Taming the Dark Sorceress - F/f shrinking - Updated 4/30

[bigguy123456789]

Prologue Part 1: The Price of Clumsiness

The heavy oak doors of Lady Margaret of Blackstone's Great Hall slammed shut as her courtiers and servants rushed out, trying to avoid her notorious temper. With a lazy flick of two fingers and quick spell, the sorceress sealed it shut with shimmering, violet sparks that glowed briefly before fading away. No one would enter, and no one would leave unless she desired it.

Margaret stood at her full, imperious height of six feet and one inch, her long raven hair cascading down her back. The dark purple robes she wore clung to the delicious and sensual curves of her body. At this moment, however, those priceless robes were marred by a dark stain of expensive red wine across the left breast and shoulder.

Before her, trembling on the thick, plush carpet, was Lira, a young chambermaid who had recently come into her service. Barely five-foot-four, with wide hazel eyes, soft chestnut curls, and an innocent face, Lira looked very small indeed under the weight of her towering mistress’s gaze.

“M-my Lady,” Lira stammered, dropping to her knees, the empty silver goblet still clutched in her left hand. “I beg your forgiveness. It was an accident! My hand slipped, I…”

“An accident,” Margaret snarled as she looked down at the serving girl with nothing but disdain. She had spent the entire afternoon enduring the petty bickering of her vassals in the Great Hall. Hours of simpering fools who thought they could trick her into giving away her hard earned wealth and power. And now this.

She stepped closer, the hem of her stained robe brushing Lira’s bowed head. Even in her soft slippers, Margaret’s presence was overwhelming. The sorceress towered over the maid, her shadow swallowing the smaller woman entirely.

“You have served in my household for eight months, little Lira,” Margaret continued, circling the kneeling girl slowly. “And in all that time, I thought you understood the value of my precious magical artifacts.” She pinched the wine-soaked fabric between two elegant fingers and lifted it, letting droplets fall onto the carpet. “This robe is older than your great grandma, and further enchanted by my own sorcery. And you have ruined it with your clumsiness. It will take days to get this stain out.”

Lira’s shoulders shook. “Please, my Lady! I can clean it. I will work without rest. Whip me if you must, but I can fix this!”

“Whip you?” Margaret let out a soft, foreboding chuckle. “How barbaric. No, little one. That punishment is for common criminals. You have displeased a sorceress in her own sanctuary. There are far more effective punishments for that.”

She stopped directly in front of the trembling maid and tilted her chin upward with her finger. The contrast was stark: the powerful, regal sorceress gazing down with her cold, emerald eyes, and the tiny, terrified servant staring up in wide-eyed fear.

Margaret’s full lips curved into a slow, cruel smile.

“Stand up, Lira. Let me look at you properly. 

Lira rose on shaky legs, barely reaching Margaret’s collarbone. The sorceress studied her the way a cat studies a cornered mouse.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Margaret murmured, almost affectionately. “It would be such a shame if you never learned your place. Tonight, you are going to learn exactly what it means to serve me.”

She raised her hand, as pink and purple sparks began to shimmer faintly around her fingertips.

“Shall we begin?”

Lira barely had time to draw a breath before Margaret’s spell took hold.

A soft pink glow slowly appeared around the sorceress’s fingertips and drifted forward in a thick pink cloud, slowly surrounding the chambermaid’s body. At first it felt only warm as a pleasant tingling heat that spread across Lira’s skin.

“My Lady… what are you doing to me?” Lira’s voice faltered as the pleasure quickly increased.

“You are shrinking, little one,” Margaret said disinterestedly, although her eyes sparkled with delight. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, watching with unwavering attention. “Slowly and sensually, so you can enjoy every single inch you lose.”

Lira gasped as the first visible change began. The top of her head, which had previously reached Margaret’s collarbone, now only reached the underside of the sorceress’s breasts. The maid’s simple linen serving dress, once snug across her chest and hips, suddenly hung loose.

“No… no, please!” Lira whimpered, clutching at her dress as it slipped off one shoulder. But the spell continued its inexorable mission, slowly shrinking the little maid as she writhed in pleasure. Another inch vanished. Then a foot. Then two feet.

Lira’s wide hazel eyes grew even wider with panic as the grand chamber seemed to grow larger around her. The thick carpet felt deeper under her bare feet. The hem of her dress slid down her thighs, then her knees, before finally puddling around her ankles. She tried to hold it up, but the dress soon became too large, and she let it fall to the floor.

Margaret’s smile widened. “Look at you,” she purred, stepping closer so that her towering form completely dominated the shrinking maid. “You were so eager to serve me, yet so careless. Now you’re learning what it truly means to serve me.”

Lira was down to two feet tall. Her dress had fallen completely, leaving her in only a thin white shift that now reached her ankles. She stumbled backward and her shift fell to the floor, but Margaret’s long fingers caught her gently by the shoulders, steadying her and stopping her from attempting to flee.

“Stay right there,” Margaret commanded. “I want to watch.” The sorceress’s voice was soft and almost tender, but her eyes burned with desire.

Lira shrank faster now. The tiny chambermaid was completely naked now as her mistress drank in the sight. Her body had become delicate and doll-like, her breasts small and perky, and her waist tiny enough for Margaret to encircle with only two fingers.

Margaret let out a low, wicked laugh as she liked her lips.

“Down to under two feet tall,” she teased, crouching gracefully so she could get a better view of the shrunken maid. Even crouched, Margaret was enormous. “How does it feel, little one? To go from a serving woman to my plaything?”

Lira trembled violently, trying to cover her naked body with her arms. Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. “Please, my Lady… I’m sorry… I’ll never disappoint you again!”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” Margaret whispered. She bent over slowly as she extended one elegant hand and easily scooped the now fifteen-inch-tall servant into her palms. Lira let out a surprised squeak as the warm, impossibly huge palm slid beneath her pert rear, lifting her effortlessly from the floor. The world spun and blurred around her as she was lifted higher and higher. In the next instant, Lira found herself pressed firmly against her mistress’s soft, pillowy breasts. The sorceress rose to her full height once more, holding her tiny victim before her face, inspecting her like a priceless jewel. Her warm breath washed over Lira’s naked body, causing her to shiver in pleasure.

“You’re perfect like this,” Margaret purred, as she stared down at her with a predatory grin.

She carried the trembling, knee-high girl toward her bedroom, each step sending gentle tremors through her body.

“And now, little one,” Margaret said as she settled onto the silk sheets of her bed, “the real lesson begins. This isn’t really a punishment though,” she teased. “I see the way you look at me. And I know you have wanted this for a while. You were so jealous of my other shrunken conquests. I saw you trying to peek in as they were pleased by my giant fingers. And now you get to try it yourself. So, what do you say little one? Shall we begin?”

Margaret laid the tiny, naked chambermaid down gently onto the vast expanse of her opulent silk covered bed. From Lira’s perspective, it was as big as  the cathedral she had once visited in the capital. And though she was a bit frightened by her new stature, she was significantly more turned on and desperate for her mistress’s touch.

As Lira lay on the bed, still trying to make sense of her predicament, Margaret slowly shrugged off her stained purple robe, letting it fall to the floor in a messy heap. Not one to hide her beautiful curves, she wore nothing beneath it, revealing a soft, feminine body that had ruled in the palace court and bedroom for centuries.

She looked no older than 24 summers, despite being centuries old. Her skin was pale and smooth, as if she hadn’t seen sunlight in months. Her breasts were large, full, and perky, sitting high on her chest with soft pink nipples that had already hardened. She turned slightly, giving Lira a full view of her impressive ass that was round, firm, and perfectly shaped, as if enhanced by powerful sorcery.

Lira tried to crawl backward slowly, but Margaret’s long fingers descended and pinned her gently but firmly to the bed.

“None of that little one,” the sorceress teased, her voice dripping with arousal. “You’re going to stay right here and take your punishment like a good girl. And admit it, you’ve been desperate for this.”

One of Margaret’s elegant hands moved downward. A single finger (as long as Lira’s entire leg) traced slowly down the tiny woman’s trembling little body, from her collarbone, between her small breasts, over her quivering stomach, and finally stopping between her thighs.

Lira gasped sharply as the warm pad of that massive fingertip pressed against her most intimate place. Even her pinky finger was too thick for her now.

“You’re wetter than the summer rains,” Margaret whispered softly, loving the power she held over her shrunken maid. “Does being helpless before me excite you, little one?”

