Grown Men

scale—
    Fuck that king-sized toolbox.
    —For nothing. Ox had dozed off on the curved bench that faced the holo-screen which was projecting a three-dimensional seascape. Jewel-toned fish floated in the air around the slumbering giant. Crustaceans and octopi skittered across the imaginary seabed. Ox’s enormous hand dangled toward the floor like he was reaching for a shell on the habitat floor.
    Never mind.
    Runt grinned, unable to stop himself. This big silent oaf wasn’t scary at all, and certainly wasn’t after his body. Poor fucker is probably dreaming of a jumbo-bimbo troll-wife with a pussy like a split melon. Surely Ox hadn’t asked to be shipped into exile. All that brawn, why didn’t the corporation want him breeding?
    Whole situation has to be a scam. Or a mistake. A joke.
    Runt decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; with this much muscle behind him, Runt would be a citizen in record time and wealthy to boot. They’d terraform their rough corner of the planetoid at superhuman speed and their wives would arrive soon enough as a reward for their impossible labors. It’ll be good to have a friend after all this time.
    That was when Runt remembered he was still naked and standing in the common area. Treading softly, he went to the cabinets and squatted to pull out a fresh worksuit, his only clothing for the seven-year tour. He bunched the soft, sturdy canvas and stepped into the leg holes, pulling the suit over his sturdy legs. With my fucking luck, at this moment our wives are stuck together on an island on the other side of the ocean. Before he even shrugged into the sleeves, Runt gave a bark of laughter and heard the goon snort awake behind him.
    Ox.
    The gigantic stranger had opened his eyes and stared at Runt now through the bright denizens of the swirling undersea hologram. He’d seen Runt’s taut backside and now his semi-engorged front.
    Seconds fell between them while the imaginary fish circled.
    For one moment, Runt remembered being a small boy in a port with nothing of value but his skin and his wits. Still, he stood his ground. He didn’t even cover himself.
    “Sorry.”
    Runt was plenty built, but he could imagine Ox’s disappointment. Imagine being encumbered by a cofarmer who could only do a third of the work, who couldn’t keep his poker down.
    But the dozy deep-set eyes that Ox swept over him held none of that, only blank curiosity. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth.
    In the hologram, a baby shark swam around him and toward the sleep-space, making Runt feel even more like prey. He nodded a greeting to his new cohort.
    Now he knows what’s what.
    Runt blushed a little but stayed still. Being scanned from buzzed head to fuzzy toe-knuckles felt more like a handshake than the grilling he’d expected.
    A school of glittering pinfish floating in front of Ox darted right-left and then behind the bench. He squinted and then raised his groggy gaze again.
    Shrugging, Runt pushed one arm and the other into his sleeves and tucked his plump cock inside the split front. He sealed the lone strip that closed the suit over his hard torso.
    Not that bad, right?
    Wiggling his bare toes on the phantom reef, Runt tried to sound casual. “Plenty of work to do. Rest as you need. The small sun comes up around four.”
    Ox grunted gently and nodded once , as if to say, “Good.” He grinned at Runt and rolled back into a doze, iridescent fish darting through an imaginary ocean between them.

 
     
    Ox changed everything.
    The morning after Ox fell from the sky, Runt snuck out of the house as part of his brilliant plan. Runt had spent the past eighteen months chiseling away at the endless corporate chores without a break, and making scant headway. His numbers couldn’t be anything but terrible. Hard enough that he was so small, but his two hands had botched the jobs that demanded four.
    He knew they’d find a rhythm, but he needed to know what to expect. Today would be an experiment with his gigantic cofarmer as lab rat.
    No instructions. No help .
    After waking, Runt tiptoed through the main room to the wash-space for a piss and a scrub.
    Breathing evenly, Ox didn’t stir on the holo-vid bench. Maybe he wasn’t a morning mutant. What if the bastard slept all fucking day?
    After transport, what did you expect?
    Under the shower, Runt shaved for the first time in weeks. He rinsed the peckertracks off his belly before stepping into a fresh worksuit.
    He hoped HardCell had