Sumbitch

He is a little asshole.
He is a little asshole.

Nearly nine years I’ve been working on this post. I started it and then pedaled back; restarted and deleted it once more. And again, a few times. I’m not sure where I’m going with it now, but I have thirty-three drafts waiting to be completed as blog entries, and this one, being one of the oldest, will be tackled first. I have a NaNoWriMo story to begin, after all.

And another false start. Why is this one so hard?

Sumbitch

He sat in the palm of her hand, his scowl matching her wide smile twitch by twitch. His eyebrows, thick and dark as though drawn with a stencil and a permanent marker, came together every time her hand shook too hard. Her excitement was difficult to contain, but she paced herself. She was going to enjoy this moment, and no flaring temper would take this away from her.

“Now what?”

“Now your new life begins.”

“I should have never let you talk me into this.”

“You worry too much.”

“Someone has to. I see your goofy grin and I know you can’t wait to drop me down the waistband of your pants. Boy, that will be so much fun for me.”

Her smile faltered, but only because she was trying to keep her smirks in check. Her hand, however, told on her as its surface beaded with sweat, and its temperature spiked to host blood that rushed faster.

“Hey, stop it! This is gross! Your hand is all wet now. And your skin is too hot. You’re such a pervert. Here I am, my life completely altered, and all you can think of is sex.”

“I can’t help what my body does. I can’t help wanting you the way I do. This is the best feeling in the world, to hold you like this. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She watched him shift uncomfortably, and gather his legs closer to his body. Despite the heat leaving her hand in waves, he shivered. Or was his body simply responding to the pulsing of her skin? She couldn’t tell, and that fact made her jerk in place with a wave of unexpected pleasure. Her hand rocked in place, and he with it. He yelped and called her a word he had never used before.

“Would you watch it? Be careful! I’m only a few inches in height now! You drop me, I die. Die. Is that what you want?”

Her smile was gone. She looked at him, and had visions of dropping him on purpose. He’d fall into her lap, and his eyes would show fear that would only increase as she used that same hand that held him now to swat him off her, and down to the floor. Then, she thought of crushing him. His bones were so thin now, so delicate, she wondered if she would be able to hear them snap. She was still looking at his defiant face as she weighed her options, and made a decision.

“You will never use that word on me again.”

“And what if I do?”

“It will be the last time you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you are upset, but you will calm down, and treat me with respect. Your looks will only take you so far. I want you, and I want to keep you forever. Your life will be perfect. But make me unhappy, keep up this bitchy attitude, and I’ll say goodbye to you as easily as I can replace you.”

“Replace me? Me? You’d never! You can’t. I’m special. I’m unique. And you love me.”

“Maybe you are one of a kind, but that won’t make a damned difference if I’m not happy. And I don’t love you. I like you. I like you a lot, which is much, much better than love. Love is a childish, useless feeling seldom accompanied by permanence or loyalty. Piss me off, and I’ll stop liking everything about you that made me choose you.”

“You are moody. I don’t know how anyone can stop you from being pissed off.”

“True, but there’s a big difference between normal flares of temper and chronic unhappiness. You can survive the former.”

“How quickly you moved from happiness to threats.”

She stared at him for a few long seconds and found a smile on her lips again. “Not at all. I’m still ecstatic. I’m delirious with joy. This is the best day of my life.”

“Really? The best day?”

“Well, one of the best.”

“And I bet your very best day has to do with some other guy.”

“Not ‘some other guy’. My son. The best day of my life was when I gave birth to my son.”

“So how do I rate as best days go? Like on a scale from one to ten?”

“You are a close second.”

“But you are ready to get rid of me if I piss you off too much.”

“I am. I did this so I could be happy. If I’m not happy, then I was wrong, and must rectify my mistake.”

“And it doesn’t occur to you to regrow me instead of… whatever else you have planned?”

“There is no going back. I shrank you permanently. This is forever.”

“If it were forever, then you wouldn’t get rid of me just because I make you mad. What if I become depressed? Are you just going to flush me down the toilet?”

“Of course not! I would do what I can to help, if possible. I would cuddle you and hold you and get you whatever you need. You are my toy, but you are also my little man. Your feelings matter.”

“What if I feel I need to grow back and return to my job and my home? And that’s the only thing that will help my depression?”

“Then I will help you see that you must accept what you can’t change. If you continue to be depressed and unable to accept your life as it is, that’s something we’ll face together, and whatever I decide will probably be informed by your wishes.”

Probably. Wow. OK, what if my cock falls off?”

