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Dom Quotes Season 2

Master Coles Crack Cleaner

"Fuuuckkk yeah...tongue that musky hole! Nothing better than a little submissive boy licking up my post gym sweat as I bounce on his face. Aww, are you struggling with the taste buddy? What did you think my hairy jock ass was going to taste like after leg day. Got another big fart coming up for you buddy, get your nose up close to my hole!! Let my ripe ass hairs tickle it as you dig deep for my fart. 3..2...1..Aww...fuck yeah that was a big one!" As Master Cole coats your tongue with his protein fart your hands start to slip from his beefy cheeks. After 20 minutes of lasting under his ass, his fart is what made you lose your grip. All you remember hearing is his laugh as his mighty cheeks clamped around your face and his hole around your tongue, securing your face in place with no way out. No, you just lay under his musky ass, hoping that he'd spare you from farts and allow you air before passing out.

Image from @Colecolossus on twitter

Dom Qoutes (Season 3+): Harness Of Regret

"Really boy? You thought it'd be easy? That once you passed out in my boxer covered ass you'd be free? Nah, you agreed to the whole session, so quit the whining and stay still. Get your nose up tight to my asshole and start sniffing my farts. It's your purpose right now and in life going forward. Inhale my toxic protein farts and say thank you after each one. They are gifts that you should be grateful for. And if you continue to disobey me, I will shake my cheeks and tighten the harness until that cute little nose of yours is deep in my pucker with no escape. Here's the.....first....fart...ahhh, that was a bassy one. What do you say?" Bryan's laugh echoes in the room as your nostrils burn from his scent. Waiting for your answer, he shakes his ass and your head rocks in his hairy crack. "Th...Thank you, sir!" You say defeated as the next fart starts to hiss.

*Collab with the amazing @BryanGraham09 on twitter*

An Overbearing Flatmate - #2

Mack expects Cole to clean his feet after he gets home from work.

Cole unlaced Mack's work boots, wincing as dirt smeared across his fingertips. They were robust, scuffed affairs, all worn leather and thick soles, big enough to cover Cole's chest. The giant indulged him as he got to work, lifting his leg so Cole could tug at his ankle.

"Come on, bud. Put your back into it." Cole struggled to pull off a massive boot with a pop. The acrid smell of Mack's sweat filled the room. The man chuckled, flexing his toes. "One down." He picked up the TV remote. A burly hand landed on Cole's head as he went to turn around. "You've got work to do, bud. I already had my shift. Now it's your turn. That's the rule." Reluctantly, Cole turned back down, and a second boot landed between his thighs. Mack ruffled his hair as he got back to work.

"Lift your leg a bit, sir. I can't get your boot off." Mack planted his boot on Cole's chest. "That wasn't what I meant." His complaints fell on deaf ears. He scowled and pulled, feeling the stiff rubber pressing against his chest. With a pop, Mack's boot slid off, leaving a dirty bootprint stamped across his chest. His hands were muddy, too. He looked up and Mack snorted. "Fine. You can go wash your hands off. Keep the shirt on. Grab me a beer while you're at it." Cole scowled at him. Mack settled back into the armchair as he scurried off. The asshole hadn't moved an inch by the time Cole was back. He passed up the man's beer. "Ta, bud." A pop and a hiss. Cole kneeled back down. A finger click. Cole frowned at him. "Give me a shoe." Cole passed it up, and a big hand settled in his hair, a second holding an oversized shoe in front of him. Mack grinned down at him. "You want to guess where your face is going next?"

"You don't have to be a sadist about it. Get it over with." An eyebrow raised. "Uh - please. Sir."

"Better. But I'm still the one in control here." With an affectionate smile, Mack slowly held it up to Cole's face. The foul smell got steadily worse. He tried to twist his head away, but Mack's fingers tightened effortlessly in his hair. All he could do was watch as Mack forced him into stinking darkness. He held his breath in an empty act of rebellion, but his lungs didn't last. He had to inhale. Mack chuckled. "There we go. How rank is that?" Cole coughed into the foul darkness. There was nothing he could do. Mack hauled him in by the collar into his lap. He crossed his arms. The giant settled in with one hand pinning his boot to Cole's face and the other wrapped around his stomach in gentle possession, chest rising and falling beneath Cole's head. "Don't fall asleep now, bud. You're barely getting started." Cole grumbled at him from inside his stinking prison. Mack finally let him out, giving him a playful shove off the chair and back between his feet. Cole shook himself off. A giant foot landed back on his chest.

"I don't even get a break?"

"Don't be lazy." Mack exerted slow, deliberate pressure, forcing him slowly to the floor. Cole winced, and the pressure lightened, only to return as Mack's foot moved up, drawing closer to his face. Damp and sweaty, Mack's socks covered his mouth, suffocating him. "Sniff." He couldn't do anything else. The second foot joined the first. Colossal soles bore down. A relaxed sigh above him. "Alright, pup. You stay there for a minute." A foot pressed on his chest once more. Mack removed his socks, one after the other. Cole grimaced. His next ordeal couldn't be far off.

"You can get to deal with these later." Mack tossed his socks to the side. Cole found himself facing two massive, foul-smelling feet. Rough and broad. As Mack lowered one over his face, his vision went dark. Cole dragged his tongue over rough skin, wincing as salt and sharpness hit his tongue. He stopped as a strange texture hit his tongue. "Behave yourself." The man shifted, heel pressing into Cole's face. Reluctantly, he ran his tongue over rough flesh. Mack's heel, then his arch. He hesitated at the ball. "Cole." A note of warning. Cole folded. Mack's feet were always worse at his toes. The taste, the filth, the stench. It was all overpoweringly masculine. Today, though, he was lucky. Before he got too deep, the giant switched feet. He was mercifully free from the brute's toes. Finally, Mack's feet landed on either side of his chest. He laid back. There was a brief moment of reprieve. Cole stretched and gazed upwards, taking in the stillness. Mack switched the channel and lay back down. Cole glanced from side to side, then sat up. Bad idea. Mack's head snapped back down. "Boy."

"Uh. I thought I was done."

"I give you thirty seconds of break, and you think you're done? You call this clean? Get your tongue between my toes. Suck 'em till they shine. Lazy little fucker." Mack stopped being gentle. Giant feet tracked sweat and stink over Cole's face, damp toes forcing themselves into his mouth. "Clean. Now." Cole reluctantly got to work. Mack's irritation was slow to fade. Finally, Mack pulled his toe out of Cole's mouth.

"What do you say?" Cole wiped his mouth.

"Thank you, sir."

"Look me in the eye. What are you thankful for?"

"Uh. Your feet."

"What about them?" Cole winced.

"Uh. They're filthy? They stink?"

"And you fucking love it." Cole whined as a colossal foot filled his vision again. "You can stay there for a few minutes. Sort out that attitude." It was an unpleasantly arousing situation. The oppressive stench of sweat and heat drove him down. He tapped hesitantly at Mack's ankle, only to have a second foot subdue his wrist. He resigned himself to an extended stay. Mack finally shifted his foot down to his chest, lifting the weight on his face enough for him to breathe a sigh of relief. "Learned your lesson?"

"Uh. Yessir." A stern look. "Sorry."

"Hmm." A moment longer. Cole fidgeted beneath him. "I accept your apology." He made no attempt to move his foot. "I'm ordering Chinese. You want anything after you finish your work?"

"Come on, sir. Chinese doesn't get along with you. We sleep in the same bed." A dangerous look. Cole shut his mouth.

"Sorry. Satay chicken. Special fried rice if it's the same place as last time. Me-sized, please."

"Hmph." A toe shoved its way back into his mouth, pinning him back to the floor. "I'm making that rice a proper size." A pause. "You know what? It can all be my size. A man your size doesn't need his own." There was no real point in saying anything else. Anyway, a vast, stinking foot had settled back over his face, and the massive toes in his mouth didn't lend themselves to clear communication. Finally, Mack pulled out. Cole's spit shone on his skin. The brute grunted. "Alright, boy. You're done." Cole shook himself off, grimacing. Mack clicked his fingers above the sofa next to him. Cole climbed up. Mack pulled him into his side, a big hand spreading over his chest. "Cheeky little fucker."

"It was an honest mistake, sir."

"Hmm. Come here." Cole cuddled up.

"So I'm done properly?" A big hand tousled his hair.

"You know better than that, pup. You're done with my toes." Mack's hand went to the side, landing on his grimy socks. Cole looked up. A cantankerous eyebrow raise. "You got an attitude about this as well?"

"Um. No, sir." A beefy hand seized his jaw. "Good. Open up." Cole squinted at him. "It's not optional." Reluctantly, Cole opened his mouth. Giant fingers stuffed sweaty fabric into his mouth, covering his lips to force the sock in. The giant ruffled his hair affectionately as his sweat invaded Cole's mouth. "Taste good, boy?" Cole was already humiliated enough without attempting to speak. He hit weakly at Mack's wrist. A snort. "Don't try your luck." The hand lifted. Mack settled back again. Cole raised his hand warily to his face. "You sure you want to piss me off?" Cole let his arm fall back to his side. Mack was cuddly today. Whenever Cole tried to get up, a big hand hauled him back in with a warning growl. Cole gave up eventually, burying himself in the refuge of Mack's broad chest. An appreciative huff. A hand wrapped around his neck in gentle possession. Mack reached down between Cole's legs, idly feeling him up. "Always quick to get excited, aren't you?" He took another swig of his beer and yawned, tucking Cole's head beneath his neck. The TV buzz faded into the background as Cole tasted the tang of sweat on his tongue. Mack's colossal form shifted. A hand rubbed gently at the nape of his neck, and the time began to slip away. Finally, a vast hand pulled the massive sock from his mouth. "Alright, bud. Time for a check-in. Having a good time?"

"Pretty rank, sir. But sexy."

"Jesus, pup. You do love my filth. Today wasn't too much?" Cole inhaled, breathing in Mack's scent. It was a warm, comforting musk now, even with the taste of foot sweat lurking at the back of his throat.

"No. It's all hot." He glanced up. "We're done now, sir?"

"Yes, bud. The scene is over for the moment. You can relax." Cole looked down, tugging at the bootprint stained across his chest.

"Do I get to change my shirt?"

"Not a chance. You look good." Cole pulled a face, reaching for his phone.

"I forgot to ask you to get spring rolls."

"I remembered. It's coming. Settle down." Cole tried to get a look at Mack's phone. "That's an order." The brute turned the sound on the TV back up. The two of them fell into companionable silence. Cole lay down, his torso over Mack's lap. A burly hand played with his hair. A sudden vibration rang out from Mack's phone. "Food's gonna be a bit longer. There's been a delay."

Cole yawned and sat up. A mildly offended huff. "Where do you think you're going?" Cole headed into the kitchen, pulling a tin from beneath the sink. Leather polish, cloth and a buffer. He came back and crouched down, reaching for massive boots again. An affectionate smile above him.

"Good man."

Living Arrangements

The changing room was mostly empty this early in the morning. Just two men, side by side. One glanced at the other. “Hey. Bryce. The little guy. Have you got him today?”

“Of course I have. I don't let him out of my reach at his size.” He fished around in his jock, pulling out a tiny form. Beet red, covered in Bryce’s sweat. A nervous little squeak. He tried to cover himself. The brute ignored him, sitting down and landing him on his hefty bulge. Huge hands prodded him carefully around. The first man sat down next to them, looking down in fascination.

“Where did you get him?”

“The asswipe was my apprentice before he shrunk. Early twenties when I met him. I was fond of him. Not too bright, but he worked hard. Sweet kid. Gave me a bit of attitude, but he always made up for it. Ain’t that right, boy?” Bryce tapped a tiny shoulder, sending the little man tumbling onto his thigh. A big hand caught him and propped him back up. “We caught the virus, got confined together, he got shrunk and I was fine. Bit of a mess with his family, I ended up with custody. His request. Now he's my boy.”

“I always wanted a little man. Cute as fuck. Are you allowed to keep him like this?”

“Yeah. So long as he's safe and healthy, anything goes. He likes my stench, I like my crack licked clean, it's a good match.” Huge fingers rubbed a miniature chest.

“Can I say hello?”

“Fine. Boy. This is Tariq. Say hello.” A tiny squeak. It was hard to make out the exact words, but he seemed in good spirits.

“Hi buddy. You doing ok?” A tiny thumbs up. Tariq grinned. “Alright. I want one.”

“Find your own. He's mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Can I hold him?”

“Hmm. Hold out your hand.” The tiny weight of his body might as well have been a mouse in Tariq's hands. He grinned.

“Oh, he's fucking cute.” He ran a finger over a small head. Fuzzy. Damp with Bryce's sweat. He bounced the little man in his palm and Bryce growled.

“Don't be rough. He's not yours to throw around.”

“I'm not trying to mess with you, brother. I just want to see what it's like having a little man.” Bryce watched him like a hawk. “Does he have a name?”

“Dario. But he answers fine to boy or asswipe.” Tariq turned him over. He prodded the little man's legs apart. A tiny squeak. Bryce plucked the little man out of his hands. “Enough of that. You want any more, find your own.”

“How do I get one, though? You got lucky.” Bryce turned his tiny man over, spitting on his thumb and rubbing a patch of dirt on his back. “Get one to give you guardianship. That's the one thing he controls. Even this little man regularly registers as happy with his guardian, otherwise they would take him away.” Tariq looked down. He frowned. 

“Can you cover his ears a minute?” Bryce wrapped finger and thumb around a tiny head. Confused little movements.

“Can you… you know. Just sort of grab one? Is it legal?”

“Don't be a fuckin' savage.” Something in his expression said differently. The little man squeaked as a huge hand swept him up again. Bryce reached unceremoniously down the back of his sweats, stuffing in his little toy. Then he leaned in. “Alright. Listen. Kidnap is illegal.”

“What's the little man gonna do, snitch on us?”

“He's gonna sulk at me if he hears this, and I want my asscrack licked clean on the way home. This little bastard's strikes are a right pain in the arse.”

“Who wears the trousers here, you or him?” Bryce looked him dead in the eye. A loud fart. Tariq winced as the smell hit him. Was the boy even conscious after that? “Me, you prick. But I like my asswipe happy. Shut up and listen. If you find a tiny with a thing for big men, the police won’t give a shit if he goes missing. There are plenty of loopholes in the law when it comes to tinies.” Bryce paused for another stinking fart, grinding backwards. “Tiny logistics is a shitshow for the government. One less on their hands is doing them a favour so long as you’re not planning to hurt them.”

“No, no. I just want… a companion. Like yours.”

“Text me later. I know a guy who can help. Enough of that now. I want to give the asswipe a last breath of fresh air.”

“Yeah, let me see him again.” Bryce fished the little man out from his crack. The brute's sweat glistened on the tiny form. Weak, angry noises. Tariq watched, fascinated, as Bryce wrestled the little man with a finger.