Lira trembled. “Y-yes, Mistress…”

Margaret’s eyes darkened. “Then admit what you did little one, or you won’t get what you want…”

Lira hesitated nervously only a second before whispering, “I spilled the wine on you on purpose… hoping you’d shrink me too.”

Margaret said nothing, but smirked down at the shrunken maid with a predatory grin.  The sorceress began to rub slow, deliberate circles over Lira’s tight little snatch. The pressure was overwhelming. Lira’s hips bucked involuntarily against the enormous finger as helpless little moans spilled from her lips.

Margaret watched with intense fascination as the shrunken maid was overwhelmed by pleasure. She pressed the tip of her pinky finger down harder, softly rubbing those tiny, wet folds, causing Lira to moan even louder.

“Ah! My Lady!” Lira cried out desperately. She felt impossibly full from just that small intrusion.

“Shhh,” Margaret cooed, her breath washing hot over the tiny woman’s naked body. “Take it. This is what you deserve for displeasing me.”

She began to move her finger over her dripping pussy with soft, careful strokes, enough to make Lira writhe and sob with overwhelming pleasure. Margaret’s other hand rested lightly on Lira’s chest, holding her in place while her thumb gently squeezed the shrunken maid’s bosom.

Lira’s entire body shook and trembled as she clutched at the massive finger, her small hands barely able to wrap around it as she tried to pull it even closer. Every touch from Margaret sent waves of ecstasy crashing through her. She was being ravaged by a single finger from a powerful sorceress who could crush her without a second thought, and she was loving every minute of it.

Margaret’s breathing grew heavier as she watched her tiny plaything come undone. With a wicked smile, the sorceress plucked Lira up with one hand and lifted her toward her beautiful face.

“Time to taste my naughty little maid,” she giggled as she brought the fifteen-inch woman right up to her soft, full lips. 

Margaret’s hot breath washed over Lira’s dripping sex for a brief second before her enormous tongue slid out. Her tongue was wet and rough, easily as wide as Lira’s entire body. It pressed firmly against her pussy as she licked upward in one long, sensual stroke.

Lira cried out as the huge tongue completely covered her sex, dragging roughly over her swollen clit. The heat and wetness were overwhelming. Margaret licked her again, slower this time, savoring her taste, the broad tip of her tongue flicking and swirling across the tiny woman’s most sensitive spots.

“Now you’re going to come for me, little one,” she commanded imperiously. “Then you’re going to thank me for your punishment. Although we both know for you this is more of a reward.”

Lira’s moans turned into whimpers as her tiny legs shook uncontrollably. The pressure built higher and higher until she couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Please! My Lady, I’m…I’m going to…”

Margaret smiled wickedly and pressed her tongue down harder, moving faster as she anticipated her maid’s oncoming orgasm.

Lira came harder than she ever had in her life; more than she ever dreamed was possible. Her back arched violently as a powerful orgasm ripped through her tiny body as she screamed in ecstasy. Her whole body convulsed over and over again, juices coating her mistress’s tongue and fingertips as she rode out the world shattering climax.

Margaret’s fingers kept stroking her gently through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until Lira was a limp, panting, tear-streaked mess. The haughty sorceress lifted her glistening finger to her lips and tasted the tiny woman’s juices with clear satisfaction.

“Mmm. So sweet. You’re such a sweet little thing when you learn to behave.”

Lira lay limp and trembling in her palm, her tiny chest heaving, legs still shaking from the force of her release. A sheen of sweat glistened on her miniature body. She was utterly spent.

Margaret gazed down at her with a satisfied, almost affectionate smile. She brought her glistening finger to her lips once more, slowly licking it clean while maintaining eye contact with the dazed little woman.

“Delicious,” she purred. “You performed your punishment very well, little Lira.”

The sorceress leaned down, and with surprising gentleness, she scooped Lira up in one hand and cradled her against the soft, warm swell of her breast. The tiny maid could feel the steady, powerful heartbeat of her mistress thundering beneath her.

For a few minutes, Margaret simply held her there, letting the aftershocks fade. Lira instinctively curled against the massive, yielding flesh, too exhausted and overwhelmed to do anything else. Then Margaret’s voice grew cool and commanding again.

“Let this be a lesson you never forget, little one,” she snapped, her tone now icy and low. “In my castle, you are all beneath me. If you spill so much as a drop of wine, speak out of turn, or fail in your duties , then I may not be so merciful next time. I could keep you like this for days or weeks. A tiny plaything kept in a cage on my nightstand for my amusement. But from what I just witnessed, maybe you’d like that.”

Lira said nothing, but whimpered softly, pressing her face against Margaret’s breast in fearful submission. The sorceress chuckled, then raised her free hand. Violet arcane energy swirled around her fingers once more. 

“But you were a good girl tonight, so you can grow back.”

With a casual snap of her fingers, the restoration spell came to life. Lira gasped as the world rushed around her. Her body expanded rapidly. Within moments she was her normal five-foot-four self again, naked and trembling on her knees on the bed before the seated sorceress.

Margaret looked down at her restored servant imperiously. “Get dressed,” Margaret ordered coolly, gesturing toward the discarded shift and dress on the floor. “And clean my robe before morning. I expect it to look perfect.”

Lira nodded frantically, tears still shining in her eyes. “Y-yes, my Lady. Thank you… thank you for your mercy!”

As the maid hurriedly pulled her clothes back on with shaking hands, Margaret rose from the bed and began to dress in a far more fitting outfit for a dark sorceress of her rank and power. She slipped on dark, sleek robes that clung to her curves like a second skin, with a deep plunging neckline and high slits that revealed tantalizing flashes of pale thigh with every step. Silver arcane runes glittered along the edges, glowing faintly against the dark fabric. Then, she slipped on heeled boots that added even more height to her towering form. Lira couldn’t help but be even more intimidated as glanced up at her mistress.

“One more thing,” Margaret added as Lira reached the door. The sorceress’s emerald eyes were harsh, and any affection she had shown before had melted away. “If you ever want to get shrunk again and pleasured, just ask. If you ruin another one of my robes, you will regret it.”

Lira nodded desperately, curtsied low, and fled the chambers as quickly as her trembling legs would carry her.

Once the door clicked shut behind the shaken chambermaid, Margaret let out a long, satisfied sigh. She poured herself a fresh goblet of wine and took a slow sip, savoring the rich flavor.

“She was such a sweet little plaything,” she thought to herself in the empty room, a cruel smile on her lips. “How fortunate I will never run out of subjects to teach exactly how small and prowess they truly are beneath me.”

As she savored her expensive wine, the haughty sorceress had no idea that before dawn broke, another sorceress would reduce the mighty Lady Margaret into her own desperately needy plaything, no taller than her knee. And to her shame, she would love every moment of it.

Later that evening, as the candles burned low in the great hall, a loud knock echoed through the heavy oak doors. Margaret lounged on her grand, jewel covered throne, still wearing those dark robes that hugged her body. She lazily swirled a fresh goblet of wine between her fingers.

“Enter,” she called, not bothering to sit up straight.

The doors opened and a tall, armored man stepped inside. She knew this man well. It was Sir Edward Warwick, the Queen’s personal envoy. His silver and blue tabard marked him as one of the royal household, and his expression was carefully neutral as he approached.

“My Lady Margaret,” Edward said with a respectful bow. “Her Majesty the Queen sends her greetings and requests your aid in a most delicate matter.”

Margaret raised a single elegant eyebrow, looking thoroughly bored already.

“Go on,” she commanded, waving hand dismissively.

Edward chose his words carefully. “There has been… an incident at the royal palace. A magical disturbance of unknown origin. Several court mages have already failed to contain it. Her Majesty believes your unique expertise with ancient enchantments and shrinking curses would be invaluable. She asks that you ride to the capital at once.”

Margaret let out a soft, venomous laugh. She took a slow sip of wine, letting the silence linger before finally answering.

“How charming. The great Queen, ruler of all these lands, suddenly needs her lowly vassal’s help?” She set the goblet down with a loud click. “Tell her this: I am not her errand girl. If she wants my power, she can come here and beg for it herself.”

Sir Edward’s jaw tightened slightly. “My Lady, the situation is more serious than I am permitted to describe in full. The Queen believes you are the only one who can help. Your skills are unmatched in this realm.”

Margaret rose to her full six-foot-one height, towering over the queen’s envoy. Her eyes gleamed with arrogance.

“Unmatched. Exactly,” she said. “Which is why I have no interest in wasting my time cleaning up the Queen’s messes. I have far more useful ways to spend my evenings.”

