Undertoy – 1

How it happened…

This time DeviantArt is to blame. There I was, minding my own business, when I saw this mention. I checked it out, contacted the author, and thought I might not be able to fulfill requirements as to time constrictions, etc. But Flagg3D responded quite amicably, and generously, to a remarkable degree. The short version is: He wants a number of authors to write a very particular type of story for him, and in turn he offers various types of  exchange. I chose to ask him to create images of my little muse Hopier and me. I wanted to write short scenes to accompany them. Here’s the first pairing of both the image and words he inspires.

under_toy_1_by_flagg3d
Under_Toy_1 by Flagg3D

“You should be used to this by now, my beautiful toy.”

Her beautiful toy tried to think of something else to say, but he knew how it always went. She put him where she wanted to, where she needed him, and it didn’t matter that he tried to explain there was truly no valid reason he should ever be kept in the back pocket of an extraordinarily tight pair of jeans. It didn’t matter how many times he explained how dangerous it was for his tiny shape to be kept in such a precarious place.

“What if you bump into something? What if you fall? Then you’ll only be able to launder me off your jeans. How will you feel then, without your toy?”

She only smiled and dismissed his chirps as foolishness with a wave of her hand that only delayed her grabbing him for a fraction of a second. His attempting to run when he spotted the predatory shape of her hand swooping down to catch him was only a courtesy to her. He knew she liked feeble attempts at escaping. Once his world became the flesh of her palm, he could not see her smile as she pivoted at the waist, he could not see it as she continued to smile, and hooked her thumb into the triple-fold stitched top of her jean pocket. And he could not see her smile, but always swore he could feel the message of it through the bones and articulations of her hand as she slipped two thirds of him into that impossibly thick fabric, and allowed the rest of him to catch his breath, and see the light again. See how high he was.

“But, my giantess… what about-“ My head, he would have finished. What about my shoulders, left out for birds to pick at, or maybe a greedy thief that spots me in the crowd, and gets close enough to snatch me-

His thoughts were always punctuated by the sway of her hips as she took off. She always did that! She always left him out there, enough of him out there to feel what happened when she walked. The roundness she had carefully cultivated with years of exercise alternated with a healthy enjoyment of food… and genetics. He blessed and cursed those genes, and those jeans, as the massive sway of her hips generated an unbearable jiggle that breathed a rhythm in between the pocket and the insignificant gap his shape created. As a result, he slipped. Slowly. Fractionally.

Another giant step, another quaking wave of flesh thrusting out at him, and another aftermath. He continued to sink. He tried to move, only making it worse by accidentally timing his struggle with another rippling attack of her hips. He sank faster, again, and again, until he was deep in the hold of that stretch of fabric. His head, forced into an unnatural turn, his cheeks pressed together in imitation of her cheeks, out there, all out there, everything out there, winning that day’s war against her jeans. Genes vs. jeans. And she always wins, he thought last, before nature overtook him.

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10 thoughts on “Undertoy – 1

    • They are. They are a little addictive, and I’m probably taking on more than I can handle, but I won’t claim so until I collapse. Which I doubt I will. Bouncing creativity back and forth is the least stressful… actually, it isn’t stressful at all, as far as Internet activities go.

      He’s an artist, no doubt. And there’s much fun to be had with the rest of the images soon to be published.

      Like

    • The choice of ever getting used to anything is no longer a burden for you. You simply do. And you are allowed to faint, of course. I’m nothing but the personification of leniency, kindness, and patience. To a point.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Actually, I created those “complaints”. I see everything he does, and I write everything he does. Everything he says and does in my fiction is exactly what I want him to do. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

      And in my stories, he always finds a place of gratitude, a time of realization regarding his extremely advantageous place in my scheme of things.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Fascinating work. Both characters are so strong, the little guy with his concerns and desperation, the huge woman with her nonchalance and self-interest. He gives her the courtesy of performing an escape, and she permits him to indulge in the lavishness of her person. There’s this unique give-and-take at work between them, yet he has no control whatsoever. He only gets to enjoy her if he submits wholly to her whim and judgment, and even then he doesn’t get all of what he wants, just a reflection of it. Yet… judging by the way he responds, this is perhaps what he really, actually wants.

    You create a wonderfully rollicking vignette, bouncy and rounded as the giantess’s prominent focus. The reader is brought clearly into the little man’s perspective and tunes in to everything the giantess broadcasts. This is tantalizing and delightful, what you’ve done here, and kudos to Flagg3D for his always fantastic work.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Aborigen! I’m very happy with the images Flagg3D has created, and that joy is compounded by my sinking into them, and writing what I feel and hear taking place in them.

      My little guy knows exactly what’s in store for him. He knows he exists as the center of my universe. In my stories, I never put him in conventional danger, and in that give-and-take you mention, he always gets what he wants by giving me what I want. It’s how I’ve always imagined it. It always seems amusing to me when I read that he has no control. He has the control. I’d never have my character tell him that… unless caught off guard, or drunk, or super sleepy… but he’s the one pulling the strings.

      I don’t imagine my character would ever confess that to him. He wouldn’t know what to do with that power. So, shh. Nobody say nothing.

      Liked by 2 people

    • Why am I not surprised! LOL

      It is fun. That’s why I’m not surprised. I hope she caught a glimpse of the truth in this… nonconformity. That it’s the best one to have; that it could have been much, much worse (say, you could have been born with an affinity for pretending to be period furniture); that it’s the cutest fetish there can be.

      Well, most of the time.

      Thank you!

      Like

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