Nobody ever listens to the little guy.
These are words of wisdom practically etched into the nail-scraped chest you stuffed behind a flowery, lacy little bow-embroidered top, hastily pressed into you with the simple and somewhat crude instruction of, "Put it the fuck on". At your miniscule size, you weren't in any position to argue. And even if you had, what use would it be, what avail, and what hope had you to convince a bunch of burly, smelly, sea-brine stench riddled pirate women of anything? After all, as previously stated...
Nobody ever listens to the little guy.
Your story, in retrospect, is a bit of a pathetic one. Befitting of your unimpressive stature, your ambitions, while lacking in specificity, certainly didn't lack in direction. You knew what you wanted most of all, what made your lips moist with the slick flicks of a craving tongue and a passionately whetted voice behind them. What drove you to firebrand speeches and more than one drunken bout in your maritime-side-eyeing youth.
You wanted to capture a fairy and wish for something magnificent. Something incredible. You had heard stories of these wish-granting pixie-like creatures, heard bar backroom whispers of the opulent and magnificent Seelie Court and its whimsical ways. As far back as you can remember, to the times your toes were tucked beneath the sheets of your first bed, your head was flooded with promises of riches unattainable, and magic unrivaled. Every other kid you knew warned you against buying into those stories too much, asserted quite confidently that fairies weren't real, and even if they were, they weren't worth pursuing. But you didn't listen. Why would you listen, why would any self-proclaimed Solo Fae-Hunter?
Nobody ever listens to the little guy.
And now, in the cresting moments of your young adulthood, you're paying for it with all the years to follow.
You can almost picture the scene now...a net in hand...the tips of your fingers practically etched with the wooden pattern of the briskly braced handle...you were inches away, and yet, just close enough to be spotted. A fragile little insect no bigger than your thumb -- suddenly overhead, perched on the bent curvature of a single blade of grass. But...it wasn't a single blade of grass. It was a catastrophically huge jungle-like stalk, with dewdrops the size of an oceanic wave, colliding with the ground around you and scraping dirt in huge little juts that traveled, coursed, and whipped. Before you could speak, the massive lumbering footfalls of one of nature's tiniest creatures sunk into the ground, leaving a terrifyingly
calamitous impact in their wake. Before long, with strides as giant as she, the skirt-clad creature snickered, and wistfully sized you up.
"You were here to capture me, riiiiight?", she spoke with a voice that carried with it the force of mighty gale winds.
"Right, right, right? You could at least pretend to try to answer..." You could pick up a soft little bit of wintery winds clinging to her body and briskly bracing the base of your meager little frame. "Speak! Oh...you are speaking. Huh! Guess I kinda sorta maybe definitely overdid it on the shrinking you bit...first time I ever had to defend myself from a poacher, whoopsie!"
She laughed. It nearly stung. Each exhale whipped at you with a force that made your hand stand on one end, and your eyes wince to the point of shutting. You were plucked at. And she hadn't even laid a single finger on you yet. Merely looming over you, as her little doubled-over-laughing fit seemed to mock your miniscule proportions and make light of the hellish predicament you were in. It was almost as if her very breaths were trying to make off with you, kidnap you and run along to some forgone retreat. Your life was over. All thoughts of escape were banished the minute she tip-toed two fingers playfully behind you...before swatting you.
Your footing was almost immediately compromised, sending you tumbling forward with a fiery blush radiating in your cheeks. You had to pinch the side of your face with a grimace, struggling to hold back tears. You're not sure if it was from the disorienting stamina-robbing process of being reduced to such an infinitesimal little tick of a human being, or the unfortunate truth that - right now - in this moment, you were physically overpowered and manhandled by a simple Fae, and there was nothing you could do about it...whichever the case, you were helpless, hopeless, and as previously emphasized, there was nothing you could do about it.
"So...here's the skinny...there's a band of pirates...LOVELY fellows...who keep trying to harass me for my fairy...master? Yeah, funny thing about that..." You were corralled effortlessly by a little sleight-of-hand, a dancing pinkie that pressured you, palmed you, and dangled you a short distance off the ground, before you were flicked into the adjacent hand, and juggled back and fourth. It was almost impossible to make out what it was that your tiny ears were trying to decipher. Vertigo set in almost immediately, the brisk, brushing impact of being juggled from hand to hand. "It flat out isn't a thing! Fairies don't HAVE Masters...buuut...with a pinch of magic, some clever word finagling, and just a liiiiittle bit of a wardrobe change...this just might do the trick..."
