The beautiful man smiled as his foot descended upon the dark asphalt, displacing its upper layer like finger paint in the hands of a young child. He curved his toes into the surface, and felt it yield like paste. He chuckled to himself, feeling the pleasant vibration of his chest travel up and down his body. He was happy. The screams made him happy. He reached for the building to his left, and caressed its tough corner with his left hand. His right made a fist, which he lifted back and then swung forward, delivering a powerful punch that seemed to fold in the previously straight corner, destabilizing the structure until it keeled over in front of him. Now he laughed heartily.

He looked down as he stepped forward, aiming the ball of his shapely foot toward a parked car, tomato red. He imagined there was someone still in it, maybe a couple. A couple fucking. A couple making out, excited to watch a giant like him tear down their streets; a couple that didn’t care he was about to turn them into paste. He brought down his foot, and the metal that had been shaped into a car was flattened against the dark grey. He looked down at his body, muscular and vertical but for one thing. One very horizontal thing that twitched with need.

“Buildings,” he said to anyone that could hear him, and everything inanimate, “I’m here to fuck you. Little people, I’m now your god. Run if you like, because I’ll catch you anyway. Stay put and I’ll place you in the building of my choosing. Drowning in my fluids will be the end that you deserve.” Directionless screams reached his ears, and pleased him. He stepped over the collapsed building, and pressed on, lumbering intently, purposefully, degrading his naturally graceful gait into a near knuckle-dragging one, a joke to no one but himself.

“Look at me, tiny people! I’m a savage giant! I’ll show you no mercy!” He reached a corner, and looked to the right, spotting a mass of shapes on the street, indistinct to him, undeserving of recognition. He walked in their direction, the sweep of his feet displacing everything they encountered, blowing away some of the moving shapes. He walked on the rest, shifting his rhythym into a dance as he crushed the forms under him, feeling them flatten under the balls of his feet, and his heels. Whatever found refuge under his arch was spotted soon after, and made red on grey until he stopped dancing, and licked his lips.

“I’ve painted the streets with you, tiny people. The street runs red with your blood, and this is only the beginning!” The man searched for an attractive building, and a couple of blocks away he spotted one that tickled his fancy. He strode toward it, his steps no longer ape-like, but easy and self-assured. How could it be otherwise? A building can’t ever say no. As he reached the reflective side of it, he felt whimsical, and striked a conversation with the lifeless material.

“How you doin’?”

The construction said nothing, but he played along as though it did.

“I’m glad to hear it. You are the most beautiful building I’ve ever set eyes on. Wanna dance?”

Somewhere in the world, a sultry, female voice said Yes. Even if it hadn’t, he would have only heard that word. He brought his hands to each side of the building, and embraced it, closing the distance between it and his body in a moment. He pressed himself against the flat surface, and pushed. Nothing gave in. He tried again, closing his eyes and relishing every tingling message now traveling from his midsection to every distant corner of his body. His body hardened just enough to penetrate the unyielding surface. More screams made their way to his ears, and he laughed at them.

“You are mine, all of you,” he whispered, his face cradled against the cool surface, warming it almost instantly, leaving an imprint of his sweaty face as his pounding increased. He opened his eyes long enough to prop one foot against the entrance of the building. Anyone hiding in it would drown very soon, with no escape. His breathing became louder, his hips thrusted harder, slamming against the featureless surface as he imagined what he must look like to everyone trapped in his lover.

“Giant. I’m a giant. Every part of me is giant. I’m so big to you, so enormous, I’m driving you to madness!”

The more he said, the faster he moved, and the faster he moved, the more incoherent he became until he grunted, signaling the end to his efforts. He panted, still on his feet but only just, as the building crumbled under his weight, and he along with it. He cackled as he dropped, heaving in place, his brain shutting down into slumber, his body electrifyingly weak.

“Are you done?” boomed a voice from above. He grunted in sudden displeasure.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Did you have fun?” The voice continued, and the screams that had been the soundtrack to his city invasion stopped, a recording come to an end. He grunted again, for a longer span, his eyebrows burrowing together.

“Alright, love. The fun is over. I have to fix the cracker buildings you broke, and then we have to go. Clean up that drop of cum, will you?”

“Must you do that?!” He said, clearly annoyed now, the waves of pleasure that had coursed through his body completely dissipated under the bombardment of her words. He opened his eyes and looked at her, the woman he loved, the one that had made him tiny, only two inches tall. The reality of the toy city she had built for him hit him square in the chest.

“Do what?” she said, looming over him, a true building of flesh, her face nearly two hundred feet away from him, scalding him with the scale of her enormousness, blurry in the distance his eyes were now too small to breach without a breakdown. The white of her teeth flashed at him like lightning, and he felt small again. He felt his size again, and he wondered how he didn’t turn into glass in the fulgor of that smile.

