Living Arrangements

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.”

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.’ 

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.

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.

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.