Chapter 37 (Patreon)

Chad sat beside Stewart, David, and Henry as Miguel talked. "None of us are here by choice, cabron. Abandoned, plucked and stolen, or scavenged off the street, we were found by the owner or her employees. They brought us back here, gave us food and shelter, and then explained what our lives would become. Objects for the entertainment of strangers and their profit. There is no choice, amigos; it is serve or die."

"That's illegal," Chad frowned, "Tiny or not, you still have rights in this country."

"You think people give a shit about the voices of tiny dancers?" Miguel scoffed, "You live in a fantasy land, cabron. The world you knew before the pandemic is gone. You stand in a glimpse of the future for people like us. Easily overlooked, difficult to track, and less than human. Parts of society may cling to older ways, but this country is slowly adopting the mentality that we are nothing more than toys for others. This place is a garden of sin, designed to bring out the worst in people and patrons. The music, the lights, and the atmosphere are all carefully selected to entice someone to lower their inhibitions. Everyone has a dark side, amigo, and this place preys on that fact."

"Our family and friends are out there," Stewart said, "I know Victoria, and she's not someone that's going to fall victim to all of this nonsense."

"What's done in the dark is brought to the light here," Miguel shook his head, "Innocence is a lie, and whatever you think that woman is, you're mistaken. Some are gentler than others, but everyone falls victim to the new order sooner or later. She may be reluctant, but all it takes is pressure from someone close for her to let herself go. Forget your friends, amigos, save yourselves, and return to your ride. If the women of this club have taken them, it is already too late for them."

"I'm not abandoning them," Chad stood up, "If what you're saying is true, then they need us more than ever."

"Their survival is not guaranteed," Miguel sighed, "The rules here are simple enough. What happens here stays here. I've watched the lives of good men, young ones too, be snuffed out because a woman wanted to test the limits of one of us. Crushed, eaten, broken, I've seen it all time and again. Whether it be because of anger at a breakup, passion, or even curiosity, the devil waits outside these walls for its next victim. You die here, and nobody will report it or mourn you. You'll be another casualty that doesn't even make the margins of this place. Your friends could already be dead. Why risk yourselves to save men that are already condemned?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Chad replied, "I couldn't live with myself if I knew there was a chance I could have saved them. Until I know they're gone, I will keep trying."

"I've heard about places like this," Stewart said, "I thought they were just conspiracy theories, but this is real life. Miguel, what about you? How did you end up here?"

"Tch, my daughter works for the owner," Miguel replied, his voice solemn and grim, "She grew tired of caring for me and decided I'd be worth more as an entertainer than a father."

"You're joking," Stewart said, "Your own family did this to you?"

"As I said, everyone has a dark side," Miguel sighed, "I am telling you all to save yourselves not because of cruelty but because there is still a chance for you. Get out of here while you still can and pray for your friends. There's no sense in spilling more blood if it can be helped."

"It's a chance I'm going to have to take," Chad said, "I'm sorry for what's happened to you, what your daughter did, but I'm not leaving Joey and Trevor to fend for themselves. You two can go on, but I'm going after them. Afterward, we can get the word out about this place and what's happening here."

"Don't," Miguel shook his head, "All that would do is cause more pain to these men. Management would think someone leaked information, and they'd make an example of us before making us testify against your claims. Places like this won't go away, amigo, not by your word against theirs. There will always be someone bigger waiting to squash anyone who gets in the way of their profits. Do what you want, but don't drag these men deeper into the muck than they already are."

"What do you mean by making an example?" Chad asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Miguel looked away and frowned behind his mask, "It hasn't happened in some time now. We used to dream of escaping, being free again, or at least being treated like people again. When the upper hands learned of escape attempts and potential rebellion, they responded violently, while those of us who remained had to watch. Some were pulled apart limb by limb, some were eaten alive, and a lucky few were simply squashed to a bloody pulp. I can't do much anymore, but I can try to keep these men alive. I can still hear those men screaming at night when this place closes. Your idea may have good intentions, but it will cost us more than you will ever know."