“Stop that. Now you are being silly!”

“Seriously. What if you attack me one morning the way you did when I was big, and you come down on me so hard, it breaks off?”

“Let’s not get into every macabre what-if. Anything can happen, but I will try to be as careful as possible.”

“That’s good to know. That means sex is out of the question. Sex is dangerous, and you might kill me while trying those things you like so much.”

She contained her laughter so as to keep her hand as still as possible, but she clarified matters immediately.

“Sex is the only thing that will always happen, my little toy. Sex will never stop. Sex is why I did this. Sex is the only reason you exist as you are now. My sex, your body. Every day of the rest of your life. It doesn’t matter what falls off, or what breaks off, you will be used for sex. You can be depressed, angry, insane, happy, asleep, in a coma… it won’t matter. I will grab your little body every morning, and use it. Then I’ll wear it every afternoon, and use it. And when I’m done with my day, I’ll peel it off me and use it one last time before I go to sleep. Sex. You are sex now. That’s all you are.”

His mouth opened and moved as though to form the beginning of a word, but nothing came out, not even when her hand dropped slowly, carrying him to his final destination. The screams only started a minute later.

 

 

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Scheherazaded

Flash_and_Moon-Curtain.jpg

I don’t usually reuse collages for different posts, but I don’t see the blog police anywhere around here. This came to me while I was thinking of something completely different, and is soon to become a major motion story. As in, my fingers will be moving in a major way. During NaNoWriMo.

* * *

The man stood his ground, despite the fear tattooing his heart. His target stood dozens of feet above him, and there was no way he could reach it as she demanded. He wanted to be angry, to tell her exactly what he thought of her, but to do so would only seal his fate, not that it didn’t look sealed already. His fate was tightly packed, vacuum-wrapped in her whims, stamped and delivered into the future, but anger would probably make it worse.

“What are you waiting for? Touch it, or I’ll eat you.”

“Why do you do this?”

“Because it’s time, and I’m hungry.”

“So you are going to eat me anyway. Why do you ask me to do something impossible? You know there’s no way I’ll touch you there. I’m a gentleman.”

He couldn’t see her face from his disadvantage point, but she had cracked a smile.

“So it has nothing to do with your height?”

“Certainly not! I could have climbed your legs in an instant. I’m an amazing climber. I won climbing medals when I was big, before you did this to me.”

“So show me. You don’t have to touch it. Just show me how you can go up my leg, which from here looks like a tree trunk when compared to you.”

“I’d love to show you.”

“OK.”

“But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, you shrank me as I was delivering your pizza, and then proceeded to fatten me up for a period of… I’m not sure how many weeks-”

“Ten weeks.”

“You see this belly here? This was not here before. This blubber makes it impossible for me to climb as I did before. I was a bundle of manly muscles before. Now look at this cellulite.”

“I don’t see any-”

“Is that why you gave me all that delicious food? To ready me for some sort of banquet?”

“Yes. Obviously. Well, since you can’t do what I’m asking you to do, I’m going to slash your throat now, and make sausage with your blood.”

“Ah, blood sausage. The breakfast of champions. That’s great, but I never said I can’t climb your leg. I only said I can’t climb it in an instant, the way I might have before you turned me into a butterball.”

“Then climb it already!” She had forgotten that brief smile and had replaced it with impatience. She was hungry, and it would take some time to hang his carcass properly so as to bleed it in a bucket and not spill a single drop. To waste one molecule of his delicious body would be a sin.

“Very well. It’s a shame about the spiders, really.”

“The spid- what? Did you see a spider? Wait, you said ‘spiders’. Where? Oh, you know I hate those things!”

“Yes, I saw a bunch of spiders, you know, the really venomous ones that can kill you with one bite, the widow ones.”

Her expression changed immediately to one of suspicion.

“Oh, did you. A bunch. A bunch of black widow spiders?”

He thought faster than he’d ever thought in his life.

“Oh. Black? You say they are black? No. I didn’t see a bunch of black ones.”

“Of course you didn’t. They are solitary.”

“Yeah, I just saw one in your bedroom, and the other one was way back, behind the washer in the laundry room.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, so just two. I’d get them for you, but I’ll be busy roasting in the oven.”

“Oh, you are lying. You’re only trying to extend your little life. It will do you no good. I’m going to kill you, and cook you up, and eat you!”

“Yes, I know. Good luck with the spiders. I hope you’re not allergic to the antivenom. Goodnight.”

“Shit.”

“I’m ready.”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.”

