Alden Oakwell hiked up the path, his rucksack heavy and laden. It had been a long journey from Gharn, not a perilous one, though he was ready to see that change soon. Alden had entered Wessfarrow, the western portion of the continent known for its fractiousness, with several giant clans at perpetual conflict outside the sphere of Gharn’s laws. Alden wasn’t in Wessfarrow to uphold any law or mediate justice, he was here on a mission from his guild to retrieve an artifact from an old ruin. It was more of a tedious task, with little expertise required. Those were the ones delegated to Alden nowadays, ever since he became known as the Artless.

Cresting the hills gave Alden a good overview. The woodlands were kind to the eye, the maple sparse and human-sized around this part allowing a proper view. Down the hillock he was upon, the scant woods continued west, and up against the side of another set of small hills was a humble homestead. A few giant-sized elms were taller than the hills. They made giants feel normal and made humans feel even smaller. Alden tilted his hat back, scratched his short brown scalp, then proceeded. The sun’s oppressive glare was unabating.

Alden made it all the way through the woods, until he could hear cows moo and their bells cling. He rounded their enclosure, crossed amidst a careless herd of sheep roaming freely, and closed in on the homestead. A man and his son dropped the haystack they were holding and met Alden, wiping their hands on their wilted shirts.

Alden removed his hat. “Good day to you, friends.”

“And good day to you, mister,” the father said, a perpetual frown upon him. It wasn’t made of a bad temper, but molded by the heat and toil of the day.

“I’ve come a long way, from Gharn. Might I rest here a while? I’ve got money.”

The son stepped forward, a teen just younger than Alden. “What brings you here?”

“On an errand, for my guild.” Their uneased looks were understandable, and Alden was quick to correct it. “They’re called the Tailglows, we’re not tied to the kingdom.” Alden retrieved his certificate from the side of his rucksack, offering it to the father. He also tugged at the collar of his brown shirt, revealing the purple Tailglow insignia on his chest.

The father handed the certificate to his son. “What does it say, boy?”

“Seems legitimate.”

“Go see Marley over there.” The father pointed to the porch of the house, where a young lady waved him over. Her dress was a faded green, the pinafore over it smeared with dirt. The young man led Alden to the house.

“Madam,” Alden said. The youngster introduced him and returned to his father’s work.

“This way, sir. We’ve some mushroom stew left from morning, if you’d like.”

“That sounds wonderful. Marley, was it?”

She nodded, opening the door and letting him in. The main room was spacious, the aromatic, earthen scent of mushroom stew greeting his nose first.

Alden put his rucksack down behind the open door. “Life around here seems quiet, quieter than what you’d hear about in Gharn.”

“They do love making devils of us over there,” Marley said, heading for the fireplace near the table where a cauldron hung over the embers of the fire. “The clans do war amongst each other, but we keep our heads low. Although… sometimes, it’s overbearing. There’s a nasty devil of a giant that comes by here every other week, she’s part of the Sorrel Clan. They own this territory. They’ve been at war with the Klint Clan for who knows how long. The Sorrel Clan’s strongest fighter, Big Bertha, she came through here once. Largest giant I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve heard of her,” Alden said. “She is the largest giant ever, at least on our continent. Who knows what awaits beyond the shores.”

“Hmm. There’s a footprint of hers nearby, still preserved when she walked by. Enormous feet. I can understand what Gharn sees in us sometimes. All barbarism and fighting.”

Alden sat by the table. “It’s no paradise over there either.”

Marley stirred the stew with a ladle. “You were from a guild, weren’t you?”

“Tailglows. We’ve no ties to the kingdom, so it shouldn’t rile anyone up here.”

“You’re assuming everyone here is reasonable.”

“The errand itself isn’t the hardest,” Alden said. “But not many are willing to take it because it’s in Wessfarrow.”

“Why did you?”

“Well… It wasn’t high-profile, so it’s the best I can take. I’m among the lower ranks in the guild.”

Marley took a bowl and filled it with stew. “What was your name?”

“Alden.”

She waited for more.

Alden hoped they didn’t know over here, deciding to give his full name. “Oakwell.”

“Oakwell…” Her expression was distant, thinking, as she came over to the table and handed him the stew and a spoon. “Isn’t that the great mage’s name, Gerard Oakwell?”

“Might be.” Alden swirled his spoon through the stew. Hopefully, she wouldn’t continue.

“And he had a son, I think. A promising young lad of great magical talent. But they said he was a failure, they called him the Artless, because he never reached an art.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m assuming that’s not you?”

Alden feigned a smile. “I’m a different Oakwell.” That was partly true. He wasn’t worth the name anymore.

“Lucky for you,” she said, taking her own seat. “It’s quite a tragic story. It’s not known for any mage to not have an art, once they’re strong enough. It was an embarrassment for someone like Gerard Oakwell, to have a child like that.”

“You know, I’ve heard that story too many times.” Alden tried to be polite.

“Oh, sure. How about you? Are you a strong mage?”

“I’d say so, trained since I was a boy. I’m seventeen, still ways to go. No, I haven’t reached my arts.”

She smiled. “It should come soon, then.”

“Sure.”

Although she couldn’t know why the topic soured his mood, Marley at least noticed it happened. She got up and pointed him to the room, took his rucksack there and explained the areas. “Ask, if any more is needed,” she said when finished.

“Thank you.” He was left to finish his stew. Alden refilled another bowl and wolfed that one down too, letting a burp rip when he knew he was alone. The sight of him sitting so ungracefully in this countryside would make his father bury his head in shame, if the man had any of it left. Alden was a dirty stain Gerard wanted to wash off, and a year of not having seen each other could count as having successfully done that. It was somewhat of a cyclic interaction Alden had with most people. When they saw the strength of his base magics coupled with his young age, they wanted to recruit him. The promise of what mage he could become was exceptional. And when he had to be honest and let them know he was without an art, the Artless, that his ceiling was far below what one might expect, interest vanished. Alden began to see what value people placed in the art. He was powerful still, well above the average of most mages, yet that detail made everyone lose faith in him. It wasn’t something anyone else had to deal with either; not having an art was unheard of.

As Alden got up, he felt the tremors, very faint but noticeable. A giant. Through the window, he saw two large, copper legs pass by. The palish brown of her soles had smatters of leaves and chips of branches on them. An absent-minded flex of her toes summoned a rich array of wrinkles across her sole, much of the debris dropping off as those pretty appendages showed their human-grabbing capabilities.

Alden snapped out of it. It was another embarrassing detail adding to his outcast status, one he tried to keep hidden and, to his knowledge, had failed to do, which was the matter of his affection for feet.

The giant was likely on some errand around here or was passing by, nothing that was any of Alden’s business. So he went to his room, took off his boots and shirt and delivered himself to the bed. Every part of his body seemed to sigh as he closed his eyes.

The door opened. “Please, Mr. Oakwell, can you help?” Marley pressed her lips together, nervous, but didn’t convey an alarming urgency.

Alden rubbed his eyes and sat up. “What is it?”

“This rascal of a giant, Mimmie, she comes by every now and then. She’s a bully, a fiend, and I can’t stand watching my brother and father endure her stupidities any longer.”

“And what should I do about it?”

“Go and scare her off. She’s no braver than a mouse, do some magical noise and you’ll shoo her away.”

Alden got up from the bed. “It’s really that simple?”

“Yes! You can stay the whole night without pay, and I’ll stock some provisions for you.”

“Ehh.” Alden got up and got dressed while she thanked him. It felt like she concluded too early that he would do it. He could have pushed back, but a free night sounded lovely.

Marley lead him to the window. The giant stood sixty feet tall with a relatively thin frame, towering over both the father and son of the homestead. She had a tattered beige skirt ending at her thighs, a strap over her flat chest and nothing else. Her dark hair was thrown up in three slapdash pigtails, looking younger than even Alden, a teen at most. Alden stepped outside.

“You know we asked you to be quiet, madam,” the father said. “You scare the livestock.” Both of them had to crane their necks all the way up to find her face.

“You know you’re supposed to call me Queen Mimmie!” The shrillness of her voice complemented too well the bother she seemed to be.

“Of course, Queen Mimmie.”

“Now, I did wait over the hills, but you were too blind to see me.”

“Uhm, I’m sure we looked, right, Father?”

Mimmie pouted. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, we’re not, Queen Mimmie.”

“And what do you mean I ‘scare the livestock’. Are you calling me ugly?”

“Absolutely not. You’re the fairest of ladies, my queen.”

Mimmie crossed her arms. “I don’t buy it. You’re just saying things. There’s only one way to fix this, and you know what it is.” She pointed down, her ten toes waving about buoyantly. They were small and cute, but stuck on a nasty little brat. “Start kissing! And next time I come, I shouldn’t even have to tell you, you’re just going to do it.”

Marley nudged Alden on. “Do something, please.”

Alden stepped down the porch, and right as the father and son got on their knees to bring their lips onto her expectant big toes, Alden called, “Hey, bitch.”

All three of them turned to him.

“Why don’t you get out of here, hmm? Find someone else to annoy.”

“And who the hell are you, tiny?”

The men used the chance to get up and away from her feet.

“Is it too much to ask of you to stop annoying these people? They’re just trying to get by.”

“So am I, and I want to have fun. I can do what I want.” She walked forward, purposefully putting weight into her steps to bring those tremors which shook the ground. Alden cast a glance at Marley. From her description, he expected the giant to be less confrontational.

Mimmie’s two feet took position to either side of Alden. He stared at them for a stupid moment, then looked up, and despite her thinness, she absolutely dwarfed him.

“I’ll make you kiss my feet, since you stare at them so much.” Following those copper-colored legs, he could see her underwear past the skirt. Her annoyed look was gone, more pleased now. She was happy to have someone to bully without any excuses.

Alden got ready to summon his magic.

Alden threw his arms out and was enveloped in a flowing light of dark, purplish blue, summoning his base magics. Mimmie threw a foot up, the dirty sole aiming to make Alden equal with all the debris plastered on it. He darted out of the way as her stomp came down, a loud crash frightening the livestock. Alden bolted away from there.

“Get back here, you chicken!” She chased, as Alden wanted. In his empowered speed, he made sudden pivots to evade those stomps. Her feet drummed the soil and left weak footprints upon the grass. She didn’t have the keenness to track his movement, to think ahead. As if she saw the world with a delay, she prepared to kick when Alden still hadn’t made his move, committed her energy to try and crush him when he’d already gotten out of the way. Not surprising from her young age, she wasn’t practiced.

“Stop running!” she exclaimed, jaws clenched, ineptly casting her feet after him. Alden wasn’t on his best either, a semi-competent giant would already have him flattened under her soles.

Alden led her away from the farmlands, to minimize the damage caused. She shoved the maple trees aside, laying low the tall and proud sedge and grass, branches cracking and falling in her wake.

“Did you train just to run?” she taunted again. Alden had her where he wanted her, lowering her guard to the point where she’d never expect retaliation. The surprise would enhance his attack, he had to make it count. He charged the blue, flashing magic in his arm. He took focus off his dodging, making her stomps land closer and closer. Fortunately, his waning evasion gave her hope of getting him, and she committed hard on the next stomp. Her left foot crashed right next to him, hitting him with a rush of wind.

Alden unleashed his charged load right on the inside of her foot, letting it erupt with a cast of his arms. The explosion of blue threw her leg with enough force that it swung aside like a pendulum.

“Aw!” Mimmie jumped up, stumbling on her other foot and tripping over. Alden rushed up and swung a charged kick on the arch of her exposed sole. She yelped again, folding that leg in as well where she sat, holding her soles. “S—Stop! Stop, I don’t want to anymore!” Her voice wavered by the end. All his determination evaporated along the magic as she sniveled and sobbed.

“So, we’re done here?” Alden said. “You’ll leave?”

“Yes, whatever. Go away.” She shielded her face with her palms, sniffling.

“You know, it’s not nice to bully people like that,” he said, trying to make something of it. Alden didn’t feel like a noble deliverer of justice. “Come on now, stop crying. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Shut up. That hurt.” Mimmie let one of her hands go to the foot he’d struck, rubbing the arch.

“I can kiss it to make the pain go away.”

“No, go away.”

Alden shrugged. It was worth a shot.

She wiped the tears around the corners of her eyes. “What’s your name?”

Alden snorted. “Eh, I’m not giving you that.”

Without another word, Mimmie got up and ran away, towards the farm.

“Goddammit.” Alden tailed her, but when he arrived at the farm, he saw her disappear around the hillside. She was gone.

“Why did you do that?” The father got up from the porch, throwing him a frown quite the opposite to the triumphant return Alden expected.

“If I’m not living in a dream right now, I’m sure I saved you. Unless you were keen on kissing her feet.” Projection was Alden’s best way of detracting from his own bizarre obsession.

“You may think you sent her away,” he said, “but you only multiplied her petty anger.”

Alden shrugged, pointing to Marley who stood by the doorway. “Your daughter urged me to do it.”

Marley turned to her father. “We can’t just accept it, Father. How long is she going to keep coming around and annoying you?”

“For as long as she wants. That’s the life we’ve accepted, and it hasn’t been terrible neither, so I don’t know why you would go thinking up an idea like that. This just made everything worse.” The father turned to Alden. “That girl is part of the Sorrel Clan.”

Alden turned his head about nonchalantly. “She was a nobody.”

“Doesn’t matter, they protect their own.”

“Not just that.” The son came from behind Alden. “How in all the gods did you send her running? Have you reached your arts?”

Alden tried to hide his tired sigh. “No, I haven’t.”

“Whatever you say, but you’re not weak. So it won’t just be protecting their own, but they’ll hear about some mage that popped about and blasted one of their giants away with a decently impressive show. They’ll know you’re from Gharn and assume you’re from one of the kingdom’s guilds. They’ll find you.”

“That’s a good point. They won’t accept someone from Gharn just waltzing into Wessfarrow and attacking their clan. You need to leave.”

“What? I was promised a stay here, free of charge for sending her off, even.”

“You haven’t been listening?” The father received Alden’s backpack from the son, handing it over. “You did us no favor. They’ll come around here soon, and you need to be gone.”

Alden took his backpack and didn’t argue, although he wanted to. “Fine. At least help me confirm if the Ruins of Addrar is northwest of here.”

