Originally Published Aug. 6th, 2022

 Strong and broad and as tired as an overworked mule, the orc shuffled into her home and latched the door behind her. Her tunic hit the floor immediately, and her boots followed an instant later. She crossed the living room in a few strides, her toes popping in gratitude for their freedom, and threw open the shutters to her window. A breeze blew in, tickling the glistening skin of her green chest; the forge had been hot as ever, and this rare wind flow was luxury enough in the sweltering, stagnant air of the Krygallack Swamp. She was determined to take advantage of it. Closing her eyes, she cupped and lifted her large breasts so that the cool air found its way over as much of their flesh as possible.

 Her neighbor glanced over, but didn't think much of the display; while such actions would've been illegal in public, what Yaella did in her own home was none of her business, even if it was in full view. Besides, all the swamp-dwellers knew not to judge someone for trying to beat the moisture-ridden heat.

 The breeze died away as a whimper. When it did not return, Yaella grunted and stepped back from the window. She yanked down the fairy-mesh, and then pulled a motor-operated fan down behind it. The contraption roared to life with the turn of a knob, and the orc woman retreated to her couch. Though the magetricity sparked and hissed, the artificial breeze was the best she was going to get for now. With a sigh, she let herself fall back onto her seat. The couch groaned from the sudden weight, but it held, and after a few moments she was sinking into its plush cushions. Though the rest of her house was furnished with things made locally by her fellow orcs, Yaella had to admit that the Shapechangers in the Elven Royal Dungeon knew their trade well, even if the couch had cost the equivalent of three months' pay. A low whine was squeezed from the cushion as she leaned forward. Reaching down, her hands wrapped around a box containing a much cheaper purchase. It was small, able to fit snugly in the palm of her hand as she pulled it from under the couch and through her tree-trunk legs. She carefully placed it on the low table in front of her.

Thump! Her calloused, yellow heel slammed down beside the box, dwarfing it, making it bounce slightly from the force. Her foot slid down, and with an ease borne of practice, she flicked the box's lid with her big toe. It clattered across the table, and with the same ease she brought her toe back down. It struck the box, flipping the container violently and throwing its contents over her toes and foot.

 The tiny creatures were as dust to her. They landed violently, tumbling across the sticky green skin, but their magical conditioning kept them mostly unharmed. However, her aim was not perfect. Of the almost two hundred specks, over a quarter rolled off her toes or never touched flesh at all, and instead landed on the metallic surface beneath the hovering foot. Some found themselves trapped in the grimy crevices at the base of her toes, stuck in the sweat-caked filth from her boots. Unfortunately, they were too small to be crushed. Instead, as the orckess flexed and wiggled her toes, they were rolled and mashed into the pits of grime, buried alive by old sweat and sticky, muddy lint.

 The humans on top of the toes were relatively safe, at least for now. All they had to do was worship the toes of their owner; kissing, licking, cleaning, anything they could think of to make Yaella feel less like a skilled-but-unimportant smith and more like a goddess deserving of ceaseless praise and undying adoration. This task was easier said than done. Even the spells that had been worked over the tiny people to improve their endurance and did nothing to dampen the horrendous smell emanating from her enormous feet, and the constant twitching of her toes sent many of the humans tumbling down to meet their brethren below. If she cared about having her feet clean, the woman would have to stay completely still for days.

 Of course, that wasn't the point of the exercise. All Yaella, or any orckess for that matter, cared about was the feeling of having hundreds of humans suffering and humiliated beneath her. The orcs had bore the brunt of the human invasion. When those interdimensional crusaders spewed forth into Macropia, it was the orcs who'd spent the most blood to hold the line for generations. Their efforts allowed the elven moon priestesses time to invoke the Intervention, which finally ended the invasion. As such, the orcs that remained desired little more than to utterly subjugate the now-diminished humans beneath them.

 Yaella sighed. Though they were crawling all over her toes, she had to lean forward and squint to even play at seeing the tiny people. She had no easier time feeling them; the stimulation they gave was entirely mental. Still, the Intervention was several hundred years ago, and she never grew tired of the sensation of dominating humans. At least, until she was ready for bed.

