All the Small Things

You've always had a fondness for small things.

Cute little dogs, tiny kittens, miniatures, flowers just before they bud--all the small things in life were your most precious treasure and you thought they should be treated as such. This wasn't so unusual. Lots and lots of girls liked cute stuff.

The problem was, you weren't just any girl. You were a half-giant half-orc. To put it bluntly, you were nine feet tall, broad-shouldered, with big tusks, and hands that could crush even normal-sized things, let alone the small, itty-bitty, little things you liked the most.

You worked as a blacksmith apprentice. There were many long hard days in the forge, lifting giant sheets of metal that even some of the bigger orcs struggled with, and helping to put together great big ships that sailed cargo across the Forbidden Ocean. At night, you were taking classes at a small, local college and trying to get your degree in the arts.

Most of your classes you had to take online and rent a super-sized computer to complete, but one class rearranged itself specifically so that you could join in person, and so you had a painting class outside once a week where you could go and meet with your fellow students.

Amongst them you now had a good friend who you spoke to basically every day. Connor Hasse was a human in that class, and someone you grew to know well.

You didn't typically get along with a lot of humans.

Most of them just didn't bother with you, like you didn't even exist unless you turned from wall-to-person. Sometimes they'd curse you, or almost piss themselves in fright and run out of your shadow. They ran like orcs were still hunting human villages and eating children.

He wasn't the sort of person you expected to get along with, even if he wasn't human. He reminded you a lot of the wielders you knew. Quiet, with a chip-on-the-shoulder kind of attitude and a bit of cockiness thrown in there for good measure. He was covered in tattoos and wore a funny fuzzy hat, which was the first thing you'd noticed about him.

All this kind of soured you to him at first, but that was before you saw his paintings. The tiny little miniature drawings that he always made on these huge canvases, which so perfectly emphasized how small the drawings were, until they were almost lost. You were so enchanted you couldn't help but try to be his friend.

By talking to him, you learned he had similar tastes to you (and that maybe you shouldn't have judged him by race so quickly. You were also fairly intimidating and scary-looking!)

In truth, he was actually a really good guy. Even-tempered, understanding, and very talented. Sweet too, in his own way. You told him probably a little too much about yourself. It started off innocent enough, just sharing about your obviously overlapping hobbies regarding collecting miniatures.

Then he'd gifted you one of his paintings, one made on a canvas so large you could comfortably pick it up, and study the little drawing of a castle he'd put in the middle of it. There was a tiny building and a little dragon with a princess inside, small but remarkably detailed. It was your most prized possession.

You'd cried when he'd given it to you and he'd seemed very flustered over it, brushing off your compliments like he always did. After that, he moved from "classmate" to "friend" and he started inviting you out places.

Then, the longer you knew him, the conversations drifted off to places that were perhaps a little more explicit.  

You eventually admitted that it was a kink. It was after a while, when you'd gotten into the habit of him asking you out. You'd been grateful for the break, since work had been hard, and you ended up getting way too drunk.

You told him you liked small people. Really small people. Dwarves and gnomes and fairies were your most favorite.  

You told him that your fantasy was to one day see a fairy in real life, and then drunkenly admitted that seeing a fairy having sex with your own eyes would be even more exciting, but they were so rare you bemoaned that it was an impossible dream.

He'd asked then if you'd wanted to have sex with a fairy and you quickly shook your head. You liked the idea of that, but would worry too much over hurting your partner if you actually tried it. Even a dwarf guy would probably get crushed by you, it just didn't seem to you like a good idea.  

Connor nodded, and looked kind of thoughtful after that, but he never judged you for any of your fantasies (and you ended up telling him about a lot of them!)

For some reason or another, he was on your mind during your shift at the shop. It was kind of a rough day at work, it was oddly busy and a few accidents made the work pile up on you.

Really, you just wished you were with him instead of here...

The phone you keep in your work pants buzzes while you're on the job, and you shunt a big cart the rest of the way, before you check it. It's from Connor, which surprises you a bit, but you flick the unlock screen open and read:

Place I'd like to show you. Meet me at 9:30. Dress well.

And then an address you didn't know.

You don't know what possessed you to do so, but you agree to go.

And so, at 9:27 that night, dressed up in your best, you arrive at the specified address feeling very anxious. You towered over everyone around you--which wasn't too unusual--but looking at how everyone was dressed here made you feel all the more big. They wore skimpy little costumes and sometimes just straight up lingerie, with just a pitchfork or angel wings to get the point of the outfit across.

How had you forgotten it was Halloween?

