I don’t know how it was because I missed it from beginning to end. Last year I nearly missed it because of a copious thunderstorm, and this year I couldn’t make it because I was very ill with Covid. Now I’m looking at the issues I missed and wishing I had not been in bed battling a debilitating fever, but them’s the breaks.
None of the covers I’ve included in this blog entry caught my eye beyond their implying size content that doesn’t exist. I’ll be the first one to admit that sometimes I add a comic to my pull list because of the cover, and it nearly invariably turns out to be a very disappointing storyline as far as size interaction is concerned. That doesn’t bother me as long as the story is good.
No matter what the cover or content, what I definitely do is read my comics with a notebook and pen by my side, because I always get ideas from the layouts I see, or the way a panel is illustrated, or even just the artistic style. I get nothing from the covers I’ve included, except the renewed certainty that in the universe where I live with a tiny man, I’m making him listen to the lewd stories I tell him instead of whatever the comic actually is. The stories come from my head, and as he sits trapped somewhere nice and soft, he is made to enjoy them no matter what he actually thinks of what I say.
In that universe I never get covid, and I don’t miss out on fun events because I’m shivering in bed, in pain, unable to get up to do anything but go to the bathroom. But what about this universe? What would happen if I shared my life with the tiny man of my dreams? No matter how sick I got, I had to give this matter some thought… because one day I might wield the power to shrink a very special man. But what if I get sick? Do I send him away? Do I keep him locked up in the dollhouse so he doesn’t get sick with a dangerous virus?
I still don’t have an answer. I’ve thought that at some point I’ll be able to delegate the care of my tiny love during an emergency, such as a hospital stay, my untimely passing, etc. Those are dark thoughts, but they occupy my mind because I don’t want to imagine my shrunken lover having to deal with my enormous corpse, or finding himself stranded and alone because his only caregiver is not able to tend to his tiny needs. Those are the thoughts that spring up when I don’t feel well.
In my feverish misery I thought I’d do my best to make sure he contracts the same illness from me so that our fate is the same… but most of the time I just wanted him to exist in the worst way so I could use him to forget how badly I felt. That’s not exactly the most loving and caring attitude to have, but it’s where I was at while I was not myself. I reckon there is a chance that’s the part of me that will manifest if shrinking ever becomes a reality, and I find that I need to distract myself that way. So… I may not have been myself healthwise, but I was still myself in that other way, the giant way I like so much.
But what about that poor little guy? Is that what you’re thinking? What about how he feels? Doesn’t he need bedrest too? Doesn’t he need a thermometer stuck between his tiny cheeks? Shouldn’t I be concerned about his health? Of course, I am. I’m not a monster. Well, yes, I am. But not in that way. He’d get enough rest when he’s not pinned beneath me, and plenty of fluids when he is. He’d get plenty of medicine, and none of it will even remotely taste like bleach. I’d care for him as he’d be my most precious possession.
I will choose the man I shrink very carefully. If he doesn’t require sex as often as I do, I will simply pick someone else to shrink. I want someone that matches me in the most important ways when it comes to size. Wanting what I want, when I want it, how I want it, is crucial to my selection process, however hypothetical it may be at present. It feeds my fantasy, it heats it up to no end, to imagine that one little person that puts me first in many ways as I put him first in others. It’s a precious give and take that must be understood, and just because it looks like I’m doing a lot of taking in a very decisive, merciless, relentless way doesn’t mean I don’t give back just as much, just as powerfully.
But what does all that have to do with this year’s Free Comic Book Day? Almost nothing. It’s just what I was thinking that day. I was dreaming of a future Free Comic Book Day my little guy and I spend together reading, fucking, loving, and having the size fun we deserve to have. Some of it might not look like fun to the undiscerning eye… but that’s why no one will ever know what’s happening in my panties as I walk around the shop selecting comics we both like, and no one will hear him scream muffled words as his lower brain gets the best of him and my swaying body makes him feel too much. No one will see his tiny body when I finally pull it out, panting and spent, trembling at the hungry look in my eyes that tells him I want more. No one will see me kiss him, make him better, and lower him in place again to show him the day is just starting as I pick the bumpiest roads to drive us home.