Recovery (Patron Reward)

[This is a pledge reward for my patron, @BatgirlSilva! Thank you so much for the support~]

“You’re welcome.”

Nothing was felt, not even the usual trill of energy that tickled her blood whenever she casted magic. The end had been reached, and a new beginning was ahead for a new generation. Shadow Weaver considered herself privileged to be able to witness those two move forward into that future, regardless of what it cost her to keep them on that path. Adora was plagued with doubt, Catra yet wrestled with her own emotions -- but Shadow Weaver had known those two long enough to believe they would overcome it all. They could do so much, and all without her.

The guardian squealed with its monstrous wail as it was pushed away by Weaver’s spell. The barrier around her had faded, allowing an explosion of magic to consume everything in the chamber. In a spectacular flash of light, all seemed to be washed away in white. Adora and Catra were safe in the tunnels, but they despaired over what they were left to see. The guardian was defeated, but so too was Shadow Weaver, herself sacrificed so that they could go on. Only her mask remained amidst the debris, the last remnant of her impact.

Against their despair, Adora and Catra trudged forward. They would not let Shadow Weaver’s sacrifice be in vain -- and they did not. All of Etheria was at stake, but when it mattered most, She-Ra prevailed, and her victory against Horde Prime echoed around the world and beyond. An era of peace would spread through the universe, and both Adora and Catra would move on with their lives, always reaching for something brighter.

But days after this climactic battle, after Etheria had been rejuvenated, there was a flicker of life to be found in these underground tunnels that lead to the planet’s core. In the forgotten shadows of one particular chamber, where a cracked mask lay abandoned, was a shiver. Thin limbs pushed up from beneath the mask, and two little eyes gazed out at what remained.

Just as there was much inventory to sort through, there were many memories to contemplate. There were grim moments where it felt there was no winning, as well were there moments of hope and togetherness among those that rebelled against Horde Prime. Now, the war was over, and Castaspella was thankful for it. She had never been a fighter, always dreaded conflict, but the war was behind them all, leaving just remnants to be collected.

Thus was Castaspella at the old rebel base, the last safehold within the Whispering Woods where the remaining pillars of the Princess Alliance were directed. She was joined by missionaries from Mystacor, designated with the job of retrieving any items of importance from the now-abandoned location. Weapons and potions were useful supplies in the upcoming age of uncertainty, but Casta had personally offered to help with the effort for her own purposes. There were memories to rekindle, thoughts to exhaust, and someone to search for.

A large cache of goods was being opened and its supplies accounted for when Casta found herself lingering towards the edge of the camp. She was adrift with her thoughts, strolling past a collection of tents that had since been unused. Images of the past came to mind, replaying scenes of her bonding with the other rebels -- before long, however, her thoughts were concentrated on that of Shadow Weaver. She had proven to be a difficult ally to cooperate with, a foe-turned-friend whose mysterious motives always foiled their trust in one another. Instinctively, Casta glared at the empty tent that once belonged to that stubborn woman, but that anger soon softened into wistfulness.

“It… didn’t have to come to this, did it?” Casta asked herself, struggling with the emotion in her heart. Was she relieved that Shadow Weaver would no longer pose a problem? Or was she regretful for losing her? She clutched the brooch at her chest with both hands, reminiscing on those quieter nights where the two talked magic and spells into the early rays of the morning.

Casta continued outside the camp and further away from the missionaries. She followed a path she often took to clear her head, but every step seemed to burden her with more to think about. “This was just silly of me,” she admitted in a sigh. “Adora and Catra… know very well what they saw. But it feels wrong, doesn’t it?” She glanced upward, not to the sky, but towards a taller woman that was no longer there. “You’re ferociously dedicated... How could you just--”

A shudder from the bushes immediately cracked Casta’s trance. Startled by the noise, she jumped backwards and readied a spell at her hand -- her instincts flared, as if defending the camp all over again from Horde Prime’s cultists. Her aim wavered and her glare twitched, but she heard the noise again, something rustling from a coil of vines.

After a few breaths, Casta calmed herself. She smirked weakly, “Wh-What is it? A rabbit or something?” she joked, taking a cautious step forward -- her spell still charged and ready.

Then, something slunk from the foliage. In the shadows of the woods, it was but a silhouette of something writhing, some of its limbs tangled in vines. Its movements were creepy and stuttered, but it was just a small creature, only ankle-high to Casta who yet remained wary of the discovery. She neared closer, telling apart a streak of long black hair from the red cloth robed over the miserable creature, and then determined the face, which turned to her with a pleading look in its eyes.

Casta stuttered, but it was the tiny person before her that first spoke. “C-Casta...spella...” they said, a dry voice from an energyless body, “i-is that… really you…?”

