Her eyes darting between her companion and their attacker, Maribel knew she had to act quickly. Gresha had managed to push the troll several paces back from her own position, leaving Maribel with some breathing room, but given the battle prowess this beast had already displayed, it wouldn’t take him much effort to close the gap between them and launch another strike.
“Even with the two of us, Ugly-Chin is too much to handle,” she surmised. It wasn’t difficult to think of an alternative as her gaze fell on the pack a few feet to her left. “I’ll only have time for a quick sip…maybe. It’s a risk I have to take.”
With no further time to lose, she lunged at the pack, her hands able to reach inside it only a split-second later. Unfortunately, the rapid movement also caused Strog to take notice. “Hey! No more help for the meatsack! You DIE now!”
As Maribel had predicted, Strog reached her in a few strides, raising one of his axes to bring it down onto her kneeling form. Though her back was to him, she saw his shadow cast on the wall she now faced. Lithely, she rolled away at the last moment, evading the troll’s fatal slash and using the remaining momentum to spring to her feet. Strog whirled around to face her once more, flashing a toothy grin when he saw she had dropped her sword in her escape attempt.
“You fast, little meatsack, but nowhere to run now,” he taunted, slowing backing her toward a corner of the room.
Far from his expectation however, Maribel returned a confident smirk, wiping a drop of pink liquid from the corner of her mouth. “Who said anything about running?”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Gresha was still recovering from her latest bout with the troll. His last attack had apparently broken one of her ribs, as she found it difficult to straighten herself upright. Unable to adjust her body enough to scan the room, she managed to spot movement on a nearby wall, where she caught a glimpse of Maribel and Strog’s shadows and heard the jibes they passed back and forth. Maribel’s figure was dwarfed by the imposing swamp creature, who brandished his axes menacingly. Suddenly, Maribel let out a sharp grunt, and Gresha watched with increasingly widened eyes as her silhouette against the rocks began to shudder, then expand, becoming taller and bulkier by the second. The pops and tears of her strained leather armor echoed throughout the chamber as her orc associate spotted them fall away from her torso, which had inflated quite curvaceously even in the approximated visage cast by her shadow. This shadow had now loomed outward to match, even surpass that of the troll, who had apparently taken at least one step back during the event.
Strog, who had indeed done the unthinkable for a troll and put distance between them, stared up in wild disbelief at the newly empowered figure before him. The once fit but still relatively slender body of his opponent had now ballooned into an imposing mass of muscle and flesh, easily eight feet tall. He himself was fairly large for a swamp troll, but she now put even their most legendary warriors to shame. Her blue pigtails had sprouted free if their ties and her full, wavy hair now cascaded gracefully down her back like fierce river rapids.
“Maybe you should take your own advice, shorty,” Maribel advised, her voice now rich and sensuous, losing nearly every last bit of the twinkling tones of a halfling. “If you run, I may even give you a head start.”
Hearing these words had the opposite effect on the simple mind of Strog, whose eyes flared with rage as he gave a bestial roar. Throwing of his weight into a swing if his axe and fully intending to cleave his target in two, his momentum instantly halted as he impacted Maribel’s torso. To his shock however, the blade failed to cleave—in fact, it didn’t seem to do much of anything, now wedged tightly and perfectly between her bulbous boobs.
After taking a full two seconds to recover from his frozen befuddlement (an act he wouldn’t have dreamed he’d ever take in any other battle), he tugged on the axe handle to pull it free, but fell into shock once more when he couldn’t. Maribel began to giggle with glee, watching the formerly imposing warrior struggle against the mere act of flexing her pecs.
“Having trouble? Oopsie, silly me. Here, I’ll help,” she offered, relaxing her chest just as Strog put all his weight and both his hands into yanking the axe free. As a result, he staggered back several steps and fell over on his backside. Another aggravated roar and he was back on his feet, now swinging blindly with both arms. Maribel was ready for him however, lashing out with a beefy arm, grabbing his throat, and slamming him violently into the wall, all in one swift, terrifying motion.
The impact of the troll’s body made an impressive crater as chunks of rock were shattered and fell away. His once intense countenance glazed over, his pupils tilting upward in a dazed expression as he slumped downward, sliding slowly against the wall he was now virtually impaled within. Bending down, Maribel picked up one of his axes, gave it a quick twirl on her fingers for flare, then sent its edge barreling into the wall and straight through Strog’s neck, instantly depriving his body of his head.
Before it could even roll fully to the floor, Maribel grabbed the head by its long her and held it up level with her own with a satisfied smirk. “Who’s the meatsack now?” she quipped, giggling at Strog’s now permanent, vacant face. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Gresha, who had managed to rise to her feet and shuffle over to her,
regarding the now laughably unusually-sized halfling with uncertainty.
“Did you see that, Greshie?” Maribel exclaimed, raising her arms in triumph and excitement. “I totally CRUSHED Ugly-Chin! And look at this body! So biiiig and bouncy! I LOVE it!” She started jumping up and down in giddy delight, demonstrating her description with her bulging tits, which readily obliged.
Gresha’s expression remained slightly inquisitive, but mostly stoic, with a hint of a grimace as she continued clutching her damaged torso. “More ‘well water’?” she inquired wryly.
Maribel’s grin faded, her thoughts becoming more grounded after the high from her exhilarating experience. “Oh, uh…yeah, about that…” she began sheepishly, fishing another healing potion out of her pack, tossing it to the orc, then retrieving the glowing vial next to it she had used moments before. “I actually found out this glowy healing potion does a bit more than just heal. I was going to save the rest of it, but…I didn’t have much choice. I thought it would give me enough to hold him off so we could escape, but I didn’t expect this…isn’t it AWESOME?” she took another approving look down at her superiorly sculpted form, now easily exceeding Gresha’s own naturally large size, and marveled at its latent power. Gresha on the other hand, nodded casually at her companion and glanced at the freshly decapitated troll against the wall, and while she was quite accepting of it (likely willing to do it herself if the opportunity had been there), she considered how odd it was for Maribel, who usually much preferred things to be cleaner, or—unless a kill was necessary—sparing her foes altogether.
Already starting to feel better from the healing potion, she decided to put the thought behind her and gather their prizes. Stowing the statue and the troll head in their pack, the two adventurers made their way out of the cave and back onto the road toward the nearest settlement—Onyx City.
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