And I’m not sorry. I’m sure he deserves it, or he will some day. In the beginning, the same as in Highlander, there could be only one: one man to shrink, to keep, to love, even to marry. That was the spark that gave life to the most amazing fantasies, from their tender beginning in my mind to their explosive end in my body. Even when it was my size that changed and not his as I grew dozens, hundreds, thousands of feet, my attention was always focused on his infinitesimal shape, and the rest of the world was a mere frame, a set of accessories that came and went when he stayed.
But all that changed last year, and the manifestation of that change was almost instantaneous. We were together one night, my little guy and me in bed, when we were joined by a man my size. I would not tell you what happened next, because it was the most humiliating experience in my tiny man’s life, though we normal ones enjoyed it repeatedly… over and over again. And later, when he thought I was asleep, my new boyfriend indulged his newfound curiosity with my little toy man. It was quite a show, despite the tears and little chirps of protest.
Well, there it is. Perhaps it will mutate again; return to what it used to be and stay that way, as it was for nearly the entirety of my life. Sometimes it shifts in that direction, but right now I’m enjoying the freedom of different imaginary partners.
I remember a poll conducted years ago at Giantess.com, about the number of giantesses members fantasized about when writing, role playing, etc. I can’t recall the choices we were given, but a healthy percentage that included me selected “one”. The majority picked whatever exceeded that number, so what I’m sharing with you is hardly earth shattering, even if we don’t ignore that I’m a woman and I’m talking about more than one male partner.
These days there are two or three (this one time there were dozens, but in my defense I had grown intolerably tall and several handfuls of men were required to meet my demands) of them, and boy do we have fun! Don’t let them fool you into believing that what I sometimes force them to do isn’t fun for them, because it is. 🙂 I won’t deny my lone man returns from time to time, his tiny footsteps tentative whispers on the floor as he enters my room and wonders if tonight I will have him —and no one else— or if we will be joined by others. He always hopes I won’t force him to watch while he’s unable to participate, but even that fear doesn’t keep him from making his way back. He can’t help himself.
Neither can I.