You didn't really need a costume to look scary, but still, you should have worn something themed. It made you feel a little out of place. And not... well, not very cute, even though you thought you'd dressed up a bit, in the only dress you owned and everything. You hang your head a bit, feeling like this wasn't going very well.

"Hey." A more familiar voice greets you, and you look a little further down to see Connor still in his cute little hat. You blush.

"Oh, hey." Is all you say, but for some reason he laughs.

"Your voice is so low, it's hard to hear out here." He half yells back.

He's right. He's invited you to some kind of club, and the sound of music blaring inside is echoing out on the street side with a dull thump. It's already pretty loud.

You can't imagine how loud it is on the inside. Louder even than the blacksmithery.

He looks up and down (well, up and up), and asks, "Are you dressed up like a princess?"

"You think I look like a princess?" You ask back, a little bashful. He must only half-year you; he puts his hand on your forearm and gets in closer.

"You look great!" He assures you. Then he points his thumb to the entrance. "Let's head inside!"

You've never been to a place like this before. You think that over and over, as Connor gets both of you past the bouncer. He's a recognizable man, with finger tattoos and those deep-set eyes. They nod along when he tells them he's a regular and let him in.

It's a nice club, dark with neon lights and pulsing music, and rooms all over with different themes. Not to mention it had really tall ceilings. You look a little out of place--you're not sure how, but it seems like everybody can tell that you're not used to being in places like this.

Or maybe they're looking at you because you're the only orc-folk around (albeit a shy half-giant one.) Connor has taken you by the hand and is leading you through the crowd. Even though it's busy in here, they open the way for the two of you. The music is too loud, and this place is too crowded, as you worry that even letting your arms swing too much might hurt someone.

"I know this isn't really your scene!" He yells out over the music.

You shake your head. "No. This is fine." You could handle the noise. It was just so busy.

"I promise, you're going to love this." He assures you for the fourth or fifth time.

It's a maze-like place, but he takes you through with a clear and certain destination.

A bartender stops you and serves you a several-gallon-sized drink, and at first you try to refuse, but the guy mentions the owner saw you, and thanks you for picking his club and adding to the atmosphere; it's on him. You take it then (it must be really expensive), and while Connor looks a little perturbed, he tells you that you've almost made it to where he wants to take you.

There're another two doors and then you end up in a room that's a little quieter than the others, in a secret basement floor of this building. A guard checks a little ID that flashes his way, then lets the two of you in. He's an orc too, the first of your kind you've seen, and he gives you an appreciative up-and-down look.

"She's with me." Connor then says firmly and slips the guy a bit of money.

"Sorry, Hasse," The guy shrugs it off. "How was I supposed to know--not like her ears are pierced or nothing."

Connor finishes with, "No harm, no foul."

"Thanks for looking out for me." You tell him as you walk off; you don't have to yell anymore, but you bend down so that your heads are a little closer together.

He rubs the back of his neck and avoids your gaze. "I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have brought you here. There are so many eyes."

So, he didn't really want to be seen with you... Well, he was a human; it was expected. You stand up straight and look a bit more downcast. Maybe he was just nice bringing you along.

"What was it you wanted to show me?" You ask him, and he bobs his head.

"Right, don't want to miss the show." Then he smirks up at you. "Come on, we should be just in time."

Just a bit more curious, you head down another hallway and then find a strange kind of viewing room. It's shaped like an octagon, and there's a little stage in the center. The room is dark save for one spot light that's trained on the stage from somewhere in the walls.

You slip into the room, and Connor leads you along the back wall until he gets to a spot he likes, then he points at the center and asks you, "Can you see?"

"See what--?" You begin to ask than you stop yourself. Instead gasping.

There they are. In the center of the room is a big orcish lady, and in her hand, she holds the tiniest, daintiest little fairy woman. She's ravenously eating her out, and the fairy looks like she's about to die from pleasure. Her head tilts over her shoulder and her eyes roll back. Her tiny little hands hold onto the orc's tusks and her moans are a little jingle on the air.

Your chest goes flush first. The sight is so unexpected. You've never imagined someone would actually do this. The tongue alone must nearly split the fairy in two. When she writhes in pleasure, a pleasant little tinkling windchime sound fills up the quiet spaces in the room and it smells strongly of pollen in the air. For a little creature, she sure filled up the room. Everyone's attention was on her.

The orc then lifted her up by the little waist, so careful not to crush her tiny body, and made a show of teasing the wetness between her quaking thighs with the very tip of her finger, which was finely manicured. The fairy bucked her hips and rode it as well as any woman might try to ride a cock, and, and, and--

It was too much for you. You backed up, finding a door not so far from the back of the club.

