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A story I've had sitting on my hard drive for a little too long.
Circumstances prevented me from finishing this one until recently. My most sincere apologies to
Corydonn for having to wait so long. You have the patience of a saint. I know everything nothing about Everquest, but hopefully that's alright.
Anyways, enjoy!
Corydonn the Iksar monk is Corydonn!
(Yes, they speaks like that.)
Corydonn walked the bustling streets of Freeport, shielding his eyes from the setting sun with his hand while he stared at the crowd ahead of him. His tired gaze turned away from them and to the other side of the road, hoping to distract himself with the evening scenery as his free hand rummaged through his pockets. He directed his glance to the sea and the numerous stone structures lining the walkway, noting how each one cast its own distinct shadow in the orange-red light. Before he could let his mind wander from its task, the Iksar’s blue eyes hesitated when his fingers found what they sought. Pulling it into the dimming light, he glanced at his scaly golden yellow hands as they unfolded the piece of paper. Then he read it to himself again, muttering each syllable under his breath. He pursed his lips together and cut himself off, shaking his head at the horrid chicken-scratch his note contained. In frustration he thrust the paper deep into the darkness of his pocket before putting a hand on his reptilian snout, sighing in irritation at his predicament.
The monk stopped in the middle of the busy walkway and touched his glasses. He let his eyes wander the smaller roads surrounding him, hoping at least one of them resembled the many vague descriptions his paper mentioned. But the mere thought of pressing forward made his tired legs and sore feet ache with protest, refusing to yield another inch to the lost lizard. Another reminder of the hours he wasted wandering the city, he thought. The port always seemed to reveal more of its sprawling roads and endless paths with every trip he made – a fact he would be more impressed with if it didn’t annoy him now.
“It’s got to be around here somewhere,” he said to himself, wincing with the pain in his heavy limbs as he forced himself to walk. He pressed on, ignoring the sea of people beneath him and their wide-eyed stares.
The humans and elves filling the road could scarcely reach the Iksar’s waist as he strode past them like the giant he was. His towering twelve foot frame was more at home on a menacing ogre than a humble reptile such as himself. Even his kind failed to meet him eye to eye; their looks of disbelief at best met his broad chest. He didn’t mind the gawking, or how they moved away from his approaching shadow and the falling feet that announced his presence, himself being more focused on navigating the city instead of them. He was used to it anyways. Along the way, he paused mid-step when a sign caught his attention: two tipping, frothy mugs of ale finely etched and painted into a wooden post.
His eyes lit up as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t drink, but hopefully I can get some directions here.” But as he approached the entrance to the tavern, he glanced to the doorway beneath him and drew a weary breath.
He stared at the narrow door, eyes falling to the opening that only came up to the middle of his stomach. The monk was more than comfortable with his size, but times like these made him wonder why he was blessed with such an impressive stature. Placing the tip of his foot against the bottom of the rotting door, Corydonn gave it a gentle tap, listening to it creak as it slowly swung open under his careful touch. He tensed up, steeling himself for what he knew would come next. He came this far. He was not about to leave without the information he needed.
Squatting as low as the Iksar could, he compressed his bulky frame. Hunched low, his head was now a foot above the top of the door when his leg took its first awkward step into the building. The rest of him attempted to follow, failing to squeeze itself through the ill-fitting threshold. Struggling to pull himself inside, the monk grunted and grit his teeth. His ears were ringing with the sound of old wood warping and cracking around him, his body tingling with the pull of splinters tugging at his shirt and scraping against his tough hide. Just as he managed to wedge his head through the door, the heady whiff of ale wafting through the air hit his sensitive nose, causing him to flinch at the stench. The thought of being stuck in the door, unable to taste the fresh air gave him the push he needed to force himself through with a terrible snap and a loud crash. A sudden silence filled the building as he dropped to one knee to catch his breath. Whether or not he wanted to see them, the eyes of the curious patrons were upon him.
Rising to his full height, Corydonn bumped his head against the low ceiling with a dull thud. He bent down and lowered his head as he picked at the slivers of wood caught in his clothing, trying to hide his embarrassment as best as he could. He didn’t want to see them or the looks on their faces. Or the gaping hole behind him. “W-What? Never seen an Iksar before?”
One by one, everyone looked away and resumed their drinking, losing interest in the brief distraction and the huge reptile looming above them. He meekly shuffled toward the bar, breathing a quiet sigh of relief before letting his eyes glance to his left and right at the small seats in front of him. Choosing to stand between them, the monk took in the sight of dirty, hard-working people mingling with one another, toasting to a day’s end and swapping stories while others drowned their sorrows in solitude away from others. The lively strum of a musician’s lute distracted him as he poked his snout, trying to shake the alcoholic odor clogging his nostrils, but he found himself frowning at the bard’s bawdy tale as it reached its climax. Looking away from the scene his head returned to the bar, where an older looking human came into view before him.
“Don’t often see your kind around here,” the man said with a hoarse voice, eyeing the Iksar before him.
Corydonn stared the old fellow, watching the bearded man as his deft, wrinkled hands quickly cleaned mug after mug with a tattered rag looking as haggard as the fingers holding it.
The monk adjusted his glasses. “If you have a problem with my appearance, I’ll leave.”
The human was taken aback, recoiling slightly as if he had been struck. “Didn’t mean it that way,” he replied, raising a hand defensively. “Just making an observation. Your gold is as good as anyone else’s here.” Setting another mug aside, he craned his head upward. “So what can I get you?”
“Directions,” the Iksar said. “I’m looking for someone in Freeport.” He pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the sticky countertop for the barkeep to see, pointing to it afterward. “That says they’re somewhere up in the northern part of town, but I can’t make out the rest.”
The old man snatched the paper away and held it close to his eyes before donning a pair of spectacles. And as he read it again, he balked at the horrid penmanship. Corydonn watched the human’s eyes dance from left to right, his mouth moving silently with the words he read to himself. When he finished, he tossed the paper back to the reptile and shook his head.
“Well, what’re you doing up here, then?” he said with a hint of agitation. “It said something about Temple Street. That’s south of here in the southern end of Freeport.”
“What?” The monk blinked and took the note with a stammer on his lips. “Then why does it say north?”
The barkeep shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they meant north Temple Street?” He gave the Iksar a dismissive wave and grabbed another mug. “Either way, you’re in the wrong place and taking up space from my customers. Get something or get going.”
Corydonn looked away, disappointment visible on his face. “Figures I’d end up in the wrong spot.”
With a drawn out sigh he jammed the note back into his pocket and moved away from the bar. Limbering back the way he came, his mind was filling with doubt, frustrated with a fruitless chase. Temple Street? Was he really that far off? Were his tired eyes and the sun just playing tricks on him? If he ever found his destination – and the person that wrote the letter for that matter – he would give them a piece of his—
Crunch. That was all he heard: the crunch of something small and soft beneath his dense foot. Then a high-pitched squeal of pain filled his ears and the tavern went silent again. Panicking, the Iksar looked down to see a small, female, rat-like creature hopping up and done on one paw, her little fingers clutching the other foot in their grip. Her brown furry face was twisted with agony.
Corydonn’s eyes went wide with shock as he knelt down to help the robed woman. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted before offering a hand. “I didn’t see you at all.”
The rodent smacked his huge hand aside and let her injured paw drop to the ground. Her face winced with pain and anger as she glared at the immense Iksar filling her view, her voice furious as she yelled at him. “You stupid oaf! Watches where you’re going!”
