Buy One Get Two Free
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I’m posting my one active story over here from the other forum, and… yeah.
For what was happening, I expected… more. Background checks, in-depth interviews, or a social security number, even. Apparently though, all that really mattered was both sides agreed, and everything beyond that point was just formalities. Hell, the staff even walked me through the subsidies I could apply for and how I could use this as a tax break, and just like that, I was almost being paid for what amounted to taking ownership of three women, permanently.
“Everything seems to be in order.” the woman helping me said at last. She had told me her name at some point, I knew, but I had past the entire proceedings in something of a daze, and that detail, among others, had slipped past me. The fact that I could see bright red scales, boldly contrasting against her literally golden hair, rising distractingly from somewhere beneath her shirt and up her neck to frame her face didn’t help the matter, either, and in my head I had just taken to calling her Scale Woman. I had the impression she wasn’t expecting much from me, conversationally or otherwise, but I couldn’t bring myself to care that I was playing into her low expectations.
Scale Woman smiled professionally. “The three of them have been prepared for transfer, so if you’ll just bear with me for a moment I will bring them right over.”
I blandly agreed with her, and as she rose from her chair, I tried to distract my whirling mind by wondering where, exactly, those scales began, but it was short lived before the issue that was consuming me: Miranda.
She and I were never anything, I had no illusions on that front, but ever since I had first met her I had been entranced by her beauty… and she knew it. My staring early on had hardly been subtle, and she had caught me several times before I learned to manage that habit, but it had never provoked more than a knowingly raised eyebrow from her. She never made anything of it, never mentioned it to her boyfriend, who I had known since college, or anyone else, as far as I knew. We were never close, only seeing each other when meeting with friends, and I was pathetically grateful when we eventually fell out of touch, freeing me from such temptation.
And then I found out, recently, that she had been Min’d, and her whole life had went to shit. Jarret, as it turned out, was one of those who was less than accepting of Mins and their lot; Miranda had no family, and her friends were either unChanged or uncaring, and without anyone willing or able to take custody of her, she ended up in the system.
And then, eventually, she had one of her minders call me.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew she didn’t like me, didn’t want to be with me, or anything like that, even before she had explained exactly what she wanted out of the situation. Miranda and her friends had talked about it, apparently, and decided that I was, objectively, a better option than living in what was basically a human kennel for the rest of their lives, even with whatever liberties I would inevitably take with them. A heartwarming sentiment it wasn’t, but I took her deal all the same, to the surprise of neither of us.
Still, the carefully blank face she showed me as she walked in, her head barely above Scale Woman’s knee, fed the bitter feeling that had been growing inside me ever since, sending it roaring to new heights.
If she had just asked, just told me she wanted help, I would have taken her and her friends in a heartbeat, without any of the dramatics she had opened with. I would have wanted her still, of course, but my wandering eyes aside I have never so much as touched her before in my life, and even with the legal freedom to do so, I like to think I still would have treated her with dignity, respected her rights as a person… even if, in the eyes of society, she really wasn’t anymore. The fact that she didn’t think that was possible, to the point that me taking advantage of her was never even a point of contention in her mind, was insulting. Stung, I had accepted her terms without an argument, and the freedoms it gave me over her, but even then I still intended to do the honorable thing.
But now? Now I wasn’t so sure what I would do, and our arrangement meant that things like ‘honor’ were no longer relevant. In all ways that mattered, Miranda had given herself to me, and she was a gift I would not longer force myself to ignore.
I’m not sure what she saw on my face then, how much of what I was thinking was apparent for her, but in that instant she flinched, ever so slightly, her expression shifting for a instant, faster than I could read it, before she expertly hide it behind her facade of indifference.
Oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, to the atmosphere between the two of us, Scale Woman moved forward, Miranda obediently following in her wake, before setting the case she was carrying on the table in front of me. About the size of a cat carrier, it was sturdy, with large panels of what I knew was some sort of one-way material on the upper half. A Min transport, designed to isolate them safely from the outside world when being moved.
“Miranda, as you can see, is right here,” she began, gesturing downwards towards her feet, not even looking to see if the woman in question was actually there, “And now we will confirm the presence of Amber and Mia.”
I frowned briefly, before I realized she was talking about the friends. The ones I had never met before. Lovely. As she opened the cage, I glanced from it to Miranda. For once, she was not supernaturally aware of my gaze, instead focused on the two figures staggering out the transport. A expression of joy and relief filled her as she saw them, and I eyed it hungrily, the way her smile lit up her face, changing her presence to something warm and inviting.
