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Toy Soldier

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They said they needed it for stealth missions and the asset was the only one who could pull it off if things went wrong.

 

Brock was certain that was a load of crap and they were just letting some of the new science recruits have a bit of fun with the recently acquired Pym data.

 

Either way, extracting the asset this way was a strange new experience. The man was dressed in all black and the size of his index finger. He was maybe four inches tall. Intel said Pym could get even smaller, but the scientists hadn’t been able to manage that small without it resulting in death for living subjects.

 

“Damn, maybe turning you into Tinkerbelle wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” Brock said once they were inside his car. He looked in the rearview mirror at the house the asset had come from – not a shutter stirred nor was a peep heard. Usually the asset left bloody carnage in his wake that they struggled to clean up.

 

The guy was just standing in the palm of his hand as if he was an unusually detailed miniature toy soldier. He only weighed about that much like this.

 

“Get in,” Brock said, lifting an empty mason jar level with his outstretched palm. The asset calmly walked to the edge of his hand, and climbed into the jar. Brock couldn’t help but laugh as he tipped the jar upright, looking in at their prize weapon, four inches tall and trapped in a jar like a bug. He, as always, didn’t seem to give a shit and sat down.

 

They’d talked about making something better suited to transport him, but it wasn’t like the asset was used to any kind of luxury and the time could be spent on more important projects. Brock was glad. There was something satisfying seeing him like this, like he was just a rare bug some kid found in a field and scooped up to scare his mother with. 

 

“You finished early. We’ll have to wait a while yet.”

 

There wasn’t much point to talking to the guy unless you were giving him orders, but Brock liked to anyway. It was only polite.

 

He sat the jar in the passenger’s seat and drove just long and far enough way, to the designated point. They had an hour or so left to wait, which was around the time the stuff the scientists gave the asset would wear off and he’d resume his usual size.

 

“Might as well let you out,” Brock grumbled, fishing two fingers into the jar. He got the metal arm between his thumb and index finger, and yanked up. The asset didn’t make a peep as he was bodily lifted from the glass container and back into Brock’s palm, and just stared up at him, waiting for orders.

 

“Good job,” he said, patting the asset’s head with a finger and stifling a laugh. He was so tiny and frail like this, yet half an hour earlier he’d just killed an entire family this way. He’d been given a deadly toxin that could kill from skin contact alone. They’d tried giving him a needle for an injection that would work quicker, but even the smallest one made it look like he was wielding some kind of giant claymore.

 

“Take your boots off,” Brock said with a frown, noticing little dirty patches on his hand from the mud on the bottom of the boots. “Put them in the jar.”

 

The asset sat down and did as he was told. Brock stared at him the whole time.

 

It was strange. He knew what the others sometimes did with the asset, had even been offered him a couple times. He’d always turned it down because he simply preferred a more actively involved partner, and even if he told the asset to enjoy it, it wouldn’t be quite the same.

 

But like this, breakable and so tiny it was ridiculous, it made something in him heat up. He gently nudged at his now bare feet, even smaller than a doll’s.  Brock could break all the bones in them with one viciously hard squeeze. Normally the soldier was pliant as a doll, but now he was doll size, too. It made it harder to remember that he could probably kill him if he was at his normal size. Not without a tough fight, of course.

 

He let his finger trail up the asset’s body, coming to rest against his chest. Brock tried briefly to get the vest off, but it was too damn small.

 

“Take this off, too.”

 

The asset did. Efficiently and quickly, leaning away from the inquisitive fingers long enough to drop it into the jar too.

 

“Did I say to do that?”

 

Even so small, it was easy to see the flash of confusion and alarm on the tiny man’s face.

 

“Wait for my command next time.”

 

The soldier’s head jerked down and back up in confirmation. He eased back into indifference, letting the anxiety that Brock’s sharp question brought in fade away.

 

Brock could feel himself slowly growing hard as he let his finger glide along the asset’s chest and stomach, poking lightly at his tiny muscled arms. Brock had never played with dolls, but he remembered a Christmas spent with relatives, watching his cousin play with her Barbies and Ken dolls. The soldier was even smaller than them, but his physique made him think of those toys.

 

“Are you dickless too?” Brock wondered, though of course the asset wouldn’t know what that meant. Dumb bastard.

 

“No,” he continued, “I’ve heard too many stories about you. I want to see for myself now. The pants, underwear, lose all of that.”