Her lips curved into a cruel little smile as her thoughts drifted to the shrunken chambermaid she had waiting upstairs. Well, she did ask for it, she thought to herself. Who am I to deny my vassals their most intimate desires?

She waved a dismissive hand. “You may leave. Tell your Queen that Lady Margaret of Blackstone refuses. Perhaps next time she will remember who truly holds the greater power here.”

Sir Edward stood motionless for a long second, clearly biting back her words. Finally, he gave a stiff bow.

“As you wish, my Lady. I will deliver your… response.”

As the envoy turned and left, Margaret sank back into her plush throne with a satisfied smirk.

“Fools,” she thought to herself “All of them. They’ll never understand how far beneath me they truly are. Even the queen. Who does she think she is ordering me around? She’ll soon learn her place.”

Suddenly, a young blonde woman in an expensive purple and white dress, clearly of noble birth, stood up with her fists clenched at her sides. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and angry.

“My Lady… you will regret this. This is a huge mistake. The Queen does not ask lightly, and the consequences of your refusal may reach farther than you realize.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She stepped forward until she towered over the young woman, her presence overwhelming.

The young woman continued, refusing to back down. “I urge you to reconsider before—”

“Threaten me again,” Margaret cut her off in a venomous tone, “and you’ll be leaving here fifteen inches tall, naked, and squirming in a gilded cage on your way back to your precious Queen.”

The room grew silent as faint violet sparks crackled around Margaret’s fingertips.

The young noble woman’s face paled slightly, but she held her ground for one more defiant heartbeat. Then she gave the stiffest bow Margaret had ever seen.

“As you wish, my Lady,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will deliver your message in full.”

Without another word, the envoys turned on their heels and strode out of the great hall, the heavy doors slamming shut behind them. Margaret remained standing for a moment longer, then let out a soft, arrogant laugh.

“Pathetic,” she muttered. “Another fool who thinks she can intimidate me in my own home.”

She took a long, satisfied sip of wine, already picturing the little chambermaid, no taller than the span of two hands and naked on her opulent bed, patiently waiting upstairs.

“They all forget their place eventually. Luckily I am always here to remind them.”

The heavy oak doors had barely slammed shut behind Sir Edward when Margaret noticed a small, elaborately designed box they had left behind. Opening it, she found a small but ornate crown inside. It was delicate, wrought from black silver and white gold, set with deep violet gemstones that seemed to swirl with faint inner light.

Inside was a note to her from the queen. Clearly, this was a gift she had sent to entice her to respond to the summons. She looked at the note disdainfully before casting a spell, causing it to break into millions of pieces, never bothering to read what was written on the page.

Margaret arched one of her perfect eyebrows. “How careless of them,” she thought, bending down to retrieve the artifact. “Leaving royal treasures behind like common trinkets.”

Curious, she turned the crown over in her long fingers. It was surprisingly light and warm to the touch. With a haughty little smirk, she placed it upon her own head.

A sharp jolt of magic shot through her forehead. Margaret gasped, staggering back a single step as faint violet sparks flickered across her vision. The sensation faded almost immediately, leaving behind only a lingering warmth. She frowned slightly, shaking her shoulders as if to shake off any remaining jolts.

I hate when beauty enchantments linger in metal, she thought irritably. Such sloppy work. They always leave that little bite when they’ve been freshly worked, especially when they polish it at the end to make it shine.

Her fingers traced the delicate edges of the crown again, slower this time. It was undeniably exquisite. The craftsmanship, the strength of the enchantment, the way the gemstones caught the light. It was better than anything Margaret had ever worn.

Honestly… it looks better on me anyway. She tilted her head, admiring the reflection of the crown as she adjusted it slightly.

A gift is a gift, she reasoned coolly. And if it’s been placed in my hands, then it would be wasteful not to keep it.

Still buzzing with satisfaction over her dismissal of the envoys and her new beautiful crown, Margaret decided she needed a change of scenery. She waved a hand over herself, weaving a simple but effective glamour. Then she pulled on a dark blue hooded robe over clothes, while still expensive, were those of a wealthy commoner rather than a powerful sorceress. 

Satisfied with her disguise, Margaret slipped out a side entrance of her manor and made her way into the night toward the lively tavern at the edge of town. A few strong drinks and the company of lesser mortals sounded like the perfect way to celebrate her dominance over both the Queen’s envoy and her sweet little shrunken maid.

She had no idea that someone far more dangerous than the Queen had been watching her with a smile on their face.

As she toyed with those envoys and stole their priceless gift, far beyond the walls of Blackstone, in a dimly lit chamber lit only by flickering candlelight, a shimmering pane of magic hovered in the air. Within it, Margaret’s figure moved, pacing, preening, and admiring her own reflection as she turned the delicate crown in her hands.

A woman stood before the scrying spell, her arms loosely crossed beneath her chest, her gaze fixed and unyielding. Her hazel eyes traced every movement with quiet intensity, drinking in every detail.

“Go on…” she whispered softly to herself. “You know you can’t resist.”

Her lips curved as Margaret lifted the crown, and hesitated only a moment before placing it upon her head. The instant it settled, a faint pulse of magic rippled outward, subtle and invisible to its wearer, but not to the one watching.

The woman’s breath caught slightly in anticipation. Her fingers flexed slowly at her sides as she felt the shift take hold, exactly as intended.

“There it is,” she whispered. Her smile deepened, now filled with quiet anticipation. 

“Perfect.”

She lingered a moment longer, watching Margaret change into her disguise, unaware that she was now vulnerable in a way she had not been for centuries.

Then, with a small flick of her fingers, the scrying spell collapsed inward, the image shattering into fading strands of violet light. A soft chuckle echoed in the empty room just before the magic vanished completely.

[bigguy123456789]

Chapter 1 - The Tavern Seduction

Part 1

The Wolf and the Moon tavern was crowded and full of cheer, with a pungent scent of ale, roasted meat, and smoke that couldn’t be ignored. Lady Margaret had slipped into the bar unnoticed, cloaked in a deep hooded robe of midnight blue to hide her identity. Even disguised, her presence commanded attention. At six feet and one inch in height, with striking emerald eyes, porcelain skin, and long raven hair, she was impossible to ignore.

She took a seat at the far end of the bar, wanting a quiet corner to think. The court had been exhausting. Tonight, she simply wanted a strong drink and perhaps a pretty young face to distract her.

As Margaret drank her ale, the barmaid moved gracefully behind the counter as she served customers cheap food and beer, her chestnut hair tied back in a messy braid. Her simple linen dress hugged a strong, athletic 5'6" frame leaving little to the imagination. To most patrons, she looked like any other serving girl. Only a very few would have noticed the sharp intelligence in her hazel eyes or the way her gaze lingered a second too long on the tall, regal stranger.

She poured a generous tankard of the tavern’s finest dark ale, then discreetly traced a glowing violet sigil over the rim with her fingertip as she walked towards her target. 

“Here you are, my lady,” Mira said warmly, sliding the tankard in front of Margaret. Her voice was melodic “You look like you’ve traveled far. First drink is on the house if you’ll tell me your name.”

Margaret arched a perfect eyebrow, mildly amused by the bold barmaid. Most peasants averted their eyes in her presence, but this one met her gaze directly.



“Margaret,” she replied, letting her hood slip back just enough to reveal her face. She lifted the tankard and took a long, slow sip. The ale was rich and felt cool and refreshing as she drank. A pleasant heat spread through her chest almost immediately.



Mira leaned on the counter, bringing their faces closer. “Pretty name for such a stunning woman. I’m Mira. And I must say… you’re the tallest, most striking thing that’s walked into this tavern in months.”



Margaret’s lips curved into a confident grin. As a powerful and beautiful sorceress, she was used to flattery, but something about this barmaid’s directness intrigued her. She took another deep drink, admiring the maid’s curvaceous figure.



They talked about Mira’s life and how she had come to work as a bar maid. Mira was clever and playful, teasing just enough to draw the haughty sorceress out of her shell. Margaret found herself relaxing, enjoying the game. She couldn’t help but appreciate her strong arms, full breasts, and the confident way she swayed her hips as she served the drunken patrons. Margaret was already imagining how delightful it would be to pin this bold little peasant girl against the wall upstairs and have her way with her.



Wait until she finds out who I really am, she thought to herself.



As they flirted, the dark sorceress continued to slowly dwindle. Margaret felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her legs and a slight light headedness that she attributed to the strong ale. She didn’t notice as she dropped from 6'1" to 5'11". Then to 5'9".