“M-My apologies, I wasn’t paying attention.” As he bowed his head, he had to mask the surprise that crossed his face as the rat’s petit body remained in his view. He knew of her race, the Ratonga, and how they were a vertically challenged species. They rarely reached the top of his knees, but this one seemed especially small for her kind – a mere two and a half feet tall by his quick estimate.
“That’s what you all say. ‘Sorry, shorty, wasn’t watchings where I was going!’” she snapped, her irate voice mocking his own. “Brutes like you should picks on people your size.”
He went silent for a moment, not knowing what could calm the irate Ratonga. “That wasn’t my intent and I—”
The rat huffed and cut him off. “Excuseses. Get out of my way.” Brushing him aside she stormed off, grumbling darkly under her breath, “You’re lucky I don’t feels like burning this place to cinders with you in it.”
Corydonn backed away from the scene, not wanting to embarrass himself any further as made his way to the giant hole he created earlier. Head hung low and without another word he squeezed himself through the door, thankful to find it easier to slip through a second time around. When he emerged outside he took in a deep breath, thankful to be out in the cool air again.
“That could have gone better,” he said to himself before patting the pocket containing his note. “But I’ve got a lead at least. Hopefully it’ll get me where I need to go this time.”
He returned to the road with directions in hand, keeping his pace slow to take in the twilight scenery at his leisure. His height gave him the advantage, allowing him to scan the road and landmarks ahead of him along the way to Temple Street, mindful of the people beneath him this time. He noticed the thinning crowd around him didn’t seem to mind him much. They didn’t point or stare at him like the others usually would. It was either the late hour or how the people in the southern half were, but they kept to themselves and he was grateful for it. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. Ever since he left the bar, he kept hearing the soft scampering of claw against stone, much lighter and faster than his own heavy, deliberate pace.
Night fell as Corydonn reached Temple Street. He turned around at times to look behind him, only to find himself alone, or other folk far off in the distance. Worry crossed the Iksar’s brow. His step quickened slightly when he entered the narrow, vacant passages of the southern district. But whenever he stopped to check his paper in the fading light, the noise became more frequent, causing him to jump and glance behind his back more often. Wherever he went, the sound followed and kept pace with his hurried stride, making him wonder who – or what – would have it out for him. He wouldn’t harm a fly if he could help it. The monk shook his head and broke into a sprint. Pondering wouldn’t help him now. He had to do something to get it off his tail.
Ducking into the nearest alley, he snuck through the twisting corridors, hoping they would help him lose his unseen follower. But the scratching and scampering followed close behind, keeping the Iksar on edge as he ran through the narrow maze until he met a wall around the corner. A dead end. Panicking, he turned around and his eyes widened. Before him, he finally saw his pursuer: a diminutive figure shrouded in robes, muttering something under its breath even his keen ears couldn’t catch. With only one option left, the huge reptile surged toward his stalker who simply stood there, unfazed by the sight of a charging twelve foot tall wall of reptilian muscle. Seconds before the two would collide, the figure suddenly raised its hands and unleashed a dazzling flash of light into Corydonn’s eyes, stunning him with a vivid display of color as he clutched his face in shock. Then he felt something else strike him in the head with a hard thunk that sent him falling into blackness.
The world around Corydonn spun as he groaned and slowly woke from his daze. His brain was on fire, spots were in his eyes as they opened to the darkness surrounding him; the same glittering lights he barely remembered seeing. It hurt his head trying to recall what happened – he remembered running from a small figure, and then a bright flash. His limbs felt like dense led, refusing to budge from the ground. His head, as much as it hurt him, was all he could move as he examined his unfamiliar location. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he noticed that he was in what looked like someone’s home. But the furniture seemed so small and so low to the ground. The stubby little legs of the chairs and tables barely seemed support the piles of heavy books stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Unable to see anything else of interest, his eyes retuned to where he lay. When looked down at himself, they went wide and the sound of rattling metal filled his ears. His body was bound in chain, the end of each length attached to the floor itself; his were arms fastened against his torso, his legs and tail from the knees down free to dangle about. As he tried to free himself there was a soft but sudden noise coming to life from the floor above him. The monk went still. He heard the soft patter of footsteps stirring, moving towards him. Then he heard a shrill laugh and a woman’s voice. Her words were soft, but dripping with venom.
“Stupid oaf,” she called out from the darkness.
The Iksar gasped and struggled against his bindings, trying to pull his body free from the chains that held him to the floor. His lungs began to burn with exertion as he thrashed in place. His chest became tighter and the rattling links drowned out his haggard breathing. His eyes glanced downward and he saw the metal stirring, twisting around his form like the coils of a serpent would its prey, squeezing the air from him. His vision began to blur from the lack of air before he finally relented, laying his head on the floor in defeat to take in what little air he could while his unseen captor squealed with delight at the spectacle.
“You like my chains? Don’t bothers trying to break them,” she said, her familiar voice growing louder as she approached. “They’re too strongs, even for you.”
He craned his neck to get a better glimpse of her while she came down the steps. Narrowing his eyes he saw her small silhouette move through the darkness, edging closer to the little table as she took a candle from it. A flash of light came and went as a small, flickering ember danced on the wick of the candle; her other hand was still burning, smoldering with a flame that never seared her fingers. When their eyes came into contact, the fire died, leaving only the dim light of the candle and the rat that held it as she set it on the table.
Corydonn stammered. “Y-You!”
The Ratonga flashed a cold smile as she took a seat in the chair next to her. “For a big dummy you were easy to catches,” she said as she crossed one leg over the other, carefully eyeing the monk that lay before her. “Too easy, really.”
“Release me at once!” the Iksar grunted, squirming as he tried to look at her. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Her brown eyes narrowed to two dangerous slits. “Your tiny brain can’t remembers what happened at the tavern?” she hissed.
“Of course you don’t remember. ‘What’ds I do? What’ds I do?’” She thrust her tiny hand outward, pointing an accusing finger his way, the anger in her tone rising as she spoke. “You remembers that? That’s all I ever hears from idiots like you, never watching where they looks, stepping on me and making excuseses all the times.”
She suddenly stood up and clutched the chair with one hand, dragging its heavy legs across the old wooden floor, raising her voice over the loud scraping behind her as she watched him writhe. “Do you even knows what it’s like being my size? Being picked ons by idiots like you?”
The Iksar gulped, watching her small and imposing form coming to a halt just inches away from his head. Her large eyes stared at him intensely in the flickering light as she sat back down. “We-Well,” he began, glancing away from the Ratonga. “You could say I’ve had some experience with th—” That was all he managed to get out before she thrust her paw against his scaly snout.
“Enough!” she growled. “You’re a terrible liar. You lie and says to me that you weren’t watchings where you were going, and now you lies to me and says you were my size. Comings from you, I find that hard to believe.”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, unable to move her tiny paw away from his mouth as he tried to speak. “I-If you’d only give me a chance to explain, I—”
The rat grit her teeth cut him off with another paw to his head. Her eyes watered. “Again you try to lies to me. You don’t knows what it’s like to be the runt of the litter, to be the shortestes of the short. You know nothing!”
