A couple of nights ago I went to the mall, and nothing extraordinary happened. Nothing, except my noticing a man that was sitting alone, and staring at the screen on his phone while he clicked away. He paid attention to nothing around him. Dozens of people moving in a pulsing flow, an incessant river of flesh, and his mind was on nothing but that little screen. I slowed down my steps. I moved slowly behind him. I could’t see much of his face, but I could see his shapely legs, the strong cut of his jaw, and the shape of his head, gently haloed by very short, red hair. Now, I have a tumultuous relationship with redheads: I either love them to death, or want them dead. There’s no placid middle ground. I can’t help it. It happens. It’s color chemistry. Anyway, this man’s hair was a good red, a wanted red.

I slowly moved in a half circle around his back, and stared at his vulnerable neck. A perfect place for a needle carrying a potent shrinking potion. The beating in my chest quickened, and I swallowed hard as I forced my feet to keep moving. I could have done it. No one would have known. No one. He’d be here now, mine. I wouldn’t be typing all this. I would be too busy quieting his screams with my lips. Now, it comes to this: am I crazy? Absolutely. Not. I saw a hot guy, and he entered my fantasies. I can’t help my thoughts anymore than I can help loving / hating redheads. I might have shifted my thoughts into the thick realm of reality by circling him with my eyes, the way a lioness stares at her future lunch; but I kept going.

Last night I went to Family Video, and my guy was there. I know I said my crush on him was over, but he shaved that horrid beard, and it’s back on, baby! He wasn’t wearing plaid, but that green shirt looked perfect on him. I stared. I stared too long. I stayed there too long, looking at no videos in particular, because I was too busy circling him. After I left the store, I had to wait for my pizza to be ready at the place next door… so I sat in my car, and I stared at him. He might have felt my eyes shrink a spot on his neck, because he kept turning his head, and looking at my car. It’s my belief he could not see me, it was dark, and the windows are tinted… but he finally looked uncomfortable, and disappeared from my sight. I regret making him uncomfortable (if I did at all, this could all easily be only in my mind), but at the same time, I don’t. I was only waiting for my pizza, and staring at the only person worth a profound look. Wanting to shrink the only person I wanted to shrink at that moment. If he knew himself wanted so, I hope he’d be flattered. I don’t plan on ever finding out, but it curls up the corners of my mouth to think of him alone, small, defenseless, and in my power.

Tonight I saw quite a few people, and I wasn’t alone, so I was distracted. I still made some time to look around me, and find a perfect candidate for shrinking and kidnapping. I spotted a few good ones. The best one was the distracted one, the one who invariably glues his eyes to a shiny screen. This addiction people have, this constant craving to be connected to an electronic device, this obsession I don’t share is the perfect setup for imagining my desires coming to fruition. And one day… one day. Keep looking at your screens, little ones. Keep playing those games, checking your social media, instagramming what you had for lunch. Do it for me, because one day I’ll stand behind you, and you’ll feel the whisper of the thinnest, coldest steel enter your neck, and then you’ll know nothing but me.

15 thoughts on “Predatory

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  1. Beautiful. I love the simmering possessiveness, the gleeful domineering. Hushing his screams with your lips… so exciting. I’d love to watch it, I’d love to experience it. Crying out my concerns and horrors, being smothered in kisses and laughter instead. Right now it sounds nice.

    It’s very different to scope around for the secret giantess, which woman will accept the responsibility and joys of owning a tiny little man. Inflicting myself upon her is more easily shot down, laughed at. I’m more of an imposition than a predator.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It always sounds nice. It always is nice. Sure, you’ve lost everything, and nothing will ever be the same. Your life is no longer your own, and now you belong to a woman that has no other thought in her mind but your happiness, through hers. It’s the most delicious nightmare I could ever imagine for a man.

      Per aspera ad astra. A man seeks out that which he wants. If he found it right away, he might not value it for what it truly is. He might lose it forever, and only then come to understand what he had. Or worse, he might grow bored. I think it’s better to look for a secret giantess, and have stories to tell in between, than find her and be lost forever to your readers.

      My ill-fated search does have its rewards. I will forever seek that little man, forever find him, never find him, and in the meantime, have a thousands stories about him to tell anyone that will listen.


  2. Once again you’ve blown my mind. You’ve said things in this I will file away in my mind space as amongst the hottest things I have read. The beating in MY chest quickened as I read your words, your thoughts. My hands even trembled a little as I thought on the implications. Thank you so much for sharing this and taking me into your world. A post from you makes a very good Christmas gift indeed!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, little hopier. You are sweet beyond description. I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I hope it stays in your mind just a little while longer. Or your screen. Just look at your screen. No! Don’t look around just yet. Oh, I know you hear something… ignore it. It’s the wind. It’s a stray cat. It’s forgotten autumn leaves. It’s not steps. It’s not the rustling of silky fabric. It’s not the wielding of a syringe. It’s not swift darkness; oblivion, complete.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Once again I have fallen into your trap! Distracting me with your amazing words so you can pounce! I can’t help but notice you are somewhat Dexter like in your approach. ;) I also find myself wondering what I’ll see when I awake from the darkness.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I’ve read the books, listened to the audiotapes, watched the series obsessively. I could correct Jeff Lindsay’s writing mistakes. He lives there, for crying out loud. If you live there, don’t get the Cuban dialect wrong.

          Liked by 1 person

  3. You know, I always liked the abduction stories in this fantasy. Since it always revolves around domination, as soft as it might be with gentle kinds of giantesses, the idea fits the mood. To make him small enough to hide in her purse, or to find him when he’s already small enough to do that, take him home and do whatever she wishes because he’s too tiny and too weak to stop her.