“Still on your guild’s errand? You should be going the opposite way, east, back to Gharn.”

Alden stepped off, his course northwest. “Good luck.”

“Same to you, gods have mercy on you.” And so Alden left them, off the road and under the maples. Alden wondered how quickly other giants from this Sorrel Clan would be upon the homestead. According to the man’s warning, it was ‘soon’. Alden summoned his base magics and kicked into a jog, leaping his way through the woods. His backpack was heavier, Marley must have filled it with provisions as promised. At least he’d gotten something out of that business.

He hopped over the thickets, leaped off the maples, but he had to stop eventually. This wasn’t sustainable for a long period of time, and he was wasting energy. Here in the woods, giants would have a hard time finding him anyways. He walked with a fast pace after for about half an hour, the occasional chirp sounding from the trees. The underbrush was sparse and thin while some trees stood at a slant, others broken and fallen over, their leaves yellow and withered. Giants roamed through these areas, and not infrequently.

The maples grew fewer and fewer, until Alden came to its border. Open fields followed, curving up and down through a spread of hills. Alden pushed through. Those giants weren’t coming anyways.

The decision couldn’t have had a worse timing. Alden was halfway up the first hill when the rustle and crinkle of moving trees grew from the woods, and he saw a giant push through. She raised a hand for his attention.

“Great…” Running wouldn’t be too clever. In the woods, perhaps, but he’d have to run towards her, and she’d reach the fields before he’d reach the trees.

She was a beauty, a brassiere holding a well-developed bosom together, her bare waist slim and fit. The rich dark hair came together at her neck with a band, then puffed out again over her upper back. After exiting the woods, Alden could see her skirt. Long to her calves, it had a slit cutting all the way up to her waist which let her bare, right leg flash out with every step. Her feet were graceful, well-shaped with slender toes, yet they had the strength to remain practical, able to find a home both inside a jeweled set of sandals and out here to brace the wild roads. An anklet of bony trinkets around her left foot captivated Alden further, so much so that she literally had to snap her fingers and call to him.

“Buddy, I’m up here.” She was before him. Up on this slope, she stood like a person would with a foot placed on a chair. Alden was on the chair here, her right foot next to him, and she leaned onto her right knee. It looked like she was about to fall on top of him. Her brown eyes were sharp, her cheeks defined, and she had a confident forwardness that made it clear this was her area.

“Good day to you, madam,” Alden said, trying to sound confident. That brat wouldn’t be able to bully him, but this lady was a step above. The sense of their hierarchy became obvious.

“I’m looking for a troublemaker in these areas,” she said, one end of her mouth turning up in half a grin. “A young man, flaunting a strong magic of a dark blue hue. Since you seem to fit the description so well, could you show me your magic?”

“Oh, I’m not a mage, madam. Just a trader, traveling southwards.”

“Is that so? And what’s your name?”

“Ken. Ken Miffels.”

She chuckled. “So you say. Alright then, Ken Miffels. Could you show me what’s in your pockets, as well as that turtle’s shell you call a backpack?”

Alden took a defensive step back, feigning offense. “I’m sorry, but is this necessary? I’m just passing through. This is no toll, is it? You don’t look like an official.”

She put a palm on her throat, fluttering with her eyelids. “And what do I look like?” God, she was captivating.

Alden moved his arm in a half-circle, taking in the area. “I know there’s clans here around Wessfarrow.”

“Correct. And coming into our territory, attacking one of our own, it tends to bring out the mother lion in us. You get me?”

Alden nodded. He didn’t know what to say, what words would help him out of this. Another body moved through the woods, the trees rustling.

The giant before him turned her head back. “Ah, there she is.”

Mimmie arrived, eyes red and tender from having cried. She stuck around behind the other giant, pointing at Alden. “It’s him.”

“Could have guessed.” The giant turned back to Alden. “I’m Leila Rister.” She pointed a thumb back. “That’s my little sister, Mimmie Rister, though you two seem to already have met.”

“Listen,” Alden said, pointing past Leila and at her sister, “she was annoying some innocent folk, I tried to teach her something valuable, something her mother or older sister should have. That’s the problem with giants, honestly, no men, just brats running around in all their entitled arrogance.”

Leila craned her head up in a burst of laughter, leaning back forward with a wide smile. Her teeth were straight and perfect. “I like you, Ken Miffels. Mimmie is a little stupid, with many things to learn. You’re right about that. We can teach her.” She moved her lips with a seductive slowness, making Alden blush. “Together. But first, why don’t you tell me your name, and what guild you’re from? I’ll go easier on you. Or perhaps…” The grass tore as she raked them with a drag of her foot, and her fingers gracefully slid over her presented leg. “You want me to go hard on you?”

“I think I like you too,” Alden said, though he was still unsure what lay behind this performance, how serious she was. She had caught his seventeen-year-old boyhood in her webs. “What part about Ken Miffels don’t you like?”

“Last chance. Give me a real name.”

“If I do, will you let me be on my way?”

“Unfortunately,” Leila said, slipping a hand down her toned abdomen, into the skirt between her legs. “I’ve fallen for you. I might have to take you in anyway.”

He thought so. He’d already made too much noise attacking one of them, with magic that was far from weak. They wanted to know who he was. He thought about giving his guild’s name, the Tailglows, to help his case as they were neutral on the political side. But then he’d drag their name down. As for his father and the Oakwell name, although Alden didn’t feel like he owed him anything, although he’d been shamed enough, he didn’t wish to shame it further. His father’s disdain was neither new nor raw, but it still hurt.

He chose to fight for his anonymity. Alden put his rucksack down.

“Interesting.” The foot next to Alden left as Leila stepped back. “I wanted to fight anyway.”

“We can get him,” Mimmie said.

“No.” Leila waved her back. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Alden brought the dark-blue upon himself, charged with energy. Leila measured him, not making a move yet. Aggressively reactive was the best way to fight a giant, Alden had been taught, and that trend could be something Leila was aware of as she remained passive. That air of smugness about her might just be more of her play, however.

Alden peered at the woods behind her. Getting in there was his best shot. He took a couple of steps to the side.

“Oh no.” Leila stretched her leg out to the side and stood wide-legged, like a guard holding a door. “You wouldn’t leave a lady behind like that, would you?”

“You’ll have to do your best to hold onto me, then.” Alden sped up and dashed along the hillside. Leila moved, right upon him. She was fast. She threw a kick at the hillside, the shadow of her sole falling over him. Alden dodged down the slope, toward the woods, but Leila hadn’t committed to that stomp. Instead, she kicked off the hill, sending herself down after him, and her other foot with its beautiful anklet was aimed right at him.

Alden had to break all his momentum and turn abruptly, almost tripping. Her sole smashed the soil where he’d stood, the puff of wind laying the surrounding grass low. He hesitated, but spent a second deciding this was a chance to retaliate. He cast his arms forward, and her other foot swung by. Alden was caught in the gap between her second and third toe. She was terribly nimble.

Leila scrunched her toes, his torso caught in the fleshy clamp between the ball of her foot and the toes, while his legs stuck out. “You need to get those woods out of your mind, sweetheart.” The flesh under her toes was soft, deforming to welcome his face in its embrace.

He hated himself for loving it. That scent should have been reviling; they were to any ordinary man. But Alden indulged in it.

“Let’s not enjoy ourselves too much.” With an agile kick of her lower leg and release of her toes, Leila threw him against the hill. He slammed into the crest and rolled on top of it, getting up fast. Alden was excited, but not merely from battle. Her comment was given in jest, unaware of how true it was. He was indeed enjoying those toes too much.

“Snap out of it, you fool,” he murmured to himself, fighting his eyes off her feet. Their shape was perfectly in line with the skills she’d exhibited, a delicate slenderness showing beauty, yet rounded out with the right fillings of muscle and strength to make them capable weapons. The bony trinkets clunked around her ankle as she came towards him, her right leg flaunting its nakedness through the parted skirt. Leila came uphill.

She kicked her foot up. Dodging the kick didn’t give Alden an opening, for her foot was high up and ready to slam down, forcing him on the retreat yet again. The window for attack was low. Alden had to adjust.

The next slam of her foot, he went for a risky, small sidestep. Her toes were just a yard short of finding him in their grasp. Alden shot forward with a jab of his elbow, a blooming blue scattering over her foot.

“Ah!” Leila zipped her leg back, lost balance and fell, a flash of seriousness coming over her. She caught herself, though not too well, slipping downhill. Alden slammed both his fists into her arch, an explosion of magic causing a flexure of her foot. Knees flexing, she pulled her lower legs back and spun around, throwing herself back up. “Well, well.” The tug of her lips returned, the beginnings of a smirk. There was a certain stress to her expression now. “You’re not bad. Good, even. Why won’t you show me your art?”

That question never grew any less tiresome.

“Hmm, saving it for the right time?” Leila cracked her knuckles, adjusted her hair, pulled her brassiere in place. “You interest me, boy.”

Alden saw the younger sister, Mimmie, emptying his rucksack and going through his things. Even if he got the upper hand against Leila, which seemed unlikely, there were another pair of giant feet ready to join the fray. He wasn’t sure what a good, realistic outcome looked like for him here.

No time to think, Leila was upon him. She stomped in quick succession, ending with a powerful one. Alden hopped up on her bent knee and skipped further upwards, readying a blast at her face.

Her palm flied in from behind and slapped him into her breast, the naked upper half unconcealed by the brassiere. “Feeling playful, are we?” The buoyant flesh gave way until it didn’t, until she smushed him so hard there wasn’t any more doughy lump of tit flesh to go past. Her hand was unrelenting in its force, mashing him for a good minute. Then, she picked his leg between her thumb and index and slapped him into her breast, then squeezed him into her midline while tightening her abdomen. The packed muscle made him miss her breast. With a final whack into her belly, Leila dropped him.

Alden landed with a groan. He could bring it together again, he could get up, get ready, but he didn’t see the point in it.

“Given up?”

Alden turned over, lying on his back and staring up at the monument of beauty she was. “Pretty much.”

“Feel like talking yet?”

“Will you let me go if I do?”

Leila smiled in response. She raised her left foot and hovered it over him, fanning her lively toes out in display. The foot lowered on top of him, the ball over his chest and his head between her second and big toe. They pinched his face, smushing his cheeks together in their warm, soft flesh.

Alden had the feeling of complete surrender overwhelm him. Everything felt pointless, disowned by his reputable father, his promising future taken away from him, now a lone, mercenary outcast in a small guild trying to earn some money here in the nowhere of Wessfarrow.

Alden turned his head and kissed the side of her big toe. The kiss was the first of many, sticking his tongue out as well and tasting the dirt and grass. He didn’t care. He enjoyed it, so he would do it. What image was he preserving anyway? Why shouldn’t he do it?

The erupting laughter from Leila stung. Since he’d already thrown out his rounds of slobbering kisses and had effectively shot his pride dead, there was no going back. Stopping now wouldn’t salvage anything, so he just continued, trying to ignore the sincere character of her laughter. Leila held her mouth the way a shy girl would, even grew teary-eyed from laughter, all while Alden made out with the pulpy side of her big toe. Once he got past the soil and grass, he reached the layer of dried sweat and restored it to its former salty glory. He was ravenous. He worshipped them so aggressively that he almost forgot these were the vehicles of battle which had fought him a moment ago.

“You know,” Leila said, able to get a few words out, wiping a tear out from the corner of her eye. “I had my suspicions from the way you were staring at them, but I didn’t think it would come like this. You even seemed to have some toughness, some grit.” Leila flicked her hair. “But it seems my beauty is irresistible.”

Alden’s manhood was raging in his pants. She didn’t move her foot whatsoever, letting it rest on him and have him do it all.

“Big sis.” Mimmie joined her sister’s side. On her palm she offered the tiny emblem of the Tailglows which Alden always had in the rucksack.

Leila received the emblem, measuring it between thumb and index. “I’ve never seen this one before. They might not be part of the kingdom. Any comments?” The question was asked with a twist of her foot.

That small grind rubbed up against his manhood, and Alden squirmed with a moan. Leila noticed, twisting her ball again.

With just that, Alden came. He spurted his seed into his pants, driving his hips up into her sole, a movement done in automation. Leila burst into another round of laughter, and Alden couldn’t distract himself with worship or anything like it. He could only lie in the sedated embarrassment following orgasm, where gloomy thoughts found their way into the mind.

“He even asked me if he could kiss my feet,” Mimmie said, frowning down at him. “He’s weird.”

“He sure is.” Leila got it together again, her smile showing her teeth. “I thought there was something interesting about him. And he might have some talent, but in the end, he’s just some no-name creep. Isn’t that so?” Her toes pinched his head again, rubbing into his face now that he’d lost all his drive and was repulsed by them just as any normal person ought to be.

As the toes played with him, Alden cried. It wasn’t that she’d dominated him to the point where it hurt his feelings. This was an accumulation of everything. He’d always wanted to feel that his situation was unfair, his lack of an art a mad trick played to him by the gods, his unloving family, the reputation like a dark cloud over him. He always told himself it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t fair, but out here under Laila’s foot, he finally, truly felt pathetic. He wasn’t better than this.

Laila’s big toe sat on top of his head, smearing his tears. “Now, now, child. Keep it together, worse things await you. In fact, you’ll be looking back at this moment and recognize it as the peak of your time with the Sorrels.”

“Can I have my turn with him?” Mimmie said, the pout still lingering on her. “He’s going to pay for what he did.”

Leila stopped her with a palm. “He will. But it won’t be from you. You have to earn your turns, sister. Let’s take him in. Big Bertha can question him. Whatever he has to say, she’ll get it out. Should he turn out to be useless, well, they wouldn’t mind having another slave in camp.”

Alden’s hands were tied to Leila’s big and pinky toe, although the bindings were hardly needed anymore. The humid, sticky sweat had his front properly plastered to the middle of her left sole, keeping him encased in its hold as it stepped on him again and again throughout her walk. Grass, bushes, twigs, Alden’s backside met it all. The duality was best felt on his head. The left side of his face scraped through the forest bed while his right side had been taken captive by the warm adhesive hold of her foot flesh. Whenever Leila’s left foot rose, the forces tugged his head down, but the sweaty marriage to her foot wouldn’t let him part an inch.

