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The log for another exceedingly GRAPHIC RP concerning the wanton crushing of a victim by a sadistic and oddly contemporary raptor. This was done between Ahastar and myself, and many thanks to him for letting me post it here!
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Dras' apartment is a mess by any standards. Strewn with boxes, cables and glowing data pads, the small living space is made to seem even smaller, despite its relative lack of furnishings. An unmade bed slouches in one corner, a sofa sags against the wall, half buried under books and electrical components, and a broad, cluttered desk with a sleek computer terminal stands below the only apparent window, through which the warm, early afternoon sun beams complacently, lighting up streaks of dust in the air. Three doors lead out of the main room: one to the bathroom, one to a small kitchen area and one to the outside world, and it is through this last one that Dras enters after a prolonged clanging of footsteps up a metal stairwell.
The tall reptilian form that steps through the doorway is lithe and athletic, even for a raptor, and it all but exudes power and confidence with its every movement. Dras is largely anthropomorphic in shape, his posture upright and his spine curved, but his long-snouted head, his thick, reptilian tail, his musculature, and his powerful digitigrade legs are all decidedly raptorian in shape and porportion. He stands at an easy six feet tall, but the crest of dark blue feathers that sprouts from his crown and runs down the back of his neck boosts his total height by another foot. What parts of his bare hide are visible gleam a pale, clear azure; smooth, glossy scales coating his sleek body from head to toe, but these are largely obscured by the cursory items of clothing he wears: a black, sleeveless open-fronted leather jacket, loose brown trousers and a pair of sturdy black boots.
Dras swings the door shut with his tail and crosses the room, tossing a newly-bought reel of talon wrap and a silvery packet of something edible-looking onto the sofa on his way through to the kitchen. He emerges moments later carrying a plastic tupperware box and a stained metal cup of water, the latter of which he sets down on the desk top, clearing a space amongst the accumulated gadgetry there, while the former he carries with him to his desk chair, into which he collapses with a hissing huff of breath. One long, careless raptor-sized yawn and several gulps of water later, he turns his attention to the box sitting on his lap. It is about thirty by twenty centimetres, and twenty centimetres deep, and several small holes have been stabbed into the soft plastic lid, through which movement can be faintly seen in the dim interior.
"Had a good morning, bud?" Dras says to the box, reaching to flick a switch on the computer terminal, which blinks on. "Sorry about last night; I guess I was just in one of those moods. Don't worry - today's gonna be less painful." Carefully he prises open the corner of the lid and creeps his clawed scaly hand inside. For a moment there is silence as Dras feels around, then suddenly a muted hissing spits out and a flailing of bare scaly limbs against against plastic as the box shakes about on his lap. Dras only smirks though, and pulls the lid off completely, taking out his hand with a second raptor, tiny, furious and writhing, clamped in his fist.
*
The snow white raptor is still dealing with the after effects of his by now week old shrinking session, noticeable in brief stints of feeling slightly dizzy combined with still sound exhaustion that happens to grab him whenever he tries to oppose his most recent archenemy: the Tupperware box. It proves to be a formidable opponent! The small breathing holes Dras drilled into the walls of the plastic are too far away from one another to help much with climbing, and even if the half demon managed to reach the top of the box, there was little doubt that it is nigh impossible for someone of his vastly reduced strength to flip that lid off of said box from the inside.
It had been only a week ever since Ahastar found himself both in the… gentle hospitality of the azure-scaled raptor and at a size more commonly contributed to mice than raptors. Before then, the half demon was simply going by as a show street fighter in one of the city’s more notorious nightclubs, doing less-than-faked battles with other mercenaries of this city’s crude desire for bloodthirsty entertainment. His half-dmonic heritage and the astonishing physical qualities it gifted him with certainly made him a prime candidate for any fight he was drawn into, staged or not, especially since he usually kept the knowledge of this built-in-doping system quite to himself. Both show hosts and opponents didn’t tend to find it funny to be beaten before the battles even started. Then, one successful night of rich profits later, Ahastar made it out of the back door of the shag, briefly got a glimpse upon deep, azure scales and something that looked like an oversized pistol. The next thing the half demon knew was a strong taste of flipping electricity, and dancing around on the wet floor. When he opened his eyes again, he did it right next to an engraved plastic sign stating “only wash by hand” in suspiciously large letters.
Until that day, Ahastar never really noticed Dras much. The half demon thinks that he saw the fresh-and-young male raptor in the nightclub once or twice, but usually out of the corner of his eye while slicing and dicing up yet another opponent. At his first day trying to climb these plastic walls, Ahastar still assumed that Dras might probably be a raptor that lost a fuckload of money betting against him, then finding out about his scammy ways of fighting. Yet one day and one military marching style crush-trampling session into a few hardwood plates later, the half demon was very sure that the truth was something worse: This raptor simply picked him up for his often ring-proven durability and maybe good looks, simply to sate his rather… stomp-centered urges! Which is precisely the reason why Ahastar is *anything* but happy to see his mountain-sized host re-arriving and reaching for him! The sick feeling in the half demon’s gut does not come from his little plastic world starting to tumble madly, but because of the imagination about what might probably come next. No wonder then that the half demon feistily claws, bites, scratches, tailslaps and slashes all over Dras’ grasping fingers, hissing out a stern “Let go! LET GO!” in a funny feepsy high pitched voice provided by 1mm long vocal cords.
