Carl
By: Gib101

Note: Posted here with thanks to Gib101 of Coiled Fist

The parcel was delivered to Carl’s door while he was away. He did not see who delivered it, it had no stamps and no markings on it: just his address and a return address. It was from Ian, and it was marked with several FRAGILE stickers. It looked like a small shoebox. He unlocked his front door, and then carefully picked up the package. He didn’t dare to hope what it might be, but he knew that he should be careful.

Carl walked into his front room, familiar in many ways and yet suddenly new because of the package in his hands. Possibilities were open. He smiled; he wanted to shake the box, but he didn’t want to take the chance. He knew what he had to do.

He put it down gently on the table, then went and got changed. He got out of his day’s clothes and put on something relaxed; sweatpants and a T-shirt. As an afterthought he threw the covers on the bed; probably wouldn’t need it, but you never knew. He walked back into the main room, over to the table and sat down. Almost gingerly, he started to open the parcel. The more he unwrapped, the more he hoped. Inside he found a box and warily removed the lid. There was a layer of cotton just within; and right at the very top was a stopwatch.

Carl looked at the stopwatch curiously for a moment, remembering the fantasy story that Ian had sent him. That had been fantasy, yet it might be coming true…? He didn’t know. He took a deep breath. He tasted strong, erotic magic: the best kind. He looked at the stopwatch: it was ticking just past thirty minutes. He didn’t know when it had started, but it told him he had limited time. He pinched the top layer of cotton between thumb and index finger, lifted it out.

The first layer of cotton reached halfway through the box, and under that was a second layer. In between: in between was the form of a little man, apparently curled in slumber. Very carefully, Carl lifted the box and looked closely, then moved it to his ear; he thought he could him snoring very softly. Carl smiled. He was alive. And he was Ian. He put the box down on the table and watched the little man for a moment. He looked, indeed, asleep: he would roll over and sigh softly, and seemed to be just the other side of wakefulness. Carl watched his sleep; he was completely naked, beautifully formed, even nicer than what he had seen in Ian’s pictures.

Carl reached one hand into the box and touched the little man, then quickly drew his hand out again. Ian woke, looked around; it seemed to take a second for him to realize where he was. Then he looked up, up at Carl. Their eyes locked for a second; Carl smiled down on the tiny figure. A range of emotion touched the little man’s expression: fear, lust, joy, excitement, expectation… and back to fear. Fear and excitement were easily the two dominant ones that cancelled out everything else in his face.

“WELCOME,” Carl whispered, although he saw Ian wince and new that his voice was loud to the little man. Ian stared up at him, and appeared to scramble back as best he could in the soft cotton material, until he reached one wall of the box… and then the little man tried to climb down the wall and under the layer of cotton. Carl smiled. He let him think that he had a tiny bit of control: for the moment. That would all soon come to an end. Carl could feel his member swelling as he thought about that.

He plucked out the bottom layer of cotton, revealing the little figure cowering in the corner of the box. This was too much. Carl reached his hand back in, thumb and index finger poised to seize one of Ian’s limbs. The little man tried his best to scramble away from Carl’s hand, and the bigger man yielded for a few seconds; he would fail to catch his prey, just barely, closing his fingers just as Ian slipped through. It was fun, watching the little man tire out and knowing that Carl could actually catch him any time he wanted to. Carl leaned in, closer to the box, to see the tiny man a little better. Every few seconds, Ian would look up at him pleadingly. Pleading for what, though, Carl was not sure.

After a few minutes, Carl decided he was done. He caught the little man’s arm; a second later he had Ian his hand. He lifted the little man from the box as he struggled in Carl’s grip, tiny naked legs dangling from his fist. Man Carl was hard; he would never have thought that he would find this kind of thing so exhilarating. He opened his left hand and dropped the little man into it; Ian lay there, spread eagled, looking up at his captor. Ian was just as hard as Carl; his tiny body was perfect, right down to the rigid dick standing at attention. Ian didn’t quite fit in Carl palm; his legs hung over the edge. Carl touched the little body with his finger, caressed him and stroked the warm, tiny body; Ian pushed ineffectually on the huge finger that was touching him. Carl smiled, and pushed back.

“YOU’D BETTER BE CAREFUL,” Carl said as softly as he could. “I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO CRUSH YOU. YOU’D BETTER BE NICE.” He smiled down at the little man. “YOU SURE LOOK DELICIOUS.”

On a whim, without a thought, Carl brought the little man closer to his face; he opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and slowly licked the little man, up one thigh and over his stomach to his chest. He felt wonderful, and tasted better. Ian’s little body was stiff, powerful, and strong. His aroma was exotic and musky. His little arms and legs moved with incredible sensuality; Carl wanted him inside. He didn’t care how, but he wanted to feel Ian within his body. Carl glanced at the watch again, picked it up. Not much time: he knew how this would end. A half hour of excitement was ticking away. He wanted to enjoy it fully.

