Happy Anniversary, Undersquid!

It’s that time again…

I’ve now been blogging my size thoughts for ten years on WordPress (minus that time I was away). I’ve been blogging for longer than that, and I’ve been writing since I was a wee lass (I can say that because I’m two-percent Irish!), yet I feel last year I should have written much more than I did. In 2017 I wrote 100 blog entries, a ton of comments, and a few stories here and there. I need to write more, and I need to write more better.

Still, congratulations to me! And now it’s time for our fun-filled fact segment:

  • According to FlagCounter, my blog has surpassed a half a million views. I didn’t make note of the total number of views last year but did this time around.FlagCounterPageviews.jpgSure, a lot of those viewers are one-time visitors that back away slowly and never return, but plenty of you are still here and check in every once in a while to see what size smut I’ve posted recently.
  • Here’s a map of my last two hundred visitors. It shows what I’ve witnessed is a consistent concentration of interested readership.StatCounterVisitors.jpgThere are still fifty countries on Earth from where I’ve received no visitors. I’m still waiting for a sign the Pope reads my blog. Or someone, anyone in the Vatican.
  • My most read post is still GentleApril17: The Results!, with GentleApril17 a close second, and once again—as it was the case with my defunct blog—The Copacetic Cricket-Crush Connection rises to the top in third place… and gaining. Why? I wrote that blog entry thinking it was sad and funny, but you keep reading and rereading it. Do you hate crickets? Do you want them dead? Have you seen how cute crickets are? No, none of those are real questions. I know why y’all like that. I swore I was never going to write again about accidentally crushing a bug, but it doesn’t matter what I do. That blog entry seems to be enough.
  • The most viewed image is still Bored_at_the_movies.png. Interesting. I’ve abandoned my Pixton account. I had this fantastic idea for a comic… and I wrote a note about it… and then I forgot where I stashed the note. On a more positive note, I’m keeping notes, coming back to them later, and actually using them for stories. That’s a huge change from how I managed my writing before.
  • The search term my visitors use the most is “hug the undersquid”. I’m only referring to search terms my blog can detect since in most cases they are hidden by your browsers. The Quirky Award goes to “hog the indersquid”, and the most… peculiar one this year was “giantess mommy digesting her tiny son”. The one search term that makes me want to run off and write a story is this beauty:SearchTerm.png

Is that all she wrote? Yes, it is… for now.


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.”

Tuesday Night News

Who wouldn’t?

Fun Ads

A couple of days ago someone shared a link with me to a series of ads that included a version of the above. I altered the male shape to cater to my thoughts and had a lovely moment to myself as I thought how wonderful it would be to live in a world where adoption of tiny people is possible. There would be a procedure to make sure there’s a good fit, and part of that procedure includes filling out a thorough questionnaire. Imagining some of the questions felt like taking a drug.

And then this one…

The above was another ad at the same address, and it’s a concept I like for stories so much, I’ve created comics and stories about it. I’m sure I’ll do it again, for the same reasons I like the notion of a woman adopting a shrunken man. What if there existed a world where men are made tiny intentionally, and then marketed as toys? I’d like to think there’s a version of me in that world, and she finds a perfect toy, one that’s a fit for all my needs.


This is not sizey, but I’m gonna throw it in here because who’s gonna stop me? I was walking home, and my route included a college dorm building. I could hear young women moving about and talking as I walked down a hallway towards an exit when I spotted a gorgeous white cat on the floor. I picked her up and she had glitter all over her hair.

At first, I was horrified for obvious reasons. What kind of monster puts glitter all over their pet? I was about to take her with me when I looked at my sparkly fingers and realized the glitter was natural, and produced by the cat herself. I still wanted to steal her but her human was working on a paper a couple of doors away, and she saw me holding her sparkly cat.

I left the building and arrived at home, where I went to the living room to pick up a basketful of laundry when something underneath the pile of clothes started working its way out. At first, I thought (in my dream), Yes! A little guy! But it was another cat, a deep orange one with a patch of dark hair on his back in the shape of a giraffe.

His hair was gloriously long and soft, and I didn’t care how he broke into my home, because I was keeping him forever. And that’s true. All of my cats have just shown up in my life, and I’ve never made the least effort to find out if they are “lost”. They are mine. The same way that man I might shrink one day is mine.


