On a day as perfect and serene as this, Littlefoot had never been so bored in his life.  Normally there had always been adventures in the Great Valley for him and his friends, but it was impossible to enjoy them without his regular companions.  Cera was helping her father move logs near their nest, swept down from a flooded river last season; Ducky was giving swimming lessons to her brother Spike; and even Petrie was busy out fishing with his mother.
The young apatosaurus let out a deep sigh, watching the sun barely move across the prehistoric sky.  That glorious golden sphere cast shades of green through the massive ferns, whilst palm trees draped shadows across his square snout.  He slumped flat onto his back, and kicked his stubby four legs in the air as if pretending to swim through the sky.
	"What's it like to be a Flyer?" he asked himself.  "Do the wings feel like leaves stuck to your body or, maybe they're like tree bark when it's really thing?  Maybe Ruby could stick them on me, next time she's visiting, and then OOH, I could jump off the low cliffs!  See if I can really fly..."
"And if not?" said a dark little thought creeping in his brain, that made his body stiffen like a rod.  The low cliffs weren't dangerous if one fell, thanks to a river down beneath, but something tickled him funny in a way that made his crotch turn warm.  He shook his head clear and wondered what his grandpa would think-
	"OH, grandpa!" he rolled onto his belly to stand back up.  "I could ask him!"
Trotting off through the rolling hills, he searched for his grandfather hoping he had a story to tell, or some way of passing the time.  It was thankfully easy to find him, the great monolith stretching across the land like his own horizon, a dark greyish-purple apatosaurus who was as long as four three-horns stuck end-to-end.  He always liked to graze further down the valley, the sound of his crunching old teeth like a miniature thunder.
	"Grandpa!  Hi grandpa, are you busy?!"
A rumbling of pleasure filled his ears, as the colossal neck turned itself in a U to meet him.  There Littlefoot saw an ancient face as big as his own body, a grand wizened smile stretching over a boxy snout, beneath tired dark eyes.
	"Hmhmhm, hello my sweet child."  His voice vibrated the youth's bones.  "No one to play with today?"
	"Mmmmm, no," the grandson frowned, "everyone's busy with their families, I thought at least Cera wouldn't be, but-"
	"The flooding, yes, Topsy mentioned while passing by."  The elder nuzzled his boy.  "Do you want to stay with me for a bit?"
	"Sure!" Littlefoot licked the giant's snout.  "I'm always happy to hang out with you."
	Ohhh yes," the grandfather licked back with a tongue that smothered his face, "I am never too busy to hang with you.  It seems to be happening more and more often though, your friends being too busy?"
	"Mmmm, yeah...what are you up to, today?"
	"Well, I'm glad you came, because I was feeling rather heated, and well, my favourite grandson is the only one who can help me."
	"Heehee, but I'm your only grandson!"
	"Exactly, that's why you're my favourite."
His smile beamed serene at Littlefoot, who blushed from another lick that drenched his whole back in a gentle film of saliva.  The youth's cheeks grew a pinkish hue beneath his soft shale-grey, having always been glad to help his grandfather with such urges.
	"Do you...want me to use my mouth, grandpa?" he asked first.  "Or did you want to, try my butt again?"
	"Ohhh, just your mouth today," the elder lifted one foot, "something simple."
His legs were the size of tree trunks, with each step causing deep shudders in the earth as Littlefoot wandered between them.  There he saw something bulge between the back legs, a long, pendulous shaft that snaked free with a hefty drip, swollen and pink with a creaking girth.
It was something they always did together, but lately Grandpa had needed his services more and more often.  Lying onto his back, the grandson lifted up his legs to let the meaty shaft slap down on him, a thud that took the breath out of his lungs before he wrapped his limbs round and started to suck.
His tiny mouth gulped down the head, his long neck managing to take a few inches in the gargantuan girth as his grandfather moaned in bliss.  A steady drip of pre began to fill his throat, the boy nursing on his fat prick as he closed his eyes with greedy little slurps.
	"Ohhhh Littlefoot," the ancient sighed, "aaaah that's it...you make me feel better than even your grandmother could, such a tight beautiful body you have for your old grandpa."
The smaller apatosaurus blushed with a sense of pride.  He wasn't sure why that made him proud, but he always loved to help his grandfather.  Even if his sputtering milk would wash over him so thick, that his friends complained about the sticky scent sometimes, at least until he had a few baths.  But he never minded, so long as this playtime was kept a secret between him and Grandpa.