POP.
Her fingers smooshed together around you like a fleshy sentient all-encompassing cage. You briefly contemplated death, the night-certainty of it, and were almost thankful this annoying fairy captor couldn't harass you any further. But, it was not to be. Just as surely as her voice began in again with a humming 'hmmm, hmm, hmmm, oh yes' -- the fingers surrounding your helplessly claustrophobic body parted, you were greeted with the miracle of not being squished lethally flat. No aches, no pains, no bruises, not even a characteristically expected gasp for air you never stopped receiving in relative abundance.
Instead, sparkling little bits of radiant yellow-green fizzled out as they scattered past you to dissolve into nothingness underneath you -- as you suddenly adorned an entirely different garb; the top that would soon thereafter attract many a salacious coo from a burly pirate crew, pants made of what appeared to be intricately interwoven vine mesh, and lastly, a set of curly-toed moccasins that were almost certainly made from some kind of oak tree. The fairy snickered. She snatched you up. This time, the merciful pocket of air you had previously grown accustomed to was not there. Instead, you were smothered, neat and tidily, pressed against her chest for a moment, as you could audibly hear the rapid staccato thump of her heartbeat.
She was panicked.
And it quickly became clear why.
Several women, rowdy, drunk, and raunchy were close by, closing in swiftly. They were not the normal sort of sea-marauders who would pillage and leave. These were dangerous, and unlike any you'd ever encountered before, led by a fearsome red-maned woman you'd prefer not to cross. Even from the considerably shrinking distance she towed from you, you could make out the fear she commanded in others. A set of buccaneer flintlock pistols still leaking smoke from a recent bullet discharge were gripped in each hand as the miserly whispers of her fellow pirate compatriots were ripping through the air. Her eyes were only barely visible beyond blood-red lochs of hair, twisted in gnarly knots thicker than a sailhand's ropes. She had a small constellation of beauty marks beneath one eye, though they could easily be scars, or gunpowder, shaped and styled after a tyrannical skull.
"CAPTAIN BRIG! We said tha'the venture was damn near pointless! Those Godless fairies 're nothin' but schemesters, liars, and tricksters, nae wishes t'be found with their lot! Yer better off fishing for a genie from the sands of Xarabaros, or the coasts 'o Shelbutia! Pull back before yer -- EE!" The pirate would be swiftly commanded to an unbroken silence. Pure unmoving stillness.
The Captain spoke not a word, simply leveling her gun with the insubordinate and gesturing him forward.
The pirate slowly rotated, hands cowering and raised as she nodded, and the man acquiesced. Though a whole head taller than her in height, that advantage was swiftly removed with a single fiery blast. You winced, missing the initial impact -- and were shocked to learn there isn't one. When you looked back up, the man was curled into a fetal position, the bullet skipping off the blue hue of the giant lake where her ship was docked. It had soared over in an explosive instant, and was meant only to scare the cravenly crewmate.
"...Blubberin' bitch of a wee toddler...LISTEN 'ERE. Whichever of ya isn't weighted down b'the piss in yer pants...grab this ponce 'n have him thrown below the deck. Rest 'a'yee, follow me a'er that Fairy Master. This time...we don't take schemes, lies, or tricks for an answer...only WHAT I WANT...or GUNFIRE." Captain Brig's words seemed to elicit her a series of explosive gunshots and laughs of raucous approval from her subordinate women and men. "QUIT WASTIN' YER AMMO!" She interjected. "We'll need it...fer shootin' shit-talkin fae..."
Almost in the exact same fetal position as the pirate from before, the fae who had shrunk you was terrified. She didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even have the decency to put you down as you were suddenly yanked against her chest and smothered facefirst between her oversized jugs. Both of her sweet-scented breasts were colliding together slowly, as her arms entangled one another in a panicked stress-position as the waves of unease and anxiety overcoming her only seemed to grow in fiery inescapable intensity. You would've interjected, but the furious wind of her voice began with as much frantic pace as when she was taunting your tiny form.