In a flinch, Casta pushed her palm forward and let loose her spell, conjuring sigils to appear beneath the creature. The sigil then rose like a bubble, consuming the little person and thrusting them in the air, fast enough to break them free from the vines. Levitated in the air and immobilized, the mystery person struggled and groaned -- “Casta, please!” they complained.

“No…!” Casta winced, her steps slowly losing their caution as she approached. “Shadow Weaver… Is that you?”

Shadow Weaver cringed, unable to adjust how her shred of a robe slipped down her frame. “Brilliant… perception… as usual, Casta…” she remarked in a low hiss.

Casta frowned, “I-It really is you…”

“Indeed…” Shadow Weaver coughed. “Now… may I perhaps be freed from your spell…?”

The bubble faded, leaving the frail figure abandoned in the air. Just as she was about to fall, Casta hurried forward and caught the woman with both hands, the limp body collapsing into her palms with hardly much movement. A chill spread up Casta’s arm from holding such a small, breathing person, but her thoughts were afluster with how to proceed. A nervous glance was aimed back at the camp, and Casta bit her lip while deciding what to do.

Consciousness returned to Shadow Weaver hours later, at least in full. After having passed out in Casta’s possession, she was aware of their travel only in flickers, weakly understanding that they were going back to Mystacor. It was not until hours later that she began to awaken, stirring in the plushness of a purple bed -- not a bed, the sorceress understood, but a single pillow atop a wider, field-sized mattress. With no excitement in her reaction, Shadow Weaver deduced she was in Casta’s personal chamber.

“Am I a prisoner, or a guest…?” she wondered aloud, still absorbing her surroundings and her unique perspective. “I suppose it makes no difference here.”

When her eyes closed, even in blinks, Shadow Weaver felt a pull within her. It was a sensation that troubled her in her sleep, the cause of why she was awake currently. Fatigue still shivered her bones as she forced herself onto her feet, following that strange feeling. She was connected to something, magnetically drawn towards whatever it was like a hunger. Where this taste took her was to the edge of the bed, pointed at an open window that Casta was found working in the breeze of.

Just as Shadow Weaver happened upon her, so too did Casta turn and look back at her. Startled by Shadow Weaver’s stance, she jumped from her seat and dropped what she had in her hands, clutching worriedly at the brooch of her dress. “Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed in a quick breath. “Y-You’re finally awake! I-I thought you might be passed out for awhile longer…”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Shadow Weaver blandly replied, still hunting for whatever had awoken her. Casta watched, unaware of what had Shadow Weaver so enthralled. “... Magic. Were you using it?”

Casta blinked, then looked at her hands, then to the fallen ball of yarn and sewing needle. “Yes…?” she answered hesitantly. “I was using magic to sew you something, er, more… presentable?” Her eyes scrolled up and down the tiny woman’s attire, composed only of a single shred of the robe she once wore. “At least something better than that.”

Shadow Weaver scoffed, her interest in such matters low. She opened up her robe and looked across her naked body, unafraid to expose herself in front of Casta -- who instantly shivered back in a blush and muffled her gasp. “I believe I might have more pressing concerns than what I wear.”

“Y-You can’t simply…!” Casta growled quietly, but gave up the argument before it could begin. More important than Shadow Weaver’s lack of courtesy were the diversity of scars marked over her body, especially those along her brow. Casta neared closer to her and winced at the wounds, meekly pointing over them. “Should you maybe see a doctor…?”

Shadow Weaver shook her head. “These are old scars,” she explained. A tinge of embarrassment struck Casta, but Shadow Weaver continued, “All that pains me now is a… deafening lack of magic. All that power, released at once…”

Casta recalled what had been debriefed to her by Adora and Catra, some time after Horde Prime’s defeat. There had apparently been a great battle with a guardian, and after absorbing some of Etheria’s raw magic, Shadow Weaver sacrificed herself for the others to go on. It was plausible then to assume that such a release of magic resulted not in Shadow Weaver’s death, but her depletion, both in magic and in mass. It was but a theory, but at least a stepping stone towards solving this conundrum.

Shadow Weaver’s fists clenched, then loosened with nothing. She was without magic, and so she felt near-lifeless. She looked to Casta, turning her head like a spark. “Perhaps magic could restore me,” she suggested. “Care to make a donation, Castaspella?”

Casta narrowed her gaze. “Unlikely,” she asserted, propping her fists to her hips. “Sorry, Shadow Weaver, but you don’t get to disappear for days and then ask for a magical handout. How do we know for sure that this isn’t one of Horde Prime’s tricks?”

