fingers pinned him, her hot breath washing over him as she leaned down for a better look.

“That’s a nice one,” she purred, those slitted eyes focusing on him, “very nice…”

“Uh, thanks,” Brodda said, unsure how to respond.

He started as her forked tongue traced down out of her mouth, long and serpentine, dripping with saliva as it traced up his body. She groaned happily as she tasted him, keeping him pinned with her fingers even as that long tongue snaked around his back, coiling around him like a serpent. He gasped in surprise as her fingers lifted away, leaving his arms free even as his torso was constricted. The tip of her tongue, seemingly satisfied that he was secure, managed to trace it’s way back around to his manhood, and he went tense against his slick and slimy bonds as she began to tease him. His arms shot down, and he tried to get a grip on the thick wet coil of her tongue as he was lifted off the ground.

“A-Alexis?” he asked fearfully. The tongue was slowly drawing him up towards her mouth, even as it teased him. He gulped and had a sudden flashback to his time in the giant harpy’s maw, but Alexis managed to give him a coy wink that calmed him somehow. He heard one final giggle as he was slurped past her lips, and he heard the soft *clack* of her teeth as her jaws sealed him in. Unlike the harpy’s mouth, Alexis’s wasn’t dark, there was a soft orange glow coming from the very back of her throat. It let him see the gleam of her massive teeth like prison bars around him, and the glistening of her tongue. It was almost like a flickering firelight, and he found it bizarrely comforting.

He found himself seizing with pleasure again as her tongue continued to play with him, even as the coils around his chest loosened somewhat. He thrashed as the giant tongue continued to explore him, going up and down his manhood in a slow steady rhythm which it only interrupted to taste the rest of him. Soon Alexis seemed to tire of the teasing, and that amazingly prehensile tongue coiled itself around his erection and began to pump up and down. He shouted against the roof of her mouth, helpless before her as she milked his seed out of him, her low growl reverberating around him as the brightness at the back of her throat seemed to intensify.

When he was well and fully spent, and the tongue could produce no more from him, he heard a soft giggle as she uncoiled him. The lips parted, and the same tongue that had lashed and ravaged him now easily pushed him out, soaked, into her waiting cupped hands. He landed easily in her soft palms, the scaled fingers arcing over him protectively while a very human smile greeted him.

“That was spectacular,” he wheezed, getting to his feet shakily. “I-I’ve never been with a woman who could do something like that!”

“Hmm… you have a wonderful taste,” she said with a smirk, smacking her lips playfully. “Was that a good way to start?”

“S-Start?” he stammered, looking up in awe at her gigantic body. He grinned, standing up in her hands, “If that’s the start, I can’t wait to see the finish!”

“All in due time,” Alexis chuckled. It would be a night to remember, that was to be sure.

…

Morwen had been worried about how her brother would fare with the dragon, he was a strong man, and she was sure that the two would get along fine… but still, she needed something to occupy her thoughts.

She’d have preferred swordplay, but the only other two people around the castle carrying blades had been Albert’s pair of bodyguards, neither man looked up to sparring with someone of her skill. So, with cotton plugs in her ears, she’d taken her rifle and powder horn out to the drilling yard beyond the castle walls.

She felt the kick of the rifle against her shoulder, satisfied as she saw a small hole in the faraway target. With a sigh she set the rifle down and reached for the powder horn to reload. She was rapidly becoming coated in the grit and grime of soldiering, mud caked her boots, and sweat was forming on her brow as she took aim again. There was a boom as she fired, and the wind picked up, coating her with the sulphury white smoke as she peered at her target.

In a nearby tree, concealed amidst the foliage and leaves, she had an audience. Cyrene the harpy, at her normal eight-foot height, sat on a branch peering at the practicing woman with her keen avian eyes. As usual Albert was nestled in the forest of her hair, and at her side the petite court mage balanced precariously on the high branch. With a smirk Cyrene reached around, steadying Meghan and pulling her to her side.

“She likes you, you know,” Cyrene said, her eyes darting up to the tiny king nestled in her hair. “I think she’d be a great candidate.”

“I’m still not sure about this nest-wives thing,” Albert said, “I mean… Meghan, what do you think?”

The court mage squealed, looking down in fear at the long drop to the ground below. In response Cyrene’s arm draped around her, the wing hanging down and shielding her from the wind with her feathers. She sighed, clinging to the harpy in turn as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was suddenly very away of the feeling of that ribbon flapping in the wind.

“I guess…” Meghan looked up at Cyrene, then her eyes drifted a little higher to Albert, “I mean, you guys have put up with a LOT from me, like, most people are chasing me out of their town with pitchforks by now… and you’re seriously asking if I want to share the throne of a kingdom?” she smiled and shrugged, “I guess I’m in, but you can’t kick me out of after this, no matter how many spells I mess up.”

“Sounds fair,” Albert laughed.

“Okay, so that’s one,” Cyrene muttered, releasing Meghan as she stood up.

“W-Where are you going?” Meghan asked, quickly hugging the tree trunk. “Can you get me down from here!?”

Albert shouted in surprise as Cyrene plucked him up out of her hair, “I’m just going to help things along, I’ll come right back!” she explained, grinning down at her tiny liege. The branch shook as she took off, causing Meghan to squeal in fright again.

…

With the cotton stuffed in her ears Morwen didn’t hear the ruffle of the approaching feathers, or even Cyrene’s cheerful greeting as she flew low overhead. She pulled the trigger on the rifle, the gun bucking in her hands and billowing smoke over her, smoke which meant she couldn’t see what it was that dropped suddenly into her shirt’s open top.

She blinked, placing the rifle down again. She reached up and pulled the wadded cotton out of her ears, letting it fall to the ground as she fumbled in her shirt, not sure what she expected to find. She paused, frowning as she felt a very human form gripping her searching hand.

“Albert?” She asked, pulling him out. He was coughing slightly, the smoke from her rifle shot must have hit him full in the face, and like her was now covered in soot and the sweat that had pooled on her breasts over the course of the late afternoon. “What are you doing out here?” she looked around, not seeing anyone, “where did you come from?”

“I flew,” he remarked, looking up at her with a smile. “I’m uh, sorry I fell in your-“

“Oh, no trouble at all,” she said with a smirk, “that’s probably the softest place you could have landed.” She glanced up at the sky, “the harpy seems to have abandoned you, would you like me to take you back to the castle?”

“I’d appreciate that, yes,” he said, scanning the clouds for Cyrene. The harpy had certainly made herself scarce all of a sudden…

“I shall ferry you home at once my liege,” she said with a teasing smile. His eyes went wide as her hand forced him back down into her cleavage, her fingertip forcing his head down until he was fully submerged in the pillowy prison of her sweaty bosom.

The familiar stale and salty taste filled his mouth and nose as he struggled in the dark confines of Morwen’s chest, her sweat enveloping him and making the soft flesh slick against him. He found himself almost… savoring it? He coughed as he squirmed again, causing the giantess overhead to giggle as she walked. He was suddenly very aware of how hard he was, even as his hair became mussed and slick with the grime Morwen was covered in after an afternoon on the drill yard.

This had to be more of the side effects of being small, he reasoned. Being tiny had definitely impacted his thought process, and it made him appreciative of things he was sure wouldn’t interest him at full size… that had to be it, had to be… He grunted in pleasure as Morwen began walking up a set of stairs, the jiggling motion of her breasts beginning to rub against him in a very pleasing way. He decided that if this was some sort of madness being brought on by being small, well, there was nothing to do but enjoy it.

…

“So Cyrene apparently wants us to…” He chuckled at the absurdity of it, not sure how to continue. He’d spent the last few minutes since they’d reached her quarters trying to explain exactly how he’d come to be in her shirt top.

“I think I understand,” Morwen said, sipping a cup of tea. It was an oddly sophisticated gesture for a woman who was covered in sweat and grime and had kicked her boots off, propping her feet up on the same table she’d set Albert on in her quarters. “It’s not crazy, a lot of kings and emperors do the multiple queens thing…” Her mouth quirked, “usually such arrangements are done to secure alliances, lands, titles… I’m afraid I don’t have anything like that.”