“I’ll shut up now.”

“Look, uh… ok. Show me the webs.”

“Gladly! Do you have a sledgehammer? Go get it.”

“What? Why do I need a sledgehammer?”

“Because the black widow spider’s web is inside the wall, silly. They don’t build them out in the open. You know that crack on the wall under your bed? That’s where it lives. I can fit my head through there… if you squeeze your phone through the crack, then maybe you can take a picture. But then you’ll have to get out from under your bed very quickly because you know how aggressive they can be, and when your phone’s flash enrages it, it will come after you, and what if you’re stuck under there-”

“Shut up! Shut up, I get it. Fine. Show me the other web. The one in the laundry room. And you better not come up with a clever little story for that one, because if you do I’ll gut you right here, and make kidney with your pies.”

“You mean-”

“Shut up and show me.”

“Yes, of course.”

And tiny as he was, he led the way past the kitchen to the laundry room, where he hoped there was a spider web somewhere.

* * *

 

Bitter

Socked

And so you shrank me
And left me here
Alone with you
Who gets to sleep

So I get up from between your sheets or panties or feet
And I climb down the side of that mountain you insist on calling bed
And I spit in your food
Just a drop or two

And so you use me
Day in and day out
And leave me here and go
Out with your friends

So I break into your closet and unzip my toylike pants
And leave something in your shoes
You won’t even notice it when you wear them
A drop as invisible as me

And so you yell at me
Because I’m irritating
And say what’s on my mind
Tiny but not small

So I hack into your phone and text his number
Your most unfavorite ex, the one that did that
And beg him to come over at 3am
Preferably drunk

And so you keep me
And tell me it’s forever
I don’t mind; I kinda like it
But sometimes you piss me off

Shrink

Shrink-Electric

“I like going to that ramen place on Tate.”

“We can go there tomorrow.”

“I wanted to go to Comic con on Friday. It’s a two-hour drive, and I wanted to get there early.”

“We’ll see what I have planned for the weekend. I’d like to go to the Air Show instead.”

“I had already decided to go to Comic con.”

“I understand that. Now you are a married man, and you don’t get to simply up and leave when you want.”

“No, you are quite wrong. I’m a married man, and I don’t get to up and leave, as you put it, because I find myself reduced to the miserable height of two inches!”

“Don’t raise your voice. There’s no need to be angry.”

“No ne- No need to be- Fuck. Woman, grow me back. I want to be my old height again. This is not right. This is wrong. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Of course you didn’t ask for this. No one asks for this. It simply happens.”

“I can’t deal with this. This is a nightmare!”

“Now you are being hurtful. You love me. You asked me to marry you. I told you what would happen. I told you every day that this was going to happen.”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t- Fuck. I don’t even want to look at you right now. Do you think that because you told me, that makes it right? Do you think that I ever imagined you were serious? I thought it was one of your idiosyncrasies! One of your little jokes! ‘Yes, darling, as soon as we are married, you’ll magically shrink down to two inches in height, and it’s not reversible’. Nobody would believe such nonsense!”

“Look at yourself, little love. Is it really nonsense? Besides, there have been a few men that believed this would happen. Their names are inscribed in the Great Book of-“

A few men? You mean there are others? How many times have you done this?”

“Don’t be silly. You know this is my first marriage- Sorry, my only marriage. I’m talking about other marriages. This has been happening since the beginning of time, my love. You are not the first, nor the last, and you are certainly not the only one.”

“What are you? You never told me you were an alien. You should have told me!”

“Alright, now you’re being ridiculous. There are no such things as ‘aliens’. I’ve always told you the truth. I’m from here. It’s just a different Here.”

“The truth. Here’s the truth: Grow me back, or I want a divorce. Stop laughing. Stop laughing!

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry! You’re just so funny sometimes. You make me so happy. And no, there’s no growing you back. Once our timelines are inextricably intertwined, you shrink and stay that way forever. I know I explained that to you several times.”

“I thought it was some fairy tale or joke.”

“Why would I joke about your existence? Also, there’s no divorce. We’ve been married for two weeks now; I’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“When we left for our honeymoon, I spent the entire flight in your pocket.”

“Not the entire flight, honey.”

“You’re not seriously bringing that up again.”

“I know you had fun.”

“I was crying and… or shrieking the entire time!”

“That’s not all you did. I saw.”

“And then you almost drowned me.”

“I’ve apologized about that! How was I to know you didn’t do your breathing exercises as I ordered?”

