Happy Anniversary, Undersquid!

Thirteen years!

To be fair, I can’t claim that the previous year counts at all. Isolation during the Covid quarantine should have facilitated more writing, but life events swept away like dust motes any such possibility. My blog is a place of cheer, so I’m not going to get into details of what’s happened in my life in the past 18 months. Instead, I’ll look ahead, smile, and continue to work to make things go in the right direction.

Frankly, things would be much easier if I had a growth formula. If you have a growth formula or a shrink ray, please send it to me ASAP. In the meantime, let’s get into those fun-filled blog facts I like to bring up once a year and forget the rest of the time.

FCpageviews2021Because I abandoned my blog for a long time, I crashed my stats across the board. I did get some visitors, which I used to obsess about with delight. Now I’m only upset that the Pope still refuses to visit my blog and read stuff about tiny men as property of lusty women. I don’t know why he fights me. Somebody say something to him. I am tickled to report that I can now add five countries to the list of places that have now visited my blog. That pleases me, and it sparks my imagination.

I wrote 100 posts the year I came back, 87 in 2018, only 48 in 2019, 15 entries in 2020, and this year I’ve only written four. I think I’d like to change that. We’ll see. I have thought about writing most of my life, practically from the moment I held a writing implement (not a tablet), and going through this long drought feels odd, but it also feels inevitable. It’s happening, and it will be over when it’s over. If it never ends, I’ll still be busy with size as I construct my first dollhouse. Well, it won’t be my first, but it will be the first dollhouse that can withstand my straddling it.

Why would I straddle a dollhouse, you ask?


To instill fear in its one tiny inhabitant. Now add other desirable feelings to that fear, and you have the gist of what I’m after. But never mind, that’s a story for another time.

My most-read post was still The ABCs Game – F is for Farts. What can I say? My readers are wise and discerning. They should probably get ready for a post titled “S is for Sharts”, but I’m just spoiling it for them now.

My most-read story this year was Assed. I wrote it for a contest, and it probably needs some editing instead of complete abandonment, but it makes me smile that it’s been read many times. That story is very Me.

My most viewed image this year was What Strong Legs, an image I commissioned from @EdNEm3. I’ve never told anyone the story behind that image, but I’ll add that to my to-do list as soon as I start writing again.

The search term my visitors use the most is still “hug the undersquid”. The Quirky Award goes to “hug the understood”. I like the sound of it. Yes, understand the giantess, and hug her toes, which is the only part of her you can reach under your own steam. I’m not going to mention the most displeasing search term this year. No one should bother looking for that here. The search term that makes me want to write a story is:


The giantess did control the little man. She controlled the hell out of him. The giantess controlled the little man’s size until he was small enough, until she could barely see him as he stood in the groove of her forefinger’s print. Then she lowered her finger to herself and kept controlling his tiny body long enough to lose control. And then she did that again. And again. And again. She didn’t stop to listen to his attempts to scream, which were muffled rhythmically to the beat of her own drum. She went on for hours, until she was sated. The next day and every day thereafter, the giantess controlled the little man.

8 thoughts on “Happy Anniversary, Undersquid!

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  1. A pandemic is a perfectly adequate reason to excuse oneself from the duties of the day. Even introverts were surprised to learn how it would affect them to be ordered to stay home and not see anyone. It’s been an exceptional time where caving in and collapsing is permissible. I have to say this over and over until I believe it, now that I’m growing my hair out “in protest” and can’t be arsed to change out of sleep clothes or even shower every other day, much less choke out a short story.

    Still the thematic levity comes out in your writing voice here. Listening to you, booming around my apartment building, somehow makes me feel things (not everything, but many things) are okay, almost like a visit to the golden age of size writing when I showed up with my steamer trunk and an eager grin and you emerged from torpor to roam the planet once more. Many things are different now… many things… but it was comforting to read (I keep saying listen because your voice is so clear) your dispatch, like ordering a favorite dessert just this once.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I have to repeat similar things to myself. You just witnessed such an event. Deep inside, there is something in me that still whispers I should be writing, and writing a lot, and if I ever hope to “succeed” (whatever that is), I should be writing and drawing and making all these withdrawals from my psyche’s bank.

      Whatever that voice says to you, I hope what you’re making, learning, growing, and even writing is bringing you some joy. I know some of it satisfies you, and touches a place in you that likes light, so I’m happy about that.

      Funny you mention golden age. When I showed up around these size parts, I kept hearing about the “golden age of size” and how glorious it was, and how everything sucks now. I disagreed. I was there and I’m the opposite of suckage. I’ll always be glad we made our own golden age, even if it lasted about eight minutes!

      Now I’d settle for a silver-lining age.

      Thank you. I’m also glad what I wrote was comforting to read.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hello there, and way to go on your thirteen years on this site. Inspiration and comes and goes, so not to worry about the four posts. It’ll come back, and I hope life in general evens out as well.

    The number thirteen. I’m not superstitious (I like to think) but when in my car listening to music at volume level 12 and I want it louder, I skip right to 14. When I want in softer again, I go back to 12. Something in me never considers stopping at 13, ever. Am I weird?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Longer if we count GDC. Thank you, my hope is the same. I wrote some last night, so maybe I’m onto something.

      I didn’t give it a single thought, to be frank. Not until you mentioned it. And yes, you’re very weird. :D No, of course you’re perfectly normal. We all have our own relationships with patterns of fortune or luck, not one is better than the other. In fact, yours is probably better than most, since you just gave me an idea for a story about a superstitious giantess!


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