What is the worth of a man? Is it the value of his works, his worth to his community, or the love of his friends and family? 

For Myo, the answer to all three was the same: one silver tael. 

His mother had raised no objections, and his father hadn’t even bothered to haggle with his debtors for a higher price. Evidently the debtors and his parents were in perfect agreement about Myo’s worth. In this economy, that could get you a few mid-sized pigs. All things considered, the pigs were probably a better deal; Myo was far too bony and sickly to make much more than a pot of soup. 

“He didn’t even haggle…” Myo sobbed quietly to himself. In a single stroke he had been downgraded from a neglected son to the property of a stranger.

Myo’s parents certainly did not seem to realize selling him was an option before the old debtor brokered the offer. They must have assumed no one would want to buy Myo, and that was probably the only reason they kept him for these last eighteen years.

His parents had known his uses, and they were few indeed, certainly not enough to make him worth feeding regularly. Myo was short, barely more than a meter tall. His limbs weren't stunted, like a proper dwarf, just a very small human. Myo wouldn’t have minded being short if he were strong like the dwarves in the stories were supposed to be, but his thin arms didn’t have the strength to pull a bowstring nor swing a scythe. He couldn’t run for very long without the wheezing fits taking him, and he was prone to both fevers and chills. Myo would be useless at harvesting crops, he couldn’t mine iron, and he certainly couldn’t fight in an arena.

So, what did they even buy me for?

He hoped it would be a circus, at least in a circus Myo probably wouldn't be the most deformed thing around, and people might be excited to see him. Plus, Myo might get to see exotic beasts from all over the world. But knowing his luck, he would probably be fed to the lions in the opening act.

There were others chained together with him, but they paid him no heed. They had their own lives to mourn, their own fates to guess. They didn’t have any worries left to spare on a sickly boy with no family. 

Maybe they just wanted a little servant, or a jester. Maybe they needed someone his size to fit into somewhere small. But then, why not just use a child? Who would want him?

Talking with the other slaves was enlightening, if deeply depressing. Excepting himself, all the slaves were prisoners, and they were bound for a penal colony. The place held a nasty reputation, the others insisted, yet they had no name for it, only rumors. Those rumors were similarly confused but mostly agreed that they were desert bound. One man insisted that they were to be fed to some kind of monster, but none believed him. Aside from Myo, pigs would have made cheaper feed.

It was so remote that it took two weeks to reach. Every day the landscape around them became drier, and drier, and their own spirits wilted in kind. 

The ceaseless circling of buzzards overhead boded poorly; the birds seeming entirely too certain that the wagon train would provide them with a meal. They proved correct; victims of heatstroke were swiftly freed from their bonds and tossed from the slave-carts. Myo was not among them, though he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or envious. 

When at last the slaves spotted true greenery in the distance, they dared to hope again. 

The wagon drivers eagerly pounced upon those hopes, tearing them to ribbons. 

“That oasis is not your salvation, it's your prison.”

“Better than any ball and chain.”

The drivers laughed at their own wit, and spurred the mules onward, clearly eager to unload their human cargo, and load up with something they wouldn’t have to bother occasionally feeding and watering.

Indeed, while sparse, the greenery around the encampments stood in stark contrast to the desolate white sands that stretched out towards an horizon hidden behind an eternal mirage. If there was a hell, they’d probably passed it two days ago without noticing. Though uneducated, and far from worldly, even Myo could figure out where they’d brought him.

The great salt flats. They stretched for untold leagues before meeting the Tethys sea to the far east, the great Rebnahai mountains to the north, and who-knows-what to the South.

That’s what Myo and his fellow slaves had been bought for, apparently; mining salt. For a salt merchant, it must seem an ingenious investment. Everyone needs salt to live, and the great salt flats were unlikely to run out of salt in a thousand-thousand years of mining.

The only problem with mining the great salt flats was that there was, famously, no fresh water to be found. No human could survive in that cursed desert for long. There was nothing; no game, no trees to shelter men from the burning midday sun, and not even suitable grasses for horses. There was water, to be sure, but the only other water they’d ever find would be too hot and salty for man and horse alike, only fit for tiny sand shrimps and flamingos, or so the slavers gloatingly explained.

