Adventure Time – “Mama Said”

Oh, shut up. You know you love that show too. When it first came on, it used to annoy me, but not everyone at my house hated it, so I began to overhear longer bits of it, and to love the double entendre, and the size bits. I love size bits, no matter where they come from. No, that’s not true; there are size bits out there I find repugnant. But every time I see something growy or shrinky on Adventure Time, I smile like this…Lewd-Smile
…and never fail to look around, if I’m with family or friends, because you never know when someone will look at you, jump up from their seat and cry out, “A-ha! J’acusse!” as they point at you and reveal to all present that you have a filthy size fetish. So I make sure no one sees me blush and no one hears my heart pounding and no one watches me try to control my frantic heartbeat, and no one is taking pictures of my cheeks as they turn a violent red.

I not only do that when I watch Adventure Time. It happens any time I see a commercial or show depicting size stuff. It’s also happened that I’m not alone, and someone will say, “Look at that [whatever] with that tiny guy! Did you see it? Did you look? Look at it, look at how funny it is!?!??!”

Those are the times my poker face must be at its best, because inside my head I’m screaming, “YES, I SAW IT. IT WAS HOT. I DREAM OF OWNING SUCH A SEX TOY. YES, LITTLE MEN ARE SEX TOYS DIDN’T YOU KNOW?!?!?!” But outwardly I’m…

And… “No, I missed it. I was thinking of politics or tax reform or health care.” And they always believe me. Would my life be better if I told all around me that I have these thoughts and feelings? Nah. It would make no difference. It would probably mean members of my family find my blog, and start asking questions. Especially my mom. She’d be all… I’m not even going to tell what she’d be like. But it would not be good. The questions would never end.

Anyway, I was about to tell you about this:

I buy every Adventure Time season as soon as it comes out. Every season is extremely rewatchable. I love the songs. I know the songs. Don’t make me start singing now, because I will. But I love the size stuff the most, no matter how inconsequential, how unrelatable, how vague it is. I’ll take it because I’ll take my size stuff any way I can get it. So, from minute 3:20 on, I looked like this:

And I did the same with my lips every time Finn was handheld. Do you have any idea how much I love handheld? No, you don’t. I love it. A lot. So much. If I had a tiny man in real life, he’d be so handheld, so much. So often. So tightly. So hard. So closely. Any image of a tiny human (or robot—let’s be honest) male held in the hand of a larger female anything… is going to cause the same effect on me.



I’m sneezing until I taste blood. I’m unable to sleep though I have not slept in over twenty-four hours. I have stories dancing in my head, some better than others. I have a semi abandoned blog I’m trying to feed by mentally crying out “clear”, and zapping it with a super late lunch of churros (I bought two but can only eat one; I hope it goes straight to my ass), a cherry-limeade Sparkling Ice, and –ironically– something else that I hope will help me sleep.
I’m also watching a favorite zombie DVD, which I love to collect and go to sleep to (any Alien movies and any zombie movies are my going-to-sleep white noise. I’m currently rooting for the living, and at the same time thinking someone should write a zombie love story. A Size Zombie love story. 5,000 words. It’s been done before, and it’s probably been written by someone in the community before, but not that I know of. I might even commission someone to create a Size Zombie image for me. But who’ll be the zombie? The giantess, or the tiny man? Hmm.

I’m also thinking about those two size moments I spotted in a couple of DVDs my son and I watched recently. Part of his instruction since birth has been to learn all I teach him about X-Men, Spider-man, and Batman, among other, less important characters. So we watch all the Marvel and DC comics movies we find… and when I saw those moments, I was transported to my world.

(Oh, don’t waste your ammo! I hate it when they panic and shoot and keep shooting and run out of rounds.)

(Yes, I’m talking about zombie stuff.)

(Zombie ambush! Awesome! But. Seriously? She just dropped her gun.)

Where was I? My world.

In Teen Titans: The Judas Contract, Nightwing gets with Starfire, who is taller than he is. During the entire movie, I kept thinking of all the times during my childhood I had crushes on shorter boys who never liked me back. Ever. I was always “too tall” (and when they said that a marvelous thrill ran up and down my back, and I was never self-conscious about it). My first boyfriend was about my height, and he always complained when I wore high heels. In fact, with one exception, nearly all boys and men I girlfriended said the same thing when I wore high heels, except for my second boyfriend, who was into feet and bums. He never complained about my awesome alpha personality either. My point is, when I was a child I was overly enthusiastic about tiny boys, particularly when I got to stand over them during practice; so I was thrown back into those memories when I watched this movie.

