The Flag Game – Canada


One of the reasons I love to look at the analytics on my blog is that I get to see where my readers live. Places I’ve never visited, cities I’d love to see, colorful flags I never saw when I went to school, and we had to learn all the countries. My geography teacher was strict but excellent. She made us draw the outline of countries from memory, and turn in elaborate maps as homework. I didn’t “have” to do anything, I loved to do it.

So, it’s not surprising to me that when I see your data, I study your flags, I learn the names of your cities, and I look at where you are, on a map. That has grown into telling myself stories about you. None of them real, but so what? Then, I thought I should blog about what I imagine. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize I should blog about you*. What a goofy giantess.

I’m not really sure about the format yet. All I know is that it’s a game to amuse myself, and it will include a little image with your flag, and your country (no repeaters?). If you see an image displayed, and you recognize yourself, and it makes you uncomfortable, please let me know. Try to include pictures, and Skype me a message stating your indignation. Try to use a sexy voice, preferably while shirtless.**

*Unless I know know you. I won’t violate your privacy.

**No, seriously. If it bothers you, I’ll delete it. I’m a gentle giantess, for goodness’s sake.

P.S. North Korea, I’m waiting for you.

* * *

Lucien woke up to the sound of their giggling again. It was a Saturday, he was hungover, and every loud splash and laughter made his head pound more painfully. He looked at the clock, its blue light too bright in his bedroom darkness. The sun wasn’t up yet! What sort of women go swimming in the river when it’s 38° F outside? What sort of women play with heavy currents as though they are in their own bathtub, passing boats and yatchs nothing but toys to allow by, or trap in their massive hands, if they wished? What sort of women were so inconsiderate as to wake up an entire island with their… their… their beauty, Lucien thought. Their gigantic, skinny-dipping, luscious, bountiful bodies, he continued; and hangover or not, his body began to respond.

Those giantesses! He turned on his back, and fixed his pillow under his stiff neck. Not the only stiff thing around here… He looked at himself, and over to his nightstand, where he kept a bottle of hypoallergenic, fragrance-free lotion. He was about to reach for it, when the laughter and thunderous water splashes quieted down.

Enfin!” he said loudly, and winced at the dryness of his throat. That’s too bad, he admitted to himself, just as the first tremor travelled from the ground, to his bed. Old springs chirred, and he watched the blinds on the window shake. Again. Louder, and harder. Again, and this time Lucien jumped out of bed, not knowing whether to hide under it, or flee to his closet. Again, this time his TV jumped off the wall, and crashed to the floor, mount screw holes spitting plaster. Lucien whimpered. What the hell is going on?

The answer came in the form of a deafening crunch. It was his roof. It opened up like the top of a dollhouse; wood, roofing tiles, insulation flying everywhere like dry toast crumbs. Lucien dropped to the floor, and curled into himself as well as he could, knowing that nothing could protect him, but covering his face anyway. He stayed that way for a few seconds, until he heard the last bit of plaster drop. Then he heard their breathing. Stereo- no, quadraphonic- no, all surround-sound, tornadic, and pulling him off the floor ever so slightly.

He looked up, and saw them all at once. They were smiling, their heads together as they peered into his bedroom. One giggled, and then they all did, causing another wave of debris to fall from every side of the gaping hole that was now his roof. He opened his mouth, not knowing why. What could he say? What would happen now?

6 thoughts on “The Flag Game – Canada

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    1. Very true, it’s the Internet… but in my mind, I fancy it’s me, and I’m all the way Up Here, looking down at everyone.


  1. This is dead intriguing. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I’m still forming a picture. This is a great start… oh, I hope you continue it. I’ve got to know about this island and Lucien’s casual prior knowledge of the giantesses, even though it sounds like he hadn’t expected them to find him. What can this mean? I smell a brilliant idea around the corner.

    If you get anyone from DPRK, it’s likely to be a skylarking tourist from the West, finding a break in the Koryo network between Pyongyang and Beijing, on a good day. If there were a way to tap into the collective unconscious, I would love to learn whether any of them, men or women, have their own giantess fetish…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What’s going on… well, I get these thoughts about blog visitors, and I thought I should write them. Some of them will probably be disjointed images that have nothing to do with anything else. They will be sparks that die out quickly. That’s about the size of it, so no, I’m afraid there’s nothing brilliant around the corner. Lucien may be back, or we may never hear from him again. That’s all I saw of him, and since it’s a flag game with no repeaters, I won’t write about a Canadian visitor again.

      But I’m not sure about that. How can I be sure of anything? I have no idea what I’ll want to write tomorrow, so never mind. :)

      I would love to know what they’re thinking as well! I get these visitors from places in conflict, places where women suffer terribly, and I wonder about their visits. What are they thinking? What do they want? What if they shrank? Would their reaction to seeing a giantess be different from a westerner’s?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I did read a story someone wrote about DPRK developing growth technology (by accident, of course) and raising a small squad of giantesses who simply wade across the Pacific to invade California. We’re waiting for them, of course, but they’re invulnerable to everything we have, of course.

        What concerned me had to do with the mentality of the first giantess. She was being abused by her leaders to clean out a radioactive spill in insufficient equipment. Why would she retain any loyalty to her nation, having personally discovered all its lies about technological superiority and just leadership? Well, she might if she knew her family was about to get shipped out to a kwan-li-so at the first sign of her disobedience. But don’t so many giantesses rapidly grow up to shed and betray their filial loyalties? Would she not sacrifice her own family for the greater good of dismantling Pyongyang and liberating her nation? Or does she still believe the jingoism? Even having peeked behind the curtain, would she now see herself as the key to the Motherland’s bold new future?

        It never occurred to me that women might be finding our websites and blogs. Any time I find a trail back to a conservative, fundamentalist religious theocratic state, I assume it’s young men seeking forbidden porn from the very nations they wish to destroy. It never occurred to me that it might be a young woman, curious about how women exist in the rest of the world, her imagination sparking at the thought of a gigantic, invulnerable woman emerging in the midst of her society. Or maybe that’s my imperialist conceit.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I once met someone fresh off the boat from Cuba. Her uncle was an arms dealer… somewhere, so she didn’t actually have to get on a boat to leave Cuba. Having had many conversations with Cubans about Cuba, I was surprised at her tears, and her comments on how much she missed it.

          It’s difficult, if not impossible, to forget where you are born, and replace the love you feel for your birthplace, with another love. Not impossible, and the loves can superimpose, but I guess that depends on the person, and how they function. I can easily see how a giantess might remain loyal to a destructive cause. That’s what’s true to her. It takes years to unlearn that kind of indoctrination. It takes an incredible amount of effort to plant an initial kernel of doubt in someone that believes something with all their heart. It makes for a good story.

          I’m sure it’s men, in most cases. I know it’s women, in very few. I just hope they are careful.

          Liked by 1 person

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