“How do you normally communicate with him?”

“I got this fancy microphone that can pick him up at home. Most of the time he's just yapping. It's fine to leave him be so long as he's safe.” Something from beneath them. “Little brat, you are.” Tariq frowned.

“He gives you attitude?”

“Yeah. It's not like he can resist. He mouths off to feel better. Fine by me. So long as he keeps my foreskin licked clean.” Tariq reached for the little man again. Blocked by Bryce. He grumbled and stretched.

“Well, your daddy's got you on a tight leash.”

“Damn right I have. He's too small to go running off.” Even now, the little man was trapped behind huge fingers.

“Where does he go, though? There's got to be times it gets hard to be careful.”

“They're tough as shit. Little man's been everywhere. In my cock, up my arse. In my belly and through my guts. He always comes out fine. Happy, even. Little pervert loves it.” Tariq let out a jealous growl.

“Shit, I need one. Alright. Let's get going. You remembered your towel today?”

“The asswipe cleans me up. Tongue and hands.”

“That's one hell of a task for that little man.” Signs of inquisitive little movement before Bryce squashed the little man firmly into his crotch.

“He’s got time. Let’s get this show on the road. Say goodbye, asswipe.”

“Bye, sir!” A tiny squeak. Then he was back in a massive, sweaty hand and thrust into the depths of the stinking brute's underwear. Bryce stood up and squeezed his bulge, snorting.

“Pull day. Let's work hard. Give the brat plenty of stink to roll in.”

Up the Creek #2 / #3

Putting both in one because chapter #2 doesn't have that much action. First everyone showers off the results of the afternoon. The next morning, Dale once more tries his luck - and this time, Kingsley is only there to enable him.

Kingsley reached for the soap, watching the scene in front of him. An overprotective Asim was an entertaining thing to watch. He had Dale penned between massive calves, bulk casting a shadow over the tiny form beneath him. The only water reaching Dale was runoff. Kingsley watched as the little man made a step towards freedom. A massive foot planted in front of him, nudging him back into confinement. A little complaint, inaudible over the running water. Asim scratched his hairy balls.

“I should've taken a leak before I got in.” The big man was barely paying attention. Kingsley knew what was going to happen now. He looked down, grinning as the little man looked up in fear. Asim relaxed his bladder with a yawn, spraying the little man with piss.

“Finally giving him a proper shower, are you?” Asim reached down absent-mindedly to stop his prisoner from escaping, scrubbing a hairy pit with his other hand.

“Yeah. Daley likes it. Right, buddy?” The little man opened his mouth to say something. Asim adjusted his aim, the stream filling up a small mouth. Little splutters. Asim finally finished emptying his bladder and stretched, shaking himself off. A sign of a scowl beneath him.

“He needs to be clean sooner or later, love.” Asim finally squatted down to pay the little man some attention

“I know. He’s just so - teasable. Come here, buddy.” He gave the little man a hug. Kingsley snorted.

“Pass him here. You wanted us to get to know each other.” Kingsley sat on the shower floor, lifting the little man into his lap. Soap first. Then shampoo and conditioner. Dale was an obedient little thing. Probably still shellshocked from his earlier ordeal. Asim stepped out next to them. Once Kingsley was done, he trapped the little man in a quick headlock and opened the shower door. Asim pounced. Dale disappeared beneath a towel. Kingsley stretched as he stepped out behind them. Asim looked up, tucking a wriggling bundle of fabric under his arm. 

“Looking good, babe.”

“Focus on the lad.” Asim gave the bundle an affectionate squeeze.

“My bad.” He sat down. The bundle went between his legs. He scrubbed the little man down playfully. Small, ineffective struggles. Finally, everyone was dry. Dale’s hair was a mess after Asim had scrubbed him down. Kingsley ran his hands under the tap, snagging him as he went for the door, working some kind of order back into his hair. He shook off his hands. Asim was happy. The little man looked like he was beginning to work out what planet he was on again.  Everything was in order.

“Everyone ready to order some food?”

“I’ll get it. Same as usual, right?”

“Aye. You want anything in particular, lad?” Confused little stare. “Not quite together yet. He won’t eat much. Just the usual.” Asim bounded off. Apparently, Kingsley was on petsitting duty now. He led Dale down the stairs and into the living room. It was hard to work out the limits of his shyness. Around little men, Asim had a talent for exposing submission. He was cute, though, now that most of Asim's filth had been washed off. Plenty of people would have run away screaming by now, so he was either relatively relaxed or his attraction had shut down any complaints. That was enough for Kingsley. 

“You still smell of ass, lad.” A little grimace.

“Blame Asim.”

“You do speak after all.” He set the little man up on the sofa with a shot glass of water he could barely lift, grabbing a coke for Asim. Soon, Asim was back. Kingsley lifted the little man’s glass safely out of the way as he bounced towards them. Just in time. Asim lifted the little man one-handed, dumping him in his lap.

“I have your spare clothes, buddy.” Another pair of trousers. Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

“Jeans, lad? Do you just want a blanket?”

“No, these are good.” Asim produced a t-shirt as well. Definitely not the little man’s. Small hands picked it up, brow furrowing, the fabric unfolding over his legs and down the front of the sofa. Asim took it from him and pulled it over his head. The struggling was stronger now. Futile, of course, but at least he had some personality back. Kingsley grinned and gave his little shoulder a poke.

“So. Your name is Dale. You work in IT.” The little man looked up. An owlish blink.

“Uh - yes. A systems administrator. You work in cybersecurity, right?”

“That I do. But I met this big oaf when I was a personal trainer.” He fixed Dale in his gaze. “Enough small talk. What’s your intention with my husband?” Asim glared at him.

“Uh - sex, I suppose? Respectfully. We get along. He’s a friend as well as a hookup.” Kingsley snorted.

“What about with me?” A small head cocked.

“I think that’s up to you as much as me.”

“Humour me. Go into detail.” Little eyes looked him up and down. Surprisingly bold.

“You’re attractive. I think you know that. I don’t know you that well, but I would like to see if the attraction is mutual. And - well - Asim is your husband, not mine. That makes it important for me to know your boundaries.”

“Hmm.” He watched as Asim wrangled the little man more firmly into his arms, bulky biceps enveloping his head.“Let’s see what happens. I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if I wasn’t interested.” Asim scowled at him, a small hand tapping weakly at his beefy forearm.

“Are you done bullying him?”

“You’re one flex from a sleeper hold.”

“This is a cuddle. I'm being gentle.” The doorbell rang. “I'll get it.” Kingsley chuckled as Asim dumped the little man in his lap. Small arms shook themselves, and then he looked up. A hint of fire. Kingsley growled at him, tweaking his ear. Hands batted at his fingers and he twisted an arm gently behind Dale's back. Asim came back in, dumping a bag on the coffee table. He pulled it open and spread out the contents. Plastic cutlery and a couple of boxes landed in front of Kingsley. Then Asim sat down and lifted Dale back up. A little yawn. Asim handed the little man a slice of garlic bread. “Don’t sleep yet, buddy. You must be hungry.” He set a container in Dale’s lap. Probably a week's food at that size. Kingsley swiped it.

“How much do you think that little runt can eat?” A rebellious frown from Dale. Kingsley raised an eyebrow and the little man looked back down. Asim laid a reassuring hand over Dale’s torso.

“Just a few bites. He needs his energy back.” A miniature elbow bounced off Asim’s belly.

“I am right here, you know. You can talk to me directly.” Asim ruffled his hair.

“Feisty now, are we? Shh. Eat a bit more, then you can sleep.” There was a moment when it looked like Dale had something else to say, then he gave up. His eyes were already beginning to close. Kingsley reached for Asim's hand, squeezed it, and dug back in. It was nice. His husband leaned into his side. The little man beneath them drifted slowly off, a small hand still on Kingsley’s thigh. Kingsley gave it a gentle tap. Tiny palm, little fingers. He looked down properly. Already comatose. Kingsley leaned into Asim's shoulder, tickling the little man's chin.

“He's cute. I like him.”

“Right? So you don’t mind if we keep him?” Kingsley flicked Asim’s forehead.

“Slow down. He can come to bed with us today, for starters. Let's see how it goes.” A sheepish grin.

“Okay. Thanks for fishing him out earlier. I was worried.”

“I’m just glad it wasn't anything too serious. I thought something had happened when you came running down the stairs.” Something crossed his mind. “Why were your briefs back on already if you wanted me to fish him out?”

“Well, I - I figured he would be fine. You’re not always back early, and he was on a timer before he got too deep. I figured I might as well start getting dressed.” Kingsley grinned.

“Poor little guy. What is he, a toy? You were just going to leave him up there?”

“I didn't have a choice! You know this. If something's too deep, I just have to relax and let it work its own way out. Even if the something is a someone.” Kingsley chuckled.

“You’re an asshole.”

“He likes it. You'll be just as bad soon. He's the perfect size for just - you know. Messing around.” Kingsley looked down. In his sleep, Dale was calm. Utterly oblivious to Asim's plans.

“Messing around, huh?”

“In a friendly way. I want him to have fun too.”

“Give him to me for a minute.” Asim lifted up Dale’s unconscious form, handing him over. Kingsley held Dale up in front of him. He really was cute. A little scaled-down Adonis. He stirred.

“Babe! You woke him up!” Kingsley wrapped him up in his arms.

“He'll be fine. Go back to sleep, lad.” He put a tiny face in his pit before the little man could open his eyes. Tiny struggles. He chuckled. It didn't take the little man long to pass back out, still tenting in his jeans. Asim gave him a look.

“That was kind of hot.”

“Mhmm. He needed sleep.” Asim sniffed.

“Now he smells of pits as well as ass. Do you think he even knew he was awake?”

“Probably just thought it was a wet dream. All he should've got was darkness and stink before he was back under. Strip him and put him to bed, would you? Then we can have some full-size fun.” A salute. Asim scooped the little man up. Kingsley leaned back and watched him walk out.

Chapter #3

When Kingsley woke up, Dale was up to his bicep in Asim's hairy arse, getting deeper by the moment. He looked up desperately. A slurping noise, then he went a little deeper. No amount of struggling could rescue him at that size.

“Asim persuaded you to wake him up with some play, huh?” A nod. “Then you went too deep and discovered that he can sleep through just about anything?”

“Help, please.” Kingsley sat down next to him.

“Well, lad. I could. If you want me to, I’ll do it. But I've got a counteroffer. I want to get my rocks off. I got some toys here. I want you to hang on to this chain and take a quick spelunking session. Everyone will end up with what they want.” He watched as the little man braced against the pull of Asim's insides. A wet slurp. Dale pulled out a couple of inches, then got sucked in twice as far.“Keep in mind, though. If you lose your grip, I'm not rescuing you this time. It's all on you. I'll let Asim know you're inside him so he knows to keep an eye out, but that's it.” Common sense was a powerful force. Libido was stronger. Kingsley smirked as he watched the little man mull it over.

“That sounds fun.”

“Yeah it does.” The little man’s shoulder disappeared into the depths, swallowed between massive glutes.

“But I still need help for now, please.” Kingsley took pity on him. He wrapped his hand beneath the little man's armpit to stop the advance.

“Let's see you put some muscle into it, lad. Pull yourself out.” Small muscles tightened. Kingsley watched the little man's back tense up. Not very effective. He lent more power, grinning as Asim's walls tightened around a tiny arm. A mumbled complaint, even as he slept. A slow, wet squelch. Dale pulled out his arm and hopped back. He shook off his hand, wincing as something unpleasant oozed over his fingers. “Not enjoying yourself?”

“I did actively volunteer for this. I can't really complain about the general filth.”

“Correct.” Kingsley reached for the bedside table. In the bottom drawer was a thick chain. Massive to the little man, a flared toy at the end with a handhold for Kingsley. The little man examined it. “Plenty of handholds, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let's get you lubed up. Boxers off. Even if you make it out, they won’t.” He shook the bottle and held it over the little man’s head. A grumble. Small arms shielded Dale's eyes. Kingsley squeezed, watching lube ooze over the little form. He set it aside and started rubbing it over the man's torso. A shiver. “Cold?”

“Yeah.”

“You're going somewhere warm, lad. Stick it out for me.” The chain was next. Plenty of lube. Better safe than sorry.

“I do want to be able to hold on, you know.”

“Uh huh.” The little man was studying his expression. Kingsley stared down openly. He wasn't trying to hide his intentions.

“You don’t think I'm making it out anytime soon, do you?”

“I know you won't, lad.”

“I think I can prove you wrong.”

“Be my guest.” He gave the little man his chain. Little arms grabbed on. Kingsley lifted it up, looking down at Asim's spread-out form. Bulk and muscle and thick black hair. He spread massive cheeks one-handed, dangling the little man above his new home. He landed the first link on Asim's hole, poking it in. Still plenty loose enough. A couple more links and Asim took over. He let massive cheeks close over the chain. Wet, muted squelching as metal started to disappear. The little man wasn't high up. His feet were already in the dark crevice, Asim's hair curling around his ankles. “Here we go, lad.”

“Hang on.” Kingsley pulled the chain taut. Dale looked up at him, hanging on for dear life, sudden worry on his face. “This is not the cleverest thing I've ever volunteered for, is it?” Kingsley poked his little stomach.

“You know you're not going to get hurt.”

“Yeah. Uh. What about getting lost?”

“Isn't that the fun of it?” The bob of a tiny Adam’s apple. The little man nodded. Kingsley relaxed his hold. Dale winced as fat arsecheeks moulded around his form, sweat and lube rubbing over him. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Uh. Wet. Warm.” The little man rubbed his nose. “And he kind of stinks.”

“Yeah he does. That's a proper man's smell.”

“I'm a proper - eughh.” He batted a coil of sweaty hair away from his mouth. “Fuck. Why is there so much suction?” He disappeared between greasy curls. Kingsley snorted, pulling Asim's cheeks apart again. There he was. Little feet had already disappeared inside. Dale looked up. Fear. Thrill. Humiliation, red across his cheeks. Kingsley blew on him as he opened his mouth, Asim's hole clenching beneath him, dragging in his calves. “That’s enough, lad. Just let it take you now.” Asim's hole took its time. Link after link slid wetly inside. Slowly, hungrily, the abyss swallowed Dale down. Kingsley watched, feeling himself up through his pyjamas. The little man looked up as his thighs slid in. Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

“Jesus. I’m fucking stupid.” A big squelch. His torso was gone. Kingsley grinned.

“See you later, lad.” Kingsley made the last move, placing a hand on a tiny head and pushing gently in. Asim's hole swallowed greedily. Gentle, warm suction around his finger. He went in a little more until he was up to the knuckle. There was still a small head beneath the pad of his finger. He withdrew the finger, watching for a moment. The idle release of gas around the chain. Asim let out a happy exhale in his sleep. He winced as it hit his nose. He pulled the chain out a little, then stopped. A little more. A glimpse of a tiny head. Out came Dale, piece by piece. Filthy. He spat something out, then looked up, beaming. 