“Just… I felt big. I really did. And then you speak and I feel my size again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking genuingly contrite. “I thought you were done! I watched and you doubled over, and I saw that tiny white spot—”

“Stop it! Stop saying stuff like that!”

She blinked, slowly. On his back, looking at the sky of her, he wondered if he’d gone too far. He closed his eyes and waited for punishment. He was used to it. He shouldn’t have snapped. Instead, the wind changed, and the weather turned warmer. She descended. He opened his eyes to watch her kneel down in his direction, her face closer until every feature was clear, including the curious glimmer in her eyes.

“Talk to me, sweet little love. Tell me what you need. Stop fussing and speak; if you can’t, then I’m afraid it will be Time Out for you.”

Time Out… it was anything but. He shivered in fear, and forced his dry lips to move.

“No, please. I’ll use my words, I’m sorry!” She nodded, encouraginly. “It’s just that… after I’m done, I’d like a little time for myself, to keep up the illusion, you see? Just a few minutes after I cum, please? Just to feel my giant size before I return to my normal two inches in size. Just some… silence. Your voice is so strong, so overwhelming that when I hear it I can’t think of anything else.”

She pursed her lips prettily as she considered his words, the scent of her reaching him, all musk and heat and sex, fresh soap and her own perfume, unique of her skin, and his body stirred again. He winced, knowing that any change in his body he tried to hide would be spotted and exploited by her. If she witnessed his instant of weakness, she ignored it.

“Very well, my tiny love. From now on, every time I let you play in this little city I built for you, I’ll continue to play the background sounds, this audio of screams and sounds of destruction, and when you’re done, I’ll wait here until you speak. I’ll watch you until you come out of it on your own. I’ll watch you play with the cracker buildings and the ketchup people quietly, okay?”

He smiled, feeling foolish at the sudden fullness in his eyes.



“You’ll do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you, my little giant.”

“Thank you.”

“If you want to thank me, get up and climb into my hand. It’s my turn to play.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And he did.

6 thoughts on “Giant

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  1. This was fun. An indulgent pastiche of the classic giant rampage, not too purple, with your own stylistic flourishes. “Dancing” with the building was a nice touch, mocking both the rampage genre and the “giant’s” need to express some creativity and control.

    Before the artifice was fully exposed, I thought “cracker” buildings implied that you were inflicting some sort of rough justice on the state of Georgia.

    Only an owner who truly loved her pet would create such an elaborate Habitrail.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Olo. Is there any purple to it, though? I can’t tell. I definitely went for the slight ridiculing of the rampage theme, as I’m still determined to fail to see the logic in using a building as a sex toy. I mean… I get it, but no one will ever catch me admitting that I do. Not publicly.

      Yes, the crackers are literal. When writing, I haven’t negotiated the racial-slur waters yet. I’m not saying I won’t, because I intend to write about truly awful people… but I’ll only ever do it after careful thought. I’m not as good as Aborigen is about writing social commentary—as in, I’ve never tried to do it—but I’d like to try.

      As an owner, I only imagine myself as truly loving my possession, and showing it often.


      1. There’s an element of performance and exhibitionism to being truly giant that I think many people (perhaps including me) feel obligated to indulge in. You can always spot a newbie giant because they’re the one fucking vehicles and buildings and smearing their ass with bystanders. Veteran giants tend to have a curated list of appointments and commands.

        Imagining your cum will drown everyone in a building (as opposed to simply shattering the building) is kinda purple (or a different kink altogether).

        Aborigen and I have gone around a bit on making size fantasy more diverse and accessible, avoiding the pitfalls of writing about less familiar (sub-)cultures, and finessing the amount of physical detail in porn. It’s a tough nut (heh). It pretty much turns on who you imagine your audience to be and/or who you want it to be (and your audience of course includes yourself).

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I’m all for the exhibitionistic aspect of it, but I also want my giant characters to have privacy if they ever feel the need for it, which is probably part of why I like to write about giantesses that live in caves.

          Both your efforts are commendable. It has never occurred to me to make size fantasy more diverse. I just write about what comes to mind, relying on insistence and repetition to work my way into people’s minds. Like Sandra Bullock said, “did I just wear you all down?”

          (Even when I’m working hard to expand myself, I’m doing it for me. So selfish.)


  2. Now that’s a gesture of largesse. She gives him his time, she sets up his environment and lets him get his ya-yas out. That’s a giantess for whom any tiny man would willingly do anything, I think. I wonder which means more to her, the love of and pride in her craft as she builds this little world for her toy, or the radiant little burst of emotion she witnesses in him as a result. I’m privileged to have espied this lovely interaction.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Aborigen! There are a few things that mean a lot to her, and getting off on watching her little guy get off is one of them, in particular because he’s doing it in an environment she created for him. What she does makes her a goddess. A cracker-and-ketchup goddess, but one nonetheless.

      But also, she’d do anything for him.

      Liked by 1 person

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