I’m working on eighteen different things: stories, incomplete series, collaborations, commissions, my idea for a size podcast, drawing, painting, gifts, size crafts, and all of that after recovering from my second worst writer’s block ever. It’s still pouring out of me slowly and painfully, so send me your good thoughts.

I’m going to keep writing even if you send me your bad thoughts, and despite my own. I was told recently my writing sucks… No, that’s not true. I was told my writing is not as good as it used to be; it’s angry now. Maybe. I just shrugged, because I’m going to keep writing no matter what anyone thinks. It’s what I do, like breathing. And pooping.

When Toys Cry

“Dg620” by AmGiPi

Dig if you will the picture
Of you and I engaged in a kiss
Your lips and your body cover me
Can you, my darling
Can you picture this?

Dream, in your hand, a glass jar
In it, my body bruised blue
I see your face, curious, closest
I feel the heat
The heat between me and you

How can you just keep on grinding?
A toy in a world that’s so tall (so tall)
Maybe you’re just too demanding
Maybe I’m just like my father, too small

Maybe you’re just like my mother
She’s never satisfied (she’s never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When toys cry

Touch if you will my stomach
Feel how it trembles inside
You’ve got my ankles and wrists all tied up
Don’t make me beg you
Even toys have pride

How can you just keep on grinding?
A toy in a world that’s so tall (world so tall)
Maybe you’re just too demanding
Maybe I’m just like my father, too small

Maybe you’re just like my mother
She’s never satisfied (she’s never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When toys cry

How can you just keep on grinding?
A toy in a world that’s so tall (world that’s so tall)
Maybe you’re just too demanding (maybe, maybe I’m like my father)
Maybe I’m just like my father too small (you know he’s too small)

Maybe you’re just like my mother (maybe you’re just like my mother)
She’s never satisfied (she’s never, never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other? (why do we scream, why)
This is what it sounds like
When toys cry

When toys cry (toys cry, toys cry)
When toys cry (toys cry, toys cry)
Don’t cry (don’t cry)

Songwriters: Prince Rogers Nelson
When Doves Cry lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Loving parody: Undersquid

Empty Pile of Clothes – 5

Six troublesome men, and one troubleall woman. Make a wager on the winner.

Time for another pile, and this time it’s not a single pile of one set of clothing, and as I mentioned in an earlier post, this one is different from the fiction I usually share here.

These stories are a great workout for my brain as I push myself to do something I’ve seldom done before, which is to follow a writing prompt that’s not necessarily tailored to my taste. This is a tough read for those of you that like gentle material, so please stay away from the link below if you don’t want your sensitivities to be assaulted.

The rest of you, enjoy.


Empty Pile of Clothes – 5

Caveat Lector – This story is unlike anything I’ve shared here before. The only reason I’ve produced it at all is my intention to grow as a writer and to stop droning on and on about my obsession to shrink a little guy and own him forever. Yes, that will always be part of me, but this story is not fetish motivated. Not wholly.)


“Selfie With Owner” by eh_lora

Once, somewhere not here
But a real place
There was a tiny man, as small as a toy
He was good​ and smart

He lived in a house that looks like mine
But it’s not mine
But it’s a real place
A good place

And in that house lived a woman
She’s not me
But she looks like me
But she can’t write worth a damn

She loved that little man
And the little man loved her
Every day they got out of bed (her bed)
And had fun

Sometimes they had fun
Before they got out of bed
This is true
This really happened

When they left the house
He was always with her
In her pocket, or her purse
In her panties, or her bra

They were never apart
Because she was never tired of him
He was always tired
But that was not her fault

Yes, it was
It was entirely her fault
So what?

Her friends thought she was crazy
Loving such a tiny man
Their husbands and boyfriends
Large and boring

Her family stopped talking to her
But she showed up anyway
And put him on the table
And showed him off

His friends thought nothing of him
Because they didn’t know where he was
He disappeared mysteriously
And was never seen again

His family knew
They received updates
Untraceable emails
Photos that didn’t look real

Selfies like the one above
Her teeth playing with his clothes
His body dangling from that hold
A shrunken camera going click click click

And they were both happy
I need to say that again
They were both happy

Empty Pile of Clothes – 4

The story is already written in my head. You’ll read it as soon as I get a chance to sit down and shape it into a word doc. This pile-of-clothes project requires every ounce of writing focus I can muster, and I welcome the effort with open arms. It’s a challenge I need.