"C...Captain Brig would never fall for a trick like this...n-not the Dread Captain Brig...there has to be a way to flag one of the others down...maybe if...perhaps I..." Her eyes wandered, spotting rather swiftly exactly where your eyes laid, on the most drunken, slobbish, unfortunate pirates there were -- way in the back of the ensemble army. She clutched you back between her breasts, this time, tucking you there. Her tits would ordinarily be an unimposing and unimpressive cupsize, but at your size, no set of boobs were. These were the only thoughts you could process at your size, as, rather unflatteringly, it was all you could see or hear. You swear she said something to the effect of...
"If you say a single word, we're dead!"
Or maybe it was...
"If you say or are heard, it's your head!"
Or perhaps it was...
"If you slay a simple herd, pray instead!"
It almost certainly wasn't that last one. But it was just as likely as the other two contenders with titflesh in your ears, repeatedly colliding. You were there for what felt like hours. You could feel her titsweat starting to pool up like a miniature bog of damp, nervousy-driven bodily disuse. By the time you were finally reached for, the negotiations were over, and, rather horrifically, you were face to face with two burly pirate women...and the Dread Captain Brig herself, squinting at you.
"I'm expected ta believe this wee little 'un is...yer Master?!"
"Yes!!!" The fairy interjected, protesting as you were held in a makeshift, reverent position. "Intelligence...is...uh...reflected by...smallness! Only the cleverest and wisest of fairies are found this small...it's so they can escape natural predators!"
"Lotta good that's done 'im." Captain Brig sneered, while her jeering compatriots laughed. A single gloved hand that smelled of spilled little droplets of brandy and surprisingly otherwise clean sterility poked over you, tracing down your midsection and in little circles across your chest and between your legs. She took a small plastic pronglike device, perhaps some manner of tooth pick, and poked it past a cheek, stretching your mouth and inspecting your miniscule form for any imperfections or deviances. Like some object checked for quality, she snapped nonverbally towards one of her pirates, who procured for her a chest. With the plastic little what-seemed-to-be-a-sort-of-skeleton-faced-key jutted into the corresponding keyhole, the chest unlocked with a shuddering KERCHUNK...and a small eyeglass was produced...
Captain Brig's massive overseeing eye loomed over you...
Inspecting...
Circling over...
Tracing your form, your corners, your intimate parts to the innocuous one, before finally she sucked air in to declare her verdict.
"Fine...if this really IS yer Master...who am I t'pass on yer treacherous offer...The FAE will be spared...and the Master...IS OURS!"
Raucous applause followed. The Fae looked just as uncomfortable as you are, not that beings as small as you two could ever communicate it. You shared a mutual contempt in one moment, and an understanding shortly after, as you were tied about the waist with a golden bow...bringing you exactly back where you were, just now, reflecting on these events. You wanted to interject, protest against such a dainty thing, before Captain Brig snarled at you. "Put it the fuck on". It's not your color, you want to say. You don't like that bow. It's too tight. You're being squished. Any excuse you could make up, you cannot. After all...nobody listens to the little guy. These are words of wisdom practically etched into you as you feel a couple of erroneous nails scrape along your chest trying to tie a bow over you. It was rather pretty, even if it wasn't your thing...
"Bring this purty wee fairy master lad into my quarters...I want a performance." Brig's brown pupils meshed perfectly with the irises behind them. Her red braids were like fire. And to make it all worse, her teeth resembled the sharp blades of a shark's open maw, except perfectly aligned when she clenched them together, a tongue rushing over to spit-polish and meet them. You didn't even have time to process the sheer terror she inspired in you, before you were hoisted up, hauled off, and tossed into a small gilded cage to be transported on deck a disorienting ship at sea.
It would be hours before you were let out...
When you were, the sight before you was...strange. To say the least.
Captain Brig, adorned in...no other way to say it...her skivvies. Her perverted pajamas. She had laces wrapped about both her burly and built arms, but the rest, were intimate undergarments. The woman who carried you in had slammed the door shut and locked it before you had time to react, as two giant fingers pinched open your caged confines, and emptied you onto a set of piano keys. They barely sunk at all when you touched them, as Captain Brig's feet danced against the crooked-boarded planks of wood polished and shined, waxed, and aligned -- but only in the areas around the piano.
