Fortune 50

Years ago I had a fun idea: I wanted to make my own fortune cookies and slip homemade size fortunes into them. It might have been a gift idea at the time, though now I think I just wanted to have fun composing the fortunes. I’ve been collecting the ones I get from the cookies in my Chinese-food takeout; I don’t eat the cookies but knew I wanted to do something with the pieces of paper in them.

That something is this series of vignettes inspired by those scraps of paper I’ve accumulated. I don’t have an apt name for it yet, but something will come up. Or maybe I’ll just add it to my Project Clusterfluff effort. I know! I’ll call the series Fortune 50. And I’ll write fifty! Coincidence? Yes. Also, some of these vignettes have very explicit material. Watch out for the dirty words.

Fortune-1aThe cargo carrier arrived at portal ANSP-02 and parked itself at a docking station. Border patrol agents didn’t need to board it to scan its contents, and the ship’s manifest was clear; there were five thousand souls on board, all in hibernation capsules for the long trip to Earth II. There were a total of six portal jumps, and it didn’t matter that the carrier had already been inspected. Agents Thom and Verminter took their jobs very seriously.

“Don’t skim over the male passengers.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job. I don’t take shortcuts.”

“I know. Sorry, I don’t want to miss a thing. That they sent down the order for additional human-based scans makes me wonder if they think the automated imaging sifters will fail at catching any of those little fuckers.”

“I doubt it. If one of them gets through, we’re all screwed. We’d all end up the size of roaches in less than twenty-four hours.”

”Not all of us… just the men. If it happened on Earth despite all the precautions… fuck, I don’t want to think about it.”

Agent Thom stopped swiping imaging reports and focused on a whole-body z-ray of a female passenger. “Verminter, take a look at MP-357. The z-ray.”

Verminter found the scan. “What am I looking at?”

“Look at the first metacarpal bone. Look at the shape in it. The outline.”

“Christ. Is that what I think it is?”

“It is. It’s one of those little shits.”

They both stared at their own screens, horrified at the same image. “How do you get twisted so wrong? This bitch intentionally put one of those things inside her body, with the intention of infecting an entire planet.”

”And she failed. I’m telling you, this is a perfect argument for a male-only population on Earth II. We have pussy robots and our own assholes. You can’t trust bitches anymore. They all want us tiny.”

”This is going to be a long day.”

“Let’s go. They want us to get rid of all contaminated pods manually.”

Twenty minutes after pod MP-357 was ejected into space, a two-inch tall man emerged from a bloody opening in his host’s thumb. She was programmed to sleep through the procedure as he unhooked himself from the biological breathing and feeding tubes attached to her lungs and circulatory system.

After cauterizing the wound, he moved slowly around her body and collected all the components necessary to assemble the terminal he needed to run diagnostics and determine his situation.

That he was awake meant something had gone very wrong. He’d been spotted, his–their–pod had been jettisoned into space, the dormancy of his host was compromised, and he had less than a day to assemble his short-range transport from parts camouflaged in the pod. He was not unaffected at having to leave her to freeze in the infinite cold, but the mission was more important than her life.

I wish I could save you, comrade. How about I make it back to the carrier? I’ll honor your sacrifice by remaining hidden the rest of the trip, and by saving your sisters on Earth II. All I have to do… is take a single breath there.


Fortune-1bThe giantess waited sitting cross-legged on the grass as orderlies started bringing out the nursing home patients, most of them in wheelchairs. The spacious garden where she had set up her work area was surrounded by a tall privacy fence. While that didn’t make a difference to the two-hundred-foot-tall woman, it mattered to some of the patients who still had their cognitive faculties intact. To one side of her, she had placed a large tank that was currently filling with hot water. Every few minutes she’d switch the water source to cold for a few seconds, as she didn’t want to scald the delicate skin of the people she bathed every other day. That the faucet handle was normal-sized didn’t matter; she made the adjustments with a practiced hand.

To the other side of her, there was a table covered with folded towels warming in the sun. A six-foot-tall pump filled with an all-purpose body soap completed the setup. The first patient of the day was wheeled up to her.