 She dropped her feet without warning. Her soles slammed onto the table, way too fast for the humans beneath them to even know what was happening. One moment they were looking up at the dirt-splotched wrinkles, and then most of them were gone, crushed beneath the orckess' calloused soles. Her moan echoed around the room as she imagined dozens of the tiny beings popping from such a simple motion from the lowest part of her body. She wiggled her toes, tossing off the humans on them and striving to crush more beneath the squirming digits. To maximize her crushing area, she rocked her feet back and forth, side to side, mashing and kneading the table in every way she could think of. By the time she was finished, red specks and tiny smears dotted the polished metal surface.

 Of course, being so small, a fair few humans survived the massacre. Some were fortunate enough for the wrinkles of her sole to pass by them entirely, leaving them under a canopy of stinking, hardened flesh. When the orc woman finally dropped her feet to the ground, they were left standing on an open plain of polished iron, their companions now reduced to little more than scarlet puddles. They looked up at the massive goddess looming over them, but she paid them even less attention than before. Yaella merely rose to her full, terrible height and left the world quaking beneath her as she stomped away. The humans had entertained her enough for the evening, and she simply did not care what happened to them from then on- even those horribly unfortunate few still trapped in her toe jam. As she crawled into bed, they remained at her feet, struggling to release themselves from her filth. Though one of the most technologically advanced races in Macropia, the average orc was not considered wholly hygienic; most homes in the Krygallack Swamp lacked a tub or shower, and so their owners would normally head to the communal bathhouses once, maybe twice a week. Therefore, when Yaella put on her boots to go to work the next day, unbeknownst to her, the crevices of her toes were still caked with filth and humans.

 Many expired over the course of the day; heat exhaustion took several, and others drowned in the sweat pouring from her skin or finally suffocated as more toe jam was packed on top of them. Still, a few were shaken loose from the mashing, squirming monstrosities that were the woman's toes. They fell into the disgusting morass that was her insole, still clinging to life despite the horribly hostile environment. There they encountered other humans; these too were the remnants of a prior night, now trapped deep within the orc's boots. They were skulking, spiteful creatures, feral and selfish, existing off of the palpable atmosphere and whatever foul detritus fell into their disgusting world from those sweat-soaked emerald toes. The new arrivals would soon become the same, surviving for a time until finally being done-in by the hostile environment, a fellow skulker, or simply ending up crushed if Yaella moved in an unexpected way.

 
But before all that, as the orckess drifted off to sleep, the tunic she'd left abandoned twitched and shifted. In the seam that connected the sleeve to the body, the dark outline of a sweat stain began to shimmer and steam. For a moment, it appeared as though all the trapped moisture had risen and pooled atop the surface of the fabric. But then the puddle continued to rise, pushing aside the garment until it had sufficient space to take its proper shape. The liquid formed two legs, two thighs, a body, arms, wings, and a head, and then the clear fluid became flesh and blood. Nyri the fairy stood atop the orc's dirty tunic and rose to her full height of two-and-five-eighths inches.

 She sniffed herself, shuddering as the smell of orc-sweat hit her. She hated using the Liquid Form spell, but it was so useful in the humid air of the Krygallack that every fairy was taught it as soon as the magic budded in their wings. Though it had served her well, Nyri still wished the orc had spilled beer on herself, or at least had let some saliva drip onto her collar; becoming a larger being's sweat was never pleasant. But, thankfully, that was behind her now. She buzzed her iridescent, dragonfly-like wings to shake off any excess fluid, and then leapt into the air.

 The landscape of the orckess' house now lay below her like a map; there was the living room with couch and table, a very basic kitchen with a swamp-gas stove, and finally an opened door that led to a darkened bedroom. Vermilion lamplight poured in through the mesh-covered window, casting the main room in an unearthly glow. The fairy scanned for her prize... there! A bowl on the kitchen counter, its brim almost overflowing with golden Satyric pears. All caution gone, she fluttered down and landed atop the plump imported fruit whose sweet aroma floated up to her nostrils before her soles had even met its surface. She wasted no time. Her pointed teeth dug into the fruit's flesh without a second thought. She hummed in delight as its honey-like juices drowned her tongue and ran down her cheeks. The local Krygallack berries were no competition for the foreign pear.

 She'd eaten a hole the size of her face, but still little Nyri was not filled. A large chunk of the fruit came off in her hands. Happy with its size, she jumped into the air again and carried herself over to the metal table. The breeze from the window cooled her as she descended.