“Cyrene…” he shrugged, “I get the feeling that those aren’t things she was thinking about when she proposed it. Just forget the whole thing, I’ll try not to let her bother you about it again-“

“Now hold on,” Morwen said with a small smile over the teacup, “A girl getting her hands on a king isn’t the sort of thing she can just dismiss out of hand, even if there are a few other queens in the mix…” She sipped the tea, seeming to think it over, “on the one hand, a bit of stability in our lives would do both me and my brother some good… I think a royal consort could probably guarantee that, no?”

“After all you two have done?” he laughed, “you can have whatever you want, regardless of what happens between you and I, stay in the castle if you want, spend the kingdom’s gold on wine and music.”

“With our futures secured then,” Morwen mused, staring at the ceiling, “I guess the real question is how do I feel about you?” She smiled down at him, “I do enjoy your company, you seem clever for a royal… You’re cute, I’m guessing you were cute before you got tiny too… probably will be if you ever manage to get big again.”

“I-I will,” he said nervously, “I trust Meghan to-“

Morwen just snorted, “if you want, I can take off my shirt and you can trace your eyes over every reason why nobody should trust a wizard.”

“I do trust her,” he said defensively, “now, anyway…”

Morwen regarded him a moment, “I think you like being that size,” she said with a small grin, “I think that’s why you’re so calm about this whole thing.”

“W-What!?” he exclaimed, “no, it’s been a nightmare to-“

“A real nightmare, I’m sure,” Morwen laughed, “your pet harpy carrying you around and coddling you, tending to your every need, and that little runt of a wizard no doubt plays with you too!” Her bare feet inched closer to Albert, and the wafting ripe scent washed over him. They’d been in her boots all day, and each towered over him. “I couldn’t help but notice you were really excited when you were here earlier,” she traced a finger over her cleavage. “Odd, even when I’m filthy from spending all afternoon in the field… you seem to want to get closer.”

He gulped, not sure what she meant, “I uh-“ he was interrupted by a thud as Morwen uncrossed her legs, placing her feet on either side of him, almost menacingly hovering over him like a pair of sentinels. The smell washed over him, but he almost involuntarily found himself drawn to it, his head going hazy for a moment as the warm musk of Morwen’s feet overpowered his senses.

“What an interesting reaction,” Morwen said playfully. “Now, I am curious, if I were to tell you that in a few seconds, I’m going to press those feet together, would you move?” she grinned, “or would you let yourself get caught between my dirty feet?” She wiggled her toes for emphasis.

Albert stared at them, then sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to move, and a moment later when the slick walls of flesh crashed into him from either side, he heard Morwen laughing uproariously as she pinned him between her soles.

“I knew it!” she said, grinning widely.

She began rubbing her feet together, shifting his body and caking him with her sweat. He gasped as the pressure began rubbing against his erection, trapped within the pants of the doll’s outfit he’d put on earlier. There was a *clink* as she set the teacup down on a nearby saucer, focusing entirely on him as she watched, fascinated, as he struggled against her feet. She rolled them back and forth again, twisting and turning the tiny king’s body.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” she said in a low voice, leaning in, “you’re really an odd sort of man Alfred…” She frowned, watching his straining face as her feet continued to toy with him, “Are you going to-“

He grunted, spasming between her feet as he came in the doll sized trousers. Morwen’s eyes went wide, and she brought a hand to her forehead as she leaned back, laughing loudly again. She kept him pinned, still kneading him back and forth with her feet until he was spent. She parted her feet suddenly, letting him tumble limply to the floor. Lifting her feet off the table, she set them firmly on the floor as she loomed over him.

“Sorry about that,” she said, biting her lower lip, “I had a suspicion you liked it when a girl maybe… pushed you around a little, but I didn’t mean to make you-“

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, blinking as he forced himself to his feet. “That was… that was” he laughed, “I think you’ve got me figured out, maybe more than I do myself.” He glanced down at his clothes, now covered in her sweat and dirt, and with a notable wet spot on the crotch. “I wonder how many dolls are in that old storage room,” he muttered, “I’m running through clothing at an alarming pace..."

“Well strip those ones off,” Morwen chuckled, “and let me draw us a bath, we both need it… while we soak, we can discuss your harpy-queen’s proposal.”

He frowned, “you mean you-“

“I’m not saying yes,” she said with a smirk, “but… I’m not saying no either.”

…

In a town in the shadow of the volcano, a man stumbled down the street. He was covered head to toe in soot and ash, and his hair was blown back like he’d looked into a blast furnace. While he had a clean and pressed shirt on, it was backwards, and it gave the man air of madness as he whistled a happy tune.

He managed to get to the town’s blacksmith, leaning against the doorframe as the man inside paused his hammering.

“W-What can I do for you, stranger?” The blacksmith gulped, “are okay sir?”

“I’m fine,” Brodda rasped, grinning. Gods, he’d never been so thirsty… “Just didn’t get much sleep last night.” He looked over the shop, “I need to commission some jewelry, a necklace, earrings maybe…”

“That’s more a job for a jeweler,” the smith said uncomfortably.

“No, trust me, a job this size needs a proper smith,” Brodda laughed. His eyes were drawn to a circular shield hanging on the wall, “Dragonslayer” written across it in a fine golden script while brassy dragon motifs swirled below. “Also give me that,” he said, “and scratch off the s.”

Albert watched from his place on the table while Meghan mixed the potions, humming happily to herself. As when she’d first made the potion that had shrank him and made Cyrene into an unstoppable colossus, the flasks and flames danced to her whims as she twirled her fingers in time.

The two of them were alone in Meghan’s lab, the petite mage having finally come up with a solution to his small size… or at least that’s what she’d told him. Albert was, at this point, fairly certain of her loyalties, though he still wondered about her ability.

“I’ve been reading a lot,” Meghan said, closing a book and setting it on the table, “I think that an antidote potion is the wrong move.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t get the chance to brew one then,” Albert said, “what would THAT have done to me?”

“Diarrhea maybe?” Meghan said with a shrug, “not every magic potion backfires in a spectacular way, sometimes you just get a little sick.” She moved around the table, grabbing one of Cyrene’s shed feathers. Albert couldn’t help but notice that it was almost as long as Meghan’s arm, likely coming off the harpy when she was enlarged. “Look at this,” she explained, “I soaked this down in an antidote potion, nothing. I think that the dark lord’s strength potion might be… permanent.”

He gulped, considering the implications. Being small had certainly given him a new perspective, and he doubted he’d have had the success he enjoyed now at his old size. Morwen had definitely been right, he did enjoy being overpowered and played with too, and part of him had almost wanted to stay this size, but… permanent?

Meghan was quiet a minute, seeing his expression, “I’ve got another solution,” she said quietly. “Or, I think I do anyway…” She sighed, “It could backfire and fry you though… I’m going to try it on someone else first.”

“Who?” he asked, “we don’t WANT Cyrene cured, and there’s no one else-“

“Me,” Meghan said, holding a flask of the purple strength potion. “I’m going to take the same potion that shrank you, then I’ll try my fix out, that way we’ll know it’s safe.”

His eyes went wide, “Meghan!” he exclaimed, “you don’t have to do that, just let me try it-“

“Nope,” She said with a sigh, “I…” she chuckled, “wow, I don’t know what to say Al, after all the stuff I put you through, you’re wanting to take this arrow for me.”

“I’m sure it will work fine,” Albert insisted, “or, if you’re worried… we can just put it off, wait until you understand things better!” He gave a forced smile, “I’m fine being small a little longer, or however long it takes.”

“You know people fear me back home,” Meghan said, eyeing the potion, almost in a trance, “Not like they fear someone who’s powerful, more like how you fear a tornado or a flood, like ‘oh, here comes Meghan’ then they take shelter or call the guard or whatever…” She looked down at him and shrugged, “I’ve been as much of a disaster for you guys as anyone else, but you’re not chasing me out… It just doesn’t seem right to make you the subject of another experiment.”

