How did it come to this? Martin asked himself numbly, grunting under the weight of the heavy iron chains that bound him. Glowing blue runes ran up and down them, keeping him from summoning even a spark of magic as the burly man at the front of the column cracked a whip.

“Keep moving you lazy slugs!” he bellowed.

There were cries of fear from the men, women, and children in line behind him, and the bandits laughed and jeered in response. Their captors trotted their horses alongside the column, some on foot and brandishing cruel looking swords, axes, and a handful of older looking flintlock guns. The sun was hot, bearing down on them and making the journey all the more miserable.

“So what do you think Cam?” one of the bandits asked, coming up alongside the leader, “Do we bring this group north to the sea? Or are we going south to the lizards?”

Cam was an ugly man with an uglier smile, and the grin he gave the few dozen prisoners sent a chill up Martin’s spine, “I don’t mind giving the peasants to the lizards, the mage though… I feel like we’ve got to really search for a buyer for him.”

I’m not much of a mage, Martin thought sullenly. After flunking out of the Imperial Academy he’d wandered to the far eastern border, looking for work and to forget his troubles. When the bandits had fallen upon the small border town he’d been staying in, he’d been too startled to manage much of a fireball, letting himself be captured and chained easily.

This is the end, he thought with a sigh. You were fine at studying theory and reading up on all the perfect spells… but when it came time to use them, you chickened out. He looked up at the blazing sun, cursing his own cowardice.

…

Dura lay flat across the grassy rise, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she observed the slave convoy. The green skinned woman’s axe lay heavy across her back as she slowly crawled through the brush, trying to get a better view.

Hmm… she thought, yeah, those look like humies. The orc had only seen a few humans in her life, almost none of them journeyed far into orc controlled territories on the high plains. No, her experience with the shorter, frailer race was mostly from stories she’d heard, plenty of orcs ventured out into human lands and came back with tales of their adventures. Whole massive cities full of sexy humies, all of whom want to submit to an orc master or mistress, she chuckled. Was it true? Probably not, if humies really were eager to be servants to the greenskins, surely they’d have come to the orcs rather than the other way around. Still, a woman had to investigate such things for herself, there’s a truth behind every wild legend and rumor, she thought with a smile.

She frowned as she studied the group. The chains in particular piqued her interest, and as the column got closer, she could hear the wailing and the crying of the captured prisoners.

Don’t like this, she thought, feeling anger rising in the pit of her stomach, don’t like this one bit…

Dura began counting the men with weapons, swearing under her breath when she realized she was outnumbered ten to one.

They’ll be up this way soon, might as well hit them with the element of surprise! She grinned and reached for her axe, feeling the blue sparks of magic dance along her fingers as she readied her charge.

…

Martin jumped, causing the chains to clatter and clang as a ferocious battle cry rang out over the plains. A fireball rocketed out, catching the bandit leader with the whip in the chest, sending him flying from the saddle with a grunt of pain. He threw himself to the ground, shaking in terror as his other captors unfurled their weapons, charging towards… Her.

He gulped as he took in the towering green skinned woman. She was easily a head taller than any of the bandits, and while she had a pleasing and curvaceous feminine form, her toned muscles were visible as she lifted an axe over her head with a roar. She had a small scar across her cheek, occasionally obscured by the long dark green almost black hair that grew wildly over her shoulders.

The bandits parted before her like water as she cut them down, knocking them from their saddles with impossibly well placed strikes, or holding her hand out and letting blue lightning arc across the grass. Gunshots rang out as the bandits fired their flintlock arsenal at her, but with a chant and a raised hand the orc stopped the bullets in midair, letting them fall.

“Lookout!” Martin called fearfully as he saw another bandit level a gun barrel behind her.

The crack of the shot rang out, causing his heart to fall, but the orc woman just stumbled, grinning through the pain as she circled around to the assailant.

“You better reload that boomstick real quick humie!” she bellowed, chasing after him. The man screamed in fear, throwing his gun down and sprinting as fast as he could across the prairie. The rest of the bandits took his lead, fleeing in panic in all directions rather than continue to face the green woman. “Go on, cowards!” she bellowed, beating her axe across her chest, “run!”

The captured townsfolk cheered, and the orc woman grinned, bending over to pick up a string of keys one of the bandits had dropped. One by one she went down the line, undoing their shackles, finally ending at Martin’s own.

