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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is intended to be a Halloween special, but if this is received well and I have the time, I may add additional scenes that take place during the time jumps. Maybe even a sequel.

Three days in and he was beginning to lose hope.

He didn't know who he was or where he came from; his memories from before were a miasma of color and fog. All he knew was her. She had taken his life from him.

The page rustled as she flipped it, and her toes scrunched enough for the rough cotton to scratch his nose. He'd come to learn that this meant she was pleased with whatever she was reading. Good. Maybe this particular exercise would soon be over.

However, instead of planting her feet on either side of him and standing, she drew in the sock-clad peds. They tickled his chest and stomach as they moved down his body, and stopped with her toes planted on his pelvis and her heel arching over his groin. Without a thought, she dropped her heel to gently press against his glans. He desperately tried to move his arms from their bent position. He knew he couldn't bat her legs away, but maybe just letting himself fall would suffice. But, no matter how much his brain commanded them, his arms and hands stayed behind him, aching from holding his weight for so long. He was powerless to stop her.

The dried sweat from her foraging boots had made the fabric of the sock even more coarse. As she slowly twisted her heel into his sensitive organ, the rough cotton prickled his skin not entirely unpleasantly. His member grew in response, and she began to rub her arches along the shaft. Her toes poked and kneaded at his tip. And all the while she was flipping through pages on a quest for information, paying no mind to the conflicted wreck beneath her. He was a toy at her feet, an outlet for any restless energy impeding her focus. And the more energy he took in, the more he needed to release.

She sighed. Thump! The book slammed shut. Her toes gave his glans one last tug before they slid down to behind his head. The rest of her rose over him until he was staring straight at her crotch. Tights of the blackest black hugged her calves and thighs, and stretched over her shapely backside until stopping at her waist. Beyond that, a lightweight robe hung open, revealing her tight stomach and a pair of perky breasts held in a gray sports bra.

She peered down at him, and then looked to his engorged penis with a giggle.

"Clean the cabin while I sleep, Pet. I have a friend coming over. You can rest when you're finished." With that, she walked away, making sure her foot had one last graze of his sensitive flesh.

Released from his mystical bonds, the pet didn't hesitate to drop onto his back. His arms fell limp at his sides, reveling in their regained freedom. He lay against the cold stone floor, hoping she wouldn't punish him for laziness. His eyes drooped, and the sweet mists of slumber threatened to take him, until the sound of cloth hitting the ground roused him.

He'd seen this the prior two nights as well; she wasn't shy around him in the slightest. His mistress was standing in her bedroom, turned away with the robe discarded at her feet. Without a look back, she gripped the sides of her tights and peeled them down her legs, giving her pet a full view of her ass as she bent down. Finished with that, she removed her bra and tossed it away, and then pulled down her pitch-black thong, exposing her womanhood on the way down. Whether or not she knew he was watching, his mistress didn't acknowledge him at all as she climbed to bed and the candles in her room extinguished themselves.

The whole time, her pet had only gotten harder.

...


He was lucky, at least, that the majority of her home cleaned itself. Counter tops, work spaces, sinks, and the toilet were all kept spotless by an unseen force. Even the fireplace was kept ever-burning without the need for fresh wood. That left the floors, the dishes, and the laundry.

He swung the broom as best he could; the handle was a long pole in his hands. Why she made him half-height, he could only guess at. Harder to escape? Unlikely. The air itself was a hard barrier if he tried to leave without permission. Naturally, he'd discovered that on his first night here. Nevertheless, he swept as best he could, using size to his advantage to get into all the nooks and crannies.

Apparently, the cabin had only seen a superficial cleaning for some time. The piles he drew from beneath the furniture contained clumps of dirt tracked in on the bottom of boots, nail clippings from many toes and fingers, strands of hair of various length and color, old crumbs of indeterminate origin, and dust bunnies that were bigger than his fists. Unfortunately, several trips to the trash can were needed. It was good that anything that went inside disappeared as though it had never existed.

There was a conspicuous lack of modernity throughout the cabin. She took the "witch thing" seriously. And who could blame her? Why keep a noisy fridge when your cabinets preserve eternally? Why a microwave or stove when your mystical fire cooks to perfection? However, the kitchen sink stood as a testament to the usefulness of modern indoor plumbing, whether magical in nature or mundane.

As his forehead barely reached the counter top, the pet had to pull a chair from her dining table, careful to avoid any further unpleasantness by waking her. When he was set, he did her dishes as quietly as he could, occasionally glancing toward her room to ensure she wasn't disturbed. At some point, while tossing a plate of half-gnawed chicken bones into the garbage, he looked up to see that his mistress had thrown her blanket in such a way that it revealed her black-tipped toes, and beyond that her bare chest. Were she standing behind him in that moment, those breasts would loom above him like an overhead shelf, not even grazing the tips of his hair.