Mira kept refilling her tankard, each time brushing her fingers lightly against Margaret’s hand. The touch sent little sparks of magic into the sorceress’s skin, increasing the strength of the glamour spell that kept the sorceress oblivious to her soon to be obvious changes.



By the time Margaret finished her second drink, she was below 5'8". She shifted on her stool, frowning slightly. The bar felt higher than when she’d first sat down, but she dismissed it, focusing on the beautiful barmaid in front of her and how good she would look naked on her knees.



Mira, standing behind the counter, now seemed taller than expected. No, that couldn’t be right. I must be more drunk than I thought, she thought to herself. 



“You’ve got the most incredible eyes,” Mira purred, leaning in closer. Their lips were now so close that they were almost kissing. “Like emeralds. I could stare into them all night.”



Margaret let out a slow and sultry chuckle as she reached out and boldly tucked a loose strand of

Mira’s hair behind her ear. “You’re quite forward for a silly little barmaid.”



“Only when I see something I want,” Mira replied, her voice full of desire as her gaze flicked down to Margaret’s breasts. The oversized tunic had slipped low, the loose neckline falling open just enough to leave her breasts far more exposed than she intended.



Margaret had another drink, and another unnoticed inch disappeared from her frame. She was now 5'6"; exactly the same height as Mira! When she stood from her stool to lean across the bar, bringing their lips almost flush, she felt an unexpected thrill at how strong and powerful Mira looked.



I didn’t realize how big she is, thought Margaret. This will be even more fun than I thought. Maybe I can even shrink her down a bit. She’s almost too big, but there’s an easy fix for that. 



She brought her fingers together, ready to cast a slow shrinking spell on the bold peasant girl, but Mira grabbed her hand and gently squeezed, distracting her.



Mira smiled. “Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more… private?” she asked, her breath warm against Margaret’s lips. “I have a room upstairs and my shift just ended.”

Margaret’s pulse quickened. She could already picture shoving this confident barmaid onto the bed and showing her exactly who was in control.



“Yes,” the sorceress replied, voice full of desire. “Lead the way.”



Mira took her hand, and the two women, now the exact same height, slipped through the crowded tavern toward the stairs. The barmaid led the way up the narrow wooden staircase, one hand still holding Margaret’s. The sorceress followed with confident strides, already imagining how she would take control the moment the door closed. 



I’ll push this bold barmaid against the wall, shrink her, strip her, and remind her exactly who held the power in her realm.



But something felt slightly off. With every step, Margaret felt lighter, warmer, and a little more dizzy. The pleasant heat from the ale had spread through her entire body now. 



She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. It was nothing. Just the strong ale, nothing she couldn’t handle.



I must be more drunk than I thought, she told herself.



Mira’s hand felt pleasantly strong around hers as they climbed the narrow wooden staircase. Halfway up, Margaret had already dropped to 5'4", and the steps seemed slightly steeper than before, her stride just a touch shorter than it should have been.



But it was her boots that were becoming impossible to ignore.



The finely crafted leather that had once hugged her calves perfectly now felt loose and sloppy. With every step, her heels slipped backward inside them. The right boot almost slid off completely on one step, and she had to curl her toes desperately to keep it from falling off her dainty feet. The left one was nearly as bad, and the heel kept catching on the edge of the step before slipping free again.



“Damn these boots,” Margaret muttered under her breath, annoyed. She tried to adjust her footing without breaking stride, but the movement only made the oversized footwear shift even more, causing her to almost trip.



Mira glanced back with a small, knowing smile. “Is everything alright back there?”



“Fine,” Margaret replied with an annoyed huff, refusing to admit anything was wrong. She clenched her dainty toes harder, trying to keep the boots on, but the effort only drew attention to how much smaller her feet now felt inside them. She stumbled again as the right boot nearly came off entirely. Mira’s grip on her hand tightened instantly, steadying her with effortless strength and pulling her close.



Her tunic shifted again as she moved, the loose fabric slipping lower off one shoulder, the wide neckline sagging enough to nearly expose one of her pale, perky breasts. The belt at her waist hung looser now, the knot no longer snug.



By the time they reached the top landing, Margaret was barely 5'1". Her sleeve slid down past her wrist as she lifted her hand slightly, and she absently pushed it back, frowning faintly. She shook her head, trying to clear the strange fog in her mind.



Mira glanced back with a knowing smile. “Almost there, little one,” she said softly, giving Margaret’s hand a gentle squeeze.



“Little one?” Margaret smirked at the bold barmaid, ignoring the way her collar had dipped enough to expose even more skin than before. She was already anticipating the moment she would remind this upstart exactly who she was dealing with.



They reached the door, taking out a key from her pocket. As Mira turned the key, Margaret stepped up beside her and she froze for half a second. Something felt unmistakably wrong. Margaret, now only 4'10", had to tilt her head back to meet the barmaid’s hazel eyes.



Mira pushed the door open and stepped inside. Before Margaret could make sense of what was wrong, the barmaid turned, slipping one arm behind the sorceress’s back and the other beneath her knees. In one smooth, effortless motion, Mira lifted her into the air. Margaret barely had time to react before the ground vanished beneath her feet. A sharp gasp escaped her as her body betrayed her, arms rising instinctively to clutch at Mira’s shoulders.



“W-what are you doing?” Margaret demanded in a startled voice as her grip tightened around Mira’s neck. “How dare you!”



“Shh,” Mira whispered, carrying her across the threshold. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you. And I think you want it too.”



Margaret’s pulse quickened. Being held like this felt strangely titillating. Mira’s arms were strong and warm, and her body solid and comforting. 



Her fingers tightened lightly at Mira’s shoulders as she let herself be carried, already imagining the reversal, the moment she would press this bold little barmaid down into the bed and remind her exactly who she was dealing with 



Mira kicked the door shut behind them. The room was modest but clean, with a large bed with simple linens, a small table, and a single lantern with a candle. Without hesitation, Mira confidently carried her straight to the bed and gently deposited her onto the soft mattress.



Margaret sank into the bedding, looking up expectantly at Mira, who now towered over her at the edge of the bed.

“Are you ready, little one?” Mira teased.

Margaret let out a low, arrogant laugh. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, you silly barmaid,” she replied, reasserting control as she stared up at the tall and beautiful peasant girl.

I can’t wait to put this little upstart in her place, the sorceress thought haughtily. Tonight will be one of the best nights of my life. For both me and her.

[bigguy123456789]

By the way, this is a bit of a rough draft. I'll probably go back and edit this, but just curious if anyone even wants to read more of this.

[potyzeff]

I liked it. Would have wished for some unexpected irreversibility in shrinking though:-)

[bigguy123456789]

Thanks for the positive feedback! I have the first 3 chapters in a Google Doc if you want to read them. It's a pretty rough draft but mostly how the story will go.

[bigguy123456789]

Chapter 1 Part 2

Mira’s eyes were full of desire as she climbed onto the bed, slowly inching towards Margaret like a predator. She leaned down, capturing the sorceress’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Margaret moaned into Mira’s lips as she explored her body with both hands. She reached up to pull Mira closer, but the barmaid easily caught both wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.

Her cloak, already slipping loose during the climb upstairs, had fallen away entirely as she was carried to the bed, leaving her only in clothing far too large for her now diminished frame. Mira’s hands explored her body with growing confidence, appreciating every curve as the proud sorceress arched into her touch.

Again, she tried to take control, but Mira didn’t budge. Instead, she simply pressed the sorceress down into the mattress effortlessly, one hand still pinning both of Margaret’s wrists above her head.

Margaret’s eyes widened in surprise.

She shouldn’t feel this strong, Margaret thought hazily. I’m stronger than her… aren’t I?

The confusion only heightened her arousal. Everything felt slightly wrong, slightly bigger. Mira’s body seemed larger, heavy, and warm as it enveloped her. The barmaid’s breasts pressed heavily against Margaret’s smaller chest. Her thighs straddled her hips with ease, pinning her beneath her before she could even think to move.

Mira released her wrists only to tug Margaret’s fine tunic up and over her head. The sorceress’s full, pale breasts with large, pink nipples spilled free - still beautiful, but now they looked small and delicate against Mira’s strong hands. Mira cupped them greedily, squeezing both stiff nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from Margaret, her back arching instinctively at the touch.



Margaret tried again to assert herself. She reached up, fingers clutching at Mira’s dress, trying to drag it down and expose her breasts. But her arms felt weaker now, her reach just short of where it should have been.



