Temptation, Frustration

So bad it makes me cry. Wet bus stop; no one’s waiting. My car is cold and dry.

Alright, my car is not warm, and it was washed tonight, and it’s probably dry, so that’s the only thing that’s true about that sentence. That and the frustration. Because it is frustrating to have these fantasies, and know they will never come true. I know it’s hard. What makes it easy to suffer that frustration? For some of you, there’s alcohol. Some of you are lucky enough to bring it to life with your significant others. Others of you don’t care that none of it is real, and never will be, because there’s enough porn out there to keep you satisfied. The rest of you? The rest of us.

The rest of me sometimes wishes I could stop thinking about this stuff. Only sometimes. Maybe twice? No, it’s been more than twice… but the rest of the time I love my mind, and I’m glad I’m this way. Sure, my brain comes with a price, and I pay it every day. Every day I think how wonderful it would be to have the power to shrink, whenever I want. Can you understand the ramifications? I would never have to do yard work again. Weeds? Shrunken to a microscopic level. Unruly tree sprouts I neglect for a whole season and have a chance to grow a bit? Shrunken to a minuscule degree. The same goes for chores. Mold on bread? Boom, shrink ray. Well, now that just sounds lazy.

I would not make my shrinking abilities a crutch I’d use to face difficulties (as in, shrink them so I don’t have to face them); but you have to admit it would save me a lot of time and anguish. Someone talks while I’m at the theater trying to watch a movie? Shrunk for two hours. Someone tailgates me when we’re in a school zone and the speed limit is one yard per lifetime? Shrunk while driving, fucker. Someone drives and texts? Shrunk for a fucking year, asshole. Go endanger no one’s life, while you’re at it.

And of course, I’d shrink that one person I want to keep forever as my tiny man. As to the title of this entry, it stems from the truth of the matter. I’ll never be able to do it. I know, I know. Some of you have dealt with that truth with a fair amount of equanimity. You have your life, your work, your hobbies, someone that loves you and puts up with your shit, your children, your pets, etc. So you read what I type and you say, “C’mon, Undersquid, stop whining about the same thing all the time. You’ll never shrink anyone, you’ll never own anyone.”

I know. But I WANT TO. Frustrating. I get up every day just like you, and I live my life, just like you. I do what needs to be done. I take care of what needs to be taken care of. I pay my bills, I hug my son, I call my mother. But at the end of the daily line I want that tiny man I can grab and bring close to my face as I tell him, “You are the best part of my day. You are the oil in my engine. You are what gets me up in the morning, and brings me to bed every night. You, my sex toy. This is why I shrank you, and this is why you belong to me.”

Frustrating that I can’t do that. If I could, I would, and one of you billions of men in the world would find himself in my fist one day. One of you. I keep saying his opinion wouldn’t matter when the time comes to be shrunken… but it kinda does. Who wants to get up in the morning to have sex, and have this to look forward to?


Not me. Not really. After all the screaming is done, I want a tiny man that doesn’t collapse at the prospect of being what I make of him. I want clay that keeps its shape. I want I want I want. I’m not stupid. I know I’ll never have what I want. In the meantime, I’ll keep writing, I’ll keep having friends, I’ll keep loving my son, I’ll keep getting up in the morning, I’ll keep trying to be a better person, I’ll get my citizenship so I can vote next time and make little difference just like most of us, I’ll get groceries and try to be a good example for my son. I’ll forgive and forget, I’ll love and I’ll hate, I’ll cry and laugh. I’ll live.

But it’s frustrating.

7 thoughts on “Temptation, Frustration

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  1. Hoo boy, I totally get this feeling. Call it “anguish”, a deep and abiding yearning, an insatiable hunger, an itch that can never be scratched. A book I read as a kid (The Tar-Aiym Krang) has two characters crying out “Up the universe!” which I’ve amended to “F the universe, and the horse it rode in on!” But you get the universe you have, not the one you want. In my case that’s doubtless for the best, considering the tendency of my fantasy to dabble in moral and ethical issues that would have the priest throttling me in the confessional. The only cure is to imagine one’s desires with unremitting ferocity. And plot how to exchange places with a doppelganger in an alternate reality who has everything we want… :p

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah, but that throat-grabbing priest probably has some dirty secrets of his own… though having been raised in a cult, I can say that guilt assignment and throttling are not exclusive of a catholic confessional booth.

      I love the doppelgänger notion! I imagine mine opens a doorway and gifts me with a shrinking formula or lets me use her universe-encompassing passages so I may accomplish what I desire. I’d be happy to tell the priest all about it, just to watch him turn white.

      But not as white as he’ll turn when–as I like to think you’re planning–one of your stories is read during your wake. But who knows. Maybe he’ll smile complicitly and fondly look back at memories of his own browser history.


  2. I too struggle with this mightily. I even find myself questioning God as to why He made women superior to men in every way except in size and strength….the only traits, by the way, that can enable men to control women.

    My solution is I play the role of Imaginer the “creator of giantesses” in my mind. I have created a fictional universe where a race of giant women ruled by an omnipotent queen giantess goes from planet to planet conquering worlds ruled by men. When the “Femdomians” arrive, they immediately grow the female population to 15 feet and place them in charge. Along with the size upgrade they are trained how to use advanced Femdomian technology and are enlisted in Queen Hathor’s ever growing imperial forces. If worlds prove difficult to conquer, Hathor sends in her 100 foot Titanesses who always crush the opposition. I know it sounds silly but I have fun with it. But I can’t put this fantasy to paper lest my wife were to find it lol.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. No, it doesn’t sound silly at all. One day you should put it to paper! Your stories sound exactly like what many of us have envisioned. I include myself as I’ve pictured a similar universe, where 200’ tall women arrive or grow, and straighten everything out.

      I’ve also imagined my own army of killer robots, but never mind that. :)

      You can always tell your wife the truth: you have stories in your head, and have decided to try your hand at speculative fiction.


  3. I wish I could but she would be embarrassed by such stories as she doesn’t understand our fetish. She knows I’m into taller women and that I have a foot fetish but macrophilia she would never accept as “okay.”


  4. Interesting thoughts. I think my worst frustrations came about in the years 1995 to 2005. Diminished now, but always there. We will live. :) By the way, thanks for those Police lyrics that took me a whole day to figure out. Next time, ‘Walking on the Moon’?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, we will live, though I think always with those feelings. Every once in a while I wonder if medication would help, and then I realize how glib I’m being. I don’t have a “real” problem in my fantasies, and it’s certainly not something for which I need treatment.

      I’m happy someone saw my nod to The Police. Next time, “Every Breath You Take”, on endless replay as my protagonist holds a Bluetooth speaker over her head, and waits for her shrunken man to peek out of a window in the dollhouse.


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