It’s still Saturday, so that means…


Get up there little guy On the double
Get up there, little guy! On the double!

Two years after posting this collage I don’t have very much to say about this topic as I once did, and communicating anything about it will not reveal anything new. We all know punishing a tiny man or normal -sized people always amounts to foreplay; whatever happens invariably gets someone off.

In any case, the shrunken man in this collage doesn’t even appear to suffer, but then again suffering is always subtext open to interpretation and preference, even when the subject is being smeared into paste on the floor by the “giant” sole of a woman’s shoe. That poor sod probably orgasmed as he died. Or so we tell ourselves, because that’s what we’re doing. (Not me we, but you we. I don’t get off on death; I imagine death as a carpet stain when I’m truly angry, but not as a method to my madness.)

Then… exactly what sort of suffering do I like when I like it? My taste shifts but not too widely: there’s enjoyment of a small man’s real (but temporary) physical suffering,  humiliation, emotional distress, and that enjoyment continues as my little man regains his rightful place as beloved and satisfied consort or pet.

Example: After my shrunken man goes to sleep in the dollhouse, I leave the house and soon return with a man my size. Before I left I made sure that every window and door in his tiny home is sealed shut, so he can’t escape. He’s forced to watch what I do with another man, to listen to every thunderous moan and grunt, to strain for balance as his home rocks on the floor to the beat of something he protests with screams, fists, kicks, and possibly tears. All to no avail. Eventually the “giant” leaves, of course.

There’s also the enjoyment of a small man’s imagined suffering, but he’s having as much fun as I am. No one has ever died of being teased to death, after all. Do I get to call it punishment anyway? Of course! There is that period of minutes, hours, days, during which a shrunken man is not allowed to touch, to feel, to stroke that very thing he wants to the most. Again he cries, he screams, kicks, punches and protests, with nothing to show for his fits but deafening laughter and increased teasing. It’s sheer torture for him.

Not for me! I’ve been having all sorts of obvious fun up here, by myself.

And there’s the relationshippy punishment, almost entirely removed from raw sexuality, at least in appearance. My little guy thinks he can sneak a cookie without my finding out when I’ve told him he can only eat what I feed him? Punishment! Naked, now he must climb that thick rope that’s my shirt lace, and lose those confounded micrograms hanging on to his sides.

My little guy thinks he can leave me proof of how much he enjoys the smell of my garments? Or my shoes? And he thinks I won’t notice it? Punishment! Now he has to stay there while I wear that garment or sandal all day long. Naked!

What a difficult life he leads.

Collaging Notes

This is one of the collages that has taken me the longest to finish, not because it was difficult to put together, but it was labor intensive. Nowadays I doubt I’d start something so laborious, but back then I was amused by what I remember was the theme of it. I saved the woman’s image in Feb. 2006, thinking I would quickly find a suitable man to match her, but it took over a year to spot and save an image of a man climbing a rope.

I also got rid of the background almost completely. I kept the fence, got rid of the man that was leaning against it, and replace the ground with a nice garden. I can’t tell you how often I used the clone tool. I finished it nearly two years later, after a seeming interminable editing of shadows and light, of blurring and sharpening, until it felt done. Now I look at it and would like to change a few things, but I never will. I can probably say that about every collage I’ve finished, so it’s pointless to look back, especially when I have over a hundred unfinished works to complete.

One of the things I like about this collage is the ethnicity of the characters. It’s already hard to find elements that fit the task of selecting them for heavy modification for these collages. It’s even more grueling to unearth those I’d like having a much deeper shade and atypical beauty.

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