At first, Mira let Margaret think she was giving in, letting out a soft, amused chuckle. Then, without warning, gave Margaret a quick, firm pinch on the left cheek of her cute, shrunken booty.



“Eep!”



The sound slipped out before Margaret could stop it, high and innocent and completely unlike her. Mira’s smile deepened instantly at the sorceress's reaction, her eyes dark with desire as she leaned in close.



“Easy,” she whispered while nibbling her ear. “Let me take care of you.”



And with that, she gently, but firmly, pressed Margaret back into the pillow. The rest of her clothes easily slipped away one piece at a time. Margaret’s boots slid off almost on their own, no longer fitting the smaller shape of her feet. Her trousers followed, falling down legs that had once felt long and commanding but now seemed slender, almost delicate.



When Mira finally pulled her own dress over her head, revealing strong shoulders, full breasts, and powerful hips, the contrast hit Margaret like a tidal wave. Mira looked enormous. Not just taller; she was massive. Her body loomed over Margaret’s newly petite form.



Has the barmaid always been this broad? How is she this strong?



The sorceress tried to wrap her legs around Mira’s waist to flip their positions, but Mira simply hooked Margaret’s smaller thighs over her hips and pressed forward. Her hands guided Margaret’s smaller thighs into place, spreading her legs wider as she pressed forward, holding her there effortlessly.



Margaret moaned as their bodies pressed together, heat against heat. Mira’s warmth surrounded her completely, leaving no space between them. A hand traced slowly down Margaret’s now-slender torso, over her stomach, before settling on her soaking honey pot. The touch made her shiver. Two fingers stroked her slick folds before pressing inside. Those two fingers felt thick inside Margaret’s tight little snatch.



She arched her back, a desperate moan slipping free before she could stop it. Nothing made sense. She felt… smaller. Lighter. Easier to move, easier to control. Every time she tried to push back, to take reins, Mira shut it down without effort.



That shouldn’t be possible.



She had always been the stronger one. The one in control.



And yet, here she was, pinned beneath her, her body responding, betraying her, as if she had no say in it at all.



Margaret’s hands tangled in the barmaid’s hair, half trying to guide her, half simply holding on for dear life. Her body felt hypersensitive with every touch amplified. She was dripping wet, hips bucking desperately against Mira’s mouth as the barmaid devoured her.



Why are her fingers so big inside me? Why do my hands look so small on her shoulders? Why does this feel so… so good?



All she knew was that this bold little peasant girl was completely dominating her, and instead of the outrage she expected to feel, Margaret only grew wetter than the summer rains, needier, and more desperate with every passing second.



Margaret slid back up her body, pressing their perspiring bodies together. Her legs wrapped tightly around Mira’s waist as pleasure built higher and higher. She was so close.



Both women now grinded their slick, heated sexes together in a relentless rhythm. Margaret was completely overwhelmed. She was pinned beneath the barmaid’s increasingly stronger frame, her dainty legs wrapped high around Mira’s waist, her hands clutching desperately at the other woman’s back as she tried to hang on for dear life.



Every powerful thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing through her. Mira’s breasts swayed heavily above her, nipples brushing Margaret’s own with every movement. The barmaid’s fingers felt even more powerful inside her as she held her in place, driving them both closer to the edge.

Enough of this, thought Margaret. It’s time to take back control.



The haughty sorceress twisted sharply beneath Mira, trying to leverage her weight, to roll them and reclaim the upper position. For a split second, it almost worked. Then Mira caught her.



Her hands closed around Margaret’s arms, dragging them back and pinning them above her head as she pressed down harder, faster, erasing the attempt as if it had never mattered. Kissed her deeply, and the sorceress completely submitted to her dominant lover.



Margaret’s back arched sharply and a broken, desperate cry tore from her throat as the pleasure crested without warning. Waves of blinding ecstasy crashed through her petite body. Her inner walls clenched violently, juices flooding between them as she shook and writhed beneath her lover. The climax was longer, deeper, and far more intense than anything she had ever felt, as if the pleasure itself was devouring her.



When she came, the entire world seemed to shatter and reform around her. Everything else fell away as if she was drifting into the void. She had returned only partially to her senses when she realized Mira’s fingers were no longer inside her.



As she opened her eyes and looked up at Mira’s massive face while cradled within her mountainous bosom, she was in utter shock. She was the size of a doll, just the size she liked to keep her conquests, now pressed helplessly between Mira’s breasts.



What is going on? This can’t be real, her mind screamed in delirious panic even as her body begged for more. This is a dream. It has to be a dream! I would never allow myself to be shrunk and dominated like this. A proud sorceress and ruler like me reduced to a knee-high plaything? Impossible.



With her mind settled on an explanation that would preserve her arrogance and ego, she allowed herself to continue to indulge her fantasy. This was simply the most vivid, filthy, intoxicating erotic dream my mind had ever conjured, she thought to herself. Nothing more.



She continued bucking her hips against Mira’s powerful fingers, while at the same time grinding against her breasts. Tiny legs kicked helplessly against sweat covered, yielding flesh as wave after wave crashed through her minuscule body.



Mira laughed as she pleasured the tiny sorceress with her giant fingers, shaking her out of her revelry. Margaret froze for a split second and stared up at her. The barmaid loomed above her like a colossus with an amused expression as she toyed with her, as if there had never been any question of who held the power here.

She is amused by me, Margaret realized. I’m just her plaything.



She found the thought humiliating but it also drove her even more wild with desire. And if in this dream, Mira wanted her to writhe beneath her giant fingers in ecstasy, who was she to argue?

Margaret came again and again. Each orgasm was better than the last. She kissed and licked desperately at the warm, soaked flesh surrounding her, grinding her entire body, barely over a foot tall, against Mira’s body like an enchanted plaything.



Mira finally shuddered through her own powerful climax, her thighs trembling around plaything . When the last aftershocks faded, she gently lifted Margaret’s limp, exhausted body and cradled her against the soft, warm valley between her breasts.



Margaret’s eyes fluttered shut, a dazed, blissful smile on her tiny face.



Just a dream, she thought as darkness claimed her. Just a wonderful, impossible dream…

[bigguy123456789]

Chapter 2 : The Morning After

Morning light slipped through the window, making Margaret blink as she slowly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She lay curled up on something soft and warm, a slow, steady heartbeat beat beneath her cheek. A strong finger traced lazily up and down her bare back, sending pleasant little shivers through her.

Last night’s dream had been so intense, so deliciously overwhelming, but she was eager to prove to Mira that she was far more than some meek little submissive who came undone so quickly (before dozing off into a delicious dream). This morning she would flip their roles and show the barmaid exactly who was meant to be on top. 

It’s time to reveal to her who I really am, then she’ll know her place. Maybe I’ll even shrink her and take her back to my castle until she learns her lesson.

She briefly considered telling Mira about the vivid dream of being so small and utterly helpless, but thought better of it. She didn’t want this silly barmaid to think she was naturally submissive. No, today, she would be the one in control.

Still smiling wickedly, Margaret rolled onto her side, reaching out to caress what she expected to be Mira’s ample breasts. Her fingers met something long, warm and far too thick. The underside was smooth, but the scale was completely wrong. 

Margaret’s emerald eyes snapped open and she screamed.

Before her loomed an enormous hand, the same hand that had pinned her wrists and explored her so thoroughly the night before. 

Terror flooded Margaret’s chest as she scrambled backward on all fours, her tiny naked body sliding across the bed’s fabric. 

“No-no, this isn’t…this was a dream!” she gasped, voice high and panicked.

She kept crawling away in blind fear, not realizing she had reached the edge of the bed until it was too late. 



What is going on? Why is everything so huge? Where am I?



Her hands grasped at the bed sheets as she tumbled over the side with a sharp cry. The fall lasted only a second. She froze in the air, hovering a few feet off the ground, surrounded by Mira’s sorcery. 



A huge hand lunged forward and collected her effortlessly in its warm palm. The world spun as Mira sat up in bed, bringing Margaret level with her face. The giant barmaid gently prodded the tiny sorceress with a fingertip until she was sitting upright in the center of her palm.



“Good morning, little one,” Mira said, her voice full of amusement and a hint of affection. “I was starting to worry you’d sleep all day after what we did last night.”



“Little?” she whispered, the word cracking. Then louder, horror dawning: “No… no no no, this is a dream! Last night was just an erotic dream!”



Margaret’s chest heaved wildly. She instinctively tried to cover her naked breasts and sex with her arms, suddenly mortified by her complete vulnerability. Her mind reeled, struggling to process the impossible.

