Sprisk In Hand

With the whole Covid-19 thing going on I haven't been nearly as productive as I'd like to have been. amongst the little work I've been able to do on other projects and commissions I did manage to get this little tease out for a new friend, Sprisk, who is rather fun to mess with.

Poor little dragon finds himself being manhandled by a much larger dragon. His clothes don't seem like they're going to survive the experience.

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Sprisk In Hand

By Dragonien

“This isn’t fair!” the little blue dragon called up towards his tormentor.

The declaration just brought a grin to the other dragon’s muzzle, lips pulling back to show off the sharp fangs lining his jawline. His fist THUMPED down onto the desktop only a few inches away from Sprisk, red fingers each as thick as a telephone pole to the smaller dragon curled into a fist that could easily have engulfed Sprisk’s entire body. The impact sent a shudder through the desktop strong enough to make Sprisk stumble; only a quick pair of backpedaling steps keeping him from falling on his ass. 

“Do something about it.” Dragonien replied casually, the red dragon’s words laced with playful challenge. “Make me stop.”

“I can’t and you know it!” Sprisk yelled back up. 

Sprisk tried to mask his nerves with defiance and anger but the way his tail lashed about behind him clearly gave away how flustered he was. Not to mention that, at his size, even his angriest and most fearsome snarl would be little more than an adorable yapping to Dragonien at his current size. 

Slowly Dragonien’s fist uncurled and his hand raised up to balance on his index and middle finger; ‘standing’ atop the two digits in mimicry of a biped. Coyly, Dragonien casually ‘walked’ his fingers forward one in front of the other towards Sprisk until the digits, each more than half as long as Sprisk was tall, stood directly in front of him. Sprisk stared up at the looming digit and the broader appendage they were attached too. Were he a normal size the nervous swallow he made would have been easily audible to the whole room.

“N-now see here… You can’t ju-“ Sprisk started to protest.

Unfortunately, before he was able to finish his sentence, Dragonien lifted his hand up and let his index finger casually THUMP against Sprisk’s torso. The poke would have been little more than an annoyance to any other person, but at Sprisk’s currently diminished, six-inch-tall self, the impact was like being tackled by a linebacker. The wind burst from his lungs in a sharp gasp and he felt the world rush past him was he was knocked clean off his feet, landing with a thump on his plump backside. Silently thankful for the padding that his pert posterior gave him, Sprisk reached down to brace against the desktop to push himself up to his feet and resume his protests. He didn’t get the chance.

Sprisk looked up just in time to see the sky turn read above him. His eyes went wide and he tried to scramble backwards but at his diminutive size he barely made it a quarter of an inch before it was too late. The impact of Dragonien’s hand slapping down on top of the desk was strong enough the entire piece of furniture rattled; sending a chorus of jingles and clinking of various other objects on the desk clattering together from the tremor. The impact nearly dented the pressed wood of the desk and certainly could have flattened Sprisk with about as much ease as someone flattening a roll of tin foil. Thankfully for him, Dragonien had angled his hand just enough that his fingers landed around Sprisk and he kept his palm just elevated enough to keep the full weight of the impact from landing atop him. For all of his teasing, rough play, and shows of force and dominance, Dragonien was surprisingly careful about not actually causing real harm to Sprisk. Not that it made his current situation any more comfortable.

Fingers nearly thick around as his own waist framed Sprisk to either side. He had just barely enough room between the digits for his head and the upper portion of his torso to stick out, though both of his arms were pinned beneath the dragon’s fingers. Though the palm had been raised to keep the slap from harming Sprisk, now that it was in place it casually pressed itself back down to compress the dragon firmly into the desk top. Sprisk could feel the heated, malleable flesh of Dragonien’s surprisingly soft palm squashing down atop him; the skin conforming slightly to the shape of his body before it hit the layer of muscle underneath and began conforming him to its shapes instead. The weight bore down on him hard enough that it compressed his rib cage around his lungs; not enough to suffocate him but definitely making anything short of quick, shallow inhales a challenge. 

“Y-you could’ve crushed m-RK” Sprisk started to protest, only to have the two digits around his head squeeze together around his head. 

Dragonien suddenly leaned forward, momentarily putting more of his weight on the arm holding Sprisk down and forcing the air from Sprisk’s lungs again. By the time his hand let up enough the little blue drake could breathe freely again he found his sky filled with the toothy, billboard-sized face of Dragonien. His breath, smelling faintly of mint after a recent tooth-brushing, blew over Sprisk like hot gust of wind strong enough to rustle the mantle of fur around his head and shoulders. 

“I would never crush you, little sapphire…” Dragonien cooed down towards his captive, letting his words come out as a full-throated growl that seemed to vibrate the ‘ground’ beneath Sprisk. “You’re too precious to crush. Play with? That’s a different story…”

The dragon’s fingers relaxed their clenching grip around Sprisk’s head and instead retreated downwards. Soon Sprisk was exposed from the waist up, though his arms were still held spread to either direction and pinned beneath Dragonien’s now-spread digits. Held in place, Sprisk could do little but watch as Dragonien’s other hand reached down towards him and obscured his view of Dragonien’s face. A claw-tip nearly as long as Sprisk’s forearm gently bumped against his waistline, brushing momentarily around Sprisk’s inner thigh in a way that sent a fresh blush surging through Sprisk’s cheeks. Then it finally seemed to find what it was looking for, catching underneath the hem of Sprisk’s shirt and sliding along his bare belly beneath instead. Abruptly the claw-tip pulled the shirt taunt and the sound of shredding fabric filled the air as Dragonien effortlessly sliced Sprisk’s shirt open along the front. With the remnant of cloth stuck to the sharpened tip of his claw, Dragonien casually pulled it away from the now bare-chested dragon. 

“I think you’re prettier this way…” Dragonien murmured softly, speaking more to himself than to his little captive. 

Though, with their size difference, even a whisper from Dragonien would be like a rumble of thunder to the toy-sized drake below. That didn’t make the words any more embarrassing for Sprisk; the blue dragon silently glad that none of his other friends were around to see his predicament… or his flustered reaction to it. Dragonien’s next words didn’t help the matter any and had him gulping nervously all over again.

“Now how about we do the pants next. And maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you try to take off mine afterwards…”