Valerian and the scene of a thousand triggers

“Okay, let’s have a look at you.”

[Shrieks]

“Not at me, tiger. Come on.”

[Whimpers]

“Don’t be scared. I’ll look after you.”

[Chirps]

“Come on. [Gasps] Hello.”

[Squeaks]

“Wow. You have the most incredible eyes.”

[Chirps]

[Giggles] “Okay, you’re a little scabby, so why don’t we get you a nice treatment so you can get your mojo back?”

[Purrs]

“Sound good?”

[Chirps]

“Come on. Some high-grade uranium, and you’ll be good as new. Hang on, tiger.”

I dare anyone (mostly myself) to watch the above scene in Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets, and not imagine a shrunken little individual inside that cage. I know I did. I did to the degree I had to stop watching the movie so I could talk about my feelings. Many feelings. I have a thing about cages and writing stories about the kind of living trinkets kept in such cages and what happens to those trinkets once those cages are transported to the home of their new owner. Typically, the owner looks a lot like me, and she says (the same way Laureline said to Valerian) to whatever boyfriend/husband/nearest giant around, “He’s very cute, you know? And a real charmer. You may have some competition.”

I’d say no giant can compare to the idea of a shrunken man, but I can’t say that since I perceive all giants as smaller than me.

Other great lines from the movie:

“There. That one is a male.”
“How can you tell?”
“Oh, they are much smaller than the females.”

“I thought you said they weren’t aggressive.”
“Except when you take their little buddy.”

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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.

* * *

 

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.”

 

The ABCs Game – F is for Farts

giantess_div___tims_workout_4_6_by_deviantkibate
“Giantess Div – Tim’s workout 4/6” by DeviantKibate

I… don’t know where I’m going with this. I’m thinking about it now, and you are just sitting there, so you might as well listen.

* * *

Gabriel Maurice Sanchez, experiment No. 132, walked into his psychiatrist’s office and kept on walking. He only measured four inches in height, so it took him a while to reach the side of the comparatively gigantic seat. Once there, he stood still and waited. Doctor Pembrose, a noted mental health practitioner specializing in the treatment of shrunken people, raised his gaze from the iPad he was holding and welcomed him in.

“Gabe, how are you? Please, sit down.”

“Hi, Dr. Pembrose. I’m OK. Just let me…”

“Do forgive me,” said the doctor, lifting his enormous form from an ornate chair, and offering Gabe his palm. Gabe climbed in, visibly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Gabe. The new chair has not arrived yet. It’s currently airplane cargo, if these updates are to be believed. It’s too bad only the Japanese are true masters of miniature furniture.”

The doctor pressed the back of his hand gently on the cushion of his patients’ seat, and waited for Gabe to waddle off his palm and onto the velvety surface. He waited still, until Gabe reached the back, turned to face him, and slid down to sit, a ridiculously small shape drowning in the red fabric background. Once his patient seemed as comfortable as he was ever going to get, Dr. Pembrose returned to his seat, lifting the iPad and swiping the smooth screen with his finger, to access what he had highlighted from their previous session. He gave the device a quick nod, and looked at Gabe again, smiling negligibly.

“Tell me, how did the conversation with your wife go?”

Gabe’s cheeks turned red, and his eyes gave a new gleam, but no tears ran down his tiny cheeks. He swallowed and spoke quietly. The doctor didn’t have to strain to listen. He had installed a microphone in the seat, and it allowed him to listen to every word his patients spoke. They had enough to deal with, being so small. They didn’t need to contend with a giant tilting his head to pretend it might help him listen to them when he was only here to help.

“She didn’t want to listen. She says I’m her toy, and if she wants to fart on me, she will. She said she loves me, but she owns me….”

Gabe words trailed off, and he seemed trapped in thought until the doctor spoke again.

“Did you tell her you are not a toy, but a man? A real man that was shrunken violently, without permission?”