*
"Don't know what YOU'RE so worked up about," Dras says, dangling Ahastar by the tail and leaning back in his desk chair. "Like you really thought you'd get away with that doped-up shit for ever - you always knew someone would figure you out and get pissed; well now it's happened, so just shut the hell up and take it. This is payback, sure, but pretty good payback, all things considered." He hefts a powerful leg to put his foot on the desk. "These are fifteen thousand dollar-an-hour paws you get to see close up; you oughta be thanking me, not squealing like a rat." He is silent for a moment, jaw lopsided in disdain as his deep yellow eyes roam over the shrunken body of his victim, then he snorts and tosses Ahastar to the grilled metal floor under his desk. The tiny raptor lands with a clang and Dras plants a huge, heavy boot over his back, squeezing out his breath between the tough rubber sole and the unforgiving metal floor.
Ignoring his victim's gasping cries, the big raptor turns his attention to the computer terminal, picking up the keyboard and slouching back in his chair with it as he eyes the display. Under the desk, he idly clicks open the fastenings of his right boot with his tail tip, then prises it off against the leg of the desk. The impressive leather footwear clumps down alongside Ahastar's protruding head, its empty inside radiating heat, and Dras sets his bootless talon down upon it, still wrapped from ball to heel in the long strips of bandage that the raptor wears inside his boots for padding. There is a clicking from above as keys are pressed, and a mild creaking from the chair as its occupent pushes back a little, then the big talon lifts and Dras slowly, absent-mindedly unwinds the wraps, finally stretching out his bare foot in all its sleek, azure-scaled glory and splaying his three toes: two long outer digits and a short, sturdy sickle toe. There is a yawn from above and Dras's undeniably handsome talon moves inward to touch and tread on Ahastar's tiny head. The sickle toe curls and pulls to one side, and at the same time the huge heavy boot lifts from the smaller raptor's back as Dras creeps his bootless talon over Ahastar and finally engulfs tiny reptile under his hot, black sole pads, squeezing firmly.
More keyboard clicking, and the seated raptor idly strokes and rolls Ahastar under his bare talon, turning the stuggling raptor onto his back and exploring the diminutive contours of the tiny body while he works at the computer. Hot, smooth sole scales slide and rasp over Ahastar's shrunken hide, thick pads grip and stretch him, and the vast weight of the lounging reptile's sturdy digitigrade foot pins and stretches him out, squeezing the pattern of the metal floor into his tiny body.
*
Ahastar was just about to spit out as much of Dras’ uncaring forepaw as he could, wanting to ask the towering azure raptor why the hell he did this and why the hell exactly with him, but… it seems the blue male gladly explains on his own – really useful, too, because Ahastar took that much of his tormentor’s firm scale-flesh into his mouth that he is struggling with not slipping into a jawlock. Fortunately though, Dras helps his little recipient of rough revenge with that problem, too. One, two powerful swings of a forearm later, the half demon flies through the air, slams into the stern metal floor of the computer desk after a quick seven story drop and badly rattles and flips over the deep-profiled steel surface: *Clang, Batsch, Thump!*
Yet before the groaning raptor can do as much as lift himself up on his shivering, bruised and drained hands and knees, he suddenly finds himself beneath a first blurry, then constantly shrinking, but solidifying shadow reaching as far as a barn, then a house, then a hut… then there is nothing left but brutal, overwhelming, flattening and scale-squeezing pressure! “EEERRRRRRRFFFFFF!”, Ahastar violently proclaims with a sthrrrrping, drool-showering tongue even while his entire body except for a tiny portion of his neck and the majority of his snout finds itself brutally compressed beneath what feels like a sentient, rubber-clad garbage compactor! At once the half demon’s limbs give in and make him crumble down against the metal floor, which feels only marginally harder than the thick, rubber surface crushing him into that very steel. One brief, neck-muscle-straining shift of his snout finally tells the trampled down half demon precisely what he suspected, and crushes all hopes he had of probably not being picked up and degradingly shrunken by an apparently trampling-aficionado kind of raptor – clearly, Dras has quite sternly stomped a booted paw down on top of him.
Wouldn’t it be for the deep profile of these sprinter-ready pieces of paw-gear offering Ahastar’s vital organs some escaping-into space, the half demon would already be in quite a load of trouble now. Of course, trouble is what he will find no matter what, for the next thing the underfoot raptor gets to behold is Dras un-shackling, and then strapping off the boot from his second paw, leaving the rather monstrous construction of leather and rubber to drop down under the desk just barely away enough from the half demon to not shatter any parts of his beloved skeleton. And then… Ahastar first gets to stare at, and then squeeze, press and kiss his little snow scaled snout deep and hard into the rough, scaled underside of Dras’ towering sickle toe! “Gnnnrrrrghhhhh!”, the half demon drools into it, the rest of his body lifting up into the air together with Dras’ other, still booted paw, only held back to peeling-off-distance by the snuffocating sickle digit clackingly, clickingly oppressing him.