“A mage huh?” she said, opening his shackles and glancing at the glowing blue runes. “That lot didn’t seem so tough; did they take you asleep?”

“Uh, n-no Miss Orc,” he stammered. Up close she was even more impressive, and the slightly earthy scent of her sweat filled his nostrils and caused him to lean in involuntarily.

“Overwhelm you? All come at you at once?” she questioned, frowning.

“T-They just sort of, startled me, too much to cast spells I mean,” he admitted, his face red.

He’s got a case of the yips, Dura thought with a growl, poor little humie… He was a cute one, only coming up to her chest, with a mop of the straw colored hair that marked him as a northerner. She raised an eyebrow as she realized just how flustered he was, how his eyes were roaming her body in a way that a man’s eyes did. I suppose humies do like greenskins after all…

The rest of the captured prisoners were beginning the long walk back to their village, thankfully no more than a few hours journey. They called farewells and thanks, a few fished in their pockets and left coins, mostly small coppers, in a pile for Dura, who grinned broadly and thanked each of them for the trinkets in turn. Soon they were all dots in the distance, save for Martin, who hung behind uncertainly, unsure if he wanted to return with them after his failure to help defend their village.

“Well uh… thanks again,” Martin said sheepishly, turning to go, but Dura put a hand on his shoulder, halting him.

“I think humie,” she began with a grin, “that maybe you should come with me.”

Martin gulped, “I-I don’t know about-“

“Cast a fireball,” she ordered, “go on, do it!”

He sighed, feeling his heart pick up as he shakily raised a hand. He grimaced, it was an easy spell, one he knew he could do under most conditions, but under the stern gaze of the orc he just… couldn’t. A pair of sparks and a small puff of black smoke danced along his fingers, and he sighed.

“Hey, cheer up, I’m just the thing you need!” she beamed, slapping him across the back hard enough that he stumbled forward slightly. “I’m my clan’s best battlemage, and I’ve been hoping to pick up a cute humie for adventures, wild sex, and treasure!”

“Well I could use some tutelage,” Martin nodded, then frowned. “Wait, what was that second part?”

“And don’t worry,” Dura continued, ignoring his question as she scooped up the small pile of coppers, “I’m not greedy, I’ll share with you fifty-fifty!” With a slap that stung she slammed a few of the pennies into his palm, grinning, “So what do you say?”

She did take on a small army of bandits by herself, Martin gulped, and it’s not like I have a lot of friends, family, or work waiting for me anywhere else…

He knelt, “I accept your offer, I humbly pledge my service in-“

“Whoa whoa whoa humie,” Dura laughed, “That’s one of your people’s ways of showing fealty, I think we should start off with one of mine!” She pointed down at her sandaled green feet, grinning widely, “Plant a kiss there and then start with the talk about how you’re going to serve me!”

Martin grimaced, the dirty pair of leather-thonged sandals had clearly been worn in a long trek across the vast prairie, and as he lowered his face down to her toes the earthy musk of dirt and sweat mixed together hit his nose. Like before he felt his heart pick up, and he realized that his manhood was stiffening, eager to be free of the situation he quickly planted a peck on Dura’s toes, the salty taste of the grime on them clinging to his lips a moment as he looked up at her for approval.

“Now what kind of kiss was that?” she smirked, crossing her arms, “Go back for another! And use your tongue, like you would with a lover!”

He blinked, “You’ve got to be kidd-“

He grunted as she pushed his head back down to her feet, and as the pheromone laden sweat hit his nose he found himself inhaling deeply, feeling his blood run hot. The orc chuckled smugly, then giggled at the sensation as his tongue ran over her feet, cleaning her toes and tasting the sour salty sweat that clung to her green skin.

“Much better,” she said, pushing him away a moment. He watched as she sat down on the grass, sighing contentedly as she peeled off her worn pair of sandals, wiggling her green toes playfully at him as she stretched her legs out before him. “Come give them a rub while we talk!”

Martin nodded, moving forward and taking the large green foot into his lap. His fingers ran over her sole, eliciting a groan of pleasure as the orc leaned back, arms behind her head as she enjoyed his work. Her feet were well soiled from her journey, and the grime stuck to his thumbs as they traced along her arches. Some distant part of him knew it had to be the infamous orcish pheromones working on his mind, but he wanted nothing more than to press his face against them, worshiping them…

“What do we have here?” Dura teased, letting her other foot drift a little further into his lap. He gasped as the tip of her toe playfully traced along his erection, poking almost painfully up through his pants. “I guess it’s true what they say, humies just can’t get enough green, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Martin stammered, “I-It must be the pheromones-“

“Yeah, orc musk makes you humans into dumb horny bastards,” she chuckled, “but it only makes you want things you would have already wanted, so don’t go telling your humie friends I brainwashed you or nothin’.”