Mira’s hazel eyes sparkled as she tilted her head, studying the tiny woman in her hand, no taller than her forearm.



“I’m afraid it wasn’t a dream, my proud little sorceress,” she replied softly, her breath washing warm over Margaret’s entire body. “You were quite eager and very loud. I think you quite enjoyed yourself.”

It took a moment for everything to finally come together. She had been shrunk by a rival sorceress! Rage exploded in her like wildfire.



“You shrunk me?!” Margaret shrieked, balling her tiny hands into fists at her sides. Her nudity was forgotten in her fury. “You treacherous wench! You shrank me and used me like I am a lowly servant girl?”



Mira’s laughter caused her to fall over



“Oh, I’ve been quite naughty, haven’t I?” Mira chuckled, while grinning down at her conquest. “Allow me to make it right later. But first, we have business to discuss, so I need you to get cleaned up from last night’s activities.”



She extended her arm over the small porcelain washbasin on the bedside table and casually tipped her hand. Margaret screamed as she plummeted into the cold water with a tiny splash.



Margaret surfaced with a splutter, dragging in sharp breaths as the cold water jolted her body. The porcelain basin that had once been a simple washbowl now seemed like a small pool, the water lapping at her chest at barely a foot in height. She wiped her eyes and looked up, fixing her glare on the enormous, smiling face above her.



“You lowly peasant! How dare you!” she started, but Mira’s soft laughter cut her off.



“Careful, little sorceress. You’re in no position to talk to anyone like that anymore.”



Fueled by pure indignation, Margaret waded through the shallow water toward the edge of the bowl. She struggled to climb out, slipping and falling back more than once before finally pulling herself over the edge. Finally, she dropped lightly onto the wooden bedside table, dripping wet, naked, and seething with rage.



“Stop laughing at me!” Margaret shouted, stomping a tiny foot that landed with a soft, almost inaudible patter.



Mira rested her chin on her hand, watching the furious little woman with open delight.



“You’re sexy when you’re angry,” she teased. “Even more so when you’re wet and naked.”



Margaret’s cheeks burned crimson. She crossed her arms tightly over her breasts, then realized it did almost nothing to hide her from Mira’s lecherous gaze. She dropped her hands to her sides instead, fists clenched.



“I am Lady Margaret, ruler of Blackstone and mistress of the Arcane Tower!” she declared, trying to summon every ounce of regal authority left in her minuscule body. “You will restore me this instant, or I swear by every star in the sky I will have you flayed, burned, and scattered to the winds when I return to my proper size!”



Mira raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.



“And how exactly do you plan to do that, tiny one?” she asked sweetly.



“You’re barely over a foot tall. You can’t even reach the doorknob. Your grand castle is miles from here, and right now you couldn’t fight off a hungry cat, let alone command armies or cast a spell  more powerful than a spark.”



Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but the words died when she glanced around the room. Everything was colossal, and the reality of her powerlessness crashed down on her again.



Mira sat up fully, the sheet slipping down to reveal her bare breasts and toned stomach. She reached out and gently brushed a dripping strand of raven hair out of Margaret’s face with the tip of her finger.



“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mira said, her voice softening just a fraction. “I need you, Margaret. But I have to let you know that you brought this on yourself. The spell feeds on passion and release. Last night gave me more than enough power to make it permanent , or at least until I decide otherwise. But it only could have worked if you wanted it to.”



Margaret slapped the finger away, though it did nothing but make Mira smile wider.



“Lies! I never wanted this!” the tiny sorceress hissed. “You tricked me. You pleasured me while you stole my size.”



“I did,” Mira admitted without any regret. “And you came harder than you ever have in your life. Don’t try to deny it. I felt every single one of those little orgasms.”



Margaret’s eyes burned with fury. She wanted to scream, to blast the giant woman with lightning, to do anything other than stand there naked and powerless while Mira looked at her like a fascinating new toy.



Mira reached over to the bedside table and tore a small strip from a clean linen cloth, folding it into a makeshift towel. She offered it to Margaret between two fingers.



“Drying off might help your temper. Then we can talk about what happens next.”



Margaret snatched the cloth and wrapped it around herself like a towel, though it still left most of her legs and shoulders bare. It was a humiliatingly small comfort.



“I have nothing to say to you except this,” she snarled, tilting her head back to glare up at the giant barmaid. “Restore me. Now. Or when I finally break this spell, your suffering will be legendary.”



Mira leaned in closer, her warm breath washing over Margaret like a summer breeze.



“Oh, my proud little sorceress… you’re not breaking anything. Not until you help me. Plus, something tells me that after last night” she added with a wicked little smile, “a part of you doesn’t even want me to restore you yet.”



Mira watched the tiny, furious sorceress wrapped in her makeshift linen towel for a long moment, clearly savoring the sight. Then she spoke, her voice calm and matter-of-fact.



“I know exactly who you are, Lady Margaret, Ruler of Blackstone and Mistress of the Arcane Tower. The most powerful sorceress in the realm. I’ve been watching you for weeks.”



Margaret’s stomach dropped. She took an involuntary step backward on the bedside table.



“You… you planned all this?”



“Of course I did,” Mira said, smiling. “I couldn’t take on a sorceress as powerful as you without a plan. I’m not actually a barmaid. I took this job three weeks ago just to spy on you. I knew you liked to slip out of your castle in disguise when court became too tedious. I also knew you had a weakness for pretty, bold women who aren’t afraid to fight back.”

Margaret’s cheeks burned with humiliated rage. Everything, from the flirtation, the drinks, to the way Mira had looked at her, had been calculated.



Mira continued to watch the dwindled sorceress, resting her chin on her folded arms so her enormous face filled Margaret’s entire view.



“Now, let’s get to why I’m here,” Mira continued, smiling. “The Queen knew there was a good chance you would refuse when summoned. So she hired me as her backup plan. Soon, you’ll know the problem you’ll have to solve if you want your size back, but not until we reach the capital. And to think, all you had to do to avoid this was listen to your Royal Summons.”



“Fine,” Margaret said tightly. “You win. I’ll go to the Queen, but only if you restore me.”



Mira chuckled softly. “It doesn’t work that way, little one. You go first. You fix her problem, then you get restored. That’s why you should have listened to the summons.”



Margaret’s jaw clenched. “Then at least tell me how you shrank me. My spells should have protected me from whatever weak sorcery you got lucky with.”



“I was able to shrink you because you foolishly put that crown on your haughty head,” Mira replied calmly with an arrogant smirk. “It was all part of my plan. I knew you would take the bait. It left you vulnerable for a whole day to my spells. And I decided the best way to bring you back was at a reduced size, so here we are.”



Mira paused, her smile growing wider. “And by the way… that woman you threatened to shrink yesterday? That was the princess. Or at least one of them. And she’s very excited to meet the new you.”



Margaret’s stomach dropped.



“She’ll be your caretaker on the way back to the Queen,” Mira added nonchalantly. “It’s a pity you treated her so poorly. Hopefully she doesn’t have anything… creative in mind as punishment.”



Margaret gasped. No… this couldn’t be.



“You wanted all of this to happen,” Margaret said quietly.



Mira’s smile didn’t change. “Of course I did. Every last step.”



Margaret swallowed hard. The room felt even bigger now. For the first time in maybe centuries, she wasn’t the most powerful woman in the room. And worse, she had made an enemy of someone who would soon be holding her in the palm of her hand.



At that very moment, as if on demand, there was a light knock at the door.



“Come in,” said Mira.



The same young woman she had threatened to shrink yesterday stepped inside, now wearing a beautiful white dress that showed off her lovely figure. In her hand was something covered by a small blanket.



“Hello, Lady Margaret. I know we have met before, but I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I am Princess Catelyn, and I am here to bring you back to my mother, the Queen. This all could have been avoided if you had just listened yesterday. Alas, here we are. Although, I must admit, I will enjoy being your chaperone this next week.”



She set the object she was carrying on the table and lifted away its covering. Beneath it sat an ornate cage, delicate and decorative, as if made for some exotic bird.



“Your home for the next week, Lady Margaret, as we return to the capital. Hopefully it is up to your standards,” she said with a wink. “I know you are known for your lavish living quarters.”



Then she opened the cage door and reached out for the shrunken sorceress.



Margaret tried casting a spell, but it came out as only tiny sparks. When that failed, she tried to run, but there was nowhere on the bed to hide from the vengeful giantess’s firm grip.



“Don’t you dare, you stupid wench!” she yelled. “Don’t you know who I am?”