“And that’s another thing. You keep ordering me about. I’m a man. I’m my own boss. I’m the head of this family, and I expect you to defer to my authority. Why are you- fuck, I wish you’d stop laughing at me.”

“I’m- Oh, god. I can’t breathe! Oh, that was so precious! And you are quite wrong, sweetie. You are my husband and my love, but you are also completely mine, as much as you were when you were a big guy. I’m the head of this family, and as always, what I say goes.”

“So that’s it, then. I’m now this bit of flesh that can’t do anything on his own. I’m a lump, without a job, college education gone to waste. I don’t know what you’re going to tell my parents. I don’t know what I’m gonna tell the guys next Sunday.”

“Nothing, of course. Your parents love you, and they’ll keep the secret, but everyone else has forgotten you ever existed.”

“What?!”

“You understand we can’t make it known that our husbands shrink. We can’t allow that fact to be widely known. It would be terrible for this here. It was catastrophic when it happened Here. We don’t want a repeat of that. It’s for your own safety.”

“How could you do that? How could you do this to me? I’ve given you no permission to destroy everything about my life like this!”

“Enough. I don’t need your permission. Now, August is in the know. He’s your best friend, and I know you love him. He’ll be here every night next week for training, and he can take you to the game if he learns to handle you properly.”

“To handle me?”

“Of course. You are my precious toy, and I don’t want anyone to break you.”

“Your t-toy?”

“Yes, my toy. C’mon, darling. Don’t look so forlorn. It may not feel that way yet, but this is how life is supposed to be. You are here to make me happy, and the happier I am, the better the world will be.”

“What about my happiness? What about my dreams? What about what I want?”

“Your wants and needs are secondary to mine. I adore you, and I’ll make sure your life is full and happy, but never as a counterweight to my own fulfillment and joy. You’ll complement me. You already do. I feel a tremendous amount of peace simply because you are here, with me, in my hand, talking to me.”

“You’re squeezing me a little hard right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’ok…. What you said… about making sure my life is full… what does that mean?”

“It means you’re not just going to sit around and do nothing all day long, simply because you’re tiny. You’ll make friends, have duties, learn many new things, and eventually, depending on your skills, assume responsibilities.”

“Like what?”

“You are artistically inclined. There ample room Here for a creative mind such as yours. The Great Book of Gifts needs to be archived, and the Husbands of the Heart are doing a wonderful job of it.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“You will. Now, enough talk. It’s time for your bath, and I think we have enough time for a quickie before your parents get here.”

Calm

Calm

“Why am I stretching?”

“Shh…”

“It’s not as though I’m going to get any taller.”

“Please, be quiet.”

“I don’t like yoga.”

“That’s not yoga. We’re not doing yoga.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“We’re relaxing.”

“Can’t we relax indoors?”

“Do you know why I brought you to the beach in the middle of October?”

“No…”

“Because I’d like to drown you.”

“What?!”

“But I’m not going to. Instead of picking up your little body and holding it underwater until it stops moving, I’m sitting here, erasing all thought from my mind, and trying to remember everything I like about you.”

“What did I do?!”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“Why are you so mad at me then? Talking about drowning me. That’s not nice.”

“Do you want to know what’s not nice? I could tell you everything you do that’s not nice. Instead, I’m going to sit here and think good thoughts. It’s either that or packing up your few belongings and kicking you to the curb.”

“I don’t even know what I did wrong!”

“I remember when I met you. I’d seen small men before. Even dated a few. Almost married one. When I saw you I forgot every other man I’d ever met, big or small.”

“You wanted me.”

“I did. More than anyone else on Earth. That’s why I took you the way I did. I knew you were in need, the way you were working that corner, eyeing every woman that drove by, ducking out of sight when you saw the drivers were men.”

“Then I saw you.”

“I stopped the car long enough to open the door and grab you. I didn’t even ask you how much for the night.”

“And I didn’t say.”

“And I never paid.”

“And I never left.”

“You never left.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“You can be so sweet at times. So tender. That’s when I delight in every word that comes out of your mouth. When I come home and you run to my side, stretching your little arms to be picked up when you can’t even reach my knee.”

“I like to see you when you come home. I like the way you pick me up and hold me close, and kiss my whole face at once.”

“I like that too. I like it when you ask me how my day was, and you get mad at the people that made me angry. I really like when you lift your hands to my lips and massage away their tightness, your tiny fingers smoothing over every pucker and wrinkle.”

“You don’t have any wrinkles.”

“Lines. I mean lines. And wrinkles? I’m starting to… just look at this eleven shape between my eyebrows.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t scowl at me so much.”

