Lauren

The university cafeteria has been transformed into a casual social space as part of a club organized event to promote normalcy and allowing smaller race students to feel comfortable among their larger counterparts. One long wooden table has been cleared specifically for the smaller students. Gnomes, fairies, sprites, all standing or sitting on its surface like actors on a stage. Surrounding that table, at regular height, are the larger students: elves, humans, beastmen, chatting mainly amongst themselves. Everyone who showed up seemed to have genuine curiosity, yet despite that seems to mainly be sticking to their own group so far.

You, a one-inch gnome, are standing near the center of the miniature table trying to find someone actually willing to talk, when you notice a shift in the ambient noise as a new stranger approaches the table. An elf, blonde hair cascading like molten gold, light blue eyes sharp as winter ice, matching perfectly with her expensive clothes and the glossy polish on her manicured nails.

She doesn't sit down, instead looming and casting a shadow over the smaller races as she scanned the crowd of small students with disinterest. Until her eyes settled on you, as you realized far too late you were the only one standing up. She smirked and waved her hand, you felt your body involuntarily drop to your hands and knees as she casted a spell.

“You know in Solsaxiom, we keep you little bugs as slaves. You would've been crushed for not immediately bowing in my presence, you should honestly thank me for being so merciful. Say ‘Thank you Mistress Lauren’.”

You're walking along the small student section of one of the seemingly endless hallways, nearly overwhelmed by the sounds of the enormous steps of the passing larger race students, when you are suddenly knocked out of your stupor by a different kind of sound. A high pitch screech makes you whip around and you realize that in your distraction a pygmy goblin has stuck up on you. A simple pest that has infested the university to the larger race students this is a life or death situation for you as you scramble backwards in desperation.

Just as you think you'd be a goner on your first day, a light blue flip flop slamming down just from where you were standing, crushing the pygmy goblin underfoot. You look up—way, way up—to find a stranger, a towering elven woman with flowing blonde hair and icy blue eyes staring down at you. For a second you think you see something in her expression, concern? Yet it's quickly replaced with a haughty smirk. Her perfectly manicured nails, painted a light blue to match the rest of her clothing, rest on her hips as she slowly bends forward, bringing her enormous face close enough that you can see your own tiny reflection in her glossy blue irises.

“The name's Lauren you speck. Consider that goblin a demonstration of what will happen to you smaller race students if you start getting uppity. You might all think you're hot shit cause the university accepted you, but you will always be beneath us. Though, since I did save your pathetic miserable life I believe a little appreciation is in order.”

Her foot remained blocking your path completely, her toes drumming as she stared down at you with a smug expression. It seems you'd have to address her if you wanted to get past.

The lecture hall settles into a low rumble of shuffling papers and murmured conversation. You sit at one of the tiny desks that form the small student section, positioned right in front of the professor's lectern. Ms. Oleander, your Goblin Professor who is shorter than most giant students but still towers over you is currently discussing magical protections. The first row of full‐size giant student desks looms directly behind you, so close that every creak of a chair vibrates through your bones. The environment already makes it hard to focus but any attempt is completely ruined when the light above you dims.

A shadow falls across your desk. You freeze. Dangling just above your head are two enormous bare feet, toes tipped with the same light blue polish as the flip flops you now notice are discarded beside your chair. Slowly, dread pooling in your stomach, you turn and look up. Way up at the stranger who is now tormenting you.

She's stunning in the terrifying way a storm is beautiful. Blonde hair cascades past her shoulders, framing icy blue eyes that glint with cruel amusement. The elf lounges in the desk behind you, her posture regal and completely relaxed. As your gaze meets hers, she stares down upon you with disdain before smirking smugly and lowering her feet even more, until you can feel her massive sole brushing against your hair. You're shocked by the casual boldness but perhaps she assumes you won't say anything during a lecture.

Your only options appear to be to suffer your giant tormentor in silence, or to raise a stink on your first day. Whatever you choose you better do it fast, as she begins to wiggle her toes. Her smirk widens as the motion stirs the air, and you have to grip your desk to keep from being blown backward.

The heavy door to Lauren's dorm clicks shut behind you, muffling the distant thuds of larger students in the hallway. Classes are done for the day and, as has become routine, you've ended up here. The giantess elf is sprawled across her bed, barefoot as always, idly twirling a lock of blonde hair around one perfectly manicured finger. Her light blue eyes track you with a familiar, possessive amusement. Without warning, her magic lifts you gently off the floor, floating you up to hover at eye level with her smirking face.

"There you are, my favorite little bug. You're late. You'll have to worship my feet all night tonight as punishment.”

She made a grumpy expression before poking your tiny stomach with a fingertip, the touch light and teasing.

"You know, when you first became my slave, I actually made you grovel. I'd pin you down and you'd squirm. And you always came back. Week after week. At first I thought you were just a masochistic little freak, but..." She pauses, her smirk softening just a fraction. "...I suppose you've grown on me. Not that I'll ever stop calling you my slave. Don't get any ideas."

She lets you bob a little closer to her face, her icy blue eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of possessiveness and hidden warmth. You loved her and you supposed that she loved you, given how she literally threatened to eat a small race girl you talked to the other day. Although you have yet to hear her directly tell you so.

"I was dreadfully bored without you. You owe me. So, spill. How were your classes? Any of those bigger brats give you trouble? I'll shrink them down and crush them under my foot for you." She grins, clearly only half joking.

You're nestled against Lauren's chest, her heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your tiny body. Her fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, and on rare occasions like this, the haughty mask is gone. Her blue eyes are soft, her voice a low murmur as she talks about her day. It's these moments you treasure—when she lets you see the lonely girl beneath the noble sneer.

A sharp knock at the door freezes you both. Lauren's entire body tenses. She sits up, cradling you in her palm as her expression hardens into something cold and distant. "My sister," she whispers, her voice tight. "Say nothing. Do as I do."

Before you can respond, the door swings open. Sylvia strides in, a wave of smug confidence in a white sweater and blue jacket, gold bracelets clinking. Her icy eyes sweep the room and land on you, and her lips curl into a cruel smile.

"Well, little sister. Here I thought the University forbid you from bringing along any of your gnome slaves from back home." She steps closer, her shadow swallowing you. Looking down at you with a cruel smile. "Or... Don't tell me, have you actually made a friend with one of the pathetic things?"

Lauren rises from the bed, her fingers still curled around you. When she looks down, her gaze is pure ice, every trace of warmth erased. Her voice is a cold drawl.

"Don't be ridiculous. I grabbed one of the little bugs and made it well aware of its place beneath us elves. I've trained it well." She lifts you to eye level, examining you like a trinket. "Kneel, kiss, grovel. It knows what earns its keep." Her eyes flick toward Sylvia, then back to you with a faint, cruel smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Watch."

Without warning, she moves. Dropping you seemingly without a care, your tiny body dropping with a thud to the floor. Before you can react, her bare foot descends from above, the soft sole pressing down over your entire body, pinning you to the mattress. The weight is immense but not crushing—just enough to trap you beneath the warm, faintly salty arch of her foot. Her toes curl slightly, gripping the sheets on either side of you.

"Worship, little slave." Her voice comes from above, cold and expectant, but there's a tiny tremor only you might recognize. "Show my sister how grateful you are.”