What did you say?

What did you say?

“Hey, giantess!”

Hey is for horses.”

“Uh, OK. So…”


“I’m here!”

“So I see.”

“So… what are you going to do to me?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Dunno. Are you going to pick me up between your fingers? Put me in your mouth? I’d like that very much. And if you’re feeling frisky, you can put me down your pan-”

“Oh, fuck. Not another freak.”

“W- what?”

“Are you insane? Why would I put you in my mouth? Or anywhere else?”

“Because you are a giantess. That’s what you do.”

“You have your head stuck on Incident 109. I suggest you snap out of it. Most of us don’t do that shit.”

“Speaking of shit, I wouldn’t mind it if you take a dump on me.”


“Yeah. Just take me with you to the Great Brown, and-”

“The “great” what? Jesus, is that what you little people are calling it now?”

“Yeah. The pictures of it from space, and just the color, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess. Look, I’m not taking you with me anywhere. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. You are one of those little weirdos that get off on weird shit.”

“Oh, please. Are you going to tell me you never put any of us… you know… in there?”

“What is wrong with you? You’ve never met me in your entire life, and you just start talking to me in such a manner? How can you be so disrespectful?”


“Good. You appear to be thinking. Have a nice day.”



“My name is… er, G- Gonzo.”

“Really? ‘Gonzo’?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“I can’t tell you my real name. I’m sure you understand.”

“Why is that?”

“I have… I need to be careful about who sees me with you.”

“You do realize there are cameras on me all the time.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done anything bad yet.”

“Nor will you.”

“Oh, c’mon! Please do something to me. I don’t care what! Just touch me. Put me in your hand. Let me hump your thumb!”

“Listen, you seem like a really stupid guy, so I’m going to tell you how it is: I’m not at all interested in touching you. Ever.”

“But it’s no trouble to you! All I want is-”

“Shut up. I don’t give a fuck what you want. Now, you know we’re not supposed to kill you little worms, but I’ll make an exception for you if you don’t stop talking right now. I want you to listen to me, and then I want you to go away. If I ever see you again, I will hunt down your family, and kill them all, one by one, and I’ll make sure you get to watch me do it. Then I’ll find your friends. I can, you know? I can smell each of them on you. I’ll hunt down every scent on your body, and I’ll kill every person you’ve ever met, and talked to. I’ll crush your pets, your home, your city. I’ll destroy the things you like, the actors you prefer, the books you’ve read. If you’ve ever read a single book. I doubt it. Good. Now I have your attention. Stop crying and listen up.

I’ve lost everything. Do you understand what that feels like? You don’t. Not yet. When I grew, it happened suddenly, the same way it happened to the rest of us. I killed my children and my husband with my giant body. I didn’t mean to, but they were eating next to me at the table. They never saw me coming. I never saw me coming. Then, naked, I crouched in rubble and decay for an entire week, alone and desperate, because I couldn’t move from the pain. Neighbors ran from me, or took shots at me with their guns. I wished that had worked, but as I’m sure even someone like you knows, I can’t ever die. I was so thirsty I thought I’d surely die, but for a week I was there, alone, hearing their screams, and feeling their hate. Then I sat in a giant cage for a year, until everyone figured out we could not be stopped, and I had to help with Incident 109. Yeah, that was me.

I have no friends except those of my kind. I have to shit in a field, and every time I do, pictures of my expanding and contracting asshole hit the Internet. I can’t read my books anymore. I don’t have the job for which I studied for years. I can’t watch TV, because I’m on it all the time. No one your kind talks to me except to say stupid shit as you did, or ask me the dumbest questions. I battle the impulse to destroy you every day. I get up in the morning and I want to create something, but all I see is an occupied canvas I want to wipe clean. You are that canvas. Do you feel me now? I’m not here to entertain or get you off. When I get off, it will be with someone I pick, someone with half a brain. He will get to go in my pocket. He will be picked up and caressed and considered and loved. I will listen to his words, and pay attention to his wishes.

You? You can die now.”