“I told her everything we discussed. I sat down with her… on her, last week after dinner, and I began to tell her how it makes me feel when she lets them rip, and she’s sitting on my body, and doesn’t even stop to go to the bathroom like I’ve asked her. I told her it makes my- you know. My… erection go away. I have to tell her because she doesn’t even notice, or doesn’t care to look. She just keeps sliding and rocking in place, until she’d done! Sometimes she farts on me more than once, especially after we’ve eaten Mexican food. That’s another thing, doc. I kept a record just like you said, and I knew I was right! I knew it! We’re now eating more Mexican food than ever. She’s even started preparing Indian food, which she never did before.”

“Please, go on.”

“I told her it’s disrespectful… no, I told her I feel like she doesn’t respect me. I feel hurt and mistreated. I don’t want to tell her I’m going to report her yet. I don’t think she’d like that.”

“Let’s stop there for just a moment, Gabe. Report your wife? For what reason?”

“Mistreatment of an illegally shrunken person. I’ve looked it up.”

“Have you found a particular passage that relates directly to what you are experiencing?”

“Well, no. There’s nothing about farting on a tiny person, but I’m sure if I find the right lawyer…”

“Gabe, I’m concerned about the notion of taking your wife to court. I have to tell you that I’ve seen similar cases in court before, and none result in satisfaction for the plaintiff. Not yet, in any case. But most importantly, what effect do you think that will have on your marriage?”

“It’ll make my wife stop farting on me! Seriously, doc, I’ll do anything at this point. Anything to get her to stop.”

“Very well.”

“Yeah. I mean, I love her. I love her with all my heart. And I guess she loves me. She didn’t have to marry someone so small. She could have just… she was going out with my handler, you know… that’s how we met. I’ve told you this.”

“Go on, Gabe. I’m here to listen. Say whatever’s on your mind.”

“OK. Well… my handler was taking me to get groceries, and he saw her at the store, and he wasn’t going to say hi, on account of the rules, you know? “Never take your attention away from your charge,” and all that… but she saw him and she came over, and then she saw me. And I was the first one she’d see up close like that. He told her they couldn’t talk on account of me, and instead of giving me a venomous look like they all do, she smiled and winked at me. I couldn’t breathe. Somehow we kept bumping into her at the oddest times and places, and then… she got her Handler’s license. That’s when my handler proposed, and instead of saying yes, she broke it off. She never told him why, but he must have figured it out when we got married.

So, you see? She could have married someone she’d never have to watch over constantly and carefully; someone who can’t ever get a job doing what I used to do…. Do you know how long I’d last as an engineer? Probably less than a minute. So here I am, going to school again, being a burden and a worry to her, but still a man. A real man with all my real parts. Did I tell you she wants to start having children? What’s going to happen then? How can someone my size be a father? Farts will be the least of my worries! Diapers? Teething? Walking? Tantrums? Teen years! College!”

“Gabe, take a deep breath now. I want you to breathe deeply. Your cheeks seem a little blue. Let’s pause for a couple of minutes, shall we?”

“OK, OK!” Gabe did feel faint. His mind was swirling with heavy thoughts, one darker than the next. He let them all slow down, and focused on letting air in and out of his chest. He did that for a few minutes while Dr. Pembrose looked at him with a great deal of attention, making sure he wasn’t witnessing a medical emergency. There was such care in his eyes; it was obvious. Even if he couldn’t up and tell his wife to stop farting on his patient, he was truly there for him. It felt nice.

“Listen, doc… thanks. Thank you for listening, really. I’m not going to sue my wife. She says she owns me, maybe she does. I don’t know. I don’t think she means it in a negative way if that makes any sense. She might say I’m her property, but her life is centered around me. She might tell me I’m not a man, but she seeks me out all day long, so she can do to me things women do to men. She calls me all manner of unmanly names when she’s in the throes… but then she lifts me up and cleans me and kisses me and hugs me so sweetly.

I’m confused. I was so upset about it. I have been so angry about it since it started happening with real frequency, these last two months! And now it- I’m- I feel different. I don’t know how to explain it. I can’t say it doesn’t matter anymore because it does. I hate it. I guess… what I mean is, I have to make a choice here. My choice is to go down a path that will perhaps get her to stop farting on me, but then I risk losing her. I don’t want that. I hate the thought of that more than anything; more than the thought of her farts.”