Crude stone walls were erected around the settlement, clearly unfinished in several places, with only thorny desert bushes haphazardly stuffed between gaps in the stones. At first, the gaps in the walls gave Myo renewed hope that he may yet escape, but that hope didn’t last. The slavers freely boasted that they didn’t need walls to keep them in. The walls only existed to guard the one source of freshwater for leagues in any direction, a spring in the center of camp that percolated up from far enough below ground to escape the sun’s notice.

Still, since the slavers knew escape was impossible, they had no incentive to keep their slaves chained up. Myo saw a few dozen collared men and a few women attending their duties around camp. Though they outnumbered the imperial soldiers, they seemed in very poor shape. Rebellion seemed as unlikely as escape. But at least he could get these damn chains off.

The slave cart came to a halt near a large tent. Men with spears approached and began shouting for the slaves to disembark. Once everyone was unloaded, the chains on their feet were unlocked and they were made to stand in line to await inspection. 

A bald overseer strode up to the lineup of slaves with a large whip conspicuously held in his right hand. He was flanked by two guards, and made a show of personally inspecting each of the slaves in the most humiliating fashions. The overseer had his guards turn the slave’s heads this way and that, peel back their gums to inspect their teeth, make them lift their arms or twirl in place until he was satisfied they were work-ready. Most of the women were sent to work the kitchens, while the men and the less attractive women were sent to harvest sulfur and salt out on the flats. 

Upon reaching Myo the guards snickered and grinned. He recognized that look in their eyes. It was the look of a bully that had just found an easy mark. Myo had always been easy prey, and he despaired to think of the new torments he would suffer in this hellscape, especially now that he was reduced from a peasant farmer to mere property.

The first guard had argued he be sent to the kitchens, but the second didn’t think the malnourished boy could resist stealing extra rations. The first had argued that he couldn’t possibly eat enough to make a difference. The second thought he might make a better cleaner, but first thought he wouldn’t be able to carry a bucket of water.

Their argument was interrupted by a terrifying and inhumanly loud roar; a thunderous wailing cry that seemed to fit neither beast, nor man, and was coupled with the booming clang of metal against metal, like a dozen smiths hammering steel all at once. The mules spooked at the noise, and had to be restrained before they broke their leads. Myo was frozen stiff, in spite of the desert sun.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the noises ceased. There was a long silence that none were willing to break, lest they offend the beast capable of such racket. Was the rumor true after all? Myo found that he had a new greatest fear, worse even than his fear of the slavers. 

Unfortunately for Myo, the overseer noticed his trembling, and shared a wry smile with his underlings. Myo could recognize that smirk too, and it did not bode well for him. It was the smirk of a ruthless bastard with a ruthless-bastard-joke in mind. 

“Maybe he could feed the monster?” the first guard suggested.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll feed her, one way or another.” They all laughed, and pushed Myo onward.

And so, it was decided that Myo’s fate would be that of a pig after all. Unable to contain his misery any longer, he began to weep.

They beat Myo for crying, but that didn’t make the crying stop. Eventually they just let him cry as they forced him to carry a big wicker basket piled so high with meat and vegetables that he could hardly move. It took all his meager strength to balance it atop his head as he struggled to keep pace with the guards. At least the effort took up too much of his focus for him to shed any more tears.

By the time the sun was setting, they brought him to a massive cage carved into the pale desert rock, like a man-made cave. The metal bars of the entrance were shrouded by an equally massive tarp. One guard lifted away a flap of the tarp, while the other quickly unlocked the cage door. 

“All right little man, in you go!”

Before he could unburden himself one of the guards roughly kicked him through the opening. Myo could only watch helplessly as his basket spilled onto the floor, followed by his own helpless body slamming into dirty hay. The guards locked the door behind him, and dropped the tarp, laughing as they sealed him in the dark with the unseen beast. 

The impact almost knocked the wind out of him, but Myo was too scared to cry out in pain. His eyes had no time to adjust to the sudden darkness. Blind and frightened as a mouse, Myo just stood there, not daring to move an inch, hoping that the monster would not awaken and devour the intruder. 

The metallic rattling of chains cut through him like a knife in the gut. 

It's awake!

Myo didn't remember moving his legs, but suddenly his back was against the cave walls, his guts tied themselves into knots, and his heart beat like a hummingbird’s. His foot crunched on something, and when he lifted his leg he saw to his horror that it was a fragment of bone, from what he didn’t dare guess.