“You did get me out!” Kingsley let the chain go slack. “Oh - fuck.” Then he was gone again. Kingsley toyed with him lazily. In and out, the chains gleaming with unmentionable fluids. Dale’s energy wouldn't last forever. The stench, and the suction, the slippery flesh around him. It was all getting too much for him. Enthusiasm turned sluggish. Finally, he pulled the chain out for the last time. Link by link, slimy, soiled, and with no passenger hanging on. Kingsley ran it over his hands, feeling the warmth of Asim's insides on the metal. Asim's arse was still a glorious thing to watch in action. The casual release of musk. Kingsley reached for some lube. He pulled off his boxers and yawned. He laid down over Asim's body, comparing the bulk of their bodies. Muscle on muscle, heft on heft. A good match. A far cry from the little man lost somewhere in Asim's plumbing. He thrust in lazily. Loose, sloppy hole. It felt good. Familiar. Finally, a sleepy stir. Asim breathed out and pushed back. A rough murmur.

“Feels good.”

“Mhmm.” Kingsley pressed his lips against Asim's neck. It was a comfortable fuck. Just the steady movements of his hips. He shifted his bulk slowly, Asim grinding against the sheets beneath them.

“Didn't we have a little man in bed with us?”

“Aye. He's gone spelunking.”

“Mmm.” A moment of stillness, then Asim chuckled as he registered the sentence.

“Where?”

“Where do you think, love?” Kingsley gave his ass a lazy smack.

“Did I sleep through it?”

“You did.” A yawn.

“I'll have to put him back up there again later, then. I want to feel it. He was happy about it, right?”

“Of course he was. What sort of arsehole do you think I am?”

“You know that's not what I meant.” Kingsley burrowed his head into the back of Asim's hair.

“I know. He was happy.” Kingsley wrapped his hand around Asim's, closing his eyes as warmth built beneath him. It was a pleasant orgasm. Warm and affectionate. He laid down with a yawn, feeling powerful muscles shift beneath him.

“You gonna come back to sleep for a few more minutes, babe?”

“Just a couple. Breakfast soon.” He lay there a little longer, feeling the early morning sunlight warm his back as it filtered around the curtains. Finally, he got up and pulled out. A flow of his come onto the sheets. It was a problem for later. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Time for some food, then. I'm gonna use up some bacon. You want orange juice as usual?”

“Yeah. And - well. Coffee, please.”

“You don't usually have coffee.” A guilty shuffle. Asim rolled over and scratched his belly. Kingsley chuckled. “You’re a sadist sometimes, love. Go on then. I still need to wake up. I'll put a proper pot on.”

Acclimatisation #2

The human learns some discipline.

Barric found his human exactly where he thought he would be. The market stall. He watched the little man across the street for a moment. Still attractive. The human rubbed his throat with a wince. Barric frowned. It made sense. Getting used to sucking orc cock would take time. Barric would teach him something different this time. He sauntered over. A journey of different facial expressions as the little man looked up. He attempted to settle into a surly glare. Barric gave him a friendly grin.

“Hello.” His accent had never been very good. “You are free?”

“Later.” Barric's brow furrowed. “The evening.” Lust, layered beneath an attempted growl.

“Ah. Towards night. Hmm. There is-” he frowned. “Camp. Orc camp.”

“I’ve seen it.” Something else in his language. It would be nice to understand each other, but that would solve itself with time.

“When the sun sets. Come.” He headed off. A glance over his shoulder caught eyes fixed on him. Barric winked at him and he went red, scowling and looking away. Hours passed. Barric sharpened his axe. He cut down a couple of trees. He washed the sweat off in the river, dozed off in his tent, woke up again. He took a look outside. The sun was low in the sky. Would the little man have the balls to turn up, or would Barric have to track him down? He wasn’t against a hunt. Outside his tent, there was a clear view of the town up the river. At first, he saw nothing. Then he remembered who he was looking for and angled his field of vision down. There. Looking bewildered, staring around like he wanted a fight. Barric waved at him. The man marched towards him. All square shoulders and angry little glare. It had been endearing at first, but the human was testing his luck now. Barric had to establish some proper rules. As he passed the oxen, the little man looked up. Brief curiosity. Orcish oxen were far bigger than any human livestock. Barric didn't particularly want to introduce him to them immediately. He would probably try to assert his dominance and get his chest caved in. Soon they were at Barric's tent. He lifted the entrance to let the man in. A rebellious look. Barric narrowed his eyes, ferrying him in, then sat down on the floor. He watched. The human glared expectantly. Barric sized him up, considering his next move. He had used the front end. Perhaps it was time for the back. He pulled down the little man's breeches. An angry grunt. Small hands pulled them up. Barric frowned. That was enough. He was annoyed. It was time for someone to learn his place.

Barric pulled over a stool and sat down. He reached down beneath his furs. A brief tug and his loincloth was in his hands. The little man swallowed. His eyes fixed on the stained cloth. Barric offered it to him, reverting back to Orcish. “You want it?” Hesitance. He wrapped it around his forearm for a moment. He extended a free hand, motioning at the little man. Confusion. “Your hand.” Blank expression. He leaned forward and grabbed a small wrist, placing it face up on his own. Still surly, but the little man didn’t pull back. Barric grabbed his other hand, placing them both on his palm, lining up the human’s wrists. He held up the loincloth again. Red on the little man’s face. Humiliation. Watching the man’s natural submission fight with shame and pride wasn't pretty. Barric took a deep breath of the stained fabric, grinning at the pure strength of his stink. He offered it to the little man. The same stupid turmoil. “Suit yourself.” Barric closed his fingers over the human’s wrists. Gentle enough that he didn’t run away. Carefully, he laid sweaty fabric over the little man’s wrists. Brief disgust gave way to raw arousal. His eyes were fixed on Barric’s dirty loincloth, laying over his hands. Even with open permission, he was resisting it. Barric grumbled. Slowly, he wrapped the loincloth around the little man’s wrists. Mild confusion. He crossed the two ends over each other, then folded one under the other. The little man was too lost in his ridiculous little inner battle to process what was going on. A smooth tug. An easy second circle around his arms as he started to react and a second knot before he could get away. Barric let him stumble back, rage in his eyes as he looked at his bound hands and then back up at Barric. “Are we going to do this the easy way?” He didn’t need to understand him to know the answer to that one. The little man looked around wildly. Barric yawned, watching him. A step towards the tent exit. Then he looked back. Shame, perhaps. Running out of an orc camp with his hands bound in Barric’s loincloth wouldn't fit in with his attempted image. Now there was anger. Growling and spitting. Barric watched him patiently. It wasn’t the little human’s fault. Clearly, no one had ever taught him better. The human pulled at his bonds. It was a simple knot. All he needed to do was tug at it with his teeth, but of course he was too proud to put his mouth on Barric’s loincloth. Finally, he seemed to run out of steam a little. Barric patted his knee. A grimace. Too much lust to pull away, too much pride to let himself get what he needed. Barric reached out again. A little hop away. “I’m not doing anything.” Eventually, the little man seemed to understand that there wasn’t an immediate threat. He stepped back into Barric’s reach. Barric wrapped his hands around his hips. The human wasn’t a small one. That, however, was not saying much in front of an orc. A breathless inhale. Barric drew him in gently this time. If he had known the little man had so much built-up shame, he would have gone slower when they first met. Once he had the human close, he raised a pit, pulling him in. A hand on his head gave the little man an excuse not to fight it. A small nose took a deep breath of his stink. He chuckled. “We’re getting there.”

Now it was time for the main event. First, he crouched down. One hand on a foot, the other tugging down his wrists. The human willingly stepped over his bound hands, breathing shallow as he stood back up. Wrestling a human over his knee was hardly a difficult task for Barric. There was struggling, but the little man’s hands were already tied. He didn’t pose much of a challenge. Barric pinned two wrists to the base of a small back. More or less immobilised. A few kicks. Weak. He pulled down the human's breeches again. Toned cheeks. There was no point dragging it out. Barric laid a blow over his ass. A yelp. He went rigid. Instant reaction from his cock, rubbing against Barric’s knee. That would help. It would sharpen the humiliation. The little man’s pride was a particularly bad case, but he had seen this problem before. A firm hand would fix it. Barric would give him plenty of aftercare and then they could carry on as planned. He didn’t go too hard. Just a series of short, open-palm blows. Steady redness building on his lap. He rumbled appreciatively. A few more strikes for good measure. The kicking slowly stopped as the little man realised he couldn’t fight it. Stifled yelps. The odd attempted curse. Barric picked up his waterskin, making sure to pour some down the little man's throat as well. Then he got back to the business at hand. Quiet, now. He still tried to stifle his yelps. Barric took pity on him, putting a leather band into his mouth so he had something to bite down on. The immediate problem of his disobedience seemed to have calmed down. Muscles tensed as Barric raised his hand. Expectant shivering. Then Barric brought his palm down. Soft human flesh, bouncing at the moment of impact. The shockwave up and down the little man’s body as he processed the pain. A snuffle at Barric’s thigh, the little man searching for a proper breath of his stink.

“Much better.” Barric was satisfied. He let the little man up, examining him as he stood up. Rock hard, cheeks glowing from the indignation. He couldn't meet Barric's eyes. Barric grasped his chin, twisting him around until he saw vulnerability in his eyes. The lesson had been learned. Barric pulled him in for a cuddle, sitting him on his knee. A wince as he sat down. Barric untied his hands slowly. Small fingers flexed. Barric folded up his loincloth and held it out. “Sniff.” No more resistance. The human breathed in deep, huffing Barric’s stink, clinging to the massive hand over his face. Barric wrapped his arm around the little form, pulling out his dick. It was easy enough to make him spill. The human slumped against Barric's chest, exhausted. Barric laid him face down among his furs, rubbing salve onto his red backside. A couple of rebellious little mutters, but no physical challenge. Good enough. He fell asleep quickly, slumped over Barric’s chest.

Something’s going in your mouth, boy. 

It’s either my cock or my cigar ash. It’s up to you. You’ve got about 10 seconds starting now to make the decision, or I’ll make it for you. And believe me, faggot, if I have to make it for you, it’ll be both. I’ll have you blowing me while I’m smoking until I nut all over your tonsils, and then I’ll drop my stogie ash on your tongue. Then, just for good measure I’ll piss in your fucking mouth. 

Time’s up, boy. Guess I’ll be doing all three then, since you’ve not said a word. Get over here and open wide. Good boy. 

A friend of my dad’s is sitting in our living room when I come downstairs. 

He’s dressed in a Santa outfit. 

‘Mr Harris?’ I ask, bewildered. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Hey, son,’ he says, winking at me. ‘I know your parents aren’t around for the holidays and I had a spare key, so just wanted to stop in and see how you’re doing. You wanna come over here and tell Santa what you want for Christmas?’ 

I laugh and turn towards the kitchen. ‘No thanks, I’m 21. I think I’m a little old for Father Christmas, don’t you?’

‘Suit yourself,’ he says, and stands up and stretches. I hadn’t really noticed until now, but the suit is half unbuttoned, and I can see his big, hairy, powerful chest straining against it as he stretches. 

He catches me staring and I blush. 

‘Hehe,’ he chuckles. ‘You sure you don’t wanna come sit up on my knee, son?’ 

I hesitate. My mouth is dry. Secretly, I’ve had a crush on my dad’s friend for years but I never thought anything would ever come of it. 

‘At least tell me which list to put you on,’ he says as I walk slowly back toward him. 

‘List?’

He pulls me down onto his lap. ‘Naughty or nice’, he says. 

Firmly holding me on his lap, he slowly starts to bounce me up and down on his knee. 

‘N-naughty’, I stammer, looking into his eyes.

‘Yeah?’ He murmurs in my ear. ‘You been a naughty boy, have you, eh?’

‘Yes, Sir’, I choke out. I suddenly realise I’m rock hard. 

‘And what do you think naughty boys should get?’

He’s still moving his knee up and down so that I have to put my hand on his chest to steady myself. 

‘A spanking,’ I reply without thinking. 

He laughs, another dry, dirty chuckle. ‘Yeah? Over my knee for a good hiding, is that it, boy? I think we can do better than that. I think,’ he murmurs into my ear again, ‘bad boys like you need a good hard fuck. What do you say to that?’

I whimper a little as his hand strays towards my crotch. As he caresses the bulge in my jeans he says, ‘Oh, I don’t think you need to say anything at all.’ 

He orders me to strip and get on all fours. I hear the sound of a belt buckle coming undone behind me, and he says, ‘You ready for my cock, faggot?’

I nod imperceptibly. Before I know it, I feel his full weight on top of me and he gets a fistful of my hair and pulls gently, forcing me to arch my back. Again he speaks, low, into my ear. ‘When I ask you a question, boy, the answer is ‘Yes, Sir’. Is that clear, faggot?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ I reply instantly. 

‘Good’. Then the weight shifts slightly, and that’s when I feel his thick, hard cock resting in the cleft of my arse. ‘Now, why don’t you tell me where you want my cock, boy? Nice and loud.’

‘Deep up my faggot cunt, please, SIR!’ I shout. 

‘Yeah? That where you want it, boy?’ 

‘Yes please, Sir.’

‘Yeah? Bareback?’

‘YES SIR!’ I am trembling with anticipation.

‘Good boy. Here it fucking comes.’ 

He slides into my cunt, balls deep. ‘Thank you SIR!’ I scream. 

‘God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you for a couple of years now, son. Been biding my time. And now, here we are. Christ, that’s a tight cunt. You’re a virgin, ain’t’cha boy?’

‘Yes Sir,’ I reply, feeling him thrust into my hole. 

He chuckles again. ‘Yeah, just my fuckin’ type. Dirty whore.’ 

He keeps going, holding onto my hips and thrusting hard. Several minutes pass, during which he keeps pulling my hair to keep my back arched so he can thrust deeper into my cunt. 

‘You ready for me to flood your fucking guts for you, faggot?’ 

‘Yes Sir’, I reply, whimpering in pleasure.

‘Good, because I’m about three thrusts from breeding your cunt.’

I feel him thrust twice, and then he pulls out. I wait a second, then turn my head to look at him behind me. He’s breathing heavily, that gorgeous furry chest rising and falling.

‘What’s the matter?’ I ask. 

He looks me right in the eyes. ‘Beg for it, faggot. Beg me to breed that hole.’

I catch on quickly. ‘Please, Sir,’ I beg, giving him my best fuck-me eyes, ‘please dump that load up my faggot cunt. I need that fucking seed please Sir. Spunk in my fucking guts. Fucking knock me up, please Sir.’

He grabs hold of my hips and thrusts into my cunt, balls deep. As he thrusts, I tense and squeeze my arse muscles so I’m extra tight for him. 