The doctor sat quietly, listening, nodding imperceptibly, his face impassive. Gabe went on.

“Maybe if I learn how to cook. I’ve heard of kitchens that are set up to accommodate a tiny chef. Maybe I can change her diet so her farts aren’t as overwhelming. What do you think?”

“I’ve heard of those kitchens. I saw a show about them last week. The woman that had her home redesigned to fit her needs was doing a wonderful job with a frittata.”

Gabe sighed and smiled.

“I’ll have to look into that. The coping classes I’m taking are mostly just common sense stuff, and I’m ready to get on with my professional life. When I was normal sized I couldn’t even boil water, but I’ll give cooking a try. If I can control what goes in, then at least I have some say about what happens when it all comes out.”

“Let me know what happens when we see each other next week, will you?”

“Yes, doc.”

* * *

If you don’t love me now

kiss__request__by_hangry_female
“Kiss -Request-” by Hangry-Female

“You will never love me.”

“I won’t.”

“I am lovable.”

“You are, but that’s not the way it works.”

“I’ll make you love me.”

“You made me small, but you can’t make me love you.”

“This is not turning out the way I thought it would.”

“What ever does?”

“My cakes. My bread. My tomatoes. My drinking.”

“Small potatoes.”

“You are small potatoes.”

“I’m small, but I’m not a potato.”

“You are a couch potato.”

“I’m a panty potato. The only times I ever spend on a couch is when you are on a couch, wearing me inside your panties.”

“Why won’t you love me?”

“Neediness is a turn-off.”

“I don’t need you. I just want you.”

“Then what do you care how I feel?”

“I don’t know. This is a new feeling. I’ve never cared about the faces you made, or the grimaces, or the screams. Now I find myself wondering what you’re thinking about, who you want to fuck, where you want to be.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“No.”

“What can I do better?”

“Nothing. My heart was already taken when you did this to me. I think of my wife every morning when I wake up, and when I go to sleep, and every moment in between, when you are using me.”

“She’s forgotten you.”

“What?!”

“Yes, she’s moved on. She has a new boyfriend now, and she’s stopped looking for you. Your daughter doesn’t even remember you.”

“This is why I don’t love you, and never will. You are cruel beyond measure. You stole my life from me. You made me into nothing but a sex toy. I had everything, and now I have nothing.”

“I had nothing, and now I have everything.”

“Is your life so centered around sex that this ‘everything’ has to be a tiny man you use to fulfill your sexual needs?”

“Yes. I go mad when I don’t use you. I’m distracted. I can’t work. I can’t function. You are my air, and I feel you in my heart.”

“That’s pathetic. You should be able to function without me.”

“I should, but I don’t. I’d fall apart.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so. I think you should try to be without me for a time, and see how you do.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Suit yourself. But I think it’s sad that you can’t live your life unless I’m around.”

“I can. I simply don’t want to.”

“There’s nothing simple about this.”

‘It is very simple. I want you. I always want you. I want you with me all the time. And there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing. Everything has gone wrong for you because of me. You have lost everything and everyone, but for the first time in my life, I can breathe, and my heart doesn’t hurt. When I look at you I feel… full. Complete.”

“I find you boring. I miss my wife and the way she moves around the kitchen when she cooks for me. I miss the way her voice lifts when she wants to go see a movie. I miss the way she walks past me and leaves a trail of her scent for me to follow. I miss the way she bossed me around about things I found absolutely annoying. I miss mowing my lawn. I miss everything about my life, and if you brought me back, I’d never think of you, except in my nightmares.”

“Fuck. That hurts.”

“Good. It’s true. All of it.”

“I don’t care. You fill my heart. You fill me with joy,”

“One day I’ll hate you.”

“Maybe, but until then, kiss me, little toy.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll just make you kiss me.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“It is. You are mine. You will always be mine, no matter how you feel, or for whom you cum, or what’s left of your soul wants. You don’t know it, but every molecule of yours is mine, beyond love, beyond thoughts, beyond feelings. Love your wife. Think about your wife. I don’t care. Your body belongs to me, and when you open your eyes and mind, you are mine too. Every two inches of you. Kiss me.”

“No!”