Even in her flash of anger, she couldn’t help but smile wolfishly at the Iksar beneath her small paws. Her eyes wandered his form, examining the huge reptile laying chained to the floor of her home. And huge he was indeed. His head alone was easily as large as she was tall, capable of swallowing her whole if the brute had his way. And those feet. Those wretched things. They looked huge and heavy to her as she hopped out of her chair and carefully approached one. The Ratonga raised a hand and stood on the tips of her toes, barely able to wrap her fingers around one of Corydonn’s thick toes. She was lucky the oaf only just caught her foot. She returned to her seat and pressed her paws against his face again, the sheer difference in their size only dawned on her then. But there it was: a gigantic lizard brought down by the little runt. With magic, of course, but she wouldn’t let a detail like that stop her from gloating. Removing her toes from his head, the Ratonga stood up from her chair and made her way to the nearby dresser, picking up where she left off.
“But that’s all goings to change today. And it’s all goings to start with you.” The sound of her pulling at the pile of tomes echoed through the room before one of the heavier books fell to the ground with a thud. Dragging the huge, dusty leather-bound work behind her in her little hands, the mage grunted, “You’ll be the first to sees my power. Then everyone else will sees it, too. But you will have the honor of beings the first.”
Despite his plight, the Iksar couldn’t help but scoff. “What are you planning to do? Make yourself huge and step all over me and Freeport?”
The rat chuckled when she returned to his side, fingering through the brittle pages. “An amusing thought.” Moments later her clawed digits began to glow with arcane energy, lighting the dingy room and the gleeful grin on her face. “But I think it’s better to shows than tells, don’t you agree?”
Arcane energy danced across her digits and poured from her hands, striking the massive Iksar writhing beneath her, his scales tingling with the numbing sensation of the blow. Her lips twisted into a cruel smile as she took delight in watching the large reptile struggle, unable to stop her or fight back. It was more than satisfying to see that look of pain on his face – it was cathartic. After all the years of heckling she endured, the long years of torment under their careless feet, she finally had one of them in her grasp to toy with as she pleased. She had him where she wanted him now. All she had to do was wait.
The spell quickly faded from sight as she pulled her hands away and rest them on her hips. “I hopes you’re as sturdy as you look,” she said, letting each word drip from her lips as she leaned in close. “I want to make this last as longs as I can. Don’t disappoint me.”
Corydonn tossed his head side to side, unable to shrug off the weight of the paw she pressed against his snout. But the more he struggled, the more her little digits and soft pads set in, comfortably seating themselves upon his worried features. They felt heavier before, he thought to himself, his straining lessening as his strength faded from every limb. Then another paw fell upon his brow, blotting out dim candlelight as it rubbed itself against his eyes, her shrill laughter ringing in his ears louder than ever before. The chains that bound him began to glow, tingling his golden scales and flesh as they moved. The cold metal loosened around his body for only a moment before twisting and tightening around him all the harder, squeezing the air from his gut as it moved. More and more of her paws pressed and pounded against his face, drumming against his nose and forcing him to take in the earthy stench of her little toes. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead; from between her toes or from his own face he knew not. His mind was elsewhere, occupied with another pressing concern. How? How was she getting bigger? But as his movement lessened, she pulled a paw away from his eyes. Then the realization struck him.
The rat’s body stretched to the ceiling, towering over his own dwindling form. Her petit form climbed higher still, filling his eyes with an endless wall of fur and paw. Inches and feet shed from Corydonn’s body, his restraints kept pace with the effects of her spell; their task made all the easier with his lack of stamina. Her great shadow fell upon him as she leaned down and filled his widening eyes with the sight of her massive two and a half foot body. She lowered her hand and set it on the ground next to him, her features shifting to a wide grin as she watched the Iksar stare at the fingers that could easily engulf his inch-high self.
“I likes that look,” she said with a sneer. “It suits you. Perfect for what I haves in mind.” Her fingertips crept closer and tugged on his little tail. Her ears and whiskers twitched with the cry of discomfort he let out, her grin becoming all the more unsettling as her digits moved and pulled on his legs, wiggling his tiny feet before pressing down on his chest with greater force. “It’s an appropriates size for a ‘big’ bully like you.”
“Unhand me, Ratonga!” Corydonn cried out, shouting at the top of his lungs. “I haven’t done anything to you at all!”
She responded with another thrust of her finger against his tiny chest. “Still you try and lies to me.” The tip of her digit moved to the Iksar’s mouth, threatening to smother him with the vast width of her fingertip until she pulled it away, visibly working to keep her temper in check. “I’ll fix that. I’ll makes you sorry. I’ll makes you feel what I feel each and every day.”
The bound monk groaned and took in shallow breaths as he closed his eyes and collected himself, unaware of her looming shadow pulling itself away from him. But as he opened his eyes he caught a brief glimpse of her huge wiggling toes seconds before they fell, hurtling towards him faster than he could ever hope to react. But he couldn’t. Though every fiber of his being screamed at him, urging him to flee, he was still chained to the floor, forced to endure the blow. All he could do was brace himself. Her paw fell with a deafening smack against the floor, crushing Corydonn beneath the weight of her paw as a triumphant laugh sounded through the room.
“Oops, I guess I didn’t sees you down there.” The mage looked down, grinning as she wiggled her toes and grinded the sole of her paw against the reptile’s body. “Silly me, not lookings where I walk. I thought I stepped on somethings, but I guess it was just a stupid, worthless bug!” Her little digits, gargantuan in his eyes, kneaded his chest, grinding him between her paw and against the dusty wooden floor. He gasped for air, gagging at the dirt, dust and the overwhelming smell of her paw. She let up briefly to raise her foot into the air, only to stomp on him again and again as the rat continued her cathartic mocking, paws applying even more of her weight against his overtaxed frame with every step. Corydonn’s muscles flared with pain as he withstood her repeated assaults despite the agony it brought. The Ratonga took notice of his resilience and lessened her attack, placing the tip of her clawed toe against his throat, forcing him to look up at her.
“Cute. You thinks you can stand up to me.” His rough scales rubbed against her plump padded toe as the mage’s long, body-spanning digit applied more pressure to his neck. “I’ll admit you’re strongers than I gave you credit. I guess that means I can have fun with you now. You likes games, don’t you?” The Iksar gurgled a throaty groan in response, to which she added more of her mass. He winced and bared his fangs, struggling to resist the urge to bite her foot as she grinned. “I loves games.”
“Your squealing is music to my earses, lizard,” the rat whispered, her quiet voice becoming more animated as she felt him squirm beneath her toe. “I’ll bet the rest of you will feel just as goods down there.” Her breathing deepened. Her heavy digit slipped away from his throat and touched his stomach. “You’re just the first, the first of many that will shares your fate. I want everyone to feel the pain you made me feel today. The humiliation I feel every day!”
The monk panted as the chains coiled around him, growing ever tighter while her paw pressed down hard against his body, both intent on one goal as her unhinged tirade rung in his ears. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind couldn’t help but feel sorry for the short Ratonga. How long she must have had to up with everyone picking on her because of her height. She had a point, perhaps, despite her raving. Maybe he could escape his fate yet.
“Please, listen to me!” Corydonn screamed, causing the Ratonga’s ears to twitch at the sound of his grating voice. Her paw let up for a moment before she chuckled, eager to hear more his pitiful whining.
“Beggings for mercy, hm?” The mage’s tongue touched her lips as she felt his feeble little form buckling beneath her toes, making her all the more anxious to snuff him out. She resisted the urge and indulged him. “I suppose I’ll listen. Make it good.”