He frowned, “Y-You’re saying I-“

“You were always going to be a foot boy, yeah,” Dura laughed, “Now let’s talk about your problems!” He gasped as her toes gripped his erection, toying with it again and sending a wave of pleasure through his spine. “You have plenty of magical talent, I can feel it on you... you seem like you know your magic, so what’s stopping you from making lightning bolts fly when you’re in trouble?”

“I-I just oh gods, ” he breathed in as the green foot slowly circled his member, rubbing the fabric of his trousers against it, “I-I just-“

“Freeze up, stutter, yeah,” she nodded, “I used to have that problem actually.”

“Y-You did-“ he couldn’t finish the question, doubling over as the orc woman’s foot casually brought him to orgasm. Without thinking he brought the foot he’d been rubbing up to his face, inhaling deeply and letting the wave of pleasure wash over him. Slowly he came down, his senses returning as he looked at the green skinned appendage in his hand, then slowly down to its owner, who was giving him a smug grin. “I’m sorry,” he started, but she just laughed.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t spend so much time second guessing! When you’re doing what you’ve got to do, just act! You wanted my feet in your face,” she twirled her foot playfully, “so you put one there!”

“I… guess,” Martin said.

“Why don’t we try it for magic,” Dura said, “whenever you feel yourself starting to freeze up, just remember your face right here!” she grinned and pointed to her green sole.

“You want me to think of your feet when I’m trying to cast spells?” Martin asked skeptically.

Dura shrugged, “You need something that just makes you power through those feelings, now for me it was turkey legs!”

“Turkey legs?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dura rolled her eyes, “just something that makes you happy, something to reward yourself with!” She stood up, looming over him and blocking the noonday sun. Slowly she raised her bare foot up, pushing it on his chest and driving him to the ground. Martin grunted as she pressed her weight down on his chest, pinning him in place and giving him a wonderful view of her foot, which was quickly causing him to become aroused again.

“Let’s try that fireball again,” Dura said, inching her foot up his body.

Martin sighed, holding out his hand. He focused, mentally reciting the incantation, trying to fight the urge to look up at Dura.

It’s hopeless, I can’t do this while she’s watching-

His thought was cut off by a sweaty green sole pressing down on his face. The orc woman playfully dragged her foot over his nose, his mouth, letting the grime soak into his hair. A moment later the smell of smoke joined the earthy musk of orcish sweat, and Martin’s eyes shot open, looking in awe at a small patch of burning grass just a few feet from his hand.

“Good job!” Dura said, stepping off of him. She waved her hand, wordlessly extinguishing the flames with her own spell.

“I-I did it?” he stammered.

“Now if you could do that without kissing my feet, you’d be a halfway decent mage,” Dura grinned. “I’ve got to say, I kind of like this, my very own pet humie, one who’s so in love with my feet that he can’t even cast a spell unless he’s thinking about them!”

Martin leaned up, still stunned as he looked at the patch of blackened grass, “I can’t believe it,” he looked up at the smug orc, “I-I’ll do whatever you say! I’ll be your apprentice, your slave!”

“Oh I’m definitely going to need you to say that in front of my sisters back home,” Dura laughed. “Now that we’ve agreed you’re my personal humie, what do you say we have some more fun?”

Martin nodded, licking his lips eagerly, “W-What do you want me to do?”

Dura clapped her hands together, muttering a series of spells Martin didn’t recognize. There was a flash, and the world spun. He stumbled backward a moment, suddenly in a strange landscape of towering amber pillars… no, strands, strands of grass.

If that’s the grass, then I’m… The world shook as a pair of bare green feet the size of wagons stomped down into the dirt on either side of him. His gaze slowly traced up as he took in the hundred foot tall form of the orc woman, the magic still dancing along her faraway fingers from the spell. No, she’s not big, he gulped, I’m small!?

“I’ve heard a lot of people back home love wrestling humies,” She chuckled in a low voice, “Win or lose, you’re usually pretty worked up by the end of it.”

“I-I think you’d have a slight advantage now!” Martin shouted.