The feeling of his stained paints was a constant reminder to the embarrassment he’d gone through. Leila hadn’t paid any attention to him this entire time, going on just as she would have without Alden under her foot, speaking to her little sister. Alden regretted kissing her toes and surrendering to lust. Holding onto pride would have mattered. Then, he would have been trampled by this sole meaningfully, as an adversary receiving Leila’ full, dazzling attention. Even now, as the trampled him during her walk, this could have been an extension of their flirtatious exchange, and she might still think about him. There might have been a twist of the foot, a cheeky comment. Now, it was nothing, considering him unworthy and pathetic, and she walked as if any other piece of dirt was stuck to her foot.

Alden was beginning to lose consciousness from the continuous stomps. He heard voices, unsure if they were real from a crowded place they’d entered, or if he was going insane. Alden was trampled into gravel, then packed soil, the clear contours of a path. The voices were high above him, from other giants, and suddenly they were dulled. They’d entered a room of some sort, though it didn’t insulate as well as walls should. A tent, perhaps.

“Welcome back, Leila,” a woman’s voice said.

“My little sister got herself into trouble, Lady Hex, so it left me with an errand to attend to.”

The woman, called Lady Hex, chuckled. “Ah, family.”

“But something caught my interest.” Her left foot turned up, presenting the sole and Alden stuck to it. “A rogue mage who attacked my sister. Belongs to a guild, but not any that I know. He won’t say who he is. I thought maybe you or Big Bertha could fix that.”

“Is he strong?”

“Surprisingly. I don’t think he’s reached his art because he surrendered before using it, which doesn’t make sense for his strength. A lot of questions around this one.”

The bindings came off Alden’s arms, though he still had to be peeled off Leila’s sole. He was dropped between them, all the energy beaten out of his body. He recognized Leila from her stature, but not Lady Hex, both looking down at him.

“I’m…” Alden groaned and writhed to the side. “I’m not someone special.”

“Then why not tell us, boy?” Lady Hex’s toe flipped him back so he faced them, noticeably colder. “There’ll still be a price to pay, for attacking one of us.”

“She was—” Alden stopped himself. He wouldn’t win the argument there. “I’m Alden Oakwell. My guild is called the Tailglows.”

“The Tailglows?”

Leila shrugged. “Couldn’t recognize the symbol either. What’s your errand, Mr. Alden Oakwell, the foot lover?”

“I was on my way to the Ruins of Addrar, said to be a rare artifact there. That’s it.” Alden’s grimace loosened, the tension and pain getting better. Leila’s piercing eyes were on him, trying to find more. Lady Hex had dark hair falling over her shoulders pinned with flowerheads. Long necklaces of odd gems hung from her neck, clinking as she moved. She was older than Leila, in her forties, with thin and prominent features.

“Hold on,” Lady Hex said. “Oakwell… Oakwell. It can’t be, the son of the great Gerard Oakwell?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Who’s that?” Leila said.

“They said the Great Mage Gerard had a son who never reached his art. The Artless, they called him, unloved by the gods. Some believe it was a curse within a blessing, that Gerard drained the talents of his future generations.”

Leila drew a few circles on her chin, nodding. “That makes sense. His base magics carried a mean strength, but he never used his arts. Seems he doesn’t have it, and never will.”

Alden couldn’t help but laugh. The world wouldn’t stop reminding him.

“So, if his dad’s a great mage, maybe we could ransom him?” Leila said.

Alden grunted for their attention. “My father wouldn’t lift a finger to save me. You’d do him a favor if you got rid of me.”

“Poor little you,” Lady Hex said, pouting in exaggeration. “I’m afraid we’ll have to explore those options anyway. I’ll put him with one of Big Bertha’s dogs.”

Leila was about to turn around and leave. But before that, she cast a glance at Alden. “Hearing that he’s the Artless is too fitting. From what I saw, he’s pathetic. See that stain on his pants, Lady Hex? He licked my toes to get there.”

“Oh my.”

“Yeah, I know. Didn’t take long for his true colors to emerge. Now it turns out he’s famous for being a failure. Some people were just made to be at the bottom.” Leila raised her foot over him. He could see the yellow imprint on the sole where he’d been. She brought it tauntingly near, then scrunched her toes. “Goodbye.” With that, she took that beautiful foot away from him and left the tent.

“A striking young lady, she is,” Lady Hex said. “But if she considers you unworthy of her attention, she won’t turn half an eye your way. That might be the last you’ll see of her.”

“And why are you telling me that?”

“Because I know you’ve been smitten by her. Every young man is.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh well.” Lady Hex bent down and reached for him. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

***

Alden was stripped naked, his arms tied together behind his back. Not only were the wrists bound together, but his forearms too, limiting the movement of his arms and rendering him unable to summon his magics. Lady Hex took Alden to her own tent. It smelled exotic. Leaves of the dark green bitterseed and purple laivee existing in the same room left a turmoil of smell, an acrid pungency intermingling with an occasional sweetness. The shelves had concoctions Alden didn’t understand, a few of them sizzling with an arcane instability.

“Are you sure that mixture should be left like it is?” Alden said, indicating with his chin towards a vial filled with yellow goo. It growled, shaking, tumbling to one side as if someone had shoved it aside but never failing to find balance again.

“Don’t mind that.” Lady Hex took Alden to a stand. She tied him to the top beam, letting him hang among the dried herbs. “Now, one of Big Bertha’s dogs will come to help me out. I want some of that magical sweetness.”

“Seeing as my arms are tied up, I’m afraid I can’t show you much.”

Lady Hex smiled. “Your arms will stay tied.” Her index finger settled on his throat. “You won’t need to play a part in this.” The fingertip stroked downwards. Alden shivered. The tip rubbed two circles around his nipples, the thumb joining to give him a bit of a pinch. Lady Hex bit her lower lip, her nails yellowing from the strain as she nipped harder. Alden writhed away from them, bending like a fish in water. A yelp broke out of him.

“That’s right, boy,” Lady Hex whispered. “I wouldn’t have any problems getting it out of you.” She released with a tug, his chest left with a reddish hue. Her index trailed down his abdomen, sneaking in under his manhood. Lady Hex brought his balls and manhood up, letting them rest on top of her fingertip. “You’re a bit sticky here, must be from the happy incident under Leila’s foot. Luckily, you can just produce more, can’t you?”

“What do you want?” Alden tried to keep a straight face. “Other than wasting time trying to get a bounty from my negative reputation?”

“A mage’s seed is a very potent ingredient. From a mage’s point of view, being the Artless is quite a detriment. But from an alchemist’s point of view, there might be possibilities. The only mage who can’t reach their art. Who knows, there might be something special in that body of yours.”

The tent flaps parted as someone entered. A lady came in, leading another giant by the hair who was crawling on all four. She wore nothing. This naked, crawling giant had to be one of the dogs they kept mentioning. The girl was thin, dirt and soot smearing both her pale skin and her blonde hair.

“Here she is,” the woman said, throwing the crawling giant’s hair forward. It was long and frayed, blanketing her face.

“Well then, girl,” Lady Hex said, “I heard good things about you from Big Bertha. This tasty little mage is your reward.” Lady Hex tapped her on the back of her head, urging her forward.

She flicked her head up, casting her hair aside. The girl, or dog as they referred to her, had large blue eyes which stared rather aimlessly. She had a sweet face, round cheeks and a small nose. Her shoulders were drawn up, radiating meekness.

Lady Hex slapped at her hair, making it puff towards Alden. “Get it out of him. But you’re not drinking any of it, I want it. Do you understand?”

The girl nodded, then crawled towards Alden. The aimless air of her expression vanished as she set eyes on him, those large innocent eyes inquisitive. “Hi,” she said, a melodious voice made to sing lullabies.

For lack of a better option, Alden said, “Hello.” He peered to his side, seeing Lady Hex shuffle through a cupboard, glass vials clinking. “You don’t seem to be doing too well here.”

The girl moved closer, her nose brushing up against Alden’s stomach. A fresh sweep sucked into her nose as she sniffed him, likely catching the scent of his seed. “You smell nice,” she said, voice soft and low, and Alden felt as if they stood bunched up in a tight room, all intimate. “They’re not very nice here. But don’t worry, I’m nice.” With that, her lips came together and put a kiss on his manhood. Alden blushed. The softness of her lips was one thing, the delicacy with which she treated him another. This did not belong here, here in this band of mercenaries and clans and depravity out in Wessfarrow. Her kisses, ongoing and moving over his torso, was a treatment for royalty.

“You’re…” Alden put his head back as her lips were at his collarbone. “You’re kind. Too kind for this place.” His manhood poked onto her chin. “Why are you doing this?”

“There’s no one normal to be friends with here,” she whispered, pulling back slightly and pressing her lips together. Those eyes were on him with a strange absence, as if she were daydreaming right after speaking a word.

“I can agree to that. What’s your name, and why are you here?”

“I’m Claeri, I—”

A hand whacked her right across the cheek, throwing Claeri to the ground with a whelp. The sudden impact made Alden twitch where he hung.

“You’re supposed to milk him, not talk to him.” Lady Hex put her foot on Claeri’s back and shoved. “Up with you.”

Claeri’s long hair was thrown over her face, lying there like a harmless, innocent thing, a quality it seemed only Alden paid any attention to around here. Claeri picked herself up. She parted her hair, revealing the reddened cheek. Owing to her pale skin, her blemishes were easily shown.

Lady Hex grabbed a tuft of her hair and yanked her back towards Alden. “Today, princess. And don’t you dare swallow any of his seed, I’m collecting it.” She let go of Claeri and brandished a thin glass phial.

Claeri returned to Alden’s body. She kissed his manhood once, then ducked to have her face underneath him. From thereunder, she poked her tongue out, slipped it through between his thighs and picked at his scrotum. Alden shivered; her loving lips had moved him towards the edge, and now she needed only to shove. The tongue did the shoving, stroking along the shaft of his manhood, back and forth, pressing it against his abdomen. She played with it.

Alden gasped again, squirmed, and Lady Hex brought the glass vial and put its lip against the tip of his manhood. He spurted right into it. Claeri’s tongue moved behind his scrotum, applying force towards his balls to wring more out of him. When Alden thought he was done, another couple of drops came. Alden’s whole body relaxed as the orgasm subsided, wilting forward as much as his bindings allowed.

“There we go.” Lady Hex dragged the tip of the vial up along his shaft to get as much of it as she could. She turned toward the cupboard.

Claeri put her lips over his lower torso, all his skin within their embrace sucked inwards. Her tongue drew up over his slack manhood.

Alden groaned. “No, please. It just hurts now.”

She let go. “Sorry. I just wanted to see if there were any drops left.” Her eyes regarded him with concern. “Didn’t it feel good? I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s fine,” Alden panted. “It felt good, don’t worry about that.”

Claeri smiled, stole a glance at Lady Hex who was still busy, and just before she turned around, Claeri stole another couple of kisses, setting his suspended body to a light sway. For all his ungrateful existence, Alden had never received such loving attention. It left him ambivalent. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or dejected over this turn of events.

Lady Hex cut the rope tying Alden to the stand, though the bindings around his forearms remained intact. The ground rushed up to meet him. Instead, a pair of palms caught him for a better landing. Alden lay on his side, Claeri’s belly button before him. Staring up, he saw her smiling down at him, her flat chest leaving little in the way.

Lady Hex slapped her again. Alden fell from her hands, thrown down together with Claeri. With arms restrained, he wormed his way up onto his knees.

“Cut her some slack.” Another giant entered, scantily clad and chewing on something. “Big Bertha’s rewarded her, said the next slave would be hers. Must be him.”

Lady Hex put her foot on Claeri’s chest. In accordance with her meek nature, Claeri didn’t move. “Did Bertha say that?”

“I’m sure she did.”

“Hmm.” Lady Hex rubbed the ball of her foot into Claeri’s left nipple. “I was told to give him to Bertha’s dogs, and that she’d take care of it later.”

“He…” Claeri put her hands around the ankle holding her down. “He was given to me…”

“What’s that? Got something to say?” Her foot moved up. She planted the ball of her foot on Claeri’s cheek, pressing her down. “I guess you’ll have to win your little toy back from your peers, then.” Lady Hex stepped off Claeri’s head and came over to Alden, snatching him up.

“Have your fun, I don’t think Big Bertha would mind,” the giant by the entry said.

The sun blared as Lady Hex took him outside. The Sorrel camp was full of enormous makeshift tents, the prominent one belonging to Lady Hex clearly denoting her status as one of the superiors. The cling of metal sounded along the chatter of conversation. The constant drumming of giant feet made it feel as if the earth underneath was growling.

Lady Hex rounded the hillside of a small mountain the Sorrel Clan had set camp against. Trees were more plenty there, tall pines with their leaves at the very top, which were twice the height of the average giant.

Alden peered back from Lady Hex’s fist. Claeri followed them. At first, she walked on both legs, then got down and proceeded like the dog she was designated as. Her bruised knees showed how common this was.

A few giants were seen drinking and lounging about, trying to straighten themselves at the sight of Lady Hex. Though she didn’t care about them. She headed for the large cave gaping into the mountain, a giant sitting by the entrance. She perked up at Lady Hex’s approach.

“Got something for Bertha’s dogs?”

The fingers holding Alden tightened around him. “A little treat.” The cave was so vast and sunwards there few dark corners therein. The ground was hard-packed soil, a streamlet from the mountain coursing through it. Lady Hex whistled without going too far inside. “I’ve got a snack for you. A young man, all tied up.” With that, Lady Hex chucked him into the cave. Alden soared through the air, rotating mildly.

A large face jumped up to meet him. The girl was young, with hazel eyes and long, straw-like hair. She was naked and dirty, and her open mouth was flying into him. Alden’s waist landed right on her lower lip, its upper counterpart immediately closing over his back. The tongue assaulted his chest and face. Alden flinched back, but there was nowhere to retreat. A stutter around him let him know she had landed from her jump, having caught him in the air like a dog after the ball.

A force pulled him inwards, yet her lips held him, suckling on him like a pacifier. His manhood was on her lower lip, the pull-and-release of her rhythmic suction bringing him over it in a rubbing motion which, if he hadn’t orgasmed twice today already, might have been pleasurable.