Check later for a story update. This one is going to be fun to write. Fanfic? Well, yes. That’s how it emerged from my noggin.

P.S. I’m grateful to everyone who’s helping me with this writing project. Number 5 has already sent me an image, and the idea I have for it is absolutely removed from anything  #Undersquiddy. Perfect! (But also, beware.)

[Much later…]

Writing this story felt different from writing other stories. My focus wasn’t on the size goodies as much as the adventure I wish were a real episode. I love Doctor Who, I collect the series in any way I can, and I just ordered a sonic pen. It’s a pen, okay? Also, I’ve been waiting for the Doctor to be female since childhood. If you don’t like that change, let me know so I may visit your hometown and flatten it.

Empty Pile of Clothes – 4


Not a family, but a couple interacting with an interloping giantess.

The idea for this story came to mind because of the image above. I don’t particularly like it, as three people in an image are not my cup of tea at the moment; but when I saw it, a scenario rushed to my thoughts and it’s very much something I want to tell. Also, beach stuff is on my mind because summer is going to run long. I ordered it as much, and I control the weather.

* * *

There had been very little difference in intensity between the excitement Tanya felt as a child when her parents took her brothers and her to the beach, and the joy she felt when she and her boyfriend visited the shore and spent weekends having fun and relaxing. Now, with all the giantesses around, it was different. It wasn’t that she minded their existence; it was how little her boyfriend minded their existence. Twice now they had almost died because as soon as they left the city, giantesses were so routinely seen they became part of the landscape.

Sometimes they were the landscape Jim could not stop watching, to the detriment of his driving, and to a degree that made it impossible for her to rest in the passenger seat for the five hours it took them to travel east to the nearest beach. She always had to drive now, while fuming because Jim could not hide his enthusiasm for those really tall women, which he had tried to explain often.

“You have to understand, honey… I can’t help it. Can’t you see how amazing it is that there are giantesses in the world now?”

You can’t help it, but all I see is naked ladies the size of mountains. I know all their parts because I have them too. There’s nothing there I find amazing, and I really wish you’d make an effort not to stare quite so hard when I’m with you. It makes my heart hurt.”

That Saturday morning they got up hours before dawn and started off with muted excitement on his part, and with stuffed up sinuses on hers. She almost canceled the trip, and she didn’t look forward to losing Jim’s attention to the lumbering presence of those giant ladies, but her desire to spend the day in the sun, to eat fresh fish, to drink until she forgot there were weekdays won out. That and hours of Internet research in order to find the nearest beach giantesses visited the least. Thank goodness for Yelp. The result added one hour to her driving, but she didn’t care if it meant a lesser chance of having to witness Jim become googly-eyed.

The drive was quiet until the sun came up two hours later and they could see the open fields—and the giantesses frolicking in them—on each side of the road. She almost turned around when Jim covered his lap with a throw, and surreptitiously lowered his dominant hand into the tentlike cover. She exploded with rage.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Honey, please… I’m so horny, and we didn’t have sex before we left the house.”

“That’s because I was busy making breakfast; busy getting us ready to go! I’ll be damned to hell if you’re going to jerk off while staring at fucking giantesses while I do all the driving. Keep your fucking hands where I can see them or I swear I’ll turn this car around and you can forget about having any fun with me this weekend! You save that shit for me, you understand?” She snatched the blanket with one hand—which sent them swerving slightly to the right—and treated them to a rumble-strip extravaganza until she tossed the length of fabric in the back seat.

Jim looked down at his shorts and mentally apologized to the small, damp spot on them. His need would have to wait, but he would keep what he had just seen fresh in a corner of his mind: a giantess waking up to the insistent ministrations of a partner’s tongue on a crushed field of hay they had just passed. Jim wanted to be the tongue, to be the receiving swollen flesh, to be somewhere between them, but he didn’t think he could adequately explain that desire to his girlfriend. She didn’t understand why anyone would want to have sex with a giantess, though the only way to accurately describe such an event would be to say that one was being had for sex by a giantess. Wanting to ingratiate himself, Jim broke the uncomfortable silence with a factoid.