Finally, he came to his last chore. After pulling his chair to the enchanted barrel that both washed and dried her clothes, he crept his way into her bedroom. Her clothes were right where she'd left them, in a messy pile just beside her bed. Not far away, another heap lay stinking of old sweat. These were her workout clothes from the day before. She'd neglected to have him wash them when they were still fresh.

As he set to work collecting an armload of fabric, he couldn't help but peer at her bed. From the light entering from the rest of the house, he could make out her gentle curves, now covered once again, moving peacefully as she breathed. Her back was to him, but he could imagine her wearing the same serene expression she had while reading. It was peaceful, graceful even. Now hauling her robe, panties, and bra as a hulking bundle, the cocktail of her many scents nearly made his head spin. Minty body wash, flowery perfume, a fruity lotion, even the earthy, spicy smells that filled the cabin as his mistress worked at potion making. All these combined with a heavy undertone of her sweat to make a concoction that was really, truly, her. His nose brushed against a layer of cloth, below which was one of her bra cups. As a familiar tightness threatened to overtake his crotch, he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly attracted to his tormentor or if this too was a part of the magics weaved over him.

It took him another trip to deposit the rest of that day's clothes, and then it was on to the previous day's. There were no good smells here. Everything was covered in the now-too-familiar smell of her particular brand of sweat. The pet didn't know which was worse; the workout leggings had multiple smells from the different body parts they covered, but her socks were just saturated in the same universal scent. As he toted the last load, he unknowingly allowed the pants of her leggings to drag along the ground. His feet found them in no time, however, and he was sent tumbling to the ground in a flurry of limbs and stale cloth. Before he checked if she'd been woken up, before he checked if her clothes had been ripped, he lifted his face from the seat of her leggings and had a singular thought: they were definitely worse than her socks.

The clothes had take only a few minutes to be washed and dried, and he folded them and laid them as best he could in a basket before her wardrobe; there was no way he could open those doors and drawers. He looked at the cuckoo clock she kept above her workstations. 9:23 AM. She'd been asleep for almost three hours. It was longer than he would've liked.

The pet sighed, and entered his mistress' room. With the candles and fireplace having doused or limited themselves as the sun rose, the bedroom was now lit by what minuscule light found its way through the curtained windows. He could still make out her form, inhaling and exhaling in the faintest kind of snore.

Beside her nightstand were a pair of shoes: black cloth and white rubber. They were her favorites.

"Enjoy them while you can," she'd said deviously. "When it gets too cold, I'll be swapping to boots entirely."

The pet approached them, and knelt down. In this stance, the soles would only be a few inches shy of his forehead if he stood them on end. Rather than linger on that, he bent down and kissed each heel three times. Then, he moved forward and did the same to each toe. Finally, he chose one at random. Without lifting it, the pet shoved his face into the interior and inhaled.

The disgusting scent of dirt and foot sweat made his world spin. He'd performed this ritual twice before, and it wasn't any better. Apparently, whatever spell she used to keep the shoes in good repair didn't bother to clean them, or at least remove the smell.

When he finally regained his balance and sight, he saw the same as he had on the previous nights. He was in a giant cave, only instead of the mouth being in front of him, it was above him. The scent he'd taken in was ubiquitous now, and permeated the very air around him. The pet sighed internally. The ground around him was firm and stale, but a moistness still persisted in spots, particularly in the deeper reaches of the cave. Just as the nights prior, he found the best place to be in the back, beneath the mouth, in the crevasses where the walls met the ground.

He lay there, all but wallowing in his mistress' sweat, thinking about his life as he knew it. He wished he could remember who he was before, if only so he could look back on good times. But, who's to say there were any good times? For all he knew, she'd plucked him from a life of misery and given him one of servitude instead, potentially a better life than he'd had before.

Maybe this was the actual, real-deal, honest-to-god afterlife. Had he died and gone to... wherever this was? Heaven, Hell, somewhere in between? Did he deserve the treatment he was getting? Was this meant to be a punishment or a privilege? Maybe it was all in what you make of it, neither good nor bad, just a fact of li-

Why did he have an erection? The entire time his head had been swamped with thoughts, he'd slowly, subconsciously, been humping the insole. Another sigh brought in a strong whiff of salty, vinegary, air, and he realized it was the same smell his mistress' feet had while caressing his cock as she read. He'd been so close to release then...