Corydonn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He spoke slowly, knowing the consequences of failure. “I’m sorry,” he began, licking his lips. “I-I know you won’t care for my excuses, but we big oafs have been cruel to you.” She went quiet and kept her eyes on him, watching him all the more carefully. “You’re important. Not just Ratonga, but you. We should’ve appreciated you, but we just brushed you aside as if you weren’t—”
The rat cut him off, seeing through his lie. “Stop trying to butter me up. You’ve lied to me so many timeses. Why should I believes you now? You’re all the same; beggings and pleadings for your miserable lives when things go bad.” Suddenly, she paused for a moment before a fiendish look crept across her face. “But if you really mean it, show me how much you appreciates me.”
“Why must they always do this?” Corydonn muttered under his breath before he raised his voice to answer her. “A-Alright. But I can’t appreciate you when I’m stuck like this. I won’t run, I swear it.”
She held her paw on top of his body, thinking for a moment before finally offering a wordless gesture. The chains around the Iksar’s body loosened and fell away from him, dissolving and disappearing in a puff of smoke. Too weak to move, he tried and failed to stand, falling to the ground on his knees while the mage looked on, smiling inwardly at his submissive posture.
“I’ll be watching you carefully, runt,” she warned, lowering her voice as she raised a paw into the air. “One wrongs move, one wrongs anything…” The Ratonga ended her sentence, slamming her foot against the dusty floor, throwing up a cloud of dirt around it. The mage raised her heel and twisted her foot side to side, adding extra emphasis to her point. “I think you’re clear on what will happens to you. Don’t make me wait.”
Corydonn carefully approached the rat’s furry paw, touching the coarse brown fur of her little toes. They weren’t so little now. Each of those powerful digits were longer than he was tall. They rose over him like rolling, fuzzy hills, the deep crevasses of her toes low, sloping valleys that could trap him between two fleshy walls of dirt-stained fur if he failed to please her. He wasn't sure where to begin, but her cold glare was enough to make him move. The inch-high Iksar placed his hands on the side of her outermost toe, squeezing at the firm flesh beneath her fur as he began to work on kneading each digit one at a time. His dexterous fingers moved quickly despite his small size, touching and groping her digits while she sat far above him, her long whiskers twitching with disapproval.
"Maybe I made you too smalls," she said, lowering her voice as she pulled the paw away from him. The other one closed in from behind, staying in place for a moment before they flew together and slammed into Corydonn with a thick smack. "Or maybe you don't understands the price of failure."
He squirmed between the Ratonga's paws, unable to free his limbs from their powerful hold. His snout was firmly planted against one of her pads as it knocked the air from his burning lungs, forcing him to take in the foul stench of her feet. Her soles slid back and forth, grinding against his little body as she watched from high above, tilting her head to the side as she looked on.
"That's more like it," the rat said, chuckling as she applied pressure to his body while she squeezed her toes together, smothering him within her paws. "Last chance to shows me what you can do."
Clenching her toes together, the mage buried Corydonn beneath the weight of her petite digits, shoving him deeper and deeper between her warm and soft pads. Pursing her lips together, the female rat paused, feeling the odd but soothing contrast of his rough scales against her furry feet. "I didn't think it'd feels so nice, though," she muttered to herself.
Each of her wiggling toes thumped, pressed and squeezed against one another, the tips of her clawed feet scraped against the floor, clicking when they briefly touched together. She slowed her movements to a subdued pace, pressing the folds and creases of her pads against his trapped body, mashing his snout between her sensitive toes. The wiggling of her feet were strong despite their small size, forcing his reptilian tongue from his reluctant mouth. It slipped against her toes, lapping at the sides of her digits, causing the Ratonga to shudder with delight.
"I didn't think you were into this kind of things," she remarked, mashing her toes into Corydonn's snout. "Neithers am I, but you're making me change my mind."
The Ratonga moved her dexterous toes about, wedging his wet snout between another set of digits, forcing his mouth to give them the same generous treatment. Corydonn blushed, gagging as his tongue thrashed about, licking up the revolting taste of the dirt and grime caked between her filthy toes. But the rat wouldn't let up as she leaned back in her chair. A squeak of delight passed her quivering lips as her paws continued to knead and smother the trapped Iksar, her eyes rolling upwards as her little fingers tugged at her robes.
"That feelses so good," she blissfully exhaled, keeping her little paws firmly pressed against his small form as she turned him around, forcing the monk to work on her other foot. "Makes me wants to keep you; maybe make you my pet. You'd likes that, wouldn't you, dummy?"
The softness of her little pads mashing against his tiny head muffled what little she could have heard. Sliding her paw away from his face, she flipped the Iksar onto his back with her toes, kneading his body with a surprising amount of affection. “You’ll learns to love it,” she said, squeezing him between her middle toes, trapping him yet again between her plump digits. “What do you says to that, pet?”
The monk blushed all the harder when she said those words. The weight of her toes pressed against his scaly lips, prying them open as they touched her furry body with an awkward kiss. Pulling him away from her paws, the mage reached down and took Corydonn in her hands, lifting him into the air close to her face to await his response.
“Well, I—” The Iksar stammered and stared straight into her huge brown eyes. “I-If you allow it, does that mean I can leave once in a while? I’ll always come back to you, I promise.”
The Ratonga shut her eyes and laughed, nearly dropping him from her hand before composing herself. “And let you leave, just likes that? Why would I want that?” She rose from her chair and planted her paws on the ground, making her way toward the other end of the room as she stared at the lizard in her grasp.
“I hate to admit it, but you managed to teaches me something today: tiny dummies like you makes for useful pets.” A devious grin formed on her lips as she turned her attention to the huge tome she left on the floor, eyes widening with glee as she continued. “If one’s just as good as you, then why stops there? I’ll find more and make them smalls too. Then they’ll join you one by one.” The mage could barely contain her growing excitement when she clawed at the side of her heavy spell book, all too eager to begin. “But don’t worry. I have a special place, just for you.”
Suddenly she lowered her hand, directing his worried gaze towards the bottomless pit that was her neglected right boot. “Only you will have permissions to go there,” she said before planting a quick kiss against the back of his helpless body. “Touch them whenever you wants. The rest will have to work hard to gain my favor.”
Before Corydonn could protest, her fingers loosened their grip on the Iksar and let him plummet through the air, falling toward the gaping maw of the Ratonga’s footwear. Darkness swallowed the monk as his chest hit the heel of her old boot, knocking him deeper and deeper into the void of her vast, cavernous hole. Landing with a damp thud at the bottom of her boot, the monk’s head grew dizzy, his sensitive nostrils and senses bombarded by sweat and the repulsive stench emanating around him.
“Countless dummies serving me,” the rat beamed, sighing with delight as her paw shoved itself deep into her boot, blotting out what little light was left for him as it crept closer and closer to his fallen body. “Those disloyals to me I can just crush. Yes, crunch them and make them an example for the otherses.” She wriggled her sweaty digits against the bottom of her padded boot sliding it back and forth over Corydonn, adjusting the footing of her toes as they clenched the poor reptile in their vicelike grip, trapping between her dirty footwear and the digits her heavy little paw. Looking out the window to the moon over Freeport, the Ratonga cackled and pressed her foot down on the Iksar as she took her first few steps toward the front door, applying the bulk of her weight against him with every slow, deliberate and agonizing step. “I wonders when that monk will get here. I should shrinks the oaf for making me wait so long.”