Of course he trusted his grandparent, who had never lied to him in his whole life, and these special playtimes had given him this weird tingling in his belly, between his legs at the thought of it.  The old apatosaurus' smile was always sweet, even when he grinded his huge, pendulous form, a throbbing monolith that his grandson sniffed and licked over with sweet little whimpers.  The boy even let the pre smother his face, a flexing vein pushing on the youth's stomach.
	"Such a good child...mmmmph...I've even heard you whimper for me in your dreams, you sweet little lad...along with other things."
	"Mmmm, y-yeah?" Littlefoot gasped, still licking the head.
	"Like how you wish you could fit more of me inside you...just the tip is enough though, but then, you have always been rather reckless, haven't you?"
	"Wha, what do you mean?"
	"Just that, your adventures have been rather more death-defying than usual, lately.  Not that I worry, I know you are a strong and capable thing, but...is there a reason for that?"
	"Um, w-well," he pushed himself a bit further off the dick, "I suppose I've just been...more adventurous than usual!  But I'm still careful, I promise!"
	"And your dreams?"  His head loomed down near his legs.  "Are you still having those?"
He didn't always remember them, but the dreams usually woke Littlefoot with a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, and sometimes his penis would come sliding out, even when he didn't have to pee.  The dreams made little sense to him, and to any other Longneck child would be called nightmares, but for some reason they never scared him.
	"I...I am," he gulped as he kept licking the cock, "sometimes it's sharp teeth closing round my neck.  Or your big heavy feet crushing my head until it's dust."
	"Mmmmmm, interesting," Grandpa nodded sagely, "and how does it make you feel?"
	"It...makes me excited.  Makes my thingy come out, even when I don't have to pee."
	"Ohhhh," this caused his grandfather to spurt a river of pre on him, "and have you been going out on your own, without your friends, like I said?"
	"Mmhmm!" the boy nodded with sticky white face.  "It's not bad of me, right grandpa?"
	"No no, of course not.  After all, they've gotten too busy, and you've always needed adventure in your life."
	"Yeah, I...I-i love adventure, I get really excited, and when I do, when I feel I'm in danger, my thingy gets even more hard!"
	"Ohohoh...such a sweet boy, don't fear, that's perfectly natural for you."
	"Mmmm, yeah," he kept nursing on the slimy tip as milk smothered his lips, "guh, haaah, wh-why are you so curious about my adventures, grandpa?"
	"I know plenty about dreams, Littlefoot," his aged voice filled his ears, "when you are as old as me, you dream even when you are awake, and the mind loves to speak of hidden things and wants, that you long relish for in secret."
The old apatosaurus watched the youth suck him off, with that perfect little tongue so warm and tight, so sweet and small.  Every little suck made him flex his tremendous pillar, sighing with a long shiver through his neck at the boy's eagerness.  But what was making him throb even more, was imagining the youth in his daring adventures.
The murmurs of bliss in his dreams from being crushed, stomped, twisted and mangled, they were wonderful to him.  For the longest time, Grandpa Longneck had developed some terrible thoughts, some deep insidious feelings that while borne out of love, where also festering with taboo.  And when Littlefoot began to reflect those same desires, he had never been harder more than now in his life.
	"I've heard you rambling when you were asleep, Littlefoot," he sighed, pulsing his length, "that thrill you felt when jaws close round your throat, your skull being turned into little shards.  You're a curious little thing, aren't you?  Fascinated with the death...especially your own, whenever it may come."
	"M-mmmhhh, mmmmh?!" he looked to his elder still sucking on the shaft.
	"And I must confess...I'm rather excited by the idea too, it makes me just...hhhhhhh!"
A flexing shot of pre spattered the boy's face, painting him in gooey drips of thick musky white, too thick for him to swallow.  It was an odd thing to hear a grown-up say to him, but Littlefoot was so busy struggling to swallow all his milk, he had little time to process when his cheeks bulged with his grandfather's climax.
Rope after rope of thick Longneck cum shot down his throat, filling up his round belly to the point of overflowing.  Eventually he couldn't hold it in, and let the rest of it spray over his body, dousing him in a rich white sea.  Not that he minded, knowing his grandpa loved to get him dirty and covered in hot spooge.
