The young goatherd trilled a happy song as he followed his charges out of the village toward the spring and summer pastures up the mountain. There are still patches of snow here and there, but as soon as the boy saw that winter was truly over, his feet had literally begun to itch and he knew it was time. He twirled his crook in time to his song, watching Lead Goat and thinking how happy he was to be alive, and young, and free, on such a beautiful day.
This was his third year as the goatherd. When he had heard that the old goatman had come down from the mountain for the last time and was looking for someone young to replace him, the boy had found a hundred reasons to be near the goat’s winter stable, helping with feeding and cleaning.
The goatman understood—the boy was an orphan, and while the village wouldn’t turn him away and he would always have food and shelter, he was not exactly welcome. Soon, he would be in the same position, but he knew that he could not last another year following the goats. He showed the boy how to check the goats from horntips to hooves, how to tell each goat apart by markings and personality, and about how important Lead Goat was. Finally, he gave the boy his crook without a word, and left the goats to his keeping, trying to hide his tears.
The boy was never happier than when he was alone on the mountain, drinking warm, fresh milk and cold stream water, and eating whatever he could find or catch. The goats mostly took care of themselves, and Lead Goat was old and wise. The villagers were afraid of the mountain, but the boy loved it.
The goats led him steadily up, until they found themselves in a lush valley, where the grass was already thick on the ground, and there was no snow in sight. Lead Goat bleated and the others lowered their heads and began to graze. The boy smiled and watched them. There was no sound but the wind through the grass, the occasional bird, the dull clanking of Lead Goat’s bell, and the solemn munching of the goats, just as happy to leave the village as the boy.
The boy set a few snares around likely-looking holes, but was content for the moment to rest after his walk. He found a stone outcrop that was a perfect seat—a bowl shape with a slightly rounded back. He settled himself, and realized that he was finally alone. Blushing a little, he realized that his cock was already quite aware of that fact, thank you very much, and that it expected him to make good use of his privacy.
Despite being of an age where his cock was quite demanding, the boy found it very difficult to relieve himself when there were always, always people around during his winter stay in the village. Even staying close to the goats wasn’t safe. He has never had a lover—no one would ever leave him alone with their daughters, even if the girls would talk to him. He took a moment to savour his absolute isolation—the goats wouldn’t care. In fact, some of them were currently doing exactly that. Slowly, he pulled off his tunic and leggings, setting them in a neat pile beside himself, until he’s only wearing his soft boots. Sprawling naked in the soft spring sun, the rock warm beneath him, he leisurely touches himself. It feels like his balls are holding an entire winter’s worth of seed, though he knows it isn’t true. It isn’t long before he cums on his stone seat, and he prepares to have a little nap, mindful always of the sound of Lead Goat’s bell, and any other signs of alarm from the goats.
In his quiet state, it takes him a moment to realize that something is different. The first thing he notices is that his legs are being forced apart by something. At first he thinks it’s some sort of pole, but it’s made of soft flesh. As he squirms, trying to figure out what is going on, he realizes that his whole seat is no longer stone, but…he’s sitting in a giant lap!
The giant looked down at him over his big black and green beard. “Humans have gotten smaller,” he remarked, black eyes crinkling in a smile. His hands came up to hold the goatherd’s waist so he wouldn’t fall.
The boy’s eyes and mouth widened in a silent scream and he would have fallen if not for the hands. “Please don’t eat me!” he squeaked.
“I will not eat you.” the giant chuckled, the laugh rumbling. His speech was a little unusual, older and simpler.
“You promise?” the boy asked, trying to sound as brave as he could. He suddenly realized that he’s straddling an erection the size of his calf, and that he had, presumably, just cum on the giant holding him. Embarrassment overtook fear as his main emotion, and he grabbed for his clothes. He remembered the shame of being caught touching himself for the first time, and the beating that followed.
The giant put him down gently, shifting to a kneeling position. “I promise. I do not eat humans, or anything that talks.”
The boy gazed up, quickly pulling his clothes on. “…what about goats?” he asked, reaching for the small sling he keeps to drive off predators. He heard the clank of Lead Goat’s bell as the goat noticed that their human was distressed. The goat bleated and gave the giant a disapproving look.
“They talk too.” the giant offered his big hand to Lead Goat, “She’s making sure you are safe.”
The boy watched as the goat sniffed the hand, bleats again, and wandered back to the others. He nods, satisfied. He stood, mouth slightly open, a little frown on his face as he tried to think of what to say next.
The giant stone-man stands. “Thank you for waking me. I have slept for a long time.” he smiled, towering over the little goatherd.
The boy nodded again, still gazing up in awe. “I was, ah, sitting on you?”
“More than sitting, yes?” he smiled.
The boy blushed again, eyes filling with tears, fists clenched. He would never have touched himself again after that, if the old goatman hadn’t noticed his… discomfort one day and taken him aside to explain.
“Are you unhappy?” the giant frowned, not understanding why the boy was embarrassed “It is natural. All animals enjoy.”
“We aren’t animals.” the boy whispered, turning to glance at the goats, repeating what he had been told when he was caught. “…do you?” he asked, shyly.
“When I am awake.” he smiled. “I like to.” he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock.
The boy watched, his eyes wide again. He was completely surprised that this… male… would touch himself so openly… and by the size. Part of him longed to touch it, wrap his hands around it…
The giant, picking up on the boy’s interest, lazily stroked himself. His foreskin retreated as he hardens further, revealing the reddened head that resembles smooth quartz.
The boy nibbles his lip, and stared with open longing at the enormous cock, clearly holding himself back.
The giant stopped touching himself, and held his hand out for the boy, inviting him closer.
The boy shook his head wildly, wide-eyed, but found himself stepping closer. He reached the hand first, and lightly explored it. The skin is dark and almost leathery, each finger easily as large as his own cock. On a moment of whimsy, he leans back against the palm, which covers most of his torso, laughing softly.
The giant smiled happily, and ran his fingertips over the boy’s chest and belly, surprisingly gently. He let the little human take his time.
The boy laughed again, enjoying the feeling. Quickly, before he can doubt himself, he danced out of the hand and reaches the giant’s cock. Wrapping his hands around the base, his fingers just touch. He noticed that the organ is smoother than his, without veins or loose skin, almost more the suggestion of a penis on a statue than a real one. It felt as smooth as a stone from a stream, but hot as blood.
With a pleased groan, the giant put his hands on the boy’s back, stroking the length of his body. He pulled the boy closer.
The boy smiled, more or less sitting in one palm as his hands continued exploring. The erection gently tapered, flaring out into a broad flat head with a small hole. He frowned-- he doesn’t like touching himself with dry hands, but spitting on them seems… wrong. Not to mention insufficient.
With a knowing nod, the giant completely surprised the boy by bending and taking his own cock in his mouth almost half way to the base. He pulled his mouth back, leaving his cock pleasantly damp like a wet stone.
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