Squish! Something popped beneath her sole. Her other foot touched down, but instead of cool metal, she felt something explode beneath it as well. Something warm... Looking down, Nyri nearly jumped back into flight when she discovered the culprits. The little creatures were smaller than her, a surprising feat in this world. They were much like her, except they had no wings, and there seemed to be males among them. In fact, judging by the short-haired scalp clinging to her right sole, the creature she'd landed on was a male.

 “Humans!” she squeaked with surprise. The pear chunk was tossed away as she stepped forward. The little people scattered and cowered, the crowd they were in expanding as they ran from her dainty feet. Without warning, she dropped down. The humans behind her screamed as her bare ass descended upon them, overtaking some and landing on them. The flesh gave way just a bit, but it wasn't enough.

 A tingle in her nethers told her she hadn't crushed all that she sat on. One had survived, and he now found himself struggling against the hairless lips of her womanhood. A moan rose from deep inside the fairy's being, low and visceral. Her hand drooped down the perfect curve of her abdomen until its fingers found the little man's head. His scream was cut off with a flick that buried his face in her folds. Another moan escaped her lips, this one more audible, and her other hand gripped the nude mound that was one of her breasts. He was so small beneath her; smaller even than she was to the orc. His little body, struggling as it was, was still too short to stimulate her clit from where he was pinned between the base of her labia and the surface of the table. No matter: Nyri saw to that herself. As her fingers rubbed the lustful nub, her pelvis rocked atop the tiny man, her womanhood hungry to take him within its drooling maw.

 Her body shook, and a purring squeal escaped her lips. Pleasure coursed through her pulsating veins. Her legs squeezed together on their own instinct as if to capture her orgasm and hold it forever. But, unfortunately, the wave eventually passed through her and away. It was only after a panting recovery that Nyri noticed the human was no longer struggling. Without so much as a shrug, she stood and stepped away, leaving behind a bruised, drowned body in a puddle of her fluids.

 Between the play of both Yaella and Nyri, there were very few humans remaining on the table. The fairy, a creature of immediate pleasure, mirthfully chased down and stomped out all she found before realizing she could take some with her. What she didn't eat or use herself, she could sell back to some humaneers- fairies who bred, captured, and sold humans to the larger races. But that meant she would have to find some more...

 The box was empty. Undoubtedly it was enchanted to make sure none or the tiny creatures could hold onto the walls or cower in the corners when it was tipped over. Then, she tried under the couch; from her vantage point within the the sweaty tunic, Nyri was just able to make out where the orc had pulled that batch of humans from. However, none were there, either. She thought for a moment. The bedroom perhaps? It was as good a place as any. Leaping into the air once more, the fairy buzzed across the cabin and into the orc's sleeping chamber.

 Yaella's form was immediately noticeable, even with bedroom's closed shutters and drawn curtains. She'd stripped off what remained of her clothing, and was lying sprawled across the bed completely uncovered. The air was stuffy here; a magetricity fan was too loud to run in the same room one slept in. Nyri felt as though her wings were the only thing moving air in the room. Well, except for the massive, bellow-like lungs of the green-skinned giant. The fairy fluttered around, her twilight-accustomed eyes scanning for any sign of human boxes. They found none, as far as she could tell. What little furniture the bedroom held was clean of loose items and personal effects. Either the orc kept her toys in a drawer, or she simply didn't have any more boxes of humans. Whichever was true, Nyri was out of luck in that regard. She sat on Yaella's bedside table, out of ideas.

 “Mmh...” a grumble rolled from the orc's slumbering chest. Nyri was airborne instantly, her wild-fae instincts forcing her to take flight before conscious thought even recognized the sound. Her heart raced as she watched Yaella roll onto her side, nuzzling deeper into the flat, well-worn pillow her head rested on. The mountains on the orc's chest compressed under their own weight, while the fairy's eyes drifted down the length of the giant body to where a pair of large, sweat-glistening feet sleepily rubbed each other. The feet... Nyri had an idea at last.

 When she was sure the orc was settled, the little fairy darted down to the lower end of the bed. The smell hit her immediately. Sour, stale, and yet still sharp enough to cut through her nostrils like a razor: it was much worse than the armpit had been, and that had been bad enough. Still, Nyri powered through, her quest for more humans as strong as ever in her mind. She fluttered before a toe as tall as she was and searched the disgusting crevices for any surviving creatures.