I wanted that. I wanted that expression, that face, to look like that to me, for me and for me alone, and in for a long minute I was filled with a nearly overwhelming desire to simply grab her and make her look at me. Instead, I forced my eyes away, towards the clearly judging face of Scale Woman.
“Well?” she asked. “Can you confirm their identities?”
I didn’t actually know what they looked like, but there was no way Miranda would be that happy to see some random Mins. Still, I peered over at her, her face once again carefully blank, and received a slight nod in response.
“Yes, that’s them.” I said confidently, as if everyone there didn’t just watch me check with someone else.
Scale Woman, true to form, completely ignored the byplay and nodded. “Excellent. Then may I be the first to congratulate you on your new acquisitions.”
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“Alright, ladies,” I announced, only slightly raising my voice, “We’re here.”
Carefully, I lifted the carrier- while I didn’t mind if they were jostled around in there, it would be all too easy to swing it around a little too much on accident and actually do them real damage- and set it on the table, before unceremoniously opening the door.
A beat passed without any movement from within before I spoke up again. Louder. “Everybody out.”
It didn’t take a genius to realize that to a Min even words spoken at a normal volume was very loud to them, though they had undoubtedly grown accustomed to it. Anything beyond that had to be reaching levels that was painful, however; earlier, the box itself had protected them. With it open, that protection was gone.
This time there was an immediate and gratifying sense of movement from within, before two smaller figures almost ran out, stumbling on the transition from case floor to table top, before looking up at me, tense and afraid. When I did nothing to them they relaxed, slightly, and moved to the side, clearing the entrance for Miranda.
I took that time to actully look at them for the first time, examining the women I was now responsible for… for a given value of the word, anyways. I had no idea which was which, but once I did, it would be easy enough to tell them apart: one was blond, and one a brunette, her hair leaning redder than average. The Brunette was maybe an inch taller than her friend, which meant she loomed over her, comparatively, by a foot or more.
They were both naked, of course; clothing for a Min was expensive, and the government refused to splurge on such luxuries. Naked, and gorgeous, as all Mins were. The details were lost to me from my current prospective, but what I did see was enticing enough. The idea of simply picking one of them up and inspecting her was oh so tempting, but my deal with Miranda stipulated that they were free and clear, and I had every intention of keeping it: I valued her over them every time.
Besides, it was very likely that they would come to me, in time, for some small luxury or another and things could be renegotiated from there. While they were safe from my theoretical advances, they were trapped here in my home, isolated from the world, where almost everything was gigantic to them. The essentials of survival were mandated, but everything beyond a corner in which to sleep, food slop, and a bottle cap of water was something I chose to give them, and they knew it. Eventually, they would get bored, and even with each other and (when I could spare her) Miranda, they would get lonely.
It was simply a matter of patience, and I was willing to wait.
No matter how pretty they were though, at the end of the day they were just the extras, a fact I was of reminded of when the main event emerged. To her friends, the carrier had been enormous, easily large enough to fit dozens of Mins of their size without even feeling cramped. Miranda, on the other hand, was far larger than them. Small enough to fit, but too tall to even kneel, much less stand, and while seeing her rear sway ever so enticingly as she crawled into a cage at the office had been lovely, seeing her crawl out of it in my house was even better.
Still, despite everything, her size, her nudity, being forced to crawl on the ground like an animal, she kept her composure, and the same kind of distant contempt for my very existence was as clear in her gaze as it had been that first night.
I reached out and ran a finger slowly down her back, enjoying the feel of her bare skin against my fingertip, warm and smooth and oh so soft, as I traced the arc of her spine.
Miranda needed to realize it wasn’t that first night anymore.
She shuddered at the sensation of it, arching up into it for a moment before remembering herself and jerking away violently.
And this time, when she looked up at me, the blank mask was gone: fear, disgust and loathing filled her face, mingling with resigned acceptance at a simple fact: that this was just the beginning. I could do whatever I wanted to her, and she had all but asked me to. Still, the way she had leaned into my finger hinted that she had more hidden in her depths. Somewhere deep in the darkness lay secrets, tempting, tantalizing things that shone like jewels, and I knew suddenly that I wanted them, madly, desperately. I’d dredge those depths, and bring everything she hid into the light. I’d tear down her resistance, break down her walls, and I wouldn’t stop until she lay at my feet, helpless and bare in body and soul.
I swallowed back the maddening hunger that had risen inside me, and before she could get past her surprise, I turned my focus on her friends.
