Many moons ago there was this thread at Giantess.com about interaction regarding giantesses and shrunken men. As usual, we voiced our opinions, some with more authoritative tone than others, none with real authority, as experience in the matter is impossible. Giantesses and shrunken men don’t exist.
Hmm… I really hope I didn’t just kill one of them by typing that. Everyone, clap your hands and say, “I believe in giantesses!”
There, all better now.
Anyway, you know how it is on those threads. We state our opinions as facts, and it’s all for fun and games, and no one in their right mind really gets into an argument over density of bones and oxygen delivery and food molecule size and epidermic thickness, and truly gets angry that anyone dares differ with their vast knowledge on the matter.
As amusing as those discussions were, I will not deny that once or twice I rolled my eyes at the claims that beyond (or below) a certain height, interaction between a giantess and a man is impossible. Naturally the same goes for a woman and a shrunken man. True, there’s intelligence in basing the experience of something we imagine in certain rules we have learned about biology and the universe, but it all comes down to preference in the end.
So, a two-inch-tall man is never too small, nor is a three-inch-tall man, contrary to what was declared that day. I thought about that while I was putting this image together, but what I was mostly thinking about was balconies, and how they lend themselves wonderfully to our fantasies.
What’s the best place for a man to wait for his giantess?
Where can she pick him up with her huge hand without destroying his window frame or his front wall?
Where can he stand tiny and still reach her ear with his words as she kneels sweetly over him?
Where can he show her he’s watching while he waits for her as she walks over power lines, traffic, people and homes to go see him?
His balcony, that’s where.