Calludral stared at the artefact. Every time he blinked to refresh his dried eyes, he saw the tetrahedron, or at least its very outline was burned into his very retinas. It sat suspended in its chronomatic chamber, floating up and down as though it was bobbing to the slow lapping of ocean waves. The shape shimmered as its sharpest edgest twinkled. Peering close, the faint illumination from the candelabra beside made its surface appear like a hall of mirrors bouncing light off one another. Then, it turned. Calludral scribbled furiously, his quill darting across the parchment. Movement, his inner voice squealed in excitement, movement at long last. The artefact stopped and resumed its continuous bobbing. He rubbed his eyes, failing to nurse the stinging sensation behind them.

He bounced up and down in his seat. A rhythmic pulse that unsettled his workspace. The earth-splitting tread of heels clacking on the stone floor. Calludral wanted to turn, but instead, he kept his focus. That is what she would want. Focus, no matter what. The artefact might change, it could shift or turn, reveal its contents and allow him to glean upon some untold mysteries. He could not miss such an opportunity. A shadow crept up on him, the footfall growing more disruptive. He turned his head for a moment to see Vylia looming over.

“Deciphered its mysteries yet?” she asked. Her size magnified the power of her voice, giving it a deep bass-like quality. 

“It turned just now,” Calludral flicked through his notes, double-checking to see if this wondrous discovery was not previously recorded. 

Upon his desk were stacks of parchments. Black ink seeped and set into the oak. Wax dripped from a dozen half-melted candles. Most precious of all was the gold disk, which shot a beam of ethereal blue energy to form the chronomatic chamber, keeping it trapped within its grasp. 

“Curious,” she lent forward, “most curious indeed.”

Calludral felt the seismic shift, the hefty movement of enormous weights. With one pair of eyes fixated on the artefact, he felt secure knowing he could now look behind. When he did, Calludral gawped. Two great prodigious dark chocolate mounds poured from a cherry red dress. Vylia’s chest, over-endowed to the extreme, looked as though they were about to pour out from their velvet prison. He shook his head, turned back to the tetrahedron, shifting his seat and pulling at his robes to disguise arousal, lest his tutor notice once again.

“And there have there more alterations?” She planted her hand by the side of Calludral’s desk. It landed with a resounding thud that unsettled his piled high stacks of notes. Mundane movements were enough to cause uproar for his work. Some of the papers settled close by one of her digits. When he walked up to retrieve them, he compared himself once more to check. Her mere fingertip equalled him in height. Calludral huffed.

Of all the teachers in the world, he found the one with a penchant for size magics. At this height, shrunken down to only to almost an inch or so in height, Calludral perceived the natural world as that an insect would. He sat on her work surface, this vast landscape of polished mahogany that stretched far. Beyond the vastness were monolithic bookcases that stretched up high into the heavens above, filled with tomes that rivalled any human house. Even the candles she kept hovering in the air were as thick and mighty as the proudest most ancient of trees in any forest. Yet, this was just one of her many studies, and those may as well have been as far away as the moon. To trek beyond this room would be an odyssey in itself.

“Well Master,” he coughed into his hand and picked up his notes, “several glyphs appeared earlier, which I jotted down and recorded. Whenever there is movement, an arcane symbol appears on one of its sides.”

She loomed in closer. Her chest was near enough that he could reach out and touch it. Subtle floral scents became a thick musk, forcing Calludral to breathe deep of the enticing aroma. 

“Have you deducted any rhyme or reasoning to these patterns?” 

“Time is a factor,” he scratched his head, "it seems incoherent, even with the chronomatic chamber altering the flow.”

“Hmm… unfortunate.” Her hand left his side. She straightened herself.

“But,” he dug out some notes and traced his finger along his writings, “the brightest points within the symbols when connected match the alignment of constellations. With your grace, I could compare my notes to the star charts and see if unlocking this artefact is somehow related."

Calludral turned his chair around to face his elven tutor. Vylia was draped in a long flowing red dress that appeared ill-fitted. Around her chest, down to her hips and thighs, her clothing clad tight, outlining her outrageous curves. She hummed to herself, trying in vain to suppress an astonished smile. She drummed her fingers on her sharp pointed chin. 

“Astromancy is an acquired skill human and far beyond your meagre abilities. Yet, I am pleased with your progress. Thus it appears it is time for your next test,” she mused.

“T-Test?” Calludral stammered. Ice crept down his spine.

“You have done well to study for so long and record so much, but now I must examine your resolve.”

“But M-Master,” he protested, “I have not slept nor-”

“Precisely,” a coy grin formed as her thunderous voice cut him off, “you must prove your endurance to me. Do you baulk at the possibility of deepening your craft human?”

Calludral glanced behind. The shape floated, taunting him with its movements, captivating him like a moth being drawn to the light. It implored him to keep delving, it begged for him to unravel its mysteries. He tensed up. “No. I am ready Master.”

The shackles of gravity slipped away and weightlessness took over. He rose from his chair, stunned, until he shot through the air, his surroundings blurring and meddling as he spun wildly, flailing and howling. His vision returned several images of Vylia’s crimson-red eye dominating his vision. A riot raged in his gut, making him want to be ill. Calludral went to cover his mouth, but could not move his arm. Instead, he was sprayed out like a pinned animal awaiting dissection. 