 They were there, of course, but in various states of entombment within the sludge of dirt, lint, and sweat. Plenty were trapped deep between the orc's toes, but Nyri did not like the idea of scraping them out. Even if she could perform the feat without waking the sleeping giant, there was no way of knowing how usable the little people were until she could pick the muck off and examine them in her hands. She fluttered up to the toeprint, and smiled as her eyes fell on a much better specimen. Held on by a layer of dried dust-cake, a healthy-looking young man had survived Yaella's walk to bed by chance of being trapped on a ridge just above where her toe met the ground. Now, he stared back at Nyri's predatory gaze with a look of bewildered panic. Of course, Nyri didn't think about, nor did she care, if the human would rather die for her amusement or forgotten at the feet of the orc. She merely savored the moment as her wings buffeted the air around him, making the black hair on his head quiver with the wind. All she had to do now was reach out and pluck him up...

 Nyri was fast, but Yaella was faster. Before the little fairy could dart away, the enormous toe fell on her. She landed roughly on the mattress, feeling the distinct crackle-crunch of wings breaking under her weight. Then the toe landed atop her. Her face was forced into the dusty, calloused skin, its ridges pushing into her cheek. There was a pop! on her breast, and she felt liquid leaking from the toe, right where the human had been. The pressure grew, and her body sunk deeper into the mattress. Her wings were definitely broken now; she was glad they didn't feel pain like the rest of her.

 A pair of thick, grubby fingers seized her in a pinching grasp. The toe retreated, and Nyri was pulled into the air until she beheld a giant, angry face with two tusks that gleamed with the lamplight eking in from the living room window.

 
“I thought I felt fairy wings tickling my toes,” Yaella said, her voice heavy with sleep. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and focused their gaze more fully on the creature in her grasp. “You won't be needing them anymore, by the way.” Nyri felt that other hand's fingers grip her busted wings and tear them away as easily as if they'd been made of paper. The stubs that remained of her once-proud flyers twitched with fear. “Now,” the orckess continued. “Why are you in my house? How are you in my house?”

 Nyri found her voice enough to give a meek reply. “I was hungry. I merged with the sweat in your shirt and reformed when you went to bed... my lady.” She'd heard that treating the large species like nobles sometimes helped a fairy's odds of survival.

 “Hungry, are you?” the orc chuckled, the quakes traveling up her arm and shaking the fairy. “Food is in the kitchen, not at my feet.” At this, she gave Nyri's body a hostile, yet light squeeze.

 “I was looking for humans!” the little woman squeaked. “I ate some of your pear, then played with your leftover humans on the table. I ran out of them so I came in here looking for more.”

 Yaella laughed again. “You're right in one thing, little fairy; humans belong at my feet, either dying beneath them or worshiping on them.” The giantess paused to think. “I think I can help you. You won't be flying anywhere soon, and I have both food and humans. Since you're already acquainted with my feet, you can clean them, and in return you'll get my leftovers... food and toys. What do you say?”

 Nyri knew it wasn't a suggestion, or a deal. She didn't have any choice until her wings grew back. “Oh... ok... my lady.”

 A devilish smile grew across Yaella's emerald features. “Good,” she purred. “What is your name?”

 “... Nyri.”

 “Adorable. You can start tomorrow. I have to work in the morning and need to sleep tonight.” The bedside drawer was pulled open, and the fairy landed roughly on its metal interior. She tried to stand, but was thrown back to her knees as the orckess slammed the drawer shut. “Good night, little Nyri. I expect top work on the first day of your new life.”

 True to her word, Yaella had purchased more humans on her way home from work. She performed her usual ritual, tossing the little creatures over her squirming, steaming toes and basking in their powerlessness. All the while, Nyri sat on her knees, head bent before the yellowed expanse of sole looming over her. The orc woman continued her play, culminating in the crushing procedure she'd performed the day prior. Except now, at the end, she held her toes out to the fairy's face

 “Eat,” she commanded. “You meal is ready.”

 With broken resolve, Nyri gripped the giant toe with both hands. Her mouth fell onto the rough skin, lapping at the ridges forming the toeprint.

 “Oh, it's better if you start between them. Don't want you getting full before you get to the good stuff,” Yaella called down, laughing as she did.

 On command, the fairy worked her face between the orc's big and second toe. A tear ran down her face as rancid muck landed on her tongue, and she swallowed everything it contained: dirt, lint, sweat, and humans.