Another pair of lips found his free legs, thrown into the same pocket of humid air his torso was in. It sucked him out, and now the lips holding his waist weren’t playing anymore as they too pulled. It was a tug-of-war, the two halves of his bodies taken opposite ways. Both pairs of lips slid over him, the upper one to his shoulders and the bottom one to his knees.

A third mouth, catching the right side of his midsection. The tongue hungrily slipped in under his manhood and stroked it, her mouth kissing his belly and lower back. The tug of war met an abrupt end as each of the three ‘dogs’, if they could be called that, settled for the portion they had of him. The mouth Alden found his head inside smooched his chest and shoulder blades, the tongue exploring his face. The tip poked at his lips, trying to gain entry. Alden grunted, keeping his mouth shut. Squirming away did little, there was only an inch of free movement here-and-there. The three mouths had everything. Surrendering was the only option.

It felt as if a whirlwind had spawned within him, his body drawn in three different ways with unignorable force. They savored his skin as if it were coated with the purest sugar, lapping away at him so much that the saliva literally drooled off him. Their guttural huffs and half-moans were intimately close, especially the mouth he found his head inside, a cavernous echo vibrating from her vocal cords. The texture of tongue scratched his face, his manhood, and their overwhelming assault of hunger and lust was getting Alden there again.

It hurt, but he came once again. There were no more than a few droplets. The moment his seed was detected, their efforts doubled, the girl which had his middle dipping underneath and closing her mouth over his abdomen to get everything out of him. Alden thought he was about to get sucked apart.

“That’s enough!” It was Claeri’s voice. Fingers stuck in between the lips, a harder surface amidst the softness of mouth flesh. With a wet pop, the mouths let him free, and Alden saw fresh air again in the safety of Claeri’s fingers.

The girls chuckled, wiping their lips. “Thanks for the treat.”

“We’ll be back for more, don’t you worry.” They scattered back into the corners of the grotto, snickering as they went. Claeri took Alden back, leaving the entrance where she could sit cross-legged on a sparse tuft of grass. She wiped him over her chest and thigh, then when she deemed it futile, without asking, put him in her mouth and sucked. Unlike the others, her tongue did nothing, draining away the spit without adding any more to it. Alden had no reaction left in him; he’d been stepped on, strung up, sucked, chewed on and savored like a caramel, and he just lay on Claeri’s lap once it was all finished. Her pale torso was over him, that innocent face staring down at him.

“Are you ok?”

Alden lurched over to his side, nestling his head into her thigh. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It’s ok, you’ll be with me. Big Bertha said I could have my own slave. And I’m not the mean type.”

“I can tell… But I thought they were going to weigh their options, see what they would do with me. But it sounds like this is just decided, I’m just your slave now? The slave of a slave, what a way to end up.”

“Hey, I’m not a slave.” Claeri’s index tapped him on the head. “I’m Big Bertha’s favorite servant, and she rewarded me with a slave.”

“Sure.”

“But who are you? Are you someone important for them to investigate the way they are?”

Alden smiled. “Someone important. Hah. I’m the Artless, famous for my impotence.”

“Ooh, I’ve heard about him. Your dad didn’t like you, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” Alden breathed long and loud, at last relaxing from the hours of pressure and tension his body was under. His mind relaxed as well. He was here now; it was what it was.

Her fingers came to pat his hair and rub his belly.

Alden went for a question to restart everything. “Who are you? I mean before the Sorrel Clan took you in, how did you end up here?”

“I lived in a village out in western Wessfarrow. When I was a kid, some raiders came through our home. I had to run away. And then the Klint Clan found me and took me as a slave. After a while, they turned me into a giant. I tried to run away, but they caught me again. I’ve been through two other clans since then. Whoever wins the fight of whatever camp I’m in, I belong to them. The Sorrels are the latest, Big Bertha came through and put my previous camp to fire. So now I’m here.”

“So you were human at first?”

Claeri nodded. “I was seven when they turned me into a giant, so I’ve been a giant for ten years. But I like being a giant more.”

“Eleven years? You’re seventeen?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“That would make you as old as me, I thought you’d be younger. You seem…” Stupid was the first word which came to him, but he had to think of something else. “Unaware, innocent, you know?”

Claeri wrapped her fingers around him and brought him up to her pouting face. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No, of course not!”

“You wanted to say stupid.” With her other hand, she bopped him on the nose with a castigating finger. “That’s a bad boy. But it’s ok.” Her fingers opened to reveal his frontside, which she put her lips against and smacked a sharp kiss against. “I forgive you.” She noticed Alden’s squirm, her eyes going to his dick. “You don’t want to anymore?”

“It’s been too much,” he said.

Her finger flicked at his slack member. “It doesn’t feel good now?”

“It hurts more than anything.”

She was taken by inaction, making it clear what her next idea had been. Claeri looked down, tilting Alden that way too. Down the slope of her flat chest and abdomen, he realized now that her nakedness included a lack of underwear, leaving those pink lips between the legs free to the world. “Have you ever been there?” Claeri said.

“Uhm, no.”

“It’s ok, I’ll show you.” Her hand moved down, but stopped midway. Alden saw her perk upwards, focused. Alden tried to listen for what she was hearing. “She’s here,” Claeri said, putting Alden on the ground next to her.

Now he could feel it, the slight tremors tickling his legs where he sat. The leaves of the trees fluttered ever so faintly, a weak rustle heard among them if one listened intently. Footsteps were causing this, and Alden could only imagine what a unit this giant was. It had to be whom everyone kept mentioning.

Alden asked to make sure. “Who’s that?”

“It’s her,” Claeri said. “Big Bertha is coming.”

Claeri was on her knees, holding her head low. Alden mimicked her attitude and waited, waiting for the appearance of this hulking unit which caused these tremors no other giant could with mere walking.

The trees were shoved aside, and Big Bertha entered.

“Lord above…” Alden muttered. Most adult giants ranged between sixty-five to seventy-five feet, perhaps eighty at most. The stories claimed Big Bertha was just under a hundred, the largest giant Alden had and might ever see in his life. The sheer size of her as a giant wasn’t the only thing, but proportionally, she was massive. Had she been human, she’d likely be over six foot and four inches. Her globular breasts could smother a whole party of humans between them, the scant bra struggling to contain them. Big Bertha was in her thirties, a prominent jawline and bridged nose giving her a pronounced expression. Her hair was brought together into one thick braid, tracing her spine all the way to her tailbone. The expanse of tan, caramel skin was freely shown, as she only wore those bras and a pair of shorts. There was an old wound slashed on the middle of her left thigh, a healed scar beside her belly button. Two anklets encircled the lower end of her calves, not pinned with gems or beads, but larger stones. Granite, onyx, quartz, the stones were neither chiseled nor polished, their raw and jagged surfaces reflecting what every inch of Bertha’s being announced. Power and strength, the kind that shattered mountains.

It was her enormous height which helped distribute her mass. Big Bertha’s waist had a slight but noticeable curve that, despite her hulk, gave her a shapeliness. Her thighs were large pillars of flesh. They almost touched each other, and might have if she were any shorter.

And finally, with Alden’s full-body scan coming to the bottom, were her feet. Considering the rest of her and what he already knew, he shouldn’t have been surprised at their enormity, but he couldn’t close his mouth from the sheer awe of these monsters. The arch curved up nicely, Alden could crawl thereunder into a cozy little pocket even while she was standing. Each foot was equipped with five long, fleshed-out and shapely toes which could comfortably catch humans in their embrace. The toes were bulbous, round, and again, if it weren’t for her tall proportions, that amassment of muscle and size would have put her on the chubbier side. But there was plenty of room to put all that mass, filling her out nicely.

Claeri crawled up to her side, nuzzling against her thigh. The action wasn’t done with great fervor; she knew what Bertha wanted and was doing it. It earned her a couple of head-scratches.

“That’s a good girl,” Bertha said, a deep and dark voice. “I’ve been out a while, and it’s been hard work. They’re drawing a hot bath for me now, and I’ll need that mouth of yours there.” With a couple of pats on Claeri’s cheek, she signaled the end of her exchange with her, brown eyes turning to Alden. “So, you’re the Artless, famous for his failing.”

“I… I suppose that’s me.” Alden took his gaze off her toes. “What could someone as useless as me have to be taking any of your precious time and attention, oh Great War Queen Bertha?”

Big Bertha raised an eyebrow. “Quite a mannered one. You know very well who you stand before. We’ll see if we can make contact with that famous, resourceful father of yours, see what he wants for you. If it’s nothing, then we’ll see if anyone else wants something for you, your guild perhaps. And if you’re really so unloved…” Big Bertha’s left foot came forward, landing beside Alden’s right side. Her other foot flanked him, the tremors faint but there, and her enormity was straight above him. A mountain of flesh, right over him. Staring up past the enormous pillars for legs, Bertha had to bow her hip back so her head could see past those enormous breasts. “You’ll find a nice home here. Let’s take this conversation to the bath. I’m beaten, and I’ve already got a job for you.”

***

The bath was a smooth cavity in the sandstone ground, with several elevations chiseled onto its sides. A collection of gargantuan elm trees towered around them. Big Bertha lay naked in there, everything below her breasts submerged under the water. Claeri was hugged into her. The juxtaposition made her ridiculously tiny. Not only was Big Bertha over twenty feet taller, her large arm over Claeri made the contrast even starker. Nothing about Claeri was off when Alden saw her, yet here she was like a malnourished little child in comparison.

“Good girl,” Big Bertha said, adjusting strands of Claeri’s hair behind her ears. Claeri had her mouth around the areola of Bertha’s right breast, the teat pulsating towards her mouth as she sucked. Bertha’s legs were thrown across the width of the bath, barely covering its span with her length. On the opposite ledge she’d propped up her ankles. Her feet lay sideways, where Alden was, standing tall and putting his mouth against her big toe. “I’ve no shortage of men,” Bertha said. “A lot of slaves caught from villages and opposite clans that do everything I say. So you better do well. There’s competition.”

Despite Alden having ejaculated three times today, there was a drive. It had been some hours ago he’d been twisted into submission under Leila’s feet. The two other times was to Claeri and the other slaves’ mouths. During that time, the drive for feet slowly returned, and it helped that he was met with the most impressive pair he’d ever seen in his life. He wouldn’t throw a quality like beauty out so soon, Leila’s were made of beauty, but Bertha’s were impressive, the kind of awe one experiences when gaping up at a mountainous monument. Their size, the roundness of the toes, the depth of the arch and the multitude of wrinkles summoned at the whims of her movement, they were magnificent. Alden swiped his tongue along the rotund curvature of her big toe, the landscape of toe prints registering well on the sensory map of his tongue.

“She’s so big,” Alden whispered to himself. He took the nub of her big toe in his mouth and did to it what Claeri was doing to her nipple, trying to draw as much of it into his mouth as he could. When he had a decent portion of fluffy toe flesh behind his lips, he chewed, and dear god was it soft. Alden inadvertently moaned, his manhood rising with a reluctant ache. The ache was his body telling him he was finished, the rise of his cock was his pathetic character somehow finding a way to remain fixed to these desires. His mouth worked the toe as if it were tough meat, never breaking under his teeth, yet that never made him surrender his efforts. There was something spellbinding about its texture and the way it felt to chew on them.

“Ah.” Big Bertha’s head was tilted back, a hand over Claeri’s neck still urging her to go on. Alden couldn’t tell how much he has contributing, but a faint little twitch of her big toe pulled him with it, and Bertha bit her lip. “You’re good, young Artless. Maybe this is your art, the art of the foot worshipper.”

Her satisfaction boosted his efforts. Alden released her big toe with pop and moved down the length of it, leaving a road of kisses wherever his head went. Her feet had been soaked in water, much of the dirt gone, but they hadn’t seen any soap yet. Although distant, the sting of sweat and its hard work was possible to taste if one focused. Alden worked the upper part of the ball of her foot, at the junction between them and the toes where the flesh was particularly doughy. Bertha burst out a dark groan, the toes flexing in to grab his torso and give him a motivating nudge like her hand was on Claeri.

And so it went on. The steam was what kept Alden warm, and although he might have fancied a bath, it was not an option when his arms were tied. He worked his way down the row of toes, kneeling lower and lower until he had to crawl for her pinky toe. Even the smallest toe had its chewy resistance, so bulbous were they. When Alden finished, he stood again and put his body against the arch, resting his chin on the top of its width. He saw Claeri, so tiny in comparison, still giving her earnest efforts at those nipples. Big Bertha’s head was reclined back over the ledge, mouth ajar. Her eyes were just behind her cheekbones, unable to see if they were closed. If they were, he was convinced she was half-asleep.

Alden locked his lips around a mouthful of sole and thrust his manhood into her arch. Even though it hurt his groin to the point where the pain outweighed the pleasure, even though Alden wasn’t even forced to go this far, he kept thrusting until the painful orgasm plied its way through his lower abdomen. Four drops of cum oozed out. Alden staggered back, easing down on his butt and then lying on his back.

“Well, well,” Big Bertha said, her voice calm from the tranquil state she was still in. The foot he’d spent the last several minutes on turned aside, uncovering him. “No wonder your worship is of such a quality. It comes from lust, not duty.”

There wasn’t much shame left in Alden; after Leila, he’d lost most of it. Now he just closed his eyes and let himself drift in the warm vapors.

“However,” Bertha continued, “I’m not sure where you got the idea you can just use my foot to spill your seed like that. In my presence, you do it when I allow you to, that’s your first lesson here.” Alden heard the nearby shuffle of her feet. That round big toe sat on his cock, and it felt as if a hand made of pain clenched over his body. Alden kicked his legs up in reaction, and the second toe slid right underneath. The second and big toe pinched together. With a flexion of her ankle joint, she lifted him up with a toe-grip on his manhood and ass. Alden sighed and groaned, reflexively clamping his legs together to protect his jewel. But his legs only found their way around a doughy toe.

And then, she started curling her toes up and down, the big toe rubbing against his manhood. They lacked the dexterity of fingers, meaning Alden was simply flailed back and forth as a byproduct of the big toe rubbing against his cock.

Alden yelped. “Please, my lady, stop.”

“You’re not home, Artless.” Bertha’s tone was sharper, her expression more present as she adjusted her position to get a comfortable hold on him with her toes. “You’re not just my slave.” She patted Claeri, who had not wavered one bit from her task at those breasts. “You’re my bitch’s slave. You were instructed to worship, and you thought you deserved more, that you were better than that.”