He briefly came back to the world, seeing the wondrous carpets of green and the tall spanning trees that were only slightly taller than his grandparents.  The shriek of Flyers and their shadows swooping past, gave a brief serenity to them both as Grandpa came down from his orgasm.
	"Ahhhhh, yes.  That's a good boy...my dirty little grandson."
	"AHHH, MMMGLRK!  Wow, you were fast today!" Littlefoot coughed, rolling back on his feet.  "What was that you said about, my dreams exciting you?"
	"Well," he lifted his leg to let him leave, "I've always wondered why such a clever little Longneck such as you, would need to go all the way out there for such thrill of adventure...when you can make your own here?"
	"Mmmm?" he pawed the cum off his face to see.  "What, what do you mean?"
	"Have you ever tried to put yourself in a dangerous situation, that you made yourself?  I know that's an odd, silly thing to say, but the way it excites you, the same way your body excites me...I just want to see if I can help you find that same pleasure."
	"What, what sort of pleasure?" the boy's little brain whizzed with so many questions.  "You mean like...the things I dream of?"
	"Your death, Littlefoot."  The grandfather's smile never changed.  "Imagine getting so close to death, and feeling your body surge with that excitement."
	"My...death?  You mean, in the valley?"
	"Yes, dear boy."  He nuzzled close to lick the creamy face clean.  "Mmmm, I think if your dreams are that strong, then you should pursue them."
	"But...isn't it bad, to die?  I don't really know what they mean, but the grown-ups always tell us we should be careful."
	"True, but only if you're senseless about it.  If you are determined, and know what you truly desire...then who are we to stand in your way?"
The thought of his grandson in his last moments made him throb once again, a shuddering drip between his legs as he sighed deep across the boy's face, washing him in a hot mist.  Then he saw Littlefoot's back legs spread apart, a whimpering sound when his own little cock flexed out from his slit, feeling more naked then ever.
	"I mean...um, i-if you're okay with it.  I could try it, if it's safe."
	"You always were a dreamer, my sweet child," the elder nuzzled him, "perhaps that is where you belong, lost in your dreams."
He kissed his grandson with a soft suckling smooch, the tip of his massive tongue filling the boy's throat as his breath fed into him.  Their trembling desires synced for a moment, as they heard the wattling call of Duckbills in the distance.  One could see the tonguetip undulate inside Littlefoot's neck, feeding the boy his elder's saliva in a sweet trembling shudder.
	"Do you want to feel it in your waking breath, Littlefoot?" he pulled back with a long web of drool.  "That ache in your dream to leave this world, to die with a body so tight, that burning heat in your neck and your stiffening penis?  You can tell me, my child.  I would never judge you for whatever you wanted."
	"Really?" asked Littlefoot, licking his lips clean.  "Are you...are you sure that's okay?"
	"Absolutely.  In fact, I know a place where I could grant you your last wish."
The young apatosaurus was trembling from the deep kiss, that size difference overwhelming him and yet it warmed all his body.  His eyes sparkled with the promise of oblivion, his feet tapping on the grass and his tail swishing behind.
	"I...I-i do dream about it a lot...every night.  A rock falling on me and crushing my bones, or a sharp tooth just...eating me.  I even sometimes dream about...you."
	"Really?  Then I will be glad to help you reach your dream, my grandson.  Come, let me show you the Wishing Tree."

The Wishing Tree never had an official name, lying at the base of the eastern cliffs.  A large, unusual but dangerous tree with a mushroom canopy, arcing the sky like a floating hill.  Petrie had always been warned never to go near it, something he told his friends in turn about its dangerous, dangling vines.  The Longnecks walked towards it, as the elder listened to his grandson babble about his dreams, turning evermore excited and himself remaining constantly hard.
	"Here we are," he nodded towards the tree, "long ago, my grandfather told me that those who truly know their deepest desire, can find true bliss here.  And I think you could certainly find yours, if you climbed up there."
	"Up...there?" Littlefoot gestured with his head.
	"The vines, boy.  That is how the Tree reaches you, by slipping one round your beautiful neck."
At the base of the tree were the many bones of saurians and mammals, the odd Flyer skull still hanging between the vines to sway gently in the breeze.  A ghastly whistling rattled through its eye sockets, as Littlefoot marched between twisted little spines so casually discarded, that were soon consumed by the moss in time's passing.