Contrary to various filthy mammals dwelling in the city outskirts, reptiles do not sweat. Yet these boots certainly leave behind raptor paws severely heated up – heat, really something a reptile never could have enough of, leaving many raptors to dress their legs and lower body with thick leather to keep these parts of them well warmed and ready to rush, while keeping their upper frame bare and scaled to make sure their heat household remained well regulated. And sure enough… once that second paw comes bare, slamming down on top of Ahastar’s shivering, jolting, thrashing non-head body, the half demon lacks that “household” – but neither the heat of padding nor the heat of friction induced by rough, tough, grinding raptor sole scales dragging him either over or into the metal underfloor while he all but mates with pitch black pads or worn steel!
*
The heavy, hot weight of Dras' toes and ball utterly overpower Ahastar, absorbing the raptor's most desperate struggling and giving only the smallest hint of a toe flex in return. The long, powerful toes clutch and curl around their victim, lifting him onto the hot leather of the empty boot to continue their idle humiliating caress while the big raptor works at his computer. After perhaps fifteen minutes of complacent toying, a sharp, rhythmic buzzing sounds from somewhere above the desk, and the firm blue toes splay, squeezing down over Ahastar as their owner straightens up in his chair.
Dras reaches for the headset and inserts its receiver into his earhole, then says aloud, "Hello?" A momentary pause, then the raptor slumps in his chair, pushing back lazily in a casual act that squashes Ahastar painfully into the still-hot leather and the bed of talon wrapping. "Not too bad, bro. What's up? ..." For the next few minutes, the abusive reptilian conducts his conversation, absent-mindedly dominating Ahastar under his padded sole. The captive half-demon is rolled and folded, squeezed and squashed, gripped and pressed against the back board of the desk, and on one occasion, clamped between two toes and hauled up into daylight as Dras leans back in his chair and stacks his feet on the desk - one boot on, one off. Eventually though, Ahastar is returned to the floor and Dras signs off with an ominous, "See ya in a sec..."
"Change of plan, bud," the azure raptor says, reaching down to grab Ahastar and pull the weakly struggling half-demon from under his padded toes. "I'm going out, so you're going back in here." And he reaches for the plastic box, then hesitates, turning a chilling, broad raptor smile upon the once again tail-dangling half-demon. "Actually you can come too. You know the guys I'm gonna meet - it'll be fun." He snorts in amusement at Ahastar's alarmed perplexment, and scoots his chair back a little, then hauls up his bare talon and crosses his ankle over the knee of his other leg. "This is why I get through so much talon wrap," he says conversationally as he presses Ahastar's underside to the walking section of his big digitigrade foot and holds the suddenly-squirming raptor there, reaching down for the pile of bandages under the desk. Taking great care to fit Ahastar's tiny body to the contours of his firmly-padded sole, Dras begins to carefully wind the bandages around his talon again, binding Ahastar's torso and arms, then his legs and tail, then finally his screaming head to the potent, shapely underside of his impressive raptor foot. When he is done, Ahastar is a wriggling lump across the centre of Dras' walking section, and the big raptor snickers at the sight, gently stroking a padded finger against the terrified half-demon and flexing his long clawed toes.
"Yell while you can," he says, uncrossing his leg and stretching it out. "I don't reckon anyone's gonna be able to hear you when you're stuffed right down in here..." and he picks up his empty boot and carefully slides his wrapped talon into it, pulling the sturdy black appendage tightly on and fastening the catches. Ahastar is indeed muffled out completely, but the pleasantly firm lump beneath his ball pad remains firm and wriggling, and Dras smirks to himself as he steps down. The big raptor allows a moment of suspenseful motionless for his little victim, then he slowly stands up.
*
Ahastar struggles for his very life against that constantly flooding, overpowering wave of blue scales and black pads, but no matter how much the desperate half demon manages to get his gasping head free, or succeeds in wedging an arm untrampled or even once gets it together to sling his own spaded tail around another razor sharp claw of Dras overpoweringly down-trampling sicklefoot to attempt and pull himself out… that godsdamned raptor paw and its various digits always finds Ahastar again and always pervert his half insane, half-desperate struggles to serve their own desires, forcing the so unbearably toyed with demon into yet another awful position of humiliation or agony!