"Shit," David muttered, "Coming here was a bad idea…"

"You don't know the half of it, amigo," Miguel chuckled, "Coming here willingly means you're either ignorant or stupid. From the sound of it, you were just ignorant. Your friend here, though, he's stupid for wanting to brave what's waiting out there."

"I've done dumber things for less than a friend's life," Chad defended himself, "We might be small, but our actions still impact each other. I will not leave them out to become part of this mad machine."

"Then you go to your death and theirs," Miguel dismissed him, "I've said enough, and you've clearly made up your mind. Go play the hero, but don't expect this life to reward that sort of bravery."

"I'm going too," Stewart stood up, "I believe everything you're saying, but Trevor and Joey still have a chance to escape this. Chad's right; we have to try if we can."

"We're here because of me," David said, standing on shaky legs, "This whole thing is my fault. I couldn't live with myself if I knew there was something I could do to help our friends."

"Then you're all loco and bound for the grave," Miguel sighed, "You would be wise to leave them to their fates."

"Are you two sure about this?" Chad asked, turning to face Stewart and David, "You don't have to do this."

"We're in this together," Stewart shrugged, "Like it or not, we need to stick together. Besides, I want to see the looks on their faces when you tell them I told you so."

"I'm with you, Chad," David nodded, his legs visibly shaking as he tried to remain brave.

"If you four are going through with this, then there are a few things you should know," Miguel sighed, "The chairs have ladders etched into the back legs. Management had them commissioned so we could get down after hours. They're steep but your best bet to make it to your friends. Remember, you're not a person while you're wearing those masks. The women out there have free reign to do whatever they want to you if they catch you. Lastly, if you somehow manage to save your friends, you run. Run back to whatever hole you crawled out of as fast as possible. Good luck... you're going to need it."

"Thanks, Miguel," Chad said, taking a breath to steel himself, "This has been more helpful than you know."

"You're all fools, but I admire your dedication," Miguel said, "May the Padre be with you and keep you safe."

Chad nodded a final farewell to Miguel before turning to leave. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed his fears deeper down. He'd have been lying to himself if he said he wasn't afraid of what awaited them beyond the walls. His mother had shown a side of herself that he had never imagined, and the rest of the women had been amused by it. Miguel's story about his daughter overshadowed his hope that decency might prevail. This place was meant for depravity and debauchery, and it was designed to turn women against tinies like himself through separation of identity. Their masks hid their faces, but they likened them to the dancers trapped here. To the women waiting outside, they were nothing more than toys to be played with until broken. Chad clung to the hope that Joey and Trevor.

Chad paused at the exit as he tried to formulate a plan, "We're going to have to split up. There are four of us, and Trevor is on the other side of the floor. "

"Splitting up doesn't seem smart," Henry said, trying not to tremble as he spoke, "What if something happens to one of us?"

"No, Chad's right," Stewart shook his head, "We can cover more ground in less time if we split up. It's already going to be difficult, but we'll have a better chance at timing things right if we divide into two groups."

"We haven't done anything smart since climbing into the bag, anyway," Chad reminded them, "Coming here was a mistake, but all we can do is move forward. Keep your head on a swivel, watch to make sure you don't get grabbed, and try to help the other one if you do."

"Alright, so who's going where?" Henry asked.

"I'll see if I can get Joey," Stewart volunteered.

"Then I'll head towards Trevor," Chad said, looking between David and Henry, "You two choose who you want to go with."

"I'll go with you, buddy," David said, "I don't know if I can face Joey right now."

"That leaves me with Stewart," Henry sighed, "David, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"We're way past the point of me being okay with anything," David admitted, "All we can do is keep going and hope for the best."

"Alright, let's move out," Chad said, braving the unknown as they stepped back into the loud, dangerous club.

The quartet of tinies filed out of the small hole in the wall one by one. The loud electronic music continued to blare and feed the sensual mood of the club. Knowing what they did now, they all felt unease as they took their first steps. Some women were on their feet, and it quickly became apparent that they'd have to be quick and sure-footed. They dodged a few stray footfalls and avoided the eyes of their predators. David and Chad broke off while Stewart and Henry made their way to the table where Heather and the others were torturing Joey. The proverbial woos that echoed behind the music were a testament to the liquor flowing freely. Clearly, the later it got, the more wild the place became.