In Justice League Dark, Deadman is given his power by a gigantic god, Rama Kushna. That scene only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was such a turn on. I can see myself as a goddess who is inclined to give different powers to random little men after they die, bringing them back in an elegant, redeeming way that does not render them stinking and unattractive, their more important parts (legs) slowly decaying to the work of maggots and carrion vermin. Once the spirit of a man leaves its body, I’d observe it, study it, and if deemed worthy, I’d call it to me and assign it a gift, and a mission. If you die today, don’t be surprised if you find yourself in my presence…

Oh yeah, another zombie ambush. Watching….)

(This woman can’t fight for shit.)


(Oh, good. She lived.)

…anyway, in my presence, and find yourself gifted with an unexpected power that allows you to serve my will. Don’t worry, it won’t be too hard on you. My will is not that perplexing or complicated. I want to shrink the world, and from among everyone, I will pick the one “lucky” man who is destined to be mine for all eternity. Then with my army of gifted undead, I will eliminate tailgating, platypi, fake marshmallows, reality tv, certain presidents, racism, illiteracy, vegan cheese, famine, and war. In that order.

And also, because. Epigraphs.

I don’t need you, I don’t need you
Besides I barely ever see you anymore
And when I do it feels like you’re only halfway there

Don’t do this, I don’t do this to you
Don’t expect me to enjoy it
‘Cause I really don’t have the courage not to turn the volume up inside my ears

My Millions ad

I was sitting here, pissed off because I couldn’t find those old Lay’s Singles potato chip commercials. Remember them? I saw them nine years ago, and I posted a blog entry about them, and now the YouTube links for them are dead, once again proving that when I publish a video, I have to actually have the thing in my mac in case the link disappears. That’s what I’m doing now, but after finding super low-res versions of the ads I wanted, I also stumbled upon this…

Clearly, something very dirty is happening there, and I invented my own dialogue for it… Hm. I should use my iMovie to edit it. Yes… it will only intensify the uncomfortable way I feel, but hell, it’s a day of the week. When do I not feel the way I feel about my own sex toy Hopier in my own suitcase as I travel? He packs lightly when I don’t (yes, I know that makes no sense–never mind, I know what I mean).

Born in a Flash

This is my Gentle April 2017 entry. For the entirety of the month of April I languished, unable to think of what to write for my contest entry. Then I listened to this song while trying to get some inspiration:

And the idea came to me. The story is much longer, but this will do for now.

Born in a Flash


“Birdy 2” by Fetish3D

I was listening to “Broken” by Depeche Mode for the millionth time, when it came to me that I should change the lyrics to suit my giant thoughts about shrinking that very special little man in my world, Hopier… so here they are.


I want all the control
And almost no pain
How much will I shrink you
As you scream in vain

I see the man that I knew
Cannot be found
Replaced by another
Who’s shrinking down

There’s a place where you’ll go
Without any sound
Only you can hear me
Only I’m allowed

You’ll be so far away
So far from here
You won’t remember
Old times, all those years

When you’re shrinking, I will catch you
You will shrink so much, so far
You will make it, I will be here
You were shrunken from the start

When you were a man
You’d dream all day long
You’d dream of a woman
You thought it was wrong

Now that time is gone
It’s real for you now
Now that you’re caught in
My hand as you howl

When you’re shrinking, I will catch you
You will shrink so much, so far
You will make it, I will be here
You were shrunken from the start

Two Words – the Twitter Edition – Part 1

How it happened…

Some days ago I was all, “hey, Twitter, help out a giantess. I need one or more of you to give me two words for my Two Words blogging gimmick! Yes?” And Twitter was all, “OK.”


The first volunteer, chef to the Stars and producer of action-figure pron Will Edgecomb, offered the following two words. There are three other sets of words that will form what I’ve bombastically decided to call, Two Words (a game) – The Twitter Edition! fireworks

Rooster, Dependency

He lay on her chest, all two inches of him; curled into himself like a baby, his face nuzzling into the thickness of her skin. Her left hand was a canopy over him, a protective shield against the hooting permeating the room from the tree outside her room, where owls had perched and held conference every night for the past week. He stirred, and lifted his little head towards her. She felt it bump the pad of her palm, and looked over at him, even though she could not make out his face in the cavernous protection of her hand. She did hear his voice.

“Can’t you just go out and grow a bit? Scare them away?”

“I’m not going to grow in the middle of the night, in my neighborhood, just to quieten a few owls chattering away.”

