**********CHAPTER ONE***********

	Bentham Holtz could only stand there in bewilderment— pathetically cowering behind a patch of grass— while a boy two hundred times his size straddled the heavens above. His impossibly large legs, swollen with taut muscle despite belonging to someone so young, practically glistening from sunlight reflecting off the curtain of sweat drenching his pale skin; an unnerving playful grin forming at the sight of a diminutive older man vainly trying to sneak away, only to find all avenues of escape blocked by the grimy side strip of a gigantic running shoe. 

	“You look lost. How’d you even get so small anyways?”

	Fear set in. Nothing in that moment made sense. One minute Bentham was peacefully jogging, the next he slammed headfirst into a pinecone the size of a minivan. More than anything else— even the behemoth middle schooler towering over him— the fact that there was no rational explanation for what just happened caused him to panic and take off in a mad dash.  

 	It was an exercise in futility. What was a hundred meter sprint for Bentham took only one step for him; by the time he reached the next pile of fallen leaves, they’d already been obliterated under the spiked rubber treads of his shoes. Still he persisted, motivated on through horror by the crunchy thumping sound made with each step, a shot of adrenaline pushing him to move faster each time he saw the shadow of a towering leg arch over him. 

	With aggression and precision unbefitting a boy his age, the curious giant used his massive feet to corral Bentham against an unclimbable ledge. Content with letting his newfound toy exhaust himself, the giant switched from hunting to teasing, “You better run or you’ll get stepped on!” he’d say bringing the shoe down right above his head. Not low to actually crush him, but close enough to where Bentham could reach out and touch the dirt, grass, and autumn leaves mushed into the dusty crevices.

	Right under where his giant toes would be there was a crushed platoon of ants splattered into the dried mud; their mangled remains smeared from a violent twisting force. A hundred tiny lives ended— becoming little more than discoloured stains across a grimy jet black stud on a worn down Nike logo— just to satiate the boredom of an overly energetic young boy. Having lived through this tender age once, a part of Bentham knew what his fate would be, and wept bitterly at the thought of it. However, what the emotionally compromised man didn’t know was that this giant had much more ambitious plans than simply smashing him into the pavement like any other bug.  

	In the brief moment before Ben was snatched up, he tried to deny the sight before him; pretend as if it was all a lucid nightmare. However, as the fingers curled, and a bone-crushing pressure compressed his chest, it became evident to the twenty-six year old secretary that this wasn’t any form of delusion.

	Two baby blue eyes gleamed with curiosity at the shrunken adult squirming around in his hand, “My name’s Tyler, what’s yours?” he inquired brushing the long locks of wavy blonde hair away from his eyes.

	“B-Bentham…” The power he held was discomforting. How could anyone be so strong? “W-What are you going to do with me.” 

	“I dunno.” Shrugged Tyler, “For now I guess I’ll take you with me.”

	There were no pockets on the loose-fitting gym shorts, which meant there was only one logical place to put him. Both men blushed at the thought; one from shame, and the other out of embarrassment. There was something else as well, a mischievous urge to press the whimpering adult into his junk, just for the hell of it. It seemed like an innocent prank, but Bentham could tell by the very visible erection nestled between his inner thigh and crotch that his intentions were far from innocuous. 

	Pulling the waistband of his briefs forward, Tyler took a moment to allow all the bad air to seep out, then positioned his tiny prize over the opening. “You can’t do this! This is completely inappropriate! You’ll get in trouble!” shouted Ben cringing in disgust at the wave of warm air wafting up from his exposed crotch. 

	The eager cock below was smoother than polished glass, and was so enormous compared to him that the glands on the tip were large enough to run his fingers between. The entire organ pulsed with excitement, writhing around inside the fabric pit. It looked clean, and with the notable exception of a small curly bush of gold on the pubic mound, there was absolutely no hair. The smell was a different story.  Neither the gym shorts nor the genitals they contained had been washed in a while, which wouldn’t have been so bad if the briefs weren’t damp with sweat. 

	“Please…” he cried, “You can’t do this!”

	Tyler smiled, “You’ll be fine!” then released his grip.

	By the time Bentham realized what was going on he was already past the waistband. He tried to grab the pubic hair on the way down, but the hair was soaking wet and slipped from his grip. He landed unharmed on the stitching below, and had just enough time to stare up— beyond the two smooth testicles ahead and the veiny cock above— and into the youthful grinning face of his captor. Humiliated and disgraced by a boy half his age, too small to resist his whims, all Ben could do was watch helplessly as Tyler waved goodbye then released the waistband with a violent crack.



******CHAPTER TWO**************


	Trapped within the confines of Tyler’s briefs, Bentham had no choice but to endure the remainder of gym class pressed up against his thigh, clasping the short curly stocks of pubic hair just to keep himself from slipping. The more Tyler ran, the more heat and humidity his body dumped to counteract. It was torture. Between the friction and pressure imposed by the tight underwear, the humiliating moral conundrum of being at the mercy of a middle schooler, and the very real possibility of being accidentally dropped and crushed, Ben’s sanity was beginning to fade. 