“Glllrrrrghhhh!” After a few minutes of constant, cell-squashing pressure simply against the desk underfloor, Dras’ talons suddenly latch on to the half demon between them and firmly slam him face first into the azure’s strapped off boot completely with the equally well heated scale wrapping still on top of it, cramming Ahastar’s scream-opened muzzle straight into the mess and dragging him up and down through there, filling his fine predatory taste buds either with the flavor of tough leather, well worn rubber of floppy wrap. The half demon doesn’t even manage to spit all of that mess back out, when he abruptly finds himself skull-slammed straight against the underside of the desk plate itself, apparently coming from Dras comfortably leaning back in his chair and propping up his legs for counterbalance, nearly cracking Ahastar’s cranium in the process! The half demon is just about to orally determine the chemical construction of Dras apartment wall, courtesy of a ship-sized sicklefoot squeezing the shrunken raptor against it with crushing intent, not leaving a single white scale free from suppressive pads and scales, when suddenly Ahastar doesn’t appear to be the sole center of Dras attention any more. Apparently, the young blue beast just got a phone call that swiftly degraded the half demon’s importance from “stylish doormat ready for use” to “idle toe toy that stabilizes your phone’s connection the stronger you squeeze it”.
Ahastar wraps and writhes over, under and between Dras’ toes, the massive raptor flipping first his two broad sprinter paws on top of the desk with a loud and heavy *FLOMMPP*, and then beginning to drag his groaning, crunching, pleading victim through his three toes and against the flank of his still booted paw, only to grindingly shove the heel of his bare one over the panicking, chaotic ball of limbs, scales and begging words to begin the game anew at the other end. Ahastar doesn’t even manage to get the attention of a single one of Dras’ amber eyes while he chats into his headphone, constantly a grin on his scaly lips.
Finally, the cruel raptor grinder hangs up. He can’t even really see Ahastar all that much in between and under his two broad reaching, toe splaying sicklefeet when he finally deems his victim worthy of another gaze, so the towering azure beast simply grabs that tiny patch of white hanging limply out from in between his bare sicklecrotch, that piece of flesh proving to be the tail of a by now badly bruised and even ruffled worse ball of loose scales, feathers and dripping drool formerly known as a full sized raptor. Ahastar peers over at Dras with a facial expression that is 50% raw exhaustion and 50% unyielding hatred, both of them forming to 100% horror when suddenly the beast’s tupper-aiming hand halts its progress and a cruel, devious grin begins to spread over Dras’ fine lips, exposing teeth as sharp as his sadistic urges. “What… what do you… just get me back in that box, will you… WILL you?”
No, apparently he will not! Even with all of Ahastar’s muscles screaming for rest, the hysterical raptor fights Dras fingers and foot pad tooth, claw and scale the moment the mean deinonychus pretty much bitch-slaps his little victim straight against the up-turned sole of his bare paw! When the half demon feels the cool touch of fresh pad wrapping, he at first ceases his struggling, completely puzzled, then letting out an icy gasp of terror… before returning to struggle even harder! Dras’ snout so high above Ahastar’s by now pad-impressing, mufflingly groaning one is all but exploding into a fit of cruel laughter, especially when he gets to feel that tiny dinosaur disappear in the deep, dark, lightless void that is Dras’ still free boot. A few moments go by with Ahastar simply struggling and writhing in between black padded walking section and white foot wrap, not unlike a rasp-scaled version of a large worm… before loudly cracking, crunching, drooling, retching and shivering into Dras rising legs, the raptor’s padded sicklefoot overwhelmingly offering Ahastar an osmosis opportunity while the looming deinonychus rises, countless tons of pressure resting completely on top of the half demon’s hidden, helpless, unseen form.
*
"Oh fuck me, that's good," Dras sighs, lifting his shapely muzzle and swaying from side to side as he feels the initial splintering crunch of a victim breaking underfoot. "Not gonna be pissing ME off again, are you, you little runt?" He sneers, bearing his creamy white fangs to the messy apartment, then turns on his heel and strides out of the door. The familiar sensation of his tiny victim squeezed tightly to his sole sends shivers up the spine of the big raptor, and Dras breathes out a pleasures hiss, concentrating solely on the feel of the soft, wriggling lump crunching and crackling as he goes through the automatic motions of leaving his apartment: locking up, jogging down the metal steps to the ground floor, opening the gate and striding out onto the bustling street.
The city is alive with activity, late afternoon spelling the ending of working days and the beginning of social evenings. Neon signs glare unnecessarily in the golden sunlight and rubbish blows and swirls in the warm breeze, wafted along with the scents of the metropolis. Raptors of all description bustle by, but Dras is lordly among them and he clearly knows it, as testified by the telling half-smirk on his wel-defined reptilian features. Quelling his desire to put crushing emphasis on his right foot, he sets off, strolling at a leisurely pace along the street, feeling the squirms of his victim as every other step squashes Ahastar deeper into the hot leather of his boot and imprints the tiny raptor with the proud profile of Dras' own sole. He feels bones crackle and break, gas pockets pop, fluids squirt and splatter, and his smile broadens as he walks.
The journey lasts perhaps half an hour, during which time the rhythm of his pace and the power of his steps changes only as the big raptor crosses a street or pauses to look in a gadget-strewn shop window. The heat that his sleek talons generate within the coarse fabric wrapping and the thick black leather boots is suffocating, stifling and intense, but Ahastar is completely unable to escape from it as he lies constantly squeezed to the hot sole pads by the tight talon wrap and flattened into the rubber sole of the boot with every other step. Pressure and friction, suffocating heat and a severe lack of air, endless stretching, pulling, compressing, bending and spreading motions as the great sturdy walking section of the raptor's impressive foot shows just what it was made for - and how much better it is than Ahastar at it.
