The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the forest clearing. Aella stretched her arms above her head, her muscles flexing under the glow of the flames. Her massive curves shifted with the movement, and a loud snap echoed through the air. She froze, her hand instinctively reaching behind her.
“Ah, damn it!” she growled, holding up the now-broken strap of her thong. “Again? This is the third one this month!”
Lyra barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “Maybe you should stop buying cheap ones, Aella. Or better yet, stop pretending you can squeeze into normal-sized anything.”
Aella shot her a glare, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “It’s not my fault they don’t make them for… for—!”
“For goddesses?” Lyra finished with a smirk, clearly enjoying herself.
Mira, ever the mediator, chimed in nervously. “Um, maybe we can find something to fix it? Or buy a new one in the next town?”
Aella sighed, dropping the broken garment onto the ground. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Mira. I’m not hiking into a dragon’s lair without proper support.”
The young man, sitting quietly nearby, felt a cold sweat break out on his tiny forehead. He had been trying to stay unnoticed, but the way Aella’s gaze turned toward him made his heart sink.
“Wait a minute,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You can turn into stuff, right? Like gloves and boots?”
He nodded hesitantly, his voice squeaky. “Y-yes, but—”
Before he could finish, Aella picked him up between her thumb and forefinger, holding him up to her face. “Perfect. You’re going to be my new thong.”
His eyes widened in horror. “What?! No, wait—I don’t think that’s a good idea!”
Lyra burst into laughter, almost doubling over. “Oh, this is too good! Go on, Aella, let’s see if he’s up to the task.”
Mira gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Aella, that’s… that’s so humiliating! You can’t just use him like that!”
Aella waved her off dismissively. “Relax, Mira. He was supposed to be the chosen one, right? Well, now he can be the chosen thong.”
The young man squirmed in her grip, his protests falling on deaf ears. Aella turned him around, inspecting his soft, squishy body. “Alright, little guy, just… do that thing you do. Turn into what I need.”
He wanted to argue, to plead, but the determined look in Aella’s eyes told him there was no point. Reluctantly, he let his body shift and mold, his arms and legs stretching out to form the straps of a thong while the rest of him flattened into a thin, flexible band.
Aella grinned as she felt the transformation complete. “Not bad. Let’s see if it fits.”
She hooked the makeshift thong—which was, in fact, him—around her hips, and the young man felt himself pulled taut against her skin. His face was pressed into the small of her back, his view entirely consumed by the expanse of her massive, sweat-slicked curves. The warmth and pressure were overwhelming, and he could feel every movement of her body as she adjusted the fit.
“Hmm… not bad,” Aella said, flexing her hips experimentally. “Feels pretty sturdy. And I think it’s actually giving me a boost. I feel stronger already.”
Lyra howled with laughter, clutching her sides. “I can’t believe it! He actually works as underwear! This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mira fidgeted nervously, her hands wringing together. “Aella, I really don’t think this is appropriate. What if he’s uncomfortable?”
Aella shrugged, her tone dismissive. “He’ll get used to it. Besides, it’s not like he’s got any other skills. Might as well make himself useful.”
The young man wanted to scream, to protest, but his voice was muffled against Aella’s skin. All he could do was cling to her hips, his tiny form trembling as he tried to process the indignity of his new role.
Lyra leaned in closer, her mischievous grin widening. “Hey, Aella, think he can handle a little test run? You know, to make sure he’s up to the task?”
Aella raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”
Lyra’s grin turned downright devilish. “Nothing too crazy. Just a quick jog around the camp. See if he can keep up with those curves of yours.”
Aella chuckled, patting her hips. “Alright, little guy. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
The young man felt a surge of panic as Aella started to move, her powerful legs carrying her across the clearing in long, deliberate strides. Each step jolted him, his face pressing deeper into her skin. The heat and pressure were unbearable, and he could feel the faintest hint of sweat dampening his tiny body.
Lyra’s laughter echoed behind them, her voice teasing. “Looks like he’s holding on for dear life! Guess he’s not as useless as we thought.”
Mira wrung her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really hope he’s okay…”
Aella slowed to a stop, her breathing barely affected by the exertion. “Not bad. He’s a lot more durable than I expected. Maybe we’ll keep him like this for a while.”
The young man wanted to cry, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He was utterly at the mercy of these towering women, his dignity sacrificed for their convenience.
