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THREAD: Collection o/ Mini Stories!

Here’s a collection of mini-stories I’ve written over the years. Feel free to PM me about them sometime.

WARNING: Some of these are fairly dark. I reserve my freedom of speech.


Crunchy Footrest




Hard-working giant feet are a treacherous thing for a tiny to find himself near. Looming, undiscriminating and often wide, they are even more life-threatening when catching a human in the act of stealing their precious food. They like to exact their revenge slowly. Your bones don’t stand a chance.

You come to - on an uneven, rippled surface surrounded by deep darkness. A linear, blinding white light paints your clammy, chiseled features. You’re dazed, cold, and confused as to where you are or why you’re even here. But then, it all starts slowly coming back to you - the seemingly innocent hunt for food in a garden you seemed to miraculously come across, right as your feeble stomach was tearing itself apart.

You were stuck in an unfamiliar place, but with no idea what to do. You commanded your arms and legs to move, with little success.

There’s movement behind you and you completely freeze.

PLOP! A warm, callous brute force comes out of nowhere and forces you mercilessly into the plush surface below. Seeing stars, you grunt and squirm and holler for relief as your cartilage and bones scream at you for answers. Your eyes adjust, and you can hardly make sense of what exactly you’re seeing... a colossal pair of soles

Before you can open your lips which were seething in agony already, another colossal foot stacks on top of the other, doubling the weight and crumpling you around its heel like paper. 

SNAAAAP. Your vision goes blurry as your back gives out, breaking in two places. You unravel from the calloused heel, broken, the dominant sole literally flattening you into the surface below. An inhuman scream escapes your lips as the air leaves your body. A dark chuckle can be heard in the background, but you’re hardly coherent enough to notice. 

You’re stuck beneath the giant’s feet, broken, for what seems like an eternity. Every so often, you’ll get a frank reminder that you’re still alive as he grinds his soles into your already mangled flesh.

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Logan·

Shower Time - Artwork by Trample Fantasy



No one dreams of getting their guts flattened to the floor - or do they?

Look at that fucking squash. I mean, can you imagine how fucking intense that might be? Your Sir’s weight crushing you, neck-to-flattened stomach. How excruciating it must be for the soles of his feet to drive into the pit of your guts to kiss your spine?

The shower water collects along his legs and channels between his toes. You look nearly cut in half, guts rearranged to accommodate his stature. He’s reduced you to a mortal mat as he showers on without care for the pulse beneath him.

You’re trash. Even so, you’ve got a job to do. Take his fucking weight. Even if the seconds feel thrice as long. Even as your torso trembles holding him up. Focus on the statue of perfection you’re lucky enough to serve. Even Atlas bitched less.

Complaints get consequences. You don’t want consequences. A broken rib in the right place is a painful way to go.

Good boy.