Finally Dras' pace slows as he turns into a narrow alleyway and strides through the doorway of a run-down building, straight into the unmistakable atmosphere of a lively bar. The air is smoke-filled and the lighting dim and dingey, and heavy metal music plays through dirty black speakers mounted over the walls here and there. Tables are dotted around the floor, many with pairs or groups of raptors conversing energetically or arguing or armwrestling. Dras' keen eyes pick out his companions and he makes his way over to one of the tables, nodding greetings to its two raptor occupants. "Hath. Grey. How's it hangin'?"
*
Ahastar barely has a chance to tackle the nigh impossible task of making himself somewhat comfortable in his close and narrow new home, the badly shrunken and even worse compressed half demon just having a tiny moment in which to adjust his panicking body into a position that will probably not completely tear him apart the moment Dras takes a toe-spreading step forwards! Quite a monumental task, given how tightly his captor has strapped him into this vile paw wrapping, especially since Dras wastes no time getting up and into motion! “GLLUUURRRRGHHHH!” …And right there with Ahastar’s first scream of pressure, he has a mouth full of muffling wrap to deal with! Since the half demon’s predatory teeth are shaped with a prey-pinching backwards sweep and he can’t probably pull his hands in for help either, there is no way in hell the shrunken saurian can possibly hope to spit it out again! Curiously enough, it is precisely that gag-enforced silence that allows Dras to listen to the grim results of his casual walking habits with crystal clarity. At first, there is a brutal rising in tunes of cracking bones still barely restrained by half demonic muscles clenching together in an attempted collection of defense. Wow, does that ever fly out of the window the moment the leather-clad raptor begins to hastily run down his stairs! To his athletic, lithe reptile legs the blows feel rather well cushioned and effortless, but for Ahastar, it is pure, unmitigated hell! *THOOOM – BRAAAAM – SPROOOOTCH!* It feels like having a motorically challenged battleship constantly keeling over on top of him, getting back up without an apology, only to stumble and fall down all over the raptor right again! And again. And again! What was a bunch of cracks before now turns into a staccato of crunches so intense that even Dras has to be surprised he is getting even more loud, breaking sounds beyond his walk down the steps and padding along the way, even though the squishy, squeezing, slimy noises are clearly on the rise: *SQUASH – SQUISH - SCCHLLRRRTT*… it feels a lot like stepping around in a batch of moist glue about the time Dras turns over to enter the bar. The wrapping somehow makes it all the more intense instead of less fluid-y, allowing even Dras to feel the wet sensation straight through his rough, worn raptor walking pad! Having arrived at his bar desk and greeting his two carnivoric companions, the vicious demon-crusher kicks the victim-added boot backwards to stand only on its toes, resting his leg casually above the heel of the other one and thus taking all the pressure off of the half demon busily whimpering his anguish into the mind-bendingly hot rubber beneath him! In this position of weightless keeping, the even-planed raptor finally has plenty of time to… fully appreciate all the crush injuries the monstrous deinonychus has pounded straight through that diminished and destroyed little body of his! Ahastar decides to begin with the open fractures...
*
Minutes later, and after a long, very deliberate stand at the bar, this time cruelly favouring his right foot, Dras returns to the table with three drinks, and duly distributes them. He hesitates only for a moment before pulling up a stool and sitting down - an act that mercifully takes the weight off Ahastar's crushed body, leaving the broken half-demon feeling comparitively stretched as the lack of pressure lets his body slide back into shape as much as the thick bandage wraps will allow. The sound of muffled raptorian conversation drifts down to him, along with the hefty throbbing of blood through the veins of his massive captor - a strong, rhythmic squeezing of pressure against his sore underside.
"Not crunching today then?" says Hath with more than a hint of sarcasm, flicking his snout towards Dras' feet. "Have you finally run out of customers to punish?"
Dras puts down his drink and pushes his stool back, then hauls up his right leg to cross ankle over knee and unclip his boot fastenings. Grey gives an amused snort and shakes his muzzle as the blue raptor surripticiously removes his sturdy footwear, but Hath leans in to look: along the middle groove of the raptor's walking section a conspicuous lumpy bulge moves weakly beneath the tight wraps, dark blood staining through the fabric while a muffled moaning becomes faintly audible above the bar's ambiant drone.
"Holy shit!" exclaims Hath, and sends alarmed glances around the bar while Dras calmly puts his boot back on. "Holy shit, man, that's like the third one this week! What the fuck are you playing at?"
Both raptors watch while Dras steps back down, the quiet moaning muted again, then the blue raptor returns to his drink. "Tried to screw me over with match fixing and steroids - I had to teach the little fucker a lesson." He smirks and glances down beneath the table, splaying his leather-clad toes. "Guess he didn't know who he was messing with."
Hath and Grey exchange looks, then the latter says. "Pretty sure that's what you said last time, brother."