You had to take care of your chores before you could have your fun, after all.
“Alright, you two. I’m going to be honest here: I don’t care about you, either of you, but Miranda does, and so here we are. Let’s go over your situation, and then you can fuck off.”
I pointed down the hall.
“Over there is the family room, and on there is a table with a Min House, fully customized; running water, electricity, the works. It’s specced for up to ten at your size, so you should have plenty of room. Here,” My finger rapped on the table they stood on sharply, and I watched them jump at the sudden motion, “Is where I eat, when I can be bothered to sit at a table. I usually leave food here, and what I eat, you eat. I’d say meals are when I sit down here, but somehow I don’t think you’ll be interested in dining with me, so I’ll leave some in the House’s storage for after my meal, so you can just eat whenever.”
I paused and let that sink in before I continued.
“I’m not going to play house with you, and I’m not going to pick up after you. Once a week I’ll do basic maintenance, take out the garbage, fill the water tank and what not, but other than that how you take care of it is up to you. If something breaks? Let me know, I’ll have it fixed or replaced. If you let it get so disgusting in there that I smell it? Then I’m going to clean it, because I don’t want to put up with that shit.”
They backed away timidly as I leaned down towards them, until my face was less than a foot from their bodies, my impatience and irritation of having to deal with them when I wanted to deal with Miranda clear for them to see. “Believe me, you do not want me to have to clean up in there. I may just decide that the furnishings are trash, too. Or that maybe if you can’t take care of a house of your own, you should have a cage, instead.”
I eyed them, watched them tremble, hair blowing back and forth around their pale faces as I breathed. Hmm. Maybe I overdid it a little.
I straightened up and gestured towards a corner of the table, and the small protruding edge attached to it, making an effort to act calmer. “Anything that has a ladder like this, which, yes, includes the one with your Min House on it, is safe for you to explore; I will be careful around them. If you go up any other furniture, however, there’s no guarantee I might not drop a glass of water on your heads by accident. As a general statement, don’t go onto the chairs or my bed. Just… don’t. That’s mainly it. As long as I know you’re alive and nothing’s going wrong, I’ll leave you alone. If food is leaving the larder, maybe I see a glimpse of one of you around the corner? Everything’s great. If I don’t, though, I’m going to have to start looking for you, just to make sure you aren’t dead. Don’t make me do that, either.”
I tried to think of anything else I wanted to mention, any other concerns or warnings I should raise. It was hard to focus through my impatience, but I knew that I probably wouldn’t see either of them again for awhile, considering how I had handled this, and I didn’t want to have to bother with them later.
…
Fuck it.
Without warning, I swooped down and seized Miranda, and before she knew what was happening my hands latched around her torso like grasping talons, and I drew her close to me as I walked off. She thrashed briefly with an alarmed (adorable) squeak, but I just adjusted my hold, pinning her limbs in place with my arm while my free hand slide under her until I could feel her ass cupped in my palm. Once I had secured her, Miranda stopped resisting and curled up the best she could while restrained.
Cradling her carefully, I walked over to my chair in the family room and settled into it, leaning back and raising the foot rest. For a minute, I just held her to my chest as I thought about what to do next, before stretching out one leg, and bending up the the other slightly. Then, finally, I set Miranda down on the slope formed by my thigh.
She flailed as I released her, trying to get her balance, until she ended up leaning back against my leg, unintentionally giving me an excellent view of her body as she did so: warm skin without a blemish, flushed from her panic, long dark hair that reached down to her waist, long long legs I that I could easily hold in my hand. Miranda really was a thing of beauty. For a moment, she raised her arms to try and hide herself from me, to shield a modesty she seemed to so proudly deny having, but dropped them instead, either unwilling to appear off balance or show defiance she knew could be so easily crushed.
Miranda glared at me as I admired her, waiting for me to continue. I didn’t. A minute passed, then two, while I took in the magnificence of her body, and she grew more and more tense, bracing herself for an attack that refused to come.
Her nerve broke.
“Well?” She snapped.
I smiled. “Well what?”
She almost snarled. “Are you going to do it or not? Let’s get this over with, already!”
Part of me wanted to ask what ‘it’ was. I resisted the urge, and instead reached out my hand. She tried to crawl away, her belligerence giving way to fear, but I just brushed the back of a finger against her cheek.
“Oh, Miranda,” I whispered to her as she stared at me, wide eyed with confusion. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I reached out again, and felt the silky flow of her hair, rubbing the strands of it between finger and thumb before letting it go.