“I… I didn’t know, I thought it was fine.”

“You thought it was fine, because you’ve been a spoilt brat.” His manhood throbbed, red and swollen under the never-ending flex of her big toe. “Much like any guildrat from Gharn. It’s interesting how even an unknown, lowly guild like yours, a failure like you, Artless, still manage to show the same Gharnian arrogance that pervades the east.”

The pain was unbearable. Alden bit his teeth together, huffing. An exceptional flex of her toes made him groan, alternating between that and the steady rubbing rhythm which was a never-ending scrape of agony. Even when she paused, the tightness of her toe-grip didn’t let up. Her toe imprints marked on his groin was like the wax seal upon a contract, designating him as her property.

He didn’t know for how long it went on, only that it felt like an eternity. But eventually, the agony peaked. The burning cramps traveled through his scrotum and up to his manhood. His increasing groans and hissing breath made her understand where he was at, and the frequency of toe-flexes increased. This orgasm was made of nothing but a sore tenderness, not a trace of pleasure detectable, so much so that Alden didn’t even know it was an orgasm until the mounting ache summoned a singular drop of cum from his tender cock. It dropped past his nose and put a dark dot of a stain on the soil.

The toes tossed him aside with a flick. He was nothing more than a spent ragdoll. “Get up, you worm.” Bertha’s words were immediate after his landing, not a moment’s rest was allowed. Her toes slapped the ground where she wanted him. “Return to worship. And I want the same quality of worship as before. If you don’t deliver, I swear, I’ll milk so much out of you that you’ll pass out.”

Alden slithered his way up onto his knees and kicked himself up. His lower abdomen and inner part of his upper thighs were a lump of feverish soreness, bringing some of his steps into a stumble. He made his way to the feet which lay sideways again, and he put his mouth to those toes again

Claeri had been instructed to bring a jug of cold water and something to eat. In the meantime, Alden received the full attention of Big Bertha’s stare. Those brown sharp eyes shot a spotlight of attention on Alden. Underneath its intensity, he was not allowed a single mistake. Her enormous feet were spread apart, five toes to either side, and Alden worshipped them as well as he could. Having been milked several times today, with the most excruciating one recently, there was no drive left. He licked her feet like any normal person would, against their will and like it were a job.

“Five kisses for each toe,” she’d say, and he’d do it. “Take it slow with the smaller toes, be romantic.” He delivered the slowness requested, deep kisses full of tongue action to the third and fourth toe. Bertha’s foot shifted forward, the big toe bent down. “Be rough with that one, get your teeth in it.” Alden wrestled with it, chewing on its doughy texture as she wanted. “Now get in between the toes, no teeth there. Massage with your lips. Use your throat and jaw.” Alden bit the soft toe gaps toothlessly, stretching his mouth wide to make his lips thin and hard so he could press the flesh effectively between them. He followed all her instructions for a long time, his cock hanging flaccidly throughout it. Sometimes his manhood would rub up against a toe or the ball of her foot, or she would intentionally tap it. Contact with his swollen member brought jitters of discomfort. Today, he was spent.

“Do they speak of me in Gharn?” Bertha said.

Interrupting his worship to answer seemed acceptable, so he said, “They do, your greatness. They call you War Queen Bertha.”

Bertha snorted. “They cower in their fancy mansions, giant and human alike. They know my advance will reach them one day.” Bertha cleared her throat, and with a tone that carried a switch of subject, said, “You’re not weak yourself. I didn’t get to hear much, but I was told you danced with Leila quite effectively.”

Alden wasn’t sure what to say, continuing as he was.

Bertha slipped the lower half of her feet into the water, letting the balls rest on the ledge. The toes were propped up, his task clear. He kneeled and started at the big toe.

“I’d like to see your talent at some point. How strong would you say your magic is? I understand you have no art, but beside that.”

“My base magics are strong enough that, whenever someone sees it, they assume I should have reached my art. They think I hide it. Then, if I say I’m the Artless, it makes sense to them.” After finishing his sentence, his mouth returned to the second toe.

“Hmm. If you’re a good fighter, you should consider fighting for the Sorrel Clan.”

Alden paused. Only a moment after did he recognize the seconds-long absence of worship, throwing his head back into the doughy embrace of her big toe. She didn’t seem to mind.

“We have mages in our rank too. The only thing that matters is your competence. Artless, armless, headless, whatever it is, names and condition don’t matter. As long as you’re not talent-less, there’s something to do here.”

“I thought you were going to try and ransom me?”

“I thought you deemed it a silly endeavor, that there was no chance anyone would surrender a gold piece for you. That doesn’t mean I’ll release you. What would I release you to do? Still returning to work for your guild, hoping you will one day impress your father. You’re gullible, Artless.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”Alden faced away, but the tip of her big toe delicately found his chin and turned him back. “Then why aren’t you in Wessfarrow, making something of yourself? We’re practical here. In Gharn, you’re cast aside, all because of your ignorant father, and still you roam around the outskirts of those lands, finding pitiful errands to run.”

Alden would never work for this clan. Yet, he had no answer to what she was saying. He couldn’t explain why she was wrong.

“Or you could decline my offer and be among the camp’s lowly slaves.” Her big and second toe grabbed his head. They were gentler now, rubbing against him leisurely. “But you just have that look about you, that you’re not satisfied with so little. You want to do something.” The plump toes deformed as they clenched around him, making room for Alden’s head. For a few moments, his head was fully encased, as if his skull was the end-form of molten glass dripped into this coffin of toe flesh. Satisfied with that, they released.

Claeri was there now, holding a jug of water in one hand and a loaf of bread on the other. The bread had cheese on it, with olive-colored spices sprinkled atop it. The gigantic foot left Alden as Bertha got up from the pool, the hot water cascading off her.

“Think about the offer, Artless,” Bertha said, reminding him of her enormity once again as her feet dove out of the water and slapped down on either side of him. She stood tall. Her legs flied ever upwards, stout and firm, converging at those pink lips which had swollen noticeably. All of Alden and Claeri’s worship had produced results. That pussy was large enough to fit more than one human in it. Bertha snapped her fingers. “My sweet dog.”

Claeri rounded the pool and came up to her side, refreshments presented. Bertha received them but didn’t take her eyes off Alden. “Take the bindings off him, let him swim. He’s not allowed to leave. Return to my quarters before sunset. And, Artless, don’t try anything funny. You will immediately end up on my bad side.” She chugged half the jug in one go, then waltzed away with her bread. Even her casual steps left dim vibrations along the ground.

Alden perked up. He shrugged in an effort to show his tied arms behind him. “She said to take them off, right?”

Claeri got on her knees and put the jug down. “I think so. But, you have to be a good boy and do as I say.” She gave him a castigating index finger. “You’re my slave, ok?”

“Pretty sure I’m Bertha’s slave.”

Claeri crossed her arms. “If you’re my slave, then you can be considered Bertha’s slave too. But you’re my slave first and foremost.”

“Well, could you unbind your slave? He’s quite uncomfortable.”

Claeri’s left hand wrapped around his legs, picking him up. She stared at him blankly, pressing her lips together nervously.

“Honest now, I’m so beaten up after today, my arms are sore, all I want is to float in that pool. I won’t try anything.”

“Good. Because you should know that I’m pretty fast.” Her free hand slipped in behind him, picking at the bindings. “Does it hurt there?” Claeri’s blue eyes were on his groin.

Alden nodded.

Claeri leaned in and planted a kiss on his member.

Alden writhed. “No, please.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll help.” She kissed again, and even her tongue slipped in underneath and stroked upwards.

The aching groins returned. “No, stop. Please. It’s not like that. It just hurts more.”

Her upper lips were over his belly button, the lower set cupping his scrotum. “Are you sure?” she mumbled into him.

“Really. I appreciate it. I feel undeserving, in a way. You’re full of love. But not there, not now.”

She continued picking at his bindings until they were off. Alden stretched his arms forward. His shoulder blades were practically crying with relief. Claeri observed him carefully, her nose and eyes right before him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything,” Alden said. “In the water, we’re immobile. Even if we can move our arms and summon magic, there’s not much to do in our empowered state. We won’t swim much faster, and we can’t really jump.”

She nodded. “Because if you start misbehaving, I’ll get punished too.” Claeri dipped her legs into the pool, lurching back in. The water reaching to her waist, Claeri waded into the middle, fingers clenched around Alden’s lower body.

“Thinking of it, why are you so full of love?” Alden said. “What have I done to deserve it?”

One of her shoulders drew up shyly, blushing. “You seem like someone I could be friends with.”

Alden could make sense of that reason. Leila humiliated and looked down on him, Lady Hex treated him like a tool, Bertha dominated him, the other girls who were called dogs savored him like a piece of candy. Amidst this circus, Claeri was normal, and her impression of Alden can’t have been very different. However, the impression on her was far stronger, a kind belonging to the family of ‘love at first sight’.

Claeri put him in the water. The moan escaped his mouth, he could feel it from his very lungs. The hot water washed the unease off him. For a moment, the day was gone, he had not been trampled under Leila’s foot. hadn’t been strung up, hadn’t been slobbered and sucked apart by hungry mouths and hadn’t had his poor member drained of all its contents. For a moment, he was gone, lost in peace.

When he opened his eyes, Claeri’s hands hovered about him, ready.

“Like I said, after the day I’ve had, a bath like this is all I want. Running isn’t on my mind now.”

“I’ve seen some who tried to run… It’s better if you don’t.”

Alden saw an angle there. “Have you ever tried to run?”

Claeri rubbed one wrist with the other hand, looking to see if anyone was nearby. “I don’t know.” The hesitance was good. He feared there would be undying loyalty.

Alden kicked idly, his knees splashing. “It’s yes or no.”

Claeri submerged in the water, up to her chin, like the way one would throw a blanket over themselves in embarrassment. “I don’t know where I would go, if I got away.”

“It’s easy for a giant to find work.”

Her large head drifted towards him, unable to take her eyes off his manhood. “Does it feel better now?”

“If you’re wondering whether or not I’m ready for another go, then the answer is no.”

She pouted. “I’ve been nice. You should be nice and give me something back.”

Alden turned around and swam closer to her mouth. “Of course I will. But, Claeri, I’m not looking for some exchange of cheap favors. I want a partnership. Something deeper, something beyond all this.”

She smiled, as Alden hoped she would. The moment he neared those lips, they smooched him on the head. “Me too. I haven’t known you long, but I think I like you.”

“Then let’s do it.”

The close atmosphere saw an interruption as she staggered in confusion. “Do what?”

“Let’s escape together.”

Claeri’s mouth opened in surprise, her breath sweeping over Alden’s face. His hands rested on her lower lips, floating before her head.

“Escape? What if we’re caught?” She spoke in a whisper, even though they were alone.

“We won’t be. This place isn’t a high-grade fortress or prison, it’s another degenerate clan in Wessfarrow.” Alden planted a kiss on her lip; he had to charm her. “We’ll get out, the world and all its opportunities lying before us, and we can do whatever we want.” The reality of Alden still having to work his guild jobs wasn’t as captivating of a proposition.

Alden was up and close, bring out his most flirtatious self, yet the lovesome Claeri who hadn’t been able to stop kissing him since he’d arrived wasn’t giving him so much as a smooch. Her eyes scanned the ledge of the pool, her nervousness evident. “What would we even do?” Claeri drifted back, leaving Alden to paddle himself afloat. “We’re safer here.”

“Safer here? In this camp of slaves and slavers, no-good thugs who like to bully anyone around them? And I’m only including the local camp, never mind its branches and the rival clans all around us, and with Gharn’s kingdom breathing down the throat of this country? We’re only safe until the next parade raid this camp and take us, and then we pray for the mercy of our new lowlife, thug overlords.”

Claeri said nothing. Her neck and collarbone emerged, one hand rubbing the opposite shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you this.” Alden swam towards her again. He had been here for just a day and seen how Lady Hex treated her. That had to be one of many instances. “You know this life better than anyone. Do you enjoy it? Do you want it to continue?”

She bit her lip, staring down at the water. No, she didn’t. Her body language screamed it, the words she kept for herself were full of the same sentiment. But something was missing. She liked him, Alden should have the tools to persuade her. He thought back to how she always kissed him, and he remembered the moment right before Big Bertha interrupted them. Claeri was aiming him between her legs, at her most delicate parts. Alden had something to bargain.

Claeri stood up further now, her small breasts above surface now. Alden made his way to those pale mounds, locked on that dark maroon nipple like a fish darting towards a bait. With a hug forward onto her breast, Alden kissed the nipple, a flesh so soft and yielding his face sunk right into it.

Claeri stuttered, a quiver in her voice. The first reaction took her backwards, leaving Alden alone on the water again. But she corrected that quickly, drifting back and presenting the nipple to him again.

“Imagine if we were free.” Alden opened wide and swallowed that nipple up, stuffing his mouth with it. Bertha’s toes had felt soft back then, but having this for contrast made all the difference. This was true softness, its celestial cleanliness giving it a sense of purity. Toes were for Alden’s unique preferences, but these nipples were true objects of worship. Her chest fluttered, beset with an irregular breath. “We could do this whenever we want.”

He glimpsed her expression, and she had both her fists balled up under her chin expectantly, trying not spill all her emotions. She was overjoyed at his devotion. The smile was suppressed, lips flat together. If Alden hadn’t had his love muscle left so fatigued from all the orgasms throughout the day, he feared he’d be the one charmed by her.

“Can’t we do it anyway?” Claeri said. “Here?”

Alden parted from the nipple with a suckling kiss. “Can we? Big Bertha owns us, Lady Hex can do whatever she wants. I’m not making excuses when I say my dick is all done for the day. Others just sweep by and take their turns. If we’re free, we’re the only ones taking turns.” His mouth returned to the nipple, kissing, licking, and sucking. This was more rewarding. At Bertha’s toes, Alden’s best efforts were simply something expected. Her attention was full of demand. Claeri’s reception was more thankful. It filled her with genuine bliss to be the object of such attention. Even though lust didn’t drive Alden anymore, it meant something to do this.

Her hands wrapped around him, picked him up. Alden was brought before her face, where she came forward and planted a deep kiss over his head and chest. “Thank you.”