“Your distrust is reasonable,” Shadow Weaver coyly admitted, slumping into a seat with her legs off the bedside. “It makes little difference to me. I was committed to being dead after that battle, a chance to enjoy the peace and quiet. I only crawled from my hole so I could see Etheria’s fate for myself.” She glanced around the room, wide enough to her to feel like a sweeping terrain. “It appears Adora did not fail. Isn’t that pleasant.”

“You’re not taking this very seriously…” Casta hummed. Her foot was then perched on the bedside, enough weight put down to make a dip along the edge Shadow Weaver sat at. Shadow Weaver leaned away from the dress shoe, mildly disgusted. “You’re not a powerful sorceress anymore. It would be wise for you to understand your place, wouldn’t it?”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes trailed up Casta’s long dress, tracing her height up to the distant eyes. There was a beat of silence before Shadow Weaver smirked confidently with a reply. “I would not have expected someone like yourself to threaten someone so small, Castaspella. I was not aware you had such a rigid, callous side to you…”

Casta glared at her. “I preferred you a lot more when I couldn’t see you smile like this.”

“Seeing me at all is entirely your own decision,” Shadow Weaver dismissed, adjusting into a seat beside Casta’s foot. Her lax posture emphasized how unthreatened she felt, putting a twitch in Casta’s brow as a playful finger circled the bone of her ankle. “You could very well turn me over to a prison ward. You never had to help me in the Whispering Woods, either.”

“C-Could I really have not?” Casta said. “Hm. Perhaps you would have left a friend in need behind, but I--”

“Friends? Aww. Adorable.” Shadow Weaver’s gentle touch turned into a sharp stroke. “Is that what you considered us, Castaspella?”

“I-I… I meant to say an ally,” Casta stuttered and turned her gaze aside. Then, in a flare of frustration, she looked back onto Shadow Weaver more sternly, removing her foot and leaning forward for a more intimidating presence. “Enough fooling around! Th-There’s enough confusion as it is, I don’t need you doing… you-things.” She pointed and wagged a finger at Shadow Weaver, more akin to admonishing a pet dog rather than a dangerous spellcasting war general held in captivity.

Shadow Weaver still giggled, more disturbed by the removal of the foot off the bed than by how Casta loomed overhead. She sighed and lifted her knee so that her cheek could rest into it. “You had little authority over me before. What has you believing you do now?”

“Pah! Don’t be ridiculous, Shadow Weaver.” Casta smiled, standing fully again to bring attention to her height. “One of us clearly has the upper-hand.”

“Spare me,” Shadow Weaver snided. “I intended to die, but didn’t. Etheria has no purpose for me, and neither do you. Talk big all you would like, Castaspella, but I fear no consequences. In whatever direction the world spins, I spin with it -- do you understand?”

“I think I understand,” Casta grumbled, “that you desperately need to be put into your place. You really do believe yourself to simply be beyond everything, don’t you? So self-centered…” Her hands gripped at their opposite sleeves in frustration, a sign that her patience was steadily dropping. Before letting her anger take over, Casta blossomed into an exciting concept, though her furrowed brow remained beamed onto Shadow Weaver. “Maybe this little situation of your’s will offer a valuable learning experience…”

Shadow Weaver’s coyness faded, quickly sensing the shift in Casta’s tone, but she left herself be still. Casta reached forward and grabbed Shadow Weaver, carrying her in a fist down to the tiled floor of the chamber. Their opposing heights were made staggeringly obvious as Casta postured herself high and tall in front of the belittled sorceress, crossing her arms confidently in front of her chest.

“... Is this all?” Shadow Weaver asked, shrugging loosely to the open space around her. There was a chill to being exposed in such a way, but she ultimately remained stoic. She looked up at Casta, which required a steeper gaze down from the floor. “You must feel so powerful… for once.”

Casta kept her cool, refraining from a reply as she pulled a chair towards underneath her. She sat down in a drop, letting her weight exemplify her strength by causing the floor to quake. Her arms stayed crossed while she kicked one leg over the other, her feet meeting together a short distance in front of Shadow Weaver. Amusingly, Casta found that by tilting her foot the right way and closing one eye, she could actually hide Shadow Weaver entirely behind it.

“Am I to feel offended?” Shadow Weaver asked.

“Humbled, is the word I’d use,” Castaspella corrected, “but more or less, you should. That disrespectful attitude won’t pass with me anymore, Shadow Weaver. It’s time you took orders from someone else.”

Shadow Weaver’s scowl cracked into a chuckle. “This must be a joke,” she said. “What orders, then? I’ll entertain you, if I must.” She crossed her arms, only enough that her chest still hung outward from her shred of robe.

Casta raised her chin, strategically keeping her blush out of sight. Her right foot waved at Shadow Weaver, “Where better to start your lesson in humility than with my feet? You’ve acted unafraid of them this whole time, so you won’t have any issue tending to them, would you?”