I remember, vaguely, reading something about training a horse, and how you had to get them accustomed to humans. The details were fuzzy, but the idea of it was pretty clear to me: you had to teach the animal not to be afraid of being touched. You started out small, petting their nose or something, and built up from there, until it was completely calm around you, no matter what you did around it, or to it.
In that spirit, I spent almost a half hour simply touching Miranda lightly: stroking her head, patting her hand, lifting her foot slightly in the air, bending an arm. Playing with her body, really. Never long, never in a way that was sexual, just consistent, steady contact.
Every time I reached out, she flinched away from me. Every time I touched her, pet her, toyed with her, she emerged unharmed.
Every time my hand approached, she flinched less and less as she grew used to the contact, slowly growing to trust that even if I could hurt her, I wasn’t going to.
Finally, she spoke, quietly. Her voice quavered. “Why?”
My hand moved towards her, and she didn’t flinch.
“Because, Miranda,” I said gently, “This isn’t going to be ‘over with’. This is just the beginning.”
And now we’re caught up. jazz hands
I’m probably going to have to go through later to put italics back in. -
The care and feeding of a new mini or the taming of a wild Miranda
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Man, this is the most writing I’ve done in years. I’m feeling all productive and crap.
Eventually, though, the time came that things would have to either escalate, or stop, and as much as I wanted to escalate things, we weren’t quite there yet.
Instead, I looked at Miranda and asked, “How do you feel about dinner and a movie?”
At her blank look, I elaborated. “I’m hungry and I’m not in the mood to cook at the moment. Why don’t I order a pizza or something? You and your friends can each have a slice, and we can watch something on TV. You can even help me pick it out, if you want.”
Hell, at this point, I’d watch the sappiest, most boring of chick flicks if it meant Miranda would willingly sit on my lap to watch it.
My mind must have wandered off, because when I refocused, I saw her expression had changed, the wary confusion of before replaced by… hope?
“Really?” she asked, her tone almost desperate.
I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “Miranda, pizza isn’t that expensive. A pie or two isn’t going to break the bank, you know.”
“No, I mean…” she trailed off, looking deliciously vulnerable and uncertain, before continuing. “You’ll give m- us some?”
Then I got it.
After I had received the offer from her, I had done some research into Mins and the lifestyle they could expect in government housing. It wasn’t pleasant. Food, among other things, provided in the cheapest possible way: a sort of nutritious food slop popularly marketed as ‘Min Chow’, and the only way the Mins could improve their lot is through the ‘generosity’ of the guards. Most likely, none of them had had any real food in months.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, to her anyways, I rolled my eyes. “Really, Miranda? Do you really think, what? I’m not going to feed you, or feed you slop?”
Judging by the look on her face, that wasn’t quite it, so I pressed on. “Or did you think I was going to make you beg for food? Or maybe for food for your friends?”
She winced, and I knew I had gotten it. Before she could say anything, I swept her up in hug, and against my chest, I could feel her form freeze in place.
“I told you already: I’m going to take care of you Miranda.” I tried not show how emotional I was, but I wasn’t sure how well I succeeded. “I’ll always take care of you, I promise you. I won’t say I won’t ever do something to you you won’t like, but I will never let you be hungry, or thirsty, or cold. You will always be safe, and you will always have a place to go, a place to sleep. And if you want me to take care of your friends as well? No problem. If you want me to pick up other people you met and take care of them as well? I can do that. If you want me to get someone you didn’t like, and destroy them for you, crush them, break them, destroy their hopes and dreams until they kiss your feet and beg you for mercy? I’ll do that too.”
She made a startled noise at that, but just held her tighter.
“Miranda, I-” I began, but the words wouldn’t come out, and not even I was sure what I wanted to say. Like you? Love you? Own you? Want to hold you close and never let you go? Want to make you scream in pleasure again and again and again until you can’t even think and you lie limp and trusting in my arms?
In the end, I didn’t say anything, just held her tight, and felt her gradually return the embrace the best she could, trying to reach me with arms that barely spanned the width of my chest. Eventually, she tapped up near my neck, and I reluctantly let her go.
Miranda looked up at me, then, and it was the first time I had ever seen her eyes filled with tears.
“Ian.” It was the first time she had said my name since she had shrunk. “Do you mean it?”
I smiled at her gently, and when I said, “Of course”, it was perhaps the most sincere thing I had ever said in my life.