Circumstances prevented me from finishing this one until recently. My most sincere apologies to
Corydonn for having to wait so long. You have the patience of a saint. I know Anyways, enjoy!
Corydonn the Iksar monk is
Corydonn!(Yes, they speaks like that.)
Corydonn walked the bustling streets of Freeport, shielding his eyes from the setting sun with his hand while he stared at the crowd ahead of him. His tired gaze turned away from them and to the other side of the road, hoping to distract himself with the evening scenery as his free hand rummaged through his pockets. He directed his glance to the sea and the numerous stone structures lining the walkway, noting how each one cast its own distinct shadow in the orange-red light. Before he could let his mind wander from its task, the Iksar’s blue eyes hesitated when his fingers found what they sought. Pulling it into the dimming light, he glanced at his scaly golden yellow hands as they unfolded the piece of paper. Then he read it to himself again, muttering each syllable under his breath. He pursed his lips together and cut himself off, shaking his head at the horrid chicken-scratch his note contained. In frustration he thrust the paper deep into the darkness of his pocket before putting a hand on his reptilian snout, sighing in irritation at his predicament.
The monk stopped in the middle of the busy walkway and touched his glasses. He let his eyes wander the smaller roads surrounding him, hoping at least one of them resembled the many vague descriptions his paper mentioned. But the mere thought of pressing forward made his tired legs and sore feet ache with protest, refusing to yield another inch to the lost lizard. Another reminder of the hours he wasted wandering the city, he thought. The port always seemed to reveal more of its sprawling roads and endless paths with every trip he made – a fact he would be more impressed with if it didn’t annoy him now.
“It’s got to be around here somewhere,” he said to himself, wincing with the pain in his heavy limbs as he forced himself to walk. He pressed on, ignoring the sea of people beneath him and their wide-eyed stares.
The humans and elves filling the road could scarcely reach the Iksar’s waist as he strode past them like the giant he was. His towering twelve foot frame was more at home on a menacing ogre than a humble reptile such as himself. Even his kind failed to meet him eye to eye; their looks of disbelief at best met his broad chest. He didn’t mind the gawking, or how they moved away from his approaching shadow and the falling feet that announced his presence, himself being more focused on navigating the city instead of them. He was used to it anyways. Along the way, he paused mid-step when a sign caught his attention: two tipping, frothy mugs of ale finely etched and painted into a wooden post.
His eyes lit up as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t drink, but hopefully I can get some directions here.” But as he approached the entrance to the tavern, he glanced to the doorway beneath him and drew a weary breath.
He stared at the narrow door, eyes falling to the opening that only came up to the middle of his stomach. The monk was more than comfortable with his size, but times like these made him wonder why he was blessed with such an impressive stature. Placing the tip of his foot against the bottom of the rotting door, Corydonn gave it a gentle tap, listening to it creak as it slowly swung open under his careful touch. He tensed up, steeling himself for what he knew would come next. He came this far. He was not about to leave without the information he needed.
Squatting as low as the Iksar could, he compressed his bulky frame. Hunched low, his head was now a foot above the top of the door when his leg took its first awkward step into the building. The rest of him attempted to follow, failing to squeeze itself through the ill-fitting threshold. Struggling to pull himself inside, the monk grunted and grit his teeth. His ears were ringing with the sound of old wood warping and cracking around him, his body tingling with the pull of splinters tugging at his shirt and scraping against his tough hide. Just as he managed to wedge his head through the door, the heady whiff of ale wafting through the air hit his sensitive nose, causing him to flinch at the stench. The thought of being stuck in the door, unable to taste the fresh air gave him the push he needed to force himself through with a terrible snap and a loud crash. A sudden silence filled the building as he dropped to one knee to catch his breath. Whether or not he wanted to see them, the eyes of the curious patrons were upon him.
Rising to his full height, Corydonn bumped his head against the low ceiling with a dull thud. He bent down and lowered his head as he picked at the slivers of wood caught in his clothing, trying to hide his embarrassment as best as he could. He didn’t want to see them or the looks on their faces. Or the gaping hole behind him. “W-What? Never seen an Iksar before?”
One by one, everyone looked away and resumed their drinking, losing interest in the brief distraction and the huge reptile looming above them. He meekly shuffled toward the bar, breathing a quiet sigh of relief before letting his eyes glance to his left and right at the small seats in front of him. Choosing to stand between them, the monk took in the sight of dirty, hard-working people mingling with one another, toasting to a day’s end and swapping stories while others drowned their sorrows in solitude away from others. The lively strum of a musician’s lute distracted him as he poked his snout, trying to shake the alcoholic odor clogging his nostrils, but he found himself frowning at the bard’s bawdy tale as it reached its climax. Looking away from the scene his head returned to the bar, where an older looking human came into view before him.
“Don’t often see your kind around here,” the man said with a hoarse voice, eyeing the Iksar before him.
Corydonn stared the old fellow, watching the bearded man as his deft, wrinkled hands quickly cleaned mug after mug with a tattered rag looking as haggard as the fingers holding it.
The monk adjusted his glasses. “If you have a problem with my appearance, I’ll leave.”
The human was taken aback, recoiling slightly as if he had been struck. “Didn’t mean it that way,” he replied, raising a hand defensively. “Just making an observation. Your gold is as good as anyone else’s here.” Setting another mug aside, he craned his head upward. “So what can I get you?”
“Directions,” the Iksar said. “I’m looking for someone in Freeport.” He pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the sticky countertop for the barkeep to see, pointing to it afterward. “That says they’re somewhere up in the northern part of town, but I can’t make out the rest.”
The old man snatched the paper away and held it close to his eyes before donning a pair of spectacles. And as he read it again, he balked at the horrid penmanship. Corydonn watched the human’s eyes dance from left to right, his mouth moving silently with the words he read to himself. When he finished, he tossed the paper back to the reptile and shook his head.
“Well, what’re you doing up here, then?” he said with a hint of agitation. “It said something about Temple Street. That’s south of here in the southern end of Freeport.”
“What?” The monk blinked and took the note with a stammer on his lips. “Then why does it say north?”
The barkeep shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they meant north Temple Street?” He gave the Iksar a dismissive wave and grabbed another mug. “Either way, you’re in the wrong place and taking up space from my customers. Get something or get going.”
Corydonn looked away, disappointment visible on his face. “Figures I’d end up in the wrong spot.”
With a drawn out sigh he jammed the note back into his pocket and moved away from the bar. Limbering back the way he came, his mind was filling with doubt, frustrated with a fruitless chase. Temple Street? Was he really that far off? Were his tired eyes and the sun just playing tricks on him? If he ever found his destination – and the person that wrote the letter for that matter – he would give them a piece of his—
Crunch. That was all he heard: the crunch of something small and soft beneath his dense foot. Then a high-pitched squeal of pain filled his ears and the tavern went silent again. Panicking, the Iksar looked down to see a small, female, rat-like creature hopping up and done on one paw, her little fingers clutching the other foot in their grip. Her brown furry face was twisted with agony.
Corydonn’s eyes went wide with shock as he knelt down to help the robed woman. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted before offering a hand. “I didn’t see you at all.”
The rodent smacked his huge hand aside and let her injured paw drop to the ground. Her face winced with pain and anger as she glared at the immense Iksar filling her view, her voice furious as she yelled at him. “You stupid oaf! Watches where you’re going!”