The foot continued to sway in a hypnotic pace, but Shadow Weaver was unphased, staring straight through its movements. She put an unflinching palm on the toe of Casta’s slipper, forcing it to stop. “You’ll have to specify what you desire.”

Casta giggled, “Comfort them! You’re not that small. Surely you can begin by removing the slippers, right?” Her foot nudged at Shadow Weaver, like an excited dog jumping up onto a person. Appropriately, Shadow pushed the foot down and aimed a glare up at Casta, countered by her smirk.

Shadow Weaver sighed silently, adjusting her grasp on the slipper so that she held it by the sides. The shoe itself was not so heavy, but its shape was unwieldy and it formed well around Casta’s foot, requiring a tug to loosen it. Shadow Weaver knelt down under the foot and leaned towards the heel, having to grapple the slipper from the back so she could maneuver it off. The effort took half a minute long to complete, and all the while, Casta drizzled onto Shadow Weaver incessant giggles, tickled by the wrestling it took to remove the one slipper. When Shadow Weaver had finally accomplished the task, she was toppled onto her rear, holding the shoe across her lap with a grimace pointed at the freshly exposed sole.

“The other one,” Casta urged, immediately switching which foot was overtop the other. Her toes curled from within the slipper, visibly taunting Shadow Weaver to come near. “Come on. You’ve proved you can do it.”

Shadow Weaver rose, dusting herself off from whatever dirt befell her from the removed slipper. She stared at the second foot with disdain, but reserved her lash of a comment; for now, she would play along with Casta, unbothered if this humiliated her or not. Mirroring the routine from before, she crawled around and under the foot so that she could loosen the shoe before wedging it off completely, this time completing the chore without ending up on the ground. Instead, she stood with each foot at her sides, like two burly neighbors flanking her.

“Satisfied…?” Shadow Weaver asked through gritted teeth. She glared at how Casta’s bare feet stretched right in front of her, flaunting how even these lowly muscles were far stronger than her in her diminished state. She had expected a more intense odor, but Casta was a cleanly and refined woman, and so there was only the natural smell of sweat that lingered noticeably.

“Oh-ho. Not at all, actually,” Casta answered, her tone surprisingly sharp. She lifted one foot, angling its shade to be cast over the shrunken woman. More particularly, she lightly pulled up on her gown, lifting the hem to be up to her knees so that more of her smooth legs were on display. “I could have removed my slippers far faster than that. I’m expecting a little more than that -- oh, a massage would be lovely.”

“Hilarious,” Shadow Weaver scoffed and curled back a pace. “And for what reason would I massage your foul feet?”

“I’m sure someone as wicked as you doesn’t need much imagination,” Casta warned with a smile, lifting one foot to be just above Shadow Weaver. “Either you massage my foot, or my foot massages you. Which will it be?”

Shadow Weaver was still underneath the foot, barely having flinched with its weight cast overhead. Her arrogance swelled, “Unless I’ve mistakenly underestimated you, Castaspella, I don’t believe you have the heart for something so wicked, as you say.” She affirmed her posture with a spread of her legs, staring down the sole above her. “You rebels were always too kind. I find it hard to believe you’d--”

Casta’s foot slammed down with haste, instantly overpowering the frail woman and forcing her to be prone beneath it. There was only a cough of a gasp heard before the meaty thud of Casta’s stomp, a lungful of air forced from Shadow Weaver along with whatever argument she had. Judging by the persistent smile, Casta seemed largely unaware of just how mighty her single footstep was to someone so small, going as far as twisting her sole as to usher out a few additional squirms of desperation.

“Ca-Casta!! R-Release me, you…!” Shadow Weaver snarled in the silence Casta left her in, having to speak between two toes in order to vocalize herself. Only one hand was free to grapple with the foot, though any struggle was in vain. Shadow Weaver gagged, “I-I can… hardly breathe like this…!”

“Am I still too kind, hmm?” Casta wondered, each word spoken at a tantalizing pace. Her toes curled, adding to Shadow Weaver’s punishment. A flicker at the corners of Casta’s grin hinted at a deeper enjoyment than otherwise expressed, that she was thrilled to be caught up in this dynamic where she towered over an obnoxious opponent. “Is something the matter, Shadow Weaver? I thought you said you would spin with the world, but I only see you getting walked on.”

A deep-toned growl was squeezed from Shadow Weaver as she dug her nails into the foot’s sides. “Ergh… Y-You bothersome… insolent little--!”

“Little?” Casta repeated, her smile blipping into a confused pout. With a harder press of her foot, she made Shadow Weaver squirm frantically.