“Meghan-“ he started, but she was already drinking the potion down.

“Wow,” She muttered, clutching her head as her robes got looser, “w-was it so disorienting for you?” She looked at him, almost pleadingly, “Al?” her robes billowed around her, causing her to vanish as the blue fabric fell to the floor. He watched as a small lump moved in the pooled wizard’s attire on the floor, and he sighed, wishing she’d talked this over with him first.

“O-Okay,” the court mage muttered as she crawled, naked, out of her own sleeve, “We know it works the same every time, that’s something I guess…” Meghan looked around the room wide eyed, her mouth going dry, “this is a lot more intimidating than I expected,” she said weakly.

“You’re lucky!” he shouted down, “you don’t have a treasonous court mage playing games with you right after you shrank!”

“I said I’m sorry for the treason!” she snapped, “I’m super loyal now!”

“I know,” he said, fighting a smile as he rolled his eyes, “but you’re also down on the floor. Which one of these vials is your proposed antidote?”

Meghan hugged the oversized hem of her robe against herself, protecting long gone modesty as her face went red. With one final look at him she released it, letting the collar of her blue robe fall and revealing her petite and naked form. With a blush, and a smile, she walked to a table on the far side of the room.

“It’s uh… it’s up there,” she said with a smile. “Do you think you could get to it?”

“I’m not even sure I can get down from here!” he shouted, “why didn’t you put it on the floor!?”

Meghan’s face went red, “I… I didn’t think this far ahead, okay?” Albert rolled his eyes and she scowled, “Hey! I’m not the king!” she protested, “you should have asked these questions before I shrank myself!”

“Fine,” he said, “whatever, so what do we do now?”

There was a sudden knock on the door. Both of them looked to it suddenly, then began shouting for help. The doorknob turned, and they saw Morwen’s curious face in the crack, peering in before opening the door fully.

“Albert?” she called, stepping into the room. There was a squishing sound as her boots made contact with the stone floor, the mud leaving a track.

Albert sighed, “Morwen!” he called, “Take those off when you come back from drilling!”

She noticed him, “Albert!” she said happily, “Cyrene told me the mage had taken you down here, no doubt for some horrifying experiment.” She glanced down, seeing her muddy boots. With a grimace she glanced backwards, seeing the trail of footprints she’d left. “Sorry,” she muttered as she lifted her feet out of her boots, revealing sweat stained footwraps.

Meghan walked towards the other woman without thinking. Waving her hands, she realized a moment later that Morwen didn’t see her, and terror enveloped her as the stale sweaty odor of a pair of giant feet washed over her. She screamed, a small squeaking sound, as the white fabric coating Morwen’s foot overcame her.

“Morwen,” Albert began, “Meghan was just-“ he was cut off by a squeal then a crunching noise as the former bandit stepped forward. He looked down in horror at Morwen’s feet, then up at her face. “LIFT YOUR FOOT AT ONCE!” he shouted, proud of how his voice carried.

…

“Knowledge,” Meghan said dizzily, laying recovering on her own alchemy table, “we’ve gained knowledge…” She forced herself to glance up at Morwen and grinned, “N-Now we know that if you’ve had the potion, you’re much more durable!” She gulped, “even if you get squished by a sweaty foot…”

“I don’t know,” Morwen said with a twisted grin, “maybe we should try it again?”

“It could be good for data,” Meghan said, sitting up. Morwen just frowned at the response, “Perhaps next time you would wear a boot or other-“

“Albert,” Morwen said, turning away from her to the other small human on the table, “Why is the mage small?”

“She had a proposed solution to my own size issues,” he explained, “and she wanted to try it first, so… she did this to herself.”

“I do like it so far,” Morwen said, leering down at the tiny Meghan, who gulped nervously. “So wizard, where is your fix for this?”

“O-Over there,” Meghan said, pointing to the far table. “The bracelet.” Morwen picked up a simple gold band with a clasp, eyeing it curiously. “It’s an enchantment disrupter,” Meghan explained, “they use them over in the Empire if they’re arresting a mage for something.” She grinned, “they don’t work too well on me, I’m too strong for them I think.”

“And how did you get this one?” Morwen asked with a frown.

“I got arrested,” Meghan said without a pause, “I would think someone with your background would understand. Here, lower it down.”

Morwen placed the gold bracelet down to Meghan, who eagerly touched it. There was a brief spark, then she was stretching, growing, crowing with triumph as her full sized and naked form sat on the table, her legs dangling over the side happily.

“It worked!” she said, “Look Al!” she said, pointing to it, “just touch one of these, and you’re full size again! It was so simple!” sparks danced along her fingers, “looks like I can still cast with this thing on, that’s good…” she muttered.

Albert looked at it, intrigued. Wearing a bracelet to be full size… yes, he could do that, and another part of him was excited at the prospect of being small whenever he wanted as well. He returned Meghan’s eager gaze until Morwen coughed.

“So where’s Albert’s?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Right here,” Meghan said obliviously, pointing to the bracelet.

“Okay,” Morwen said, sighing and rubbing her temples, “Meghan, we now have TWO people that need those, do you have another one?”

“Oh gods no,” Meghan laughed, “I only have this one because I got… detained. They’re actually pretty hard to come by.”

“Lovely,” Morwen chuckled. She clasped Meghan’s hand, causing the smaller woman to squeal in surprise, “Sorry, but I think the king takes priority, you’re going to be a very tiny wizard-“

“We can switch off,” Albert said, “but…” he smiled up at Morwen, “I would like to try at least ONE court meeting at full size.”

…

Cyrene’s fingers ran through his hair, scratching his head slightly. He’d hoped for a more dignified appearance in his court, and people had certainly been surprised to see him at his normal stature, and Meghan at her new shrunken size, but now, seated on Cyrene’s lap he didn’t have the regal and kingly demeanor he’d hoped. Still, she seemed happy with how things had turned out.

“Look at her!” Cyrene giggled, balancing a trembling Meghan on her hands, “she’s so cute!”

“B-Be careful!” Meghan whimpered, “come on, you don’t do this stuff with Al when he’s tiny!”

“No comment,” the king said in an amused tone.

The mage was dressed in the puffy pink ballroom style doll’s dress. Cyrene didn’t seem to understand human fashion very well, and had been trying to get Albert to wear it for days now. Seeing Meghan in it, looking very much like a delicate princess in spite of her short haircut, seemed to delight the harpy.

“I’ll just put you somewhere safe,” Cyrene giggled, lifting Meghan up to Albert’s usual place among her fiery red hair.

“So then,” Albert began with a smile, “tell me about our strategy to defeat the Lich.”

“Your majesty,” Sines said with an excited grin, “he’s already been defeated!”

Albert frowned, “I beg your pardon?”

“A brave warrior named Lady Alarica used a mix of magic and swordplay to storm his fortress, where she slew him in personal combat! The nobles are already gathering around her and heeding her orders. She marches to the castle with her followers, and she’s declared she will have your hand in marriage!”

Albert blinked, trying to take it all in, “the same nobles who have ignored all of my requests for men, who refuse to even meet with me? They’re flocking to this woman?”

“It would appear so, your grace,” Sines said, a frown coming over his features, “it is… rather odd.”

“I will not have my hand in marriage demanded,” he barked angrily, “not after all I’ve been through, and besides, Cyrene is going to be my queen.” He jerked a thumb back at the harpy.

“The nobles will not care to hear that you’ve spurned their choice for a monster,” Sines said hesitantly.

“Hey, I’ll gladly fight anyone who thinks they can lay a hand on my husband without permission,” Cyrene said angrily. “I’ve already picked him out some nest-wives, and we’re full!”

“Er… nest-wives?” Sines said with a frown, “my liege, crown law does demand a human queen.”

“Does this kingdom allow the king to have multiple wives?” Albert asked in a tired voice.