“M-My apologies, I wasn’t paying attention.” As he bowed his head, he had to mask the surprise that crossed his face as the rat’s petit body remained in his view. He knew of her race, the Ratonga, and how they were a vertically challenged species. They rarely reached the top of his knees, but this one seemed especially small for her kind – a mere two and a half feet tall by his quick estimate.
“That’s what you all say. ‘Sorry, shorty, wasn’t watchings where I was going!’” she snapped, her irate voice mocking his own. “Brutes like you should picks on people your size.”
He went silent for a moment, not knowing what could calm the irate Ratonga. “That wasn’t my intent and I—”
The rat huffed and cut him off. “Excuseses. Get out of my way.” Brushing him aside she stormed off, grumbling darkly under her breath, “You’re lucky I don’t feels like burning this place to cinders with you in it.”
Corydonn backed away from the scene, not wanting to embarrass himself any further as made his way to the giant hole he created earlier. Head hung low and without another word he squeezed himself through the door, thankful to find it easier to slip through a second time around. When he emerged outside he took in a deep breath, thankful to be out in the cool air again.
“That could have gone better,” he said to himself before patting the pocket containing his note. “But I’ve got a lead at least. Hopefully it’ll get me where I need to go this time.”
He returned to the road with directions in hand, keeping his pace slow to take in the twilight scenery at his leisure. His height gave him the advantage, allowing him to scan the road and landmarks ahead of him along the way to Temple Street, mindful of the people beneath him this time. He noticed the thinning crowd around him didn’t seem to mind him much. They didn’t point or stare at him like the others usually would. It was either the late hour or how the people in the southern half were, but they kept to themselves and he was grateful for it. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. Ever since he left the bar, he kept hearing the soft scampering of claw against stone, much lighter and faster than his own heavy, deliberate pace.
Night fell as Corydonn reached Temple Street. He turned around at times to look behind him, only to find himself alone, or other folk far off in the distance. Worry crossed the Iksar’s brow. His step quickened slightly when he entered the narrow, vacant passages of the southern district. But whenever he stopped to check his paper in the fading light, the noise became more frequent, causing him to jump and glance behind his back more often. Wherever he went, the sound followed and kept pace with his hurried stride, making him wonder who – or what – would have it out for him. He wouldn’t harm a fly if he could help it. The monk shook his head and broke into a sprint. Pondering wouldn’t help him now. He had to do something to get it off his tail.
Ducking into the nearest alley, he snuck through the twisting corridors, hoping they would help him lose his unseen follower. But the scratching and scampering followed close behind, keeping the Iksar on edge as he ran through the narrow maze until he met a wall around the corner. A dead end. Panicking, he turned around and his eyes widened. Before him, he finally saw his pursuer: a diminutive figure shrouded in robes, muttering something under its breath even his keen ears couldn’t catch. With only one option left, the huge reptile surged toward his stalker who simply stood there, unfazed by the sight of a charging twelve foot tall wall of reptilian muscle. Seconds before the two would collide, the figure suddenly raised its hands and unleashed a dazzling flash of light into Corydonn’s eyes, stunning him with a vivid display of color as he clutched his face in shock. Then he felt something else strike him in the head with a hard thunk that sent him falling into blackness.
The world around Corydonn spun as he groaned and slowly woke from his daze. His brain was on fire, spots were in his eyes as they opened to the darkness surrounding him; the same glittering lights he barely remembered seeing. It hurt his head trying to recall what happened – he remembered running from a small figure, and then a bright flash. His limbs felt like dense led, refusing to budge from the ground. His head, as much as it hurt him, was all he could move as he examined his unfamiliar location. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he noticed that he was in what looked like someone’s home. But the furniture seemed so small and so low to the ground. The stubby little legs of the chairs and tables barely seemed support the piles of heavy books stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Unable to see anything else of interest, his eyes retuned to where he lay. When looked down at himself, they went wide and the sound of rattling metal filled his ears. His body was bound in chain, the end of each length attached to the floor itself; his were arms fastened against his torso, his legs and tail from the knees down free to dangle about. As he tried to free himself there was a soft but sudden noise coming to life from the floor above him. The monk went still. He heard the soft patter of footsteps stirring, moving towards him. Then he heard a shrill laugh and a woman’s voice. Her words were soft, but dripping with venom.
“Stupid oaf,” she called out from the darkness.
The Iksar gasped and struggled against his bindings, trying to pull his body free from the chains that held him to the floor. His lungs began to burn with exertion as he thrashed in place. His chest became tighter and the rattling links drowned out his haggard breathing. His eyes glanced downward and he saw the metal stirring, twisting around his form like the coils of a serpent would its prey, squeezing the air from him. His vision began to blur from the lack of air before he finally relented, laying his head on the floor in defeat to take in what little air he could while his unseen captor squealed with delight at the spectacle.
“You like my chains? Don’t bothers trying to break them,” she said, her familiar voice growing louder as she approached. “They’re too strongs, even for you.”
He craned his neck to get a better glimpse of her while she came down the steps. Narrowing his eyes he saw her small silhouette move through the darkness, edging closer to the little table as she took a candle from it. A flash of light came and went as a small, flickering ember danced on the wick of the candle; her other hand was still burning, smoldering with a flame that never seared her fingers. When their eyes came into contact, the fire died, leaving only the dim light of the candle and the rat that held it as she set it on the table.
Corydonn stammered. “Y-You!”
The Ratonga flashed a cold smile as she took a seat in the chair next to her. “For a big dummy you were easy to catches,” she said as she crossed one leg over the other, carefully eyeing the monk that lay before her. “Too easy, really.”
“Release me at once!” the Iksar grunted, squirming as he tried to look at her. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Her brown eyes narrowed to two dangerous slits. “Your tiny brain can’t remembers what happened at the tavern?” she hissed.
“Of course you don’t remember. ‘What’ds I do? What’ds I do?’” She thrust her tiny hand outward, pointing an accusing finger his way, the anger in her tone rising as she spoke. “You remembers that? That’s all I ever hears from idiots like you, never watching where they looks, stepping on me and making excuseses all the times.”
She suddenly stood up and clutched the chair with one hand, dragging its heavy legs across the old wooden floor, raising her voice over the loud scraping behind her as she watched him writhe. “Do you even knows what it’s like being my size? Being picked ons by idiots like you?”
The Iksar gulped, watching her small and imposing form coming to a halt just inches away from his head. Her large eyes stared at him intensely in the flickering light as she sat back down. “We-Well,” he began, glancing away from the Ratonga. “You could say I’ve had some experience with th—” That was all he managed to get out before she thrust her paw against his scaly snout.
“Enough!” she growled. “You’re a terrible liar. You lie and says to me that you weren’t watchings where you were going, and now you lies to me and says you were my size. Comings from you, I find that hard to believe.”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, unable to move her tiny paw away from his mouth as he tried to speak. “I-If you’d only give me a chance to explain, I—”
The rat grit her teeth cut him off with another paw to his head. Her eyes watered. “Again you try to lies to me. You don’t knows what it’s like to be the runt of the litter, to be the shortestes of the short. You know nothing!”
