Small Sins: Collection

A halfling thief crept through the halls of a cave, slipping from shadow to shadow, avoiding the light of fancy magical lights and naturally occurring glowing crystal as he navigated the mazelike cavern.

Adding to the difficulty was that each passage was enormous, big enough for an immense beast to pass easily, without brushing up against the fancy chandeliers incongruously worked into the ceiling.

Great gouges were torn in the rough stone floor, and the halfling thief slipped past them carefully.

He passed dozens of large rooms, furnished lavishly but with a distinct lack of style, mismatched art, and statuary and furniture and thick piles of carpets tossed about almost haphazardly.

Britchard Orril was a skilled thief and 'intrusion specialist', but even for him, a dragon's hoard was a risky target.

The door didn't look high-security, a grille of wrought iron, locked by a gold-plated locking system with a dial.

But Britchard had state-of-the-art penetration tools, and he didn't need the small gem on his wristwatch glowing bright enough to almost blind, to tell him the thing was suffused with enough magic to vaporize him or worse, if he fucked up.

Fortunately, the client had offered a truly ridiculous payment for this job, and paid half up-front, which had funded a significant upgrade to his kit.

He strapped a cold-iron gauntlet over one hand, and got to work.

The wand of aspen, chased with silver, that he drew from his belt was meant for a mage, but it served well enough with a couple of quartz lacrima wired to it with copper, to hold several useful spells.

He tapped it against the lock, and waited.

With the iron gauntlet between him and the wand, he couldn't actuate the magic directly, so he had to wait until the loaded spells reacted to the presence of their target.

One by one, the lacrima went dark.

And the shroud of crackling energy setting the small thief on edge faded, pulling back, and then it was merely a matter of physically cracking the lock.

Child's play, even with the cold iron fouling his dexterity a little.

A small price to pay to be safe from any clever traps left under the main wards.

[]

The hoard was shockingly well organized, with hundreds of ornate wooden shelves and tables and casks laid out in a visually disordered yet considered arrangement that meant Britchard could find his way relatively easily, once he worked out the organization principles.

Amongst the gold and jewels and such, were the occasional bit of pottery, statuary and paintings, and even the skull of some long-ago beast, maybe a proto-dragon.

Britchard had a target though.

He found a table placed in the center of the hoard, lit from all sides to display its contents.

Row upon row of lifelike sculptures of nude women, made of fine porcelain and gold and more precious materials, representing many body types and shapes and species, all of them finely worked with lifelike detail. His breath caught in his throat.

One was a beautifully crafted porcelain doll in the shape of the Duchess Venkast, who the Dragoness had kidnapped. The doll was naked and shockingly detailed, porcelain face caught in an expression of ecstasy.

He reached for it...

And he heard a voice.

"Well well well, looks like a little thief slipped in!"

[]

"So, thief, what do you have to say for yourself?" she asked, her voice deep and melodic.

The dragon was about the height of a Human, surprisingly small for a creature that had made every neighboring country step carefully around the Wyrnholt Range for fear of her.

She stood about two meters, dark, jewel-tone green scales covering a surprisingly curvy body, brighter-green wings folded over her otherwise naked form like a cloak.

Her face was human-shaped. Presumably part of her current shape, as her ordinary form was quite reptilian.

He'd seen photographs of her in flight, engaging with the comparatively tiny biplanes and triplanes of the various local kingdoms' rough aerial militia, from a few years back when duchess Venkast had had the enterprising but ultimately foolish thought that machine guns on airplanes were a good way to beat Avris the Green.

Avris had leveled half her palace and made off with the duchess in the night after that, and now nobody flew anywhere near the Wyrnholt.

A tail lashed behind her, and hanging in front was what Brichard initially took to be another tail, until he realized it was issuing forth from her crotch, and, despite the barbed shapes on the long, conical tip, and its unusual length and slimness, it was recognizable as a distinctive, peculiar phallus.

Britchard smelled a peculiar scent, musk and spice and a bit of sulfur, but ignored it as he tossed his wand to his bare hand, the lacrima lighting up brilliantly as he dumped magic from his, remedially small, reserves into it and a cloud of steam coalesced out of the air.

He turned and bolted.

The dragoness tsked. "They always try to run!" she called out, "And it never works, so why don't you save the effort and come quietly?"

Brichard didn't answer, catching the vault door with his gauntleted hand and swinging his small weight around it, spinning around and sending another eruption of steam behind to cover his movement.

The lacrima were visibly dim, and he felt the faint ache in the back of his head that meant he was running low on magic.

He bolted down the halls.

And something erupted from behind him, a breath of wind that wasn't wind, a faint smell of ozone, a tidal wave of magic, leaving the mist he'd raised untouched and washing over him.

For a moment, he felt relief as the spell seemed to wash past, but then, he felt an intense pressure slam into him, like a sudden change in air pressure, as the spell washed inwards.

The gauntlet began to glow red-hot as magic slammed into it, and he hurriedly tore off the straps, leaving the red-hot metal to puddle behind him on the stone floor as the leather lining erupted in foul-smelling smoke.