"Yeah, how many stimmed-up raptors are you gonna get screwed over by? You're gonna get caught if you keep doing this."
Dras snorts in amusement and shakes his crested head. "Actually it's the same guy. It's been the same guy all week." This draws two blank looks and a puzzled silence. Somewhere in the smokey bunker a glass is smashed and raised voices hiss angrily. Finally Dras shrugs and adds unenlighteningly, "He's holding up pretty well."
Hath gives an irritated snort and thumps the table with a clawed scaly fist. "What the fuck are you talking about? How can it be the same guy? We stomped that last one to mush the other night in your apartment! You've gone and fucking shrunk someone else!"
The blue raptor gives his companion a stern glance and Hath subsides. Dras says quietly, "It's probably best if you don't shout stuff like that to the whole fucking bar, okay?" He pauses and slowly tilts back on his chair for no obvious reason, but then there is a small squishing noise from his boot and a tiny, muffled groan and the big raptor smiles, settling back down. "But yeah," he continues after a moment, glancing up at the other two. "It IS the same guy we stomped to mush." He leans forward conspiratorially. "There's something pretty cool about him..."
*
With the continued shock of equally continued impacts missing and thus the adrenaline levels inside of his pretty hacksawed body dwindling, a ferocious wave of pain comes to claim their place instead! Even the most minute movement sends an outright nuclear meltdown of agony all the way through Ahastar’s shellshocked frame, the intense sensation of suffering racing up and down the half demon’s fourteen-times-broken spinal cord like a mix of scalding fire and freezing ice, finally bumping into the raptor’s torn and tattered tail spade, tagging it, and then rushing back the other way until the pain seeps out from the saurian’s squashed red eyes! The fact that Dras happily keeps on moving makes that all the worse, given that even carefully breathing renders the half demon that deeply into a dimension of suffering that he would happily piss himself, wouldn’t his towering trample torturer’s heavy pads and crushing scales have flattened his bladder around the fourth metal step of his apartment stairs. By now, Ahastar is actually quite glad he has this disgusting patch of blood-soaked pad wrap in his mouth, for it allows him not only to bite on something to deal with this agony inside of a boot *not* enjoying to be nipped in tortured shock, but also prevents him from groaning and whimpering out in pain and humiliation – both sounds Ahastar does not want to grant Dras’ most certainly growing crush-satisfaction. Suddenly though, the rather random stretching, clenching, pressing and tearing changes to a fluid, controlled set of motions that eventually leaves the half demon behind fully exposed and dangling weightlessly off of Dras’ now unbooted foot! At first, after all that time in the crushing hell that is the athletic destroyer’s wraps, the bar light is absolutely blinding in its intensity, making Ahastar wriggle in his binding wraps – and at once regretting it, due to the quick re-influx of bone-marrow-boiling pain. After screeching into the dripping wraps inside his mouth, the half demon actually manages a few single gazes up towards… an old, crude table, various chairs and two sets of raptor eyes peering down at him in sadistic marvel! Ahastar recognizes these faces! A few days ago, his blue-scaled keeper invited these two almost equally massive deinonychi – apparently mates of his – over to his apartment to triple-trample the half demon’s whimpering, begging body nearly through the ceiling of Dras’ lower-living neighbor! Ahastar just has one moment to peer up at the two apparently disbelieving dromaeosaurids with pure horror before he is forced back into his highly compressed universe of rubber, wraps, crushing pads and scales as well as constant, suffocating darkness and sensation-enhancing heat. And for him, that is it! Way above Ahastar’s head the conversation continues, and the half demon can quite imagine that after this arrogant showoff, he is far in the middle of it’s topics!
*
Dras picks at his fangs thoughtfully for a moment, then says, "Tell you what - come along to Sangrium next Wednesday night. There's gonna be a crush show in the basement at nine; me and my little friend are the main entertainment."
Grey opens his jaws to say something, but can't seem to find the words. Finally he laughs and motions with his head towards Dras's booted talons. "You mean...?"
A broad scaly smirk. "Yep. Far as the owner's concerned, he's just another consenting, if masochistic little performer." He glances around again and nods to Hath. "So for fuck sake, don't tell anyone else. The stuff that goes on in there'd be illegal even with permits. We're not just talking cripple-trampling, he's gonna get literally pulped. And you can both come backstage and watch what happens afterwards."
The other two wait expectantly for a moment, but no further explanation is forthcoming and Hath eventually snaps, "Well what does happen?"
Dras grins, his handsome features glowing with feral reptilian cunning. "He comes back to life."
Grey looks strangely disappointed. "What, you mean he heals up? Big deal. That's what nanites are for, brother."
"No, I mean he properly comes back to life - not just heals. He's dead, then he's alive again. Been doing it all week. Sure, I pumped the little squirt full of nanites the first time in my apartment - wanted him to last as long as possible. But he was definitely dead after I'd done with him." Dras pushes back in his chair again and sips from the stained steel mug before him before recounting, "It was late after I'd finished, yeah? So I figured I'd clean up in the morning and I just left him there, cold and lumpy, like the soup in this shithole..." He pauses to look around the bar as though daring anyone to contend, but no one does so he puts his drink down and finishes, "But then he just came back to life, good as new."