“It’s not the middle of the night anymore! And what if they’re discussing me, and the best way to eat me? Would you like those owls to carry me away, and eat me, and then regurgitate my bones for you to find?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, or be astounded at his childishness. She only shook her head, and added, “Look, my little darling, no creature in the animal kingdom is ever going to discuss eating you. Look at you! You’re the size of a small mouse, so tiny, I can hardly feel your weight between my breasts-”

His voice turned into a whine, which annoyed her, “but honey, I need my sleep. You know what happens when morning approaches.”

She sighed. “I know, my sweet love. Shh… I know. I’ll have a word with the neighbor. I understand keeping chickens, but I’m rather sure that rooster is violating a number of city ordinances.”

“Can’t you just kill it with your brain?”

“You’ve been watching “Firefly” again, haven’t you? Please don’t talk about killing living beings with my brain.”

She could feel his piercing gaze travel in the darkness, and caress her cheeks. She blushed when he whispered, “You did it that one time. For me…”

She brought her fingerpads down onto his body, feeling his tiny shoulder, the length of his arm as it swept down to touch her pulsing skin, his hip and leg as he lay on his side, his tiny toes curling and uncurling in his restlessness. “I will always kill for you, you know that; but only when you’re in grave danger.”

“I’m in danger of losing my mind. I need to sleep… you’re not going to let me sleep now, are you?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Please, just this once.”

She sighed a bit too hard, blowing an impatient gust into his warm cove. “You know what happens when my needs are not met.” She felt an almost imperceptible nod.

“An entire state knows what happens when your needs are not met.”

It was her turn to nod. “Look, I can tell you this, at least. I only need a few.”

“That doesn’t help the way you think it does! I’m only two inches tall! This dependency of yours! Why do you think I can take that kind of-“

“Watch your words very carefully now.”

“-loving. That kind of tender, nurturing, non-bruising loving.”

Her smile could be felt across the Universe. “Good save.”

“Yeah? Did it please you?”

“You please me endlessly.” They both inhaled and exhaled simultaneously, as though their lung capacities were made twins in some unifying dimension.

“So… do I get to sleep in this morning?” But he already knew the answer to his question. Somewhere in the distance, her free hand was moving through the air. In the darkness, it was stretching. In the dim light of a setting moonlight sliver, it was cupping and sinking into damp flesh, carving it gently to collect silken moisture. It didn’t lift again. Instead, it dragged a path from pooling wetness over her curly mound, over her soft belly, over the dip of her bellybutton, until it reached his tiny heels.

There, her wet hand exiled the dry one, and her fingertips glued themselves to his body with a single moist click. She heard him gasp as the weight of her fingers forced air out of his tiny lungs. She didn’t care. She needed him. She began to slide him along the path she had made for him. He glided easily, collecting her dew as he passed it; he even gathered some of it on his own, stretching his little arms in scissoring moves as he traveled closer, and warmer. His cries and moans were drowned by that damned rooster’s crows.

Tiny Commando – 2 Tiny 2 Furious – 1 & 2

Tiny Commando Ep.2 – 2 Tiny 2 Furious

A few days ago I was chillaxing and Twitting, when world-famous TV host and Hollywood star pocketsized man twitted a link for Tiny Commando, 2 Tiny 2 Furious, episode 1. As I’d been out of the giantess loop for years, I’d not heard of it. Naturally I shrieked with delight as I watched it, and was shocked to see there were more episodes.

They can’t be found on youtube, but I’m saving the videos anyway. If the link above ever fails, I don’t want to be left in the lurch here, with a broken blog entry, as I find many other posts now, and only because I figured youtube accounts and videos last forever. Wrong.

I watched every season of Chuck, despite the fact that during the first two I found Zachary Levi’s constantly gaping mouth painfully irritating. He now looks older, his mouth is shut at the appropriate moments, and he plays a wonderful shrunken man. I’d happily put him up in a dollhouse, no rent payments necessary.

And here, just between you and me, when I was little, I was never gifted toy cars, because I was a girl. I loved them, and it pained me that I couldn’t order Santa to gift me any. No matter what I wrote (I also asked for guns and explosives), I invariably received cooking sets, female dolls, etc. Dear readers, I had to steal my first toy car. It shames me to admit it, but I remember that moment very vividly in my mind. I knew it was wrong, but I had to have that little car, just so I could play with it, while imagining the tiny driver inside. You don’t blame me, do you?

Tiny Commando – Piece of Cake – 1 & 2

Tiny Commando Ep.1 Piece Of Cake (Part 1)

Tiny Commando Ep.1 – Piece Of Cake (Part 2)

I’m loving this series. I’m considering pinching myself, to see if I wake up. I can’t believe it’s real! I can’t believe people out there are creating shorts in which the main character is a shrunken man, and that little guy is found desirable by much larger women. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for the world to catch up with me? And it’s finally happening. The mind seeds have been sown; now all we have to wait is for giantesses to sprout, and emerge in numbers heretofore unseen. My numbers will grow, little ones. Take heed. Take precautions. Take cover.