“No? But you are. Look at you, kissing me now. Look at your lips, puckering up over mine, touching and feeling and swelling.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t! Stop!”

“Kiss me again. And again, and again. Never stop.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. You love this. You love being tiny. You love being a sex toy. You love being two inches tall.”

“I don’t love you. I will never love you!”

“Kiss me. I feel enough for the both of us.”

“I hate you, you fucking psycho.”

“I love you. You are mine, forever. Kiss me. Bend your body into my mouth. Sink your face into my lips, and press your hands on the pink wall of me.”

“I’m broken. Nothing I do has heart.”

“My heart is big enough for the both of us. My love gives you purpose. Hate me if you must. Be bored. Love your wife. Wish for her with all your might. You’ll never see her again. You’ll see me every day, feel me every morning, and make me feel everything I want to feel every time I want.”

“If you loved me, you’d take me back.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’d want me to be happy.”

“Wrong, little one. I give your life more purpose than anything you’d find out there. Because of you I can breathe, eat, think, feel, live. You are everything. Out there you’d be an echelon in the tiny lives of little people that have moved on without you. Here with me you are an universe.”

“Fuck you. You are insane.”

“I’m as sane as you are. I only take what’s mine, and you are mine. It doesn’t matter how you feel or what you say. Kiss me again.”

“No!”

“And again…”

“No!”

“And again…”

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.

* * *

Sacrifice

Sacrifice

Honestly, I think I only create these because I love handheld images so much. And then I like to overuse filters. In the past I’ve spent time online just looking for Photoshop Elements filters, no matter how useless they end up being. The original image is here. And what’s behind it? A number of things. As usual, I sat here and opened up my Pixton account with nothing in mind; but as soon as I slapped my avatar in the frame, I knew it was a handheld image. Then it came to me it was a conversation between a 203.5′ tall giantess, and the normal-sized man with whom she’s been having carnal knowledge.

As I typed the words, what I wanted to see was revealed. As always, I satisfy the impossibility of a relationship between a giantess and a man through these bursts of creativity. She holds him in her hand, and she’s only known him for a few days, but she’s heartbroken to leave him. Naturally we assume he is also distraught by this separation. At least they were together, while she… and here’s where I become a sitting cliche. Yeah, the giantess is an alien.

She’s an extraterrestrial being who’s there to explore and survey and find food for her people. And the little ones on that planet are the food. I don’t like vore (except the gentle kind), but that’s where the story went. She promises she’ll be back with some hungry friends (naturally), and that’s when, finally, the little man gathers enough courage to tell her that in all the confusion and passion of the last few days, he neglected to tell her that he’d prefer if she didn’t annihilate his race.

At that point she’d do anything for him, including subjecting her entire race to an eternal diet of klumpus (suffice it to say, it tastes like off-brand Cheetos –or worse, crunchy cheese snacks made by a health-food brand– at least until her kind realizes she lied in her report). That’s her sacrifice. And his is to leave everything behind for her, because that’s what you do when your beloved packs up and climbs aboard a spaceship to never come back. You go with her. Any other response would be rude.

And I love that super non sexy idea (well, probably for most) of transforming your entire life for another person, because of what they are. Sure, when the time comes to shrink someone, that man has no choice but to realize he’s now entering a new time in his life, and everything is different now. Nothing he knew before, he’ll be able to bring into his life when he becomes the possession of that woman who now owns him.

But… guess what? She’s also making an enormous sacrifice. That small life depends entirely upon her care. All the worries! She makes one simple mistake, and he dies, and there is no coming back from that, no matter what the stories tell you about going back to the pet store and buying another little man. In my world, the bond between owner and toy is unbreakable, and irreplaceable.

But yeah… her friends can eat his neighbors, I guess. What do I care?

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.

Gone Shopping – Part 2

Gone_Shopping_2

The story continues… The complete strip exists here, and at Pixton.com.

* * * 

My cheeks were still on fire when I reached over and grabbed his little body. All I wanted was to comfort him, when his reaction, again, shocked me. He started punching at the webbing between my thumb and index finger, slamming his little fists with as much fury as I’d ever seen in a little creature. They felt like little caresses, and I tried not to smile, because his face was contorted in a mixture of rage and horror. I could see he was trying to form words with his mouth, but failing.