Hath looks skeptical. "How hard did you do him?"
"All the way, bro. He was just a puddle on the shower floor when I was done. Trust me, nanites can't change that - not even the hardcore little fuckers we use at Sangrium. He was definitely dead."
Grey arches an eyeridge. "And then...?"
"Then he came back to life. Pop! In a flash of light. It was awesome. I had a fresh little raptor scrabbling about in the shower, trying to climb up the sides." Dras grins at the memory, then suddenly leans forward. "And he does this every night. Every - single - night. He can be splattered all up my talons and half washed down the drain and he still resurrects. You remember what we did to him the other night, yeah? He was good as new the next morning. I don't even use the nanites any more - if anything he lasts better without them! It's like he was made for this, man. My own little resurrecting trample toy. You've gotta see it happen!"
All three raptors are silent for a moment as they absorb this and entertain private pleasurable fantasies, but Hath eventually speaks. Sangrium, huh?" He shoots Grey a 'get real' look and the other raptor nods dejectedly. "There's no way me and Grey are gonna be able to bribe our way into that place. Not all of us here are trample porn stars."
Dras snickers and finishes off his drink. "Yeah, well not all of us here are sexy enough. Don't worry," he says, fending off a swipe from Hath. "I can get you guys in if you're quiet about it. Anyway, I gotta go," he adds, and stands up with a distinct squelch. "You take care, okay?"
The three exchange farewells, then Dras departs, leaving the other two to launch into a hushed argument. "Hear that, bud?" he says down to his right boot as he strolls out of the bar and back into the afternoon sunshine. "We're gonna be on stage together soon, making a lot of raptors real happy. Guess this can be the training for your big night. The fuck are you looking at?" he adds to a curious passer-by, who hastily averts his gaze and lowers his head.
*
The only thing Ahastar hears inside that confined raptor boot so briefly, but brutally intensely having become his new home is an unsettling mix of scratchy pad wraps’ unresting movement and the thoom-tump… thoom-tump… thoom-tump of Dras’ pitch black heart pumping blood through arteries larger than Ahastar’s entire body, especially after it spent some time beneath the monstrous deinonychus’ trampling paw! That sound is as insisting and demanding as the blue-scaled’s foot itself, forcing the half demon’s already stressed enough heart to beat in the intoxicating rhythm of his dominator’s own. The conversations above Ahastar’s crushed skull are intensely muffled. Hell, even Hath, Grey and Dras have a tough time understanding each other in the lively, thick-smoked, raunchy bar without shouting at each other. As such, only hiss-laden “s”-sounds, rolling ever so dominatingly over raptorian tongues, fully make it to the half demon’s half-flattened ears down below. One of these words is “Sangrium”. Ahastar has no idea what or whom that is, but it is not the first time he gets to hear Dras announce that term. Clearly, it is rather meaningful to the victim-pulverizing deinonychus, even though he never fully explained what it is. The half demon has this nasty feeling that he will find out soon, though. The two companion creatures of his lively trample torturer don’t offer any further clues on that either, since they are both apparently fully aware of what precisely “Sangrium” means. Another s-rich term offers more… solid memories for the half demon though: “shower”. Would the saurian still wield muscles instead of crushed red ooze beneath his sole-pattern-imprinted hide, Ahastar would about now shiver in horror. Oh yes, he does remember the shower… The brutal stomps slamming his flesh into the steel hard tub, the constant sound of laughter and aroused purring rumbling down to the half demon smashed into the bottom of his torturer’s padded sicklefeet time and time and time again, all of that flooded by lakes worth of fleeting, rumbling, rushing hot water, steaming and drowning Ahastar – not that his flat crushed lungs would have had much chance to soak in some much needed air. Ah yes, air… “WOOOOORRRSCCHHHHH!” – it is precisely that which is now loudly leaving the half demon’s nostrils, replacing his brooding thoughts with a vicious return of crushing pressure and stomping anguish! From the fact that Ahastar forms one flush line with the padded sole of his keeper yet again, and from the fact that his open fractures tickle even the mighty black pad of his destroyer, things are pretty clear: Dras has returned into his prime trampling stance: Upright!
*
The azure raptor walks in silence for the first few minutes of his journey, his pace slow and measured so he can feel the gradual destruction of the shrunken raptor inside his boot. What begins as a noticeably tighter-than-usual fit of the sturdy leather footwear slowly eases into a more relaxed, comfortable one as the bodily volume of its unwilling occupant decreases, the tiny half-demon losing mass quickly now that his skeleton is little more than a splintered mess of crushed bone fragments. Every well-placed step of the bigger raptor's foot squashes another squelch or pop out of Ahastar, the muffled sounds often accompanied by firm squeezes of pressure as something wet and organic bulges out from under his walking section or squirts between his long scaly toes. Well practised at this kind of sadistic execution, Dras knows precisely how long to persist in his slow walking before Ahastar's purr-inducing expulsions of body mass slow in frequency and eventually stop altogether, at which point the azure raptor comes to a halt.