He staggered, dropped to his knees as weakness accompanied the spell.

He felt like he was falling, his clothes and gear shifting, growing looser and looser, the entire passageway seeming to grow further and further away.

The pressure increased until he felt like he was unable to breathe, and finally, his vision went dark.

[]

He came to a moment later, in darkness. Lying somewhere soft that smelled like sweat.

A faint light showed a way out. He stood, and became aware that he was naked.

He felt around in a panic, but couldn't find any of his gear. "Dammit!" he shouted, his voice going dead in the air. "Gonna have to inform the client I couldn't get the thing out." he grumbled.

He made for the light.

The passage was made of fabric, that moved when he pushed on it, and when he stepped out into the slightly cooler air outside, he saw a vast stone floor, with little hillocks and a deep crevasse nearby, and when he looked up, he saw a vaulted ceiling far overhead. More to the point, he heard stomping, the ground trembling under his feet.

He stepped back into the opening and peered around it, and stared.

It took him a moment to realize that now, that wasn't a towering, immense replica of his cargo pouch, it was his pouch, he wasn't in some fantastic replication of his clothing, he was in the sleeve of his shirt.

And the Dragoness stepping from the mist, wings extended, revealing her curves as she contemptuously fanned the mist away wasn't a kilometer high with a dick taller than a building, he was just very, very small.

He estimated maybe four centimeters as he cowered back in the sleeve of his clothes.

That spicy, sweaty smell washed over him, much more intense at this size, as the dragoness crouched over his hiding place.

"They always run. Why do I bother complaining?" she grumbled, her voice like thunder at Britchard's reduced size, and his clothing suddenly shifted out from under him, and he fell, landing in a surprisingly soft, scaled palm, staring up at the towering dragoness as she raised him to her face.

Her golden eyes loomed like a pair of moons.

Britchard covered himself self-consciously.

Avris the green frowned. She drew in a breath, sniffing the air.

"Hmm, no, needs a modification." she rumbled, and her hand closed over Britchard, enclosing him in hot, spicy-smelling darkness.

He blushed as he felt his member react by hardening.

[]

He was unceremoniously dumped into a tall, crystal space, like a narrow tube, and shrieked as he fell, though, despite the hardness of the substance the tube was made from, he didn't hit it very hard.

The dragoness loomed over him as the tube was affixed to some complex metal frame that held it vertical.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.

"Well." the dragoness aid, rummaging around under the... table? he was currently set on.

"I am not much interested in men. But as it happens, you're kinda cute, so I'm adding you to my other hoard. But you need to uh... yes. Here we go." she said, standing up, a vial of some pink glowing potion in hand.

"But you need to match my criteria for addition to the hoard. This'll help. And I have a feeling you'll be amenable, miss Orril." she said.

Britchard blinked. How did she know his name?

"Just gotta..." she poured water into a beaker, and allowed a few drops of the glowing pink to fall in, coloring the fluid as she swirled the beaker around to mix it.

"...Dilute it some, and..." she poured it into Britchard's current prison, a sheet of fluid washing over him and forcing him to hold his breath until it reached his chin, at which point she stopped.

His body tingled and buzzed like he'd somehow slept wrong on his everything, and he glanced down, watching as his body shifted and changed.

Two lumps erupted from his chest, growing to sizes that were, proportionally, just a hair shy of ridiculous, and the tube he was in was suddenly a lot closer as his hips expanded out alongside his new chest.

What the fu..." he began to say, and his voice cracked, shifting into a high, breathy register.

His prison was raised, and the dragoness looked through it, at Britchard.

"What did you DO to me?" Britchard shouted, blinking at her new voice.

The dragoness grinned. "Well, you seemed so fascinated by my collection, I thought you might be interested in seeing how it's made!" she said, carefully tipping her out of the tube onto her desk, leaving her lying awkwardly in a puddle of fluid.

Avris turned to racks of vials full of odd liquids, and rummaged through drawers collecting a number of small, strange tools.

Then she turned back to Brichard, and studied her.

"Hmm." she said. The tiny, transformed thief sat up, and looked around, for an escape, but the dragoness reached out, faster than Birchard could react, and pressed her down on the table with a single scaled finger.

She set a shining golden pin on the table next to her, and picked up a small eye lens which she tucked into one eye.

"Alright. Time for a new addition, but how do I want you to be posed?" she said, mostly to herself.

"she brought her other hand in, casually rubbing Britchard's new breasts. She squeaked as they sent a jolt through her. They were shockingly sensitive.

"What do you want?" Britchard squeaked plaintively.

Avris the green raised an eyebrow ridge. "Oh, I have exactly what I want. You didn't find it strange that you were hired to penetrate a Dragon's hoard, less than a month after she tore the hell out of another nation trying to horn in on her territory?

Or did the size of the up-front payment knock all that sense out of your head?" she asked. She lifted her finger off of her, and picked up a tiny perfume bottle made of pink glass with a bulb on one side, and pointed it at Britchard.

