Astrid's Thinning Patience (Patreon)

Alric was something of a laughingstock within the viking village, as the most pitiful warrior within the clan. He wasn't hated by any means, if anything his clan-mates looked to him with pity and regret, since they knew he had the courage and resolve of a true viking. He simply wasn't born with any talent for fighting. His body was frail and sickly, and no matter how hard he trained he always fell short of the other fighters. This didn't stop him from trying however, and when a flock of dragons attacked the village he charged out with the rest and gave it all. Sadly, his glorious foray into battle was cut short almost immediately, as a blast of dragon breath rocketed from above and hit him dead on. He was amazed to open his eyes and find himself sore but alive, certain that he had been sent to the other side before he could earn a scrap of valour through combat. He thanked the gods for giving him another chance, but as the world around him suddenly started exploding in size he realised he had met with an even crueler fate. Several of his comrades had seen him start to shrink but continued with the battle, but he miraculously avoided being crushed in the chaos. His tiny form was plucked up off the muddy ground and brought inside, then dropped unceremoniously into an empty mug while the clan heads debated on what to do with him. He wasn't the first viking to be struck by a macrodrake, but none had actually been found alive by the end of a battle, so they had no past traditions to look to for guidance. At the end of the long discussion they decided it would be shameful to look after him like some kind of pet, his only shot at maintaining any sort of honour was to serve the clan in some way despite his new size. He could no longer craft or hunt, let alone battle, so it was decided he would be gifted to the women of the tribe and follow whatever orders they gave him, mainly since the men really couldn't think of any way to put him to use. The women were stumped at first too, but finally came to the conclusion that cleaning small objects would be about all he could accomplish. It still felt wrong though, while it may have been tiring for him to scrub a single mug clean due to his minute stature, it still seemed quite pathetic to the normal sized women who looked after him. They held a private council while he was asleep, deciding that they need to increase the difficulty of his work somehow, both for the sake of his honour and for their own growing anger at having to care for him like a babe. Since his size prevented any more physically challenging tasks, they chose to make it psychologically trying instead. As their discussion grew heated and countless demeaning ideas were tossed about it seemed like the starting issue of Alric's honour had been forgotten, but in truth the fed-up giantesses were seeing him as less of a person and more of a bug anyway, so why shouldn't their desires come first?

Astrid was one of the few attending that still felt sympathetic to your plight, but her voice was drowned out by the mob that wanted to turn you into a tiny slave. Accepting that wouldn't be able to save you from you're fate she at least volunteered to break the news to you, since she doubted the other would even bother explaining anything and just start barking orders. Alric curled up and wept after she told him how awful his future would be from here on out, and the giantess forced down the surge of disgust she felt from seeing his sorry appearance, trying to hold on to her pity for him. She slowly unstrapped her boots to give him more time to process things, flexing her grimy toes for a minute to delay even longer. Sighing as she saw Alric still huddled in a pathetic ball, she finally brought her filthy feet above the table and slammed the down forcefully. The impact sent Alric tumbling onto his back, and he gazed up in horror at the towering soles of the giantess, each fleck of dirt seeming like a boulder to him. The grim thought that their were countless other feet just as large that he would be forced to clean as well overtook his mind, dozens of women that may as well have been goddesses that would force him to swallow the disgusting crud that caked their gigantic soles. He broke down into another fit of sobbing as Astrid impatiently curled her toes, looking at him exasperatedly with disgust filling her gaze once more...

"I know this is a lot to get used to, and probably the last path you wanted your life to take, but you need to look on the bright side. You were always too soft to be a warrior anyway, you would have died without any valour to your name at some point if you hadn't been hit by that blast from a macrodrake. At this size you can serve the clan in a way more fitting to your lack of strength, and it isn't as if serving the needs of all the women here is a simple task. I know some of the other's have been taunting you about how demeaning it is, but I think you should be proud of how useful you're being despite being the size of a bug. I'm almost tempted to pass up my turn so you have one less pair of feet to lick clean, but going easy on you won't help you adjust in the long run. This is your new life little one, you need to stop dwelling on the past and get your tongue out already..."