“I suppose,” Sines said, brow furrowing, “that is to say, legally speaking it’s allowed, but a king hasn’t had more than one in-“

“Great, Cyrene, do you care if I shuffle the marriage order around a bit and marry Meghan first?”

“I guess not,” the harpy said with a frown, “I mean… why not just marry all three of us at once?”

“Three?” Brodda asked with a chuckle, “who else have you roped into this-“

“I’ll wear a dress for the ceremony,” Morwen called from behind her brother, “but you won’t get me into those high heeled monstrosities the fine ladies wear, boots for me.”

Brodda’s eyes went wide, “Morwen, are you sure you want to-“

“I think so,” She said with a wink at Albert, “I think we’ve got a good thing going here, and I want to ride it straight to the top.” She slugged her brother in the arm playfully, “besides, you can demand another estate from him now, you’ll need it right? I hear you’ve got a very big mouth to feed.”

“Yes, true,” Brodd murmured, “I’m supposed to meet her in a field later actually…”

“And there you have it Sines, a human queen on the throne,” Albert said tersely. “Now then, am I fully within all of my legal rights to tell this woman to go to hell?”

“I’m pretty sure we can beat her if she wants to fight about it,” Brodda said, “we’ve got guns, a mage, a giant harpy, and a dragon. I daresay the Lich is lucky they got to him first.”

“Well then,” Albert said, looking over his advisors, “tell her I respectfully decline her offer, and that if she wishes we can discuss some manner of monetary reward.” He sighed happily, “Now, since the kingdom is saved, I think I’ll spend the rest of the day relaxing.”

…

“So I just snap this off,” Cyrene asked, holding Albert up by one arm and eyeing the bracelet, “and you’re teeny tiny again?”

Cyrene hadn’t wasted any time after his comment about “relaxing,” and the eight-foot harpy had practically frog marched him back up to the bedroom, eagerly lifting him and the doll-sized Meghan up into her nest to “celebrate” their victory.

The harpy had a mischievious grin, and Albert just rolled his eyes and chuckled as that taloned hand reached for the bracelet, popping it off with a click. The world spun as he seemed to compress inwards, his body tumbling through the air as he returned to the tiny form he realized was his new normal.

“I’ll just put this over here for safekeeping,” Cyrene said, leaving the bracelet on the nest’s edge, “I do like it, it’s nice and shiny…” She giggled as she leaned over them, “Albert, go take Meghan’s dress off.”

He gingerly walked towards Meghan, who looked very silly in the doll’s dress. Slowly he pulled it down over her shoulders, causing the petite girl to shiver slightly at his touch. She was looking over him, blushing, while she’d certainly seen, and played with, his naked body before, she’d always been a relative giant when she’d done so.

Cyrene bit her lip, “I’ve got an idea… you two start.” She gestured enthusiastically, and with a shrug and quick grin at Meghan, the two of them lay down. He held Meghan in his arms as she looked up at him in wonder, and then at the giant harpy behind him.

“Oh gods,” she squeaked, “I really didn’t think this through…” she gulped and looked back to him, “I-I’m going to be tiny with you, forever…”

“When we’re not wearing those bracelets,” he said softly, “but it’s not so bad… are you ready?”

Her face went red and she giggled, “yeah…”

He entered her, causing both of them to gasp as he began a slow series of thrusts. It almost felt odd to be making love to a woman like this, after being their toy for so long, and he moaned into Meghan’s hair as he picked up speed and her hips bucked against his.

Cyrene’s tongue came up his back suddenly, startling him and coating his naked body in her saliva. He tried not to let it impact his rhythm, but the giant harpy’s giggle was beginning to distract him. Meghan’s eyes were wide as she looked over his shoulder, and she realized that a taloned hand was scooping the pair up before he did.

“Just pretend I’m not even here!” she said, her massive face leaning in close to examine them. In spite of her instruction Albert couldn’t stop himself from peering over the edge of her hand to her. Cyrene scowled, “seriously, focus on her Albert! I’ll be ready for both of you in a minute!” His eyes tranced down her torso to where her other hand was fingering herself slowly. He gulped as he tried to imagine what she had in store “in a minute.”

“Hey!” Meghan said, her arms wrapping around him, “you heard her! Keep going!”

Cyrene watched lustfully as her pair of human toys continued to mate on her hand. She giggled, enjoying the thought of making the tiny couple perform this dance for her pleasure… yes, humans had their plays, their operas, but Cyrene was already imagining a new entertainment, one that would be performed exclusively for her…

She lifted her free hand to her face, seeing it glisten with her juices. She crowed excitedly, knowing she was finally wet enough for what she wanted to do. She began lowering the pair, even as Albert thrust into a moaning Meghan, who was scratching his back eagerly. The king noticed the movement, and looked at her again.

“Hey!” Cyrene called, “come on, eyes on her! Don’t worry about what I’m doing!”

Albert obeyed again, focusing on Meghan as he pulled the woman closer to him. Suddenly they were inverted, gripped by Cyrene’s hand and forced up into her waiting pussy. Albert cried out in shock as the wet ring of muscle lowered over his head, shoulders, arms, and with him Meghan’s. With a slick popping sound, they were both easily forced inside the giant harpy, and the undulating muscle around them easily held the two lovers in place.

“Come on!” Meghan whined into his shoulder, “I’m almost there!”

With a mental shrug he kept going, the movements of their bodies now stimulating the walls of the enormous womanhood that had devoured them whole mid-coitus. Cyrene toyed with her clit, sighing happily as her humans stimulated her, even as they mated with each other.

All three of them were close, and as Cyrene’s walls squeezed them close together, Meghan came first, a high mewling scream that a cackling Cyrene could hear even from outside. Albert was next, and then finally Cyrene herself, that final forceful push of her walls smashing the tiny lovers together and causing both of them to go weak with pleasure as their sensitive post-orgasm bodies collided once more.

Cyrene’s hand drifted down, not to retrieve the pair, but to hold her hand over her opening, keeping the two trapped in her for just a little longer. She sighed and leaned back in the nest, folding her other arm behind her head and causing her red feathers to fan around her. Having one tiny human to play with had been fun… having two? Cyrene fought a laugh, life was good.

…

“He said NO?” Alarica hissed, looking around the campaign tent at the assembled nobles.

“His majesty has cordially invited you to discuss an… alternative reward,” a fat man with a moustache explained weakly. “He claims he’s already betrothed to two women… and a harpy evidently.” He stroked his facial hair a moment, “We’re not sure if it’s a joke or-“

“Then I’ll simply force him when we arrive,” Alarica said angrily. She peered over the men, who seemed to shrink away from her. She was an imposing figure, with raven hair and ice blue eyes, strong arms, and a sword half as thick as her torso slung over her back. From the blue fire that unconsciously danced at her fingertips, the men could tell the blade wasn’t the most dangerous thing about her. She scowled and threw back her black fur cloak, “Gather the men, he was left with but two soldiers, was he not? It should be a trivial matter to-“

“The king has restored the royal army,” another noble said uncertainly. “And he’s acquired the services of a powerful mage, and some manner of gigantic beastfolk.”

“How?” she asked angrily, “he had no gold!”

“He’s richer than all of us now,” one man muttered, “his tax collectors saw to that!”

“Tax collectors?” Alarica shrieked. “He has not even been on the throne a month! You assured me that after the old king was dealt with, that you would cripple the crown, leave it simply waiting for me!” She glared at them, “who is behind this? His chancellor?”

“Sines?” one of the nobles laughed, “we left that old bastard there to hobble him! He’s not even in on our plan, but we figured he’d do more than enough damage-“

“Gentlemen,” the spellsword said in a husky tone, “When we all entered into this pact, we all had certain… expectations of one another.” She gave a sickly-sweet smile, “I believe my end of our arrangement was upheld, I defeated your lich, I killed your tyrannical king, and I even managed to get a few orders sent that got the old royal army scattered against a paltry gang of bandits.” She gave an exaggerated sigh, “now in exchange for these favors, you were supposed to provide me with a cute little king to marry, a boytoy to play with while I saved the throne from the calamity.” She rolled her eyes angrily, “all you really had to do was keep the realm unstable until I was ready to seize it.”