Even in her flash of anger, she couldn’t help but smile wolfishly at the Iksar beneath her small paws. Her eyes wandered his form, examining the huge reptile laying chained to the floor of her home. And huge he was indeed. His head alone was easily as large as she was tall, capable of swallowing her whole if the brute had his way. And those feet. Those wretched things. They looked huge and heavy to her as she hopped out of her chair and carefully approached one. The Ratonga raised a hand and stood on the tips of her toes, barely able to wrap her fingers around one of Corydonn’s thick toes. She was lucky the oaf only just caught her foot. She returned to her seat and pressed her paws against his face again, the sheer difference in their size only dawned on her then. But there it was: a gigantic lizard brought down by the little runt. With magic, of course, but she wouldn’t let a detail like that stop her from gloating. Removing her toes from his head, the Ratonga stood up from her chair and made her way to the nearby dresser, picking up where she left off.
“But that’s all goings to change today. And it’s all goings to start with you.” The sound of her pulling at the pile of tomes echoed through the room before one of the heavier books fell to the ground with a thud. Dragging the huge, dusty leather-bound work behind her in her little hands, the mage grunted, “You’ll be the first to sees my power. Then everyone else will sees it, too. But you will have the honor of beings the first.”
Despite his plight, the Iksar couldn’t help but scoff. “What are you planning to do? Make yourself huge and step all over me and Freeport?”
The rat chuckled when she returned to his side, fingering through the brittle pages. “An amusing thought.” Moments later her clawed digits began to glow with arcane energy, lighting the dingy room and the gleeful grin on her face. “But I think it’s better to shows than tells, don’t you agree?”
Arcane energy danced across her digits and poured from her hands, striking the massive Iksar writhing beneath her, his scales tingling with the numbing sensation of the blow. Her lips twisted into a cruel smile as she took delight in watching the large reptile struggle, unable to stop her or fight back. It was more than satisfying to see that look of pain on his face – it was cathartic. After all the years of heckling she endured, the long years of torment under their careless feet, she finally had one of them in her grasp to toy with as she pleased. She had him where she wanted him now. All she had to do was wait.
The spell quickly faded from sight as she pulled her hands away and rest them on her hips. “I hopes you’re as sturdy as you look,” she said, letting each word drip from her lips as she leaned in close. “I want to make this last as longs as I can. Don’t disappoint me.”
Corydonn tossed his head side to side, unable to shrug off the weight of the paw she pressed against his snout. But the more he struggled, the more her little digits and soft pads set in, comfortably seating themselves upon his worried features. They felt heavier before, he thought to himself, his straining lessening as his strength faded from every limb. Then another paw fell upon his brow, blotting out dim candlelight as it rubbed itself against his eyes, her shrill laughter ringing in his ears louder than ever before. The chains that bound him began to glow, tingling his golden scales and flesh as they moved. The cold metal loosened around his body for only a moment before twisting and tightening around him all the harder, squeezing the air from his gut as it moved. More and more of her paws pressed and pounded against his face, drumming against his nose and forcing him to take in the earthy stench of her little toes. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead; from between her toes or from his own face he knew not. His mind was elsewhere, occupied with another pressing concern. How? How was she getting bigger? But as his movement lessened, she pulled a paw away from his eyes. Then the realization struck him.
The rat’s body stretched to the ceiling, towering over his own dwindling form. Her petit form climbed higher still, filling his eyes with an endless wall of fur and paw. Inches and feet shed from Corydonn’s body, his restraints kept pace with the effects of her spell; their task made all the easier with his lack of stamina. Her great shadow fell upon him as she leaned down and filled his widening eyes with the sight of her massive two and a half foot body. She lowered her hand and set it on the ground next to him, her features shifting to a wide grin as she watched the Iksar stare at the fingers that could easily engulf his inch-high self.
“I likes that look,” she said with a sneer. “It suits you. Perfect for what I haves in mind.” Her fingertips crept closer and tugged on his little tail. Her ears and whiskers twitched with the cry of discomfort he let out, her grin becoming all the more unsettling as her digits moved and pulled on his legs, wiggling his tiny feet before pressing down on his chest with greater force. “It’s an appropriates size for a ‘big’ bully like you.”
“Unhand me, Ratonga!” Corydonn cried out, shouting at the top of his lungs. “I haven’t done anything to you at all!”
She responded with another thrust of her finger against his tiny chest. “Still you try and lies to me.” The tip of her digit moved to the Iksar’s mouth, threatening to smother him with the vast width of her fingertip until she pulled it away, visibly working to keep her temper in check. “I’ll fix that. I’ll makes you sorry. I’ll makes you feel what I feel each and every day.”
The bound monk groaned and took in shallow breaths as he closed his eyes and collected himself, unaware of her looming shadow pulling itself away from him. But as he opened his eyes he caught a brief glimpse of her huge wiggling toes seconds before they fell, hurtling towards him faster than he could ever hope to react. But he couldn’t. Though every fiber of his being screamed at him, urging him to flee, he was still chained to the floor, forced to endure the blow. All he could do was brace himself. Her paw fell with a deafening smack against the floor, crushing Corydonn beneath the weight of her paw as a triumphant laugh sounded through the room.
“Oops, I guess I didn’t sees you down there.” The mage looked down, grinning as she wiggled her toes and grinded the sole of her paw against the reptile’s body. “Silly me, not lookings where I walk. I thought I stepped on somethings, but I guess it was just a stupid, worthless bug!” Her little digits, gargantuan in his eyes, kneaded his chest, grinding him between her paw and against the dusty wooden floor. He gasped for air, gagging at the dirt, dust and the overwhelming smell of her paw. She let up briefly to raise her foot into the air, only to stomp on him again and again as the rat continued her cathartic mocking, paws applying even more of her weight against his overtaxed frame with every step. Corydonn’s muscles flared with pain as he withstood her repeated assaults despite the agony it brought. The Ratonga took notice of his resilience and lessened her attack, placing the tip of her clawed toe against his throat, forcing him to look up at her.
“Cute. You thinks you can stand up to me.” His rough scales rubbed against her plump padded toe as the mage’s long, body-spanning digit applied more pressure to his neck. “I’ll admit you’re strongers than I gave you credit. I guess that means I can have fun with you now. You likes games, don’t you?” The Iksar gurgled a throaty groan in response, to which she added more of her mass. He winced and bared his fangs, struggling to resist the urge to bite her foot as she grinned. “I loves games.”
“Your squealing is music to my earses, lizard,” the rat whispered, her quiet voice becoming more animated as she felt him squirm beneath her toe. “I’ll bet the rest of you will feel just as goods down there.” Her breathing deepened. Her heavy digit slipped away from his throat and touched his stomach. “You’re just the first, the first of many that will shares your fate. I want everyone to feel the pain you made me feel today. The humiliation I feel every day!”
The monk panted as the chains coiled around him, growing ever tighter while her paw pressed down hard against his body, both intent on one goal as her unhinged tirade rung in his ears. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind couldn’t help but feel sorry for the short Ratonga. How long she must have had to up with everyone picking on her because of her height. She had a point, perhaps, despite her raving. Maybe he could escape his fate yet.
“Please, listen to me!” Corydonn screamed, causing the Ratonga’s ears to twitch at the sound of his grating voice. Her paw let up for a moment before she chuckled, eager to hear more his pitiful whining.
“Beggings for mercy, hm?” The mage’s tongue touched her lips as she felt his feeble little form buckling beneath her toes, making her all the more anxious to snuff him out. She resisted the urge and indulged him. “I suppose I’ll listen. Make it good.”