“Hey, easy there. Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” He finally found his words.

“Put- me- down- you- great- beast! I’m- not- a sex- toy!”

Then I understood. He thought I’d picked him up to ram him inside my body, or some other distasteful idea. I must have grimaced, because he stopped punching me, or at least he slowed down a bit, and added puzzlement to the list of events happening to his features.

“Well, you are sold as one, so I guess you’re programmed to resist the idea? That’s strange. Who had the notion that women like to be fought off in bed? Or found it attractive to be repulsive? Because, let me tell you, the only disagreeable notion here is the one of putting you between my legs, and start sliding you in and out…” I slowed down my speech as I searched my mind and my body for that old revulsion that had not outlasted the afternoon. In fact, what I found during my search was an agitation of my pulse, and a twitch between said legs. I wonder if he saw it on my face, because he started squirming again. I turned my thoughts to him again.

“Hey, stop! Stop that right now!”

“I’ll stop when you start listening to me!”

I decided to humor him, mostly because I figured I’d look it up later, how to play with these toys. The store attendant told me to ignore everything he said, but I couldn’t manage it, for some reason. “OK, I’m listening. Give me your spiel.”

“My what?”

“Tell me your story.”

“That’s the problem. There’s a lot about it I don’t remember. But I remember I was born in… some place with few people, and I was as large as you are, and there was corn. I remember corn. And cows. And my brother. You left him there, at the store! What if someone buys him-”

“Hold it, slow down… corn? And you were grown in a lab. All of you are. You can’t have memories of cows and being large.”

“I’m telling you. You have to believe me. I’m desperate! Please, my brother has given up. He doesn’t think anyone will listen. I’m making the effort. I’m begging you, please listen. Go back to the store and buy my brother. We’re real people. We were once like you, but someone took us away, and made us like this.”

“Someone?”

“I don’t remember that part, but…” And his words faded in the background of his thoughts, because I began to think, to remember everything I had read about the tiny people being grown in labs, the Mad Queen’s grand masterplan to save the planet. Mankind reduced in size meant less impact on resources, a smaller carbon footprint, and all that green talk. I always wondered why all the little critters had been male. Was there something to what this little one was saying? I stared at him as he talked. Oh no, there it was again. That stirring at the center of me. It felt like something was melting. A pounding. Someone was knocking on that door. Someone was ringing that bell.

I wanted to give him my full attention, I really did; but my full attention was on his legs, dangling from my closed hand. Legs that moved and twitched as he spoke, alive with his energy. Legs that would kick and feel amazing if I just slid them in between my wet- No! No! Pay attention. Attention to his tiny hands. How little were they? They were small enough to grapple with something the size of his head, maybe slightly swollen. It would grow bigger if those hands massaged it, and rubbed it, and- No! No! Pay attention. Attention to his itty mouth as it moved. And a flash of that pink tongue. What would that little tongue feel if I forced his head down on my breast and ordered him to- No! No!

I must have grunted or moaned, because when I came to, he was silent, and staring at my face. My cheeks felt like two volcanoes erupting. There was another volcano spewing lava already, but I wasn’t going to make him privy of it. I took a deep breath, and maybe to assuage my guilt and confusion at my new feelings, I said on the hard exhale which slightly blew back his tuft of tight curls, “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go where?”

“Let’s go get your brother.”

He started crying again, this time I imagine with relief, and I was glad of it, because then he’d be distracted from having noticed my gawking at him. Lusting after a tiny man when he’s crying feels like a sin. I walked to my car and realized I had left the house without my purse, without my keys, and holding my toy in my hand. I grimaced and was grateful I always kept an extra key hidden in the garden. When I reentered my home and grabbed my purse and keys, I walked up to my car again, and when I sat in the driver’s seat, I realized (again) I was still holding him. I had to put him down somewhere. I did the first thing I thought. I dropped him between my legs, the only space available, as the shotgun seat was occupied by my purse. Or is that what I told myself? I didn’t dare look at him, so when I let go of his body, I focused on driving.