“You’re sweet.” Alden caught a tuft of her wet, tendril-like hair, thick as a coil of rope to him. He would have adjusted it behind her ear if he could reach. Instead, he ran his fingers through the strands. “What do you say? The two of us, on our own path?”

“It sounds nice.” Claeri waded her way back to the ledge, cuddling Alden up against her nose and lips. “But… let’s wait.”

Alden didn’t mind that answer. He had to build the case. It would be terribly optimistic to expect her to hop on his plan so soon, a plan which, honestly, Alden himself hadn’t known about since a few moments ago. It was either this plan, or taking Big Bertha’s offer.

This was something he should tell Claeri. “I’d rather make it out of here with you than work with the Sorrel Clan, even if Bertha made a pretty good offer.”

“A good offer?” The pool sloped up, where Claeri could sit, holding Alden against her left breast.

“She said I should work here, that there’s human mages in the Sorrel Clan, and that whoever makes themselves useful will climb the ranks. It might be the first time someone has made an offer like that after finding out I’m the Artless.” He ended the sentence by circling his tongue around her nipple. It had stiffened.

“Uhm, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Claeri said.

Alden had to contain his smugness, trying to make his smirk look like something born of curiosity. “And why is that?” he asked in pretend curiosity. It was a basic bargaining move; let the interested parties know other buyers are interested.

“They won’t take you seriously. You’ll always be at the bottom. They have their own people, and only they are allowed anything around here.”

“Interesting,” Alden said. “Though I might try it out still.” The skies were getting darker, the evening coming towards an end. “Didn’t Bertha say we had to be at her quarters before sunset?” He punctuated his previous point by applying his most delicate swirl of tongue-action to her nipple yet; here, in their imprisonment, their action was interrupted. Together, out there, they would be for themselves.

“Hmm, yeah.” Claeri watched the skies beyond the great treetops, then back to Alden. She brought him lower, and lower, past her ribcage then belly button. The water neared, his legs were dipped back into their flowing warmth, and her pink lips were before him. Claeri said nothing, though what followed didn’t surprise him. Her cupped hands over his backside, Claeri hugged him into her pussy. The mood wasn’t one of fiery action, she held him still and steady before the heat of her most sensitive flesh, only snuggling. Acting accordingly, Alden stuck his head out to reach the top, where the clit was hiding, and rubbed his cheek against it. She sighed, long and deep. Alden gave it a kiss, no more than that.

“I like you,” she said.

“So do I,” Alden said. A part of him felt guilty. He was manipulating her, in a way. Once he was out of here, he would find his way back to his ordinary life, and perhaps try and see where Claeri could find hers. She was pretty, sweet, and loving, but he was lying if he said he wasn’t spinning her a fable. Once they were out of here, things would end between them. However, Alden trusted himself that he wouldn’t drop her all cold and sudden. It would be a smooth transition, an amicable break-up, for she deserved that. Those problems were also lesser than the one he faced now, captivity in a Wessfarrow clan with an uncertain future. Above all, he had to escape this. All other problems were secondary.

After spending some time in his thoughts, Alden returned to the present moment and realized it felt different. He was still snugly encased between her hands and her pussy, but he thought he could hear her heartbeat now. A steady pair of drums coming every second, relaying anxiousness, a fear of loss. These were Claeri’s emotions. He wasn’t guessing or reading her expressions, he knew this to be true.

Alden’s body was lost on him; he was no small figure in this vast pool anymore, but he was sitting on its ledge, and its size befitted him. Its bottom was underneath his feet, his head high in the skies, the treetops level with his eyes.

He was giant.

Alden snapped back. No, he was small, this pussy his peer. It was when his head left her clit that he felt the return to his own body. Claeri’s eyes were wide open, frowning at her surroundings.

“What’s wrong?” Alden said, then added, “Did you feel something strange?”

“Yeah… I don’t know what it was. I felt powerful, I think. I’m not sure if it’s possible to feel power like a sensation, but that was it.” They shared a moment of silence.

What was that? Alden had never experienced anything near it, for all his time as a mage.

“Oh, no.” Claeri cut their affair short as she got up from the pool, Alden in her hand. “It’s getting late. We can’t be late, or Bertha will get mad.”

Claeri jogged through the sloped woods, some trees level with her and others taller. “I’m worried. She said before sunset. I think it’s already past that.” Claeri began panting, holding Alden against her chest.

“What will she do?” Alden said.

“Punishment. She’s punished me before, it hurts. Sometimes it feels good, but then she goes too hard.” The murmur of conversation steadily slipped into earshot again as they left the pools, the woodlands more leveled beyond the hillside. Unfinished roads popped up, a few stragglers from the camp loitering thereabout. Some of them were drunk, a cackling laughter here, a poorly told joke there. They leaned on trees, a few dozing off in the underbrush.

“Hey, there’s the sweetling!” a giant called, and Alden could see on the way they loitered about with drinks in their hands that they were the no-good bullies of the camp. One of them groped her own breast. “Hold up, we want to talk to you!”

Claeri picked up her pace, a worried look back revealing she had history with them.

“Stupid thing will get it later,” one of them muttered. Fortunately, they didn’t pursue.

Claeri and Alden got closer to camp, massive tents casting their silhouettes against the late evening sky. A herd of greatox marched back into their enclosure. Daytime had settled, the clang of metal was gone and the susurrus of conversation lower and more personal between the occasional giants thereabout. Past the tents and two bunched sections of trees, an exceptionally large tent stood. That had to be Big Bertha’s. Its roof was flat and firmly supported, a few decorative banners hanging off it, their details unclear in the absence of daylight. A dim gloom radiated off its canvas walls from the lighting within.

Claeri entered. The room was lit by one central fire pit, the plate of metal wide enough so the burning logs were far away from falling over the edges. Smaller candles were scattered over the tent, upon tables and shelves and the night stands. While most tents had mattresses and blankets, Big Bertha had a fine bed of her own. Its wood had an oddly intricate pattern of carvings, with an aristocrat’s bombastic show of art, while also having tears and even a missing head upon one of the poles. Stolen, most likely. Plundered might have been a better word, for Big Bertha didn’t feel like the thief scurrying through alleyways and dipping into her hideout the way rats find their way to the hole. A massive metal shield lay sideways against her bed, a large B worked into its anterior design. Beside it were a pair of sturdy gladiator sandals, not something Alden assumed she often took to battle, for no non-magical material would keep any footwear intact when exposed to the pressure of a giant’s weight, especially not Big Bertha.

Big Bertha stood before her bed. From where Alden sat in the cup of Claeri’s hands against her breast, seeing Bertha made Claeri suddenly appear small again. At first sight, Alden thought Bertha was naked, then thought she actually wore something, and finally, upon identifying what it was covering her breast and womanhood and legs, felt he had to redefine what clothes really were in order to consider her dressed.

She wore humans. The men were tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. One man on a nipple each, and the rope spanning her breast to tie their wrists together should have been longer for all parties to be comfortable. Instead, they were too short, perpetually squeezing them into those two firm globes of fat that happily gave way to their enforced advance. In that battle, the tits were easily winning. The two young men wriggled to perhaps get that annoying shoulder into a better position, pull the leg to where they eased a particular ache and allocate the strain to another joint or muscle. Their faces were drained of energy, while Bertha’s tits could take much more. The rope continued around her upper back, locking them onto those nipples. Another young man dangled from her necklace, arms tied to them, pocketed between her breasts. Four others completed what looked like a pair of panties. Two of them had one side of her hips each, tied to one another around her waist. Another round of ropes tied them to the next pair, one of which acted as the delicate flap which was supposed to cover her pussy, and the other was further along the curvature of her bottom, hugged by her ass cheeks. The panties looked skimpy, insufficient from the simple fact that one human was too small for the task of covering her womanhood. Those bulging, pink lips were infringing on his territory little by little, closing around one of his legs while trying to swallow his torso too. Given more time, they’d have him fully swallowed.

Four more were found around her legs. Two for a thigh each, tied together around their voluminous circumference like some poor decorative garland. Although one person wasn’t enough to wrap around her ankle, the anklets were only made of one young man each, their wrists reaching around to their own lower legs. Her feet were flat on the ground, squishing whoever was underneath, and Alden knew they were there. The bindings wrapping around her toes and foot and heading underneath gave it away. He didn’t doubt that the largest pair of feet he’d ever seen would have no trouble housing more than a few humans thereunder.

Two for her breast, four for her panties, four around her thighs, two for her ankles, and at least four more under her feet; she was practically dominating them every passing second without doing anything. Merely existing was enough. The bindings were all purposefully tight too. The panties cut into her, which helped her pussy slowly give way to that one man and swallow him up.

“Dear god,” Alden muttered. He’d never seen anything like it. He truly was far from home.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Claeri said, her sweet voice hopefully an asset as she lowered her head and stepped towards the fire pit. “I lost track of time.”

“That is unusual for you.” Bertha was stone-faced, chin raised high. She pointed beside her. “Come here.”

Claeri got down, holding Alden against her as she crawled towards Bertha.

“I rewarded you with a slave,” Bertha said. “But it seems you’re not ready to have one yet.” Throughout all this, the several young men stretched tight across Bertha’s body were present. They were treated as nothing but accessory, and in accordance with that, said nothing.

Claeri sat back, hugging Alden into her chest. “Please, don’t take him from me. It was only one mistake, there won’t be any more, mistress.”

“Won’t there?” Bertha leaned forward, hands on her hips. “How will you show it?”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Will you?” Bertha stood tall again. One hand on her hip, she snapped her fingers. “Slaves.” All the young men worn across her started licking. The pair on her breasts grabbed nipples with their mouths, the one by her pussy licked the vaginal lips that were slowly engulfing him. Waist, thigh, feet, everyone else kissed whatever expanse of flesh was before them. The symphony of worship didn’t change Bertha’s composure, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “What can you offer me that’s special?”

“I’ll do it better than anyone else,” Claeri said. “They’re nothing, they’re useless.”

Bertha chuckled. She snapped her finger again and everyone stopped. Bertha stepped closer to Claeri, presenting her open palm. “Give him.”

“Wh—” Claeri recoiled at first, correcting herself by coming forward again.

“I’ll return him to you tomorrow. Or is there a complaint I hear? Should it be next week?”

Claeri shook her head, putting Alden onto Bertha’s palm. “Of course not, mistress.”

Bertha’s fingers closed around him. “Good. You sleep on the floor tonight. I’ve been kind to you this night, don’t forget that.”

Claeri nodded, head submissively hanging low. Bertha walked to the bed, her steps surprisingly subtle. They fit the late night atmosphere, the firelight flickering hypnotically within the tent. As she walked, her humungous soles flashed the score of humans tied under them. They were four per foot, completing flesh pads that had the unenviable task of receiving all her unearthly weight. The only upside was the meatiness of her soles, the cushy soles helping to dampen some of the impact.

Bertha crawled onto her bed, half-lying against the back end. Dim but noticeable, one could hear the slight grunt and choked breaths from the poor young men she wore, never prepared for the jerking motions they were cast into as Bertha moved.

Bertha put Alden onto her stomach. Her hand didn’t let him go, applying a passively oppressive force on him, making him sag into her flesh. He saw the scar near her belly button. “Have you spent some time thinking about my offer?”

Alden glanced at Claeri, who sat by the bedside with a gloomy look. “It’s too soon to make a decision, my lady.”

Bertha clicked with her tongue, her face staring at him between those two globes of flesh. “Indecisive.” Her index sat on the back of his head. Together with a playful flex of her abdomen, Bertha tapped him on the head. “But at least you didn’t try to run. Did you have fun with my sweet dog? She’s a charmer, isn’t she? Not the devious, tactical kind of charmer, but an unknowing sweetness drawing you in, without both you and her knowing it.”

“I’d say our conversation was free from all those layers,” Alden said. Though that wasn’t true, but he’d been the conniving one in their interaction.

“Hmm.” She picked him up, measuring him. With a slight tilt of her wrist, she pointed him towards her breast, to the two naked men tied to her areolae. “They can’t do anything. They’re from a human village up further north, who supported a rival clan, and then the kingdom of Gharn. So I went there, taught them a lesson, killed their mages and took their young men. I have leveled villages, brought giants and humans to heel. I have eradicated the names of two clans, united multiple districts. I am bringing this continent together, and then we will take care of Gharn.”

“Your reputation is everywhere,” Alden said, bowing his head as well as he could in her hand. “In Gharn, they speak of you as a big problem. When they saw promise in me, they trained me in the belief that I could be the one bringing peace to these lands. But after… well, since I ‘became’ the Artless, I’ve always tried to keep my head out of it.”

“They won’t just be speaking of it, they’ll witness it.” Bertha’s other hand traveled down between her legs. The man who was tied to her pussy was already half inside, gradually slipping deeper and deeper in. Bertha put her index and middle finger on his back and rubbed up and down, massaging him into her lips. Her eyes remained on Alden. “Imagine if you joined our cause, taking down the country that spat on you, the elite who deemed you worthless. Imagine if you could stare them in the eyes, in the glory of your victory, and let them know what a mistake they made. Your father especially, that pompous Gerard Oakwell. I have wanted to fight him for a long time.”

Alden didn’t want to reject her outright. “It just sounds too good to be true.”

“Not under my command.” Bertha’s mouth opened for a long yawn, her uvula visible. She was left teary-eyed from it, taking her fingers off the one at her pussy. Almost his entire body was submerged now, though Bertha brought him out with a tug at the strings. He was snapped back in place, hitting her pussy with a fleshy slap. Alden was taken there. “Good night, Artless.” She pried her panties away, meaning the man affixed to her lips, and plunged Alden right in. Hot and squishy, there was plenty of room within her vaginal walls. The other young man was put back in place over her pussy, and now being so close, Alden could hear him grumble a low complaint.

He felt a little sorry for Claeri too. She liked him the most yet had spent the entire day watching everyone have their way with him. However, it helped support the argument Alden made for her, that here, they were everyone’s plaything. If they escaped, they would be for themselves. Or that was the dream he was trying to sell her, at least.