	"Those vines?" the youth tipped his head up.  "I don't understand, how will this tree help me?"
	"You will understand," the elder bent his head down, "climb up, boy.  I will help you reach your dream."
	"Um...o-okay, grandpa."
Scrabbling upon the aged head, pulling wrinkles with his back legs, the little apatosaurus was carried up to the height of the canopy, which was almost as high as his grandfather was.  The noose-shaped ivy swung with a shiver in the wind, as if waiting for their newest friend.
The sight of the skulls frightened him a little, but he also knew he was larger than a Flyer, giving him the courage to suppress that natural alarm of danger dwelling inside him.  But even stronger was that yearning towards the dark, to see the end of his life, to feel the light fade from his eyes.  There was a strange humility he felt all of a sudden, a sense of a wasted life, as if the only reason he had to live, was to end it in bliss.  Do it, something begged.  But it wasn't loud enough until he stepped onto a branch, and slipped his head through the vine.
	"Mmmm...feels, n-nice," he rubbed his neck on the ivy, "what...what do I do now?"
	"Jump off the branch," his grandfather nodded, "like your friend Petrie does when he's about to fly."
	"But...w-won't this um...I would die, right?"
	"Is that not what you want?  To be free at last, and reach your dreams finally?  You're already so excited to embrace death, I can see."
The little one was throbbing, feeling the rope-like bond pull at his neck, a tightening on the larynx that offered such promise.  Was it his imagination, or was it getting tighter somehow?  His cock slid out to its full length, dripping hungry for desires unspoken.  Here lied a gateway to another world, another existence to beyond.  And from the other side, Grandpa Longneck stared at him, dribbling a full river underneath him.
	"Come to me, Littlefoot.  Jump, and be happy forever.  Your friends will understand why you did this, in fact I'm sure they'll be even happier without you."
	"R-really?" gasped the grandson.  "Without me?  Why?"
	"Because you reached your dream...they will understand.  I understand too.  After all, to die would be the greatest adventure, hmm?"
He winked with a deep chuckle, and for a few seconds Littlefoot had thought this to be all the game, that Grandpa would take the vines off him and they would return back to normal.  But it was real now.  It felt too real, and with his body now paralysed on that branch, with no means of getting down, he felt gladly pushed to the edge as he felt the vines tightening.
Would it snap his neck in one twist?  Would he dangle and choke, suffocating in the air?  The very thought made him almost cum on the spot, slickening the branch dangerously beneath his small feet.  He braced himself to take one last step, with only one thing left to ask his family.
	"Won't you miss me?" Littlefoot asked.  "You and grandmother?  I wouldn't want you to be sad without me."
	"Ohohoh, no, Littlefoot."  His smile was angelic as his eyes turned bright.  "Of course I won't miss you.  In fact, no one will.  We all know you would be much happier off dead, in your own true adventure.  It would be selfish of me and your grandmother to let you stay alive, undreaming as it were."
He lifted one of his legs to show how immensely hard he was, a thick spurt blasting the tree itself to pool under Littlefoot's branch.  There was a dark twitch in the old Longneck's face, his excitement palpable with a thick rumbling breath, watching that small beloved face in the noose, so close to the end.
	"Go on, Littlefoot," he whispered, leaning close, "kill yourself for grandpa.  Make us both happy with your death."
Littlefoot trusted him more than anyone in the world.  if he said no one would miss him, then he was surely right, as he saw his grandfather's towering erection so full of desire.  This was it.  Nothing he said could upset his family now.
	"Okay," the boy gulped, "I'm...I'll do it.  I'll kill myself."
	"Good boy."
	"But, b-before I...um...I have another thing, a dream I always wanted to tell you.  Sometimes, I like to think that...after I'm dead...you would play with my body, like our special playtimes?  Will you do that to me, even when I'm gone?"
	"Ohhh, absolutely," he licked the boy's face through the noose, "I'll make sure you're full of Grandpa's thick, loving cream when you're dead.  Just as you deserve to be."
	"I...I-i deserve to die.  Mmmhhh...I'll do it, Grandpa."
	"Do it, my sweet grandchild.  Kill yourself...tell me how happy you'll be when you're gone at last."
	"I...I'll be happier than I ever would have been," Littlefoot shivered.  "I'm...I'm going to die, and I'm glad I'll be dead.  Goodbye, Grandpa!  I loved you!"