His dick throbbed. He maintained his motions, rubbing the thing along the sweat-stained fabric. He shoved his face into cloth, taking in the scent. Her scent. He forgot where he was, imagining instead that his mistress was shoving one foot in his face, while the other stroked the sensitive skin of his penis. He humped in return, trying desperately to maximize his pleasure.

"Oh, my pet is needy today!" she said. "It's ok, you deserve a reward." She stroked harder, so hard that her robe parted to reveal bare breasts bouncing with the motion. He was almost there...

"Go ahead. You've been good. You can finish."

His hips buckled. His mistress shoved both feet in her pet's face as he ejaculated into whatever was still touching him. He passed out with her socks still pressed against his mouth and nose.

When he came to, he found that he'd shot his microscopic load into the insole. The fabric absorbed most of it; in the unlikely event she did notice, hopefully it would just look like sweat stains. He wiped himself along any dry spot nearby. When he was as clean as he could be, he found a new place to curl up, and fell asleep almost instantly. For the rest of his slumber, he only dreamed of an abstract shadow constantly grinning as it loomed over him.

...


"Ugh, my shoes are scuffed," she cried, disgusted, and shoved the rubber tip in his face. "Be a dear and clean them for me."

"Mine too?"

"Oh, where are my manners. You're a guest. Pet, make Maggie's boots spotless."

The toe of a heeled, brown leather boot was shoved in his face. Splatters of mud stared back at him, the few clear spots like eyes waiting expectantly. The pet looked up at the shoe's owner. Bare legs disappeared beneath a lacy, caramel-colored dress decorated with rattling earth-tone beads. A freckled face surrounded by a shaggy mane of orange hair peered down at him. Matching eyebrows raised expectantly.

"What are you waiting for?" he heard his mistress scold.

Ever so slightly, the man opened his mouth. The tip of the boot was shoved inside without hesitation, the grit scraping his tongue while tendrils of dead grass tickled his gums. He nearly gagged at the taste of dirt and forest scum. But, forcing it down, he began the arduous task of moving his tongue across the bottom of the filthy boot.

"He's pretty obedient, Chrys. How long did it take to break him? Mine took a little while," the redhead spoke, watching the little man choke on her boot.

The pet's mistress pulled a chair beside her friend's. "Just a few days. I watched him for awhile before deciding on him. Where is yours? Did you..." she trailed off as she sat.

"Yeah, it was easier than bringing him separately." Maggie nodded toward her canvas bag. She popped her foot from the cleaner's mouth and inserted the other.

"With him fighting so much, did you get much out of him?" Chrysanthemum inquired.

"Not a lot, but I don't really need that much this year. You should get a good bit out of yours, though." She tapped the man's head with her clean shoe.

"I intend to. I've put him to good use these last few weeks."

When both pairs of shoes were spotless, Chrys hit her pet with a burst of blue sparks. The women watched, laughing, as the man's height diminished further. They stood, and the man could merely stand in place as he went from hip-height to knee-height. The boots he had just been shining exceeded his height. Looking up, he was now small enough that the women had to bend slightly to giggle at him over their chests. When he was eye-to-eye with the their toes, the two girls teased him by hanging their freshly-cleaned soles over him. Maggie went a step further, literally, by dropping her foot. The massive object forced him to duck as it crashed down, and a fit of laughter erupted from the women above. The man pried open his eyes to see a brown heel taller than him, the sloping arch of the boot resting overhead. He heard a door open, and suddenly the oppressive mass rocketed away as the two women left, still chuckling.

The door slammed shut, blasting the man with a wave of cool autumn air. He was left naked and shivering on the stony plain of the floor. At the end of the room was the fireplace, lowering itself from a roaring flame to a glowing cinder. Whatever warmth was left disappeared as though a valve had been shut. Clutching himself, the pet almost regretted that he'd done his mistress' laundry, and solemnly started his trek toward the meager hearth.



The door flew open hours later, and Chrys and Maggie stumbled in, rosy-cheeked and arms flung around each other. Incessant giggling and the slamming door woke the pet from his fitful rest near the fireplace. The women stumbled and collapsed onto the sofa together, their laughter slowly morphing into hazy smiles.

From his position on the floor, the pet saw two pairs of legs intermingle. He heard their giggling subside, replaced by silence and then a few quiet wet smacks. Legs lifted as the women toppled, and he saw his mistress' head land at the opposing end of the sofa. A dumb smile was plastered across her face, below which was the bright orange mass of Maggie's hair moving slightly. Chrys moaned, and slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze fell on the pet.

"Mag... let's use them."

The redhead arose, revealing the red splotches she was leaving on Chrys' neck. She followed the brunette's eye line toward the man, and then smiled. "Yeah, let's do it."

