It just so happens that humans like to think about things, and as an astonishing consequence of thought, they like to bring into reality those things they imagine. Imagine that! Now, the group of people that interests me for the purpose of this entry is that one that likes to think of beings of different sizes, sometimes with a sexual purpose, and sometimes without one. I belong to that group of people, and even among them I’m a minority simply because of my gender.
It’s a well known fact that no one can be intimate with a giantess, because we don’t exist. Sadly, the reverse is also true. It’s impossible to come on to a shrunken man, because there are none to be found in nature. So what do we do? We use Photoshop, we draw, we write stories, with the intention of painting a scene of what’s in our minds.
I had a blog at the now defunct Giantess.com where I stashed all this stuff, and even there it was embarrassing to share it with the perfect stranger that is the Internet, and I grew so uncomfortable at one point that I temporarily deleted my blog. I was about to initiate it again when the blogs there were shut down as well… so I’m here for a while.
I have a vague idea of the reason why writing publicly about these things is embarrassing. It can be a very personal matter, deeply intimate. My social conditioning dictates I keep such matters to myself, and so do my principles (therefore I will be keeping them to myself) but there are places in the spectrum of blogging about this stuff that are healthy, possibly even helpful. That’s why I’m here.
So, my name is [Undersquid] and I like to think about being a giantess, and about shrunken men. Man.
“Birds. I hate them.”
I heard his voice despite the clicking of my keyboard as I worked, and I darted my eyes from the computer screen to glance at him. He was sitting a few inches away from my moving fingers, on my kneaded eraser, which he had pounded into the shape of a rudimentary seat after many weeks of punching it with his tiny fists and rolling it under his small body in the same way I used to pretend to exercise with my inflatable vinyl ball, now forgotten next to the treadmill that now doubled as a clothes rack.
He looked bored. Whenever he was bored, he hinted at things he wanted to do. Vituperating birds showed the same desire to go out that people that rail against rain demonstrate… except in their case rain drops could not carry them away to their nests and feed them to their young.
“I know, honey.” I kept typing, knowing the drip of hints would continue.
“Nice day, today.”
clickety-clack-click-clack “True, dear.”
“Sunny, after this morning’s storm.”
“Fingers tired yet?”
He started flexing his legs and stretching his back. Being a leg woman, I naturally felt my focus peel away from my work like a three-day scab. Dirty rat, I thought, I need to get this done– But then he crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting over the other leg’s knee, and began to twirl his foot. My temples startled to tingle, and my mouth, to water.
“Whatcha looking at?” he asked, innocently. I hadn’t noticed I was staring, and my typing had stopped. I moved my eyes from his delicious toes to his face (a very short distance), and narrowed them. I was about to scold him, but the self-satisfied smile he had plastered on his face pulled an involuntary giggle from my throat.
“That’s a dirty trick, Little One.”
“Yes, dear. Sorry, dear. Won’t do it again, dear.”
“Right. Maybe not this minute. So, you are bored, and none of your toys will amuse you,” I said, giving up the keyboard, and turning my office chair an inch to the right. His brown hair began to blow back and settle intermittently, keeping the rhythm of my breath.
“I am bored… and thought maybe we could go boating. It’s a beautiful day, and you won’t let me go outside on my own, so I thought we could go to the pier, and rent a boat.”
He was right. It was a beautiful day, and birds would spot him on the grass in an instant. I drove from my mind with a shiver the incipient thought of his body in the air to be beaked to death, and smiled at him again.
“OK! It’s boating for you, then.” Gently, I picked him up from my desk and the eraser that had a delightful two-cheeked shape where he had been seating, and walked out the back door. From the coil of my fingers I heard his chirping.
“”Why are we going out the back door? And you forgot the car keys. Honey?”
I was silent as I partially closed my eyes to the momentarily shocking brightness of the day. The grass was wet, the trees glistened with thousands of clinging water diamonds, and to the right of my deck I spied a puddle. A yellow leaf rested on the surface. I walked to it and smiled as grass blades tickled and wet my feet.
“”What’s going on? What are you doing?” I could hear disappointment in his voice, and almost felt guilty … but then the thought of what I was about to do brought another smile to my face. I looked down at him, barely visible in the embrace of my hand, and kneeled slowly, bringing my knees down to the edge of the puddle. I opened my fingers and released his tiny body to the floating leaf. He yelped and bounced slightly on the soft surface.
“”Ouch! Oh, c’mon- I thought we were going to the pier- this is not my idea- man….”
He sat up and gave me a reproachful look. I handed him a toothpick.
“Yes, I know. You wanted me to get on a boat and row all day as you sat in my pocket and napped. You wanted me to get us in the car and drive ninety minutes to the pier, and entertain you. Well, darling, it is you who is going to do the amusing. Go on, Little One, use the toothpick as an oar, and show me how tiny you are….”
He rowed, and loved every minute of it, especially when the wind of my breath would send him to the other side of the puddle. When exhausted, he fell asleep in the bed of the leaf, and I lifted it by its bended canopy to bring him inside with me.
I still didn’t get any work done after that.