Chapter 31 Master.

Chapter 31: 31 Master.

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful because after introducing basic Earth concepts to the new arrival and eating a late lunch, Ayra and Elsa both took a series of extremely long naps.

Ayra blamed her post-portal transit’s side effects for her exhaustion, but I didn’t even bother asking Elsa for an excuse.

They didn’t even get up in time to help me kill the midnight monster, but to be honest, maybe that was for the best.

I figured I could use the break to process everything.

The following morning I woke up to the now routine sensation of Elsa curled against me.

Her long blonde hair tickled my chin like it did every morning.

For about ten seconds, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding my tiny elf princess—before reality came crashing down on me.

Specifically, reality crashed through my kitchen. The sound of destruction downstairs made me sit up so fast I almost launched Elsa across the room.

"What was that?" she mumbled, still half-asleep and adorably grumpy about it.

"Three guesses," I said, already pulling on a shirt. "I’ll give you a hint—she has dog ears."

The sounds grew louder as I headed downstairs—whimpering, clattering, and what sounded like someone trying to sweep up their own dignity.

I rounded the corner into my kitchen and found exactly what I expected: a fucking mess.

Ayra stood in the middle of my formerly clean kitchen, wearing nothing but the oversized t-shirt I’d loaned her last night.

Flour coated every surface like fresh snow. Egg shell pieces covered the counter. Something in a pan was sending up worrisome black smoke.

"Master!" she yelped when she spotted me, her tail immediately disappearing between her legs. "I attempted to prepare breakfast as tribute, but the cooking implements here are so foreign and strange! I fear I did not succeed!"

I rushed to shut off the stove before my smoke alarm could do its thing.

Opening windows to clear the air, I surveyed the damage. Nothing was actually broken—just extremely messy.

"It’s fine," I assured her. "Not everyone’s born knowing how to cook."

Her ears flattened against her head. "I’ve failed my first attempt to serve you properly." She immediately dropped the broom and bent over the kitchen table. "I suppose my vicious Master will want to punish me for my incompetence! Very well! I will endure the shame and the pain, but know this—I will resist in my heart! Pah-tooey!"

"Nope, nope, nope," I said quickly, grabbing her shoulders before she could perform her signature move. "No spitting indoors, please, and no punishments needed. The thought was nice. Maybe just let me handle breakfast for now? You’ve got plenty of time to figure out how it all works."

She straightened up, looking equal parts disappointed and relieved. "As Master commands."

But then she suddenly looked past me and pointed at the stairs in disbelief. "The Princess awakens by herself!"

she suddenly announced, her whole demeanor shifting. "And so early! We must praise her!"

I turned to find Elsa in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts as a nightgown and sporting bedhead that somehow looked intentional.

She surveyed my flour-bombed kitchen with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

"I see the canine has redecorated," she observed, her voice dripping with judgment.

"I’ll clean everything!" Ayra volunteered eagerly.

"After breakfast," I interrupted, already grabbing eggs that hadn’t been sacrificed to the kitchen gods. "Both of you sit. Let someone who knows what they’re doing handle this."

As I made breakfast, my brain shifted to practical matters. "We need to get Ayra some clothes," I said, plating scrambled eggs. "But I can’t exactly parade another non-human through Millfield without raising questions."

"Why not?" Ayra asked through a mouthful of toast. "Is my appearance offensive?" Her hand went to one ear self-consciously.

"No, you’re cute as a button," I said. "It’s just that humans aren’t used to seeing people with, uh, extra features."

"We shall utilize your so-called online delivery services," Elsa declared. "As you suggested we do for me initially."

"Should’ve done that in the first place," I admitted. "I’ll need to measure you, Ayra. Make sure we get the right sizes."

Elsa’s expression darkened instantly. "My garments would surely fit her adequately. She’s barely larger than myself."

"She’s like five inches taller," I pointed out. "And built a little thicker, too. Won’t take long."

"Fine," Elsa sighed heavily. "Though I suppose she cannot continue wearing your shirts indefinitely." She fixed Ayra with an icy look. "You understand, naturally, that Grey assists you from necessity, not desire."

Ayra nodded quickly. "Of course, Princess! Master’s actions stem from the necessity of duty alone. I know he loathes me as a wretch and wishes only for my suffering at his cruel hands."

I watched this exchange with mounting concern. Was Elsa actually jealous?

Then again, adding a dog-girl who kept flashing her ass had definitely shifted the dynamic.

After breakfast, I dug out a measuring tape from my study. "Alright, let’s get this done so we can order your stuff."

Ayra followed me to the living room with Elsa trailing behind. I unrolled the tape, suddenly realizing how awkward this was about to get.

"So, uh, I need to measure your bust, waist, and hips," I explained, feeling Little Grey (not that little, mind you) strain like he was trying to peek out of my pajama pants for a better view of the proceedings.

"Understood!" Ayra chirped. Before I could blink, she was pulling the borrowed shirt over her head.

"Wait!" I yelped, lunging forward. "Keep the shirt on! I can measure over it!"

She looked genuinely confused. "But wouldn’t skin contact provide superior accuracy?"

"It’ll be fine," I insisted. "I just need to... get the tape under in a few spots."

Ayra nodded, looking vaguely disappointed. Honestly, if Elsa wasn’t shooting daggers with her eyes, I might have let the dog-girl have her way.

I approached cautiously, starting with the safe measurement—shoulders.

"Arms out," I instructed, moving to the danger zone.

Getting the tape around her chest meant my hands inevitably brushed the sides of her breasts. Ayra inhaled sharply, and her amber-gold eyes went wide.

"Sorry," I muttered, trying to work fast. "Thirty-four."

"No apologies necessary, Master," she breathed. "Your cruel, rough touch is something I must learn to bear."

From the doorway, Elsa made a sound that reminded me of an angry cat.

The waist measurement was mercifully straightforward. "Okay, got it," I noted, then braced myself for the final challenge.

"Last one," I said, crouching to measure her hips. This put my face uncomfortably close to regions I was trying hard not to think about.

As I wrapped the tape around, my hand accidentally grazed her backside.

Ayra gasped and immediately dropped to her knees, assuming the position.

"My lewd body has made Master uncomfortable!" she declared. "No doubt my cruel overlord will demand discipline from my slutty form! How dreadful! Pah-tooey!"

I sighed deeply. Elsa stood in the doorway looking thoroughly done with everything.

"Just give her what she wants," she suggested tiredly. "She won’t cease until you do."