“Ian-” she began, only to stop for a minute, trying to compose herself. “Ian, thank you. Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou-”
She hugged me, or tried to, again, and sobbed into me. “I’ve been so scared, Ian, I’ve been so scared, for so long. I was so small, all of a sudden, me and the others, and nobody would talk to me, nobody cared about me, nobody wanted me, and I just- I… I just don’t want to be scared anymore, or alone, or hungry, I-”
Miranda trailed off, and twisted in my embrace, reaching out for one of my hands. Obligingly, I moved it at her direction, and she brought it to her own chest and grabbed it, holding it to herself like I held her to me, squeezing it tightly, desperately as she cried.
I could feel the swell of her breasts against my palm, as she sat there, so very naked and vulnerable and Miranda. Still, I resisted the urge, and just let her sob as long as she wanted, my fingers holding on to her like arms.
This chapter is brought to you by: a random name generator, for men this time. Because I can’t name things for shit.
Also, honestly I wasn’t expecting this to go like this, but… shrug, I guess it did.
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Oooooooo so good and tender
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I love this
im intrigued by Ians approach and am curious to see how it develops… Is he just putting on a front completely but is completely sinister or is there more truth to his kindness? Can’t wait to find out! -
@littlenichole
laughs in future plot plans
I’m glad I’m getting people’s interest. Ian is… complicated, and he’s still trying to figure this out, honestly. He was planning on being super nice, but you know what they say: no plan survives contact with the enemy.A couple of days ago, I came up with a little description for this story, but realized I was never really going to use it: a weird mix between sweetness and Stockholm Syndrome.
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Not too long after she calmed down, I moved my freer hand as stealthy as I could towards my pocket. Still, it didn’t get far before Miranda’s head popped up to look at me.
“I still want that pizza.” I said apologetically, and she laughed for a moment while I dug out my phone. Before I could dial, however, she interrupted me.
“Wait!” When I paused, she continued, faster than before. “Before the pizza gets here… Could I- I mean, will you let me, look around the house?”
Miranda showed me a pleading face that should have been classified as a war crime.
“Please?”
I sighed. “Fine.”
Before I could add anything else, she had slipped out of my loosened hold and darted out into the rest of my house, and I had to admit it hurt a little, how eager she was to get away from me. I wasn’t surprised, all things considered, but it still hurt.
That said, once the pizza came she’d probably come running back, which would be a treat in and of itself. Just imaging her tugging at my jeans, looking up at with that same pleading face… I grinned briefly before placing my order.
This, however, led into a problem: it would be a half hour, maybe more, before the pizza came. A whole half hour, in which I would have to entertain myself. In theory, it should be simple. In practice? I had spent all this time with Miranda, playing with Miranda, at times just short of having my way with Miranda, and shifting gears from that to something more lowkey would be… difficult.
Normally, I’d read a book, or watch something on Netflix, but I knew at the moment I wasn’t in the right mindset; I’d be so distracted by my dreams for the near future that whatever I tried to watch or read would just slip past me. Eventually, I pulled out my laptop and went to the table: when I was doing my earlier research, I had saw something that had caught my eye, and it had never quite slipped my mind. Before, I thought it hadn’t been a great fit for me.
Now, though. Now I wondered.
I was several tabs deep into testimonials and explanations when I was interrupted.
“Umm.” It was a soft, quiet voice I had never heard before, and almost unbelievably timid. “Excuse me, sir?”
It was also… behind my laptop? I leant to side and saw Brunette standing on the table in front of me, quivering, but still forcing herself to stand straight. Blonde cowered behind her, less brave, but still on the table nevertheless.
Huh. I didn’t expect to see them again until at least a week from now.
It took me a little while to realize the reason she wasn’t talking wasn’t her fear, but that she was waiting for me to give her permission to continue.
“Yes?” I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but I was more than a little curious.
“Y-you told Miranda that you were going to share the pizza with us, right? I-”, she paused, and stepped aside enough so that Blonde was no longer ‘hid’ behind her body, “We, would like to thank you. For more than just the food.”
Then both of them curtseyed deeply, which was lewder than I would have thought, naked: bent over, and their arms spread wide, they let their chests hang freely, while, especially from my perspective, their rears were basically being displayed for my inspection. Then they held the pose as Brunette continued. “I know you’re not doing it for us-”
Fair. I’d been pretty clear on my motivations thus far.
“-But even so, all of this, all the things you’ve done for us, even if it was just an afterthought… it’s more than we could have ever expected.”
She stopped, but the two of them stayed in curtsy, and I had the feel it was less of an ending point and more that she needed to gather her courage. I didn’t hear her take a deep breath, but I gathered as much by the heave of her delightful breasts.