Maggie dismounted the other woman and alighted to where she'd thrown her bag. With the redhead off of her, Chrys rose from the sofa. The pet could only tremble as his mistress approached, her giant form stopping just before him, blotting out the rest of the room.

"Time for some fun, little guy," she said as she knelt down. Her warm hand wrapped around him, the most comfort he'd had all night, but the sense of foreboding kept him from enjoying it.

They spun around and rose, the giant woman never taking her eyes off of him. She blinked slowly, almost seductively, and gave the little man a toothy grin. The ferocious maw in front of him opened. With a wink, she tossed him onto the wet, bumpy surface of her tongue, and everything was cut off as the giant mouth around him closed.

The stench of alcohol hung in the saturated air. Saliva swished and gurgled as the muscle beneath him twitched. Her mouth cracked slightly, and the pet saw another set of lips fast approaching. There was a jolt as the two women collided. The man was flung to the ground, saliva covering his face and chest as he slid across the countless taste buds. A moan reverberated throughout his cage of flesh and teeth, but it was impossible to tell which woman had released it. Cool air rushed in as his mistress took a breath. However, the little man had no time to enjoy it.

The tongue below him twitched before launching into the air. He hit the roof of her mouth hard, the ridges poking into his back as the muscle holding him continued to push. It began to retreat to the back of her throat, but its pressure never released. Instead, it deposited its sticky liquid all along his front side. Face, chest, cock, legs... the entire length of him was covered in her saliva. But the tongue wasn't finished. It reversed, coming back for a second pass. Plump flesh rubbed along his groin, sending shivers of pleasure up his body. He was erect instantly.

The man felt the tongue move him toward the front of her mouth, and soon the harsh ridges of the roof were replaced by another mass of slithering, wet flesh. He was passed back and forth between the two tongues, tumbling between the slimy muscles, not knowing up from down or in from out. Two different salivas lubricated his trading; their contrasting tastes synthesized into one as the liquids forced their way into his nose and mouth. The slippery, bumpy flesh of the tongues rubbed his groin with each passed. He had to wonder if they were doing it intentionally.

Before he could finish, one of the tongues exited, and the one he remained on dropped him against the woman's bottom front teeth. The tip of the giant muscle plunged into the flesh below. As if summoned from another plane, a pool of saliva flowed suddenly into his tiny chamber, filling it up to his neck. The tongue swooped upward, carrying the pool and the little man within up and into the woman's pursing lips. He was pushed through the fleshy tube by pressure alone, toward the light of the outside world, until finally he was shot out.

SPLAT! An open palm caught him and the glob of spit that followed.

"I hope you enjoyed it, little man," the honeyed voice of his mistress flowed over him as a warm breeze. "But not too much, the night's just begun."

He opened his eyes, wiping the women's saliva from his face. Like an enormous mountainside, the witch's breasts and head hung above, a drunken, seductive smile beaming down at him.

Slowly, her palm began to twist. Her spit flowed with the increasing slope.

"Agh!" The little pet cried out. The saliva carried him along, over the ridges of her hand and toward the edge. He gripped at her skin, but the sticky liquid was too much. He went over the edge with the drop of spit, and again he fell.

This drop was longer than the previous ones. Though it lasted only a second, he watched his mistress' body rush passed as he fell the length of her torso. Her tight stomach was replaced by her shaven womanhood, but that too was replaced by the gap between her thighs.

He landed with a roll atop a pale hill, its soft ground preventing most of the pain. He crawled a few feet, an instinctual response to check if his limbs were in working order.

"He tickles!" the voice of Maggie echoed across the landscape as she chuckled.

"He's about to do more than that." Chrys said, opposite and higher up from the other woman.

While passing him between them like a piece of hard candy, the women had made their way to his mistress' bedroom. What's more, they'd managed to strip and climb atop the bed without breaking their lip-lock for more than a moment. And now the pet was between them, or rather, among them. The nude form of his mistress towered overhead, so close that he could probably reach her labia if he made a particularly good leap from his current position. In the other direction, the redhead's face was craned up to see him, propped up on her elbows for support. He soon learned why; right beside his landing zone was a patch of dark skin radiating from a column not much shorter than himself.

Chrys' massive hand descended from the heavens, and dropped a giant finger atop him. Without the slightest effort, she shoved him through the slick saliva, across the darker skin and right up to Maggie's left nipple. The finger rose, this time meeting its partner thumb to stroke the already-stiff teat. A whisper of a moan escaped the redhead's lips.

"Make her feel good, pet." Chrys said. She slid down the other woman's body until her face disappeared between the freckled thighs.