‘Oh, you dirty little slut’, he mutters as he realises what I’ve done. And then, ‘FFFFFUUUUUUUUCK’, he shouts, and I feel him shoot his load deep in my arse. He thrusts a time or two more, just enough so he knows every last drop is dumped up my cunt, and then I feel him get off me. 

‘Thank you, Sir’, I say. He sits down on the chair again and pulls me onto his lap. 

‘We can’t tell your parents about this, boy. Not yet, at least. Understand?’

We’re kissing, deep and passionately. ‘Yes Sir,’ I reply. ‘Anything you say.’

‘So, have you learned your lesson, boy? You gonna be a good boy from now on?’

I smile cheekily at him, before saying ‘No. If anything, I’m gonna be as bad as possible.’ I reposition myself on his knee so I can duck my mouth down to his right nipple, which I start licking, sucking and lightly biting.

‘Then I guess I’ll have to keep fucking you, boy. Once a week at least, until - careful, boy. You’re going the right way for another good hard fuck.’

‘Mmm-hmm’, I murmur, my mouth still working his nipple while my hands explore that big, hairy chest. I slide off his knee, release his nipple from my mouth and say, ‘I’m counting on it.’ Then I kiss my way down his body until I’m kneeling in front of him. 

I look up. ‘The next load of cream you shoot is gonna be right down the back of my faggot throat, Sir. All over my fucking tonsils. I’ll swallow it all.’ 

‘Good boy,’ he says, and I feel his hands on the back of my neck, ensuring I won’t be going anywhere for a while. I open my mouth, and deep throat his thick cock. My hands instantly go to tug on his nipples while he fucks my throat. ‘Good fucking boy.’ 

Up the Creek

Kingsley has to attempt a rescue when his husband gets a tiny hookup too deep.

Kingsley could hear music upstairs as he unlocked the door. He dumped his jacket over the bannister, kneeling down to pull off his shoes. Straight onto the shoe rack. There was an extra pair of men's shoes, lost between a couple of Asim’s trainers. A fraction of the size.

“I forgot he had a date over.” He called up the stairs. “Anybody home?” Hurried footsteps. A big, broad form appeared at the top of the stairs. Kingsley grinned.

“Hey, love. Where are your trousers?” Asim’s eyes were worried. He moved fast, thundering down the stairs. Kingsley caught him in his arms, looking him up and down. “Hey. Slow down. What's wrong?”

“Um. Really sorry. I lost a little man up my ass.” Kingsley snorted, his shoulders relaxing.

“You had me worried for a second. Again, love? Is that whose shoes are at the door?”

“Yeah. Can you, uh. Try to fish him out?”

“Hmm. How long ago was it?” Had Asim even tried to rescue him on his own? He was already wearing briefs.

“Only like ten minutes.”

“I might still be able to get him. How tiny we talking? Strong enough to put up a fight?” Asim scratched his head.

“Not really. I was just, you know. Letting him eat my ass. He wasn't very deep. He was just really enthusiastic, and I thought it would be harmless if I let him just put a hand in.” He had a bottle of lube in his hands. Kingsley took it. “And then it was a second. I know I should have told him off, but it felt good. And then he was inside, and it was kind of like, you know. He was already in, I might as well enjoy it. And then by the time I was done he was too deep for me to reach.” Kingsley rolled up his sleeves. 

“That’s fine, though, right? It's not as if he'll get hurt.”

“Yeah, but - he didn't sign up for - you know. My guts doing their thing. Things could get a bit messy if I can't get him out.” The lube was cold over his hands. He rubbed it between his palms and starting smearing it up and down his forearm.

“Alright. Assume the position. Let's see if I can pull him out.” He took off his ring as Asim pulled down his briefs. He had made that mistake before. “How small, then? That little six footer you keep on banging on about?” Asim got on his knees at the base of the stairs, looking over his shoulder. Despite the situation, it was a good view. Thick, hairy legs. Meaty glutes. Heavy balls dangling.

“Yeah. About six foot. Dale. You remember him?” Kingsley tugged his cheeks apart and winced. Smelly bastard.

“Whether I find him or not, you need a shower before we eat.” He probed around in the maze of stinking hair. Asim’s hole was easy enough to find. He wasn't exactly tight. Not everyone could lose an entire person up their ass, however tiny. “Dale is the IT guy, right?”

“Yeah! He's really cute. Barely reaches my shins, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm.” Kingsley tugged at a puffy hole.

“Mm. He sounds sweet. Let's have a look.” There was no sign of him from the outside. It wasn't really a surprise, there was no way Asim's ass would have left him on the surface for so long. “You remember we're ordering Italian later?”

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry. I was just gonna let him finish and send him home so I could get ready. Things just got too heavy.” Kingsley pointed his fingers into a familiar position. Asim’s hole parted around him. Into the darkness. A slow, careful advance deeper.

“Hmm. You want him to stay over?” Asim let out a happy exhale.

“Well - fuck, that feels good. Maybe. If you like him.” Kingsley was already up to his knuckles. He carefully twisted his hand around. No tiny man in Asim's rectum. He had already been swallowed deeper.

“Let's see if I can find him first. He might just have to stick it out.”

“Oh, but I'm gonna feel bad if that h - fuck, babe. If that happens.” Asim's hole squelched around his wrist as he got deeper.

“Please. You love little men up your ass.” Asim shuddered around him.

“Yeah, but - like I said. That wasn't - it wasn’t the plan.”

“Before arms started going up holes, huh?” There was something there. Rough fabric. Denim. He pulled it out. Slow and patient. The muscle let him go with a squelch. He inspected his find. A slimy little pair of jeans. “Hmm. I found trousers.” Asim looked over his shoulder.

“Fuck, they're his. Is he too far in?”

“Hold on. I haven't gone deep yet.” He flexed his wrist. “Ready for me to go back in?” Asim glanced over his shoulder. An eager smile.

“Yessir.”

“Calm down, love. We’re not doing a proper scene. This is a rescue mission.” He slowly buried his fist further in. A pleasurable grunt from Asim. He chuckled. “Feels good?”

“Really good. Sorry.”

“I'm not mad at you. I just want to keep track of what I’m here for.” He felt around. Muscle flexing around him. Asim shivered, a moan of pure pleasure. Then Kingsley nudged something. A small form. It twisted at his touch. Something latched desperately onto his fingers. He chuckled.

“There we go. Think I have him.” Asim let out a sigh. Pleasure or relief, it was hard to tell. “Let me pull him out slow so he can hang on.” He started to withdraw. Slowly, his forearm emerged, slimy with mucus. He frowned. The little man's grip didn't feel very secure. He probably needed to hold on himself. “Give me a moment. Let me - fuck.” The little hands around his fingers were gone. Swallowed up again inside Asim. “I lost him. Where are you, lad?” Asim's voice rose.

“I thought you had him?” Kingsley snorted, flexing his hand.

“Don’t get pissy with me. This isn’t my fault.” A deep breath.

“Sorry, babe. I just - you know. Feel guilty. And I don't want to scare him off.”

“It’ll be fine. He wouldn’t have volunteered to eat you out if he didn't like a bit of filth. I think the suction was just too much for him to deal with.” He reached back in. Deeper and deeper, trying not to be too rough on Asim. Was the little man gone? He frowned. Asim groaned roughly. Big toes curled. Kingsley grinned. If the worst came to the worst, at least him and the Asim could have some fun. Before he could make the call, he found the form again. He grabbed on before it sunk deeper. It shifted a little. He breathed out.

“There we go. That's a leg.” Unlike the little man, Kingsley wasn't completely at the mercy of Asim's bowels. He braced and pulled. Steady squelching. Warm, wet walls, pulsating around his arm. Back outside. His hand was easy enough to pull out. Then sloppy muscle clenched over little calves. It was amazing how much Asim could tighten up when there was a little man to tyrannise. Slowly, reluctantly, Asim's hole let him pull a small form out, clamping wetly over every muscle and joint. Mucus and filth, coating every inch. He chuckled. That was satisfying. Asim moaned as the lad started to emerge.

“Holy shit. That feels good.”

“Stop clenching. You're gonna suck him back in.”

“I know. That would be bad, right?” Kingsley gave his ass a slap. Satisfying ripples in fat and muscle.

“You tell me.” A fuzzy little torso. Finally, a face. Asim's hole squelched around it until Dale was finally free. Kingsley sat him up, examining the little form. A hairy little man. Slimy with mucus, mind visibly blown by his ordeal. Asim turned around, ignoring the filth as he pulled the little man into his arms.

“Dale! You ok? I thought I lost you there. I was worried I wasn't gonna see you till tomorrow.” A weak little splutter. “I know, buddy. Sorry about that. We both got a bit carried away. Oh, hang on. This is my husband Kingsley. Kingsley, this is Dale.” Kingsley scanned the little man up and down. 

“Asim was right. You do have pretty eyes.” He offered a hand.

“Um. I'm… dirty.” 

“I know, lad. I just pulled you out with this hand. Don't sweat it.” He enveloped the little man's hand, trying not to crush him as he shook it. “Me and Asim are ordering some food. Let's take a shower, then you can join us.” The little man still seemed like he was on a different plane of existence. Asim half-propelled, half-carried him off, the little man stumbling in front of him. Kingsley stretched as he entered the bathroom behind them, ruffling a slimy little head of hair. “Still shellshocked? You'll be alright. No harm done.”

“Well, I was - inside a person. Inside Asim.” Asim crouched down and gave him another hug.

“I know, buddy. Really sorry. You were doing such a good job, and I just didn't stop you when I should have. You would have come out eventually, it just might have been… dirty.” The little man blinked. 

“You weren't kidding when you said I would need a change of clothes.”

“No, buddy. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Then I want the two of you to get to know each other.”

Y’know, son, your dad and I go way back. 

Worked together from right around the time you were born, and you guys moved in down the street not long after. We’ve been drinking buddies ever since. I got him through it when your mother left, got him laid again, got him working again, got him off the alcohol. So, when he said he wanted some help with you, I didn’t hesitate. 

‘Bill’, he says to me a few weeks back, ‘Bill, I don’t know what to do. Johnny turns 18 in a week and I need your help.’ Turns out he’d spied you masturbating and was surprised because you were jacking off to daddy porn - with a pair of his undies stuffed in your mouth. 

‘Bill’, Mick says, ‘I need you to get Johnny out of the house. Have him go and stay with you for a couple weeks at least, please. If he turns eighteen under my roof, Bill,’ he says to me, ‘his birthday present’s gonna be a can of beer and then my beer can cock up his arse.’ 

So that’s why we arranged to have you stay here for a while. It was nothing to do with your dad having COVID or anything - he just didn’t want to have that temptation around. And, to be honest, I can see what he means. You’ve got a high, tight arse, son. And perfect dick-sucking lips. In fact, hell, I’ve been putting this off for a couple weeks at this point, but I think it’s time that bill was paid. Pass me my phone, son. I’m gonna film this next bit. See, I said to your dad, ‘Well, what do I get out of all this’, you know? And he said I could demand the use of your holes - both or either of them - at any point I chose after your eighteenth birthday, on the condition that I filmed it and sent it to him so he could jerk out a load over it. Son, it’s not been lost on me that you’ve been bugging your eyes out every time you’ve seen me without a shirt on or wearing a jock in the last couple weeks. That’s why I’ve been doing it. You’ve been biting your lip, desperate to suck me off, haven’t you, boy? Yeah. Well like I said, the bill comes due. 

Knees, faggot. Now. Good boy. 

Here’s what’s gonna happen, son. You’re gonna beg to suck my fat cock, and I mean you’re gonna sound fucking desperate. And you’re gonna call me Daddy while you’re begging. Then I’m gonna film you going to town on my dick, and after I’ve creamed, I’m gonna send the video to your dad.

So, you wanna suck Daddy’s big dick, son? Yeah? What was that, boy? ‘Please fuck my faggot mouth, Daddy’? Good boy. You know your place, don’t you, son? Yeah - on your knees begging for your Daddy’s dick. Go on then, boy. Get it in your mouth. All the way down, faggot. Slobber all over that meat. That’s the fucking stuff, boy, just like that. I want your nose buried in my fucking pubes, faggot. Go on, gag on that cock. Slut.

Fucking hell, Mick, I’ve gotta tell you, your son’s throat and mouth might be the sweetest I’ve ever had my cock in. It’s like I’m thrusting into silk. And he knows just how to deep throat a cock. Look up at the camera, boy. Yeah, let your dad see what a dirty cocksucking little faggot you are for big, hairy daddy bears. 

Good boy. You want your dad’s meat up your arse, don’t you, boy? There’ll be plenty of time for that, believe me. You ain’t going anywhere, faggot. For now, though, I need to shoot. Hands up on Daddy’s big hairy chest, boy. Run your fingers through that fucking rug. Good boy. You like that, don’t you, eh? Yeah. Maybe when I finally get around to raping your arse, I’ll let you bury your face in it while I cream up that cunt. 

In the meantime, boy, get tugging Daddy’s nipples. Harder. Harder, faggot. Fuck yeah. Feel my hands on the back of your head there, son? That’s the signal I’m taking full control of this blowjob, boy. I’m gonna fuck your face for you. I’m gonna thrust to the back of your throat and when I nut, it’ll be all over your fucking tonsils. You’ll have no choice but to swallow it all. 

Mick, I’m about to cum in your faggot son’s mouth. When I’ve finished, I’m pressing Send on this video, and I’m gonna give you half an hour to watch it, jack off and then get over here. 

You ready, faggot? Here comes Daddy’s load, you cunt. Oh, oh fuck, fuck, FUUUUUCK YEAH, YOU DIRTY LITTLE SLUT. FUCK. 

Open your mouth, boy. Yeah, just to prove you’ve swallowed the fucking lot like the whore you are. Good boy. See you in 30 minutes, Mick.

And that’s it sent, faggot. Now get under that rim seat over there. When your dad gets here, I want him to hear you fucking begging to rim and tongue my sweaty arsehole. Then after I’ve had a little talk with him, I’m gonna have him begging me to turn you into my collared slave and rape a load up your virgin cunt right in front of him. Show him what he’s never gonna get to fuck. I’ve seen your dad’s hard drive, and if he doesn’t want the police to see it too, he’ll do whatever he’s told. I’ll be inviting him round here every Saturday night to watch me and my mates gang raping your cunt, boy. And if he’s lucky, I’ll let him lick your pussy juice off my cock when we’ve finished. That’s as close as he’s ever gonna get to fucking your twat. Now get under that seat on your back, bitch. Tongue out, and start French kissing my arsehole like a good slut. Fuck yeah, boy. Right where you fucking belong. 

Blog Masterpost

This post is updated with links to all the writing I've posted so far. Each chapter will have its own tags, I suggest you check before you read.

A Rough Ride

Acclimatisation

Chapter 2

The Baker's Assistant (macro)

Chapter 2

An Overbearing Flatmate

Up the Creek (macro)

Chapter 2 / 3

Acclimatisation

An orc gives a human a helpful lesson.