Elsewhere in the distance, Joey was enduring a hot and invasive hell he hadn't imagined. Crammed into the confines of Heather's panties, flush against her hungry pussy, Joey was fighting to keep from being sucked in. The more he struggled, the more futile it seemed. His senses were overwhelmed by the scent of Heather's growing arousal. It was disorienting to be so close to something so hot and powerful. More than that, it felt wrong, being that this was David's fiancé. This hadn't been what he'd envisioned when he proposed donning the masks. Never in a million years would he have guessed that she could be as heinously carnal as this.

Joey's predicament was made increasingly difficult and trying by the occasional touch from Heather. Her hand found its way to his outline more than once, and even a simple push or caress threatened to sink him into her lower lips. He'd been submerged face first several times already, and the fear of drowning in Heather's nectar was becoming more real by the minute. The only response he received from his struggles and squirms were subtle shivers and shudders from his tormentress. Time was immeasurable, and he could only hope and pray that Heather would pull him out before things went too far. Surely, she wouldn't kill him, right? Even if she didn't know who he was, that had to be out of the question.

Another subtle caress smashed him against her clit. The pressure from her fingertips remained longer this time. Joey was pushed deeper inside of her. His body slipped into the cavern before him, and his panic hit new highs as he thrashed and bucked. She was holding him in place! A swirling motion came with the pressure as she began using him for an intimate massage. Joey could do nothing to fight back against the pressure keeping him locked in place. The insatiable yearning from Heather was becoming his entire world. The deeper he sank into his fleshy prison, the lower his hopes fell. The pressure was released after an agonizing amount of time, and Joey had to fight to pull himself out of the abyss. Gasping for air, Joey could only cling to the hope that his torment would end before he was pushed too far.

Beyond Joey's panty prison, Heather and the other women were having the time of their lives. Three drinks in, with more to come, the women were beginning to loosen up and relax more and more. The air of lust and freedom that permeated the club coupled nicely with their growing buzz. Slowly, all of them were enjoying their fun, blissfully unaware of the pain they were causing the men at their disposal. Under the illusion of consent, they enjoyed free reign of fun and games with their entertainment. Rose had removed her little captive to hand him off to Pam for some fun. She watched her daughter-in-law as she gave into desires that she'd buried deep within her. All the while, she waited and watched for her next little playmate to appear. She could be patient while the others had their fun; hers would come soon enough.

Pam had taken the squirmy little man from Rose and ordained him a place between her cheeks. He'd gone from swimming in a valley of cleavage to spelunking in a much more dangerous crevasse. His screams and pleas fell on deaf ears as Pam stood up to nestle him deep in her rear. Whether they simply couldn't hear him or thought it was an act, he couldn't say. Whatever the reason, there was nothing to save him from being buried in ass. The weight of Pam's toned cheeks pressing down on him as she returned to her seat was insurmountable and excruciating. A layer of sweat had begun to form from the outside heat, and there was nothing to grab onto to save himself. His struggles and thrashing only further spurred Pam on as she ground her ass back and forth. It was something she'd never do with Chad, not unless he asked, but it was almost euphoric in its own way.

Victoria watched the display unfolding before her with uneasy interest. The rest of her table was freely indulging in acts she'd consider abuse anywhere else. Affected by the pressure, the atmosphere, and the alcohol, she slowly found herself curious. Her relationship with Stewart had been tame, bordering on platonic, but she'd have been lying if she said she hadn't had thoughts and urges. Most of the time, they were fleeting, but they were there all the same. Thoughts of using her little boyfriend as a tool for her amusement, punishing the pervert he'd once been in a bit of roleplay, often came to mind. The suppressed rush of power that washed over her whenever he'd slipped or fell into a more compromising spot was something she often ignored. However, this place seemed perfect to act on instincts she'd otherwise stow away.

The sight of Heather practically fondling herself with one of the dancers and Tracy and Pam having their own fun chipped away at her resolve. Morals otherwise steadfast began to waiver in the face of it and the encouragement from her grandmother. These men were here for their entertainment, right? It was what they'd signed up for when they clocked in. What would it hurt to have a little fun at their expense? Besides, she was confident she could do it without harming one of them. As a bonus, it might give her the push and confidence she needed to take the next step with Stewart. Surely, they'd both be happier if things could somehow become more intimate and physical between them.