As Aella adjusted the makeshift thong—him—once more, she smirked down at her hips. “You might not be the chosen one, but you’re definitely the chosen thong. Try not to disappoint.”
Lyra’s laughter rang out again, her voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see what else we can turn him into.”
Mira, still looking uneasy, whispered softly, “I just hope he’s not… you know, too uncomfortable…”
Aella rolled her eyes, her tone firm. “He’ll be fine. Now, let’s focus on the dragon. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
The young man clung to her hips, his tiny body trembling as he tried to brace himself for whatever came next. He was no longer just an awkward summon—he was Aella’s thong, and there was no telling where this bizarre adventure would take him.
The young man’s transformation into a thong left him sandwiched between Aella’s colossal, sweat-slicked ass cheeks, his tiny body stretched to its limits. His legs and arms clung desperately to her hips and thighs, but even as he reached, he could barely wrap around her immense curves. Each movement she made sent waves of pressure crashing over him, her muscular glutes flexing and squeezing him with every step. The warmth radiating from her skin was suffocating, and the faint sheen of sweat made his already precarious grip slippery.
As Aella strode across the camp, her powerful muscles rippled beneath him, jolting his body with each stride. The weight of her enormous ass pressed down on him, forcing his face into the damp crease between her cheeks. He could feel the deep grooves of her muscles tighten and release with every motion, her strength leaving him utterly dwarfed and vulnerable. The scent of her exertion, earthy and sharp, filled his senses, leaving him dizzy and overwhelmed.
His limbs strained to maintain their hold, his fingers and toes digging into her smooth, taut skin, but it was no use—her sheer size made his attempts to cling to her hips and thighs laughably futile. Every flex of her glutes threatened to pop him loose like a rubber band stretched too far. The added pressure of her sweat only made it worse, his tiny form slipping and sliding as she moved.
Aella, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to his struggle, continued her test run with ease. “Not bad,” she remarked, reaching back to adjust the “thong” with a brisk tug that nearly yanked him free. “He’s got a little grip, huh? Good thing, too. Wouldn’t want him slipping off mid-battle.”
The young man’s protests were muffled against her skin, his tiny voice drowned out by the tremor of her laughter and Lyra’s gleeful commentary. He could feel every inch of her dominance, her sheer physicality leaving him no choice but to submit. As Aella strode back toward the campfire, the young man clung as best he could, his face flush with embarrassment and exertion. He was nothing more than a tool—a makeshift garment for a goddess who showed no mercy.
Aella flexed her arms, her muscles rippling with newfound power. “Damn,” she muttered, her tone shifting from amused to genuinely surprised. She punched the air experimentally, the force of the motion creating a faint whoosh. “I feel... stronger. Like, *way* stronger.”
She turned to Lyra, her grin widening. “Guess the little guy—what’s your name again?”
“Max,” came the muffled squeak from between her cheeks.
“Right, Max,” Aella said, reaching back to pat her hips. “Guess he’s actually good for something after all. Must be his magical buffing powers or whatever. Who knew being a thong would bring out his true potential?”
Lyra raised an eyebrow, skeptical yet intrigued. “Seriously? He’s making you stronger? Let’s test it.”
Aella hefted a nearby boulder, one that she’d struggled to lift earlier in the day, and hoisted it overhead with ease. She tossed it aside like it was a pebble, the ground shaking as it landed. “Oh, yeah. Definitely stronger. I could take on a whole dragon *and* its mom right now.”
Max, still squished and struggling for air, felt a pang of pride despite his humiliating predicament. At least he wasn’t completely useless.
“Looks like you’re sticking around, Maxy-boy,” Aella teased, stretching her legs and feeling the tight pull of his tiny form against her skin. “Who knew all you needed was a little compression to unlock your true potential?”
Mira, still wringing her hands, spoke up hesitantly. “Maybe we should... you know, thank him? I mean, he is helping—”
“Thank him?” Lyra interrupted with a snort. “He’s a pair of underwear, Mira. I don’t think he’s expecting gratitude.”
Aella chuckled, her hands resting on her hips. “Don’t worry, Max. I’ll make sure you’re... well, not *too* uncomfortable. But hey, if this works in a fight, you might just earn yourself a promotion. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get to be my gauntlet next time.”
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