    Now, the Family Video guy. Let’s talk about the power of suggestion. Let’s say he did feel something and that something wasn’t just you looking at him. Maybe you were staring long enough to suggest he shrinks and his body complied, maybe the next time you’re there you’ll notice he’s a tad bit shorter and it’s not because you’re wearing taller shoes. Maybe a few weeks later you won’t find him there and you’ll overhear other workers rumour about him getting sick and (this one will be spoken in whispers) that he ‘got kinda small lately, you know?’.

    Here’s the important part. I’m far from suggesting stalking, but if it’s what we think it is with him, you can’t leave the poor sap alone. Find where he lives and invite yourself in. Take off your shoes, close the door and look around. And listen for any high pitched noises, any squeaking sounds. For all we know we can’t tell how small he’s gotten, so pay attention. He might’ve stopped at 2 inches, but he could also go further. Those crumbs on the floor you wouldn’t normally pay attention to? One of them could start moving towards you. Come to think of it, it probably wouldn’t hurt to bring a magnifying glass with you, I trust you have one at home. Most of all, mind your step – what a shame it would be to waste a perfectly good shrinkee like that.

    Happy hunting.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow. That’s… you could be writing stories, balore. That was extremely enjoyable.

      There’s a spot on his neck on which I was focusing, two inches to the right of his adam’s apple. I burned a hole there, with my thoughts. Next time I see him at work, that place will be stretched out, a little red, and he’ll reach up to scratch it every few seconds.

      Unless you described exactly what happened to him. Uh, oh. I better find out his address. His name. I don’t even know his first name. Dear 2016, what have you done with name tags? What have you done with hugs? What have you done with eye contact?

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Good to hear you enjoyed it. I actually used to write some, back in the day. Very far back in the day, in fact, and not in English because I hadn’t grasped its knowledge that well yet, but I did. Now, don’t give me ideas, I might come back to it too.

    And yes, you better find him before someone else does. Not to waste an occasion like this, besides, you’re most likely the only person around him that knows how to properly take care of a shrinkee. :)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s good to hear! I hope you do, or at the very least, maybe consider letting us read your stories with the Google translator. It occasionally does a good job.

      I’m the only person in the world that knows how to properly take care of a shrinkee. Anyone else will pop him in their pie hole, make him dance with teeth, then eat him, step on him, spray him with bug poison, put a collar on him, flush him down the toilet, call him terrible names, toss him in a terrarium. Never spoil him, nor make him clothes; never cook for him, feed him, kiss him, love him, nurture his mind, or be a friend to him.

      Nah, I’m not the only one, but it’s OK if someone else finds him first. I’ll just have to steal him from her.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Occasionaly is the right word, I wouldn’t trust Google Translate with longer texts, especially not in languages with tricky rules like declensions and the like. Besides, I’ve been writing my little stories two laptops ago and I never bothered to save them, so… Oh well, should I start doing it all over again, I would write them in English for all to enjoy. Granted, they weren’t too original – it’s only natural to write about what you enjoy, so my ‘works’ were full of slow shrinking and feet and tall women turn giant in the shrinkee’s eyes and overall gentle moods peppered with occasional teasing. You know the type.

        I like what you’re suggesting. I always liked interaction despite the size difference and I’ve a soft spot for friendship. As in, romance is always nice, but stories where a giantess and a shrinkee are just good friends seem to be a rarity these days. Or maybe I just don’t know where to look for them. In any case, I also always enjoyed a casual interaction like this between two people who trust each other after years of acquaintance. Like, let’s say, childhood friends, now both adults and one just shrank for one reason or the other. I think my whole fetish is comprised of little blocks signed ‘oh yeah, I like this, it can stay’. In any case, gentle is a way to go so it’s nice to see you completely embrace it.

        Once again, good luck in your hunt. :)

        Liked by 1 person

        1. You speak madness. Madness, I tell you! What you are describing sounds wonderful! Just between you and me, I’m writing about stuff I don’t enjoy right now. In fact, I hate it. I hate what’s happening, but it’s like Legion in my head. It’s talking, and showing me things, and if I don’t call it as I see it, and cast it out with my keyboard, it might grow heads. In the meantime I’m crying, and my heart is crumbling piece after piece with what’s happening, but I can’t stop it. The fornit is fornusing.

          Look for stories of friendship between giantesses and shrunken men here, in the future. I think I need to take it in that direction now. Thank you for this astounding connective tissue of a comment. It’s grown into my mind, and it makes branches.

          When the moon comes out, I’ll still hunt… but tell no one. Shhh.

          Liked by 1 person

  5. Glad to have helped, even a little. :) It’s somewhat reassuring to feel like you inspired another person, so I thank you as well. I’ll be looking forward to those stories, as well as other kinds too. Shame you have to force yourself, assuming you see it as such, to write about things you don’t particularly enjoy, but I trust you have your reasons. And should you need another little voice in your head to suggest this and that, you know where to find me. And by where I probably mean your shoe. In any case, I think I’d fit just right in your ear, wouldn’t you agree? ;)

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Great post, good candidate for expanding to a full length story. I can see it in Best Giantess Short Stories 2016. But, what’s up with the screaming? The new guy should just relax and enjoy the best kisses he’ll ever experience. :0

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Have you ever held a tiny, bitty, shrunken man in the palm of your hand as he wails? As he trembles, and pushes, and slaps, and moans, and cries, and shouts his initial horror?

      What am I asking- of course you haven’t! There are few greater thrills. Actually, there aren’t any. He relaxes, eventually. Our minds connect as I penetrate his with intention, and he sees what I mean to do. His response can only get as bad as curiosity. Can it be possible? How does she mean to accomplish that? And I show him.

      Liked by 2 people

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