There was a certain kind of human that couldn't resist an orc. The man between Barric's legs was obviously a prime example. He had been a soldier at one point. Barric could see the kingdom's emblem tattooed on his shoulder. That didn't mean much now. The little man had given him puppy eyes from across the square. He had made an attempt to arrange it back into a glare when Barric met his eyes.  A few looks, a hand signal or two, and the little man had followed Barric out the square. Now they were in an empty stable. Barric was sitting on a bench, legs spread wide. The little man was on his knees in the straw with dirt on his breeches and Barric's fat cock in his mouth. A little tongue lapped at his dirty foreskin, licking up his filth. Barric patted his head, encouraging him to get stuck in. An orc was a lot bigger than the average human. He knew this. The little man knew this. Barric also knew that with a little patience, a little discipline, and a little gentleness, that wasn't an obstacle to a well-trained human. Very gently, he began to nudge his way into the man's mouth. Mild noises of indignation. The first step was to be strict. Barric held him there until the wriggling stopped and a little tongue started tasting again. Good. Barric was starting to get hard. He slowly filled up the man's mouth. Now the human was getting nervous again. Hold him still, pet his hair until he got used to it. Bury himself a little deeper. Soothe the accompanying nerves, feel the warmth of his throat as he pushed in again, repeat. A gag. He chuckled.

“It's alright.” Probably didn't understand Orcish. The back of a little throat. Barric waited a little longer, then he gripped the base of his thick cock and angled it down the best he could. A little further in. This bit was the hardest. He let the man gag it out, hushing him soothingly, until little lungs worked out how to take shallow breaths around him. Slowly, patiently, he filled up an expectant little throat with his cock. They were interesting things, humans. Oddly warlike in groups. But surprisingly well suited to companionship. Something about orcs in particular made their bodies respond a certain way. To adjust, essentially. It was fascinating to see it in action. Panic became regular nerves, then nerves cycled to mildly overwhelmed enjoyment, and then the little man was aroused again. Barric ruffled his hair. He was almost in now. A little nose buried itself in his bush, wrinkling. Barric felt his brow crease in amusement. He had been helping out the leatherworkers today. He wasn’t exactly smelling fresh after all that work. It would be fine. Orc stink was almost a drug to a human like this one. Barric started to move. Out by just an inch at first. Keep it slow. In carefully. Pick up the pace. Before long, he was fucking a little throat. The key was to hold the human in place. The back was different. Some proper preparation and a decent amount of lube went a long way. But the front needed care. Little necks were fragile. Being held in place made sure the little man wouldn't hurt himself and that Barric could get his pleasure uninterrupted. Little repetitive gags. It was always a little too much for them, really. But now the pleasure was in control, not the pain. The standard had been established, the little man knew his place, and Barric had free rein. The curve of his dick felt just right. He could feel the soft insides of the human's throat on every vein and pore of his thick cock. Finally, he came, filling up a little belly. He panted in pleasure, pumping a few last thrusts into the human's throat. That delicious feeling of his balls emptying into a willing receptacle. He held the little man there a little longer. That last pullout could be rough on a tired little throat. Barric liked to let himself soften first, it was gentler. He rubbed soothing circles over a small skull. He was a good little man. It was important to get that across. Carefully, gently, he began to pull out. Then he paused. His balls weren't the only thing that was full. He looked down. An obedient little blink, the human's attitude temporarily fucked out of him. He grinned and relaxed. His piss sprayed into the little man's throat. A surprised little splutter. He set a leg over the little man’s shoulder to make sure he didn't get any silly ideas. Barric exhaled in pleasure, holding his new toy in place, marking his territory. Angry little noises. Too much for him, of course. Barric chuckled as rancid yellow urine streamed out over a little chin. His tunic went from cream to dark yellowish-grey. Dripping from head to toe. It felt right. Barric made sure he pulled out before he was fully spent, smacking a little face with his limp cock. He stood up and looked down. Aim carefully. The last contents of his bladder drained over the little man's head. He couldn't have such an important part of him remain unmarked.  Then he was done. He tucked himself back into his furs. The human seemed too stunned to react. A look down at little hands, wet with stinking orcish urine. A puddle, staining the straw around his feet. Barric nudged his shoulder affectionately and wandered off. He knew where to find him, the little man worked at a stall in the market. Barric would be back. There was a lot more training to do, but it was a good start.

Luke was having a lazy Sunday. He’d gotten snacks, cracked a beer, and had just flipped the TV to catch the start of the soccer game he was planning on watching for the next few hours when his doorbell rang. He sighed, getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

As he opened the door, he saw his downstairs neighbor Bill standing there, scratching his stomach, casually waving with the other. “Hey bud, you mind if I come over and watch the game? My TV just went out.”

Luke sighed, having hoped to just zone out and enjoy himself for the afternoon. It wasn’t that Bill was a bad dude by any means - his neighbor was probably ten years older than he was, and a bit loud, and a bit more of a slob. Not that Luke had a whole lot of room to talk on that front. “Aw that sucks bud, sure you can come in and grab a seat.” Luke said and let Bill walk by him into his living room.

“Thanks bud, beer in the fridge?” Bill said, slapping Luke on the shoulder as he passed. Luke nodded, but was hit just after with a wave of musk as Bill wedged by, scratching his ass as he moved into the other room. It was a mix of stale armpit, sweat, and plain old man musk. It was so powerful, it made Luke’s head swim a little bit, having to take a moment to try to get a breath of fresh air, feeling the strangest mix of lightheaded ness and giddiness from the brief whiff. He made his way to his favorite spot in the middle of the couch as he heard Bill rooting around in his fridge, the lingering smell of his passage still hanging in the room. Each breath, Luke felt himself strangely relax, feeling like he was sinking down into the couch, barely able to focus on the opening of the game on the television.

Bill came back into the room, stopping between Luke and the television, his ass obscuring Luke’s field of view. “Wait, where’s the game? Football’s on channel eight!” He turned around, looking for the remote, only to see Luke on the couch, almost enthralled with the larger man’s presence. He smirked as he watched Luke’s breaths catch, more of Bill’s scent falling off of him. Each breath he took, Luke sunk a little further in his seat, his frame diminishing little by little. “Oh damn little bud, I didn’t know you swung that way. My smell has a certain effect on guys who are into other guys - makes them shrink. I’d say I’m sorry, but you look like you’re starting to enjoy it.” Bill said, noticing the hard lump in Luke’s shorts even as he grew smaller and smaller on the couch, looking like an action figure on the cushion. “That’s the other thing my smell does to guys like you, makes them want to smell it more. Don’t worry, to repay you for letting me watch the game, I’ll give you all you could want.”

With that, Bill turned back toward the TV, remote in hand. All Luke could see was the man’s massive shorts-clad ass descend towards him, and in seconds he was buried underneath it, pressed deep into the cushion of his own couch, surrounded by ass fat and Bill’s pure unfiltered scent. Bill laughed as he flipped the channels over to the football game, and leaned back, cracking his beer open. Before long, the little lump between his cheeks began to squirm, and he knew it was from sheer dumb bliss. He worked his own hand into his shorts, fondling himself as he thought about all the fun he was going to have with his newfound plaything once the game was over. After a few hours under him, breathing in his musk, the little man would be a mindless slave, only wanting more.

A Rough Ride

A hot afternoon on a bus ends with Jake getting up close and personal with a stranger's armpits.

Public transport was never fun. It was a sweltering summer afternoon. Sweat trickled down Jake’s temple. He was trapped in a corner, his hand wedged awkwardly between two strangers as he tried to hang on to the railing. He looked around. “Hello? A bit of space, please?” No reaction. Of course not. Even he couldn’t hear his own voice, let alone anyone else. The after-work rush was too loud. He looked around. No space anywhere. Except… there. There was a corner. Filled up by a hulking figure. Some kind of tradesman, dirt smeared across his forearms. Wearing a tank top and cargo trousers, his jacket discarded over his knee. The rest of the bus had left an automatic space around him. He was sitting down, too big to fit on a seat. Still taller than Jake. Jake winced as the bus ground to a halt and his wrist twisted uncomfortably. He made a decision. He threaded between cramped forms, towards the corner. Massive crossed legs. He hopped over a knee and grabbed onto the rail. A big eye cracked open. The giant looked down. An unreadable expression. He pulled out an earbud.

“Sorry, sir. I am in desperate need of space. You mind if I hang on?” A lazy scan up and down his body. Jake blinked.

“Be my guest.” The giant put his earbud back in. Jake shook himself off. It was just a look. Nothing that weird. The huge man already had his earbuds back in, huge eyes staring out the window. Jake settled in. He was a little comfier than before. A little too aware of the heat pouring off the massive body next to him. The bus ground to a halt again. Too abrupt. He was thrown against a massive, muscular shoulder. 

“Sorry.”

“Hmm.” A giant hand boosted him upright again. The man didn’t look down. The hiss of the doors opening, more people getting on. Even the space around the giant was filling up now. Jake was forced a little closer. The giant reached up to hang onto the railing above them, exposing his side. Jake flushed a little as he smelled sweat. He kept his eyes fixed firmly out the window next to him. The faint beat of music from above. The bus lurched. Jake hung on. Someone behind him wasn’t so careful. A shove. He stumbled forward, into something damp and warm. A faceful of thick, sweaty hair. A giant armpit. Worse, he had the breath knocked out of him. He pushed his way out and inhaled. Not far enough away. A lungful of hard labour. Pure, uninhibited, absolutely rank. Had the giant been working the whole day in burning sunlight? Jake’s libido had neither common sense nor manners. He could feel everything starting to move downstairs. He whirled around, taking in a breath of relative fresh air. Forget this. He needed to get out. A big hand caught his hip as he made a break for it. He looked up. A wide, unshaven jaw.

“Where are you going? It’s packed.”

“Uh. Sorry, sir. I think I see an open seat.” The same lazy, hungry look, up and down his body. The giant stopped on his crotch. Back to his eyes. A long, awkward silence. A flicker of something. Terrified, Jake waited for the giant to speak.

“If there was a seat, it’s gone now. Stay here, you're better off.” Locked in place by a firm hand, Jake felt his leg twitching nervously. The bus stopped again. The giant held him secure. There were more people getting on. The giant glanced from side to side. Something devious in his expression. “Are you getting off soon, little man?”

“No, sir. Sorry, sir. Fourteen - maybe fifteen stops. Right at the end of the line. I can, uh. Move somewhere else.” A second hand landed on his arm. He felt his adam’s apple catch in his throat. 

“Calm down. You're going to go through hell if you go out in this crowd. I'll keep an eye out for you until your stop.” Slowly, leisurely, the giant looked back down. He fixed Jake in his gaze. Eyes locked on Jake’s, he shifted Jake behind his bulk, trapping him in the corner. Jake let out a weak protest as the rest of the bus disappeared from view. Next to him, a huge hand pulled down the blinds. No window outside. No view of the rest of the bus. Just vast, sweaty bulk. The giant turned back around. Jake wasn't sure whether he was protected or trapped. This close, there was no avoiding the man’s smell. Pure, shameless, rank. He tried not to breathe through his nose. Against all the odds, he had darkness now. The bus was still loud, dozens of voices fighting to be heard over one another. He let out a half-hearted squeak. Again, not even loud enough to reach his own ears. The giant raised an arm again and Jake’s eyes widened as a dense thicket of hair unfolded. Deliberately, purposefully, the hulking man leaned in. Jake’s mouth went dry as the jungle got closer. His back hit a padded wall then his head followed. The vast forest of hair just kept on advancing. The tickle of curly hair against his chin. The giant’s arm rested on the wall above him. He tried to voice a stammering complaint. Lost in bulk and fur and stink as the giant settled in. A rumbling, comfortable yawn. Outside, it looked like he was trying to politely fit himself in the corner. No one could see the ordeal to which he was subjecting Jake. Every bump and pothole sent him deeper into the stinking forest. The giant treated him like a sweatrag, the pure size difference leaving him helpless. He didn't even think anyone had seen the moment when the giant had stowed him away, busy as the bus was. The simmering summer heat was still roasting him alive. His own sweat was lost, though, barely a few drops to the river pouring down the hulking giant’s form. Foul, salty liquid soaked his face. A moment of respite as the giant took a deep draught of water from a flask. Jake wiped his face, looking up, completely overwhelmed. A smug grin. The giant at least shoved the flask towards him. He attempted to take it. Ignored. Huge hands pushed it against his lips until he opened up. The flask tipped. Cool water ran down his throat until it spilled over the sides of his mouth, then the giant took it back and screwed on the lid. Jake reeled beneath him. Before he had regained his composure, a colossal arm embedded him back in a vast armpit. Trapped again in the thicket of the giant's hair. A massive, casual foot tapped to the beat of the giant’s music. A satisfied grunt.

“You’re the perfect height, little man.” Jake tried to muster up some backbone.

“Sir. I think you’re, um. A bit close.”

“I’m fine.” Jake shut his mouth. The giant stayed exactly where he was. It was a long bus ride on a good day, let alone with a stinking stranger forcing Jake into his pits. A few more stops went by. They were getting further out the city now. He could hear people leaving, even if he couldn't see it. It was getting quieter. There was space. Jake wriggled. An irritated grunt. The giant lifted an earbud for a moment.

“What is it?”

“I can hear people leaving. I'll go get a seat.”

“No. You stay here.” Jake looked up at him, feeling his defiance brew. He wouldn't just take this sort of humiliation.

“Okay.” His mouth had apparently not got the message. He opened his mouth to try again. Brick and loam and work. Power, stench, uninhibited and raw. He shuddered a little. He didn’t even want to fight back. He inhaled, deep and eager. A chuckle.

“That’s more like it.” They ground to a halt again. The sound of seats emptying. Finally, the giant lifted. A brief glimpse of empty seats. Almost empty now they were out the city. Jake stood up just in time for the giant’s second stinking armpit to crush him back into the wall behind him. “I’m just getting comfy, little man.” Colossal hands knocked him back on to his ass.The giant rubbed his arm over Jake’s face to find a decent fit in his new position, then settled back in. Another stop. One or two more getting off. The giant clicked his tongue. A huge hand reached down to Jake’s crotch. Jake had to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from whimpering. He swatted ineffectually at giant fingers. Low, barely perceptible noises of amusement. Jake's mouth fell open a little. A deep voice.