Maggie collapsed, and let out a real moan as the jolt reverberated through her tits. The little pet had to grab her nipple to keep from being thrown off. He looked to the redhead's face, dumbstruck at what he was expected to do, until the woman caught a glimpse of him and mouthed "Do it." Though her expression was one of ecstasy, the little man knew "... or else" was meant to follow.

He wrapped his arms around the nipple, unsure of how to proceed. How did they expect him to do this? Would he even be felt? Not knowing what else to do, he rubbed in a circular motion as though waxing a car. Maggie didn't respond, at least no more than she already was to the pleasure given by the other woman.

One of them seemed to hit the spot though, as a shiver went up the redhead's body. The little man again gripped the nipple to avoid falling, though this time a shiver went up his spine as well. He hadn't realized that his penis was fully engorged, and he'd just rubbed it along the fleshy ridges of Maggie's little pillar. He went back to his circular stroking, but... he was desperate for some pleasure of his own. Surely, they wouldn't notice... would they?

At first it was only a brief touch as his body rocked to counter the wobbling breast, just a slight tingle to encourage him. But, it didn't take long for the temptation to overtake him. He fully embraced the nipple, thrusting his cock between the ridges, hoping that he was at least pleasuring her while he pleasured himself. In, out, in, out... the pressure within him was mounting, spurred on by the giant woman's moans and whimpers.

"W... Wait." the redhead breathed.

The little man didn't stop, but he opened his eyes to see Maggie reaching into her bag placed strategically on the nightstand.

"Oh yeah, we forgot one," Chrys said, her voice far behind him.

The pet's thrusts all but stopped, his focus now drawn toward the giant arm ascending from the bag. Maggie's hand slipped over the lip, revealing what she'd halted the lovemaking for; a curious green crystal, about the length of her finger, attached to a loop of string by a complicated ornamental net. It appeared to be a kind of necklace. The giantess handed the strange object to her lover.

"Use this,"she whispered.

As the necklace changed hands far above his head, the little man saw something move within the crystal. Through the knot of grasping fingers, he could just make out a figure... another person! A man trapped within a space inside the pendant, his face contorted into an expression of equal wonder and fear. The two men locked eyes for a moment... before the brunette goddess whipped him away without a thought.

Her hand lowered while the rest of her slithered back up the body of the redhead, until the two women were staring eye-to-eye. The little pet, still humping, had to crane his neck to see the crystal start to glow as his mistress lowered it beneath Maggie's pelvis. An incredible moan was the only evidence he needed to know where his fellow captive had ended up.

It was worrying, but for whatever reason the little man couldn't bring it in himself to care. Humping the nipple of a cute redhead moaning in ecstasy while the enormous breasts of his mistress hung overhead... He was as hard as he'd ever been. Well, that he could remember anyway. He was going to blow any second now.

The already-dim light suddenly even dimmer. A massive weight collapsed on the man without warning, mashing him into the breast he'd been having his way with. By some miracle, the ridge he'd been thrusting to hadn't sheared off his cock when the mass landed. But, he did feel the object move the tit around, and he along with it. Pushing, squeezing... massaging. He was caught between Maggie's boob and Chrys' hand. If either of them felt him, they didn't acknowledge it.

The redhead's moaning and whimpering had only intensified as he lay between jiggling fat and undulating digits. He couldn't move, not even to rub the tip of his penis along the soft skin he was held against. But, he could hear in excruciating detail as the women's lovemaking came to a peak.

"Do you like it?" the voice of his mistress called out.

"M... more than anything..."

"Are you almost there?"

"Uh... uh... uh huh..."

The pet heard a few long kisses from somewhere around Maggie's collarbone.

"Go ahead. You've been good. You can finish."

It seemed that was all the redhead needed to hear. He heard the sounds of her orgasm, long moans and sharp gasps. He heard her breaths deep beneath him as she basked in the glow of release, and soon he heard the women resume the kind of kissing that had put him in this current predicament.

"My turn," he heard his mistress whisper.

As the women swapped positions, the little man was flung from the redhead's breast, forgotten in favor of the harder, longer, more easily manipulated toy. He tumbled across the bed before falling again, this time being swallowed up by a pile of underwear. Deep within the confines of a cloth cave, he heard the women return to their fun. He couldn't see out, but he knew when Maggie started her foreplay on his mistress. The smell of the women's nether regions was intoxicating, and fed into his primal desires. He pleasured himself to the sounds of the women, and blew his load before they'd gone to the main event. Afterward, it didn't take long at all for the soft fabric and post-orgasm hormones to lull him into a dreamless yet restful sleep.

...