“Happy National Orgasm Day, honey.” The look she shot him expounded upon his wrong estimation as effectively as a slap might have.


“It’s… ‘Orgasm Day’, according to what I read…”

“Do you really want me to have a happy day? Worry about my orgasms and not yours, okay? Make sure you do what it takes to make me cum today. Do you even know what that is? You know what, I’m too angry to talk right now. Just sit there quietly and let me breathe.” Tanya worked her window open, and let the screaming wind rushing into the car sing songs to her. When she was little she had heard songs in the air when her father lowered the car windows, and she wondered if there were wind people talking to her. Now that she was older she didn’t ponder such things, but she forced her mind to focus on the shrieking, interminable gust of air, on the road, and on the strip of sand waiting for her. She would deal with Jim’s cock later.

After hours of near silence during the drive and a fast-food breakfast, Tanya’s mood improved drastically when they settled in their hotel room and changed into their beach attire. She pointedly ignored the tremors that visited the floor, indicating the presence of one—or more—nearby giantess, and she forcefully ignored Jim’s roaming hands.

“No. I need some fresh air and a couple of drinks in me; then we’ll come back here to change for lunch, and fuck a couple of times, okay?” What could Jim do but agree? He was led out the door, and they walked to the swath of sand that was so wide people looked like dots where the waves crashed. Tanya looked up in every direction and heard or saw no giant curves of flesh nearby. She smiled as they spread their towels on the sand, and rubbed sunblock on each other. Try to get one of those giantesses to rub anything on you without crushing you into paste, silly man, she thought as she spread a thick layer of the white substance on her boyfriend’s back.

Hours went by, and they found each other laughing and joking and dozing off until Tanya decided it was time to start working on the interminable state of drunkenness that would be this weekend. She rose from her towel and yawned, the sensation stemming from her stretched face one of deep pleasure.

“I’m going to walk to the stand and get us a mess of beer,” she stated as she dusted herself off, put on her cover-up and palmed her credit card. Jim mumbled something incoherent with his eyes closed, but she ignored it. The moment she turned to walk away she saw the head, too far away to discern distance, yet clearly the summit of a gigantic body making its way to the beach. Fucking fuck shit, she thought, I‘m gonna have to get very drunk to in order to deal with huge pussies leaking all over us. Motherfucking naked bitch, couldn’t find anywhere else to be naked?

Tanya didn’t look down at Jim to check his reaction and bolted as determinedly as she could towards one of the resort’s sources of food and alcoholic beverages. Every few sand-kicking steps she looked at the town’s skyline and saw the giantess take another step in her direction, until their paths intersected. The giantess wasn’t wearing a single stitch of clothing, and when she stepped over a building complex and brought her foot down on the street where the beach stand stood, Tanya felt the shockwave throw her off balance, and felt her legs buckle under her. She looked up in time to watch the giantess take one leaping step over her, legs like buildings kick a cloud of sand into the air, and about a hundred feet above her, scissoring labia that wriggled voraciously. It glistened in preparation for… what?

Now with a dusting of sand peppered over her sunscreen-sticky skin, Tanya wanted to run back to Jim and make sure he didn’t gather her towel in a tent over his lap, but she realized that whatever happened, she needed mass quantities of liquor to face it. She’d be too drunk to kill Jim in twenty minutes. She stood up again and rushed to the stand, where people laughed as they gathered around cell phones that captured the moment the giantess had been their sky, or walked out to turn off their car alarms, set off by those seismic steps. Refusing to emulate them, Tanya stared at the basic food menu and decided to skip buzz-reducing additions to her stomach. Instead, she left the stand and elbowed her way to the convenience store next door; she found it incredibly crowded, but the refrigerated section was well stocked with 12-packs of repugnantly cheap beer.


The giantess had had a filling breakfast of a few cows, a farm’s patch of cruciferous greens, and a lagoonful of water. She had been very careful with her food and had gifted the farmer from whom she claimed that food with a generous mound of future manure. Now it was time for a bit of fun with people, and even dessert, if any of them were willing. They always surprised her with the oddest requests, but according to the most recent Compact amendment, no Level 5 planet inhabitant was to be hurt by one of her kind unless they expressly desired to be hurt. It had been hard on some of them when she explained she could only hold them, hug them, or kiss them. The law was the law.