Vylia’s hand glimmered. Lightning coiled around her index finger. She drew symbols in the air. Calludral's heart plunged.

“Master!” He called out, trying to hide his fear, “t-that incantation! I cannot-”

“Then you will fail my test.” Vylia continued to map interlinking elven letters together.

“But, you can’t!” he stuttered, “it was not designed for-”

“For you kind? No. Of course not. Those of limited intelligence and expertise could never survive seeing but a fraction of the infinite. Even skilled practitioners of your race can be thrown into insanity by the countless futures they witness.”

“Then wh-”

Her finger stopped tracing. Lightning danced and zipped. It was darting incoherently until it went straight up and then arced straight into Calludral’s forehead. He thought there would be pain, he had opened his mouth to scream. Instead, he saw Vylia, her rose red lips right before him. A gargantuan tongue came out to lick them. He trembled in fright. Against his will, Calludral could feel his manhood twitch in excitement. He strained against his invisible shackles, desperate to hide his shame. Vylia's titter rattled his skull. 

“My, my student,” each annunciation was enough to make it feel like his body was going to burst, “I did not realise my spell would have such a carnal effect.”

Calludral’s clothes disintegrated away, scattering into nothing. His nude body was laid bare, his erection on display. Vylia held a hand to her face to hide her merriment. Calludral's face burned red. He wanted to speak out, to say something in his defence, but all his words began to jumble in his mind. Calludral recalled speaking, then in the same instance, he did not. He then thought he had given an eloquent speech, professed his love for his tutor, cursed her for shrinking him or raged at the stupidity of her tests. He heard himself each time and each way he dealt with this moment with Vylia. Each response rose slowly then rang in his ears, all his voices forming an ear-splitting dirge.

Vylia inched herself closer, her lips parting, allowing her breath to smash against him like a storm wind. Her tongue snaked out and slathered him, his sight engulfed by a tide of red. Saliva dripped from him as she sampled her student. When she paused, Calludral’s eye already rolled into the back of his head. His body spasmed, his member erect and hard. Vylia’s traced her finger through the air one more. Small hexes covered her tiny student. She came back, ravenous for more.

Though it was no thicker than her fingernail, Vylia’s lip could find purchase on his manhood. It was hard to even see Calludral this close. One errant move, a simple inhale could shatter her grasp on him and send him into her mouth and down her throat in an instant. Yet, she sucked away as best she could, wondering how her student felt at having such rich smooth lips plying at his dick. Every so often, she would take her tongue and use its tip to rub against his shaft. She wondered what her other selves were doing to him, what tricks they were playing. Vylia considered a choice, allowing another aspect of herself to follow through with that notion on her tiny student. For now, she was content with sucking away.

Calludral was lost. Lost in a sea of possibilities, every beating pulse of his heart caused a ripple. Every bit of destiny that could be was all playing out simultaneously. Across the infinitude, every instance started here with Vylia toying with him. Countless visions of a dark-chocolate-skinned elf playing with his member, her lips enveloping his dick and sucking until he felt all the life and energy drain. From all the experiences that crossed time and space, he could feel the warmth of her lips, each glorious sensation combining with the last. 

Tongues drenched him, kisses enveloped him, soft fingertips caressing his dick. Then events forked. In one, he found himself trapped in her cleavage, using her prodigious breasts to trap him. From there, she cupped her chest and squashed him, or massaged his tiny body. Then in another, she was rubbing him against her nipple. On and on, he beheld the spawning of futures where Vylia satisfied herself with him. It was too much for one mind to bear. They were happening and yet they were not. He could feel incalculable pleasures that spawned from the moment Vylia wanted to test with him. He saw it all, felt it all as Calludral’s rapture pierced the barriers between futures.

No release came. It was stuck, holding at the tip. He grunted, he groaned, his body howled out for sweet release. Every nerve ending felt aflame. Yet it sat there, building, growing, developing out the more she had her way with him. In some possibilities, he saw Vylia taunting him for not being able to come, others she was doting and caring. So many versions and visions of his tutor playing out, then going instantly back to messing and toying with his manhood. Above it all, cutting through the madness was the desire to come. Soon, that was all there was. His senses failed and his mind melted from the sensations that pierced dimensions. He lost himself across the infinite.

Vylia smiled. With a final lick, she then opened her mouth. Then both spells ended. Across all his futures, they collapsed down one by one. A tether came. Calludral sensed a balance returning to his consciousness. He was freed from witnessing all his possible fates that spun out from this moment with his tutor. As he beheld only the present, one painful urge remained. Calludral strained against his invisible shackles, crying aloud with a roar of ecstasy. He finally came. His cum shot into the gaping maw of Vlyia who lapped it up with delight, savouring each petty shot that landed on the great expanse of her tongue. Just when she thought he would stop, more came gushing out, until at last, her student went limp.

Eldritch tattoos lit on Vylia’s body. She felt a rush of strength, laughing in delight. Such delicious mana, she thought, such rejuvenation! 