It'd been just under a week since his participation in his mistress' rendezvous. By his count, that meant today was his thirty-first day in her service. Standing at just under knee height, the pet had struggled to complete the task she'd set before him: cleaning a pair of black high-heeled boots that were taller than he was. But he'd accomplished it nevertheless, and stepped back to marvel, scrub brush in hand, at his work. The myriad smells of his mistress' potion making flowed from one of the other rooms. He hoped she wouldn't make him clean that up too.

A draft of air rushed passed him, signifying that she'd just swung open the door. Without any words, the pet was scooped up from behind, yanked into the sky by his unseen goddess. He only saw her hands, already swirling with blue magic as she gripped him and turned around. The appendages seemed to grow around him, until he was completely encapsulated by them. When she stopped walking, he figured himself to be an inch tall. He felt her hand pivot, and she released her grasp.

He splashed into the bubbling cauldron, the stinging liquid prickling his skin as he sank beneath the surface. He flailed, trying to rise, but a giant spoon dipped under and held him just under. His lungs demanded oxygen, but his struggling limbs couldn't shake his mistress' utensil. As he opened his mouth in a desperate, futile attempt for air, he thanked the universe that the liquid only felt slightly warm temperature-wise instead of the boiling heat that the bubbles had suggested.

But no water filled his lungs. Instead, a solid mass began to form in front of him. Its crystalline structure expanded around him, growing until it looked like a cocoon of glass. When it was finished, the spoon reached down and lifted him up, somehow leaving behind the water that had been within his capsule when it formed. His prison was pulled from beneath the bubbling surface, until the only thing he saw was the devious smile of his mistress. She deposited him on the counter and grabbed a fine, elegant gold wire from somewhere behind. With a whisper, she magically pushed the wire through the solid crystal and then melded it together end-to-end.

A knock echoed through the cabin as she examined her work.

"Come in!"

The crystal prison muffled sound as though his ears were full of water, but the pet heard the distinct sound of a door open and shut, followed by loud footsteps enter the room.

"Oh, you're just finishing up!"

It was Maggie. Great. As if to cement the fact, he was thrown against the icy, smooth wall as his mistress turned to display her work. The redhead stood in the doorway, dressed in the same canvas dress he'd seen her in originally. This time, though, she'd decorated herself with autumn leaves, twigs, vines, and even a full spiderweb clinging to her mane, complete with a little spider hanging on as if it were a mere hair clip. To tie it all together, her own little man was hanging on full display between her breasts.

"Ah, you went with a necklace as well," she observed.

"Yeah, it's the most convenient way I've found," Chrys responded, giving the little crystal a bounce.

"Same. I wore mine as a bracelet last year. It was
nice and always within reach, but the weight and shape got uncomfortable after awhile. Are you ready?"

"Yep, just need to get my boots on." Her pet had to brace against the crystal as she slipped the necklace over her head and pulled back the collar of her black dress. The crevasse of her cleavage rose to meet him as she let the necklace slide inside. The fabric snapped back into place, but the man could still see the other witch standing only a few feet away- a diamond-shaped hole right around where his prison sat atop her cleavage formed a window to the outside world.

He could only watch and brace himself as his mistress walked into the living room, his world shaking with every footstep. Her giant arm extended out and grabbed a black pointed hat with a purple band above the brim. She placed it on her head as she sat and pulled over the boots he'd been cleaning.

The crystal hung through the hole as she leaned over. Far below him, her legs slipped into the shoes, over knee-length purple-and-black striped socks. He couldn't help but imagine the smell those socks would soon be radiating, a smell he was intimately familiar with. A smell that regrettably caused his flaccid dick to twitch.

Standing, the woman looked herself over.

"What do you think?"

Maggie looked up from her cell phone. "Stunning," she said, smiling.

Chrys approached the front door and pulled back the curtain on the window, giving her pet his first view in a long time of the world outside her cabin. The last bit of the day's sunlight shone through a forest of trees still clinging to most of their leaves. A long dirt path was barely visible beneath what leaves had already fallen as it wormed its way through the forest. In the distance, the light of a town could just be seen shining against low-lying clouds.

But the image lasted only a second. Without so much as a snap of the witch's fingers, the window turned opaque, and then became mirrored. The pet saw himself, trapped within the bluish crystal around his mistress' neck, visible through the decorative hole. On either side of him, similar holes of descending size curved toward the witch's shoulders. These, combined with the short length of the dress, showed enough skin that no one could doubt his mistress' non-innocence. Above him, dark eye shadow and lipstick were the final touches to make her look the part of a stereotypical yet beautiful young witch.

"Alright, let's go."
The window became transparent instantly. Chrys picked up an empty burlap sack from a table beside the door, and the two women exited into the crisp air.