She walked over their structures easily, delighting in the way their dark roads cracked under her feet. Most people were happy to see her, but she could detect other feelings in their hearts. She headed toward the surf, where she could feel the pull of many little ones wishing to spend time with her. The warm sand felt like silk here, and the strip was wide enough to accommodate her ample form, even when she spread it as she sat. She looked down and smiled at the rows of men and women waving at her. She waved back and laughed when some of them scattered at the sight of her moving hand, emitting tiny sounds that marveled her. She nodded at the courageous little lady who was first in line as it reorganized behind her, with Jim right behind her.

Jim was filled with terror and excitement. There he stood, knowing that as soon as Tanya walked away the ground trembled with the approach of this beautiful giant woman, and he had bolted to his feet right away, looking at Tanya become a tiny figure in the distance, one that fell as the giantess stepped over her, and got up without looking back at him. Jim didn’t know if that was a good thing. He didn’t care. He would pay for this for the rest of his life if he had to, but he had to at least try to say hello to the giantess. Now he watched her lift the woman in front of him, thanking his lucky stars he had the foresight to slip in place when the line in front of him broke apart. He understood that fear, but his desire overrode it. The hand that had caused that commotion could easily lift a truck but was currently wrapped around the woman, and bringing the only thing emerging from it—her head—to her lips, over and over again. He could barely hear the woman’s laughter over the sound of his own heart. He kept looking back at the spot where he had last seen his girlfriend.

When the giantess released the woman who didn’t seem to mind her bikini was torn in several areas, she turned her attention to Jim, who felt her gaze like a knife through his body. She reached for him and stopped her hand mid-air, tilting her head as though listening to something no one else could hear. She then lowered her hand, resting the back of it on the sand. “When you’re ready,” she added, and Jim swallowed hard, his heart melting. He tried to return her look, but the noon sun was a blinding crown on her head. The second it took for him to hesitate felt like an insulting eternity, and he wondered if she would push him aside for the person behind him. The thought made him want to hurt himself, so he forced himself to look at the hand waiting for him, and squashed his guilt as hard as he could. He walked over to the hand and lowered his hands on a finger wider than his chest. At that moment, he forgot everything and everyone else.

The sight of his fingers splaying and sinking ever so slightly into her soft flesh as he advanced stilled his breath. The pink of her skin pulsating with life made him think of her heart, as big as a room, pumping inside her chest. His shins dragged on the pads of her fingers until he reached the center of her palm. There, he sat cross-legged and waited. It took a moment for her to react, and she lifted her hand carefully, slowly, all the way to her chest. There, to his astonishment, she spilled him over the edge of her palm so that he landed face first between her breasts. Her hand followed his body in perfect motion, and she pressed it against her.

“Is that what you wanted to feel, little man?”

“Please, call me Jim,” he tried to say, but the sounds that left his lips sounded more like muffled barks and moans. She understood him anyway.

“I will not use your name. Funny things happen when we use your names. I’ll keep calling you pet names instead.”


She tucked her chin into her chest, and whispered to him as quietly as she could, “You can move a bit… if you want.” Jim tried to turn his head over his shoulder to look for Tanya even though he was buried in flesh.

“I’m not supposed to. I shouldn’t. Oh, Jesus…”

It didn’t matter what Jim did or didn’t do. She was stroking him with her heartbeat. When her skin reached for him, his body hardened where it should; when her skin retracted with her pulse, he fell back into her palm. There was nothing to penetrate, but he came anyway. She seemed to know because that glorious chest exploded with deep laughter, and her hand separated from it instantly. Jim was blinded by the sudden violence of sunlight, but his hands flew to his crotch. Tanya would see that dark stain and hate him forever. The giantess didn’t put him down, and instead reached over the crowds and lowered him into a crashing wave, pinning him in place with her thumb. As though washing a trinket, she agitated him in place a couple of times, lifted him, and gently lowered him to the ground.