Dura shrugged, “I was thinking you’d just wrestle one part of me, your favorite part?” Her massive foot came towards him, her big toe curling downward and then flicking him slightly, causing him to tumble over with a grunt. “Oh,” she said with a grin, “since my foot’s naked, it’s only fair that you’re naked too, so strip!”

Martin gulped, pulling his pants down and quickly tossing his shirt away. He felt the wind on his naked body, shivering slightly as he looked up at the curling toes that Dura expected him to grapple with. He tried to stand up straight, readying himself as if he were preparing to wrestle any other opponent.

The wall of green swept into him, a mere tap of Dura’s foot, but a powerful body slam to him. He grunted, gripping her toes and trying to dig into the dry dirt as she playfully gripped his waist between her toes, squeezing him like a wrestler’s iron grip as she dragged him through the loose earth.

“You’re going to have to do better than that humie,” she laughed. She stopped a moment, leaning her head back. “Pfft” Martin’s eyes went wide as the glob of spit rocketed down to him, and he cried out in surprise when it burst on his face, soaking him and making the dirt and grime of her feet stick to him even more.

Martin tried to wipe the slimy spit out of his face while the toes rolled over him, occasionally pinning him again, only to lift, giving him a few precious seconds to scrabble across the soil before coming down again.

“Hmm… something’s poking my sole,” Dura grinned. Martin grunted as she pinned him on his back again, letting her toes slide down. He managed to get his eyes open again just as another warm glob of spit crashed into him, this time landing on his crotch and soaking his nether regions as her toes pressed closed around his revived manhood.

“Oh gods,” Martin groaned as the massive green digits gripped his shaft, slowly working up and down. Her ample spit provided more than enough lubricant, and soon he was panting, unable to think clearly as each slow up and down stroke over his body sent electric jolts of pleasure up his spine.

“Now whenever you’re having trouble with your spells, remember your happy place,” Dura said, “ Right here, underneath my feet.”

Martin’s back arched, and he gritted his teeth with a sigh of pleasure as Dura’s foot brought him over the edge a second time, the delicate motion of her toes never once slowing as she milked the tiny man of all he had in him.

Shadows flickered over his blurry vision as his climax ended, and as his eyes cleared he could see the gigantic orc woman squatting down over him, her green face grinning broadly at his stunned and defeated condition.

“We’d best get going,” she said, “stick with me, and we’ll have your spells flying in no time…”

Her hand came down, and for a moment Martin thought that maybe she’d unshrink him, but instead her fingers curled under his back, lifting him off the ground slightly and laying him across Dura’s sandals.

“Dura,” he started, “what are you-“

“Shh…” she whispered, taking a few strands of leather cord from her belt. Martin squirmed feebly as she slowly wrapped the cord around the sandal, looping it in with the thong and the back straps in a way that forced his arm’s and legs together, and then held him tight against the sandal’s insole. Next the orc slid her cottage sized foot into the sandal, riding it up to the thong. She pressed down, causing the tiny human to grunt as her surprisingly soft foot sandwiched him against the worn leather. She reached down to pull on the straps, causing Martin to wheeze as the pressure increased with each tightening of the footwear. “You’ve had a rough day, you just relax there.”

Her toes came down gently on either side of his head as she took her first step, causing Martin to gasp as what felt like the world’s most powerful and all consuming hug pressed  across his body. Tight against her sole, he had nowhere to go, bound tightly in leather cord that was thin enough to be used as shoelace but at his size was as thick and powerful as the chains which had bound him earlier in the day.

The orc woman’s feet began to seep more oily sweat as she went, quickly coating Martin in the mixture and instantly bringing him back to the peak of arousal again.

The orcish pheromones, he realized, if they’re really this powerful then- He groaned as her sole slid against his manhood with each rise and fall of the giant foot, pressing his back into the leathern sandal insole in a way that made it feel as though someone were clapping him hard across the back. Martin began to wonder how long he would last, how many steps will it be before she brings me off again? How long until I get hard again after that? A hundred steps? Fifty?

Dura stopped, scooping up his tiny clothes and slipping them into her pocket, grinning as she started on the journey towards the human border. Each step was a thrilling reminder of the human she’d taken into her service, one who she couldn’t wait to explore and train in both magical arts, and carnal ones.