He half-expected them to pick up brooms and fly away, but the exterior of the cabin had no such implements: not even a rake. As the door closed behind them, the little man was preparing to endure the rough shaking and bouncing of a long walk. But, the women soon made their method of travel clear. Reaching into their bags, they each pulled out a door mat. They let the little rectangles unroll, releasing their grips when the things reached full length. The mats fell, but... at a foot from the ground they stopped., hovering as though they were laid across a perfectly straight, solid floor. They didn't bend or wobble as the women stepped on, instead remaining completely firm. Then, after making sure both were ready, the women leaned forward slightly.

They were off, zooming along the winding path at speeds no other vehicle could safely match. The forest was all but a blur to the little man, but his mistress' hair and dress remained completely still. She stood there with a bored expression, not even flinching when a branch whipped by mere inches from her face. It was as if she was standing in line at the DMV, not flying through the forest so fast she should be wearing goggles and a helmet.

Needless to say, they were at the town in no time. The mats stopped just as instantly as they'd started, halting at the edge of town without even a hint of inertia. The women dismounted, and the mats re-rolled themselves before floating into the witches' hands. As the women deposited their vehicles back into their bags, the little prisoner managed to get a look at his surroundings.

Small buildings of unpainted wood and stone radiated out from a circular plaza, paths snaking between them and out of the town like the tendrils of some eldritch horror. In the very center was a gnarled, sprawling, ferocious oak tree. Its trunk bore a devilish face, clearly grown instead of carved, that was contorted as though it was snarling at whomever gazed upon it. Five mighty roots spread out from the tree's base, each one pointing toward one of the village's more prominent walkways.

The plaza seemed to be holding some kind of festival. Stages, market stalls, and even a vintage-looking food truck or two were spread throughout, each one adorned with candles, oil lamps, jack o' lanterns, bones, and wreaths of dead twigs and vines. A huge number of people milled around, laughing, buying, selling, playing games...

At least, he thought they were people. A pale, dark haired man rose from a barrel filled with water. In his impossibly pointed canines was a bright red apple, held only by his top teeth. Elsewhere, a woman in Victorian garb pulled around a similarly dressed man by a leash around his neck- except his skin was slightly green and peeling in places, and half his jaw was devoid of flesh entirely. Nearby, a particularly hairy man began to howl as the moon arose.

"... Ingredients. I'm almost out of dragon claw."

The pet realized his mistress had been talking, though it didn't matter. It wasn't for him anyway.

"I really just need a new brewing spoon," Maggie replied. "I added too much naga venom to something a few days ago."

"Ouch. Dissolved completely?"

"Pretty much."

The women entered the crowd, meandering passed the various stalls and shops. They watched a man with a large handlebar mustache demonstrate what he called the "Instant Homunculus," wherein he sprinkled water over a little clay ball that grew into a featureless humanoid about a foot tall. A little later, they happened across an old woman selling "Ghost Lights," luminous orbs of various colors about the size of a fist. She showed the two women how they could be used as easy reading lights, and joked about using them to find her way home after a few too many at the local pub.

They finally came across a stall labeled "Madame Jayne's Wondrous Ingredients." Surrounded by built-in shelves filled with exotic herbs, spices, and body parts, a curvy middle-aged woman in a burgundy robe chopped onion-like plants into small cubes.

"Good evening, my dears," she said, breasts all but spilling out. "Looking for anything in particular?"

Chrys stepped a bit closer, giving her pet a peek down the older woman's dress. He noted that she was not wearing a necklace of any kind, a bit relieved not to be staring at the face of another helpless prisoner.

"Yes, I need enough dragon claws to last the year," his mistress declared.

"Will that be hatchlings or yearlings... or adults?"

"Hatchlings will be fine. I think yearlings are too temperamental, and adults are a bit outside my budget." She shrugged, bouncing the little man at her chest.

"I agree," Madam Jayne said, smiling as she fetched a jar full of tiny curved claws. "You only need adult claws for really powerful effects. Yearlings are good if you mix them in with hatchlings for a little boost, but on their own they're pretty inconsistent." She poured the claws into a tiny bag until it was full. "Anything else?"

"I could use a few more hummingbird tongues."

"Coming right up. I've got singles, bundles of four, and bundles of eight."

"Just four."

The older woman placed a bundle of dried-out beige sticks on the counter.

"And that's all I need!" Chrys chirped.

"Alright. Will you be using currency or-"

"Spirit Exchange," the younger witch pulled her crystal-trapped pet from beneath her collar.

Madam Jayne smiled. "Good, I was hoping you'd say that. No matter who you are, you could always use more Spirit."