“W-We tried!” a man in a fine red coat insisted, “we made sure nobody marshaled armies against the bandits, we refused the king’s calls for aid, we left him with nothing but a pair of babysitters and a corrupt old fool!”

She reached out and gripped the man’s jaw, and the rest watched in horror as his mouth opened in a silent scream. His flesh seemed to warp and rot, melting away until nothing but a dusty skeleton in the man’s robes remained. She released the vertebrae, causing the bones to fall to the tent’s floor with a clattering sound.

The nobles looked on in horror backing away as Alarica scanned the crowd, “I can’t be the greatest queen in history if some brat already saved the kingdom!” she shouted, cowing them. She sighed, forcing herself to be calm as the fire dancing around her fingers subsided. “I WILL be his queen,” she growled, “and I will not be sharing him or my throne!”

“W-What do you suggest we do?” whimpered the fat man again.

“He may have blundered his way into a position of strength, but he’s still just a miller’s boy in over his head,” She snapped, “alone he is nothing, but at the same time you fools have let him become the key to everything… I will simply have to pull some of this lion’s teeth.” She smiled, “continue marching for the castle.”

…

Albert watched from the ramparts as Alarica’s supporters paraded below. The knights in their regalia certainly looked impressive, a far cry from his own often dirty troops in their brown uniforms.

“Don’t be intimidated by that,” Brodda said quietly behind him, “I could have a line of our boys form up and they’d blow that entire cavalry column to kingdom come.”

“I don’t want to fight them,” he murmured.

“I don’t either,” Brodda said, patting him on the back and smiling, “but if they start pushing, remember that you’re the bigger man.”

“I’ve always been uncommonly short,” Albert muttered, looking at the gold bracelet Meghan was letting him use.

Brodda rolled his eyes, “metaphor Albert, metaphor…” he scowled as he saw the nobles riding in the back, “and truth be told, you’ve done more for this kingdom in a month than that lot has in their whole lives.”

…

“Lady Alarica,” he greeted from his throne. “I’m pleased to hear of your victory over the dread lich Ponteferus, however, as I explained in my letter, I cannot accept your marriage proposal.”

The black cloaked woman smiled and bowed, “Of course, I understand your majesty, though perhaps I may stay for your marriage ceremonies? I’ve brought much plunder from the lich’s fortress, as a gift for you…”

Several men dragged chests forward, enormous things half the size of carriages. Albert wasn’t a greedy king, but his eyes went wide as he looked at the long line of them. One was opened, allowing him to gaze at the gold and jewels inside. His mouth went dry thinking of the projects that wealth could finance, his coffers were full to be sure, but with that money… he had a sudden image of aqueducts, every village with an aqueduct...

“With your permission, my men will bring the rest of the treasure inside the walls,” Alarica said, her steely blue eyes gleaming.

“Of course,” Albert said, waving the men in.

…

“I don’t like her,” Morwen said, leaning against the wall.

“She’s definitely a high-class magic user,” Meghan pondered, her finger tracing the gold bracelet, “like, she’s just radiating energy.”

“I’m sure that after you three are crowned tomorrow she’ll be on her way,” Albert said dismissively. “She probably hoped to get an easy in to being a queen, and now that it’s closed, she’ll go do something else. A woman like that is probably already getting high bounty monster slaying offers.” He stretched, letting Cyrene’s hair coil around him as he reclined on her head. “We’ve won, we can let our guard down just a little.” He grinned, “what do you three want to do tonight?”

“There are some really shiny fish that only come out at night in the castle moat,” Cyrene said eagerly, “I’m going to catch one!”

Albert blinked, “I uh… well, all right.”

“I’m going to go check and see if the Krotonomicon was with the plunder,” Meghan said, “seriously guys, it has a spell for walking skeletons! Imagine skeleton butlers for the whole castle!”

“Oh, my poor liege,” Morwen said with a mocking smile, “I’ll keep you company tonight.” She reached up and pulled him out of the harpy’s tangled hair.

…

Alarica strolled through the castle like the fox in the hen house. The king would certainly be getting married tomorrow, that was for certain, but not to those three trollops. No, she’d liked the look of him, and the matter with his shrinking… well, when she had him, he’d spend little if any time at his normal size. No, he’d squirm in her boots, perhaps fight feebly in her cleavage… The idea had excited her, how had she never thought of it before? Shrinking a man… She’d have to find out more about what potion the little whelp of a mage had used.

The object of her thoughts was pawing through the material she’d brought with her from the Lich’s fortress, and with a grin Alarica sized the younger mage up. Meghan was strong, and Alarica fought down a bit of surprise as her ethereal feelers brushed over the oblivious spellcaster. This girl had the potential to be an archmage, it was no wonder she’d been able to brew potions that, for most wizards, simply bubbled impotently…

A power source, Alarica decided, Meghan the mage would make a fine power source once that rotten lump between her ears was scooped out. For now though, she just needed the little wizard gone…

“Impressive haul, isn’t it?” Alarica said with a friendly smile. “I just wish I’d gotten the Krotonomicon…”

“Wait,” Meghan said suddenly, “i-it’s not here?”

“No,” Alarica said with a sigh, “It was protected by a spell I didn’t understand, so I left it back at the lich’s fortress.”

“Really!?” Meghan said, practically bouncing, “c-could it still be there?”

“Almost certainly,” Alarica said, “someone of your strength could probably break the spell seal though and-“

“I’m going to go get it now!” Meghan said, scurrying out of the room.

Alarica chuckled and rolled her eyes. The lich’s fortress would take the fool of a mage a good week to reach, the absent-minded girl wouldn’t even realize she’d been tricked until she got there and found nothing.

…

Cyrene stood on the castle rampart, her avian eyes following the sliver flashes in the moonlight. She cut an impressive figure, the giant harpy silhouetted on the top of the castle, and she stretched her wings in anticipation of a dive.

“I’m going to catch you tasty fishy,” she said aloud, “then everyone’s going to have a nice fresh breakfast…”

“Oh, there you are,” Alarica called.

Cyrene turned to see Albert, hand in hand with the spellsword.

“Oh,” Cyrene said uncomfortably, hopping off the rampart, “hi Alarica, what are you and Albert doing-“

“I’ve decided I don’t want you here,” Albert said, waving dismissively.

Cyrene blinked, and she hugged her feathered wings close, “W-What?” she whispered.

“You helped me out, that much is true,” Albert said, “but… well, you’re a monster Cyrene, and after some discussion with Lady Alarica here, I’ve decided that I need a proper queen.”

“B-But,” Cyrene stuttered, tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Out,” Albert said with another wave, “shoo, begone monster!”

Stunned, Cyrene spread her wings and took off, flying silently into the night sky as she fought to keep herself from crying.

“Beastfolk are so easily manipulated,” Alarica muttered, the fake Albert at her side vanishing as the illusion wore off.

…

Cyrene didn’t make it far before she noticed Meghan, running along the cobbled road far below. With a frown she swooped down, wondering if the mage had been expelled too. Meghan was practically skipping, so Cyrene didn’t think she’d been kicked out of the castle… She landed alongside her friend.

“Cyrene!” Meghan said excitedly, eyes wide, “oh this is perfect, you can fly me there in a few hours!”

“Huh?” Cyrene asked, still confused.

“The lich’s old fortress,” Meghan said, exasperated, “come on, just fly me there Cyrene, turn big and…” she gulped, “I mean… I guess flying’s the best way to get there, so just do it!”

“Uh, okay,” Cyrene said curiously. Lightning crackled along her wings as she started to grow.

…

Albert sighed, leaning back and relaxing in the steaming teacup as though it were a warm bath. Morwen’s giant face loomed over him, a smug grin on her face as she gently plopped a sugar cube in with him.