“Hello, Mister Salazar!” Her voice was a whisper, yet the quadriplegic man in the wheelchair was visibly upset. “May I call you Jeff now?” As she pinched his seat between thumb and forefinger and lifted it to her cupped hand, she felt his scathing look. There was nothing she could do about the hate but keep working. Once she pressed the chair to her awaiting palm and felt the slight body slip gently into it, she tilted it upwards and stared at the body curled to its side. She started working his robe free. Jeff began to call her the worst names he had learned during the war. She’d heard it all.

“Come now, Mr. Salazar! I never did any such thing to a building. There were some of us that did… yes. But that was over sixty years ago,” she added, her voice still muted, yet the breeze of her breath stirred every tree and hedge in the facility. She dipped her Jeffless hand in the tank and cupped warm water in it, which she then brought up to Jeff. She doused him so gently he never missed a beat as he continued to attack her verbally.

She began to purr at precisely sixty-five decibels, at the same time that she lathered every inch of Jeff’s wrinkled body with soap. The effect was immediate. Jeff fell so profoundly into slumber she was able to tug at his little limbs, working the soap deep into every nook without waking him up. She then repeated her water collection and rinsed him clean. Her favorite part was drying the little bodies.

With carefully applied thumb and fingerpads, she picked up a warm bath towel, and patted his body dry, adding her breath to the equation. It wasn’t allowed—she knew that—but who’d stop her? Giantess breath had healing properties, and it might never give Jeff back his mind, but it would stop most of his aches for a day or two. Once his body was dry, a cute nurse brought the giantess a clean set of clothes that included an impossible small—to her—adult diaper. Diapers were tricky, but not for her; she unfolded it and slipped it up Jeff’s scrawny, useless legs until it was in place.

A memory of doing the reverse to her old love came to mind. It had been the tiniest pair of boxers then, and she had always intended to rip them. He had aged; she hadn’t. He had passed on; she might, in a few thousand years. The nurse held up a madras shirt and gray sweatpants that took her less than two minutes to put on Jeff.

“Until your next bath, sweet man. Sleep well, and try not to hate me too much.”



Dillon was in bed, staring at his long-time girlfriend as she sat in front of the mirror, her skin damp after her shower. Melissa slowly applied a light coat of makeup, enjoying the attention of her boyfriend.

“Come back to bed.”

“Behave yourself. You know I have to get there before the good peaches sell out. I want to make a pie for tonight’s dinner at Mom’s.”

“That woman won’t appreciate your pie. I appreciate your pie. Very deeply. I’ll lick every bit of it if you just come back to bed.”

Melissa stood up, allowing her wrap to fall off her shoulders as she walked to the closet. She bent and stretched and posed as she slipped on her panties and bra, and a shirt and the tightest pair of jeans in existence. Dillon had pitched a tent under the sheets, an unforgiving height that made Melissa rethink her plans.

No. I want to bake a pie. And I’ve been waiting for peaches to come in! She sighed and shook her head. “Save some of that for me, will you? I’ll be back in a couple of hours. You boys be good.” She blew Dillon a kiss instead of pressing one on his forehead as he might have grabbed her then, and made her forget everything about the farmer’s market, and impressive produce, and a fun weekend baking her favorite dessert.

Dillon waited until he heard her drive off, pulled the covers off his muscular body, and began to stroke his magnificent shaft slowly, without purpose. After ten minutes of that, he was sure Melissa hadn’t forgotten anything, and would not rush back in a surprise return.

Dillon got out of bed wearing nothing but his turgid cock as it led the way to his girlfriend’s dollhouse. It sat on a coffee table, and when he unhinged the roof and pulled it back, he pressed against the front of the tiny house with his powerful thighs. His penis bent against the structure, but not before pushing it back an inch.

“Good morning, dildo.”

The dildo was a three-inch-tall man that had been sleeping at some point but now sat up in alarm, in a very tiny bed.

“Wha–what are you doing?! Go away! You know I have a name. You better use it, or I’ll tell Melissa!”

“That’s the plan.”

“What? What do you mean by that? You know what, I don’t care! Put down my roof and leave me alone.”

“The plan, dildo, is to use it.” Dillon reached into the dollhouse with his cock-scented hand, trapping a terrified shrunken man in a rough grip. He walked with the squirming handful swinging like a pendulum with each stride until he returned to Melissa’s bed.