"Y'passed th'first test...!!! Oh, just like Ma always used t'say...feet...so soft 'n weightless...the wee 'uns could dance across a full set 'o Piano Keys...!" She squealed -- pressing the key just behind you. A loud methodic THUD accompanied. Then another. You had to leap out of the way just to keep the key from hitting you, and as you did, you barely survived failing 'the test'. The key sunk, but not enough to produce a note, not nearly. It seemed your troubles were far from behind you, however. "Hey!!! Across a FULL set 'o keys! Tha means...fro one end o'the keys t'the other!!! So start scuttlin', wee faerie boy!"
Before you are given ample time to interject, to try and explain you aren't some sort of fairy or magical creature, another key is pressed. You start to run this time, as she plays a tune unfamiliar to you -- but -- the increased musical complexity only heightens the danger...as she clicks, and plays, and tickles keys without any regard for your safety -- sometimes even cutting you off, or cornering you by press-jamming just in front of you -- forcing you to be quicker on your toes than you ever thought yourself capable. As two sets of colliding keys become closer and closer together -- you take an ill-advised leap of faith straight off the instrument, and towards her buxom brasserie...falling short of it, and instead, landing on her crotch.
"OOP..!!! Cheeky lil wee pest, ain'tcha...?!" She huffed, starting to reach for you. But it seems, just your luck, with the squishy plushness of her thighs, and her constant moving and adjustments, she was only meandering you closer and closer to the center of her crotch, where the rich, feminine scent of her labia could be picked up even from the outside. Somehow, the hesitation was enough to make her linger her hand behind you and start to slink you up towards the brim of her pants. She yanks the pants back and briefly contemplates shoving you against her wild, knotted pubes, towards her fiery and wet muff...deciding instead to simply dangle you...she laughed and wildly roared with a soft coo to her voice, tapping you a few times.
"Every man's dream, isn't it~? A pussy so wide 'n large it can swallow the wee horny-whole!" You'd never heard 'horny' used as a noun like that. This woman was...something else. She suddenly picked, and palmed you up. She wasn't nearly as dexterous as the fairy, but seemed...surprisingly close. You were treated as though you were a danger. What, like your teeth would be able to break skin at your misey-inducingly infantilizing size? Captain Brig seemed to have awry entirely priorities...until they took a sudden downward turn.
Or rather, you did.
Without warning or notice, you were dropped, flat against the soft cushion beneath her, as her bum followed hard upon, straining your erection to the nigh-bursting point, as you began to protest aimlessly against more soft-impact-eating shock-absorber asscheeks than any man could ever hope to dream up, much less endure experiencing. You could smell her whole week from here, from booze-binges, to the occasional hip-sway dance of a sultry and sumptuously sensual pirate gal. Something about your repeated anal-inflictions seemed to stagger out of you a whiny series of sounds she liked. How she made them out was almost...confusing, perplexed you even. The creaky legs of the barely stable seat beneath her were strained with repeated butt-bludgeoning as you just barely made out the sounds of her words, while she resumed tauntingly ass-assaulting you.
"Th'second, and more important second test...a Fae's gotta be able t'survive even th'most
catassssssstrophic of impacts! We dunnae have a cannonball in 'ere n'more...on account 'o that...accident last month...BUT! Plenty 'o men AND women alike tell me my ASS is like a cannonball! Searin' with whistlin' whenever it passes by! Ahahe!" She laughed with a gruff intonation to her voice, as if she were playing up the boisterous intensity. The bareness of her freckled ass's color could still be seen through the mostly translucent scene of her undergarments...there was something so oddly entrancing about how the sight never left your eyes.
"Ohhh...y'know what'd be a better test?"
She froze.
It hurt.
It was one thing to struggle against the sea of buttflesh, all that fat washing and rustling around. But it was clear her test was severely held back, as even after just a few seconds of her sitting laxed and straight on your tiny body, you were no match for the way her butt collided with you. You could feel every bone in your body strained, as the inescapable frenzy of deadly emotions came over you -- lust, envy for cleaner air, gluttony for breaths that didn't taste like pirate captain taint, pride quashed and squished, wrath that you let this happen to you, greed for being the only supposed-fairy that could ever experience this, and the slothful waning of your consciousness. You were going to pass out, you were going to pass out, you were going to...
Cum.
You came.
You weren't proud of it, but you did.