“If you would excuse our rudeness, we would like to beg a favor from you, sir.”
Ah. The meat of the matter. I nodded, because it seemed appropriate, and even though she was looking down at the table top, Brunette continued.
“When the time comes… be gentle with us. Please.” She was, I realized, pleading now, all the dignity in her voice gone, leaving only desperation. “Please. Sir-”
She stopped abruptly. “Master,” she said instead, and the way she said the word, not grudgingly, or resentfully, but fearful and reverent all at once, sent a thrill through me.
Blonde, I noticed, was trembling, even worse than before, and I swore I saw something fall from her downturned face.
“Master, we are weak. So very, very weak. If you are not careful, we will break. Even if you don’t mean to hurt us, we will be shattered by your most simple, unrestrained touch.”
Their curtsies deepened, to the point where their faces nearly touched the table.
“We will do whatever you say, Master. Whatever you say. We will be loyal, Master, and dutiful to you and your desires. So please, we beg you Master: When the time comes, please have mercy upon us.”
Brunette didn’t say anything after that, and the two of them continued to hold in place, shaking. After a minute I extended my index finger towards them, and as its shadow fell over her, Brunette flinched, but still did not move.
When it went over her, only to descend in front of Blonde, she jerked away with a scream, before abruptly kneeling, face flat onto the table. Faintly, I heard something that could have been her whimpering, or could have been my imagination.
I ignored her, though, and instead dabbed at the spot just in front of where she had stood, before rubbing that fingertip against my thumb. For an instant, before the friction burnt it away, I felt the slightest hint of wet.
I wasn’t lying, before; I honestly had no plans for them, beyond keeping them alive and relatively well cared for as a favor for Miranda, but… they were tempting. More tempting, really, than I wanted to admit.
My lust for Miranda had been constant. I wanted her. I had always wanted her, and just because I could hold her in my hand now didn’t change that basic fact of myself. It was, if I focused on it, creepy, but it was also… pure, almost. Loyal, in a weird way.
This, however, was different. Baser. I didn’t want them because they were my long denied crush; I wanted them because they were sexy, and small, and obedient. And scared.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I said vaguely, more out of a feeling of obligation than as an actual response.
Some of the tension left them, but they didn’t move from their places on the table.
“You can go.” I added awkwardly, and at that they both got up at last, and ran off before I could change my mind.
Man. You wouldn’t think ordering a pizza would be that hard for me to write. Weirdly enough, though, that gave me more problems than the rest of this story combined.
I’m… most unsatisfied with how that ended up, which is why it took longer than I wanted to get this out, but I just needed to do it, otherwise I’d never would. I’m pretty sure I’ve had stories die just because I was stuck on some stupid little thing like this, and I don’t want to do that again; I’m not even at a good part yet!
That said, I derailed a bit again from where I had planned; my initial layout had the two them not be much of a factor until later. Still, this isn’t bad, I think; I have a lot of dynamics happening in this story that I want to let play out, and bunch of behind the scenes stuff I’m still trying to introduce organically. A bit of divergence is to be expected.
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Oh my god the two other tinys so adorable and I have to admit I’d be in the same boat two tiny women willing to do anything there fear driving them to be completely submissive. He could use them against her if he so chooses there loyalty could be stronger to him than her now given there state.
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I’m not sure how long this burst of writing will last, but hell, as long as it’s there, I might as keep on 'till I crash, right?
The two of them left me with lingering doubts, and the nagging certainty that, if I was going to actully interact with them in any meaningful way, I should probably learn their actual names.
Thankfully, before too long the pizza arrived.
When Miranda first contacted me, I was given a list of requirements I would need to meet, if I was to stake my claim on her, or any other Min for that matter. Most were simple, logical things, like being a legal adult, or being Changed, that I met without issue. There was one, however, that was a bit more dramatic: any door that I could expect to have people walk up to needed a second door built in front of or behind it, to keep anyone who knocked on my door safe from harm by the Mins I kept inside.
It was, like almost everything else involved in the process, subject to incentives by the government in their efforts to get as many Mins off their hands as possible, so I barely had to pay a thing to have it done. I had a hallway I could easily convert, as well, and the process itself had taken less than a week to complete. Honestly, compared to some of the stories I’d seen online, the entire process had been virtually painless.
That said, there’s an indescribable frustration that comes from having to deal with the world’s shittiest air lock just to get a pizza.