 

As the soldier undressed with all the efficiency of a robot, Brock used his free hand and rubbed it against his hardening cock, still under his own layers of clothing.

 

“You’re smaller than I’ve heard.”

 

He didn’t laugh at his own joke and neither did the asset. Brock was now holding a naked four inch tall man with a metal arm in the palm of his hand and he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been so turned on. It was ridiculous, but also ridiculously hot for reasons he’d never be able, or even really want, to articulate.

 

“I could crush you under the heel of my boot like this,” Brock said as he brought his hand back up to explore the miniature body. Even no longer touching his dick, it was becoming uncomfortably hard.

 

“Maybe splat you with a fly swatter,” he went on, dragging his nail along the asset’s face, back into his thick dark hair. He stared hard at the asset and moved down to grab at his soft dick. For the first time in all of this touching, the soldier stirred.

 

“You like that? They turned you into that much of a slut?” Brock taunted. It was so soft against the tips of his fingers, yet so tiny he could barely feel it. Curious, he pinched at the soldier’s shoulder and hauled him up, letting him dangle from his fingers. He lifted him close to his lips, putting out his tongue and licking it against the miniscule dick. He could roll his tongue and fit the entire thing in just the loop at the tip of his tongue if he wanted.

 

“What else do you like?” He wondered, twisting his hand to turn the asset the other way round, exposing his tiny, plump ass.

 

“This?” He lashed out with his tongue, probing his cheeks apart and swiping at the tiny hole. The soldier shivered and Brock needed to touch himself right the fuck now.

 

He fumbled around with his pants one handed before dumping the naked soldier onto his thigh.

 

“Stay.”

 

Brock had his cock out in record time, squeezing the shaft, before hesitating. He didn’t want to waste this. Who knew when they’d next shrink him? He grabbed him again, not bothering with any kind of gentleness this time. He could feel him squirming slightly, but only the bottom of his calves and feet stuck out from his clenched fist.

 

He stroked himself while holding the asset in his fist for a few brief moments, but had to forcibly hold himself back.

 

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he said as he unclenched his fist. All of his normally masculine, deadly features were so different at this size. He was more like a pretty doll than any kind of assassin. He flipped him onto his front, and tried to rub his hard cock between his ass, but he was too big. He grunted as he imagined the science crew making him a bit bigger next time, maybe a foot or so, and then he could treat the soldier like a human fleshlight.

 

“You’re lucky I’m too fucking big for you. I’d destroy you,” Brock hissed, his hips jerking upwards as he spread the soldier’s legs as wide as they could go and rutted up between them, “And I’d love it.”

 

The tiny soldier was literally riding his dick. He kept a finger pressed against his back for balance, but was otherwise preoccupied with his own cock. Brock’s head fell back against the car seat and he groaned – it was so fucking hot seeing him like this, but he was desperate to wrap his hands all the way around his cock and jerk off properly. He wanted to be inside the soldier, his ass, his mouth, something, and was regretting he’d never taken up on the offers before.

 

He grabbed him with his fist again, too desperate to get off to care about the asset’s comfort or wellbeing. With the same hand, he brought it close to his cock and stretched his fingers out, getting a tight hold while keeping the asset’s entire tiny body pressed up against his cock.

 

Brock had gotten off with partners watching before. Sometimes they’d lend a hand. But he’d never gotten himself off by using a person’s entire body.

 

“Fuck,” he growled. He started slow, rubbing up and down, hyper aware of all the asset’s tiny movements. He could feel his metal arm as it was forcibly tugged back and forth over his cock, could feel the tiny hands reach out in desperation and confusion before going limp again because he had no new orders, could feel the warm, soft bump of his ass.

 

Brock closed his eyes and imagined impaling the asset on his cock like this. He’d be so tight, ruined forever, his hole never going back to normal after having Brock inside him.

 

Unable to control himself anymore, he could only increase pressure and speed in a desperate bid to come. He could feel the asset struggling against his hand and cock the whole time.

 

Brock didn’t say a word when he came, but in a flash of brilliance, managed to pull off himself fast enough to position the asset right at the head of his cock. He was drenched from tip to toe in his come.

 

“Was it good for you?” Brock asked, breathless. The asset just dangled there and tried to regain his breath. He must’ve been squeezing him harder than he thought, because he could see large bruises all around one side, and what was visible of his face under the come was flushed and sweaty.

 

He was going to catch hell for this. But it was so goddamn worth it.