…

Weeks had passed since Martin had found himself the apprentice, servant, and lover of Dura, the orc battlemage. Her teachings had been… unusual, each night as they made camp he’d been forced to recite spells while he rubbed her feet, a complete incantation being rewarded with time at small size beneath them, a place he’d increasingly found himself longing for.

Martin climbed behind Dura, grunting with exertion from the heavy axe on his back, “I-Is this weapon really necessary?” he asked over the rising wind of the peak.

Dura sighed, tapping her own massive axe, “Look humie, not everything can be killed with a spell, you want other options!”

“But it’s so heavy!”

“That’s the idea,” she laughed.

“What’s supposed to be up in this cave anyways?” Martin gasped, panting as he hefted himself up to the rocky ledge. The black chasm in the side of the hill was like an open mouth, one that filled him with trepidation as he peered into it.

“Dunno,” Dura admitted, unfurling her own axe, “but those farmers said they’ll give us a bag of coin and all the beef we can eat if we get rid of whatever’s taking their livestock.”

“What if it’s a vampire?” Martin asked, readying his axe as the pair entered the dark cavern.

“You hit it with a brick,” Dura said with a shrug.

Martin balked, “a brick ?”

“Well I don’t carry holy water or sigils or any of that on me,” Dura explained, “so if you can’t kill a vampire, you’ve got to make him wish he could die, hit him with a brick enough times and he’ll piss off.” She thought a moment, “honestly, just beating the tar out of it with a brick makes almost anything piss off, even if a brick can’t necessarily kill it.”

“I… suppose I wouldn’t know,” Martin replied.

“Eh, maybe you’ll find out today?” She turned towards the deeper parts of the cave, “Whoever’s in here, get your ass on out before I start throwing fireballs!” Dura bellowed.

The pair were greeted by a screech like iron nails across a glass plane. Martin found himself involuntarily stepping backwards as a massive tentacled thing came into view, writhing gelatinous limbs stretched out from a crablike hard shelled body held up by countless spindly chitinous legs.

“B-Blast it with a fireball!” Martin screamed.

“Now wait a minute, don’t judge a book by it’s cover,” Dura laughed, readying her axe regardless of her words, “He might be nice! Hey, crab-thing, are you-“ She was cut off by another blood curdling scream as it scuttled forward, tiny clacking mouths opening along the tentacles. “Nevermind, he’s a cunt,” Dura shouted, swiping at the first of the tentacles that came within reach.

Martin held out his hand, grinning as a bolt of lightning filled the air with an ozone smell as the monster staggered under the impact.

“There we go!” Dura shouted with a grin, “heads up, you’ve got his attention!”

He yelped in surprise as one of the tentacles whipped across his forearm, drawing a thin line of blood before he could lift the axe. In a clumsy stroke he hacked into it, causing it to scuttle away with a *clickclack* sound that almost hurt to hear.

“Hit him with an airburst!” Dura shouted, “quick, before he gets away!”

Martin lifted his hands, letting the magic flow through his fingertips as he created the vauum, I’ve got to hurry, I’ve got to- He tensed, realizing he was freezing up again, No! he begged himself, his heart racing, Not not, not-

Dura was suddenly at his size, one of her sandals in hand. With a smirk she pressed it against his face, bringing the top just under his eyes as she pressed the sweat soaked leathery insole hard against his nose.

Okay, he thought suddenly, weaving the rest of the spell together.

There was a *boom* and a second later a rain of purple goo splattered the cavern walls. Martin couldn’t help but watch, stunned, as what was left of the thing tumbled over, the crablike legs twitching a few final times before it went still.

I did that, he thought numbly, I actually managed an airburst spell…

“Good work,” Dura said, slapping him hard on the ass, stopping for a long grope that brought him out of his thoughts. “Next time though, try to do it without sniffing a girl’s footwear, yeah?”

“I-I’m getting better about it,” Martin stammered.

“Yeah I know,” Dura said with a grin, “and you even managed to use the axe! I’ll make a battlemage out of you yet!”

“What the hell is this thing?” Martin said, walking forward and poking the corpse with his foot.

“Well there are some cow bones over here,” Dura said with a shrug, “so I say we make up a name for it so the farmers think we know what we were doing. The crabtopus, sound good?”

“Crabtopus, got it,” Martin nodded.

“Say,” Dura said with a grin, “do you think it’s edible?”

…

The pot full of water bubbled over the warm glow of the small campfire, the segments of crablike leg floating amidst the handful of meat seasonings the pair had paid entirely too much for a few towns back.