You forced your dick up against her ass, trying to conceal as much of the mess you made as possible, only to feel a finger start to slowly mesh over your head, pulling the rest of you out from under her with it. Thankfully, you weren't inspected for very long. Your entirety, every last flailing extremity, was pushed between her massive, even at your ordinary height, breasts as she giggled, repeatedly thrashing them together around you. You could hardly bring yourself to move or utter a solitary phrase. With this captivating a captive-holding set of tits, you almost never wanted to leave.
"My BOMBSHELL BOOBS! Thas another wee lil hidey hole spot that could test yer durability, cannit?"
She wasn't wrong.
You already felt your "durability" tested as you found yourself on the brink of a second orgasm, this time thanks to the rush of euphoric softness that her breasts brought you, almost as tomboyish as the rest of her. Brisk in smell, and inescapable in height overhead. A rule of thumb for dealing with tall girls for you was to avoid women with tits above your head. Not that you were ever good at sticking to it, especially in the present company. Your entire head was engulfed in titflesh that separated every bit of surrounding air from you, encasing you in a prisonlike complex of nothing but tit. She continued to play her piano once more, each note jolting a little shudder or blissful barraging impact that throttled you up and down faster than you could manage to counter. You could hear the faint whipping of her hair against her breasts, giving your seized up lungs an additional obstacle to worry about, since each strike produced a faint ripple of flesh that would clobber over the top of your head.
Now you were certain this is where you died.
"Y'know...I'm pretty darn sure ya aren't no Fae Master. Fae-ker more like it."
Now you were REALLY certain this is where you died.
"But..."
You hung on that word for a short while, as she crept her fingers towards the top of the keys and arced towards the bottom. Sure it squished the living hell out of you when she did. But there was a cuteness and a bashful side to her, using an instrument to punctuate her points and sentences, almost as carefree as she leveled her guns. She was missing something. And you started to get the impression that something was you.
"...I think yer koinda cute t'get all wrapped up in. Or...more astutely...wrapped all up in me! Hahahaeha! Y'know...cuz yer all bundled up in these tits 'o mine!" The Dread Pirate Captain Brig laughed. You almost felt inclined to laugh as well, and not out of some sheer awkwardness, or pity sympathy...but because all the blood normally rushing to your head was starving it instead. You were kicking your legs, partially to try and flag her down, but also due to the simple ruthless arithmetic of your remaining moments being numbered. You were running out of air, and worse, the repeated sensations were going to make you cum a second time. You weren't even sure which was more important, your survival, or seeing to it you
finished a second time.
A tiny perverted part of you wondered if you could have both, plucking occasionally at the end of your cock, before working the shaft and smooshing it into the boobs holding you captive. This was worse than the cage, because you LIKED IT. Worse than shrinking around that obnoxious floozie of a fae because you LIKED IT. And worst of all...she seemed all too aware of your predicament, and almost...relished in it. Celebrated how you were stuck the way you were, and cooed as she must've overheard your repeated strikings.
"Aww...are ya tryna spank it t'me, wee lil fae boy...you could at least look at me when ya do...c'mon..throw yer prissy lil head back 'n let me get a niiice...biiiig...look atcha...I wanna see my name form on yer moanin' lips when y'pronounce 'n dedicate this orgasm t'me...! Gimme a nice, big "CAPTAIN BRIG"...seein' as I'm givin ya one yerself...!" She pointed, somewhat poutily at you, teasing you as you were squished deeper into her cleavage, but obediently staring up at her. You did your best to moan, but, against the suffocating tease and tug of a body so much bigger than you, there was little purpose. You were going to cum. She was going to watch. And you couldn't very well forestall the inevitable. So you didn't. You leaned and vaulted into your repeated rowings, as she did her part to give you a little solitary aid, easing your body back and fourth with the mountainous mounds of her tits, chidingly mouthing her own name, as if to influence you, subliminally -- or perhaps overtly -- and pressure you into doing as she asked. This Captain, pesky as she was, had an awfully naggingly effective way of getting what she wanted out of people, and right now, she wanted your cum. She wanted you to moan her name to assume ownership over you and the feelings she inspired in you.
And you didn't even feel it was especially unfair.