I haven’t quite figured out the exact number of Tiny Commando episodes, but there are at least six I found this morning. I now have three. These two, if you haven’t watched the series, have content that matches what I’ve imagined for many years: the infiltration of the home of a normal-sized woman, by a shrunken man. In my mind, that action has the purpose of reconnoitering a target’s territory; study her weaknesses, preferences, habits; then, conquer said target. The act of seducing a woman “even though” a man only measures two inches in height, is more appealing than I can possibly describe without babbling, stuttering, and reducing myself down to the level of a mindless idiot.

There’s no such directness in these videos, but that little guy makes conquests. How can he help it? He’s hot, he’s shrunken, but I repeat myself. Enjoy.

The Fall

the_fall_2016She sat on the floor as she hugged the dollhouse. One leg an inverted v along the side, her other leg like a fallen tree over the front. She pressed her temple to the gable, and caressed its vent with her ear. As she listened, she stroked the pitched roof with one hand, feeling the rise and fall of each shingle as she remembered how carefully she had carved each and all of them. With her other hand, she ran up and down the length of a perfectly made downspout. One he had never needed, not even now, as she made it rain on his front step.

“Play it again.” She imagined she heard a sigh of impatience. His words climbed the dollhouse walls from inside, and reached her hungry ear.

“It’s time. I’ve delayed this long enough.”

“Please, play it one more time. One last time.” She lowered her head enough to catch a glimpse of the music room, and its centerpiece, the smallest piano in the world. He still sat at it, but his hands didn’t move. “Please… please.” His chest rose and sank visibly as he brought his tiny fists onto the black and white keys. Eighty-eight keys, she thought, a fortune, made in Japan, and just for you, my beloved.

As he touched the beautiful instrument without heart, without love, the ceiling above her sank another inch. It was covered in black mold. She closed her eyes, and listened to nothing but him, to the spell he cast with his fingers. Behind her, the wall cracked open like curtains struggling to part, and breathed ancient dust into the room. He played on, until the piece was over. She watched him stand up and away from the piano.

“Don’t you want to take it with you? I had it made just for you.”

“I know. I know you did that. You’ve made sure I remembered every time I played. You made me hate the thing. You made me hate my music, the only thing I had left after you did this to me.”

“I only wanted you to know how much I love you! How much I’ve always loved you! Please! Please, don’t leave me! I’ll die without you!”

“No, you won’t. You’ll probably get better. You’ll stop acting like nothing but me matters, and you’ll leave this rotting house you’ve neglected for so long. You’ll have a life again.”

“You are my life! You’re all I’ve ever wanted!”

He looked at her through the window, and even through her tears she could see his disgust. He turned his back, and walked out of the music room. She peeled herself away a few inches from the dollhouse, and watched the front door with eyes unblinking. A rusted pipe exploded in the cold basement.

The dollhouse door turned on impossibly small hinges, and his small shape stepped out, only to stop at the sight of her leg on the floor, blocking the way. Blocking the view. Blotting out everything. He glanced at her, and arched his eyebrow towards the meaty obstacle. “May I pass?”

“Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You are not!” She palmed the floor and pushed to pivot herself toward him. One leg bumped the side of the dollhouse, moving it behind him. Her other leg had given him more room, but it was pressed to the floor, and he’d have to walk its entire length to clear her foot. Instead, he faced her, his eyes ablaze.

“You can’t stop me. I gave you ten years of my life. No, you took them. You took me as though I was a thing, an object. For ten miserable years I’ve not known what happened to my wife, my mom, my dad. My pets are dead, my friends think I’m dead. My tours, my music, my sense of self: you destroyed it all!

And you destroyed yourself as well. You have no job, no friends, no family, no one left that cares about you. Look at what you’ve done to this house! You’ve neglected it, made no repairs, cleaned nothing! It’s repugnant. You are repugnant. I despise you. I may have loved you for a moment, but that moment is long gone. I-“

She brought her fists down around him, and pounded the floor with all her strength. He jumped in the air as the rotting boards cracked and sank into rounded shapes that spewed splinters and displaced dust. When he landed, he looked up at her in alarm.

“If you try to leave, I will kill you. I will hold you in my fist, and squeeze you until you’re dead. I will, I swear I will.”