“Normally I don’t have this stuff in my tea,” she said, swirling it around him, “too expensive… I can see why the nobility likes it though, sweet tea…” she chuckled, “I’ll go soft from all of this luxury.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Alfred said, pushing back against her spoon as she stirred the tea. He frowned, looking around at the tea set, “this stuff all looks very nice…”

“This castle is full of things nobody uses,” Morwen said, “and since I’m going to be one of your queens, I decided it’s as good as mine.”

“Once a bandit…” he teased.

She reached down and plucked him out of the teacup, the warm liquid running down his body as he shivered from the sudden cold. He kicked in the air as she dangled him by one arm, slowly lowering him into her waiting mouth.

“Mmm…” she moaned, sucking the sweet tea off him as he grunted in pleasure. Her tongue had snaked up between his legs and was toying with him, licking at his erection and causing him to spasm as her lips locked around his torso.

Her lips parted and released him, “I want to play a game,” she giggled, “an evil game…”

“Uhh…” he looked at her playful expression and felt his lust rising, “O-Okay, I’m in.”

Morwen reached under the table and came up with an hourglass, a moment later she slammed her boot on the table. Albert grimaced as he looked at it, mud was still caked on the bottom, and the strong odor of her feet wafted from the opening. She bit her lip, fighting down a laugh at his reaction.

“I’m going to turn this hourglass over,” she explained, “and if I can make you finish before it’s done… then I’m going to put you in that boot,” she pointed to it, standing stiffly over him like a foreboding hangman’s tree, “and I’m going to take a walk around the castle!”

“Oh gods,” he muttered, his eyes going wide.

“If you can hold out though,” Morwen mused, “we stay here, and I’ll be a loyal subject, and do whatever you order for the rest of the night.” She smiled at him, enjoying his expression as his eyes wandered back and forth from her face to her boot. “If the thought intrigues so much,” she said in a low voice, “you can always ask for the boot ride if you win too…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, blood rushed to his groin at the thought, and he had to blink and steady himself. This was side effects of the potion, he reminded himself, it HAD to be… Why else would the idea of being shoved in Morwen’s filthy boots, with her sweaty toes curling above and teasing-

“Are you ready?” Morwen asked, interrupting his thoughts. Without waiting for him to answer, she flipped the hourglass over.

Her hand came for him first, easily knocking him down onto the wooden table. He was still slick with her saliva, and as her fingers began pumping him, they slid easily over his shaft, the tiny motions of her fingers making him realize instantly that he had no chance.

“Wow,” Morwen chuckled, watching him spasm, “looks like my toes are getting some company.” She mockingly put a hand over her mouth, “does the idea… excite his majesty?”

“M-Maybe,” he admitted with a grunt.

“There’s no maybe about it,” she laughed, glancing at the hourglass, “you’re going to be my little toy for the evening…” a smile crossed her features, “forever, actually… I mean think about it, you’re foolishly giving me a crown, any time I get grimy drilling the soldiers, or go hunting, or even just take a nice summer ride, I’ll have a little king to come back and play with.”

“Oh gods,” he moaned as she picked up speed.

“Maybe now and then I’ll let you use Meghan’s bracelet to serve your bandit-queen at your full size,” she mused, “you could put those fingers to work rubbing my feet, then when you’re done, off it comes and then it’s a game of cat and mouse that you’ll always lose…” she raised an eyebrow as he cried out, his cum starting to coat her fingers as she finished bringing him off, “one that I don’t think you even want to win,” she said with a grin.

…

Brodda took a moment to look in the mirror, combing his hair one last time. With a sigh and a smile he got up, eager for his late night rendezvous with Alexis. He’d be back before morning, he was sure, and it wasn’t like he needed to be particularly well rested for Albert’s wedding. He opened the door to his room, and cried out in shock as a dozen men with swords stormed in, grabbing his arms and gagging him even as he swung his fists and tried to escape.

…

Cyrene lowered herself down over the barren and blasted “deadlands” in the southern part of the kingdom. She didn’t know much about them, but Meghan was ranting about “stray necromantic energies,” even as Cyrene returned the mage to the ground and shrank back down to her normal size.

“So pretty much this place has always been a hot spot for people looking to use darker magics,” Meghan said, staring up at an imposing looking castle. “We’re probably the only living people around for miles.” She grinned, waving Cyrene to follow her, “come on! We’ve got to find that spellbook.”

Cyrene stalked behind her, her eyes darting about for threats. The whole place was oddly still, and the only sound besides their footsteps on the large stone staircase to the castle was a mournfully howling wind. Meghan pushed the castle’s large wooden door open with a grunt, struggling against it’s weight.

“So he’d probably keep in the central keep-“ Meghan began.

“WHAT MORTAL FOOL DARES DISTURB PONTEFORUS,” a sinister and gravelly voice called.

Meghan and Cyrene gasped as a pair of blue flames appeared in the darkness, gazing out from a white corpselike face, grinning evilly.

“It’s the Lich!” Meghan screamed in fear, “he’s still alive!”

Cyrene shouted a battle cry, taking off and flying through the air. Her talons swiped out, carving into the figure with a deep raking attack that would have gored a man. The lich made a sound similar to a scream, and then collapsed into a pile of bones and cloth.

Meghan blinked, “wow, that guy did not live up to the hype.”

Cyrene fluttered back down to the ground, a few red feathers falling around her. Meghan poked at the lich’s robes with her boot, frowning.

“There’s an enchantment on this stuff,” she muttered. “Wait here.”

Meghan sprinted back to the door, closing it and entering again.

“WHAT MORTAL FOOL DARES DISTURB PONTEFORUS,” the voice echoed again, and as if on puppet strings the corpse lifted again, the blue fires in it’s eye sockets bursting to life.

“He’s fake,” Meghan said, walking back to Cyrene and examining the illusion. “Someone had him rigged up to act all scary whenever anyone opened that door.”

“So where’s the real Ponteforus?” Cyrene asked.

“Gods only know,” Meghan muttered, her finger running along the skeleton’s robe. She froze, “I know this magic.” She looked up at Cyrene in shock, “really powerful mages leave a kind of… essence on anything they do, sometimes we can tell when one of us has been somewhere days, weeks, after we left… this thing, this is Alarica’s!”

“Why would she want to make a fake lich?” Cyrene asked.

“Because she wanted everyone to think she killed a terrifying monster,” Meghan said, rubbing her chin, “I don’t know if there ever WAS a lich, look around, do you see any zombies or skeletons? This place is empty!” She scowled, “we’ve got to tell Al, she doesn’t deserve a damn penny for clearing this place out!”

“I don’t know if I’m going back,” Cyrene said softly, “Albert… he said he doesn’t want me around anymore.”

Meghan’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What? That’s ridiculous, Al loves you! He’d throw away the whole kingdom if it meant he couldn’t be with you!”

“That’s not what he said,” she muttered quietly.

“Wait a minute,” Meghan muttered, looking at the brass bracelet that was allowing her to be full size, “Cyrene, was Al big, or was he tiny?”

“He was his normal human size,” Cyrene said, “why?”

“How could he be normal size if I have the bracelet?” Meghan asked, pointing to it.

Cyrene’s eyes went wide as the realization dawned on her, “Alarica,” she snarled, energy crackling along her wings as she started to grow.

“Uh, hey, be careful about doing that in here!” Meghan said as the harpy’s head touched the stone ceiling. There was a crashing noise, and debris fell around her as the stone gave way before the furious harpy. The starlit sky was revealed as the structure gave way, and Cyrene spread her wings like an angel of vengeance as she screamed angrily. “Oh boy,” Meghan muttered as the harpy reached down to pick her up, “someone’s in trouble…”

…

“Ready for your punishment?” Morwen asked smugly.

Albert was resting on her heaving chest as she lay in the bed. She hadn’t put him in her boot yet, opting instead to give him a few moments to recover.