It led to a small courtyard outside and, thankfully, some fresh air that wasn't stuffy with the sounds and scent of sex. Your nose was sensitive and it wasn't even that you didn't like the show--you did very much so! Probably too much... you were too hot, on the verge of being unable to control yourself, which was an honest danger for everyone.

You weren't sure if it was the drink or the sight of that fairy girl, or the scent of sex, or what. But you were panting and feeling a warmth in your person that was shocking and warm.

Connor follows you not so long after and he's got a guilty look about him.

Downcast, he sits beside you and sighs. "Damn, I'm sorry. I really thought you'd be into that. I probably should have warned you what kind of surprise I had in mind before I took you here."

"I liked it." You say, voice barely audible.

"I don't blame you for being mad at me. This was a bad idea... I don't know what I was thinking... I just saw the show headline and I thought you've got to see this, I mean, what are the chances--"

"Connor, I said I liked it." You repeat, and he shuts his mouth. "I'm just... overwhelmed. I guess."

"Overwhelmed, you?" He huffs a laugh, "Can't say I expected that."

"Why? Because I'm big?"

"What--no!" He rolled his eyes. "Not everything is about being half-giant, you know. No, you just never seem affected by anything except cute shit."

"Oh..." You exhale, embarrassed.

Then he seems to back up a bit. "What do you mean by overwhelmed?"

"I mean what I said." You mutter back now, even more embarrassed.

"Did it turn you on, the show in there?"

You nod, unable to speak.

"So much, you couldn't even watch anymore." He said a little more thoughtfully.

You nod again.

He puts a hand on yours, which rests on your lap, and while you're surprised, you don't tell him not to touch you. The sight of it sends your thoughts spiralling. It's a man's hand, but it's so small compared to your thick thigh that it also turns you on.

You never thought of him as small until this moment. Just another person who likes small things. But compared to you he is small. Not very very small, like that little fairy lady, but smaller.

He was just big enough that you're not terrified you could crush him. He can grab your hand, and you feel it there. He can touch you, and it's not just like a breathy wind. The idea of that makes your heart beat faster--even faster than it did looking at that little fairy girl.

He sees this on you, and in the kind of fretful way you look at him, and his hand moves. From your hand, to your knee. Then it creeps up a bit, towards the edge of your skirt.

"She just looks like a... a little fairy princess all dressed like that and... well, you know." You couldn't bear to finish the sentence. "She was very pretty. And very small." Then you add on, a little tight feeling and distracted. "You're also kind of small, you know."

"I am?"

You nod.

"Do you like that?" He prods.

You nod again.

"Would you like me to... help you get control of yourself?" He asks.

You think about it, then just nod once, a bob of your head really.

His fingers, then his hand, then his wrist, all push aside the fabric of your dress and he seeks out the warmth between your thighs. You squeeze them together when he manages to dive deep enough. It's mildly awkward at first as he shifts closer and tries to find the right place to touch your (your anatomy is rather large after all).

Then the tips of his fingers, which even when it's two or three have a precious kind of size to them, enter you and tease at your entrance--which just so happens to be most sensitive at its shallowest places--you let out a low, low sound. It's a moan.

You've moaned in public! You might just die of embarrassment, but he's emboldened.

He continues to tease you and leans in so that you might hear his voice.

He puts a hand on your thigh and says, "You look like my princess tonight. You're always beautiful." He tells you, and you can't help but unravel a little. It's too sweet.

No man has ever told you that before.

You clench up, surprising him a moment before he realizes that you've cum on his hand, and your wetness gushes out like a fountain, down your legs and on the bench. It's a lot of fluid; you're lucky that it's nighttime and everyone else is really drunk, or they would have realized that they just got a second kind of show on the outside.

"I thought you liked small things." You mutter to him, panting a bit.

He chuckles. "No, I like size differences. I thought that was obvious."

Oh. That was a distinct difference. You haven't even calmed down all the way when he goes out and asks:

"Would you go out with me then?"

And it might not be very becoming of a woman your suture, but you flush a bit, and water comes up to your eyes. "You really want to be with me? Even though I'm--"

This time he cuts you off, "Even though you're a total pervert. Yeah."

You nod, and when he crawls up to you, he kisses your nose, and it's so cute you grab him without thinking and hug him tightly. He grunts a bit, but somehow doesn't end up squashed, and you think to yourself, these human men are a little more durable than you expected.

That's good, if he's going to keep up with you, he's going to need to be!