“Victoria, hon, relax,” Rose said, breaking through Victoria's musings, “I can see it on your face, dear. You're curious, and that's perfectly fine. Go ahead, let yourself go.”

Victoria frowned and looked down at the table, “I don't want to hurt anyone, gran. These guys are fragile.”

“These little guys are here to do a job,” Rose corrected her, “They're here to entertain us. It's why they come to work. You don't actually think they'd volunteer for something like this unless they enjoyed it, do you?”

“I guess you've got a point,” Victoria shrugged, “They wouldn't do this unless they wanted to, right?”

“Exactly,” Rose beamed at her, putting her hand on her shoulder, “They're here because they want to be. Trust me, dear, I've been with plenty of little men who crave this sort of treatment. Trust me; you’ll make their dreams a reality, Victoria.”

A final word of encouragement from Rose was all it took. She spotted one of the dancers approaching their table and reached down to seize him for herself. His little body writhing and struggling in her grip sent conflicting shivers down her spine. One set was born from pity, but a distant echo of excitement and power caused the second. His life was in her hands, and she could do whatever she wanted. There were no consequences here, meaning Victoria was free to play. Despite the bundle of nerves within her, she made herself relax and think. Heather's display had her yearning for something more, but was she willing to do something so intimate with a stranger?

Stewart and Henry had managed to avoid the plethora of dancing feet near the table where Joey was being toyed with. The Bachelorette party was in full swing, and both men could see that all the women were having their fun. Whether they didn't care about the dangers they were posing or thought it was all in innocent fun, they couldn't say. However, the true gravity of the situation made the sight more harrowing than before. The men they held didn't have a say in what was happening, and they were little more than victims of a corrupt establishment. The club's energy seeped in and infected the women they thought they knew. It gave them pause for the briefest moment, but it was at that moment that Victoria plucked Henry from the ground. He desperately cried out for help, but Stewart was powerless to save him. He could only watch as Victoria brought him up to her face.

"Calm down, little guy," Victoria whispered to Henry, unaware that a friend of her father's was about to become her toy, "I don't want you to hurt yourself. If you want to move around that much, let's get you somewhere that'll do us both some good, okay?"

Stewart looked on with a tinge of envy as Victoria moved Henry between her legs. She kept him outside of her jeans, but a part of him desperately wished to trade places with him. Despite the imminent dangers of everything, Stewart had longed to be that close to Victoria for some time now. His jealousy and wants would have to wait. Stewart pushed his feelings aside to figure out how to save Joey and now Henry. The other women seemed occupied with their playmates, and that meant he had something of an opportunity to get around. Henry was with Victoria, and Stewart hoped her goodwill would keep his new friend safer than Joey. Joey's predicament was far more severe than Henry's, and the brave man was their original objective. With that in mind, Stewart tried to make his way around to Heather's chair.

Victoria shuddered as she felt the heat through her jeans. She held her hand and her little charge flush against the seam of her crotch. The material of her pants was thinner than actual denim. It meant she could feel his every move as he bucked and struggled against the heat. The heat built into a raging white fire within her as she applied more pressure to her little man. Her legs closed together, and she began to squeeze her thighs together. The added pressure seemed to spur the little man on, and it sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. Part of her wanted to whisk him away to somewhere more private to further their fun, but she held onto her urges for now. As enticing as that idea was, it left a bitter taste in her mouth as she thought about Stewart. This would have to suffice for the time being.

Henry's world was turned on its head after Victoria whispered to him. Her assurance meant nothing to him as he was held between her legs. His face smashed against the faux-denim material of her jeans; he was met with an uncomfortable set of feelings. The first was the roughness and coarseness of the fabric itself, and the second was the blistering heat radiating from her nethers. Henry could do little more than struggle fruitlessly as she dragged his body up and down along the outline of her flower. There was no breaking her grip, no freedom in sight, and he was trapped at her mercy. Victoria might have been the gentlest of the group, but the pressure crushing his back left him on the verge of tears. It was a painful reminder of just how fragile he was now and just how easy it would be to snap him in half.