As was their usual campsite routine, Dura lay relaxing by the flickering firelight. Martin slowly worked his fingers over her feet, eliciting a pleased sigh from his mistress.

“Illusion spell,” she muttered, flexing her soles against hist thumbs as she gave the command.

Martin concentrated, muttering a spell under his breath and causing a transparent version of himself to walk by their campsite, turning and giving the orc woman a wink before vanishing.

“Flirty,” She chuckled, “I like that.” She sat up, regarding her human pet as he diligently worked on her sore feet. He noticed her watching, and with a smile bent down, giving the top of the green toes a simple kiss. “Keep doing that,” she ordered, reaching down to unbuckle her belt. Martin’s eyes went wide as her pants slowly slid down her toned body, revealing the dark hairs around her pink slit, already glistening with arousal from his displays of submission.

The wafting smell of her sex enticed him almost as much as the pungent odor of her feet, and he gazed longingly at her, his manhood already straining against his rough pants. For her part Dura simply chuckled, continuing to play with herself and watching as the human man worshiped her toes.

“I’ve been thinking,” she gasped, biting back a moan of pleasure, “I’m ready to head home.”

He stopped, gazing her in shock, “B-But there’s so much more to-“

“Did I tell you to stop kissing?” she grinned. He paused, but slowly brought his mouth down again, placing slow kisses across her soles. “That’s better,” she said smugly, biting her lip as her finger traced gently over her clit, “Now like I said, I’m homesick, I feel like going back to Orcish territory… but I want you to come with me!”

“Yes!” he blurted out, “of course!”

“I like the answer,” she growled, “but these damn orcish pheromones just turn your little humie brain to jelly…” She leaned forward, bringing the wet finger that had been in her womanhood up just under his nose. The sharp pungent musk of her juices almost made him see stars as she teasingly traced the wet finger under his nostril. “Look at that,” she mused, “you’d agree to be my slave forever now, wouldn’t you?”

“G-Go get the chains!” he stammered.

She rolled her eyes and grinned, “Clean my fingers, now!” He leaned forward, his mouth eagerly closing over the green digits and sucking every last drop of her cum off of them. “The only way I can be sure I’m getting a straight answer,” she mused, “is to really wear you down, make sure that when I ask if you want to come with me the second time, you’ll be so drained that your cock won’t have any say in the decision.” With a wet *pop* she pulled her fingers out of his mouth, laying back and spreading her legs as she finished kicking her trousers off. “Now, taste it from the source!” she grinned.

Martin leapt forward, burying his face between her legs as her thighs clamped around his ears, sealing him in while licked eagerly from her slit. Dura let out a long gasp, gripping his hair tightly and grinding him against herself. Each drop of her potent juices was driving the human mad, and he fought for breath as he consumed her wetness like a man dying of thirst.

“Fuck humie, that’s one hell of a tongue!” she grunted. A moment later her thighs quivered, clenching a final time around Martin’s head with enough strength that for a moment Dura worried she’d hurt him, but then she collapsed, panting as the human looked up, his face wet with her juices.

“You taste divine,” he whispered, “every part of you always tastes divine… I’m going back-“

“G-Give a girl a minute!” Dura laughed, still sucking in air as she tried to recover.

He licked his lips, savoring the flavor of her womanhood still lingering on them, then started inching closer, drawn by the intoxicating orcish pheromones. Dura noticed, and with a chuckle held her hand out towards him. Sparks danced across her fingers, and there was a flash, and Martin’s clothes hung in the air a moment before descending, empty, to the cavern floor.

Dura watched, pleased with herself, as the tiny lump of the human wiggled through his oversized clothes, poking his head out at the bottom of his shirt and looking up at her in confusion. She stood up, looming over him and giving him a good view of her still wet slit in the flickering firelight, with a smug grin she lifted her foot high, as though she were stomping a bug.

“D-Dura wait-“

Her foot slammed downward, only slowing at the last minute, pinning him against the fabric of his field sized shirt instead of splattering him like a ripe grape.

“Scared ya, didn’t I?” she taunted, rolling the ball of her foot over him and enjoying the feel of his tiny erection against her smooth sole.

“Yes,” Martin moaned, gripping her toes as her foot roughly brushed across him again, the massive green toes his lovers as they playfully pinched and released his body.