The elder bit his lip with a giidy elation, eyes widening when his grandson walked off the branch.  A sudden jerk of the rope, a heaving choke and a sputtering crack.  Littlefoot felt a thundering in his chest, a dizzying cry when he tumbled through the air, trying to walk through the sky like he did just today.
Every second his body dropped felt like eternity, before they snapped back with a crunch.  His eyes burned red with a shrieking cough, a terrible pain through his neck that bent in a curve as he twitched his limbs.  The pain was nothing like he had ever felt, a raw exciting bliss of sweet suffocation, choking the life out of him so ruthlessly that he came there and then.
A warmth started to grow through him, as his brain sent desperate signals to expand and breathe.  His mouth flapped like a dying fish, his eyes rolled upwards in a strangled shriek as he heaved his body up as best he could.  His most powerful, and last, orgasm came free, a pathetic squirt that painted his grandfather's face with soft droplets of milk.
He tried to speak, say goodbye once more but he couldn't.  His vision became blurry, a light swarming his eyes as the clouds turned into strange, familiar shapes.  Was She there, waiting for him?  Was this what he truly wanted all along, to be back with Her?  His neck began to lengthen, his eyes turned red with little blood veins pulsing as his tongue became fat.
The grandfather moaned at the death of his future, his helpless child kicking in desperation.  It was so much more beautiful a sight than he imagined, that soft sweet face bloating to a suffocating wheeze, the legs twitching violently as if trying to snap free from their joints.  The old beast stepped closer to suck on his twitching cock, drinking the last drips of his climax, letting his last moments be in the warmth of his family.  But also, to feel the last pulse of his heart, when death finally took him.
Soon he would stop, the young Longneck fell limp with a last shivering breath.  He smiled with a rictus grin, his aching shaft flexing on Grandpa's tongue, who heard a soft whimpering of his soul escape him.
	"Ohhhhh Littlefoot," said the elder, licking across his belly, "my sweet child...ohhh I'm so glad you're dead at last."
He was struggling on the edge of orgasm, as the huge apatosaurus lifted his body up to plant his front legs on the trunk of the tree.  The mighty roots held his weight, as he positioned his length towards the hanging body, rubbing his enormous cocktip along the face to smear it with pre.
	"My wish came true, it seems...mmmmmhhhh...aaaah...ohhhh, I only reget you didn't kill yourself sooner, my sweet, sexy grandchild."
When his body shut down, Littlefoot's mind took longer to die as oxygen dwindled with each passing second.  Had he been cut down there and then, he would have possibly survived, resuscitated with some care, but they both knew this wouldn't happen.  He tasted the pre of his grandfather drowning him, pumping into his throat and splashing on his cheeks.
The last few seconds of eternity stretched to a yawning abyss.  Darkness grew in Littlefoot's brain, as each little thought, each dream and memory he had with his friends, would die inside him.  Nothing mattered beyond this single moment, his singular happiness to cum at the brink of death, and fade forevermore.  His eyes turned glassy, staring at his grandfather's cock that continued to molest his body in slow, heavy thrusts.
	"AAAAH, haaah!  Ohhh Littlefoot, little deaf foot, my dearest boy!  Ohhh, you've made your grandfather so much h-happier, than...than ever you could have when alive...I am s-so, proud of you, AAAAAH!"
With a mighty blast of orgasmic jizz, he drenched the swinging corpse in a thick deluge of semen.  The trunk was smeared in white, the vines dripped with his naked lust, and Littlefoot himself resembled a ghostly pear off the branch.  His face was obscured beneath the cum, with tongue hanging free, eyes rolled up, and a black line forming on his neck.
	"Mmmmm, that was wonderful," said Grandpa, putting his feet back down with a heavy shake, "you were such a good boy, Littlefoot.  I'll come see you again, after I've rested, you certainly know how to take a lot out of your old grandfather.  And remember...it'll be our little secret."
He winked with a hearty chuckle, before walking away with his long tail swishing in glee.  The sounds of the Great Valley continued on undisturbed, as Flyers swooped through the sky, Threehorns barked in the distance, and the wind rippled through ancient ferns.  Littlefoot remained hanging off the tree, soon forgotten, soon disappearing.  Soon nothing more than a dream, even to those who once knew him, until one day his bones would lie beneath.