Held in his mistress' hand, the little man watched, curious and afraid, as the older woman pulled up her robes to reveal a pair of pleasantly thick thighs sprouting from a pair of black silk panties. Around one was tied a ribbon of the same material as her underwear. She winked at the girls. "I'm a little paranoid about security. Plus, it gives me an excuse to show off to any nice gentlemen." Jayne moved a leg, causing the flesh to part with a slight jiggle. The little man's heart dropped as her fingers wrapped around a stark white crystal held against the ribbon by the bulging flesh, and pulled. She let her robes drop as she held the crystal out for Chrys to complete the transaction.

The pet found himself staring into the blinking eyes of a confused, frightened girl trapped within a prison much like his own. She put her hands against her crystal. Seeing someone in his position, so close up... he couldn't explain it. They didn't know each other, but they both understood. He'd have wagered that, like him, this was the only sympathetic contact she'd, well, for as long as she could remember.

Their crystalline cages started to glow in their respective colors. There was a brief moment where nothing happened. But, suddenly, the little man felt a strange force move through him. It felt as though a part of him had left, a piece of his very soul gone through some hole in his chest. He felt... emptier, and a bit tired.

"Thank you very much!" Madam Jayne said. "And happy Halloween!"

He was once again slipped beneath his mistress' collar, forced to watch as the little woman he'd felt such a connection to was yanked away and shoved back between the ribbon and Jayne's thigh, and then sealed inside as the two legs mashed together and the robe was dropped.

He leaned against the slick wall of his cell, trying to remain standing as his mistress and her friend continued their journey through the festival.



He tried to take a nap, but the crystal was essentially standing-room-only. He almost envied the man in Maggie's necklace. The redhead had used him once to buy some kind of ornate spoon, and the man appeared to pass out, slumped against wall of the cage in a pose not unlike he was kneeling. At this, Maggie had stuffed the necklace inside her dress as if to keep anyone from seeing.

In contrast, Chrys had been using her pet all evening. Here to buy an enchanted ring, there to buy a new spell tome, back over here to buy a set of earrings to match... every time the item was deposited in her bag, and every time the little man felt emptier and emptier, and more tired and tired. By the time she'd bought a lunch of smoked turkey legs for herself and Maggie, he too was kneeling at the bottom of his cell, head against the wall, more tired than he'd ever thought possible. But, he could not sleep. He was forced to endure in a state of near-delirium, crumpled at the bottom of the crystal, paradoxically oblivious to, yet painfully aware of his surroundings. And when the women had finished eating, he too was hidden from sight. Chrys removed him from her neck and tossed him nonchalantly into her bag, laughing as Maggie mimicked the peculiar way the Handlebar Mustache Man had talked.

Deep in the lightless, soundless void of the bag, the little man took what little refuge he could. He could not sleep, but this was near enough for him.

Every time the bag opened, bright light poured inside. He couldn't see anything else around him, but her hand reached in empty and came out grasping whatever she wanted. He had no idea how long he'd been inside. It felt like forever. But what little brainpower he had reasoned it hadn't been more than a few hours. Why would she leave her new items in the bag for what felt like weeks?

Finally, his time came. The giant hand of his mistress reached down and wrapped around his prison's wire. She pulled him into the blinding light like every other object. Squinting, he managed to force his eyes open enough to make out her face looking directly at him. Her makeup was gone, her hair uncombed. Evidently it was the next morning.

A layer of condensation formed on the outside of the crystal as she exhaled.

"You've done your job well enough," he heard her say. "I bought everything I needed and more." Her finger reached up and tapped on the surface of his cell. He watched droopy-eyed as it spread across the bottom of the crystal below him. "I deem your service to me fulfilled."

The bottom of his prison shattered, though he couldn't react. He plummeted right into her palm.

"May your next phase be just as productive. You are finished here."

"Chrys?" he heard the sleepy voice of Maggie float across the room.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." his mistress called. "I'm just getting rid of my vessel. Do you want me to do yours?"

With that, she let go. The little man made out the mouth of her trashcan as he fell, opened up like the gullet of an enormous crocodile ready to swallow him whole. Next thing he knew, he was on his back looking up, far beyond the rim. The world around him was pitch-black, the only thing visible was the rapidly diminishing light from above the top of the can. He saw the bright square get further and further away, far enough that it was only a pinprick before vanishing entirely.

He felt himself land on something. His tortured mind and body couldn't tell what. He could only lie there, unmoving and eyes closed. But, ever so slightly, he was regaining his strength. He knew he hadn't fallen asleep, but slowly his fatigue was being lifted.

Just as he was getting ready to open his eyes, he felt a rumble that he'd grown accustomed to: the rumble of something enormous getting closer.
Chapter End Notes:
Happy Halloween! Stay spooky, my friends!
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