“Enough! Off me, now! I forfeit!” Shadow Weaver called out. Her lungs swelled the moment the foot’s weight was relieved from her, even if the skin of the sole had to be unclung from her tiny body. She hunched forward with an arm coiled to her chest, a wary eye still pointed onto the lingering foot; it waited expectedly, but Shadow Weaver now hesitated.

“Have you reconsidered?” Casta chimed. Almost in rhythm to her words, her toes rolled and stretched playfully. “Heh. It’s just a massage, you know! I’m not asking you to do anything unreasonable.”

Shadow Weaver shifted onto her knees so that she could scuttle closer to the foot. Her tongue itched with a sour remark, but she would restrain herself for the time being, having learned well that Casta was more devious than once thought. If Casta’s call was to massage the foot, then Shadow Weaver had to oblige, lifting up only tall enough so she could put both hands onto the wall-like sole posed in front of her. Simple strokes up and down sent ticklish shivers through the foot, causing it to recoil away in fright while a loud giggle ruptured from above.

“N-No! Haha! Massage them, don’t tickle!” Casta laughed, unaware that one jolt of her foot’s movement was thrust into Shadow Weaver. A finger stayed near her eye as she dried an amusement-born tear, “Wow, you’re pretty bad at this~”

“I’m a sorceress, not a masseuse,” Shadow Weaver groaned in a volume to herself, still recovering from being kicked. She shrugged off the soreness and stood up, posturing herself better before the foot. With a more precise and sympathetic approach, Shadow Weaver’s fingers pushed into the muscles, the plush and somewhat fatty skin welcoming her touches. Having been cooped up in slippers only a minute ago, traces of sweat still remained, allowing Shadow Weaver to maneuver over the foot with ease at the cost of the moisture seeping into her palms.

Altogether, her efforts proved pleasurable for the giant she tended to. Casta was heard humming in delight, reclining in her chair with satisfaction. Occasionally, she would twist her foot into a new angle, quiet suggestions for Shadow Weaver on where else to massage. Begrudgingly, Shadow Weaver followed along, slowly developing her own feel for where Casta’s foot most needed work -- par for her usual attitude, Shadow Weaver sought to perfect her performance, even if that performance was as belittling as groping a foot that was equal to her own size.

But beyond her perfectionist mindset was an allure she struggled to comprehend. The longer she massaged the foot, the closer she came to acknowledging a subtle sensation, an electric sting that tingled her blood. A rare redness warmed her cheeks as she worried that, to some degree, she was actually enjoying this submissive angle; that could not be the case, not with such distaste in her mouth. Rather, something else pulled Shadow Weaver towards Casta’s feet-- closer to Casta in her entirety.

As Shadow Weaver’s arms stroked up the foot’s center in a push, her eyes lit up with wonder. Magic…! The thought filled her head with delight, something she assumed herself to have been emptied of. Her fingers curled excitedly, as if blood flowed through her veins once more. Her touch craved for more magic, to pull even more from this mysterious source -- Casta’s foot, of all things, was like a leak of magical power, and Shadow Weaver possessed the right properties to absorb it for herself.

Casta gripped tightly the rounded ends of her arm rests. Her lip was bitten as Shadow Weaver continued with her foot, her eyes adrift upwards as she soaked in the pleasure. “You’re… getting better, actually,” Casta admitted with a short chuckle. “Those small hands can really get into those sore spots-- hmm?”

When Casta next glanced down, she noticed a change with her temporary servant. Her whole leg flinched up in surprise, a movement fast enough to make Shadow Weaver stumble forward onto the floor. The shrunken woman groaned, “Tickled again…? Are you unable to control yourself…?”

“N-No! It’s… you! You’re getting bigger!” Casta pointed down at Shadow Weaver with the tip of her toe. What she claimed was clearly true, with Shadow Weaver having grown at least a few centimeters in the past couple of minutes. Shadow Weaver noticed this as well when she stood up and looked over her body, comparing herself to Casta’s slipper and the height of the bed.

“Ah. It appears so,” Shadow Weaver calmly addressed, clenching her claw-like hands into a fist. More important to her than any amount of height was that flush of magic in her system. It was so little, but far better than having nothing at all.

Shadow Weaver schemed, but was interrupted when two feet clapped her on either side. “Eck!” she grunted, her little feet kicking for the ground as her body was picked up by the grasp of both soles. So tight was this hug from Casta’s feet that Shadow Weaver could not even dig out an arm free, leaving only her head to rock in protest. “Casta, you--!”

“This was a trick, wasn’t it?!” Casta accused, adding a small grind of Shadow Weaver’s body between her feet for emphasis. “I should have known…! I guess I was wrong to think you’d have a change of heart… but clearly you’re trying to steal my magic! You dirty thief…!”