The situation took another dastardly turn as her legs crashed together. Her hand hadn't left his back, or her crotch for that matter, but now there was the added pressure of asphyxiation. Soft as her thighs undoubtedly were, they left him with little to no oxygen. His lungs burned as his body ached, and he begged for a reprieve. At first, his struggles doubled in the face of the terror before him, but they quickly died down as his air supply began to dwindle. It was glaringly apparent that her concern for his well being had gone out the window as things escalated. Alone and at the mercy of a titan consumed by lust, Henry could only wait for some sort of reprieve. Whether it be blacking out or Victoria spreading those glorious thighs, there was nothing he could do. He gasped as her thighs parted for a brief moment, but he groaned as they crashed back together, and the cycle began anew. It was a hell unlike anything he'd ever imagined as Victoria continued to use him.

Rose sat back and watched as Victoria finally let herself go. It wasn't the most daring display she'd ever seen, but it was a step for her more modest granddaughter. Victoria closed her eyes as she held the little dancer between her legs and let the euphoria wash over her. To an extent, Rose could understand Victoria's mild apprehension. Stewart was special to her, and Rose knew Victoria hoped to save the real fireworks for him. This was little more than a taste of things to come, a toe in the water for Victoria to give her the confidence to move forward with her little boyfriend. Even so, seeing her relaxing for the first time tonight was good. Her eyes fell to the floor, and she found her newest plaything. A young masked man raced around the table, practically begging to be taken. She was more than happy to oblige.

Stewart hadn't made it far before an all too familiar hand came rocketing towards him. Rose scooped him up, the very woman he'd already spent too much invasive time with. He whimpered as her fingers coiled around him. This wasn't going according to plan, not that they'd had much of one to begin with. From rescuers to toys, he and Henry were quickly reduced to nothing in minutes. He'd already seen Rose toy with another dancer and dreaded what fate awaited him here. The guise of familiarity was gone, thanks to the masks, and there would be no mercy for the stranger she thought she held. He could only hope whatever she had planned wouldn't be too heinous and horrific.

Rose held her newest little man tightly in the palm of her hand. She was being firmer than she usually would with him, but this place was meant to push the entertainment. Her desires and ideas had continued to churn as she watched Pam and the others have their fun. As intoxicating as having a little man between her legs could be, she found herself leaning towards something different tonight. Pam's idea to use her previous playmate as a cushion sparked a curiosity inside her. The fact that she'd had Stewart lodged in her crack only a short while ago had her head abuzz with possibilities. Ordinarily, she wouldn't dare to act on such an urge with a partner, but these men may as well have been objects meant to be enjoyed. This little one was lucky to have a chance to be close to her.

"My, my, what do we have here?" Rose purred as she opened her hand and poked her mysterious playmate, "Aren't we excited? You should be, little one. You're going someplace. I don't usually let my dates go, but I'll make an exception for you. Let's see if you can make these uncomfortable stools a bit more bearable, shall we?"

Stewart's heart sank as he picked up on the veiled indication of exactly where Rose would put him. Her fingers coiled around him again as she stood up to introduce him to his new abode. A place that was familiar, as much as he hated it, and one he'd hoped never to see again. Part of him wanted to jump, but there was nowhere to go. Little more than a day ago, he'd been trapped and unwittingly crammed in the back or her panties, and now he was on a return trip. Previously, Rose hadn't known about him, but now she was knowingly subjecting him to his fate. He took a final look around the club, hoping to find some semblance of hope or help, but he was alone. The darkness that followed suite encased him as Rose submerged him in the confines of her panties.

Whereas his previous encounter had been happenstance and circumstantial, Stewart was plunged into the depths of Rose's ass by force this time. She wasn't gentle with his body, and she roughly shoved him deep between her cheeks. She'd taken extra care to ensure he was secure in her crack. A slight flex from her before she sat down caused the walls of flesh surrounding him to squeeze his diminutive form. Something was going to bruise from the force of such a simple act, but his problems were only beginning. When Rose took her seat, he realized just how awful his predicament was. The colossal pressure of Rose's toned backside created a seal around him that held him firmly in place. Helpless and hopeless were two words that sprang to mind to describe his new position.

