Saving a Little Man

Surabi

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 ****, 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 lightsource, 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 **** collar. 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 ****, 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.

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"Saved by the Giantess Alchemist" has taken a backseat to Chemical Control Lately, but I do intend to come back to it at some point, once I'm done with my more popular story.