He was on his back once more when he released his grasp on the little form and let it plummet to his washboard stomach. The tiny man was furious.

“You stupid fuck! How dare you? You’re never to touch me! She told you to never lay a finger on me. Now you’re in deep shit, you realize? She’s gonna kill you. You’re dead.”

“Suck my cock.”


“Dildo, don’t make me tell you again. If I have to tell you again, I’ll just do it myself.”

“Fine, then just do it yourself. I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”


“Stop calling me that! My name is—”

“Dildo, I’ll do it myself with your body wrapped around the tip of my cock.”

“No. Oh, please, no! You’ve gone far enough. You promised Melissa!”

“What a tiny brain you have. Melissa made me promise never to hurt you. And this won’t hurt at all.”

Dillon pinched the man’s body and carried him to his penis, where a copious amount of pre-cum spurted onto his little chest. Dillon let out a grunt as he swirled the man in the sticky transparency. “Hold on to the tip. Wrap your arms around it, and don’t fucking let go.”

“Fuck you!” He sputtered and gagged before he added,”I’ll never ever—”

“Yes, fuck me. Fuck me or I’ll kill you. Sure, Melissa would be mad for a while, but then she’d go out and shrink another one of you. Look at you, so skinny and weak. Put your limbs to good use and wrap yourself around my cock. I’ll do the rest.”

The little man did nothing, and Dillon didn’t kill him, but he did press his body around every sensitive inch of his member and pumped it energetically until cum erupted and coated the man from head to toe. When Dillon placed him—very gently—back in the dollhouse, he was still soaked in it, and a creamy dollop came splattering down Dillon’s hand and onto his bed. He was whimpering when Dillon stomped away to take a shower. But he was unhurt.



I was outside repairing a truss component when it happened. I was facing Earth, and one moment I was opening a panel, and the next I see the atmosphere below do this swirl, and it was like seeing a rocket take off from above, except this rocket was made of flesh, a body that shot up 250 miles into space, and never left the ground. I’m meticulous when it comes to spacewalks. I’m careful when it comes to anything, but I rushed back to the airlock like I was on fire, and not all those millions of people down below.

Everyone was screaming in my helmet. Our excellent Russian colleagues, and astronaut Gerst, from Germany. He’s a doctor, but he demands we call him “astronaut” now… the six of us were screaming. I looked back and saw him reach full height. He must have been a state’s distance away, but my mind kept telling me it wasn’t possible; that this naked dude was not standing on Earth with feet the size of a few counties and laughing his ass off.

I couldn’t hear him, but I saw his head flip back a ways, like growing so fast was giving him whiplash, and then I couldn’t look anymore because I was shitting my astronaut diaper. When I finally made it back in, I was told we were about to be hit by space debris pushed our way by that monster’s growth. There was nothing we could do. We could have moved a little, but there was no getting “out of the way.” And that’s when we saw the other giant. That’s when I knew it was all over for everyone down there.

Some of us didn’t think so. Sergey thought one of them was good and would fight and destroy the evil one. He felt that for about thirty seconds because those two started fucking right away, right where the Grand Canyon used to be. They fucked for a while, taking turns being top and bottom, and then they walked over to the ocean from the Southwest and splashed water on each other. I doubt it reached their ankles.

They walked around plenty in the beginning, but they liked lying down a lot, and not only to fuck. All the air is down there, and as dusty and fiery as it got, there was still some left. I wish they’d walked right into us at some point or another, but they never did. In fact, yesterday one of them saw the Station, and I thought he was going to flick it into the Moon, but he just stood there, looking at us. I wish he’d swallowed us. That was last week.

Now they are playing this fucked up game that’s so much worse than any death. I bet the giant that stared at us thought it would be funny to kill us with a cum wad, because every time we orbit over them, they are jerking off and seeing which one of them shoots his load high enough to hit us. The waiting is the worst part. It doesn’t even bother me to look at them anymore. It’s like I’m dead inside already.

Dr. Auñon thinks it’s possible, and she stares down at them every time. I think she’s praying they will. The station was boosted to a slightly higher orbit when those two grew, and we were already at eye level to them. Who the hell hits the ceiling when they masturbate? No one, that’s who. We’re gonna starve long before we’re destroyed by projectile cu—.