Her words only seemed to displace his fear, and refuel his anger. “Do it,” he spat. “Kill me. It’s either a quick death by your hand, or a long death, waking up every morning in this hellhole, with you. Do your worst.” He turned, and started walking along her inner thigh. She let him. The ice in his words penetrated her heart, and dried up her tears. In the kitchen, the tile floor sank at the center, and spilled into the basement, bringing appliances with it. She ignored every crashing sound.

“You’re not taking anything.”

He stopped in his tracks, looked in the kitchen’s direction, and didn’t fully turn his head to respond, “I don’t have anything.”

“You’ll get cold.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“You found someone else, did you. You’re going to her.”

“I have a wife. I’m going to-“ Something in her eyes stopped his lips from moving. He shook his head, and resumed his departure. She watched him pass her foot, and make his way toward the front door. He would not need to open it. When he reached it, he turned to face her, and spoke one last time.

“Leave this house. Get out of here, and save yourself. I can feel it crashing down. It will take you with it.”

She said nothing. She watched him for a moment, until he vanished under the door. As she turned to cradle the dollhouse again, the center beam that held every ceiling joist and rafter in place far above her, burst open in more than one place. It all came clawing down at her.

The giant singer and the tiny singer

marilyn-manson-stiltsA long time ago, in a giant city far, far away from most of us, because apparently there are only three gentle-giantess fans in my entire state! What the hell! Why?! Oh, I’m so ALONE! No, I’m not. I’m never alone when I’m with all of you. But back to my blog entry. I love going to concerts, especially by myself. I’m a loner. It’s how I’ve always rolled, and how I’ll always be. That creates some upset around me, as I’m constantly asked what I’m thinking, and asked to say “something”. I’m not a monkey for anyone’s amusement!! Dammit! OK, OK, OK. Calming down. These have been both stressful and calm days. I’m trying to focus on the latter, and succeeding when I sit down to write.

As I was saying before I fake-freaked out, I love going to concerts. I arrive in one piece, and usually leave without my voice, but always happy for days. Music is one of my drugs, together with books. I don’t smoke, or do drugs, and I stopped drinking nearly a year ago, so I do all my snorting and injecting through my ear canals. One of the more memorable highs was Marilyn Manson’s. I was a fan for a long time (still am), and happily plopped the money for that ticket months in advance. The day of the concert I couldn’t eat or speak, dressed myself in black, and made myself up as gothy as I could. It wasn’t much, but sufficient to earn me an are-you-suicidal pamphlet from the christians milling around the entrance.

Seriously, zealots: I’m the mom of a son I adore. A life-loving woman that spends a great deal of time running a porn tape in the back of her mind, where she’s having sexy fun with a shrunken man. Just because I rock out to MM doesn’t mean I’m about to slash my wrists. What I did instead was sing at the top of my lungs, as I knew all the lyrics by heart. I didn’t sing them. I screamed them. A different kind of fun took place when Brian Warner disappeared behind the stage as it was brought to semi-darkness. Seconds later, a bright light was shone from behind the tall screen, and his silhouette appeared in between, and it was gigantic. He was walking on stilts, and wearing the accompanying signature skirt. Naturally, I thought of myself as a giantess on stage, singing my heart out for adoring fans. I never know what’s going to set me off, but it’s usually everything.

Years passed, and inevitably, shit hit my fan. It was bad. I didn’t want to get up in the morning anymore. I didn’t write. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to do anything. I was fading, and quickly. The turning point was made of many, and one of them was my decision to start going to concerts again. It was Black Friday last year, and I got an email from Ticketmaster, and it read that I could get a ticket for this particular group for only $20.00. I said to myself, what the hell, I’ll probably be dead by then anyway. So I bought it for $20.00, and it was the best worst money I’ve ever spent. Best, because that morning I changed my mind and decided to skip the concert. I ignored myself completely. I got ready five minutes before it was time to leave, and got to the venue with enough energy to walk to my seat. Worst, because my seat was as far away from the stage as one could get. I sat in that last row, and let it all seep into me. I cried as one of the opening acts performed a song that was a favorite of a friend’s; one I lost to suicide. I laughed because I remembered a promise I had made to myself many years ago: that of seeing them live at least once.

As I sat there screaming and shouting and laughing a little, and enjoying my perspective of the group’s newfound micro size, and singing lyrics I also knew the way I know my own face, I decided maybe life wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe I could stick it out a little bit longer. Things are much better now. Much, much better. I’m grateful for that. Now, any idjit can tell who these guys are; but whoever guesses it first gets to be instantly shrunk and live out the rest of his days with the giantess of his choice. That’s the truth. I’m not lying when I tell you that’s what’s going to happen to one lucky winner. Have at it!