The vaginal walls squeezed around him, a sharp poke here-and-there revealing she was poking at her lower abdomen with her fingers. She turned over and lay on her side, Alden’s tunnel shifting with it. With a leg crossed over the other, it became tighter. Tighter, but still spacious enough. Even though he found himself inside a pussy, he could close his eyes and find a restful position. It dawned on him what a tough and long day it had been, this ridiculous chain of events starting by that homestead, fighting with Leila’s little sister, Mimmie. And then Leila. Alden couldn’t get over her striking appearance. Most boys would consider it a success to get a girl like that. Alden had genuinely caught her interest, only to spoil it away to a base lust, lapping away at her toes until he came.

Somewhere along those thoughts, Alden fell asleep. He fell right into a clear dream, where he, the size of a giant, walked upon a set of hilly plains. The sun blared, it was midday. No, Alden wasn’t steering his body, and on the lower end of his peripheral vision he could see the massive pair of breasts protruding from the chest. This wasn’t him. The experience reminded him of the one at the pool with Claeri, where, for a moment, he felt giant. This particular giant also wore a shield on her right hand, one which reminded him too well of the one he’d just seen in Bertha’s tent. There was no mistaking it. This was Bertha, and he couldn’t possibly be dreaming himself into her body.

These were Bertha’s memories.

Alden didn’t merely see what Bertha saw in her memories, he saw glimpses of her mind and what she knew. The Sorrel Clan had been tipped off about a secret mine near a village which was harvesting magical minerals and shipping them to Gharn. Bertha was headed to fix this issue.

Brandishing her trusted shield on her right forearm, Bertha wore a short skirt barely reaching the knees and a brassiere keeping her large breast in place. Around her midriff, wrists, ankles, and neck, she wore bands of bony trinkets. They were the remains of humans, long bones and skulls and ribs and shoulder blades clinking as she went. A few human-sized cabins near flatter terrain could be seen, and its people scurried inside at the sight of her, even though those measly wooden structures would do little to stop Bertha’s advance, if she chose to go after them. Any suspended decoration or piece of pottery swayed, bells chiming and weakly made doors creaking from the hinges; Bertha’s mighty feet shook the very earth. Especially when she marched as she did, purposefully stamping her soles down to enhance the desired tremors. Behind her, a trail of clear footprints was left in the grassy plains. Anyone who saw them would be left slack-jawed at their size, wondering how it was possible for giants to reach such height. Even then, they’d wonder how those prints were so massive, and perhaps they might reach the terrifying conclusion that the War Queen Big Bertha had come.

A clear path showed itself, wounding through the grass, over the hills, and towards a village. Near the village was a great opening into the earth, the quarry, both huddled around a smaller mountain. The mines were there at the beginning mountain line. A few giant-sized pine trees helped keep the deeper portions of the village hidden. At a quick glance, it might seem like another couple of cabins.

A set of humans approached her from the village periphery, to meet her outside the village. An older man stood at the front, the chieftain, flanked by a V-formation of men and women behind him. All mages, most likely. Their united arrangement revealed they had prepared themselves, likely having scouted Bertha from afar. It was one of Bertha’s weaknesses, she wasn’t subtle. But her strength compensated for that quite well.

They stopped a distance away, expecting Bertha to do the same. “What brings you here—”

They stopped, but Bertha hadn’t. Her march continued until she stepped on top of the two nearest mages standing to the chieftain’s sides. She stood astride him, everyone else backing off with a ready globe of shining energy over their hands.

“I’ve come to look at your mines,” Bertha announced. She stood with the left hand on her waist, the right one holding the shield. She didn’t even bother making eye contact with the chieftain; that required her to stoop forward. It made him feel that much more insignificant, that he had nothing but the bottom of a skirt to look up at and communicate with. The decoration of human bones she wore also caught anxious looks.

“I’m not sure your great magnificence would fit through our tiny spaces.”

“I’ll squeeze through.” No one mentioned the issue of the two mages unwillingly relegated to partaking in this conversation from the cramped underground of Bertha’s dirty soles.

“That would cause great damage to our roads and buildings, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a sacrifice we’ll have to live with.” Bertha raised her right foot, scrunching her sole to make the flattened mage come loose. He dropped back to the footprint on the grass, where he belonged. “And I’ll want to see all of your products.” She did the same with her left foot, two mages out of commission, then planned to keep walking. Bertha was well aware that all the mages had encircled her.

In the periphery of her vision, she kept an eye on them, knowing the chieftain would give a non-verbal command. She decided she wouldn’t wait, and her decision was rewarded. They indeed decided to attack, right as Bertha pivoted on the next step and leaped forward. They cast their magic, and Bertha found two new mages under her feet. The globes of energy hit her shoulder, leg, and stomach, and their prickling impact was pitiful. The most significant one was the one on her stomach, which was like a harsh finger jabbed into her.

Bertha laughed. “Is that it? I should have sent my slaves to handle this issue.” She kicked with her feet to throw the two newly trampled mages away. A few of the mages already broke from the formation, escaping back to the village.

“Wait, stop!” the chieftain called. “We cannot let her destroy our home.” Bertha’s shadow fell over him. She grabbed him in her hand.

Several mages jumped up towards her, their bodies brimming with colored energy. Bertha swung her shielded arm upward, a few metallic clunks thudding as she literally swatted them away like flies, sending them skyward.

“Helping Gharn, you little scum?” Bertha said, standing tall with the chieftain in her hand. All the defending mages had retreated to the village, behind the trees. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I wouldn’t come, like I am today, to show you the grievous mistake of betraying this country?”

“Wessfarrow is no country!” the chieftain called. “We have run this village ourselves for centuries, no banner you put on our lands will change that!”

Bertha walked towards the village, holding the chieftain before her face. “If I don’t own this village, how is it that I can do whatever I want with you and all your people, you weak fool?”

Shrouded amidst the leaves, three mages jumped at her from the trees. Bertha didn’t flinch like they might have expected. She snapped forward with an open mouth, catching one of them between her teeth. The two others struck her collarbone with their magic-infused fists, causing Bertha to recoil back. That brought her chest upwards, and they had no time to jump off before her cleavage swallowed both. Bertha squeezed her chest together and sealed them in, no option to move. Meanwhile, she chewed wildly, pummeling the mage in her mouth with her teeth while also wrestling him about with her tongue. The precise strikes of her tongue didn’t allow him to wave his arms about and cast any magic. Bertha chewed aggressively for another couple of bites before spitting him out to be kicked away. The mage crashed right through the rooftop of a house like a projectile, its inhabitants pouring out in fear.

“Watch closely, all of you!” Bertha shouted, stepping through the obstructing branches. A decent amount were in the streets, others peering out through their windows. “I would defend this village with my life if any outsider threatened it. Instead, you betray this country, you help outsiders who try and kill me and destabilize Wessfarrow. I am your ruler, and you have earned my wrath.” Bertha brought her skirt up and plunged the chieftain right into her pussy before them all. “Repent, you worms!”

Bertha kicked her way through a couple of houses, timber and clay scattering as if spat out from a tornado. The quarry beside the mountain was in her sight. She unstrapped the shield affixed to her forearm. Leaning back with a turn, twisting her waist, she wound her arm around the ledge of the shield. With athletic strength, she spun and cast the disc forward, and the shield struck a prominent chunk of cliffside higher up, the crunch of ston. It broke off and brought about a rockslide cascading down the mountain. “There you come, like rats scurrying out of your holes.” The miners and every worker alike spilled out from the mines, everyone distancing themselves from the mountain. They were shepherded right towards Bertha.

She retrieved the two mages smothered in place between her breasts and threw them onto a rocky surface. Bertha walked on top of them, and upon stone, their magic wouldn’t defend their bodies as well. Their bones crunched underneath her doughy soles, and Bertha marched on towards the quarry and all the miners, licking her lips.

***

Alden snapped awake. If asked by someone before all this, he wouldn’t have described Bertha’s adventures to be any tempered, diplomatic ordeal, but seeing it instilled him with a new fear. Villages and lives were snuffed out under her merciless advance.

However, Alden didn’t have much time to process the visions he’d seen before realizing what had woken him. A tongue, prodding at his face. He was still inside Bertha’s pussy, a hotter and more cramped place than he remembered before falling asleep.

“You better work harder than that if you really want it.” That was Bertha’s voice, her pelvis rocking forward and throwing Alden about within her. The tongue was Claeri’s. Her mouth and tongue worked hard to open Bertha’s pussy, and through the opened tunnel Alden could see her pale face and blue eyes peeping in to see her progress. After a scouting report, her mouth came over the exit, the tongue poking back inside.

Alden crawled towards the exit, but didn’t make it far before a force from above pinned him in place. Bertha’s index found the right spot on her lower abdomen.

“Oh no, you just sit comfortably in there. Only she’s allowed to do any work.” Claeri’s tongue poked in again, spearing his face. The tip swirled about on his nose, forehead, mouth. With a weak upwards flick, she tried to scoop him out with a hooking motion under his chin. A tongue dripping with saliva and vaginal walls excreting their thick love liquids made for an exceptionally slippery combination. The difficulty made it take more time, to Bertha’s benefit, as she got to lie down and be subject to more of Claeri’s mouth-work on her most sensitive parts.

Claeri got a better grip on Alden’s head, her tongue-flicks sliding him out an inch here-and-there. Soon enough, she could slip most of her tongue in under his naked front and retract, sliding him out.

There had to be something Alden didn’t know, for Claeri didn’t pull back and declare it done. She grabbed Alden with her mouth and smothered him into the bloated lips, as if they were the floor needing to be cleaned and Alden was the sponge. Bertha’s moans intensified, the muscles in her neck tensing, her abdomen flexed, the two slaves tied to her nipples jiggling about as she shook. Alden found his head pancaked between the clit and the strongest efforts of Claeri’s facial muscles, essentially kissed into it, and he thought he would melt in all the softness. In all the chaos, he couldn’t differentiate cum from spit, but he tried to cough out whatever found its way into him.

Everything was upended. Bertha flipped over, clamping her chunky thighs around Claeri’s helpless little head. Claeri was on bottom, Alden on top of her nose, and Bertha sat over them. She finished the job herself, slamming her pussy down on top of Alden and humping Claeri’s face with him.

“You like him so much?” Bertha said though clenched teeth, huffing. “You’d dare be late? I said before sunset. That means before sunset, nothing else.” She closed her fingers around Claeri’s scalp, holding her in place as the relentless pussy and inner thigh flesh swabbed over her, bringing Alden with. Claeri tried to grimace her face shut, her head burrowed into the bed under Bertha’s weight.

Bertha let a guttural roar rip, showing the darkest depths of her vocal cords. With a spastic jolt of her hip, an explosion of sticky cum was vomited out of her pussy. The humps didn’t end immediately, they abated in strength, a lazy slide still secreting a bit of cum. Alden and Claeri would have drowned in it if she didn’t get off at last, falling forward back on the bed.

It took him a couple of moments, but Alden raised his head from where he lay across Claeri’s cheek. Seeing the state of her, all beaten and wet for a thing one could hardly call a mistake, Alden knew it was something he had to act on. There was no way she was ok with this, and Alden would make her see that.

Alden and Claeri’s head lay on a large stain of cum on the bed, Bertha’s legs hemming them in. The human-made panties Bertha wore had been tugged off at one side, letting it slide partway off her thigh. All the slaves were still there during all this, those she wore on herself. No one needed to be consulted, she could do whatever she wanted and they had no say in the matter.

It was morning, the morning light brightening the canvas walls. Alden rolled off Claeri’s face with a slimy slip, landing on the soaked blankets. Claeri stirred to his motion, and her sweet lips came together and gave him a peck on the face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But she likes it that way.” Claeri looked like a mess, her hair scattered in bunched, wet tendrils, as if she were cast ashore by a stormy ocean.

Alden patted her lip. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How is it now?” Claeri used her tongue as a finger, and she prodded at his manhood. “Better?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, good morning to you all.” The woman’s voice was familiar. Lady Hex entered the tent, hands on her waist as she circled the bed. “Don’t you have a habit of indulging, Oh Mighty Bertha?”

“Indulge?” Bertha squirmed as if newly awake, brought out from her orgasmic slumber. She turned aside, both her legs brought to the same side of Claeri and Alden. “With all the work I have upon myself, I better make sure to indulge when I’m home. I have to overcompensate for all my missed time.” Bertha collecting and combed her scattered hair with her fingers. “I can’t dawdle about in camp like you do.”

“Dawdle?”

“Or whatever you do when you play with your trinkets and potions.”

“Potions and trinkets you have good use for.”

Bertha smiled, waving Lady Hex away. “I jest, don’t annoy me.”

“I bring interesting news.” Her eyes went to Alden. “The seed I retrieved from him. I used my most basic formula, and it already produced something that gives strengthening properties.”

“Strengthening properties?”

“I used it on a slave, and they felt not only revitalized, but gained the courage to fight back when I left them. They almost escaped, with the sudden strength to make it possible.”

Bertha twisted her mouth, impressed. “Huh. I told the Artless he might have a future here as a fighter.” Bertha took a tuft of Claeri’s hair and idly played with it.

“Turns out, he might be a far more valuable resource than that,” Lady Hex said. All this talk made Claeri defensively wrap her fingers around Alden’s body, bringing him towards her chest.

“What does it mean?” Alden said. He was both curious and afraid, curious since his he’d never been spoken about in promising contexts since it was known he was the Artless, and afraid for where these findings might lead.

“For alchemy, the properties of a mage’s seed varies, but usually, once they’ve reached their art, there’s an incredible improvement in its potency. Your seed exhibited such characters.”

“The characters of me having an art?”

“The characters of mages who have reached their art.” Lady Hex stepped closer, her thighs touching the bedside. Claeri’s fingers tightened around Alden’s body. “You don’t have an art, but your inner workings aren’t the same as a mage who wasn’t reached theirs yet. You’re not that simple.”

“So you’ve found a reason to take my favorite dog’s slave from me?” Bertha said, a hint of playfulness. Alden didn’t like that playfulness. She wasn’t serious about preventing him from being taken by Lady Hex.

“He’s a complicated case, but one I can crack with time. But I’ll be needing him.”

Bertha cast away the tangle of Claeri’s hair she twirled with. “That should give you plenty of motivation, Artless. Fight for me, or be subject to Lady Hex’s experiments.”

