An Overbearing Flatmate - #2

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.”

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*

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.