Her hands trembled, unable to contain the surge of power flowing through her. Vylia closed her eyes and threw her arms to her side and allowed it to happen. The elf’s body shot up to the roof, gaining twenty feet’s worth of height in an instant. She massaged her breast, twiddled with an erect nipple, unleashing a reverberating moan that shook the foundations of her illustrious tower. All she had to was raise her hand and utilise this surge. A mere flick and she could scour continents clean of life, split tectonic plates with a thought, clench her fist and shatter the moons above. Then, a serene calmness took over, draining her of the intoxication. She contained the rush. Infused, Vylia felt stronger than ever before.

Haggard and worn from exhaustion, Calludral hung in the air, cum dripping from his half-erect member. He blinked a few times, unable to make sense of the sea of red before him. Another blink let him come face to face with a gargantuan crimson eye engulfing his view. Her frantic pants blasted him. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her luxurious mane was frazzled and wild.

“You’ve done well student,” Vylia licked her lips.

“T-thank,” Calludral’s husky voice meeked out, “thank you, Master.” 

“I shall give you time to recuperate from this. Rest now, for come first light, new trials shall await you.”

Calludral barely summoned the strength to nod. When he did, a flash of light came. He found himself back in the middle of his room, now cleaned and wearing his typical grey robes. Gravity returned and he collapsed onto the hard wooden floor with a thud. Through blurred vision, he saw his room. On one side was a bed, two desks at the other. Both workplaces were swamped with tomes and scrolls. There was little room between, barely five steps from the end of the bed. 

Blue energy swirled before him. Food and drink materialised. Steam wisped from a plate lined with an assortment of freshly cooked meats. A whole spit-roasted bird, browned crispy bits of bacon, and seared cuts of steak. Alongside the feast was a tankard of mead. The very smell gifted him renewed vigour. He clawed his way towards it, forced himself to stand. He cleared a spot on his desk as best he could and devoured the feast.

Vylia spied on her student with an invisible eye within the room, watching him scoff down mouthfuls and take such swigs the mead trickled down his chin. She giggled to herself and ended the vision, allowing him a modicum of peace. The elf wandered down a row her in her study, passing by an archives worth of tomes stacked high on shelves that raced up to the illusion of the night-sky cast on the ceiling. A small oval door was cast into one of the shelves, so minute that even the smallest runt of a rat would not be able to fit through it. That little mousehole led to her student’s room, a quaint microscopic abode. A befitting accommodation for a human, lest he forgets his place next to an elven master.

Then, turning her attentions instead to the ruins of the study, Vylia huffed. Her growth caused quite a mess. The table on which Calludral sat was upturned, her growth throwing it on its side. With a thought, the desk levitated and then returned to its proper position, along with the study spot she had miniaturized. All those specks of papers, as well as the artefact, all rest where they should. Vylia closed her hands. When they reopened, the tetrahedron appeared in the left, and all Calludral’s notes in her right, which were now back to normal size. She read through his notes and smiled in joy. 

Calludral’s notes were detailed and precise, even when his mental fortitude was waining. He categorised each of the symbols that flashed on The Aeonic Cypher, jotted thoughts about their importance. A string of lucid analysis that was ever thinking about the significance. No matter how minute or how improbable, he catalogued and recorded it. Vylia could not help but sustain her grin, as much as she wanted to scrutinize his work. Calludral was on the cusp of discovery when he wanted to compare his work to complied star charts. She whisked away the notes and the artefact back onto the desk, happy with his progress. Her pupil not only could perform rigorous examinations of magical properties but could then go on to endure a spell that even the sagest human wizard would be humbled by. 

She sat down at the desk and sighed. The taste of his semen came back, reminiscing on all those tests where the bliss of his mana shot into her mouth. Even those little spurts were enough. So much energy, so much power. Calludral’s cum was becoming more invigorating. He had only grown stronger the more he studied. With further honing of his talent, Vylia dreamt of the day she would surpass even the Autarch in might thanks to Calludral. The elf quivered in lustful excitement. She wiggled in her chair, unable to sit still. An idle hand slipped down to her underwear, her other was circling around her nipple. She bit her lip just thinking of her pupil.

What fortune to be witness to such a prodigy, she thought.

Then, she froze. Vylia expelled the notion. Affection for a human, she thought, how could I even dare to love one? 

Vylia drummed in the thought that Calludral was only her student, nothing more. She could feed on his mana to enhance herself, that was it. That was the only reason she accepted to be his tutor. Vylia saw his natural ability, how gifted he was before the other elves could steal him away. To love one so short-lived would only bring the onset of madness. For she was thousands of years old and to her, Calludral’s life could be spent with a blink of her eye. In just a flicker, an idle lapse on the present, and her student would be one with the earth. She would endure, as all the elves did. 

Yet, no matter how much she buried any feelings for him, she could not help but find the welling of emotion for her sole student overwhelming her millennia-long disdain for humanity. None had gotten this far. None across the epochs could ever endure the tutelage Vylia, the sizemancer.  

I have to break him, she thought, desperately concocting another humiliating test for him. She looked down at her heels. A devilish grin leered.