I’d been on the road for a few minutes when I felt his body shift and reposition down there. His shoulder grazed my inner thigh, and my brain felt like a grenade going off. Shrapnel was piercing my heart, my head, my eyes, my crotch, and I realized I was swerving. “Hold still!” I said, a little too loud. Again, that guilt. It wasn’t his fault I was going insane. Mad. Like the Queen. Maybe her madness was contagious, but I was sure she didn’t lust after tiny men. She just wanted to make things better for everyone, and frankly, driving was easier now that road rage had been cancelled, and tailgating was punishable by death.

He stopped moving, and if it had not been for the slight heat signature that pulsed from his body, right into that empty triangle bordered by my flesh and fabric, I would have forgotten he was there. As it was, it’s a wonder I didn’t kill us both. There was that one time I applied the brakes a little too hard, and his body backed into me fully, and safely bounced off the soft shape of what was trapped in my panties. I, on the other hand, had a head-on collision of the senses. He immediately straightened up and moved away from me, farther out the chasm of my thighs, and I could feel his eyes on me, and even his thoughts… I focused on traffic, and on telling myself it had been accidental. A leg jerk. Nervous legs. Needed to start taking magnesium. Exercise more. Yeah.

When we got to the store’s parking lot, it was still open, but there were only fifteen minutes left on that clock. When I ran to the display, no one had bought his brother. The other little guy was gone, however. The sweet little fellow was shocked to see me again, and even more surprised when I lifted his brother to him, and they spoke manly words I’m not going to repeat here. I grabbed the remaining box as an elderly lady made for it. She said some choice words in my wake, and I was grateful there was a daily flip-the-finger quota enforced by law, because I filled it at that very moment.

The ride home was a little calmer. Once in the car, I ignored my toys’ pleas to be reunited, and left my newer toy in his container. I did, however, have the foresight to stick my first toy in the shopping back with his brother, so I wouldn’t have an excuse to place him between my legs again. That had been a mistake I was not going to repeat. Well, that’s what I thought at the time.

Once we were back at my place, I ripped open the box, and freed that little man. What followed was another shock that day. They both embraced and laughed and talked at the same time. The emotion pouring from their little bodies was such that I felt my own eyes brim with tears. After they’d had their fill of that, they turned to face me and approached me slowly. My first toy cleared his little throat once, then again, and failed to say anything. His brother patted his back, and looked at me with an uncertain smile. He said “thank you” so quietly I almost didn’t hear him, but the shapes his lips made were not to be mistaken. I smiled back and looked at my first toy.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.

“Yes”, he said, and we all stood and sat there for a minute, saying nothing until I spoke again, startling them into reaching for each other.

“Alright! Hey, stop that. Don’t be afraid of me. I’ve done nothing to hurt you, and everything to help you, so stop acting as though I’m the enemy. I was just going to ask you if you were hungry. When’s the last time you had anything to eat? Because… you do eat, don’t you?”

It was amazing how fast they went from fear to indignation.

“Of course we eat!”

“Yeah, we’re real people, lady.”

“None of this ‘lady’ crap. Call me Coraline. That’s my name. Now tell me your names.”

They hesitated and looked at each other.

“We don’t… I don’t remember.”

“I think my name began with an ‘N’. Maybe Nathan.”

“Neil.”

“What?”

“That was my name. As soon as you said ‘Nathan’ I remembered mom’s voice calling us to dinner. ‘Nathan’. ‘Neil’. Those were-”

“Are. Are our names. We’re twins. Non identical.”

I watched and listened to them in disbelief. Could this be true? Was the Queen aware human beings were being taken for these sanctioned experiments? Dragged away from their lives, and reduced in size, and then sold like objects at stores across the country? What was going on? This was a monstrosity.  Something had to be done. But what? I didn’t know. All I know is that these little men were under my care, and I had to do what I could to help them. If there was a normal life waiting for them somewhere, it was my duty to help them regain it.

“Alright, Nathan, Neil, it’s time to eat. Do you like beef stroganoff?”

“What’s that?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you. Let’s ride my hands to the kitchen. I’m going to cook for you.”

To be continued…