“Lick.” Had he heard right? A low rumble above him. “Use that tongue, little man. The bus is empty. The driver can't see you. Clean my pits out.” Cheeks burning red, Jake stuck out his tongue. Salty, overwhelming sweat. Dense fur. A big hand landed on the back of his head. Vast, hairy skin over Jake’s face. “Keep that tongue out.” The giant stranger used him like a gym towel, forcing him to soak up his stench. For a moment, Jake thought it was over, then the giant landed his fingers back on Jake’s crotch. “Horny little fucker.” His hand popped open Jake’s jeans. A huge hand went down his trousers. Against his dick, then further, tracing over his taint. Back on his dick. The giant started to rub. Jake tried to get away. A derisive snort. Relentless, unyielding pleasure. Stinking, sweaty pit hair over Jake’s face. Scent, heat, sweat. Jake gave up and humped the giant’s hand. The giant growled, forcing him to slow down. Power, friction. Desperately huffing a stranger's sweat-drenched armpit on a public bus, a couple of huge fingers stroking him idly through his boxer-briefs, Jake finally came. He whimpered as he soaked soft fabric. The giant chuckled. “There we go. Good timing. This next one is our stop, little man.” He didn’t stop using Jake to wipe up his sweat, big hand still stroking him past his orgasm.

“But-” The giant drove his armpit down. Jake was well and truly spent. He panted into heat and darkness.

“This stop is yours.” Jake squirmed helplessly in his grasp. A release in the pressure, just enough to let him get his head out. Two more stops before his. He looked up. Massive eyes, staring down. A huge eyebrow raised. “Well?” Jake screwed his eyes up as meaty fingers flexed against his crotch.

“This one's m-mine.” A satisfied grin. The giant finally let go of his crotch, leaving him to fidget uncomfortably in the mess he had made. He rested back down over Jake’s face. A few more minutes buried in his stinking armpit. Finally, the giant let him go. A massive jacket fell into his lap. 

“You want to leave with your dignity in one piece?” It was too late for that. He tied it around himself anyway. It hit the floor, so he had to tie it over his shoulders instead. Still trailing. Crouched over him, hand enveloping Jake's side in an open statement of possession, the giant ferried Jake to the front of the bus. Jake couldn't meet the driver's eyes. 

“T-thanks.” A deep voice above him. 

“Ta, boss. We’re the last two on board. Have a good evening.” Jake stepped down. A colossal leg landed by his side. An empty street. The giant stood to his full height. The bus drove off behind them. The giant looked down the length of his body with a smirk, tucking away his earbuds.

“Alright, little man. Let's see how else I can make you squirm.”

Oliver and Tate have been friends their whole lives. Despite their huge height differences they got along extremely well. As kids Tate would invite Oliver to sleep over all the time and this continued into their adult lives.

As Oliver got older he began to notice Tates dad, Jon.He was a big man, but not in an unattractive way. His tummy was plush and he had a huge round ass.Oliver had to restrain himself from staring at him, but sometimes he would sneak peeks of him walking around the house in his underwear. Oliver would always feel guilty afterwards though.

On this particular night Tate and Oliver were sitting on the couch watching a movie. Half way through their viewing Jon comes in looking exhausted, Oliver got a quick glance catching a good view of his ass.

Oliver quickly turned his attention back on the movie, but all he could think about was Jon’s ass. Oliver was so distracted he didn't even notice Tate asking him a question.

"Yo, Earth to Oli?" Tate said

"Oh sorry, I spaced out"

"I can see that. I was just asking if you wanted to watch something else"

"Nah, this is fine…I just need to use the restroom real quick"

"Alright dude, I'll wait for you"

"Thanks man"

Oliver excused himself and headed for the bathroom. As he walked down the hall he noticed the bathroom door was closed.The only other person it could be was Jon, As he stared at the door he noticed the space underneath the door was wide enough for him to go under. His curiosity got the best of him and he decided to give it a shot.

Crawling on his hands and knees, Oliver slid under the door and into the bathroom. The light was dim, but he could still make out Jon was sitting on the toilet, his huge frame filling up the small space. His dad bod was even more impressive up close, and Oliver couldn't help but admire it. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue or not, when he heard the toilet flush.

Jon stood up and turned around, revealing his naked back to Oliver. The sight was breathtaking. It was the first time he’s seen anyone nude in person and was a little sad Jon had put on his grey boxers again.

Oliver felt a mixture of shame and excitement as he continued to stare at his friend's dad. He wanted to admire his huge frame, but also didn't want to get caught. Jon walked over to the sink, his massive thighs and calves flexing with each step. Oliver watched in awe as watched him wash his hands, the water running over his hairy forearms.

He was so close, yet so far. Oliver debated for a moment on whether or not to reveal himself. His curiosity was overwhelming, but he didn't want to ruin their friendship or make Jon uncomfortable. Just as he was about to make a decision, he heard a booming fart come from the big man. An audible yelp escaped Oliver, he was startled by the sudden noise.

Jon looked down and saw the tiny man “what the fuck, how long have you been there?

Oliver froze, his heart racing. He stammered out an apology, unable to meet Jon’s gaze. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I…” he couldn’t come up with an excuse

Jon sighed, his eyes narrowing as he studied Oliver. He seemed to be weighing his options before he finally spoke. "Well, I guess you're a grown man now. You can handle seeing me like this, right?"

Jon chucked, “….so you liked what you saw huh?”

Oliver's face turned bright red as he nodded, unable to form any words. Jon grinned, his eyes raking over Oliver's small form.

Jon reached down and grabbed Oliver lifting him up to his eye level. Jon moves Oliver to his chest, resting him between his plush pecs.

“You like this little man?”

Oliver couldn’t believe this was happening, his whole body tingling with excitement. Jon squeezed Oliver between his pecs causing him to moan. Oliver could feel his cock hardening, straining against the fabric of his underwear.

Jon chuckled, enjoying the effect he was having on the small man. He continued squeezing Oliver, alternating between his pecs. Oliver moaned and squirmed, his cock throbbing with need. Jon lowered him down towards his belly, pressing him into the soft flesh. Oliver buried his face in Jon's tummy, inhaling the big mans musk.

Jon let oliver lay on his tummy for a while, his breathing becoming heavy. Oliver could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his excitement building. Jon eventually lifted oliver up, holding him in front of his face. Oliver gazed up at him, his eyes full of lust.

"Should we take this somewhere else?” Jon asked

Oliver eagerly nodded. Jon carried Oliver into his bedroom and placed him on the bed. Oliver laid back, watching as Jon turned around clenching his cheeks.

“You know i’ve caught you staring at my ass a couple times… do you like it when i play with it?” Jon teased

Oliver whimpered, his cock twitching. Jon smirked and began groping his ass, massaging the thick globes. Oliver watched in awe, his eyes glued to the big mans ass.

As Jon kept showing off he heard a knock at his door. Without thinking Jon slammed his ass down on Oliver keeping him hidden. Tate walks in confused

Jon tried his best to act normal, hoping Tate didn't notice Oliver. "Hey son, what's up?"

Tate shrugged, looking around the room. "Nothing much, I was just wondering where Oli was. He's been gone for a while"

Jon panicked, trying to think of an excuse. "Oh uh, he said he wasn't feeling well so he went home"

Tates brow furrowed, concern flashing across his face. "Is he okay? Should I go check on him?"

Jon quickly shook his head, not wanting Oliver discovered. "No no, he'll be fine. Don't worry about him"

Tate sighed, reluctantly accepting Jon's explanation. "Alright, if you say so. Well goodnight dad"

Jon breathed a sigh of relief as Tate left the room, closing the door behind him. Oliver let out a muffled moan, causing Jon to remember he was trapped under his ass. Jon quickly lifted his ass, plucking Oliver from his ass crack.

Oliver gasped for air, his face covered in Jon's musk. Jon smirked, watching Oliver try to compose himself.

"Well that was close"

Oliver nodded, still a little dazed.

“You ok little man?”

Oliver nodded again, regaining his composure. Jon grinned, admiring olivers small frame.

"So, where were we?"

Jon lowered oliver back onto the bed, his huge form looming over him. Oliver trembled with anticipation.

“You know you’re pretty comfortable to sit on” Jon teased

Olivers cock twitched, his mind racing with possibilities. Jon chuckled, enjoying Oliver’s reactions.

"You like that idea huh? Having my big ass sit on you?" Jon smirked

Oliver whimpered, his face turning bright red. Jon grinned, his eyes full of mischief.

"well why don't we try it out again"

Jon slowly lowered his ass onto oliver, enveloping him in his warm flesh. Oliver moaned, his cock throbbing.Jon wiggled back and forth a few times causing Olive to moan louder.

"You like that huh? My ass smothering you"

Oliver nodded, his cock aching with desire. Jon grinned, grinding Oliver between his cheeks. Oliver moaned, his cock leaking precum. Jon continued grinding, his huge ass swallowing up the small man. He let out a huge fart over the tiny man

Oliver moaned. Jon chuckled, enjoying Oliver's reactions.

And let another huge fart over the tiny man.

PFFFFTTT

Jon stood up and looked down at tiny man covered in sweat.

“You’re an interesting kid, getting turned on by my gas, you like sniffing up farts like a perv?” Jon teased

Oliver whimpered, embarrassed Yet turned on by Jon calling him a perv. Jon chuckled

“Let’s kick it up a notch huh?” Jon says turning back around and dropping his boxers.

Oliver gasped, Jon ass was huge. His cheeks were round and plush, his crack was deep and hairy. Oliver was mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes away. Jon smirked, “Think you can handle all this ass kid?” Jon says making his ass shake with his hands.

Oliver nodded eagerly. Jon grinned, squatting Over tiny man ready to sit on him again.

Oliver can feel Jon ass lowering closer to him. As Jon ass hits his face he lets out another huge fart

PPPPFFFFFFF

Jon sits down fully engulfing oliver between his cheeks. Jon bounces his ass up and down causing Oliver to moan.

PPPPFFFFF

PPPPPPPFFFFTTTT

Jon continues farting over his tiny body. Olivers cock is rock hard, his moans muffled by Jon's ass.

PPPPFF

PPPPPFFFFFTTT

Jon continues bouncing his ass, Olive moaning with each bounce. Olivers cock is throbbing, his need for release growing. Jon stops bouncing oliver and lifts his ass revealing the tiny man.

Oliver is a mess, his face is covered in musk. His cock is rock hard, leaking precum. Jon chuckles, enjoying olivers disheveled state.

“You like that kid? There more where that came from!”. He slams his ass back into his tiny game

PPPPPPFFFT

PPPPFFFFF

Jon farts a huge one covering tiny man again. Oliver moans, his cock aching.

PPPFFFFFF

PPPFFFFFF

Oliver can feel his cock twitching, his orgasm building. Jon continues farting, his ass shaking with each blast.

PPPPPPPPPPFF

PPPPPPPFFFTT

Oliver couldn’t hold it in, his cock exploding with cum. He moans, his body shuddering. Jon chuckles, feeling Oliver cock pulse with each spurt.

Jon lifts his ass and sees the tiny man laying there, spent. Oliver is covered in his own cum, his face is still red.

"you like that huh, you like getting covered in my ass sweat and farts"

Oliver nods, still in a daze. Jon chuckles, enjoying olivers reactions.

Oliver was spent, his mind reeling from the experience. He had never felt such pleasure before, and he wanted more.

Jon sat back on the bed and stretched,

PPPPPFFFFFFFFFTTTT

Oliver let out a small gasp as another huge fart blasted him with musky ass smell. Jon smirked as he watched Oliver struggle to compose himself.

Oliver felt so vulnerable, he was at the big mans mercy and yet he loved it. Jon had total control over him, and he knew it. Jon continued farting, filling the room with his stench.

"You really like that huh. want to spend the night with me?"

Oliver nodded eagerly. He couldn't imagine wanting anything else. Jon grinned, enjoying olivers eagerness.

"Good, i gotta wake up early for work tomorrow so in you go!”

Jon picks Oliver up and slides him inside his boxers, and puts them on. his small body pressed against Jon's hairy asshole. Oliver couldn't believe his luck. He was so happy, he felt so safe. Jon crawled into bed, his huge body dwarfing Oliver.

Jon rolled onto his back and settled in. Oliver could feel the big man's weight pressing down on him, it was incredible. Oliver laid there, surrounded by Jon's warmth. The smell was overwhelming, but he loved it. He knew he would never be able to get enough.

Jon's body relaxed as he drifted off to sleep. Oliver laid there, unable to sleep. He couldn't believe he was here, inside Jon's boxers. He knew it would be difficult to breathe, but he didn't care. He was where he wanted to be.

Oliver was jolted from his thoughts by a loud fart from the big man. The smell was intense, making him light headed. He let out a small gasp as Jon shifted his position, causing him to be pressed against Jon's hairy ass even more. He was in heaven.

Oliver slowly drifted off to sleep, surrounded by Jon's warmth and scent.

An Overbearing Flatmate

Cole moves in with a man who treats his boundaries as flexible.

Cole moved up north in late spring. Everyone was a lot bigger once you crossed the border. It was a strange feeling. He found a flat quickly. One flatmate. A man named Mack. A bit of an animal, but he seemed like a nice guy, even if it was strange only coming up to his crotch. The flat was mostly divided, a kitchen in the middle linking two bedrooms together. At first, Mack had been a good flatmate. He was touchy. A little bit bossy. But he was a good cook, and Cole enjoyed the attention. Then things started getting out of control. He would wake up on the sofa in the giant's lap. The lock on the bathroom Mack promised he would fix just sat there, broken. Quick hugs became full-on cuddle sessions. Cole tried to wriggle out the first couple of times. The bastard seemed to think that was funny. Cole ended up sleeping on his chest in his room one night after one too many drinks, and a few days later Mack packed up his bed. 

“No point using this room for you if you’re going to spend every night in my bed, bud.”

“I pay rent.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve got a bed, we can both use this room for storage. It all works out.” Cole was quickly discovering that Mack was difficult to persuade when he had his mind set on something, so he gave up. It felt right to curl up into Mack’s side at night and wake up with a huge chest rising and falling beneath him. A couple of days after that, things got out of control again. It was a Friday evening. Cole was exhausted and he needed a shower. He had barely stepped in when Mack opened the bathroom door. Cole scrambled to cover himself, spinning around. “Relax, pup. Only me.” A heavy stream into the toilet. No sound of zipping up. Instead, the shower door opened behind him. A big shadow fell over him. Cole yelped. Ignored.

“Let's see. Hmm. I want to make sure the hot water still goes on both showerheads at the same time, bud.” Fabric hit the floor. “You can watch if you like, bud. I know you like seeing me get undressed.” Cole weighed up his options. Cautiously, he looked over his shoulder. Mack was already shirtless. He kicked off his trousers easily, giving Cole a wink. One of his usual sweaty, stained jockstraps. Mack grabbed his arm and pulled him out a little, shoving the jock into his face, before he tossed it behind him with a chuckle and stepped in, ruffling his hair. His stink filled up the cubicle as he turned on the bigger showerhead above them. “Not too bad. How's yours?” He tested the water above Cole. Cole grumbled as he was wedged further into the corner, Mack’s massive frame filling the space. “All seems to work.” He reached for shower gel.

“Uh. Are you taking a shower as well now?”

“Why did you think I was stripping?”