The giantess disregarded every law that dictated she stay outside city limits as she stepped over homes and offices, grazed buildings, cracked streets, stumbled over power lines, and caused blackouts. When she reached her destination there were twenty-four police cars chasing her, seriously staggered among the people that were chasing her that had nothing to do with law enforcement, and those came in all creeds.

There were the intolerant, violently deranged gun owners that began to shoot at her the moment she stood over the suburban home, effecting no change in her skin but a slight irritation; there were the equally passionate gun-owning giantess lovers that began to take aim at the hate-filled ones; there were the self-appointed vigilantes that started shouting at her. She broke her gaze from the house (its legal occupants fully awake now and huddled in the basement, having realized that a giantess was looming over their home) and looked in every direction, her face expressionless until she looked down again. Then she started to sing, true emotion in every word, her voice rising over the screams, the sirens, the alarms, the megaphoned words, the barks, and cries.

“If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I’ll go but I know
I’ll think of you every step of the way

And Iiiiiiiii…”

For the first forty seconds of the song all guns were quiet, all screams ceased, and all officers stopped barking orders. When she hit the high notes to which her voice could not do credit, everyone around her started in on her again.

“Shut up!”

“You can’t sing!”

“You don’t belong here!”

“Giantess X-09, you are in direct violation of Directive 101. You need to leave the city immediately! And stop singing, for crying out loud!”

“Will always love you, ooh
Will always love you
My darling, you…

Bittersweet memories…”

The couple in the house seemed to have lost some of their fear and peered out of living room window. The wife seemed upset at her husband, and soon they were involved in a domestic altercation that distracted a couple of the police officers into approaching the house. Even as they walked toward it they covered their ears.

“Jesus Christ, shut your damn mouth!”

“That is all I’m taking with me.
So good-bye.
Please don’t cry:
We both know I’m not what you, you need”

That’s the precise moment the wife came out brandishing a fireplace poker over her head, her husband in tow, his tone quite different as he tried to hold her back, saying unintelligible things to her. “You stay away from my husband, you floozy! You harlot! How dare you! How long has this been going on! And right over my roof! You despicable monster!”

The giantess seemed both puzzled and amused, but went on, undeterred. Now her singing became twice as loud, and no gun owner could have held themselves together long enough to take aim, because they were all busy covering their ears and screaming.

“And I… will always love you
I… will always love you
You, ooh

I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you’ve dreamed of
And I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this I wish you—”

She stopped suddenly, and that’s when the gun toters, all of them, started shooting at her. Everyone else was either tackling and arresting those that had fired their weapons, or trying to stop their ears from bleeding. The wife had collapsed on the sidewalk, wailing because her dear husband was leaving her for this giant hussy, when she noticed a most unusual sight.

On the sidewalk, walking toward the giantess, was the smallest man she’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been taller than two inches, and he seemed to have emerged from her home. The giantess began to bend over, slowly so as not to make any wind that might blow him away. Everyone scattered away from the arrival of her fingertip to the ground. It seemed to touch it, and when it lifted away, the little man was gone. The giantess turned away, seemingly done disturbing the peace of that city’s fine citizens.

But not entirely. She appeared to be talking to herself. Or to her forefinger. Laughing. Sometimes crying.

“I know, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

“Years, I know. But you can see I couldn’t simply lift every home and look under to see if you were there, could I!”

“Oh, they seem like horrible people! And you are very brave to have stayed hidden in their home for so long.”

“Yes, I remember what you were asking when it happened.”

“The answer is yes.”

2 thoughts on “Fortune 50

Add yours

  1. Loving this, because you are going in so many different directions. I hope each one becomes a full-fledged story.

    I haven’t found a way to get a notification each time you add to this, so I’m just checking it periodically (no great burden, but it might distort your hit counter if you care about such things).

    (Trying very hard not to order a T-shirt that says “I appreciate your pie”)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Olo. That’s exactly my aim, many directions. There’s a very high probability some of these will become actual stories.

      I’m planning to do five at a time for a total of ten posts, so there will only be one more addition to this post, and the rest will be added in subsequent entries.

      Get the shirt! Actually, I should listen to myself and be brave enough to get the Size-related shirts I’ve wanted to get for years.


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