Jim tried to say thank you, or goodbye, or anything else, but the giantess was already playing with someone else. He looked around, knowing there was hell to pay, knowing Tanya would yell at him, cry and maybe even leave him. He didn’t want that. He loved her. Tanya was nowhere to be seen. Jim wondered if maybe she had gone back to the hotel after seeing the giantess grab him.

But she didn’t grab me. I crawled into her palm like a willing bug. Tanya, I’m sorry! Where are you? He rushed back to their spot, put on his shirt and sandals, grabbed their things and ran back to the hotel. The car was where she parked it and their things were where they had left them. Jim began to panic. He had no idea how long it had been since Tanya walked off to the stand, but it had to be at least half an hour.

The beach stand! Of course. Maybe she had decided to eat something or was waiting in line for their food. Feeling better, he walked back to the beach, glad to see his shorts were almost dry, and there was no telltale dark spot on them anymore. There was a crowd of people at the stand, but no sign of Tanya. He caught a glimpse of something extraordinary in the hand of one of them. A woman was holding what appeared to be a living little man. Shocked, he approached her to ask to see what she was holding, but the man that stood next to her moved between them. “Don’t come near my wife, buddy. Find your own little dropling.”

“Sorry, man. It’s not my intention- my own little what?”

“Get lost, don’t pretend you don’t know.”

The couple walked away, and he looked around for Tanya again, now wondering if she had gotten distracted looking at that tiny guy. She wasn’t eating, she wasn’t ordering food, where was she? Jim walked into the convenience store, which was also quite crowded. He walked across the aisles just in time to see Tanya emerge from the bathroom. In her fist, she was holding a very small man. Jim could only see his head, but it was clear the man was alive. And wet.

Tanya was shocked to see him, and her cheeks turned a deep red. “Oh, hi honey! You’re here,” she said, turning even redder. Jim couldn’t say anything, but when Tanya walked over to him, he found a few words.

“What the fuck is that? Why are you holding it?”

“Oh, this? It’s a he, silly. You know the rumors we’d been hearing about little men being spotted all over the place, and we thought they were nonsense? It turns out the rumors are true! These little guys just fall off the giantesses!”

“Okay, awesome, the rumors are true. These things are basically body lice. Now get rid of it. Put it back where you found it.”

“That’s the thing! They were in a box, twelve of them I think. I only got here in time to catch the very last one. The owner of the store, the guy that found them and put them in the Free Men box, says this little runt is the smallest one of them all!”

“Great. Put it back in the box.”

Tanya stopped smiling so quickly Jim almost took a step back.

“No. I’m not. I’m never putting it- him back. He’s mine now. His name is…”

“No, you’re not supposed to name them!”

“Lord Kinbote.”

“Tanya, put it back in the fucking box, or I swear-”

“No. Never. I swear. You have to understand, honey… I can’t help it. Can’t you see how amazing it is that there are tiny men in the world now?” Tanya looked down at her possession, felt her heart fill with joy, and looked up at Jim again. Taking one step to close the gap between them, she lifted herself on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Happy National Orgasm Day, sweetheart. Now let’s go back to the hotel and celebrate.” As always, she led and Jim followed. What could Jim do but follow?

Empty Pile of Clothes – 3

There, where the sand is darkened by a shadow… that’s where it happened.

Where what happened, you ask? You’ll find out soon enough. You, and no one else, because the occupant of those swimming trunks, the man that owned that towel and wore those shoes, is now gone without a trace.

Gone where, you ask? You’ll see. And maybe… there’s something left of him. A small trace.

I’m off to write. Everyone be good down there and keep it down (har-dee-har), and then perhaps, later tonight, I can post the story that goes with the above photo.


Empty Pile of Clothes – 3

Empty Pile of Clothes – 2

A man vanishes into thin air, leaving no clues but a few garments.

What puzzling event took place here? Do you know? No, you don’t. Only I do. I’ve received the accompanying story prompt, and later today I will post the link to that story.

In the meantime, there’s no telling what’s happened to the owners of those abandoned clothes. Be careful out there.

Don’t look at me! I’m at home, writing innocently.

P.S. This one is coming out heartfelt. Y’all get ready for slightly huggy-kissy stuff.

Empty Pile of Clothes – 2