“Y-You’re being presumptuous, Castaspella…” Shadow Weaver croaked. Though having regained some of her size, Casta was still a behemoth in relation to her. “I merely discovered it just now, how I can draw loose magic from your body! If I had planned this from the beginning -- ughh -- I would not begin with your filthy feet.”

Casta raised a brow and her grip loosened, just enough to no longer hurt Shadow Weaver. “Then, what are you trying to do…?”

“It’s not simple to explain, but you understand how a magic-user’s body is a framework for the magic itself… Yes?” Shadow Weaver tilted her head down coyly, teasing Casta with such a fundamental fact of magic. As such, Casta responded with a glare and a curl of her toes. Shadow Weaver continued, “After touching your foot, I could feel that framework, and I found nodes where that magic leaked freely.”

“And so you took that magic?” Casta frowned. “You could have asked first…”

“Your body regenerates magic like it does your blood. You wouldn’t miss it. Think of it as… a donation. I’d regenerate my own magic myself, but it’s as though I’ve been cauterized from being able to. Pure Etherian magic is just that powerful.”

Casta sighed and rested her cheek into a palm. “So is that your plan, then? Eat up my loose magic and regain your power and size?”

“It would be most generous of you, Castaspella.”

After momentarily mulling over the possibility, Casta bent forward and retrieved Shadow Weaver -- both hands now were needed after her minor growth spurt. “I suppose a little magic to help you compose yourself wouldn’t hurt,” she said, standing up from her chair and moving to her bed instead. After sitting down along its edge, she reclined back and kicked up one foot, positioning herself in a leisurely lounge where Shadow Weaver was held near her lap. “But! I expect you to earn that magic back!”

Shadow Weaver scoffed, “What sort of game are you trying to play?”

“No one’s keeping score,” Casta joked, though her smile was just barely hidden behind her breasts -- Shadow Weaver refrained from comment. “It’s just a test, to make sure you have some humility before joining the world of normal-sized people again.”

“And you get nothing out of this? No… personal joy?”

Casta’s cheeks puffed into a pout. “N-No. D-Did you want this chance or not?”

Shadow Weaver adjusted her hair as she stood up to scope out her work, biting down on whatever sarcastic comment she had queued. A deep breath in helped her visualize that magic framework, and thus pinpoint where other nodes were located. From Casta’s lap, she pointed down her body, “Your thighs.”

“... My thighs?”

“Yes. Significant magic flows from them.” Without waiting for permission, Shadow Weaver began her trek down from Casta’s waist, causing her expression to wince with every step across her body. While Shadow Weaver was unphased and focused, Casta lit up with redness as she stared at the small woman moving past her hips and onto her legs. “Mm, I can feel it here,” Shadow Weaver said, her hands drawn out towards the flow she sensed. “I cannot access the node very well with your dress down. If you may…?”

“Y-You want me to--?! Ghh…” Casta shuddered from the request; How can she be so bold about this?! It was an instinctive resistance, but she did oblige after a hesitation, pinching her dress by the sides and slowly unveiling her legs with its rise. Her progress slowed along her thighs, allowing Shadow Weaver to step over the bundle of cloth and onto the exposed skin. Immediately did Casta stutter when Shadow Weaver’s cold feet pressed into the fat. “Just, err… Be gentle, will you?”

Shadow Weaver knelt down where the thighs met, massaging the flesh to get a feel for where the nodes were located. She giggled at Casta’s shivered words, “Afraid a pygmy like myself could hurt you?”

“I’d rather just not get tickled again…”

A short crawl led Shadow Weaver to where magic was being released, a node found off-center of Casta’s left thigh. She huddled around the area, trickling her nails along the skin delicately. Little bumps were conjured under the glide of her fingers, a sensitive touch gave Shadow Weaver a taste of that power -- at the expense of Casta’s patience. Laughter had to be choked by Casta as her companion continued to gather what minimal magic leaked from her, every stroke and grasp sending jolts of tingles up her spine.

Casta may have been fearful of becoming too excited, but excitement was exactly what Shadow Weaver intended to conduct. She had found it to be the case earlier, that the more enthralled Casta became with her massage, the more magic was involuntarily released. It was a detail she kept to herself for the time being, finding no need yet to fill Casta in on her methods; it was simply more fun this way.

The flow of magic was steadily seeping into Shadow Weaver’s system. It was a warm sensation, as though being restored; she felt the radiance of its energy travel around her veins, enriching her with that power she had been cast away from. Her hands, drawing the energy through the tips of her fingers, began to cringe with anxiousness, her innate want for more driving her to lose composure.

It’s just not enough, Shadow Weaver snarled in her mind, her lip quivering with frustration. I need… more…!