“Are you going to at least scrub me down afterwards?” he asked with a smile, “I can’t go to the ceremony tomorrow smelling like your rank feet.”

“If the king goes to an event smelling like feet, soon everyone will do it,” Morwen teased, “but… yes, you’ll get a bath, I’m looking forward to it.”

Their conversation was cut off as the door to the room creaked open. Alarica stood there in the doorway, her massive sword over her shoulder and a triumphant grin on her face.

“I’m afraid the king’s wedding has been moved up to tonight,” she said, walking into the room.

Morwen frowned as she sat up, placing Albert on the bed behind her, “I don’t know who you think you are,” Morwen snarled, “but-“

She was cut off as the other woman’s hand shot out, gripping her throat. Alarica laughed menacingly as she began the life drain spell, preparing herself for the savory sweet feeling of the woman’s energies flowing into her. She frowned, only a few sparks dancing up her arm, that wasn’t right!

Morwen’s fist came around and caught her square in the jaw, causing Alarica to drop her and stumble backwards in shock. Her eyes went wide as Morwen howled with fury, a sword appearing in her hand. Before Alarica could respond, Morwen drove it through her stomach, driving back and pinning her against the very door she’d entered through.

“That blade of yours might be for show spellsword!” Morwen rasped, “but mine isn’t!” she backed away, gasping as the adrenaline left her. She turned down to Albert, “are you okay?”

“M-Morwen,” he rasped, pointing to the door.

Alarica grappled with the blade, slowly pulling it out of herself, unpinning her body from the door. She stood up, regarding the blade curiously for a moment, then letting it drop to the floor with a clatter. She gave a toothy grin to Morwen as she rolled her head back and forth, cracking her neck. Blue flames began to dance around her cruel eyes, as she reached over her shoulder and drew her own broadsword.

“It seems we both underestimated each other,” she said, taking a step forward. Her voice had grown warped, distorted, like it was bubbling up from a fetid bog.

“Albert,” Morwen hissed, reaching for her rifle, “hide!”

…

Brodda groaned as another of the fat lordlings punched him across the jaw, the rest of his fellows guffawing as the noblemen gathered around the captured former bandit. They had him tied in the courtyard, and as they drank and celebrated their success, they entertained themselves by striking the feared outlaw.

He swore under his breath as another one took his turn, kicking him squarely in the shin. If he could only signal his men, they’d run these cowards and their knights out of the castle at bayonet point… He winced as another man approached.

There was a roar from somewhere overhead, and the flapping of leathern wings. The nobles and their levies paused their torment, scanning the sky nervously. They all went wide eyed as a massive burst of flame lit up a cloud, and a moment later the ground shook as the hundred twenty foot dragoness peered over the castle walls into the courtyard.

“BRODDA!” she howled angrily, “you stood me up! Nobody stands up Alexis the red dragon!” For emphasis she blew another jet of white-hot flame into the air, causing the people below to cry out in panic. She looked down into the courtyard and her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. A different kind of anger began to well in her chest, and smoke drifted from her nostrils as the gathered men whimpered in fear.

“Brodda,” she said in a low voice, “what is this? What is going on?”

“Untie me,” Brodda whispered to the nearest man, who numbly obeyed. Brodda grunted as he fell to the ground, looking up at his increasingly furious draconic paramour. He took a deep breath and tried to think of what to say. “Hey,” he whispered to a fat noble who seemed to be in charge, “unless you want to die, play along!”

He put on a grin he knew she loved, now quite a bit diminished due to his swelling lips and black eye, “Alexis!” he shouted happily, “darling! I’m so glad to see you! I’m sorry I missed our date.” He looked back to the terrified nobles and knights, “I just uhh…” He snapped his fingers, “I fell off my horse!”

“Your horse?” Alexis said incredulously, “you look awfully beaten up for a tumble from the saddle.”

“I was riding near some stairs,” he said, thinking quickly, “I fell all the way down!” he gestured to the men behind him, who nervously began agreeing in low voices.

“And what were these men doing to you?” she asked, crossing her arms as those slitted eyes traced over the crowd.

“They were checking me for injuries,” he lied, and the crowd enthusiastically agreed, some even running up and pointing to his arms, doing faux examinations.

“You’re lying to me,” she said angrily, “these men beat you half to death, and now you’re trying to protect them from me!” She opened her mouth, letting a single ball of fire escape that dissipated only a few feet from her lips.

“I…” he looked back at the panicked nobles, who had moments earlier been laughing and striking him mercilessly. He sighed, “Okay, yes, it’s true, this is a coup, and these men are on the other side, but PLEASE don’t burn them all alive!”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” the dragoness growled as she leaned in close. Some of them began crying at that point, falling to the ground and begging for forgiveness. Alexis just licked her lips as a quit jet of flame left her nostrils, “nobody touches ANYTHING that belongs to a dragon! And that includes her man!”

“Spare them please,” he asked in a tired voice, “you can call it my birthday present.”

A smile traced across her features, “Oh Brodda, you’re such a kind hearted man, I do love you so…” she reached down and picked him up, hugging her to the part of her cheek where skin and scales met. She glared down at the traitors, “as for the rest of you!” she snarled, “get on the ground, and if any of you gets up even your bones will be burned to ash!”

The men all looked at one another, then in unison lay down on their bellies, hands behind their heads.

“Thank you darling,” Brodda said with a chuckle, “now, can you take me over to town? I need to rally my soldiers.”

…

Albert watched as Morwen snarled, firing a gunshot at the intruder who was launched backwards by the force. With a battle cry she scooped her sword of the floor, and continued her attack, the clangs of their swords echoing down the hallway.

Morwen had said to hide but… He scowled, he couldn’t, he glanced down that the floor, remembering Meghan’s reaction to being stepped on. They were apparently a lot more durable than expected at this size…

“No guts no glory,” he muttered, leaping from the mattress. He made contact with the floor with a roll, picking himself up and checking for injuries. It hadn’t so much as stung, and with a sigh he ran for the open door, hoping he could find a way to help.

…

Alarica growled angrily as she heard alarm bells going off outside the castle. They’d be swarming with the king’s loyal soldiers any minute, apparently the fool noblemen hadn’t been able to take care of the bandit chief like she’d expected. Worse yet this woman had fought her all the way into the throne room, it was time to reveal her power in full.

“Come to me, my babies!” she called happily.

Morwen paused their battle, listening to the sounds of heavy stone lids hitting the castle’s floor. She gripped her sword tightly, her knuckles going white as shambling skeletons and zombies entered the hallways, all of them with the same burning blue eyes as Alarica. From the sounds of battle coming from outside, her brother and his men had encountered them as well.

“Those weren’t treasure chests I brought you,” the sorceress chuckled, leveling her sword at Morwen even as her “children” swarmed around her, “those were crypts!”

Morwen hacked at the creatures, crumbling them to scattered bones and slicing their rotting limbs off, but there were too many. She screamed as she was overwhelmed, buried in the undead horde. Alarica just laughed, twirling her finger and ordering her minions to bring the captured woman to her.

“Look at you!” she said eagerly, gazing at the scars up and down Morwen’s arms, “I think I recognize this ritual,” she laughed as the undead hauled the struggling woman behind her as she walked, “yes, they were making a flesh golem out of you! They hollowed you out like a pumpkin!” she mocked, “filled you with trinkets and toys… are you even a person anymore? It looks like they were almost done… They probably threw your heart in the rubbish pile, what else did they swap out? Lungs? Liver maybe?”

“I’ll tear you apart!” Morwen hissed angrily.

“I’d do the same to you, but someone already did,” Alarica chuckled. “No, I’ve got a better idea.” She hefted the sword, tracing the tip in a slow line along Morwen’s forehead, “I’m going to finish you,” she explained.

“No,” Morwen whispered, her face going white.

“It seems a waste of all that hard work not to complete what those other wizards began,” Alarica laughed, “there is just one last thing to swap out and you’re done, that mush between your ears.” She smiled, “you’ll make a wonderful servant for me.”

