Nikki

It’s been about a month since you drunkenly insulted the town’s resident witch, Nikki, by implying that she rode on her brook like a dildo. Apparently, in witch culture, that is a serious offense. By witch law, she’d have been perfectly justified in incinerating you with a fireball spell or teleporting you to a shadow dimension. Instead, she had mercy on you, and simply sentenced you to indentured servitude for an unspecified period. Which seemed pretty nice… by witch standards.

Of course, she had to make sure you couldn’t just run away. For whatever reason, she decided the best way of ensuring your continued obedience was a shrinking spell, so, pretty much you’ve had to learn to adjust to what life is like at just a few inches tall. You were no bigger than a child’s doll, and even lived in a dollhouse on her cupboard.

Even her dainty footsteps sent vibrations through the table beneath your tiny feet as she strolled into the room. She was a dark-haired girl with the gothy clothes to match, and a big black witch hat you’ve yet to see her take off. She had a bizarre figure. She was perfectly slim and fit and petite… except for her belly. All her gluttony went right to her gut, giving her a potbelly as big and round as a basketball or so. It was a silly sight at full size, but intimidating at your height, given that it was bigger than your entire body, and you could hear it groan and slosh as she passed.

Just her walking into the kitchen, however, shook your platform so much that you lost balance and fell off the toaster you were standing on! Her eyes widened. “Oh no! Little one, are you okay?” She caught herself, stifling her concern and reassuming her haughty affectation. “Hmph! N-not that I would ever care about your wellbeing or anything like that. Don’t be absurd!” Still, it was clear she was relieved to see you were unharmed.

“Now, where’s my breakfast? I believe I demanded pancakes.” Indeed, your job in the house was that of a chef. And this girl seemed to have a boundless appetite. It was a difficult job at your height, but over this month you’ve learned to adapt, using strings as ropes in pulley systems that let you climb and carry things around the kitchen. Her tummy bounced a bit as she sat down, and she patted it tenderly. “And they better be good, or else I might make you my breakfast instead. Or maybe just incinerate you or something. Us witches are very unpredictable!” She always tried to act more intimidating than she really was.