Desperate for better results, Shadow Weaver pushed deep into the thigh, throbbing her little form so that it would bounce the pillowy flesh. Her fingers curled tightly around the skin, pressing the magical energy out like a sponge. Her fang-edged grin crept wider with less restraint, pleased with how her body slowly started to feel whole -- and bigger, a gradual change that was less concerning to Shadow Weaver than refilling her vessel of magic.

As she continued, Casta shivered with mixed emotions, her own fingers curling into her bedsheets similarly to how her tiny partner did so to her thigh. One brow twitched with anger, annoyed at how greedy and selfish Shadow Weaver’s touches were along her body; the other brow rose with curiosity, a unique interest in how this situation would develop and where else Shadow Weaver might be led. She wrestled with her breaths to keep them silent, yet a moan was nearly gasped as Shadow Weaver grew bigger, and thus the kneading on her thigh was that much more notable.

Suddenly, caught up in her hunger, Shadow Weaver collapsed over to the other thigh, carefreely lounging across the cleavage formed by Casta’s legs. She stretched out to reach another node, curling into a large hug of skin in a display most unlike her, especially with how Casta knew her. Casta had kept her gaze away out of politeness, but this wilder attitude from the shrunken woman had made her look down at the scene and accept the oddity that it was. She winced, not from a tickle or pinch, but because of a drumming in her heart. From Casta’s angle, she not only was audience to a doll-sized being cuddling and nuzzling her thighs, but she was allowed to admire Shadow Weaver’s body as well, posed in a crawl atop her legs with her rear shamelessly pointed up.

Without realizing it, Casta brought a finger to Shadow Weaver’s back. It chilled the little woman at first, but it eased down her spine and up around her rear, the thumb joining at that moment to hug that small bump of flesh. The touch sparked Shadow Weaver into a slide forward, but her initial growl soon turned into a breathy hum of desire that ended with a chuckle.

“Can I assist you?” Shadow Weaver asked smugly, unbothered by the mess of hair tossed over her face.

“Errk--...” Casta’s fingers flinched free from the ass, coiled away as if acting innocent. “Y-You seemed… lonely…”

Shadow Weaver giggled in a tone unusual for her. “Is that so? I assumed you wouldn’t wish to be involved. However, if this is the case…” She rose to her knees, her bare back posed for Casta to lust for while an arm draped across her chest for a teasing amount of privacy. Her lips were licked, satisfied with the magic she could draw from these leaks, but she needed more, especially so if she wished to grow any larger. “... Raise me to your stomach. I can use your assistance there, I believe.”

Casta hesitated with bashfulness, but between her wanting to help restore Shadow Weaver and her wanting to explore this dynamic to its fullest, she soon obliged. “So… bossy!” she muttered, pulling her dress up first so that her stomach was exposed. A new wave of redness washed over her as she felt her bare body be explored by Shadow Weaver’s sights, embarrassed that her purple underwear could not be hidden. Hurriedly, she picked up Shadow Weaver in a fist and brought her up to her stomach, releasing her onto the soft surface.

Shadow Weaver underestimated how cushiony the stomach would be, and so when she was allowed to stand, her first step tripped her to her knees. The bounce of her fall made the belly shiver, and a laugh was coughed by Casta in response. It was a position Shadow Weaver would otherwise be humiliated to be, balancing her weight on top of a behemoth stomach, but she was ecstatic to be around the nodes of magic, many within her immediate reach due to her enlarged size. Feet and hands branched out in order to draw in that magic, putting Shadow Weaver in a sprawled prone.

But touching Casta like this bounded her into chirpy giggles. “N-No, ca-careful there!” Casta laughed, pushing herself up the mattress in an instinctive defense. “Sh-Shadow, you’re-- haaahaa! Y-You keep ti-tickling me…!”

Shadow Weaver hissed with how uncontrollable the ground was, every puff of laughter bouncing her up and back down in a dizzying rhythm. “Calm yourself for one moment, please!” she ordered, but Casta’s laughter overpowered her little command. “Castaspella! Are you listening?!”

However, not all was troublesome with how excited Casta was. Tickled like this, Casta’s magical energy leaked more openly from her nodes, an amount that startled Shadow Weaver with its potency. Hungrily, she pulled a pinch of fat into a wrinkle she could press her face into, practically inhaling the energy from its source. She grew again, expanding to a still-subpar twenty centimeters, but with that added size came a longer reacher; a longer reacher that wanted more still.

“Castaspella, focus!” Shadow Weaver called out, posed in an animalistic crawl that clung tightly to the unpredictable stomach. She ceased her own movements, waiting long for Casta to control herself before speaking again.