“Maybe you should stop making me.”

“I don’t-”

“Shh. I like your voice. I like the way it makes my heart beat faster even though I haven’t been running. I like the horrible sounds you make when you sing-”

“Hey! You said you like my voice!”

“I do. I love your voice, but you can’t sing for shit.”

“I’ll have you know I used to sing lead vocals in a very popular group back in the day.”

“You have an appalling singing voice, but I’d take your singing any day, over any other singing.”

“Even Luciano Pavarotti’s?”

“Anyone living.”

”Hah!”

“I like that you’ve stuck around this long. I like to wake up and see your little body next to mine, my panties your blanket tangled around your legs. I like to bring my face to your body and breathe in your scent… which is usually my scent, left to marinate overnight.”

“I’d really like a bath every night.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“I had to try. So, if you like me so much, what’s wrong?”

“I like the way you walk. Your little legs barely covering any ground at all, but your stride is so confident, you look like you’re stepping over mountains. You are a giant in the body of a toy-sized man.”

“That sounds weird… I don’t feel giant.”

”I like the way you make me forget my worries when we’re together.”

“I sound great! I don’t know what the problem is, then.”

“The problem is, this is not real.”

“What’s not real? What do you mean?”

“You. Me. None of this is real.”

“Stop. This is real.”

“It’s not. You’re not here. I’m not here. This is not a real place.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Every day is the same: I wake up first, and wake you up. We have breakfast. I go to work. Next thing you know, I’m back. Then we have a nice, relaxed evening, or we go out. We go on trips together. Our holidays are wonderful. But nothing is real.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

“Why is it that you never talk about yourself?”

“I don’t- I don’t like to talk about my personal details.”

“Really? Personal details? In this world, you belong to me, but you can’t tell me your phone number?”

“That’s priv- I mean… we have the same phone number. Oh, god. What’s happening?”

“Every night is the same: the sun sets, and I tell you the truth. You and I met online at a VR station. We were roleplaying this whole size world when you had a stroke, and collapsed on the floor. I wasn’t there to witness the event. To me, it only seemed as though you dropped the connection, and decided to ghost me. I didn’t hear about you again until your girlfriend contacted me-”

“My what?!”

“Your girlfriend. The woman you love. The one holding your real hand right now, waiting for you to wake up from a deep coma. She’s been waiting for a year.”

“Please, stop. Shut up. No more.”

“Every night I tell you she found me. As it turned out, every time they tried to unhook you from our VR world, you died. I don’t know how she figured it out. Something about the VR unit being stuck to your port all the way to the hospital or something like that. The point is, she contacted the VR company, and got them to release my name. Got lawyers involved and everything. One day I’m bringing the laundry in from the line, and there’s a knock on the door. After she explained everything, she begged me to help. She had tried hooking up to your environment from her own account to no avail. It was only when I entered it using mine as I used to do that I saw you there. Waiting. Working that corner and looking in every direction like you were lost.”

“No. No no no no.”

“Yes. That’s why you fight my getting close to you. That’s why you don’t love me, and never will. You need to wake up and get back to reality. She needs you. She’s waiting for you.”

“Stop. Stop fucking with me. You’re lying. I can’t believe you can be this cruel.”

“I’m only here to help. At the expense of my own life, and my own heart. Wake up soon, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know. And you will.”

“No! I want to go to our home. Our house. Where we live.”

“We don’t have a house. We don’t have anything. But shh. That’s enough for today. Come to me, sweetie. I’ll take you back inside that fake beach house, and hold you and love you one more night, and when you wake up you’ll remember everything about today, except this conversation. You’ll be happy. I might be a little happy too. Sometimes I am. Then, when the sun sets, I’ll try again.”

 

Need

Laughter.jpg

He sat on her chin, making a distinct effort not to laugh every time she tried to peer at him over the summit of her nose. Her eyes crossed before she closed one, then the other, trying to look around each of her nostrils to catch a blurry glimpse of his tiny shape. Why she chose to set him on her chin was beyond his ken, like so many things she did or said. He bit his lip and listened to saliva clicking in her mouth as the muscles that governed her lips began to shape words. She was about to say something. He dug into her soft flesh with his little hands. He knew his hold was meaningless if her words were strong enough to buck.

“I need a story.”