Corydonn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He spoke slowly, knowing the consequences of failure. “I’m sorry,” he began, licking his lips. “I-I know you won’t care for my excuses, but we big oafs have been cruel to you.” She went quiet and kept her eyes on him, watching him all the more carefully. “You’re important. Not just Ratonga, but you. We should’ve appreciated you, but we just brushed you aside as if you weren’t—”
The rat cut him off, seeing through his lie. “Stop trying to butter me up. You’ve lied to me so many timeses. Why should I believes you now? You’re all the same; beggings and pleadings for your miserable lives when things go bad.” Suddenly, she paused for a moment before a fiendish look crept across her face. “But if you really mean it, show me how much you appreciates me.”
“Why must they always do this?” Corydonn muttered under his breath before he raised his voice to answer her. “A-Alright. But I can’t appreciate you when I’m stuck like this. I won’t run, I swear it.”
She held her paw on top of his body, thinking for a moment before finally offering a wordless gesture. The chains around the Iksar’s body loosened and fell away from him, dissolving and disappearing in a puff of smoke. Too weak to move, he tried and failed to stand, falling to the ground on his knees while the mage looked on, smiling inwardly at his submissive posture.
“I’ll be watching you carefully, runt,” she warned, lowering her voice as she raised a paw into the air. “One wrongs move, one wrongs anything…” The Ratonga ended her sentence, slamming her foot against the dusty floor, throwing up a cloud of dirt around it. The mage raised her heel and twisted her foot side to side, adding extra emphasis to her point. “I think you’re clear on what will happens to you. Don’t make me wait.”
Corydonn carefully approached the rat’s furry paw, touching the coarse brown fur of her little toes. They weren’t so little now. Each of those powerful digits were longer than he was tall. They rose over him like rolling, fuzzy hills, the deep crevasses of her toes low, sloping valleys that could trap him between two fleshy walls of dirt-stained fur if he failed to please her. He wasn't sure where to begin, but her cold glare was enough to make him move. The inch-high Iksar placed his hands on the side of her outermost toe, squeezing at the firm flesh beneath her fur as he began to work on kneading each digit one at a time. His dexterous fingers moved quickly despite his small size, touching and groping her digits while she sat far above him, her long whiskers twitching with disapproval.
"Maybe I made you too smalls," she said, lowering her voice as she pulled the paw away from him. The other one closed in from behind, staying in place for a moment before they flew together and slammed into Corydonn with a thick smack. "Or maybe you don't understands the price of failure."
He squirmed between the Ratonga's paws, unable to free his limbs from their powerful hold. His snout was firmly planted against one of her pads as it knocked the air from his burning lungs, forcing him to take in the foul stench of her feet. Her soles slid back and forth, grinding against his little body as she watched from high above, tilting her head to the side as she looked on.
"That's more like it," the rat said, chuckling as she applied pressure to his body while she squeezed her toes together, smothering him within her paws. "Last chance to shows me what you can do."
Clenching her toes together, the mage buried Corydonn beneath the weight of her petite digits, shoving him deeper and deeper between her warm and soft pads. Pursing her lips together, the female rat paused, feeling the odd but soothing contrast of his rough scales against her furry feet. "I didn't think it'd feels so nice, though," she muttered to herself.
Each of her wiggling toes thumped, pressed and squeezed against one another, the tips of her clawed feet scraped against the floor, clicking when they briefly touched together. She slowed her movements to a subdued pace, pressing the folds and creases of her pads against his trapped body, mashing his snout between her sensitive toes. The wiggling of her feet were strong despite their small size, forcing his reptilian tongue from his reluctant mouth. It slipped against her toes, lapping at the sides of her digits, causing the Ratonga to shudder with delight.
"I didn't think you were into this kind of things," she remarked, mashing her toes into Corydonn's snout. "Neithers am I, but you're making me change my mind."
The Ratonga moved her dexterous toes about, wedging his wet snout between another set of digits, forcing his mouth to give them the same generous treatment. Corydonn blushed, gagging as his tongue thrashed about, licking up the revolting taste of the dirt and grime caked between her filthy toes. But the rat wouldn't let up as she leaned back in her chair. A squeak of delight passed her quivering lips as her paws continued to knead and smother the trapped Iksar, her eyes rolling upwards as her little fingers tugged at her robes.
"That feelses so good," she blissfully exhaled, keeping her little paws firmly pressed against his small form as she turned him around, forcing the monk to work on her other foot. "Makes me wants to keep you; maybe make you my pet. You'd likes that, wouldn't you, dummy?"
The softness of her little pads mashing against his tiny head muffled what little she could have heard. Sliding her paw away from his face, she flipped the Iksar onto his back with her toes, kneading his body with a surprising amount of affection. “You’ll learns to love it,” she said, squeezing him between her middle toes, trapping him yet again between her plump digits. “What do you says to that, pet?”
The monk blushed all the harder when she said those words. The weight of her toes pressed against his scaly lips, prying them open as they touched her furry body with an awkward kiss. Pulling him away from her paws, the mage reached down and took Corydonn in her hands, lifting him into the air close to her face to await his response.
“Well, I—” The Iksar stammered and stared straight into her huge brown eyes. “I-If you allow it, does that mean I can leave once in a while? I’ll always come back to you, I promise.”
The Ratonga shut her eyes and laughed, nearly dropping him from her hand before composing herself. “And let you leave, just likes that? Why would I want that?” She rose from her chair and planted her paws on the ground, making her way toward the other end of the room as she stared at the lizard in her grasp.
“I hate to admit it, but you managed to teaches me something today: tiny dummies like you makes for useful pets.” A devious grin formed on her lips as she turned her attention to the huge tome she left on the floor, eyes widening with glee as she continued. “If one’s just as good as you, then why stops there? I’ll find more and make them smalls too. Then they’ll join you one by one.” The mage could barely contain her growing excitement when she clawed at the side of her heavy spell book, all too eager to begin. “But don’t worry. I have a special place, just for you.”
Suddenly she lowered her hand, directing his worried gaze towards the bottomless pit that was her neglected right boot. “Only you will have permissions to go there,” she said before planting a quick kiss against the back of his helpless body. “Touch them whenever you wants. The rest will have to work hard to gain my favor.”
Before Corydonn could protest, her fingers loosened their grip on the Iksar and let him plummet through the air, falling toward the gaping maw of the Ratonga’s footwear. Darkness swallowed the monk as his chest hit the heel of her old boot, knocking him deeper and deeper into the void of her vast, cavernous hole. Landing with a damp thud at the bottom of her boot, the monk’s head grew dizzy, his sensitive nostrils and senses bombarded by sweat and the repulsive stench emanating around him.
“Countless dummies serving me,” the rat beamed, sighing with delight as her paw shoved itself deep into her boot, blotting out what little light was left for him as it crept closer and closer to his fallen body. “Those disloyals to me I can just crush. Yes, crunch them and make them an example for the otherses.” She wriggled her sweaty digits against the bottom of her padded boot sliding it back and forth over Corydonn, adjusting the footing of her toes as they clenched the poor reptile in their vicelike grip, trapping between her dirty footwear and the digits her heavy little paw. Looking out the window to the moon over Freeport, the Ratonga cackled and pressed her foot down on the Iksar as she took her first few steps toward the front door, applying the bulk of her weight against him with every slow, deliberate and agonizing step. “I wonders when that monk will get here. I should shrinks the oaf for making me wait so long.”
Category Story / Macro / Micro
Species Iksar
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 72.5 kB
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