Myo could only hope he was being quiet enough, quieter than the desert winds that should hide his breathing. Then he realized there was no wind outside the cage blowing at the edges of the tarp. 

Oh. Terrible understanding crept over him; that breeze was no wind, it was the beast's breath. Each inhalation seemed to take unnaturally long compared to a human, and each exhalation sent a wave of hot moist air over his scalp.

Myo shut his eyes and held his breath, not daring to make another sound, certain the beast would find and devour him the moment he moved.

The chains rattled again, this time from much higher up, and the monster growled, furious at his trespassing.

“I know you're in here.” 

Nothing could have shocked Myo more than that baritone growl. He felt it in his bones. The monster speaks?! Myo had heard stories of talking monsters in fairy tales, sometimes they could be reasoned with. Sometimes. His mind raced through the possibilities. Ogres, trolls, sphynx, dragons could often talk in the stories. But, usually, they still tried to eat you.

He could hear the chains rattling much louder this time, scraping against the metal floor of the cage. Worse still, he could now hear the crunching of the monster's feet on the bottom layer of hay as it moved closer and closer.

Myo quietly shuffled along the cave walls away from the sound, still too frightened to open his eyes,sure that he would scream and reveal himself.

“Have they given up on breaking me to hard labor? Are you a great warrior, sent to slay me?” The monster seemed to be waiting for a response that never came, so it continued, “So quiet. A stealthy one then, perhaps an assassin?”

Myo wanted to deny the accusations, but he was far too frightened to risk exposing himself.

“Scared, are we?” The monster growled. “I see you, little one. Closing your eyes does nothing to block my sight!”

He was petrified. Death seemed all but certain now. It took all Myo's bravery for him to crack open one eye to face that voice. The time his eyes spent closed must have helped acclimate his vision to the darkness, for now he could see that a shaft of moonlight spilled in through a hole in the roof of the cave, outlining a dark shape just beyond the light’s touch. Then the shadow creature moved closer, towards the light, towards Myo.

Every monster, every frightening beast he could imagine from every dark tale of his childhood was hiding within that shadow. He saw a hideous troll, a savage dragon, even a giant talking bear, padding towards him on enormous feet. Whatever it was, he hoped it would kill him quickly, before it ate him. That would be as merciful an end to his miserably short life as he could ask for. 

The very last thing he expected to confront him in this dark and cavernous cage was the face of a woman, looming high above him.

Myo gawped. There was no helping it. She was truly colossal.

He briefly thought of the legendary sphinx; human heads on the body of monstrous winged lions. But, no, he had seen her arms, though only now did he process that information. Her arms also seemed human; she had shattered the chains that should have bound them together, but evidently was unable to remove the manacles entirely. Then he thought of a Gorgon, and the way his eyes couldn't tear away from hers. Couldn't they? Myi deliberately looked away. Not a Gorgon! Then he noticed something seemed wrong with her legs, but he still couldn't make out their shape.

Oh gods! Those aren't legs! Those are her breasts! 

Everything about her was huge beyond belief, but this was something else entirely. On a normal-sized human, proportions like hers would have made her the bustiest woman in the world: the mother of all tits, large enough to make a fertility idol blush with envy. On the biggest woman in the world, such tits were unbelievably massive. They filled the entire space between her torso and the ground, plowing loose hay in front of her as she slowly crawled towards him.

The titanic orbs jiggled and rippled like nothing Myo had ever seen before. Gods, each of those tits is bigger than a normal person! As merely half a man himself, Myo didn’t even come close.

The rattling of her manacles snapped him out of his trance. He was so stunned with the sight of her, both entranced with her appearance and terrified still from her size, that he hadn’t realized she had him trapped between her enormous form and the cave walls, until it was too late. She reached one massive hand towards him from the right, and he panicked, sprinting for his left… straight into her other hand.

“Gotcha!” the giantess boomed in triumph. At least Myo knew what kind of monster would end his life.

Powerful fingers closed around his legs, and he was lifted high off the ground, closer and closer to that striking face, to those jaws he was certain would chop through him like a guillotine. 

He squirmed and struggled as any creature would in the grip of a predator, pushing both arms out at his sides, trying to dislodge her fingers away from his waist, but nothing budged. When that failed, he tried using both of his arms to pry just one finger off him, summoning all of his strength for this last desperate attempt at survival. 

