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.



******END OF CHAPTER ONE**********
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