Little man walking

iPet 2
The iPet v2.01, available at eBay.

My pet. My little iPet, as I like to think of him. As I mentioned yesterday, I like to think of going for walks as a giantess. Things are different with a shrunken man, and I’m normal sized. One of those arbitrary notions that permeates my fantasies (such as that one about interaction being possible between a mega giantess and a man) is that a tiny man lives in constant danger of dying because of his insignificant size. That is the foundation on which fabulous thoughts regarding my protection and his cunning displays of intellect in the face of adversity come to be.

A little guy that only measures a couple of inches in height can’t possibly go out for a walk on his own without running the risk of getting lost in a forest of grass, or eaten by a bird that sees him as a luscious worm. He’s so bitty a cricket can box his ears, and and a praying mantis can rip his head from his shoulders. Ants could kill him and carry his body off to their hill, if they don’t choose to devour him on the spot and leave his skeleton for me to find. Oh joy.

So he arms himself. A lighter becomes a flame-thrower, bits of metal are trimmed into sword and knife shapes, my gun’s cartridges are raided for gunpowder, matches are lugged to serve as torches, and if that was not enough, he cuts sections off my fishnets to trap enemy bugs for torture and interrogation, rides a trained mouse as a cavalry of one that charges fearlessly against all toe-level foes that come between he and the cookie jar in the kitchen… and no matter how many times I caution him, ask him to call me if he wants to leave the dollhouse for a walk, he loves to plot his manly raids (usually with his equally courageous shrunken friends) perhaps as much as he likes the feeling of my giant fingers wrapped around his body.

No, I doubt that.

I love to imagine he walks with me sometimes, or rides a little toy car next to my feet to keep up. On days I’m not thinking of birds or cats, we walk that way, and talk of things we love, and I can hear him clearly even though his mouth is hundreds of relative feet away from mine.

Other times he rides my big toe, and I always give him a little prize if he can last longer than eight seconds on it. But I never put a leash on him… well, almost never. The idea of a man as a pet has its appeal on days I feel the mood for that, and I like the image enough to collage about it. I can’t imagine anything that says YOU ARE MINE AND I’M IN CHARGE OF YOUR LIFE more than a leash, and an inscribed little silver name tag hanging from his neck.

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2 thoughts on “Little man walking

  1. Lovely scenarios. I mean, not getting swarmed and picked apart by ants. And I would never torture an insect for information or entertainment. I’d kill it in self-defense and that’s it, I’d take no joy in its suffering. I think one good sewing needle would make an excellent foil, as trite as that sounds. Light, strong and sharp, you just have to lunge in for a solid warning shot to scare most things off. I bet.

    I would love to take the big-toe-rodeo challenge! I’d probably require lots of practice at it, lots and lots of practice. And then ever afterward, the simplicity of new tasks could be rated “as easy as falling off a toe. And I should know!” I’d have to say it like that every single time, thrusting a thumb sharply at my own chest, because no one else in the world really gets to.

    A remote-controlled vehicle sounds like a blast, once we really work on the suspension and handling. Otherwise, I see myself jostled in my seat until my spine crumples like a bendy-straw, being whipped back and forth until I fall out of the vehicle and am left tragically behind, too injured to cry out for help, watching my giantess and my wheels disappear in the distance. Right before getting discovered by some horrid snuffling dog or a toddler’s candy-sticky hands or something as nightmarish. Maybe I’ll avoid the RC car except for extremely controlled circumstances.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you! A couple of times I’ve imagined the kind of pet my little man would “adopt”. Since he can’t go to the pound, and a puppy is out of the question, what can possibly fit in the dollhouse, and will be a faithful companion? He’s surprised me with his choices. One time I caught him trying to teach a black widow spider tricks. Another, he decide a stink bug would camouflage the fact that he had stopped taking showers. Then, there was that year his ladybug farm got out of control; my roses were thankful, though. He also befriended a cricket, but that thing went nuts in the dollhouse. There wasn’t a dish or glass left in one piece once it was done. I had to institute a no-pets policy, until we agree on a creature that won’t raise some kind of havoc.

      Hahah! I can just see you making that claim to whoever will listen. In tiny bars and parties, to all your tiny, disbelieving friends. They would demand proof, and you all would be too drunk to know any better. “It’s true! I’ll show ya. I’ll show all of ya!”

      Your giantess would never keep going. She would keep an eye on you at all times. Or maybe she’ll construct a special plexiglass cover for the RC car. You can ride and wave at the crowds from your own popemobile.

      Liked by 1 person

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