His muscles protested at the strain, and within moments he collapsed into her iron grip. She hadn't even bothered to tighten her fist around him. Apparently all of his strength was not a match for a single finger of this giantess.

“A worthy effort, but futile.” She tittered at his pitiful attempts to break free, holding him close to her massive tits.

He should have known better than to flee so predictably. She’d caught him like a chicken in its coop, and now he was completely at her mercy. If he weren’t so dehydrated from his journey, he would surely have pissed himself.

Completely out of options, and certain his death was finally at hand, Myo screamed and sobbed for his life.

“No! No! Let me go! Please! Please let me go!” The giantess remained unmoved.

It was all so unfair. Bigger people had been tormenting him all his life, and now the biggest one of them all was going to eat him.

After Myo screamed his lungs out he began to hyperventilate. With every breath he took, the giantess’s grip tightened around him, like a python’s coils, and Myo became dangerously light-headed. In spite of his agony, some corner of his mind welcomed this small mercy. Blacking out was his body's only way to spare him some pain in his final moments.

As his world went dark, the last thing Myo felt was a strange wetness, then, blackness.

For Surabi, the last several weeks of captivity had been mostly a blur of melancholy, and monotony. This day was proving to be full of surprises. A guard had gotten too close to the bars, and she nearly tore his leg from his hips. She failed to kill him before spears were thrust through the bars at her, and more importantly, she never got his keys. All she received for her troubles were his whip, a knife too tiny for her use, and half a dozen cuts on her arms. 

She swore that the next male who tried to discipline her would die by her hand.

Apparently the little savages were too clever to give her another chance at vengeance. Instead they sent in this pitiful little thing to feed her. The basket of food was so tiny, Surabi wondered if her captors expected her to eat the carrier as well. She was hungry and angry enough, and might have done just that. Equal parts rage at her captors and boredom from weeks in her dark cage had made her cruel, vindictive, and she delighted for a time in taunting the little thing that dared disturb her. Like a cat with a mouse playing with its food, she made a game of frightening and cornering her prey.

But once she began to squeeze it between her fingers, the creature let out the most piercing, terrified screams. It was those sounds that cut straight through her sorrow, her frustration, and her rage, awakening a part of Surabi that had all but dried out completely from her captivity. Like the sound of a crying baby to a mother, her body answered, and the little creature’s cries triggered her lactation instantly. Far from dry, she practically showered it with her milk. Apparently that was too much for the little thing, which promptly fainted in her grasp. 

That sudden jolt of maternal hormones was enough to shock Surabi out of her cruel games. As her chest filled with both milk and remorse, she sincerely hoped that she hadn’t squeezed it too hard. With her mind no longer set on murder, her training kicked in, and she began to examine the little person in her grasp like a sick patient brought to her for treatment. 

All the people of this land were tiny, Surabi had been prepared for that. Neither the males nor even the females could have matched the height of her sire, still shy of her hips. Yet this one was the smallest she’d seen by far, probably half the mass of his fellows, and hardly as tall as her foot was long.

Surabi maneuvered herself under her only light source, removed the stinking rags from the little body, ripped the leather strip from its neck, and laid it flat atop her breasts for inspection. 

Ah, not an it, a he!

It was so hard for her to tell sometimes, the men and women of this land were both of similar size, and most of the women had hardly any breasts to speak of. The little male’s reproductive organs were small, like the rest of him, but when she felt his testicles they showed clear signs of having fully descended, and his penis hardened immediately from the stimulation. 

So he doesn’t have enough blood to maintain consciousness under stress, but he does have blood to spare for an erection. How cute! That was a surprising find. Until then she had assumed it—he—was a child. Intrigued, Surabi wondered if he was really done growing. While his limbs were short, they seemed proportional enough for his stature. She ran her fingers along the long bones of his limbs—not so long in his case—tapping with her fingers, listening, checking for the telltale signs of fused growth plates. The differences would be subtle on such a tiny body, but he was also malnourished, and his protruding bones were easier to examine. She was shocked to find that his growth plates were indeed sealed; this was to be his full adult height.

Amazing! He is a fully mature, yet remarkably tiny, male! Not a boy, a man! The smallest man ever seen!

Surabi wished she’d had her journal to record this finding, not that anyone back home would have believed her without some sort of proof. Had he died, she would have made sure to collect his skeleton for the university, though she was glad it hadn’t come to that. 