Ignoring her threats, the princess picked up the shrunken sorceress, gave her a quick pinch on the buttocks and a small spank, then placed her in the cage and closed the door.



Lady Margaret let out a cute “eep,” unbecoming of someone of her stature, as she struggled in her grip. 



“Oh, I think I will enjoy this week, Lady Margaret,” teased Princess Catelyn as she grinned down at her new charge. “Threaten me again,” she teased in a playful tone, “and you’ll be leaving here fifteen inches tall, naked, and squirming in a cage on your way back to your precious Queen. Oh wait, you already are!”



Margaret was steaming in anger as her arrogant words from last night were thrown back in her face. She could only sit there in her new cage and plot her revenge as the blanket was placed back over the cage and she was carried out the door, unsure what was to happen next while she was in the custody of this wrathful princess that would be her guardian the next week.



“Wait,” said Margaret as they were leaving.



“Yes, my little sorceress?” teased the princess, removing the blanket from the cage once more.



“I have a chambermaid named Lira, shrunken on my bed in my castle, still waiting for me. I can’t leave her like that. I know I have a reputation for cruelty, but I can’t leave an innocent one so vulnerable. Please have Mira go and restore her. That’s all I ask. Do this and I will go willingly.”



The princess chuckled. “So the dark sorceress does have a heart. Fine. We will go and collect her. Mira, go and bring this Lira to me and restore her. I could use an extra set of eyes watching over this little sorceress. Who knows what kind of mischief she might get up to?”



“Wait,” exclaimed Margaret with fear etched onto her face. “You can’t have my chambermaid see me like this. It’s mortifying. Nobody can see me like this! "



The princess only laughed, brushing aside her pleas. “Well, you should have thought of that before refusing my mother. And I’m sure your little chambermaid will love seeing her mistress cut down to size. Perhaps she’ll even take a bit of revenge.” Her smile sharpened. “I, for one, can’t wait to see what happens next. You know you deserve it.”



Margaret opened her mouth to protest again, but the blanket was thrown back over the cage, plunging her into darkness. A moment later, she felt herself lifted and carried out the front door, the motion unsteady in her tiny prison.



What have I gotten myself into? she thought, heart pounding, as the carriage jolted into motion and the horses pulled her away toward the capital.

[bigguy123456789]

Chapter 3 - Cleaning up for Dinner

Later that night, they arrived at a lavish castle owned by the royal family, a country estate perched on the border of Margaret’s realm. Margaret knew this place well. She had walked its grand halls as an honored guest, slept in its finest chambers, and commanded servants who scurried in fear to obey every word. Now, she was being carried inside it like she was a royal possession.

Margaret could hear servants grabbing their luggage and carrying it inside. Her cage bounced lightly as the princess carried her up the stairs before finally setting her down.

Princess Catelyn removed the cloth, and Margaret saw that she was in an opulent bedroom. The bed her cage was placed on was a bed that she had slept on many times, but this time the bed itself was the size of a castle.

“Hello, my little sorceress,” the princess said with a smile. “I trust you enjoyed your journey.”

“Damn it. Return me to my proper size,” Margaret snapped. “Quit playing games you brat.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” the princess replied. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t know the sorcery to restore you. Mira is on her way to retrieve your handmaid, Lira.”

“And bring her here?” Margaret shrieked.

“Yes. She’ll be helping me take care of you.” Princess Catelyn raised her eyebrows in a mocking manner as she grinned down at her little charge.

“At full size?” Margaret yelled. “You can’t let her see me like this.”

Catelyn laughed. “Too late for that, little one. You should have listened to your summons. You have nobody to blame but yourself.”

She turned away casually. “Now, I’m going to relax. Later, we’ll dine together and discuss why you’re needed by the Queen. When Lira arrives, she’ll help you get prepared. You can rest for a while. I imagine it’s been a long day.”

“Won’t you open the cage at least?” Mira asked desperately. 

“Sorry. I don’t trust you yet. So in the cage you stay.” She glanced down at Margaret with a faint, knowing smile. “Maybe when Lira gets here she’ll let you out.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the door. Without another word, she stepped out into the hallway and closed it behind her, leaving Margaret alone in the vast, opulent room.

Margaret sat in the delicate cage, arms crossed, her foot tapping restlessly against the polished floor. Boredom gnawed at her patience, a far more irritating sensation than fear ever could.



Then she felt it. A spark. Faint and fleeting, but unmistakable. Her breath caught as a subtle warmth flickered deep within her, like the feeling you get from cold ale after a long, hot day. Magic. Her magic. Margaret’s emerald eyes narrowed as she focused inward. It wasn’t much, but it was there. And somehow she knew that Mira had returned.



Interesting. Margaret’s lips curled into a slow, calculating smile. Could that be the key?



“That spell…” she murmured under her breath. “The one she used to make me vulnerable…”



Her mind raced, piecing it together with growing excitement.



“She must have bound herself to me in some way. A connection… a conduit.”



Her fingers curled slightly as she tested the faint current of power now flowing through her.



“If I can feel her… then perhaps I can draw from that connection.”

Her smile sharpened.



“And if I can draw from it”, she whispered as a dangerous glint flashed in her eyes, “then I can use it.”



For a brief, intoxicating moment, she imagined Mira reduced, helpless, trapped exactly as she was now. Revenge. Margaret exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay focused. Not yet. But soon.



The spark within her flickered again, weak but obedient. Just enough. Carefully, deliberately, she raised her hand and began to weave the simplest of spells – a scrying charm. Even diminished, she was a master of her craft.



“Show me…” she whispered.



The air before her shimmered faintly, resolving into a hazy image of the master bedroom. Voices soon followed.



“Tonight we will have to reveal to Margaret why we need her,” Catelyn said nervously.



“That will give her some leverage once she knows,” came Mira’s voice.



A pause. “Yes,” Catelyn continued, quieter now. “But we have no choice. I always told my mother she was playing with forces she didn’t understand.”

Margaret’s ears perked up. What has the queen gotten herself into?



“She is a powerful sorceress,” Catelyn went on, “but not as powerful as she thinks. And now she’s no taller than my knee and unable to restore herself. We need to fix this soon before our enemies discover this”



A chill ran down Margaret’s spine.



“Only Lady Margaret can help us now.”



The voices and image wavered as her connection to Mira snapped.

Margaret staggered slightly as the last thread of magic slipped from her grasp, the scrying spell collapsing into nothing. For a moment, she simply stood there, breathing slowly, her mind racing. Then her eyes widened.



“Oh my god…” she whispered. “The Queen… She’s shrunk herself.”



Margaret’s lips parted, then slowly curved into a dangerous smile.



“And now she needs me.”



She began to pace within the confines of the cage, no longer bored or feeling helpless.



“How can I use this…” she murmured. This revelation had reinvigorated her, leaving her burning with renewed purpose. “No. I won’t just survive this, but win.” Her smile deepened. 



Maybe this will be a good thing. If I can use this to my advantage, I can come out of this even more powerful than before. They have to restore me before I will help them, that is for certain. Unless Mira wants me to teach her. No, I’ll never reveal my secrets. I'll just have to shrink Mira small and powerless like me, then they will have to restore me. If I can somehow spend the night in her room tonight, maybe I can have a long enough connection to shrink her down…



The sounds outside the bedroom door interrupted her thoughts. Margaret heard voices outside the door. It was Catelyn and Lira.



“When you go in there, there will be a bit of a shock. I want it to be a surprise. But once it’s over, I need you to get Margaret dressed and ready for dinner, no matter what she says. You’ll understand soon enough.”



Lira sounded nervous and confused. “I don’t think she will listen to me. You don’t know her. She will cast a spell on me if I try to tell her to do anything.”



“Trust me,” said the princess. “She will today. Now go and see to your mistress. Bathe and pamper her, and bring her to dinner in one hour’s time.”



A soft knock sounded at the door. Margaret stiffened at once, her small body going rigid where she stood in the cage. For a brief moment, she considered moving, hiding, doing anything that might give her even the illusion of control. The thought died almost as quickly as it came. She was locked in the cage, and even if she got out, she didn’t have time to hide. She lifted her chin instead, forcing herself to stand tall, even as her pulse quickened.



I can handle this little chambermaid even at this size.



The handle turned slowly, and the door opened with a soft creak. Lira stepped inside, closing it gently behind her. She lingered there for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the room, taking in its sheer size and luxury.



Then her gaze shifted. She noticed the cage resting on the bed. Her brow furrowed as she took a few careful steps forward, uncertain now, her earlier composure slipping. 