“A story?” he asked, feeling himself bob up and down helplessly as her jaw stretched. He could hear muscles longer than his body play with the opening of her mouth, even if he could not see them inside her head. He wondered why he had asked her that when he heard her so clearly, instead of making sure she said as little as possible. Instead of doing all he could to avoid being hurled into her heavily guarded mouth, even if by accident. She answered with a frustrated gust of warm wind hitting him square in the everywhere before she reiterated her demand.

“Yes. Tell me a story.”

“I-I don’t know any.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Can I move to your chest? Every time you say anything, I feel I’m going to fall off and tumble down either side of your head, and crack my skull so many feet down to the ground.

“Inches.”

“Feet to me.”

“Yes, but inches. And you’re not going to fall. You’re going to sit there and tell me a story.”

He clutched handfuls of her skin as tightly as he could. His fingers, infinitesimal as they were, could not compete with whatever moisturizer from hell she applied to her face every morning. Even when he dug his heels into the border of her lower lip line and turned his feet into wedges between it and the protrusion of that massive swath of pink flesh, he felt as unsteady as a leaf in the wind- no, a leaf in the gutter, to be swallowed by darkness too profound to contemplate. Still, he thought, and thought, and came up with nothing. Rather than say as much, he recited his own life to her.

“Once upon a time there was a man. His name was-”

“Stop!”

“What? I’m telling you my story.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m… I feel alarmed to know your name, after all this time.”

“How do you know it’s my name, and not just a made-up bunch of random words?”

“Because I know. I know things. Like how I knew I could shrink you even though such things are impossible.”

“I see. I guess you do know, because I was about to tell you what used to be my name. We both know that’s not my name now.”

She sighed so hard, she almost blew him off her. And she didn’t notice.

“Go on.”

“His name was Orton Ransom McGillis- Hey! Watch it!”

It was clear she was trying to contain her mirth, and badly. She was biting her lower lip, and the skin on her chin felt dimpled and taut under him. She was gasping and about to throw him off.

“Stop! You’re gonna make me fall.”

She kept at it for a few seconds longer before her amusement was brought to check, but not before she sighed a bit too happily.

“Aren’t you happy your name is Toy now?”

“Yeah, sure. Ecstatic. Look, do I tell you a story, or can I get off now?”

“Not yet. Go on, tell me your story. I’m sorry.”

“OK, that’s better. So, his name was Orton, and he worked in the porn industry-”

What?!

“Just- let me finish.”

Again, contained laughter about 5.4 on the Richter scale. He waited it out, wishing for a dark corner in which to hide. Once it was over, he cleared his throat and went on.

“Poor, misunderstood Orton worked in the porn industry composing summaries for porn films. His carefully worded descriptions and delicately crafted keywords filled the world of Internet porn and the still existing DVD market. The money was adequate, but the hours were hell. One particularly grueling day, Orton made his way to his car. He was exhausted, and not paying attention to his surroundings. When he was unlocking his car, he caught movement on the side window’s reflection, and turned his head long enough to see a woman reach his side.

He turned to defend himself, but instead stood there as she smiled at him, and brought her face up to his, and kissed him fully on the lips. He was so startled by her behavior that the prick in his neck went almost unnoticed. What he did notice was that everything turned into darkness then, and when he came to, nothing looked familiar. He would not realize for a full minute that he had been taken from his life, his work, and everything he once knew, and transformed into a two-inch tall man-”

“Man?”

“Man. I’m a man, no matter what you say or how you treat me.”

“Shush. Don’t tempt me to prove your wrong. Finish your story.”

“So, this little man finally made sense of the roaring sound that assaulted his senses, and understood it to be the engine of a car. He finally made sense of the heat surrounding him, and understood it to be mountains of smooth human flesh. He finally made sense of the coarse texture on which he stood, and understood it to be the seat of a car. The driver’s seat.”

The wall of her lower lip stretched into a smirk, and Orton, now Toy, read her thoughts in it. He knew she was thinking of what she made him do as soon as he recovered consciousness. No explanation, not a single demonstration of care, or an attempt to assuage his fears. His panic. His horror. He graduated from man to sex toy that very moment. Magna cum loudly.

“Go on….”

“After months of being treated like an object, Orton began to think of himself as one. He stopped begging to be regrown or returned to his life. He didn’t have to work anymore, except as a human dildo for the woman that shrank and took him. He had zero responsibilities, except to keep her satisfied. His family, his friends, everyone that had once known him were still grieving for him, looking for him, crying for him; but the woman, his owner, didn’t care. She wanted him so badly, none of that mattered.”

“Poor, unfortunate Orton.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’ve always said I’m the luckiest toy in the world.”