	An hour or so later and heat exhaustion had begun to take its toll.  The only relief he got was when his horny captor decided to reposition his junk over him. At least then— if only for a brief moment— the air was fresh. Regardless of how much pain he was in, the selfish immature brat holding Bentham captive didn’t seem to care. As little more than a limp doll smeared with sweat, Bentham was helpless to resist the young virgin fiddling around with his junk, and the many experiments he devised to make further use of him.

	Having been a young teen once, Bentham understood that until he could find an escape route the key to his survival lied in being a continuous source of entertainment. Regardless of how unnatural or inconsiderate he was poised against the gigantic package, he made sure to squirm— at least a little— enough to hook Tyler onto the idea that there were greater sensations beyond. It was easy work pleasing someone this inexperienced, and knowing how to push his buttons somehow restored an iota of his pride, but it didn’t change the fact that he had been reduced to giving a horny teenager what amounted to a full body handjob just to survive. 

	By the time gym class had ended, his captor was shivering with lust; an emotion he thankfully had yet to recognize as such. Feeling the tip, Bentham felt warm liquid stick to his hand, and was immediately ashamed. Poor brat was leaking pre-cum like a faucet, his hips buckling in preparation for his very first orgasm, which unfortunately would never come. 

	“Why did you stop,” Whispered Tyler, “Why…?”

	Bentham smiled. It was obvious by the raspy fluttering in tone that he’d been struck with a deathly case of blue balls. Served him right for acting like an asshole. 

	However, for as smug as Bentham was in that moment, he was also deeply afraid. He could feel the anger and frustration as an almost scalding wave of heat radiating out from the veins. The beat of Tyler’s heart was at maximum, pumping gallons of blood into the swollen dick to keep it erect. Teasing him may have been a mistake.

	From outside Bentham heard what sounded like a stall door slamming shut. He felt those shivering hands grip the worn garments, then shrieked with terror as they were yanked down, then allowed to slide to the floor. Trent’s imposing legs kicked furiously, and Bentham— along with the underwear he was trapped in— were tossed to the cold tiles below.
 
	 Sliding across the floor, Bentham slammed headfirst into the polished porcelain base of the stall toilet, deflecting off and into the discoloured patch of moldy tiles surrounding the otherwise spotless bathroom. His head still reeling, ears ringing, the best he could offer in terms of an escape plan was to clumsily stumble away; covering his nose to protect against the vigorous smell of piss and cleaning chemical swirling all around. 

	Of all the places Bentham didn’t want to die, a middle school bathroom was probably at the top of that list. His heart sank as macabre visions of being left half-crushed on the floor flashed before his eyes. Paralyzed from the neck down, lungs flattened, the last moment of his life would be spent gurgling up his own blood as the sound of some eighth grader with poor aim relieving himself into the toilet above drowns out his cries for help. 

 	His aspirations of freedom were smashed in an instant when Tyler’s dirty running shoe screeched to a halt directly in front of him. Tracing the leg back up, it seemed as though Bentham ended up exactly where he started; cowering pathetically at Tyler’s feet. Only this time he was nude from the waist down with only a small T-shirt to cover what remained. 

	Far above, Tyler nervously stroked the already tortured erection between his legs, not realizing it was only frustrating him further. His face was flushed red; short spiked blonde hair loosing it’s cohesion due to sweat. It was quite unnerving. All the anger and desire; it was directed entirely towards him. 

	“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, “Not until you finish what you started.”

	At the center of it all— glistening between his legs— was the main benefactor of his suffering. Smooth and surprisingly clean, the veins in Tyler’s dick glowed as blood rushed into the pulsing member, then back into that gigantic muscular body, particularly his thighs, which looked harder than rock from all that running he did. The scrotum hung casually between his legs, each ball lubricated with sweat lodged in the wrinkles like grease in a well-oiled machine. A luxurious patch of recently developed pubic hair gleaming as the fluorescent bathroom lighting reflected off the canopy of what to Bentham was a small forest of curly golden hair. 

	To see all that, and know what awaited him proved more morale shattering than expected. This young virgin, who’d never so much as imagined sex before nevermind had any experience in it, was about to use his entire body as a masturbatory aid. Staring deep into those sharp blue eyes he could see there was definitely lust, but it was strangely innocent. For Bentham, it made the entire situation that much more depraved. It’d be one thing if Tyler was gay, but it wasn’t even that, it was simply pleasure for the sake of pleasure. 

	 “Please, you can’t do this to me! I have a job, a family, and lots of money too. I’ll buy you anything you want.” screamed Ben, backing up against the wall.