I wasn’t terribly concerned about an escape attempt, but before I opened the inner door I glanced over my shoulder anyways. Blonde and Brunette, unsurprisingly, were nowhere in sight. Miranda, on the other hand, had appeared near the couch at some point and was eying the door greedily. When she saw me focus on her, she stepped back and raised her hands into the air in an universal signal of ‘Don’t mind me’.
I snorted, then went through the first door. Closing it behind me, I opened the second, to see a man waiting for me, boxes in hand. He was Changed, of course, bearing a crest of pure white feathers instead of hair; in an age where delivery could be life threatening, those who could weather the danger without issue were unsurprisingly in high demand, if only to insure that orders would continue to be delivered in a timely manner.
He was also one of the drivers I usually got at this time of night, and noticing the changes, he eyed the door behind me knowingly for a moment, giving me an approving grin before handing my order over. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for talking, and he restrained himself from any comments beyond the usual formalities.
Passing through my ‘airlock’, I returned to see Miranda had abandoned the couch to stand by the table instead, impatiently waiting for me to bring the food over.
Just to irritate her, I took my time on the walk back, and every exaggerated step I took filled her tiny face with an adorable rage. By the time I set the boxes down, she was full out pouting.
More interestingly, near the edge of the table I found Brunette and Blonde, not hiding, but not drawing attention to themselves, either. The two of them were what I could only call standing at attention… or, perhaps, standing for inspection. With their arms folded behind their backs, chests thrown out, heads submissively tilted down, they made quite the sight; even more so, when the impact of the boxes hitting the table shook them enough for them both to fall on their asses.
I watched them stand up shakily as, in my mind, my picture of the life of a Min in a Kennel adjusted dramatically. Turning, I saw Miranda fixing me with a dramatic glare again, for the first time in… hours. It almost felt nostalgic with how dramatically our relationship had shifted, even it was just earlier today that she had been acting as high and mighty as ever.
Ignoring her, I gathered several paper plates from a cabinet before returning to the table and taking a seat, noting with amusement how even that caused the smaller Mins to sway slightly. Brushing the smaller box to the side for the moment, I opened the box and took out a slice of pizza and set it on a plate.
Holding it in the air, I knew I had the absolute attention of everyone in the room, with each and every little head locked onto the plate with wondering expression. Teasingly, I moved it closer to Miranda, watching her start to reach out… before dropping it in front of Brunette and Blonde, who were so startled by this that they both fell onto the pizza. They leapt off, stained with grease and sauce and stammering apologies, but I just repeated the process of readying another plate.
This time, when it hovered in front of her face, Miranda kept her control for all of ten seconds before reaching out with eager hands to grab something that probably weighted more than she did.
Unfortunately for her, we still had some more to do.
“Before we start, Miranda, I think we should do something.”
She froze, looking guilty, before switching to a look of suspicion.
I didn’t give her a chance to speak, though.
“If we’re all going to be living together, shouldn’t you introduce me to your friends?” I gestured with one hand towards the other Mins, who at this point were doing their best to look even smaller than usual. “It’s just good manners, right?”
She scowled, clearly conflicted over whether to humor even that much from me or not. Thankfully, Brunette decided to make her move then, inching forward before dipping into another one of those unexpectedly erotic curtseys.
“Si-Master,” she began, “I’m terribly sorry that didn’t introduce ourselves to you before.”
Miranda’s glare only grew, but she didn’t try to stop her friend from speaking, not that I would have let her; the more the little Mins did… anything, really, the more fascinating I found them.
For her part, Brunette eyed Miranda warily for a moment, but then compared her to me before prioritized which whims she should obey.
She curtseyed again. “My name, Master, is Amber, and behind me is my friend Mia.”
True enough, the newly named Mia had also lowered into a courtesy of her own, before the two of them rose with a level of synchronization that spoke of long practice.
Amber continued. “We would like to thank you for your generosity in taking us into your home.”
I faced Miranda very deliberately as I answered. “Why thank you, Amber, that is very kind. You and your friend are welcome to eat, if you want.”
It filled me with great pleasure to see her face flush red with anger, tiny little fists clenching and unclenching as tried to hold her temper and resist the urge to attack someone who could easily back hand her off the table.
It was even more amusing to toss the second place in front of her and watch her startle in response, her rage quickly forgotten in the face of the sheer volume of food I had presented her.
Dinner, as it turned out, also came with a show: watching the rest of the diners eat.