“Well, I -” Mack lathered up his pecs, flexing them. Soft muscle beneath huge hands. Cole forgot what he was saying. 

“If you’re just going to stand there, bud, you might as well get my back for me.” Mack handed him a washcloth, sitting down. Cole's resistance was more or less broken by now. Vast muscles flexed beneath his hands. A low, satisfied rumble. “Good boy.” He pulled Cole round to his front. Cole felt his throat dry out. He swallowed. “You're a handsome little man.” Mack cupped the back of his head, pulling him in. Cole opened his mouth automatically as huge lips got closer. Then a colossal tongue filled his mouth, wrestling him into submission. His air was running out. He patted Mack’s chest desperately. A snort. Mack let him pull away, thick saliva falling across his chest before the water washed it away, then a huge hand covered his head again and wet muscle invaded his throat. When Mack was finally satisfied, he wedged Cole into his chest. 

“Fair play to you, lad. You’ve got a decent little pair of lungs on you. I would ask if you’re happy, but I think your body is answering that already.”

“Uh. Yeah. I’m good. Well. I’m pissed off.” Big hands lathered him up, ignoring his protests. Cole was already putty in his hands. Meaty fingers squeezed his butt.

“You know, bud, you don’t have to pretend to be mad. Just settle in. Enjoy the moment.” Cole squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. Mack leaned back against the shower wall, letting Cole fall into his chest, taking on most of his weight. He squirted lube onto his palm and looked down, grinning as Cole burrowed into his giant, hairy chest. Mack took him apart effortlessly. When he was done, he towelled Cole down and ferried him through to the bedroom. 

“But we just -”

“That was just foreplay, bud. Hands and knees now.” Mack was insatiable. By the end of the weekend, every muscle in Cole’s body was destroyed. That was the end of his independence. Mack had him in every possible way at that point, and the asshole knew it. After a few months, there were mass layoffs at Cole’s company. Even after moving all the way up north for them, Cole was one of the first to be fired. Mack, though, was nothing but supportive.

“I only wanted a flatmate for company anyway, bud. Forget rent for a bit.”

“It’s fine. I have savings. I’ll start looking for another job. Up here or down south, whichever.”

“No need, bud. Take a few months, sort yourself out.”

“No, really, I -”

“I said no, bud.” The giant was firm. Cole shut up. Whenever Cole bought up going back to work again, Mack just brushed him off with a chuckle and a ‘Never mind about that, bud.’ Cole had looked for jobs anyway. The first time Mack saw it, he had walked over. A big hand ruffled his hair. “You can't apply for that one, pup. It's too far for a commute. Stop that for a second, I ran us a bath.” An hour later, as he dozed off on Mack's chest with cum leaking out his ass, Cole was too deep in the afterglow to care when he remembered. The second time. Mack had just picked him up and carried him to the sofa, using his tongue effectively enough to wipe all thoughts of work off his mind. The third time was the last.

“If I see you on a job site again, pup, you're going over my knee.” Past experience told Cole this was not an empty threat.

“I’m trying to get off my ass and do some work.”

“It's an insult to me. Am I not keeping you happy?”

“Well - yes.”

“Am I not taking care of you financially?”

“I suppose.”

“And I still work you hard, don’t I?” Cole glared at him.

“Yes.”

“Right. Then enough of that bullshit. It's not long before dinner. I'll sort out the curry, you grab us some naans from the shop.”

“Fine.”

“Fine, who?”

“Fine, sir.”

“Good boy.” Another infuriatingly reassuring pat on the head, then he ferried Cole through to the kitchen. Mack tanned his ass anyway in the end. Cole, though, curled up on his chest just as happy as normal that night, the throbbing of his ass strangely comfortable, the thug’s all-consuming stench blanketing his senses reassuringly. Now he was - a trophy, more or less. Or a pet. Even worse, he had never been happier. He had plenty of free time. Mack gave him an allowance and a card to use for household and grocery expenses. He was free to come and go while Mack was at work, so long as he was back to help him unwind when he was back and keep his bed warm. They went out for dinner most weeks. Mack made a point of supporting all his hobbies. The giant made sure he ate and slept and exercised. It was hard work keeping up with the stinking brute’s sex drive, but that was hardly a negative. Today, he found himself cross-legged on the sofa. There was a massive, dirty jockstrap on the sofa next to him. He wasn’t allowed to wash Mack’s jocks. Not what they were there for, apparently. He wasn’t allowed to tidy up too much, either. Sweeping up and mopping and basic cleaning was fine, but Mack didn’t like the house too tidy. It wasn’t a hospital, according to him, and that meant leaving his dirty underwear around the place was proper etiquette. Mack was due back through the door any moment now, and for some reason he was looking forward to it. He picked up the jock idly, stretching the massive cup between his hands. Yellowed. A little crusty. The smell of sex and man. Big enough to bury his face in. He sniffed happily. Sweat. Piss. Sex. The same virile, filthy stench that covered the entire flat. Mack’s stench. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a big huff.

“Fully lost in my stink, huh? You didn’t even notice me coming in.” Cole fought his way out, giving him an awkward grin.

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry, sir.”

“No harm in it, bud.” He sat down on his armchair, spreading his legs wide. “Come on. Take my shoes off for me. Get some stink from the source.” Massive, filthy work boots.

“Your feet are gonna be fucking rank after a full day’s work though.”

“Fuck yeah they will. Come on, bud.” Cole shook himself off and kneeled down, tugging at Mack’s laces. He had work to do.

The Baker's Assistant - #2

Huw starts work in the bakery. Down the back of his drawers, Tom is in for a rough ride as he endures the giant's morning gas.

Huw snorted as he felt the little man struggling between his cheeks. Tiny, smothered complaints. Nothing he cared about. A long, satisfying stretch. His guts were growling. He twisted his leg in just the right way and a stream of gas bubbled out of his hole. “Well muffled, lad.” He took in a breath and wrinkled his nose. “Too much stink for you to soak up everything, huh?” He pulled on a pair of trousers. The little man was safely secured in his new lodgings. Huw, meanwhile, had an actual job waiting for him.

Tom was hopelessly disoriented. Colossal walls of fat and muscle had him anchored firm. Blast after blast of casual gas scoured his senses raw with with every shift of Huw's body. Sweltering heat, intestines gurgling, the foul smell of sweat and gas. Tom's skin was slick. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. He let out a shuddering breath, testing his limbs. Flattened tight between colossal slabs of flesh, but still functional. He had to do something. In the darkness, he picked a direction. Huw’s arsecheeks squeezed him gently as he wriggled between them. The smell got worse. He swore as he felt wrinkled, sticky skin.

“No. No no. Fuck no.” An appreciative rumble.

“Good boy. Straight for the source.” He tried to struggle away. A big finger reached in with a gentle poke, pressing his head between filthy, sweaty folds. “Really get in there, lad. Don't be shy.” He yelped. An abyss, opening up in front of him. The warmth and stench of Huw's rectum wafted out. He reached out to push himself away and his hand slipped, plunging into the darkness. The colossal ring of muscle welcomed him eagerly, clamping down. A distant chuckle. He pulled himself out with a desperate squelch, lubed up with whatever unmentionable fluids Huw secreted. He struggled desperately away. Something stopped him. His leg was tangled in something. A curl of thick black hair. A rumble from Huw's depths. He was moving around now, rocking Tom gently as he walked. Satisfied humming. The brute paused to hike up a leg. A grunt. A huge, wet fart buffeted him in a stinking blast of wind. A chuckle from above as he yelped. "Breathe deep, little man. A bit of gas never hurt a boy." Tom squirmed angrily. He shuddered as he inadvertently smeared something sticky over his side. “Good boy. That's what I want. Movement." Distant sound, filtered through layers of fat and hair and muscle. Heavy footsteps. The creak of the stairs, then the kitchen door. The whistle of a kettle. A vast belch. Huw grunted as he felt Tom trying to get away.

On the outside, Huw flicked on the kitchen lights, scratching his belly. He squatted down to light the oven. Gas bubbled out of his arsehole and he huffed in satisfaction as a tiny form wriggled in response. "You're gonna stink of me, little lad." He went about his business, starting to shape loaves of bread, gently flexing his arsecheeks to see how the little man responded. His arsehole kept on trying to suck the little man in. Satisfying. Tiny struggles. The lad was trying to desert his station. He tugged at the back of his trousers.

“I'm not having that, lad.  You're here to work. If you won't lick it, you can go inside it. You smell the outside. You want to taste the inside?" Weak complaining, muffled by his crack.  

"Fat, stinking bas-"

"Three." A yelp. "Two. One." Anxious little squirming. Huw chuckled and let rip another flood of stinking gas. Farts really got the little man wriggling. Sure enough, the feeling of a tiny tongue between the dirty folds of his arsehole. He turned his attention back to his bread, content that his new worker was doing his job. Loaf after loaf, shaped and left to stand. Fart after stinking fart onto his tiny passenger. He moved on to pastries. The odd return to his sourdough to knead the bread. The little man was behaving himself a little more. They always loved How's stench, after a bit of adjusting. A nice wet fart for him. There were still complaints, but he kept close to Huw's shitter. “Good boy.” Huw tasted like nothing else Tom had ever encountered. Bitterness. Salt. Earth. Just raw, overpowering man. He stuck out his tongue and licked. Sticky. His leg was still trapped in a coil of greasy hair. He was tied down into the deepest reaches of Huw's crack, buffeted repeatedly with wet, stinking bursts of gas. He tried not to concentrate too much on what he was tasting. He felt like an animal at a trough, face buried deep in muscle and stink. A warning shift. He pulled back. A blast of noxious gas, the added suction as the giant's arsehole tightened, then it was back to normal. He got back to work. Finally, a big hand reached down.

“You alright there, lad? Feel like I got lint stuck in my crack.”

“I’m tangled in your fucking arse hair!” A chuckle.

“That’s what I mean.” Big fingers reached in, freeing his leg easily. "I forgot to ask. What's yer name, lad?”

“Tom.”

“Tommy, huh? The ovens are on, Tommy. I'm not gonna be checking in with you for a while, so take a deep breath.”

"But-" Huw’s hand disappeared. His glutes closed back in. A lazy flex, and Tom was buried back against Huw’s stinking hole. He yelped as suction wrapped around his head. The sound switched. Curiously muted, the outside world fading. Heavy gurgles, the rumble of gas. Pitch blackness. The simmering threat of something indescribable. Something caught in his throat. Raw, punishing stink. Muscle clenched and he was sucked in a little further. Huw relaxed, and a merciful blast of gas allowed him to pull back. Sticky moisture spattered across him. He took in a desperate breath. Somehow, the outside of Huw’s hole was a relief compared to what lay within. 

Huw reached down to push the little man in as he released a particularly putrid fart. Tiny coughs. He clenched his cheeks firmly to muffle them, then lifted the blinds hiding the kitchen just enough to start sliding trays beneath. The first rays of morning light glowed on the counter. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. He reached down the back of his boxers to shove the little man’s head against his stinking hole, finishing it off with a rank, wet fart. 

The brute was truly the most disgusting being Tom had ever met. He spat out something unmentionable, fighting his way out. He was tired.  He closed his eyes, letting himself slump against the huge, puffy muscle. It pulsed gently. Foul-smelling and warm. Somehow, in spite of everything, his eyelids were closing a little. Huw paused. His new employee had gone limp. He reached down. Sure enough, the tiny man was dozing off. He huffed. "We got to reset yer sleep." He blew gently on the tiny form. A yelp. "Little lad. Can't have you asleep on the job, can I?" Sleepy fear.

"Sorry sir." Huw felt his eyes crinkle.

"I did say I'd feed you to my shitter if you went still again."

"Uh. I can try harder-"

"Shh. It won't be that bad, lad. Just warm and smelly. I'm feeling nice, though. I'll make myself a coffee for now. Should be plenty of gas to wake you up with a few sips." He pulled a towel from the back of his apron and deposited the little man on top, reaching for the kettle. 

Tom blinked sleepily up at him. He looked around. He had never seen the kitchen before. It was rare for him to even be this high up. Huw lit a match, holding under the kettle on the job next to him. A swish of flame as it caught. Tom got to his feet, entranced. "Stay on that towel, lad. I don't want you tracking filth over my kitchen." 

"Whose fault is that?"

"Careful, lad. Until yer debt is paid, I punish you how I see fit. Now.  If I put a little man in a warm, comfy place, I can't really blame him if he falls asleep." The kettle was whistling away happily on the hob. A huge hand shifted the towel into the light. Tom covered his eyes in the sudden brightness. "I think I just accept you get sleepy. So long as yer still with me, we’re good." Huw got about making his coffee. Crushed beans, into a strange little jug. Tom watched him pour water far above, a massive cloud of steam rising up. “Would coffee help? Don’t know if I want to risk seeing if caffeine hurts a tiny man, though.”

“I’ve snuck some of your coffee before when you leave your mug unattended.” A chuckle. Huw reached down and flicked him gently.

“Little rascal.” He poured in a trickle of milk and stirred. “Still, though. It’s proper builder’s tea. Too strong for you.” He glanced down. “That little hard-on has barely gone down since I first locked eyes on you, huh?” Tom smoothed back his hair.

“I think that's just the inevitable part of physical contact. Not my fault.” A huff.

“It's a good thing, lad. That's what makes you my ideal prey. There's no fun in shovin’ a boy up my hole if he doesn't even want it.” Tom crossed his arms half-heartedly. Huw took a draught of his coffee, letting out a cavernous belch. “That’s the stuff.” He paused, making a face. “I can already feel it moving things along downstairs, too. Time for the both of us to get back to work, lad.” Huw pulled down his drawers, turning around. The same view of his glorious, hairy arse. He pulled a cheek aside, letting a wet fart blast Tom's face, splattering him with something wet. Huw’s second hand blocked Tom’s escape and titanic legs backed up slowly, walls of muscle confining Tom once more. A massive finger shoved Tom’s head into the folds of his hole. Huw let his huge arsecheeks back together, sealing his prisoner in. Sticky wetness. Tom fumbled desperately at the folds around him, pulling out his head with a wet squelch and leaning back as far as he could to take a breath in. He had smelled them from the inside already. He didn’t need to do it again. His hands scrabbled in the damp folds. One went in a little. He yelped, trying to pull it out. This time, Huw's asshole wasn't letting go. He tried to wrench harder, kicking, trying not to let another limb get caught. Huw chuckled above him. “Relax, lad. You were going up there sooner or later. You'll be fine. I'll see you later.” Tom kicked his leg in. It went in deep. It gave him enough freedom to pull out his hand, but now he had a new problem. There was suction on his foot. His ankle disappeared into the folds. He could feel simmering heat as warm flesh squeezed it tight. He yelped. “Calm the fuck down, lad. None o’ this needs to be this dramatic. Sit back and enjoy it.” Tom ignore him. He wrapped his hand in his shirt, reaching in to try and loosen up his foot. Hopeless. The suction pulled in his arm again. He let the shirt go, pulling out his hand before he was caught. It disappeared somewhere within. He could feel the fabric running over his foot before it was sucked somewhere deeper. Hot, wet muscle dragged in his calf. He let out a ragged breath. Last try. He braced his hands. Carefully, he tried to kick a fold in the muscle. The tiniest little give. He yanked out his foot, collapsing backwards between Huw's colossal arsecheeks. An earthshaking chuckle around him. “Good effort, lad.” Huw reached down and pushed. His lower half sunk into the giant's arsehole.