“Haah… Sh-Shadow, y-you… you’re a bit bigger!” Casta giggled, finally trailing out of her laughter. She hid her messy, affectionate expression mostly behind one hand. “Wh-What is it? It looks like it was working...”

“Press me into your stomach,” Shadow Weaver said plainly. She lowered her body to lay atop the round surface, already getting into position. “Squeeze me into yourself. That much magic pushed from your system would be a bath for me…!”

Casta smirked, “Really? That’s what you want?” Her eyes closed with the prospect in her head. “I never expected an order like that to come from you…”

“Please just do this,” Shadow Weaver sighed.

Casta continued grinning as she raised an open palm, taking aim at where the woman lay on her. It tickled her just to have her hand approach Shadow Weaver and to see her act so pitifully, but with a definite firmness, she pushed down on her like she was told. Under the press of her palm, Casta felt how Shadow Weaver squirmed, inflicting her with more reasons to laugh out loud. There was a degree of intimacy as well that intrigued Casta most sensually, knowing that she had such an important woman playfully pushed into her stomach -- it was empowering, a feeling Casta rarely allowed herself to embrace.

Shadow Weaver was engulfed by the fat of Casta’s stomach, but it mattered little to her where she had to be in order to obtain that magic. As expected, the pressure applied to both her and Casta’s belly had caused even more magic to flow. Right away did Shadow Weaver feel a bump of growth, followed by a ping in her core. She gasped and moaned, overwhelmed by everything happening to her, lost in the massage-like hold that kept her swallowed by the bed-like skin. Pushed so tightly into Casta, Shadow could hear clearly the grumble of her stomach, a crackling noise that successfully disturbed even someone as hardened as her.

Any and all of the misery was well worth the cost. Every second, Shadow Weaver grew slightly larger, slightly stronger. She grappled with mounds of flesh, hugging them close to her naked body. She breathed in Casta’s scent, absorbed into the world that she was to her, this being that provided an essential nutrient for her recovery. Before long, she had managed to almost double in size, but other nodes enthralled her from higher up Casta’s body, all while Casta herself was willingly lost in fantasies filling her head.

Forgoing permission, Shadow Weaver wriggled herself free from under Casta’s grasp and crawled up to her chest. Casta only opened one eye to weakly glance at Shadow Weaver’s progress, otherwise allowing her free reign to do as she needed. Shadow Weaver did just that and rushed her arms up under the dress, her hands swirling around each person-sized globe in search of more nodes. Having become bigger meant the nodes were now smaller and easier to access; upon finding a node, Shadow Weaver could take a long draw of magic in one go and then reach for another to repeat the process.

Casta continued to be tickled by this method, stuttering with denials that she plainly did not enforce -- she obviously would not stop what was such a thrilling sensation, her breasts seemingly so voluptuous and huge to a woman that desperately wanted to grope and hug them. It was a level of attention Casta had longed for over years, and to have that now with Shadow Weaver, a wise and relentless woman who demanded respect, had plunged her into an ecstasy that satisfied her too well. Her arousal was spinning madly, her legs curling with anticipation as she boiled into a climax.

The moment astonished even Casta herself, who sealed her senses away from Shadow Weaver’s attention. She allowed herself only a long exhale, refreshed by this surreal but fulfilling situation. A faint hand dropped over her bosom, dimly searching for the woman that fondled her with tiny hands. In dry gasps, she asked, “Sh-Shadow… H-Have you, um, finished… yet…?”

Casta’s words were drawn out by the astonishment that swelled within her, breaking out of her post-orgasm trance to see Shadow Weaver standing before her -- as naked as before, but no longer a doll. Nothing like that at all, in fact, for she had taken enough of this magic to restore herself and more. Shadow Weaver did not merely reclaim her natural height, but allowed herself to grow into a statuesque state, more than a meter up on the sorceress still in bed with her dress flung up to her chest. So suddenly had everything changed, where Casta was now the one feebly staring up at a looming Shadow Weaver that sat hunched over her.

“Wh-What happened?!” Casta asked sharply. “Y-You… You’re b-b-bigger…!”

Shadow Weaver cackled, dragging a claw through her black hair so that it was marginally more styled. A sultry glare befell Casta as she sat up higher, still growing at her usual slow pace -- not much longer would she be lowering her head again, having to avoid bumping the dome-shaped ceiling of the bedroom. “When I absorbed enough magic… I was able to restore my body… and with such a rush of power, I just couldn’t help myself adding just a little more to myself…”

Casta swallowed. “Wh-Why…?”

Shadow Weaver giggled, crawling forward so that more of her mass hovered over Casta. She hung overhead so that her breasts were just above Casta, taunting her with their closeness. Her reply was hummed, a tone that frightened her friend as much as it did excite her: “I hoped we might be able to continue this little fun of ours…~”