“When we get back home, I’m going to have to let some of my friends have a turn with you,” she said in a husky voice. “What do you think?” He could only moan in response, ravaged by the enormous green foot as she roughly scrunched it over him, coating him in the thick soup of enchanting foot sweat. “Sounds like a yes!” she grinned, “And then we’ll start the ceremonies…”

“C-Ceremonies?” Martin managed.

“Oh yes,” Dura laughed, “I think I want to be with you for life, marriage tends to be a long drawn out thing with us, there are a lot of rituals, commitments… Finishing the damn thing can take some couples years!”

Years!? Martin imagined spending years on the plains with Dura, years building up to… Well, why not? A lucid part of him argued, What do you have here holding you back?

“Now one of my favorite parts,” Dura said, biting her lip as she roughly dragged her foot over him again, rolling him along the shirt fabric, “Is the opening declarations, it’s when you have to compose a poem and mention what parts of me you like best!”

“Y-You’re strong, brave-“ he started, closing his eyes as her foot came back for another pass, causing him to gasp and his thoughts to flee as the grainy sweat stung his eyes and the skin pressed his manhood.

“Nope, that kinda thing is for later,” Dura grinned, “the first one’s just the lewd bits… And I want you to compose one for my feet!”

“What!?” Martin stammered, “Y-You can’t seriously expect me to-“ Dura’s big toe pressed over his face, covering it easily and silencing him while giving him a mouthful of the earthy grime coating it.

“Yes, it will be before all of the tribe’s women,” she said smugly, “as is tradition. You will talk, no sing, I want you to sing for them of how you’ve fallen in love with my perfect toes, how you’ve learned the perfect place for a human man is at an orc woman’s feet!”

She heared muffled cries of pleasure from beneath her toe, and she grinned victoriously as the droplets of seed sprayed feebly against her sole. When she was satisified he was spent, she lifted her foot off of him, revealing the dazed and smiling inches tall human. Casually she wiped her foot of on his shirt, leaving the tiny droplets of his cum behind as she peered down at him.

“Well, we’ve got about two minutes before the smell of my cunt starts making your head fuzzy again,” Dura said with a smirk, “and now that you’ve got an idea of what I’m going to do to you when we get back home… Do you still want to come with me?”

“Yes,” he panted up at her, smiling, “YES!” he shouted again, louder, euphoric.

“I was pretty sure that would be the answer,” she said with a kind grin, “but it’s nice to hear it… now let’s have a little more fun, I’m sure there are plenty of places a tiny humie like you could fit, hmm?”

As the titanic green woman bent down to pick him up, Martin couldn’t have felt happier.

…

The pair looked out over the vast eastern grasslands, the payment from their final job in the Imperial lands clinking pleasantly in Dura’s satchel as they walked.

“Well, say goodbye,” She said with a sad smile, “I know it’s asking a lot, for you to leave your homeland.”

“If I miss it we can always come back someday,” he said with a shrug. He grinned at her, hefting his pack and his axe, “besides, I think I’m going to like where I’m going.”

“You’ve got that right, it’s a few weeks out, but once we get back to my old village they’re going to throw us a massive welcoming party! Grilled meats, strong booze, and plenty of us greenskins looking to welcome the new strawhead!” she ruffled his blond hair for emphasis.

“Well, let’s get going, it’s a long way,” he said with a sigh.

“Yeah, I forget, you humies don’t have as much stamina cross country, huh?”

He frowned, “I’m much stronger than I was, what are you-“ he didn’t have time to finish the sentence as the shrinking spell hit him, reducing him to inches among the towering forest of grass. Before him the faraway green pillar of Dura’s leg was already lifting out of her sandal, and with a grin the mountainous orc was bringing her fingers down to scoop him up again.

“I wouldn’t want you to get tired out,” She teased, grabbing a familiar pair of leather cords from her belt, “So you’re going to cross the prairie in a nice safe spot that will conserve your energy!”

Once again Martin felt himself being bound up, tied at his wrists and ankles as his orcish mistress carefully looped the ends of the leather into the rest of her sandals, securing him in place against the sole. The warmth of her foot coated his body as the surprisingly soft appendage slid into the sandal over him. Her feet were pungent as always, settling in comfortably over him as she took the first step of their journey.

How many steps was it before I came last time? He tried to remember, struggling to keep count with each footfall that squeezed his body.

“Next stop, home!” Dura said eagerly, picking up her pace as she trekked off into the prairie.