Lady Hex frowned. “Should this even be a debate? What will he make, a mediocre base mage in your ranks, if he’s even committed? Or a toy for your ‘favorite dog’, or whatever you call this pale weakling? Just get her some other human slave to fuck. The benefit he can bring us all if I get him far outweighs anything else he might do under your command.” Claeri pressed Alden deeper into her chest, caving forward to bring him in.

“Now now, this is a discussion for another time,” Bertha said.

“I want to have it now.”

Bertha sighed. With her knee, she nudged at Claeri’s back. “Out of here. Get washed, and be at the training grounds before noon. Do not be late this time.”

“Yes, mistress.” Alden tight in her clasp, Claeri slipped away from the bed and scurried out of there. Lady Hex just started her argument as they exited the tent, greeted by the morning sun. Alden shielded his eyes.

“I know a place we can go,” Claeri said, dashing off, her small little feet padding on the soil.

“To do what?” Alden said.

“Get washed… and be together.” She kissed him on the head. He was getting used to casually being peppered with her love this way. He wasn’t tired of it. Alden didn’t love her as much as she seemed to love him, but he was new to this kind of affection and welcomed it.

Claeri left the hills and followed a stream coursing from them. To humans, it was like a broad river. The trees gave way to flatter terrain where a few giants were practicing against one another, the ground in a constant tremor from them tossing each other about. Past a few more tents, tall elm trees returned, and Claeri found the stream again. By a lonely clearing she sat, panting, holding Alden against her.

“What’s stopping us from going now?” Alden said. “Let’s continue.”

Claeri’s thumb scratched up against his front, her eyes nervously watching the distance.

“You’re only constrained mentally. It’s in your head. Just walk, that’s all it takes. Make those first steps and it’ll start feeling easier. You owe this place nothing.”

“Big Bertha is scary.”

“I…” The things he’d seen in his sleep returned, the way she demolished that village and crushed humans under stone. “I know. That’s why we need to get away from her.”

“Uhm.” Claeri scratched her cheek. The cum had dried on them both, leaving their skin glossy. “Let’s clean up first.” She bent forward toward the stream, splashing water on her face with a hand. Alden was let go by the bank, where he too took a dive. The water was cold, a sharp spike of adrenaline bringing him back. He jumped out with a huff and gasp, shaking his limbs.

Claeri’s hands found him again, bringing him to her mouth. Her hot breath was a safe haven from the freezing water, as well as her tongue. She swiped her tongue over his body repeatedly, throwing in a couple of kisses between, and at last transitioned to tongue-filled kisses. From cum to water to saliva, Alden was warm again. His manhood stood ready, still with an ache from yesterday, but replenished enough for more.

Claeri planted one last kiss on his head, drawing back, and Alden lost himself in her blue eyes. She was such a sweet thing, made of love.

“Are they going to take you from me?” Claeri said, twisting her mouth in concern. “Big Bertha didn’t seem serious about it.”

“I don’t know, but it sounded that way. Lady Hex wants to make potions using me. Claeri, I beg of you, let’s run now.” He bobbed his head at the woods, past her. “We can’t just stick around. This won’t last. You heard them talking.” Alden reached out and touched her lips. He didn’t know how insincere he’d sounded before, but this was no act he performed. This was genuine. “Please, Lady Hex will make me her alchemic milking cow for the rest of my life. Right now, you’re the only one who can save me. Save both of us.”

Claeri nodded. There was a slight frown on her, a kind of aggression born of determination. “Yes. You’re right.”

Hope welled up in Alden, a source of warm energy blooming within. He leaned forward from her hand and kissed her lips, the large pair returning a peck.

“Later…” Claeri said, tilting him down to see the length of her body. “Could you kiss me down there? Treat me like a proper lady?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, anything you say. I’ll treat you like a goddess.”

She blushed and giggled girlishly.

Voices interrupted, the trees from the direction of camp rustling. “I think they went this way.”

Claeri tensed up. “Those are the bullies who always annoy me.”

“We need to go now,” Alden urged. She did, holding him against her and running the other way. Not towards whatever Bertha had instructed, but towards their freedom.

Claeri dashed away from the river, the Sorrel camp, and already she felt free. Alden was fueling that wilder part of the imagination she needed to break free from this slumber of timidity.

However, opposition came early. Two giants pushed their way through the trees, wearing tattered shorts and loose brassieres.  ”There she is, her and her little boyfriend. Get back here, princess!”

“Keep going,” Alden said, quick to urge her on. Claeri’s fragile rebelliousness needed that shove. “We can do it. If they get close, I’ll turn on the bastards. Trust me, okay?”

Claeri hummed something short and incomprehensible, and ultimately, lacking confident. Fearful of losing him, her hands squished him deeper in between her small breasts, like an inexpensive medallion she couldn’t do without.

“Run all you want, princess,” one of them hounded, splashing through the river. “Can’t outrun us. We run and fight for a living, while all you’ve got to do is look pretty in camp.”

“Get back here and do your part, camp slut! Bertha can’t defend you here. Every second you keep running is one I’ll keep in mind when we get you.”

“Full speed on,” Alden said. Looking up, Claeri didn’t duck her head merely for the branches swiping at her face. The words hurled at her might as well have been rocks, pesky projectiles she had to shield her mind from. “They’re trash, they’re nothing.” Alden made sure to shout it back at their pursuers, a victorious roar to inspire Claeri. Whether its provocation fueled their opposition more than it inspired Claeri, Alden wasn’t sure, but after a full day of getting fucked and dominated by the giants of the Sorrel Clan, he was eager for a fight.

Claeri released one hand from Alden and used it to shove her way forward, the treetops a nuisance. As one might expect from her delicate character, Claeri didn’t handle it well. A surprisingly large bush on her sole would make her stop up for a moment, a projecting rock was something she noticed and cautioned not to step on. While having the size to push the trees aside, she avoided their chunky middle and tried to zip through the edge of the branches and would sometimes even sidle between. Recklessness was needed, not this caution. Alden’s hopes sunk; he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Somewhere in his head, the idea was born of him wrestling free from these fingers and jumping off, making his own way through the woods. His chances were far from poor. But then he’d leave Claeri to her own, and not only was her delicacy a flaw in these trials, but it succeeded in capturing his pity. He couldn’t leave her like this.

The trees cleared up, though that might not have been the benefit Alden expected. Their pursuers were simply faster than Claeri. One of them, with short yellow hair and a necklace of cheap beads, bit her teeth together with an upraised nose as she accelerated. She had the nasty look of someone ill-mannered, Alden could feel it. The other had longer red hair, tied poorly near the neck. Their shoddy shorts and loose breast-covering was the Sorrel Clan’s usual.

“I can’t,” Claeri gasped, slowing down.

“Got you now, maiden.” A foot kicked at Claeri’s ankles and a hand shoved the back of her head, throwing her down. Claeri twisted slightly, Alden hopping out of her hand and rolling through the grass, summoning his base magics. Claeri was pinned on the ground, a knee on her back. The other giant, the red-haired one, reached for Alden. He sprung forward under her hand and then bounced up, ramming his fist right into her belly. He rebounded from the force, the giant staggering back with a widened surprise over her face.

She stabilized and rubbed her stomach, panting from her recent sprint. “That hurt.” That was his one advantage, they’d gotten themselves tired while he had gotten carried. The other giant sat on Claeri’s back, folding her arms behind her. Claeri barely fought back. Seeing that gave Alden a mix of emotions. Helping her felt hopeless, but leaving such a defenseless person alone felt worse.

The red-haired giant threw her leg out, her dirty sole aiming for Alden. He dodged and kicked the ankle where it landed, making her flinch. The other leg came flying through, but Alden dove out of the way and cast a slice of magic. It struck her hip, finding a poorly sown-together portion where the shorts burst open, revealing her left cheek.

“Ah.” She rubbed her ass, investigating the parted flaps of the tear. “Good aim, you horny mage. You don’t mind coming in here?” She slapped her ass and winked. “Leave that princess and come with us, handsome. We’ll promise you the best part of your life, and it won’t cost you anything but time.”

“That’s an expensive currency,” Alden said. “Especially when spent on tramps like you.”

“Alden, watch out!”

Claeri’s warning was too late. The wind was knocked out of him as a hand snatched him from behind. The other giant had left his meek partner and snuck up on him.

The red-haired one laughed, slapping her ass again. “So easily distracted by this beauty. You pretend you’re better, but you can’t take your eyes off it. Get him here.”

“Leave us alone!” Claeri said while trying to get up, only to be kicked back down. The blonde returned Alden to his red-haired opponent before returning to Claeri. Alden’s arms were pinned in her closed fist. He was brought up before her grinning face. She had dark eyes, a scar over her cheek, and a small nose. Her panting breath washed over him, a hot smell of cheap wine.

“I like having to fight for it,” she said, a quieter tone reserved for their close distance. Her tongue stuck out in what was comparable to the lunge of a spear, striking his head with a spongy stab. She retracted and lunged again, prodding his head. On the third stab, she let it linger on his face, flicking up and down. He had to close his eyes from the amassing saliva. A fiery spite burned within him, one that didn’t arise against higher people like Big Bertha or Lady Hex. But these were nobodies. He couldn’t stand it. At his heart, he was still Alden Oakwell, the son of the Great Mage Gerard Oakwell. He had seen greater things in life than being a tossed-around toy in a Wessfarrow clan, now to be humiliated by garbage like this.

Alden bit at the large tongue.

She recoiled, snorting, the huff of air stroking his wet, air-sensitive face. “Oh yeah?” She slipped her closed fist down to reveal more of his upper torso, then opened her mouth. Right around his collar bone and upper shoulder blades was where her teeth clamped down, biting on and off. Alden grunted, imprisoned in fingers and teeth. She bit him a couple of times, lapped away at his face once, then remembered what gave her the idea of biting him and folded the tongue away from his mouth.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, human,” she whispered, bringing him out of her mouth. Raising him so his eyes were level with hers, her tongue shot up to pick at his manhood. He didn’t squirm, didn’t show any discomfort like she wanted. Having been milked as much as he’d been yesterday helped build up a sexual insensitivity.

“Hey, Kinnie, get him over here,” the blonde on top of Claeri said. “I’ve got an idea.”

The redhead spat on Alden’s face before handing him over, angry she couldn’t do more to him. The blonde, however, sat on Claeri’s back with both her arms folded there.

The blonde took Alden before Claeri’s pussy. “Let’s make them real tired of each other.” She poked Alden’s head and shoulders inside, shifting her fingers to hold onto his ankles, and before he could use his freed arms to summon magic, she shoved him right in. The difference in size from Bertha’s was enormous. While Bertha’s had comfortably eaten Alden up and could likely have fit another human in there, Claeri’s vaginal walls pressed down on him tightly. In a way, he felt it as a sign of her precious love for him, the way she held him against her chest felt like it was now being down by the muscles of her pussy. It didn’t want to let him go.

However, their bullies didn’t seek to end it so early. Alden entered only to exit, only to enter and exit again, the hold on his ankles making sure to pump him in and out of there as if he were the component of a wild machine trying to keep the whole factory going.

Claeri gasped, an airy slip of breath against the grass. Her middle tightened. The muscular walls had no time to keep Alden in place before the guiding hand took him away. However, they were quickly rewarded with another taste of him as he was sent back in, slammed into her cervix. The first squelching sound came as the liquids developed, spilling into Alden’s mouth and nose. Claeri was enjoying it, but the bully pumped harder and harder, intent on not stopping at merely one or two or three orgasms, but to make Claeri sick of it. The pumping became faster and faster, the giant’s arm and shoulder straining from all the effort. It was an act of violence.

Alden couldn’t make sense of time and space. Existence was a wet vortex, everything twisting, sounds contorting. Some part of him was aware enough to realize his experience wasn’t normal. It was as if he were fainting, but aware of the process.

Suddenly, he floated in space, the skies both above and below. Claeri hovered an arm’s length before him, human-size and snuggled up into a fetal position. Was he dreaming? Alden tried to speak, nothing leaving his mouth. He reaching his hand forward and grabbed her shoulder.

Something woke in him, the ability to summon magic. That felt strange. He’d always had it, yet it coursed in him with a new vigor. Alden tried to feel the location of this ever-flowing tide of energy, pin it down. He surrounded it with his attention and focused. It was reminiscent of his first time summoning magic.

Claeri screamed in a burst of white energy, throwing her hands up behind her. The blonde giant which sat on her was launched skywards, far above the treetops, as insignificant as if she were human.

“What the hell?” The other giant tripped back. The instinct was to get onto Claeri and push her back down as they were used to doing, but this new, unfathomable information of her friend being sent airborne was visibly stunning her. She almost came forward to kick Claeri, then backed off. Claeri shone in a white light, the energy pulsating from her pussy, from Alden.

The launched blonde fell back down, landing with a crash that made the leaves on the trees flutter. Her elbow and shoulder snapped, wrenching out a guttural scream. Claeri got up and snapped at the red-haired one who tried to get away, fingers locked around her ponytail.

Claeri ripped half her hair clean off, the tug so powerful that the giant was practically sent into half a backflip. The blonde ran away with her broken arm, the red-hair tried to get on her feet, moving so tenderly it was as if a cup of water had been placed on her head and not one drop was allowed to spill. One sudden movement made a cry of pain come out, freezing her, and in such a stilted manner did she too escape from there, trailing after her friend.

Claeri only watched. Awe, terror, she observed her own hands and noted the vitality coursing through her very being. “What’s happening? Alden, did you see that?” She reached down and grabbed his legs, extracting him from her pussy.

The energy faded, the white glow subsiding. It all vanished, returned to the helpless, frail girl who had been chased all the way out here.

“You threw them…” Alden moaned, the cum drooping off his body. “I saw it.”

”How did you see it?”

“I saw what you did. One of them, they were thrown into the air, then plummeted right back down. The other, you tore her damn hair off. My god, Claeri.”

“I… We had to, right? But, I don’t know how.” Claeri waved her free arm, kicked her leg at the air, searching for something on herself. “It’s gone. What was that?”

“I felt something before, when we were at the pool,” Alden said. “I thought I had your perspective, for just a moment. And, back in the tent, when I was in Bertha, I saw one of her memories.”

“How? Are you a seer?”

“No, I’m a mage.”

“But what was that?”

“I…” It was the words Alden had always wanted to hear. “I think it’s my art.”