The club wasn't overly warm, but the amount of bodies combined with the alcohol made the temperature more grueling than he would have liked. A slick sheen of sweat, minor as it was, meant he had no leverage to use. Stewart's attempts at climbing out and away from the brown eye lurking in the distance were quickly squashed. The stench was powerful, earthy, and heavy as he tried to regulate his breathing. The smell of an ass was something he'd never get used to, no matter how many times he was subjected to it. His world shook, and he was thrown to the side as Rose twisted in her seat. She was deliberately grinding her ass on the stool to further his suffering. It would never cease to amaze him how someone could be both benevolent and sadistic simultaneously. The simple illusion of being a stranger made all the difference in the world.

Stewart was tossed back and forth in his limited space. His face smashed against the wall of one cheek for a second, only to have his back thrown into the opposing one seconds later. He groaned as the cycle continued, and his torment yawned further. It was humiliating and degrading, but worse was the fact that his mouth was open on one particular twist. He'd hoped never to experience the taste of stale sweat again, yet that was precisely what was happening. He couldn't imagine things getting any worse than this, but he began to regret that thought seconds after it occurred. Things could always get worse, and the familiar groan from up above-spelled disaster for him. It could have been nothing, but he doubted his luck would allow such a reprieve. Stewart braced himself as best he could for the potential hurricane that sound signaled.

High above Stewart, Rose sat comfortably with a smile on her face. This was new to her, but it was surprisingly pleasant. The power trip was all too familiar, but feeling her little man squirming in her ass was different. She'd denied such requests from past dates, but now she was beginning to see the appeal. Every movement, twitch, and struggle sent waves of pleasure rolling through her. Grinding on her stool had caused the little dancer to struggle more, but his efforts were beginning to die down. A slight bubbling in her gut gave her a new idea. She'd ordinarily feel disgusted by it, but tonight wasn't an ordinary night. If her little playmate wouldn't cooperate, she could give him a reason to move.

The appetizers and meal from last night weren't settling well on her stomach. The gas pills she'd taken earlier had worn off, and she could let one slip through the noise of the club. It was doubtful that anyone would notice or hear her emission. She smirked to herself as she relaxed and prepared the ultimate humiliation for her guest. Her grinding came to a halt, and she subtly leaned to the side to let the gas bubble slip out. A heated hiss escaped her backside, but it was drowned out by the moans, hooting, and music surrounding them. It worked like a charm. Her little playmate began struggling and fighting with renewed vigor. Honestly, she didn't blame him. Yet, she felt no pity or remorse for her actions. These men had signed up for this, and surely she wasn't the first to attempt something like this with them.

Stewart could feel the tension rising around him. The muffled sounds of the club outside of his prison continued on, but there was a palpable sense of unease creeping in around him. Rose had suddenly stopped her movements, and the stillness was unsettling. It was frightening how long the strange silence seemed to stretch on. The noise from the outside faded as his heart beat louder and stronger in his chest. He could hear his blood pumping a million miles a minute. The bubbling and groaning noise came again, and he prayed it was an empty threat. Sadly, his fortune continued to wane as a foul and unfortunate series of events overtook him.

Rose's asshole flexed and expanded as a torrent of noxious air shot out and washed over him. The hissing sound may as well have been a deafening thunder to him, but the blanket of sulfuric fumes was the worst yet. Rose unleashed what was undoubtedly a tiny fart to her, and a tornado to him, upon his helpless form. Rotten eggs, vegetables, and fried foods made for a disgusting aroma that seeped into his nose and body. He gagged and thrashed like never before in hopes that maybe she'd pull him out. This was too much. He needed to get out of here, but Rose settled herself back onto the stool to trap him once again. Stewart kicked and beat whenever he could, but his struggles did nothing to disturb the sadistic giantess sitting atop him. He was trapped at her mercy, and it seemed she wouldn't show him any anytime soon. There had to be a way out, but he couldn't think in the face of the overwhelming stench surrounding him.