“My Lady?” she called softly, her voice hesitant, almost unsure of itself. “Princess Catelyn said I was to help you get ready for dinner.” 



Another step brought her to the edge of the bed. She bent over slightly, peering inside. And then she saw her. Lira went completely still. Her eyes widened slowly with disbelief. For a long moment, she simply stared, her mind trying to reconcile what she was seeing. Her all powerful mistress stood there in a cage, impossibly small, no taller than her knee, her emerald eyes locked upward with sharp, furious intensity.



“My Lady?” Lira whispered. “What happened to you?”



“Do not stand there staring at me like a witless child. You need to help me escape. Pick me up and let’s go.” Margaret looked up expectantly at her chambermaid, waiting for her to obey as she always had.



But Lira did not budge. She glanced once toward the door, then back to the cage, then again to the tiny figure inside it. Her breathing had slowed, but the confusion remained, turning over in her mind, searching for an explanation that made sense.



“This is not real,” she murmured, more to herself than to Margaret. “This is some kind of trick or a test, isn’t it?”



Margaret’s expression hardened, her patience thinning rapidly. “Of course it is real,” she said coldly. “And you would do well to stop embarrassing yourself and do as you are told.”



Lira stepped closer. She crouched slightly beside the bed, lowering herself until she was almost level with the cage. At this distance, there was no mistaking it. No illusion, no glamour that she could detect. Just her mistress, reduced to the same height and status that she loved to do to others.



“Oh my God,” she breathed, lifting a hand to her mouth as a delighted grin spread across her lips. “Lady Margaret… you’re shrunk.”



Margaret’s jaw tightened. “Yes,” she replied sharply. “And you are wasting my time. Let’s go. You don’t understand what is going on right now, but we need to go. Time is of the essence little one.”



Lira reached out, ignoring her mistress. Her fingers touched the edge of the cage, hesitating there, as if waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she unlatched it slowly and pulled the door open. Margaret stepped forward immediately, expecting that the next moment would follow as it always had. Lira would kneel and lower her gaze. That everything would fall back into its proper place.



But it did not. Lira did not kneel or look away. Instead, she just grinned and giggled. Lira lowered her hand slowly, her gaze never leaving Margaret. The hesitation was gone now.



“Are you powerless?” 



“That’s none of your business. You forget yourself,” Margaret growled. “I would advise you to correct that mistake while you still have the opportunity.”



Lira smiled. “I do not think I am the one forgetting anything,” she teased. It seems you have forgotten that you're no taller than a pair of your knee-high boots and completely powerless, my little haughty sorceress.”



Margaret opened her mouth to respond, to cut her down, to force her back into place. She never got the chance.



Lira’s hand moved. Two hands slipped around her waist with surprising ease, lifting her cleanly from the cage before she could react. Margaret gasped, her body betraying her as her hands flew instinctively to Lira’s fingers, gripping them as if that might somehow steady her.



“Put me down,” she snapped immediately, twisting in her grasp. “You do not touch me without permission.”



Instead, she lifted Margaret a little higher, bringing her closer to eye level, studying her in a way that made her feel uneasy.



“You really are her,” Lira said softly. “The same Lady Margaret who…”



She did not finish the thought. Margaret held her gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to give even an inch. “Yes I am Lady Margaret! And when I am restored,” she said, her rising in anger despite the position she was in, “you will remember exactly what that means. Now put me down and obey me!”



Lira considered that for a moment. Then she shook her head, just slightly. “Maybe later,” she said. “But not right now.”



Lira turned, still holding her mistress in her palms, looking her over carefully. “The princess told me you would need help,” she continued. “She said you needed to be bathed and dressed for dinner. She is the princess of the realm and I can’t disobey her.”



Margaret’s entire body tensed. “No,” she yelled immediately. You will do no such thing, you insolent peasant girl!”



Lira glanced down at her again, that same calm expression returning.



“Really? Well I think I will,” she teased as she gave her mistress a playful wink. “This is delicious. The great Lady Margaret, once so proud and cruel, brought down to the very size she once imposed on others. I believe it’s time for a little payback, my shrunken mistress.”



And as she carried her away from the cage, Margaret realized with an unwelcome certainty that for the first time in centuries, there was nothing she could do to stop her.



“No, no, wait. Put me down!” she gasped, her voice tightening as she struck at Lira’s hands and writhed in her grip. “How dare you do this to your mistress? You are making the biggest mistake of your life.”



Margaret’s voice was full of fury as she struggled in Lira’s grasp, kicking uselessly against the air. Her tiny fists struck at the girl’s fingers, but the blows carried no strength, and her maid barely felt them.



“That tickles,” Lira said with a huge grin on her face. “I think you need to learn how to behave in your new station.”



With that, she lifted her dress slightly and gave Margaret a few firm swats across her pert little backside.



“Now I think it’s time to get you ready for your bath, my lady,” she said with mock deference. “We can’t have you bathing in a dress. And afterward… look at all those beautiful dresses Mira had shrunk down for you. I can’t wait to pick one out!”



Margaret stared up at her in disbelief. “My bath?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You insolent little fool, I did not ask for a bath! I gave you an order!” Margaret’s eyes flashed in anger.



Ignoring her cries, Margaret twisted in her grip as Lira tugged the last of the shrunken tavern girl dress away, leaving her naked, exposed, and trembling in the servant’s unbreakable grip. She breathed heavily, fury burning hot beneath the sudden vulnerability.



“You dare—” Margaret snapped, trying to cover herself as best she could. “Have you completely lost your mind? I ordered you to put me down at once!”



Lira raised an eyebrow, studying her for a moment. There was some hesitation there, but it didn’t last long. For a moment, the old instinct to obey flashed across her face. Then it faded.



“You might fall if I put you down,” she said nonchalantly.



“I am not going to fall,” Margaret snapped. “Put me down now you insolent worm!”



“As you wish, my Lady.”



Lira tilted her hand. Margaret barely had time to react before she dropped into the wash basin with a sharp cry, hitting the surface of the water below with a small splash.



She resurfaced almost immediately, coughing and gasping, pushing wet strands of dark hair from her face. The water rose to her chest as she steadied herself, glaring upward with furious disbelief.



“Lira, you little fool!” she shouted. “You will regret that!”



Lira looked down at her, calm, composed, and no sign of any fear of her mistress.



“Yes, my Lady,” she said mockingly. “But for now, you should wash. The princess demanded it and we only have an hour until you’re requested.”



“No,” she huffed angrily, backing away through the water. “Absolutely not. I am not doing this. Not in a basin, and certainly not with you washing me.”



Ignoring her pleas, Lira’s hand descended toward her, holding a pale bar of soap that, from Margaret’s perspective, looked absurdly large.



She turned and waded quickly toward the edge, grabbing hold and trying to pull herself up. But as she tried to crawl out of the wash basin, Lira picked her up with tone hand and unceremoniously dropped her back in.

Margaret surfaced again with a frustrated gasp, sputtering as she pushed wet hair from her face. She glared up, breathing hard, then finally sighed in acceptance.



“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, voice harsh with reluctant surrender. “Let’s just get this over with. And try not to enjoy it too much.” Her eyes narrowed. “But remember this. When I am restored, you will pay for every slight you have put upon me.”



Lira giggled softly. “Well, if you shrink me again, that doesn't seem like much of a punishment,” she teased. “And I could always just stay with the Queen, my lady… unless, of course, I decide I want you to punish me.”



Margaret said nothing, but her expression darkened.



Lira set to work, bathing and tending to her tiny mistress with delicate care, though every so often her touch lingered just a moment too long, or pressed just a bit too boldly. Each time, Margaret tensed, but she said nothing.



When she was finished, Lira wrapped her in a soft towel and lifted her easily, carrying her over to the neatly arranged row of shrunken dresses.

“Which one would you like, my lady?” she asked sweetly.

“I don’t care,” Margaret snapped. “Just get this over with and take me to the princess.”

Moments later, she found herself dressed in delicate black lace that clung to her small form, leaving little to the imagination. Lira lifted her once more into her palm and carried her from the room toward the princess’s private dining quarters.

As they walked, Margaret felt it again, that faint, growing warmth deep within her. Her sorcery was weak, but it was returning. And with every step that brought her closer to Mira, it grew a little bit stronger. Margaret’s lips curled ever so slightly.



Soon this nightmare will be over and I can take my revenge. They have no idea how much they will come to regret crossing Lady Margaret of Blackstone.