The bigger man closed his fist on Ian, feeling the tiny, squirming form in his fist. He walked back to the bedroom; he was glad he had thrown the bed together. The stopwatch was put on the pillow, where he could watch it. He climbed onto the mattress, stomach down, his dick enjoying the contact with the lower sheet. He brought his fist up, looked at the tiny legs kicking in mid air. He let Ian slip slightly, until the tiny ass had slipped out of his grip; Carl explored the little butt with one finger, then licked it. Ian tasted great.

Carl put the little man down on his pillow. The bed bounced a bit as Carl moved around, getting comfortable; it made Ian shift and fall. The small man looked up at Carl as he scrambled to his tiny feet.

“YOU KNOW WHAT’S COMING, DON’T YOU?”

“Carl,” the little man said… his voice was hardly more than a whisper, a squeak. Carl smiled down at him. “Please Carl, be careful….”

Carl drew saliva into his mouth, spit on the little man. The first gob landed on his head, dripping off Ian’s hair. The little man looked up and smiled. The second and third gobs fell onto hands reaching up for the giant’s spit. Ian took the slimy liquid and rubbed it all over his tiny body.

“I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT,” Carl said. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT. LET ME KISS YOU.” Carl leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on the little man until the figure disappeared from view under his nose. He closed his eyes as Ian touched his chin. Carl puckered his lips, and felt the little man running his hands over his skin. And then…

The next few minutes were the ultimate in foreplay that Carl had ever experienced. The little man explored Carl’s lips and moustache and nose and cheeks, his entire face. Carl felt every touch, every caress and every embrace. Lathered with his own spit, Ian slid over Carl’s skin. The giant breathed heavily as he took in the little man’s intoxicating aroma, felt his nostrils flare and new that Ian would enjoy that. He could feel his dick screaming for attention; he slowly moved it on the bed, but he didn’t want to cum yet. He licked the little man, opened his mouth and felt Ian’s hands on his teeth, his tongue, and the roof. Ian made small noises, moans and sighs, but in general was very quiet. Carl lost himself in the little man’s experience.

Suddenly he snapped back to reality and looked back at the watch. Six minutes. Just enough time. He drew himself up and over the little man; he saw that Ian understood exactly what was happening. The little man was suddenly scared shitless.

“IT’S TIME,” Carl said. “AND NOW… THE ORAL SEX. BE A GOOD LITTLE MAN. I’LL WARN YOU RIGHT NOW THAT I SWALLOW WHEN A GUY CUMS IN MY MOUTH. YOU’LL BE NO EXCEPTION.” He smiled down at his tiny trick, opened his mouth… and took in the little man as far as he would go.

It was better than Carl could have dreamed. It was more than just oral sex. It was total sex. He was sucking more than just Ian’s dick… he was sucking Ian himself. Back and forth, he sucked the little man in and out. He felt arms and legs and chest and dick with his tongue, felt Ian moving deep in his mouth, right to the back. And Carl knew that the little man was enjoying it. He was trying desperately not to cum, but it was a losing battle. Ian did not scream or shout or plead… much though Carl might have enjoyed that. For the most part Carl just had him in his mouth up to his ass or thighs… but at one point he sucked him in deeply, feeling Ian’s soft hair moving deep in his gullet, his hands in his throat, and closed his lips on the tiny ankles.

Then Carl felt the little body stiffen, he felt a taste of sweet saltiness explode against his tongue. He took a deep breath; he looked at the watch. One minute. “YOU ARE SO GOING DOWN MY THROAT…”

Carl rolled onto his back, started pumping his member with abandon. He felt the little man squirming in his mouth, trying to escape. But he was already halfway down. Carl let the little man move slightly; he wanted him to get one last breath before he went down. He felt Ian’s last gasp for air, and then he swallowed. Hard. Several times. He stuck his tongue between the tiny legs and pushed. He actually had to stop massaging his dick because he didn’t want to cum until he felt the little man inside him. That would come.

It was actually much easier than he had thought. Ian was tall, and thin, and all lubricated… perfect for just sliding down. As the little feet slipped into his throat, the last part of Ian going down, Carl started again with his dick. With every pump he felt Ian moving, slipping deeper inside him. Alive. A second later he felt the little man in his stomach…

“Carl, help… fuck, NO!”

The voice came from inside. Deep inside. Ian was becoming part of him. That was enough. His dick exploded in ecstasy. The giant spewed cum right up to his chin. Ah, that was power.

Then the stopwatch went off.

In the original fantasy that Ian had written, the stopwatch marked the end of the experience; the little man disappeared and went back to where he had come from. Carl had tried to time it so that the little man would still be alive when the stopwatch went off; he would have had that last breath before going down. But as it was, Carl never spoke to Ian again. He saw him online: or at least his screen name reappeared, some days later. But they never spoke in spite of Carl attempts at contact. So Carl imagined that he had never gone back. The little man was still within him.

And on that thought, Carl got off more often than he ever admitted.

The End