The Kobold Cocksucker

Written by AlexNightmurr.
When I was a young kobold, I was pretty much the same in height as I am as an adult - that is to say, exceptionally small. You may think that such a stature will be ideal for getting into nooks and crannies, special tasks and the like, but my dad saw my potential as something else entirely.
My father saw me as the ideal cocksucker.
'Course, when he planted me in those dingy mall bathrooms, he had to put a stool under my feet first, so I could reach face-level height with the grimsly hole in the wall - covered in sellotape and positively reeking of cum as it is.
Aye, there's no doubt about it. My dad practically sold me out. But to this day I have yet to find the answer as to who he was selling me too. It definitely wasn't the men who I drained the nut out of, because, by the time they were walking out of the restroom, they always said something along the lines of "that girl's mouth was amazing" or "damn, I'll have to get that boy's number sometime." 
It's somewhat of a relief, then, that no words were allowed to be exchanged in these so-called "rest areas"; a place where men can get their fat cocks drained of spunk by an experienced mouth. It was a collection of stalls with glory holes in them, disguised in a dilapidated bathroom, a far cry away from the hustle and bustle of the main area of the mall, yet many men came here despite that. 
I had grown familiar to the sound of that creaky wooden door opening, the unmistakable plodding of polished shoes against dirty tiles, and the positively mouth-watering sound of a pair of pants being unzipped, all to let out the next modest-to-large sized cock plod against my little snout, my little tongue surprising them each and every time.
Be it married men, bi-curious men or "straight" jocks - all men succumbed to the pleasure of my underage mouth. They would often remark how wet and moist it feels, my little tongue dancing around their thick shafts in desperation for more semen - semen with which I was subsiding on. 
My father didn't feed me very much when he was selling me out, you see. He would often give me one meal and call it day, as he reasoned that "the litres of man-spunk poured down your belly is more than enough nutrients for a growing boy such as yourself." 
Those were his last words to me before I never saw him again. 
Strangely enough, my uncle carried the work in his wake, telling me the same old things:
"It'll earn you good money."
"You'll learn how to request favours from men."
"It's good for you."
"I'm just teaching you what cubs are for."

The fact that my uncle was so eager to continue selling me out to an unknown vendor, even the fact that he knew about it at all, meant that whatever tradition my family is upholding here, it isn't just some creepy, self-fulfilling fantasy made up by my father. Nay, it's about business. The business of cub sexual exploitation.
In truth, I quite enjoyed my time as a sex slave. Though I would've much preferred to be fed a little more. The bitter, salty taste of cum in my mouth grew tiresome after a while, and there would be weeks when I'd be practically brushing my teeth with semen.
I mean, what's the difference anymore?
I wake up to getting my kiddie ass pounded by uncle, who always dumps his morning wood into my tiny, clenching hole. And if that didn't wake me up in the first place (which, surprisingly, it usually didn't, you get used to men using you), then I would surely be awoken by the sound of my uncle groaning like a fucking gorilla as he slams my underage ass into my single, cute little bed, his big brawny body barely able to fit on, his legs practically falling off the sides, whilst shouting:
"I fucking love cub sex!!!" 
If I knew my family would all be raging cubophiles, then I would've… Well, what can you do in that situation? Say 'no'? Assuming you've even got the ability to speak yet, my father would've been dragging me out of that crib like his life depended on it and getting his hard-earned nut in some baby cub hole. It didn't matter if I wailed, flailed, trying to helplessly fend him off, none would match the strength of an adult. I'd just need to shut up and take it. Some things in life you just have to do: like take your father's dick when you're not even a year old yet.
So I think, what I mean to say, is that it's just fate.
I may as well make the most of it, you know? I can't exactly drown in my sorrows. This is the card I was dealt, and I must play it to the best of my ability.