Further examination showed intense bruising, minor cuts, and old scars all over his chest, his back, and his face. Yet, the worst injuries she found were the blisters around the wrists and ankles. 

Oh… Now she understood. Those were the marks of manacles and chains, just like hers. That strip of leather was not a local fashion, it was a slave collar. Oh! You poor, poor thing, you weren’t sent to hurt me, were you? You were sent here to die. 

It was a good thing she hadn’t killed him immediately. Surabi felt a great swell of pity for this adorable little man; another innocent slave, used and abused, just like herself.

Only once she’d completed the examination did she realize her nipples had continued leaking. The flow was not as great as it had been when they started, but his mere presence seemed enough to keep them going. She knew this had to be hidden from the guards. If the savages saw her lactating they'd never stop trying to milk her, and she’d spend the rest of her life locked chained hand and foot with their grubby little paws on her teats. The very thought of those unworthy baboons getting to drink her milk—milk fit for the mouths of queens!—filled her with fury. 

And then there was the little man to consider.

And if the guards got their hands on him again, they would surely beat him, and savagely at that. 

This littlest of savages didn’t deserve any more pain, at least not from her. Surabi clutched him to her breast, gathered about the food he had brought, then scooted herself over the the far side of the cage, as far away from the savage guards as she could get.

She maneuvered the little man as gently she could with her manacled hands, and cradled his head against her dripping nipple. It didn't take long for him to reflexively nurse from her. Relief came to her instantly.

Goddesses, I needed this. How many months has it been since I’ve nursed someone? A Mammun should never go as dry as I had become. Never again. 

The sensation of his tiny lips locked onto her nipple, his tongue curling around, the sight of his cheeks hollowing as he sucked and swallowed her milk… it was sublime. She’d almost forgotten how much she needed someone to help, someone to feed. Surabi hadn’t felt this good in months. A part of her even began to wonder how that little mouth might feel on her clit, but she would have to try that another time. He needed to feed, and her breasts were swelling rapidly under his attentions. She could only hope that the little guy had enough room in his belly to take the edge off of her. 

As he drank from her she combed through his scalp with her left hand, ate her meager provisions with her right, and began to process the events of the last few minutes. Though she’d never gone so long without milking before, it was no wonder her milk came in so suddenly at the sight and sound of him in distress. The little man was like a super stimulus; tiny, hungry, and helpless without her. Were those traits not the very essence of cuteness? Pure maleness, distilled into such a small package. That tiny button nose, light brown hair, and delicate features could turn out quite sexy if developed further with her expertise. He was malnourished, but that only made her want to protect and produce for him even more, put some meat on his bones. Not to mention plumping up the other sort of bone, but that would have to wait for later.

His arrival had changed everything. So many possibilities now opened up to her. Surabi spent every day, every hour, dreaming of escape, of reaching her sisters. Though she had succeeded in killing or maiming many of her captors, she came no closer to freedom. All the while, she had prayed to every goddess she knew, hoping that just one would listen and send help. It seemed one had come through. Since his cries had brought her milk back,she suspected Bodan, The Mother, though she would continue to hedge her prayers in case she had guessed wrong. 

“Thank you, Bodan, Luna, Oroq. I will make the most of this gift.” She had been praying for one of her sisters, but this little one was far better than nothing, and she was truly grateful. Now, with a little accomplice and her milk returned… Yes, this just might work. They could help each other out. Certainly no warrior, but his diminutive form could make him a useful agent; a scout, or a thief, able to skulk about unseen. And he wouldn’t be very taxing to feed, that could prove most crucial if she escaped this cage. He could be her agent, her guide through this pitiful excuse for a civilization, and she could protect him, maybe make him a little less feeble. 

She would have to fix that fainting problem, get some iron into him, increase his blood supply, glycogen reserves, and something to calm him down. That would be a good place to start. Her breasts detected many of his deficiencies, and automatically supplemented her milk with the necessary vitamins and nutrients. His body and mind would both require strengthening, molding, guidance. Luckily for the both of them, Surabi was an expert in such matters. 

It was a good thing the goddesses had sent him to me, not my sisters. They wouldn’t have any use for such unrefined clay. Keep suckling little one! You'll need all your meager strength if you're to get us out of this hell.