"Still alive in there, bud?" he says to the empty alley, leaning against a wall and lifting his right boot to better feel for movement from within. The worn black leather responds with utter motionless, but somewhere deep within the groove of his ball pad, Dras feels the tiniest hint of movement: a pulsing of life so desperately faint as to be only barely distinguishable from his own powerful heartbeat. Splaying his toes appreciatively, he says, "Guess you really do last longer without nanites, huh?" and steps back down. "But I might as well finish you off now, since you're gonna pop back again tomorrow. See how long you can survive this one..."
In a sudden surge of energy the raptor lashes forward and sprints down the alley, swirling the ground-hugging steam and smoke in his wake. His tail streaming out behind him and his arms pumping powerfully, Dras accelerates fast, quickly finding the maximum pace that his impressive, athletic body can sustain for extended periods, and he eases into a steady breathing routine that will fuel his body for the duration of the run home. Deep within the dark, hot leather of his boot, the padded sole that had first been squashing Ahastar with nothing but the weight of its owner now begins to rhythmically obliterate him as stomping impacts with the ground are followed immediately by bone-smearing kicks off from it, each movement squashing down on Ahastar with a lethal combination of the big raptor's ghastly weight and the immense force of him either landing from or leaping to the height of his powerful paces. Every time Dras rounds a corner or dodges a passing inhabitant, Ahastar has a fifty-fifty chance of being pulped by a grinding twist of his owner's ankle, and whenever the raptor leaps to clear an obstacle in his path, a similarly weighted chance decides whether the half-demon gets eviscerated in the downward thrust of the leaping foot, or splattered in the impact of the landing one.
Despite the pleasant frothing of bodily fluids all over his upper foot scales and the hot wet slipperiness of innards freshly outed under his sole, Dras finds, through surrupticious glances downwards while he runs, that no traces of Ahastar escape over the top of his boot, the tiny raptor perfectly contained within its black leather confines, his plight hidden from the world. As he nears his final destination, the scaly sadist slows to jog up the metal steps to his apartment, then finally comes to a halt outside his door. He pauses, breathing quickly as he leans against the wall to stretch his legs one after the other, then after a final glance around the grimey neighbourhood, Dras unlocks the door and enters.
Flinging his jacket onto the sofa, he slams the door with his tail and crosses the room to his computer desk, where he gulps back the remnants of his cup of water and grabs Ahastar's box before heading for the bathroom. The raptor's casual movements inflict a final indignity upon Ahastar, whose already-desecreated remains can only squelch and gurgle quietly as they are repeatedly trodden in by the sleek, hot, scaly foot that reduced them. Dras doesn't speak, knowing there is no one left to hear him, and only goes through the motions of cleaning up in silent enjoyment.
He begins by kicking off his left boot and then carefully removing his trousers over the top of the right, fully exposing a sleek azure-scaled body, exerted and radiating heat so soon after exercise. Dras pulls a battered wooden chair up to the edge of the bath and sits down, swinging his right leg over the stained tub, and he leans forward to carefully unbuckle the straps of Ahastar's prison boot. As his claws move to the last buckle, a welling of dark crimson seeps up around it and begins to run down the thick, dark leather outside. Dras quickly intercepts this leakage with a finger and mops it up, then flicks his claws into the open box beside him, streaking the plastic interior with a small lumpy splatter of red. After a moment's consideration, he seals the box up again and pushes it away with his tail, then returns to his half-unbuckled boot. As he undoes the last catch and unzips the front, the full gorey extent of his victim's destruction becomes clear and a broad smile creeps across his scaly features. The big, reptilian talon that he slides carefully out of its leather confines is soaked, splattered with crimson from claw tip to ankle. Its wraps are stained dark and they hang loosely beneath the sole of the walking section where nothing solid remains of Ahastar but a few squashed lumps that come loose and stretch slowly down into the bathtub on ropes of sticky red slime.
His fangs beared in grim enjoyment, Dras slowly peels the wraps from his foot and drops them into a black plastic bag under the sink, then splays out his bare talon and watches as blood trickles down its scaly arch to drip from his narrow digitigrade heel and patter against the pale plastic below. After a while he turns to pick up his liberated boot and holds it over the tub, then he carefully tilts it back and hisses in creamy-eyed pleasure as a lumpy, dark-red fluid pours out.
"You got properly owned this time, bud," Dras says, breaking his silence as he puts down the empty boot and climbs fully into the bathtub, stepping right in the puddle of Ahastar's remains. "Too bad I had to fuck up another pair of boots for it though." He snorts in amusement and reaches to pull across the shower curtain. Moments later, as steam fills the room, the remnants of Ahastar's proud reptilian form are washed from the feet of the bigger raptor - picked from under his toe claws and dug out from between his pads - then swept down the drain.
***
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That was awesome! 
) 
maybe not so much the pain, but if it did hurt (which it bloody would!) id just go "hey at least its by someone's massive paw!"