After all...she had done so much for you so recently, where would the fairness be in denying her the satisfaction? With one heaving sweat-mass forming along your back, unclear of whether it started or just ended with you, and whose it belonged to -- you arced your back, splashing through it with a backstroke and a few swift jolts of your spastically swinging legs. You were in the midst of one of the most overwhelming orgasms of your life, and to top it all off, you were being slid to the very tip of her buxom tits.
The Dread Pirate Brig was cupping you into place for, judging by the puckering of her lips...a massive kiss. And it was so perfectly timed with the weight of her falling form, at least...it appeared to be falling. She was probably just lowering her head. But to a tiny like you, heaven itself was being brought down to meet your aching cock's middling length, and by the time it connected, it had something for her. In three powerful gushing discharges of the creamy white stuff inside you, you came right against her lip, as a tongue snuck out to greet your little present. She tasted it for a while, before bringing her tongue back, all the way out, and lashing it over your body, nodding and snickering in a flirtatious and perhaps
inappropriately needy voice. She wanted more. And even if she couldn't have it, at least not yet, she would get the next best thing in you.
"Mmmm...you're sho...tashty...~"
You were terrified.
You didn't want to be eaten.
That would mean the end of this. You mean, the end of you. Part of you wanted to scream. Part of you wanted to cum first. Since the part that wanted to cum first was between your legs getting stimulated by a slow-moving tongue, it won over, as another orgasm was coaxed closer and closer. You had to accept the inevitability of being eaten. After all, nobody listens to the little guy. Ever. This couldn't be some magical exception just because she was cute. This couldn't be a fairy tale either, as you were no fairy. Just an unfortunate fraud passed off as the genuine article. You thought this, perseverated on the thought for just long enough to whimper and wince as your body was starting to reach its third and final orgasm...
The second you came, however, you belted at the top of your lungs.
You aren't sure if it was stop, a simple no, or a full blown plea. You gave into instinct and begged for your life, desiring nothing more than to get out of the mouth as her throat came into view, uvula decorated with spit eager to embrace you as you would be made into nothing more than a tiny dollop of fat on her ass. Or perhaps caloric intake to serve her massive mammaries, the tits you adored so much. Hell, even the bare feet tapping against the wood underfoot might be your destiny, you don't get to choose what happens to you when you're devoured...however, with an almost coquettish sort of silence, she stopped you, slammed you against the roof of her mouth, and spat you out in a pool of saliva in her cupped together hands. You were...safe. Mostly. You believe you were, anyway, as her slow, sensual voice gruffly responded...
"You really thought I was gonna eat a treat like you, didn't ya?!"
That was a relief.
"Well, I was..."
That, however, was not.
"But then I thought...pshhh...today was SO much fun...and now I don't have t'go around hunting no Fae Masters anymore...it's obvious you aren't what you were passed off to me as...but my crew's too much of a bunch of liver lilies t'correct me...can you BELIEVE that lad?! Which means...y'get to stick with me...keep me nice 'n cozy most nights...and...I'll be sure t'assume responsibility for your poor mini self...y'didn't ask t'be born small, after all!!!"
You weren't born small at all...
You think about sharing that. Explaining it. But...even if she did, in this singular instance, perhaps it's better if nobody does listen to the little guys. Makes up their own explanations for you to latch onto and choose as your favorite. After all, with a fearsome giantess pirate like this woman at your side, you'd never have to know fear again. You felt the cozy comfort and realization settle over you as swiftly as you were taken from her hands and perched on her necklace that sagged just far enough for your feet to kick over top her oversized breasts. Your eyes winced shut as you let out a tiny little series of giggles, gasps, and laughs, splaying the spittle from your damp head of hair, and staring up at her eyes.
Perhaps...
You don't want to be listened to at all. What you want is to have your breath and words taken away from you, like Captain Brig manages so effortlessly. Quietly infatuated, you let the ship rock the two of you to a silent sleepy stupor, as she played away at her keys. As she finally slumps over top them, unaffected by the sudden clanging of multiple discordant notes at once...
You relax onto a key...falling asleep on it without ever once triggering its melody. As wings...quietly sprout from your back.
Giantess World
Story Notes:
a commission i got from ittybittyknowitall you can get a commission from him on discord, his username is ittybittyknowitall#6342
Chapter End Notes:
a commission i got from ittybittyknowitall you can get a commission from him on discord, his username is ittybittyknowitall#6342