“I’m talking about Orton, not you. You are the luckiest toy in the world.”

“Anyway. Orton made peace with his fate, and realized his place was with this giant woman that loved him as the most precious thing in the world.”

“The universe.”

“The universe.”

“The universes. Reality. Realities. All dimensions.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Is that what I am to you? The most precious thing in all universes dimensions everything?”

“Yes. Everything, everywhere, and beyond, where there is nothing and nowhere. You are the most important nothing there too.”

“Hmm. Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you like my story?”

“Yes, I loved it.”

“Can I get off now?”

“No, Toy. Ladies first.”

The ABCs Game – E is for Eye

EyeToEye
E
is for Eye – ‘ī n [ME, fr. OE ēage; akin to OHG ouga eye, L oculus, Gk ōps, eye, face, Skt akṣi eye] (bef. 12c) 1. a: an organ of sight; esp: a nearly spherical hollow organ that is lined with a sensitive retina, is lodged in a bony orbit in the skull, is the vertebrate organ of sight, and is normally paired.

I love word derivations. When I was a child and read the dictionary because it was fun, etymologies were always the best part. This blog entry was first created eight years ago, right about the time I stopped playing this word game. My muse started packing his things, and all I ever typed here was the above paragraph, and this thought, “It is that giant shape that peers into your window….”

I then added this post to my drafts and left it there to rot. Last night I was inspired soon after I began looking for the components for the accompanying collage, and while going to the store I thought of the words that belong here. All day yesterday people tried to talk to me, and they had to get my attention several times because I was lost in my world. I was lost in this.

* * *

Look at me.
Good.

What is your name?
Wrong. Your name is Toy.

Where is your home?
Wrong. I am your home.

Who is your family?
Wrong. I am your owner.

Look at me.
Stop crying.

Who did this to you?
That’s right. I did this to you.

Open your eyes.
Tell me what you see.

Come here, come closer.
I gave you an order.

Very well, you leave me no choice.
Stop screaming, I won’t hurt you.

I’m only closing my fingers around you, and doing your work for you.
Now look. Look. Open your eyes. Dry them.

Now touch me with both hands.
Yes, there. Reach over my thumb and touch me.

How does it feel?
Yes. What else? Press harder.

Close your eyes and see with your body.
Thunder? No, that’s not thunder.

That’s my heartbeat. That’s my blood.
Rushing there for you.

Put your hands back where I told you.
Follow my orders.

Now feel the heat.
The air down there is thicker. Wetter.

Do not move your hands away.
Or I will keep them there for you.

Tell me your name.
Wrong.

Tell me your name.
Good.

Open your eyes.
You are learning.

Look up. Look at my face.
I don’t care if it hurts your neck.

Tell me my name.
Good.

Show me your home.
Confused still?

Look down again.
Look with your eyes, and with your hands.

That’s your home.
I’m your home.

Push hard. Harder.
Do you hear that?

That’s all for you.
It’s coming for you.

I’m going to put you down now.
Don’t run. Don’t cry.

Alright, keep crying.
But run and I’ll take over.

No more learning.
Only teaching.

Good Toy.
Now come home.

* * *

Sameness

Handsy.jpg

It’s Saturday, so that means…

RANDOM COLLAGE TIME!

And do you want to know how I felt when creating the above image earlier today? I felt old-school. I felt antiquated and weird because I’m using real photos of hands, and not using a program with digital images of ready-made hands. Oh, well. Until I figure out how to work my Daz and Poser, this is how it’s going to be. Old-school.

Oh, great. I can already see ten things I need to fix. ARGH.

What did you say?

What did you say?

“Hey, giantess!”

Hey is for horses.”

“Uh, OK. So…”

“So?”

“I’m here!”

“So I see.”

“So… what are you going to do to me?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Dunno. Are you going to pick me up between your fingers? Put me in your mouth? I’d like that very much. And if you’re feeling frisky, you can put me down your pan-”

“Oh, fuck. Not another freak.”

“W- what?”

“Are you insane? Why would I put you in my mouth? Or anywhere else?”

“Because you are a giantess. That’s what you do.”

“You have your head stuck on Incident 109. I suggest you snap out of it. Most of us don’t do that shit.”

“Speaking of shit, I wouldn’t mind it if you take a dump on me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah. Just take me with you to the Great Brown, and-”

“The “great” what? Jesus, is that what you little people are calling it now?”

“Yeah. The pictures of it from space, and just the color, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess. Look, I’m not taking you with me anywhere. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. You are one of those little weirdos that get off on weird shit.”