	Tyler heard his words, but their meaning was lost. He was too caught up in the sensation between his thighs to register what he had to say, “Listen. I found you, so that makes you mine. Got it?”

	Bentham could only offer up a pathetic whimper in response to the hand curling gently around his waist, “Good boy,” said Tyler as if Bentham was some kind of pet, “I’ll have to get a collar for you or something.”

	The teasing was insult to injury, but it was nothing compared to what was about to occur. Taking a seat on the toilet, Tyler spread his bare legs wide, and placed Bentham on the rim. Being so young, this was the first time anyone had seen him naked, so naturally it was a bit scary for him.  However, the amount of power he had over this quivering adult was beginning to go to his head, enough that he began to view his lovely captive as a little less than human. 

	“If you do a good job,” he muttered, blushing shyly at how amazing it felt to issue orders, “I’ll let you go.”

	From his vantage point atop the tiny curved strip of cold porcelain, Bentham had a disheartening view of the hardened cock he was expected to please. Thick veins large enough to squeeze with diminutive fingers pulsed with excitement just under the skin. The sun-starved skin had a pasty peach color that contrasted greatly with the redness of the swollen tip. At four times his length and girth, the throbbing member poised a good ten feet above his head looked more like an imposing monument than the engorged sex organ of a curious juvenile.

	In fact, Tyler himself seemed intimidating on an instinctual level. Young and sweet, but with a poor temper, he projected a volatile sense of dominance. Displeasing him would be dangerous; which is why when Tyler lowered the shaft down and beckoned him to climb aboard, instead of resisting, arguing, or bickering back, Bentham begrudgingly accepted his fate. Mounting it only further reinforced his sense of helplessness. Here he was, a grown man with a master’s degree and a fine job, clinging to the dick of an admittedly handsome boy almost half his age; the warmth and pressure from the blood gushing below sending shivers up his fragile little spine. 

	Then the hand wrapped itself around, and twisted until he was pressed into the underside, facing up so that Tyler could look into Bentham’s petrified eyes. Salty pre-cum was already coating the shaft when he started to stroke; most of it sticking to Bentham’s hair and what remained of his clothes. The pressure forced the breathe out of his lungs, and the constant movement slammed his body into the tender glands. It was a brutal and inefficient method, one which left him with many bruises, and the tacit understanding that if Tyler had any prior experience with masturbation his skin might’ve been buffed off by now. 

	Far above, Tyler’s face was flushed with pleasure, mouth slightly agape to let out a cutesy moan or two; a line of drool running down his lower lip. The boy was pleased, very pleased in fact, by the performance of his new sex toy.  Never before had anything felt so amazing. Bentham on the other hand was dying on the inside. That face Tyler wore was one he was well familiar with; he had the same look after losing his virginity. That’s when he realized what he was; Tyler’s first conquest; a literal practice slut. Just a disposable temporary solution to feelings he didn’t know how to handle yet. 

	Thanks in part to the teasing he provided earlier, the mighty cock began to sputter cum, but in a twist of cruel fate, Tyler was somehow able to hold it in just long enough to toss him into the left hand. Tyler aimed the wet slit right at Ben, and started pumping harder and harder by the second; determined to consummate Ben’s forced servitude in baptizing shower of cum. 
 
	 Bentham only had enough time to cry, “No wait!” before the first wave spurted directly onto him; gallons of hot bubbling cum shot into his body with the force of a cannon, drenching Bentham from head to toe as he begged and cried through a heavy curtain of salty ejaculate for Tyler to stop. Unfortunately, Tyler was on cloud-nine; this was after all his first ever orgasm. Instead of ending immediately, he continued stroking well into the afterglow, even when the pleasure had faded into pain; it just felt that good. 

	Taking the longest breathe of fresh air in his life, Tyler leaned back against the toilet and felt quite satisfied with himself. It didn’t matter that he was skipping class, it didn’t even occur to him how disgusting it was to masturbate in the school bathroom. He was so young and unspoiled by such stigma that the only thing he perceived is the pleasure, and of course the tortured soul responsible for all of it. 

	“So yeah… that was fun. Let’s do it again when I get home!” said Tyler, almost casually and with an optimistic smile, as though the shame and humiliation Bentham endured didn’t even register with him. Then again, how could anyone empathize with someone the size of a doll; especially a filthy cum-drenched one like him? The sad truth was— given his current size— Tyler’s pathological interest in using him was the only thing keeping him alive.

	Exhausted, dehumanized, badly injured, and covered in cum; Bentham hung from Tyler’s slowly deflating shaft like a used up rag; the smell of Tyler's briefs becoming stronger as they enveloped him. The last thing he saw before passing out was the face of his owner— bright and beautiful with eyes that already started to widen with lust— smiling down at him. 

	“You’ll be mine forever,” he whispered, then let the waist band snap shut.  



***********END OF STORY**************