* * *

Collaging Notes

Season 4/5 of Rescue Me came out many years ago, back when I was starting to blog, or already blogging. I can’t remember. I do recall seeing the ad campaign for it, and thought it looked great. I think I also wanted to do something to “fix” one of the images, and that’s what I finally got around to doing. There wasn’t much to do, since the giantess part was already done. I only added a man who had the right pose, and changed her eyes, which should always be looking at the guy, even if he’s a little jerk. Then I altered shadows and highlights so it looks like the light on him is coming from a different direction, and I added his shadow. That was the hardest part, as I had to study other shadows in the image, and make his look halfway real. I could spend more time on it, but I’m not going to. This is not exactly a collage that makes me happy. It came from a different place… not sure which one yet. It’ll come to me, as I work on the blog entry.

13 thoughts on “What did you say?

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  1. I love these “what if this was more real” reflections. I don’t subsist on them but they’re a refreshing change of pace. Emma Gear wrote one about a tiny man who lived to regret agreeing being shrunken down for an abusive giantess, I wrote one about a giantess who stomped every last vestige of human life and had nothing else to do, forever. I like it when someone steps back and looks at aspects of the fantasy and injects a little more reality into it.

    The tragedy of this piece is that, sure, it’s the little guy’s fantasy to finally have access to a gigantic woman, but he’s absolutely lacking in empathy or consideration. Like too many men today, he believes women exist for his pleasure and even owe him something in carnal terms. He has to lie about himself because he doesn’t want to be publicly shamed for what he craves, and he can only interpret this woman in terms of what he wants, with zero interest in her thoughts or history. Can’t imagine where you got the source material for this.

    Excellent writing, great dialogue. Thoroughly enjoyable.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Aborigen, so do I. I know and have read your story a couple of times. It isn’t a particularly pleasant read, but it’s satisfactory in the way of realism, and thoughts I often have, and feel sure many of us have as well. What if I grew? Right now? What are the downsides? And it all seems like downsides once I take out of the equation the fact that I would simply stomp down a path of very public self indulgence for the rest of my life… and who wants to watch a nonagenarian giantess having her dementia-riddled way with a bright and shiny building?

      As you know, I’ve dealt with the uniquely selfish among the great unwashed. People that consider me a mere abstract of their own kinks when contacting me, and feel shocked and insulted when I can no longer tolerate any input of theirs. Their existence is a given, as is, fortunately, the reality of thoughtful people, of kind and giving members of the community that make things better because they are there. People like you, my friend.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I agree with what you both are saying. Most of the giantess stories I have read over the years primarily paint the protagonist giantess as a mere sex object with little to no real character development. She is just a gratuitous plot device for the reader to indulge their lust. Yes indulging lust is a top motive I get that, but reading about giant women who have feelings, intelligence, and can interact with their tiny counterparts in complex situations increases my interest beyond the belt line. It is because of my giantess fetish that I am more aware of the great power and potential of women in general. It has forced me to realize that women are the superior gender emotionally and intellectually. I’m not afraid of their superiority, rather I stand in awe of it and am grateful to witness it everyday. My only regret is that nature decided not to go all the way and make women decidedly bigger and stronger so that men could not hurt them anymore. I can trust a giantess to be gentle…with men not so much.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. While I don’t mind that those types of stories exist… actually, not only do I not mind, but I’ve written them myself. Self-indulgent, plotless piles of words that serve one specific purpose. They are fun, but I doubt I’ll ever post them here. What I like to share here is some of the rest of that story between people of two sizes. It’s always worth telling, and it makes that world more real.

      I keep thinking maybe one day nature will reconsider, and set things right. Life would be so much easier for many women if they were just a few feet taller.


    1. I don’t see the downside to this at all, especially if a few of those billions are invested in the construction of a gigantic, sturdy, wonderful bidet:



  3. But what if the giantess keeps on growing bigger? More and more land will have to be cleared for larger toilets and bigger plumbing. Tens of thousands of workers would be required to build and constantly upgrade. A logistical nightmare for sure.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What if she does? It could go either way, really. But whatever happens, it will be her decision. In my now mind, once I reach a certain height, I don’t bother thinking about those tiny issues. There are much more fun trains of thought to pursue.


  4. I would like to work for the company that manufactures your shoes. I would like to be in quality control where I would have to be onsite to measure the foot dimensions and work with you giantesses to get feedback on the comfort and reliability of the shoes. Watching you try them on would be worth it by itself.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. It would be my dream job for sure. I would happily come to work each day to see if you have a new order or if you’ve outgrown your current pair. I would never retire.

    Liked by 1 person

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