The guy that works at Family Video

Outlander 2014I’m not saying you spend every minute of every day thinking about this stuff, but there are some environmental factors you can’t help. Someone you see at work, or your spouse’s best friend, or that hottie behind the counter. Real people. In my case, one of those real persons is that one guy that works at Family Video. No, not the gay blonde. The other one. The tall drink of water, with the dreamy brown hair, and eyes the color of… hmm, I think they are brown. And he always wears plaid. No, not Outlander style, with the muscular thighs and the amazing six pack, but dorky style, with ill-fitting shirts and baggy pants. Wait, did I mention this guy, My Guy, the Family Video guy, is not particularly hot?

Well, he isn’t. He isn’t even my type, whatever the hell that is this week. He’s 6’5″ ft tall; his legs are long, scrawny sticks (and legs are a deal breaker for me, ladies and bugs); his “beard” is a collection of sad pubes struggling to emerge; his arms are lost inside the ever prevalent cascade of plaid that is his preferred style of fashion; his face is nothing I ever found memorable. But he’s an Environmental Factor, by god. The guy is in my head when I’m alone with my deep thoughts. Never mind I’m old enough to be his… cousin. There’s something about his voice, something inexplicable about him that makes me hear him say sexy words in my head.

In real life he might utter some such, “Didya watch the latest “Walking Dead” season yet?” But in my head he’s screaming, “No, please, I’m too small for you to do thiiiiiiiiisss!” Or “I didn’t really like “Penny Dreadful” this year, just so you know.” But in my head he’s all, “…But how did you grow so taaaall!?” Did I also mention I don’t even know his first name? It doesn’t matter. If he dragged me into the Family Video bathroom some imaginary night, I’d happily let him. And then I would tell him I’d like him to tell me how tiny he is. Describe in full detail while he gets busy. That would NEVER get awkward.

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10 thoughts on “The guy that works at Family Video

  1. I had someone like that. A very tall, full-bodied woman who rode the bus. She didn’t know she was a giantess, and she resisted all the manifestations of this power… and somehow it was up to me to educate her, train her… reconcile her to the idea…

    Eventually I figured out I had no idea what goes on in the mind of a giantess, outside of male-porn, which is very far from reality. You know, “reality”. So I had to let her keep spending money on a handbag that could’ve been cashed in for a round-trip ticket to Bali, or try out new haircuts that did not frame her face well, but who asked me, and to continue struggling against her true heritage.

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    • I love the idea of a giantess “heritage”! It has that delicious alternate universe flavor, a piquant “this is how it’s been for your people since the very beginning”. Mmm, brain likey.

      And I hear you about “reality”. I try to tell little guys that real giantesses are never crazy evil (unless I’m battling them), and they never fall (or the other f word) in love with buildings. But does anyone ever listen to me?

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      • I have informally interviewed a sequence of giantesses and tinies, and what I find is a Venn diagram that intersects on one point, but only every other day.

        Variations on theme aside, tinies seem to desire having control stripped away from them, having sex forced upon them, and by this feeling completely desired. Giantesses, however, relish illimitable agency. They want power, and they want the freedom to act unbeholden to morality or law.

        That very narrow point of crossover… only comes… when a giantess momentarily deigns to engage with the male-porn context. I’m unaware of many tinies who’ve bothered to really, really get to know their giantesses outside of this.

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  2. Ring ring Ring ring

    U – “Hello, Undersquid speaking.”

    C – “Er, hi. My name’s Carl. I’m calling about the apartment to let. The, er, room-share. Am I through to the right number?”

    U – “You are. I’m Undersquid, the person you’d be sharing with. But before we chat about the apartment, I just need to ask something.”

    C – “Is it about the requirement you put in your ad? I have to be no more than three inches in height to qualify for the apartment, is that right?”

    U – “That’s exactly right. Now I’ve been burned a few times on this already; hilarious men with tiny penises thinking they qualify. So before we go on, do you fill the height requirement or do you just ‘have three inches for me right here’”?

    C – “Oh I definitely qualify. I’m exactly two and two eighths of an inch tall. I’m actually the biggest in my family. My brother’s only two and one eighth of an inch tall.”

    U – “OK great, finally! So, Carl, when you say you’re two and two eighths of an inch tall, what do you mean exactly?”

    C – “I’m sorry?”

    U – “Let’s imagine for a moment that I don’t understand measurements or numbers, so I need you to explain to me how tall you are using… different words.”

    C – “Well I… er. Well on a typical woman I’m just a bit shorter than her thumb, but usually a touch longer than her big toe. Does that help?”

    U – “That’s very good, yes, but keep going. Are you so small that I’d barely be able to see you at all?”

    C – “No, I’m quite visible.”

    U – “But only just, right? I mean, I’d have to use a magnifying glass or something, yes?”

    C – “Well I guess if you wanted to see me in detail you would.”

    U – “Good. Keep going.”

    C – “What, keep telling you how small I am?”

    U – “Yes. It’s very important if we’re going to live together that I know exactly how small you are.”

    C – “Well, erm, OK. Er… if you’re wearing shoes then I’ll probably be a bit taller than the flat part of them. My legs are about an inch long so I can walk about, say, seventy metres in an hour.”

    U – “Ooh, seventy metres you say? That is far.”

    C – “Thank you, that’s what I always say. But my ex always complained that after an hour’s walk, she’d be three miles away and I’d still be on our street.”

    U – “Well she sounds like an idiot. Let’s just forget about her. Never mention her again. So you’re single then?”

    C – “I am, for quite a while now. Women aren’t that into a guy my size.”

    U – “Oh I wouldn’t say that, Carl. I’m sure you’re very desirable. But don’t let me interrupt – you were saying…”

    C – “I was?”

    U – “About how small you are.”

    C – “Oh, right. Well I’m not sure what else I can say.”

    U – “Come on Carl, don’t let me down. Try comparing yourself to me, for example.”

    C – “Well we haven’t met, but as you say you’re the typical height for a woman, I’d say that compared to you I’m just a speck really, a miniscule particle of a man. Just a molecule really.”

    U – “Yes that’s it. Go on.”

    C – “Well you could hold me in the palm of your hand and be barely able to even feel me there. I could fight or struggle against your grasp but wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

    U – “Mmmmmmm, yes, not a chance.”

    C – “My clothes would shred between your fingers, and you could do absolutely anything you wanted to me.”

    U – “Oh I could… I would.”

    C – “Then when you were done you could walk away from me and my little legs could run after you as fast as they could, but for me it would be like chasing the sun the across the sky. I could never catch up until you came around again and shone your light down on me.”

    U – “That’s it, mmmmmmmm. I’m the sun.”

    C – “Yes you are, and I’m like a tiny distant moon orbiting you.”

    U – “Oh Carl, the apartment’s yours. When are you coming? Now?”

    C – “Er wait. I haven’t got to ask any questions.”

    U – sigh “OK, ask away.”

    C – “Well, most importantly, what’s the rent? I don’t have a lot of money you see.”

    U – “Money? Oh don’t worry about that. I’m sure we can work something out? Payment in kind if you will. Say, are you very strong Carl?”

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