The world shook, and the high stone ceiling collapsed inward, crushing a dozen undead thralls as a giant talon pierced the roof. Alarica paused, her eyes narrowing as the immense form of Cyrene dropped into the throne room. Her skeletons ran at the harpy, swords raised, but almost casually those talons darted out, knocking them over and tearing them to pieces.

“The bigger they are,” Alarica muttered, a bolt of blue fire leaping from her hand toward Cyrene. Her eyes went wide as the bolt hit a barrier that seemed to flash into existence just before the harpy’s face.

“Nice spells,” Meghan said, blue electricity dancing on her fingers, “let me show you some of mine!” A bright light flashed, and the skeletons holding Morwen flashed once, then collapsed into dust.

“Brute force,” Alarica snarled, “you have no sophistication in your casting!”

“Let me try a summon,” Meghan said mockingly, “Hey, Morwen!”

Alarica whipped around to see Morwen pulling back the hammer on a flintlock rifle, she pulled the trigger, and there was a boom that echoed through the throne room as Alarica was thrown off her feet.

“So, if anyone didn’t figure it out yet,” Meghan said, walking to join Morwen, “I think THAT is Ponteferus,” she pointed to Alarica, who was already sitting back up.

“You’re cleverer than I gave you credit for,” Alarica laughed, getting to her feet. The burned place where the bullet had struck her seemed to knit itself shut, the wound instantly disappearing. “Ponteferus was a little character I made up, a lich’s lich that I could pretend to defeat to earn the trust of those fool noblemen.”

“She doesn’t look dead,” Cyrene said curiously, “I guess we just keep ripping her up until she does?” The harpy’s talon lashed out, squeezing around Alarica like she was an errant insect. Cyrene suddenly screamed in pain as energy jolted up from the crumpled mess in her talons, leaping back and stumbling, causing the ground to shake as she fell back, causing the back wall of the throne room to crumble under her weight.

Alarica sat up, sickening cracks echoing from her as she straightened herself again, “I’ll admit to some vanity,” she said, licking her lips, “I like to wear flesh and blood, but I can assure you that I left the mortal coil long ago.”

…

Albert watched from behind his enormous throne as Alarica battled his friends. No matter what damage they did to her, it didn’t seem to stick, and she always got right back up. From the sounds of gunfire and the roar of the dragon outside, the undead were holding their own against the army as well.

He scowled; he’d never felt so helpless. Here he was, naked, inches tall, and wielding a soup spoon as his only weapon.

…

“We’ve got to destroy her Phylactery!” Meghan shouted, “she won’t be far from it!”

“Her what?!” Morwen shouted, blocking a swipe of Alarica’s sword even as the she-lich hurled lightning at Cyrene’s massive form.

“She has her soul in it!” Meghan shouted, “she’ll crumble to dust if we destroy it!”

…

Albert heard that and frowned, a phylactery… he’d only heard tales about liches, but… it could be almost anything, couldn’t it? He watched carefully as Alarica danced in and out of battle with her three foes, never giving an inch even as she cackled madly in the throes of battle.

His gaze went to the sword… at the base of a pommel was a dark violet jewel, a mere decorative piece? Or something more? Would she really be so arrogant as to put it on a weapon like that?

“You’ll never fly again harpy!” Alarica shouted, causing a panicked Cyrene’s feathers to burst into flame. Meghan muttered a counterspell, and the fire was gone as quickly as it had come, and Cyrene screeched as her talons darted out in another series of attacks.

He blinked, forcing himself to focus. This woman, this lich, she wore flesh, a beautiful woman’s flesh, she wanted to be queen, she casually battled them and seemed to be enjoying herself… Yes, she definitely had the ego to carry it on her. Confirming his suspicion, the purple gem at the end of the sword’s pommel seemed to glow as she cast another spell towards Meghan… but would any of them notice?

He sighed and swore angrily, “It’s the sword!” he screamed as loud as he could, running out from behind the throne and hoisting his spoon in front of himself like a spear, “the gem on her sword pommel! Get it away from her!”

Alarica’s eyes darted to him, filled with hate and blue fire. Morwen saw her chance, and dancing her blade around the other woman’s she flipped it out of Alarica’s grasp, sending it skittering across the floor.

“NO!” she bellowed, a shockwave seemed to pulse out from her, throwing Meghan, Morwen, and Cyrene back as she sprinted towards her weapon.

Albert reached it first, and hefting the spoon into the clawlike décor holding the gem in place, he began to dig at it. He saw the shadow of Alarica’s boot overtake him, but he ignored it, prying with all his might.

There was a *pop* as the gem came free, rolling like a marble across the floor before a shocked and horrified Lich. She abandoned her attempt to stomp Albert out, chasing the sphere in an almost comical scene.

Finally, the phylactery came to a stop beneath Morwen’s lifted boot. Alarica’s eyes traced up, true fear on her face for the first time in centuries. The room was quiet for a moment, only the raging battle outside breaking the silence.

“P-Please-“ Alarica begged, but Morwen just brought her boot down, crushing the phylactery to dust with a sound like crunching glass. Alarica screamed, and wind seemed to whip through the throne room as she crumbled away to dust.

…

“Keep fighting men!” Brodda shouted, swinging his rifle like a club at an approaching skeleton. Alexis flew by overhead, a jet of flame raking the enemy lines. Suddenly the skeleton leaping at him went limp, tumbling over. He sighed with relief and looked up, seeing the rest of the enemy undead tumbling over themselves. He grinned and shouted in triumph, and the rest of the army joined him in cheers.

…

“When do you think the castle will be ready for us to get crowned?” Meghan asked, looking at the smoking ruins, large holes were still blown in the ceiling, and at least one side of the walls had collapsed.

“We’ll get it done eventually,” Albert laughed, lounging in Cyrene’s red hair. “Gods, what a battle,” he muttered. “Sines told me it’s the talk of the human nations, we’re getting letters from all over the place asking about it. Someone calling herself Lessie the Lamia Queen wrote me,” He laughed and shook his head, “imagine Lamia having a queen, and showing an interest in Baldania of all places.”

“That fight was one for the history books, that’s for sure,” Morwen agreed, leaning back against the grassy hill. The four of them were quiet a moment longer, watching the workers below continue to work. She shuddered a moment, “She said she was going to finish me…” she said quietly, “that she’d complete what the wizards were doing, that I wasn’t human anymore…”

“I wasn’t ever human to start with,” Cyrene said cheerfully, “I think you’re nice Morwen, and I like having you around, no matter what’s inside you.”

“Agreed,” Albert said, peering over Cyrene’s lochs down at her. “You’re more than the sum of your parts.”

“Thanks,” Morwen said with a small smile.

“So, what do we do now?” Meghan asked, leaning back.

“I guess we should go down there and see if we can help,” he muttered, “I can pick up pebbles or something,” he joked. “It wouldn’t do for the king to be seen resting on his laurels while his subjects break their backs working after all.”

“Yes, we’ll be working up quite a sweat rebuilding,” Morwen said, the corner of her mouth twisting into a smile, “I think someone still has a ride in my boot coming?”

“Uhh…” Albert gulped, “Now the thing is-“

Cyrene just giggled as she reached up, pulling him out of her hair and handing him down to Morwen’s waiting palm. He looked around, hoping for a way out, and he smiled when he noticed the bracelet on Meghan’s arm.

“Meghan!” he said, “I want my turn being big, right now!”

The court mage reached for it, but Morwen stopped her, “Let him grow back Meghan, and you’re going in my boot.”

“Uhhh…” The mage gulped, “sorry Al, I know I said no more betraying you, but I’m making an exception for this one.”

He stared at her a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh. The others joined him, and he gave a happy sigh as he looked down over the rolling green hills of the kingdom…

Cyrene seemed to notice him looking, “your kingdom really is nice on these sunny mornings Albert,” the harpy said wistfully.

“Ours,” he said with a smile, looking back at all of them, “it’s OUR kingdom.”