She squeezed the bulb. There was a hiss, and a smell like sweat and musk, and she coughed as a faint mist drifted down onto her.

A wave of heat washed through the transformed thief, and she felt weak, as blood rushed to her dick and her nipples hardened.

"The problem with being feared," the dragoness continued, "Is that depending on the kind of thing you hoard, you may find it more difficult to build your hoard if nobody want to come near you.

Mevaur the Gold doesn't have any trouble with his hoard because he owns a bank and offers credit, and so people are happy to have him around. Neveran the Sable may be feared by many, but others revere him for the fact he hoards living plants, and even aid him in adding to his hoard. Me though..." Avris said, frowning.

Britchard's heart pounded, and she found herself panting, her skin felt like it was buzzing with a need to be touched, and she found it hard to listen to the Dragoness's words.

"Once people stopped poking at the mountain, I stopped having excuses to pick up new additions to my collection.

Then you were kind enough to accept my generous commission, and were even honest enough to actually attempt to go through with it!" Avris said, grinning.

Britchard sat up, struggling to get to her feet through a wave of exhaustion.

Avris smirked at her, and poked her, pressing her down against the table. She picked up a small container of some kind of oil, and poured it over Britchard in a thin drizzle. It had a faint sting to it, a fizzing sensation that tickled, and sent a shock of pleasure through her as it dripped over her changed body.

"Three other thieves took the up-front payment and ran, but you? You invested in some pretty slick enchanted gear and came right in!" Avris said, picking up the gold pin.

"This might sting a little." she said, and brushed a thumb over Britchard's dick. She gasped as the touch sent another jolt of pleasure through her, enhanced by whatever it was she had been sprayed with, and the tingling oil.

Then Avris poked her in the leg with the pin. There was a sharp, pleasant sting, and then the leg began to go numb.

Avris wrapped her hand around Britchard and picked her up.

"The world's most honest thief! I have quite a collection, but they're mostly queens or princesses or knights, whose honor is, shall we say, dubious. But you might end up being the pride of my collection! The most unique piece I have ever had!" she giggled, and picked her up, laying a flat wooden plate on the table and standing her up on it.

Britchard slumped but Avris rubbed her thumb up her front catching her dick and her tits in the same motion, causing the shrunken, transformed halfling to gasp and arch her back into the touch.

"There we go, stand up straight! Don't want to spend eternity slumped over!" Avris said, carefully supporting the tiny halfling thief with two fingers.

She brought her other hand up, carefully stimulating the shrunken thief with a single finger.

Britchard gasped as Avris, now focused on her, took her tiny dick in between her fingers and began stroking in earnest, occasionally running a free finger up and down her bare back or rubbing her new tits.

Heat built and built in her core, both a familiar building pressure between her legs and a more unfamiliar sensation of heat building in her stomach and crackling out to her fingertips.

She barely noticed the spreading numbness in her left leg as the Dragoness worked her over, at least until it hit her left hip.

When a finger brushing the blade of her widened hip failed to elicit the same thrill it had a moment ago, she opened her eyes and glanced down, to see shining gold spreading up and down her leg.

Then Avris redoubled her efforts on her dick, and applied more focused pressure to her tits, distracting her with a shock of pleasure.

The rising heat seemed to shift as the numbness spread up her left side, growing more and more intense.

"Oh yes, you're looking good now. You'll be the pride of my collection, little thief!" Avris said.

She let go of Britchard, and she found herself stiff as the dragoness reached for the oil and dripped a little more onto her, the sting sending another, far more intense jolt through her.

"C'mon, c'mon, patience. Not too early, now. Gotta go at just the right time." Avris said, slowing down her ministrations, leaving the little thief feeling on edge.

Britchard began to whine as the pressure built and built, and the numbing sensation spread, locking her left arm in a splayed-out position, and a thread of numbness crossed her midriff and began to spread along her other side.

Her neck began to freeze up, and she felt it begin to hit the base of her dick, and the sensation threatened to drain all the pleasure out of her.

Avris sped up, and leaned din, Britchard opening her eyes again in time to see the immense dragoness coming towards her, mouth open, tongue lolling out.

She gave her a single, hot, wet lick, and all of the building pleasure blasted through her like an electric current, her dick spurting again and again, her face held in an open-mouthed, silent shriek as the gold spread, and finally, all sensation vanished, locking her as a tiny golden figurine.

Avris licked the tiny spurt of pale white off her hand, and studied the oil-slick golden figure.

"Pretty good, if I do say so myself, though the subject was pretty good already."

she picked up the tiny figure and turned away from the lab table and approached another table, sorting through a number of objects.

"Hmmm, no, no, maybe, no, wait." she picked up an unfinished music box made of dark wood.

"Yes. Perfect." she said, and set about affixing the tiny figure to the rotating top of it, grinning.

"You will be perfect." she said.

Britchard didn't say anything.

[]

A day later, Avris carefully set the music box with the tiny golden figurine of the shrunken thief on the table amongst the other figures, where she sat, gleaming in the light of the display. One more addition to the collection of Avris the Green.