“No!” A patient huff.

“Whiny little man. You should be thanking me.” Tom grabbed onto his finger. His hands slid off, slick with sweat. Huw clenched his cheeks and went back to work. Tom was buried too deep now. All he could do was curse wildly at his giant captor and feel sticky heat climb up his torso. He grabbed wildly at an errant hair. His hand slipped off, coated in sweat and slick. Wildly, he tried to push down. One hand vanished. Then the second. Huw's sphincter slurped in his shoulders. Sticky muscle covered his mouth, then his eyes, then Huw's pucker sealed above him with a final, revolting, world-engulfing squelch.

Huw hummed, sipping his coffee, checking the hourglass on the table. He pulled out a tray of loaves, sliding them beneath the blinds to the front of the shop. There were customers now. Voices. Someone was haggling. He smiled to himself, basking in the warmth and the sunlight. He bent down to peer into the oven, drumming his fingers on the counter next to him. Satisfying little wriggles inside him. It wasn't too late to fish Tom out, with a little effort. But he felt like letting nature take its course. The boy would end up back on the outside sooner or later. Another coffee or two and everything would move him back outside anyway. He put on the kettle again and reached for a towel, opening up the oven. Not long before his baking was done for the morning.

The Baker's Assistant

At three inches tall, life is hard. Stowed away above a bakery, Tom could be doing a lot worse - but he hasn't covered his tracks as well as he thought, and the owner is looking for some company as he works.

Tom was, all in all, doing fairly well. The bakery was warm and had enough food to spare. More importantly, no one had noticed him yet. For someone who was about three inches tall, that was about as much as he could ask for. He slept through the morning when baking was going on, he got up in the afternoon and was most active early in the night. It worked well. Right now, it was early in the morning. Perhaps a little risky, but the man whose room he shared - Huw, if he had his name right - always woke up slowly. Tom would be fine. He could hear rumbling snores outside. He set a foot out the edge of the mousehole he had taken over, looking around. All was quiet beneath Huw’s bed. The usual ambient stink of his giant roommate. It was always a dice roll to see if Huw had bothered to take a bath since he had last worked, and the man's stench had a way of working itself into every last corner of the room. The bed was just a pallet, almost low enough to hit even Tom's head. Ahead of him, he could see the edge of a dirty blanket hanging off Huw's mattress. The snores were coming from somewhere further, though. He made his way slowly to the edge of the bed. Old clothes were strewn all over the floor outside. Tom crouched down, peering out. Huw's titanic form was slumped over his desk in a pair of drawers and an undershirt. Tom waited and watched. The loud release of gas. A sleepy grunt, then the snoring started up again. Tom grimaced. Huw didn't come off as a bad person, but the man was an animal masquerading as a human being. Every inch of his massive body was covered in a pelt of dark hair. Wide shoulders, thighs like tree trunks. Tufts of hair stuck out his pits. Tom shook himself off. He had a task to do, and Huw wouldn’t be an issue in this state. There was no need to keep on looking at him. Tom had been living in his walls for months, he knew the man was a heavy sleeper. A faint orange light came from a candle on his desk. Tom picked his way over a filthy sock. The stink of the giant's feet. He wrinkled his nose and continued on. The desk was a sturdy affair. Nothing fancy, but it was functional. More importantly, Huw always had food up there. He looked up as he approached. The man didn’t have his breeches on, of course. His hairy legs would probably be easy to climb up. But he didn't feel like getting himself soaked in sweat, let alone risk waking up the sleeping giant. There were better methods. Huw kept a massive pile of books by his desk. Recipe books, history books he had never read, what Tom was pretty sure was porn. It was a mountain to Tom, but he hardly had anything better to do. He jumped onto the first book. Carefully, he clambered up. Cover after cover, over bookends and bindings. Eventually, he was at the top book, propped up against the back of the desk. He glanced back at Huw. Still slumped back in his chair, a thatch of hair poking out of his undershirt. The swell of his rounded gut. Tom climbed onto the desk and looked around. A plate. Sure enough, some kind of pastry. He hopped onto the plate and took off his bag, sweeping in a few crumbs. That would do him fine. Up and out. Huw was still sleeping. Good. Tom hopped down, scurrying back to the edge of the desk. He stopped. The book he had used to get up had moved. He cocked his head. The snoring. It was gone. He turned around very, very slowly. The eyes of something far, far bigger than him. Huw was awake. Tom began to back off. An arm moved, then a solid wall of corded muscle blocked his escape, shaking the desk beneath him. He stumbled, catching himself. Time to fix his most diusarming smile on his face. A huge mouth opened up a little. A gust of air, then a rough voice boomed out.

“I think we need a little talk, lad.”

“Oh. Um. Do we?”

“Thought the mice were back when you first moved in. Yer lucky I didn't get a cat.” Tom bounced on his toes a little. No visible escape route. An impatient huff above him. The arm moved a little closer. Tom fumbled around for some kind of response.

“Sorry about that. I know it’s not my home. I’ll be right out if you want me to. I just liked having somewhere warm to sleep.”

“We’re all good on that, lad. Honestly, I thought it was cute as fuck to have a little man living in my walls. Yer fully grown, right? Hard to tell when yer this size."

"Yes, sir. Fully grown. Anyway, I would hate to keep you awake if you’re fine with me being here. I know it’s still a little before you start setting the bakery up.” He stepped away, beginning to walk around the towering arm. It blocked his way again, the air shifting as Huw moved. Tom could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

“We ain't done.” He turned around warily, looking up. “Like I said. We’re all good when yer just eating my crumbs in yer little den. Only thing is, some of my clothes are gone lately.” Tom felt ice run down his spine. He gave Huw a polite, quizzical look. “Underwear, actually. Used, sweaty underwear. You wouldn’t know anything about that, lad, would you?” There was a hint of something predatory in his expression now. Tom swallowed.

“Uh. No. I don’t think that’s any of my business.” Huw gave him a smile. The sort of smile a wolf would give a rabbit. Tom started looking for an escape route out the corner of his eyes.

“You’d think, right? But I had a hunch. Call me a nutcase. There’s been two people in my bed. I’m one, and I ain't hiding my own dirty jocks. That leaves one person.”

“Well, that sort of thing can be easy to mispla-” Huw put a fingertip the size of his head over his mouth. Tom swallowed.

“I’m still talkin'. The other day, we were finished up early in the bakery. I knew my little roommate would be asleep still. Thought I’d take a quick look at yer little mousehole. So I lit a candle. I shifted the bed. Was real careful about it. Didn't want to ruin yer sleep. When I bent down to take look, you know what I found?” Tom looked around for an escape.

“Well. I assume it was just me sleeping.”

“That’s right, pipsqueak. Real cute. Just a tiny man, all snuggled up. The problem was what you snuggled up in.” Tom made a decision. He dashed to the side. A huge swat of a giant hand, and he went tumbling back onto the desk. A moment later and giant, sweaty fingers enveloped him. He struggled hopelessly. An impossibly deep chuckle shook his bones. “Now, let’s drop all the bullshite, shall we? You just living under my bed was all good. A few crumbs? I don’t give a shit. That's cute. But stealing my dirty jocks and sleeping under them? That’s something else, boy. Something you got to pay for.” Huw loosened his grip a little, just enough for Tom to free his arms. Tom, unsuccessfully, tried to pry open the huge fingers around his body.

“I promise if you just let me move out -”

“See, I told you already. I like you here. Yer cute. And if I just let you go, you ain't ever gonna pay me back. So it’s time for a deal.” Tom gave up for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. He looked up apprehensively.

“What kind of deal?”

“Yer the kind of little pervert who likes my smelly underwear. Work is hard. I sweat a lot. And, to be honest, I got stink to spare. But that's worth somethin' to the right crowd. I’m big. Real big. People like that. Got plenty of folks who'd pay good money to sniff my jocks. But you don’t have money, do you?” Tom shook his head mutely. “Right. But normally that’s no matter. I’ll give a boy a sweaty jock or two if he agrees to come to the bakery and work for me for a shift or two. But yer not nearly big enough for that. You can’t lift shite. You'd end up under my boots, or in a loaf of bread. We can’t have that. So I had to think again.” Tom stayed quiet. A big, calloused thumb stroked his hair. “Now. Yer a tiny man. That’s got drawbacks, sure. You can’t pay by working in my bakery. You can’t even pay with ass. But early mornings in the bakery get lonely. I like a bit of company while I work. That's where you come in. You'll fit where I want you. You like my sweat. I got a position for you down yer favourite underwear. Yer gonna massage my dick, polish my shitter. Whatever I’m in the mood for. Yer gonna live where I can reach you when I want you. You get to keep on sniffing. I’ll even give you nice fresh pairs when the smell starts fading. How’s that sound?”

“Uh - could I just leave?” A chuckle.

“Nah. Yer already in debt, little man. I can’t have you running off without paying. You got to work. I’m the boss, I decide when yer done. We can talk about freedom after. Now eat.” The giant dumped him gently onto the huge plate. A huge finger and thumb gripped his bag and tugged upwards. He hung on. His feet left the ground and Huw snorted. “Let go now. You can have it back later. I got a glass of water here, you can have a drink, then we get to work.” A shake. Tom went tumbling across the desk. By the time he was back on his feet, his bag had disappeared.

"I would prefer to negotiate a little, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s not. I already told you what's happening. Eat.” Tom eyed up the back of the desk. So close but so far. “You can try to run if the fancy catches you. It'll give me a laugh. You got cute little legs.” Reluctantly, Tom filled his belly. Huge fingers picked up a teaspoon from an empty cup of tea and dipped into the glass of water next to him, laying it down in front of him.

“Go on. Drink up." Tom bent down and took a draught. Huw rested his head on one of his huge hands, looking down at him. At least the giant didn’t want to squish him. A second huge hand flicked him gently onto his butt with a finger. A huge thumb landed on his chest and pushed. Tom braced himself, digging in his feet. A chuckle. “That’s what I'm talkin' about. Cute as shit.” The thumb lifted. Huw reached down for a scratch. He bought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. “That's the good stuff.” He held his finger to Tom's face. Concentrated, masculine musk. Tom winced. “You got a little hard-on startin’ there, lad.” Tom scowled up at him.

“That's not my fault. Attraction is weird.” 

“Whatever you say, lad.” He stretched, exposing vast, hairy pits. “Time for me to get to work.”

“It’s still about three in the morning. Early even for a baker. You could lie in a little more.” A feral grin.

“Well, I got plenty of energy. I gotta train up my new worker.”

“I feel like we could get to know each other a little better if I was on your shoulder or in your pocket.” A snort.

“You like to talk. You can’t get out of this one, little lad. Shouldn't of been a dirty little thief.” A big hand reached for him. Tom jumped backwards.

“I don't think a first offence warrants this!” The giant paused.

“You know what, lad? Maybe I should give some kind of choice.” Tom brightened up. A smirk. “You want to be snuggled up to my balls or down my crack today?” Tom went back to his sulk. 

“That doesn’t seem like much of a choice.” A grin.

“If you can’t decide, lad, I’m gonna shove you down my boots. Ain’t no stink like foot stink.”

“Uh - crack. I guess.”

“Good choice.” The man stood up. 

“Can I change my mind?” Ignored. An enormous crotch loomed up above him. He gulped. The man’s underwear was yellowed, stained with sweat and cum and god knew what else. An bulging pouch that left nothing to the imagination. The same ball scratch, huge fingers in his face again. Pure musk. Tom spluttered.

“Look at that little stiffy. You really do like my stench, huh?” Tom scowled at him. Slowly, Huw peeled off his drawers, eyes fixed on Tom, enjoying his fear.  He flexed a massive arm. “What about my muscles? I know you like 'em.” Tom vibrated anxiously, waiting for an opportunity. “Full warning, lad. I got one hell of a swamp arse going on.” Huw turned around and flexed his glutes. A thick layer of fur down his back, thickening into a forest as it disappeared into his crack. Beneath a healthy layer of fat, the lazy movement of muscle. Tom tore his eyes away, looking upwards. For a moment, Huw’s head turned. Tom took a step back. This was his chance, while the brute was still showing off. Light, quick footsteps. Quiet enough a giant couldn't hear them. Suddenly, a rumbling chuckle. He could feel it through the table. Ice trickled down his spine. Over a rounded, muscular shoulder, a predatory eye. “Not today, lad.” Huw came crashing down. Adrenaline in Tom's veins. A head rush. A wild twist. A futile dive for the edge of the desk, far away. Then the impact, and darkness. 

Pressure. Absolute powerlessness. Heat. Damp skin. He squirmed. Useless, not so much as a twitch in the hairy flesh pinning him down. Somehow, he hadn't been ground into paste. There was someone else's sweat in his mouth. The slightest give in the fat and muscle crushing him into Huw’s desk. He felt himself move in the darkness as Huw ground his arse down above him, working him into his crack. A change in the air. Tom held his breath. A distant, muffled snort of satisfaction, then the giant’s deep voice. “Knew you would try something. Too bad, little man. You may as well accept it. You got a new job.” Tom's lungs, screaming, forced him to take a breath. He gulped down a mouthful of air. How, he wasn’t sure, but that question was quickly wiped from his mind by a wall of foul, concentrated stench. 

“Holy- fuck!” His words were lost on Huw, too far above him to hear anything but muffled whining.

“Spirited. That’s what I like.” Tom was already damp from the filthy brute’s sweat. Huw’s body shifted again. He felt himself slip between two walls of flesh. He yelped.

“Come on!” Just the endless expanse of muscle and sweat. A forest of wild, greasy hair. Huw leaned forward. The rumble of huge intestines, then a rush of humid, stinking air. Noxious gas, forcing its way into his lungs, smothering his senses in a rush of unholy force. The musk was one thing. Huw's gas was another. He forgot how to breathe for a moment, too stunned to thread any protests together.  Huw chuckled, and a huge finger nudged him deeper. He was helpless to fight. All his struggling, all his effort, and all Huw had to do to wipe out his resistance was casually sit down and release a single fart. Carefully, the giant wedged him deep into his stinking arsecrack. “All tucked in, safe and sound. Later, lad.” Gravity shifted around him. The sound of fabric against skin as Huw adjusted his underwear a little tighter. Tom's chance was gone, if he had ever had one. He was trapped.