“Oh, please. Are you going to tell me you never put any of us… you know… in there?”

“What is wrong with you? You’ve never met me in your entire life, and you just start talking to me in such a manner? How can you be so disrespectful?”

“…”

“Good. You appear to be thinking. Have a nice day.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“My name is… er, G- Gonzo.”

“Really? ‘Gonzo’?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“I can’t tell you my real name. I’m sure you understand.”

“Why is that?”

“I have… I need to be careful about who sees me with you.”

“You do realize there are cameras on me all the time.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done anything bad yet.”

“Nor will you.”

“Oh, c’mon! Please do something to me. I don’t care what! Just touch me. Put me in your hand. Let me hump your thumb!”

“Listen, you seem like a really stupid guy, so I’m going to tell you how it is: I’m not at all interested in touching you. Ever.”

“But it’s no trouble to you! All I want is-”

“Shut up. I don’t give a fuck what you want. Now, you know we’re not supposed to kill you little worms, but I’ll make an exception for you if you don’t stop talking right now. I want you to listen to me, and then I want you to go away. If I ever see you again, I will hunt down your family, and kill them all, one by one, and I’ll make sure you get to watch me do it. Then I’ll find your friends. I can, you know? I can smell each of them on you. I’ll hunt down every scent on your body, and I’ll kill every person you’ve ever met, and talked to. I’ll crush your pets, your home, your city. I’ll destroy the things you like, the actors you prefer, the books you’ve read. If you’ve ever read a single book. I doubt it. Good. Now I have your attention. Stop crying and listen up.

I’ve lost everything. Do you understand what that feels like? You don’t. Not yet. When I grew, it happened suddenly, the same way it happened to the rest of us. I killed my children and my husband with my giant body. I didn’t mean to, but they were eating next to me at the table. They never saw me coming. I never saw me coming. Then, naked, I crouched in rubble and decay for an entire week, alone and desperate, because I couldn’t move from the pain. Neighbors ran from me, or took shots at me with their guns. I wished that had worked, but as I’m sure even someone like you knows, I can’t ever die. I was so thirsty I thought I’d surely die, but for a week I was there, alone, hearing their screams, and feeling their hate. Then I sat in a giant cage for a year, until everyone figured out we could not be stopped, and I had to help with Incident 109. Yeah, that was me.

I have no friends except those of my kind. I have to shit in a field, and every time I do, pictures of my expanding and contracting asshole hit the Internet. I can’t read my books anymore. I don’t have the job for which I studied for years. I can’t watch TV, because I’m on it all the time. No one your kind talks to me except to say stupid shit as you did, or ask me the dumbest questions. I battle the impulse to destroy you every day. I get up in the morning and I want to create something, but all I see is an occupied canvas I want to wipe clean. You are that canvas. Do you feel me now? I’m not here to entertain or get you off. When I get off, it will be with someone I pick, someone with half a brain. He will get to go in my pocket. He will be picked up and caressed and considered and loved. I will listen to his words, and pay attention to his wishes.

You? You can die now.”

* * *

Collaging Notes

Season 4/5 of Rescue Me came out many years ago, back when I was starting to blog, or already blogging. I can’t remember. I do recall seeing the ad campaign for it, and thought it looked great. I think I also wanted to do something to “fix” one of the images, and that’s what I finally got around to doing. There wasn’t much to do, since the giantess part was already done. I only added a man who had the right pose, and changed her eyes, which should always be looking at the guy, even if he’s a little jerk. Then I altered shadows and highlights so it looks like the light on him is coming from a different direction, and I added his shadow. That was the hardest part, as I had to study other shadows in the image, and make his look halfway real. I could spend more time on it, but I’m not going to. This is not exactly a collage that makes me happy. It came from a different place… not sure which one yet. It’ll come to me, as I work on the blog entry.

Gentle April 2017: Time to Vote

BetterVote
I can see it in the audience overview data shown with Google analytics. You’ve been reading the stories every day. Lovely, gentle stories written by:

Undersquid
Aborigen
Nyx
Will Edgecomb
Crushed Boy Wonder
Little Comrade
Pedro Fellini
MoonlightUmbry
Taedis
Nodqfan
Nostory
Giantess Tina
Versusterminus7
Nemo
0neGenericWord
Olo
gruffmcmilitary
ryan the rebel

Now it’s time to choose your favorite stories. Pick your three preferred in each category, and hit the submit button to make your voice count. There are still a few days left to do this, but only a few. Go vote!