That is why, after a while of the, shall we say, 'Stall Sucking' endeavours I was forced to partake in, I learnt to enjoy the simple pleasures. Like the taste of cock in my mouth. Where has it been? Inside his wife? His daughter? Hell… maybe his own baby? 
The taste of pussy is unmistakable. To put it frankly, it's vile. I don't care about anything other than dick and the masculinity of men.
However, when I taste it on a cock, my mind wanders… There are many pussies in this world. Which hole has this cock impregnated? Has he fucked his dog's juicy pussy? Has he finally caved in after watching one too many of his daughter's FurryTok dances, and decided to play 'hide the meatstick' with her? Or has he simply… Had sex with his wife? 
The vanilla stuff got boring to me fast.
After being abused by my father, and learning that men always came back to the stall for a second go at my child mouth, I thought that:
"Men are just fucking perverts."
I am certain of it. Come on really. Would this stud I'm sucking off right now really want to fuck his wife? Or is he too busy eyeing up his dog who's doing splits before him, that thick pussy always hanging out of her back like a trophy, dripping to the floor… There's a reason daddy didn't get her spayed.

And… As time went on, I realised that there must be a reason men come here in the first place. Apart from the obvious, of course. There is nobody else present in the stalls. It's literally just me, a small Kobold whose neck pain is primarily caused by sucking off massive cocks for 5 hours a day. 
Something, or someone must prompt them to come here - whether it be simple rumour, or maybe even a middle man… and what if the same middle man in question was the same one who had been funding my family for this 'education'? 
As far as I know, they're only educating me on how to become a proper cocksleeve, and achieve my fate as a cub.
As my mind matured, I came to the conclusion that it could all be part of some conspiracy to transform cubs into mindless fucksleeves… Or maybe the tin foil hat doesn't fit me too well?
I felt comfortable with my new life until, one day, presumably like any other at the Sucking Stalls, was going to end up being very different...

I happened across a wolf with a large uncut dick who seemed really taken with me.
As soon as he felt my succulent child lips wrap around his shaft, the man could not stop thrusting and moaning behind the stall. In fairness, his cock was also the best I sucked - tasting like none other before it and positively reeking of ass juices. Yeah, that's right. The taste of ass for once.
("Finally. Somebody who swings my own way…") I thought.

It was only until he groaned out:
"It kinda tastes like my son's mouth…" that I realised he had experience in the field of cub-fucking. As if he had already broken my disguise, the wolf knew my weakness. He pulled his cock out and asked:
"Age?" 
Metaphorically, I shat my pants. I did not expect this, nor understand the reason on how this wolf deduced me so easily, but no reason could be more accurate than the following: he's an experienced cub fucker.
I didn't bother artificially deepening my voice this time, as I had done for so many men before when they asked annoying questions.
"I-I'm 9, sir," I said, shyly, my boyish voice reaching his ears in an instant, setting his cock off to throb constantly in front of me.
He jammed it back in again and simply commanded: 
"Taste my cub-loving cock."
I felt a sense of pleasure for the first time… The fact that this man was hitting my buttons already made me anxious, I didn't know what to do next, and my routine was thrown off.
I simply licked around that thick shaft, my little tongue playing with his foreskin, and he groaned in pleasure.
("I must be doing a good job…") I thought to myself. The man chuckled and pulled his cock out again, child spit dripping to the dirty floor.
"You've come along well, Slave #45," he boomed out in his deep, handsome voice.
("Slave #45…?") 
The door swung open behind me, revealing several men in dark suits with the badges of "CL" on their shirts and shoulders.
The first thing that came to my mind is CubLovers.net, a site which my dad frequented all too often.

"Let's take him out of here," a black dragon said.
"He's done well enough in these surroundings. It's time to treat the boy to what he truly deserves."
The wolf came around to talk to the men in suits, giving them an inquisitive look.
"The next step… Ass fucking?" He asked.
"Aye," the dragon nodded his head.
"And in one of our famous suites no less." 
I was picked up and whisked away before I could even register what was happening. I was put into the back of a black van with several other cubs, who, strangely enough, looked somewhat happy. They were all conversing with each other before I entered, and turned to look at me with bright eyes:
"Oooh, you're the new one!" A German Shepherd cub said, clapping his hands excitedly.
"The new one…?" I tilted my head, the cum scent on my breath still strong.
"Come, sit down!" A cheetah cub patted the ground, inviting me over. Warily, I stepped forward. 
("A new home…?") 
Perhaps fate is not so bad after all. Not when you're treated right, that is.