Amber and Mia, hopeless outmatched by their slice, didn’t even try to move it, instead resorting simply chewing bits of it off the, to them, enormous slab of food, crawling upon it to gain a bit of the sausage, then to another area for sauce or cheese and so on. As they did so, I could help but notice that their already dirty bodies became more and more stained. It wasn’t mud wrestling, to be sure, but watching them get covered in an edible coating seemed to hold a special allure all it’s own.
Miranda, on the other hand, was in an awkward place where she could manage her food, but only barely; she’d raise the tip of it to her mouth, like she would have when she normally ate a pizza before she Min’d, only for the weight of it to overwhelm her and fall down on her body, forcing her onto the giving surface of the plate. It was too light to hurt her, thankfully, but she grew more and more frustrated as she had to fight her meal off her body, and grew more than a little dirty herself in the process.
I watched them, blatantly, as I finished my first slice, and moved on to my second, gaining Miranda’s glares and two nervous stares in the process, before I decided to make my move.
Even with all three of them watching, I was just so big that, when I was this close, none of them could effectively watch all of me at once. Distracted as they were by the food, my hand’s movements went unnoticed until it pinched Miranda around the waist and drew her up into the air.
Miranda flailed wildly in my grasp as below her, Amber and Mia stopped eating and started cowering behind the edge of their pizza, trying to avoid attention.
“Ian!” Miranda snarled. “Ian, what the hell are you doing? I’m trying to eat!”
I smiled. “I know you are, Miranda, but you’re making such a mess.”
Carefully, I grabbed first one arm, and then the other, pulled them behind her back, and pinned them under the hand still holding her in the air, in the process forcing her to thrust her still impressive chest forward.
“So beautiful, Miranda… but so dirty.”
I licked my lips as I stared at her, my eyes tracing the patterns formed of sauce and bits of cheese all over her, following them until one ended on her breast, just short of the nipple.
I couldn’t help notice how it seemed to rise almost proudly in the air.
“Why don’t I help you clean up?”
I moved her forward and started licking a clean path upon the delectable surface of her flesh.
From her knee, my tongue rose steadily up her leg, tracing an curved line as I resisted the urge to simply close my mouth around it’s firmness, instead proceeding up her side, before veering onto her stomach. The tip of it danced around her belly button for a moment as I enjoyed finally having my way with the very thing that had caught my eye from the beginning, flattening down to take in as much sensation as possible, before probing at the tiny dips and arcs formed by bone and muscle with careful precision.
It was only as my tongue rose to her breast, curling to cup it its bounty, that I realized that Miranda was screaming.
It wasn’t in anger, like I would have expected, or even in excitement, as I would have hoped, but in fear, real genuine fear, as if I was going to bite down on her at any time now.
For a second, for a long, long second, I almost kept going.
It would have been easy; even though she was fighting me, madly, desperately, her arms didn’t so much as budge from my grip, and the tiny thuds of her bare feet against my chest were a meaningless sensation I barely noticed.
Miranda was here, helpless in my grasp, exactly as she knew she would be, exactly as she had all but asked me to. Everything I wanted was, quite literally, at hand, and all I had to do was take it.
It was perhaps one of the greatest acts of will in my life to stopping.
This time I was the one glaring, looming over her with my hand tightening ever so slightly around her arms and waist.
“Miranda”, I said, my voice carefully blank, “What the fuck.”
There were no words, just screaming and crying, noises as mindless as the way she still fight blindly against me. The defiance had been fun, but I wasn’t in the mood anymore.
“Enough.” I snarled.
That one word was loud, louder than I had been the entire time, and from all of a foot from her face. Miranda froze, mouth open and tears streaming from her face as she stared at me, and for a long minute, no one spoke.
“No…” she cried. “No… please, Ian, no. Don’t hurt me, please, Ian no, don’t-”
I shook her roughly.
“Miranda,” I begin, “What in the hell made you think I was going to hurt you?”
Shaking her head, she refused to speak, simply making quiet moaning sounds. I sighed, and placed her on the table, careful not to hurt her, and left my hand on top of her body, still holding her in place.
Face down into the wood, if she was still talking, I couldn’t hear her from up here.
I gathered my thoughts, tapping my fingers irritably against the table, and back, as I tried to articulate anything more that frustrated rage.
“Miranda,” I said finally, “You told me that I could have you. That I could have you, willing. You would do anything, everything, and in return, your friends would be untouched. That was the deal.”
My free hand gestured wildly in the air as I continued, not that she could see it from her spot on the table. “It’s not like I asked you to do a pole dance or something, I mean… fuck, Miranda! This was supposed to be fun, and for you, too! I was going to make you cum!”
Beneath my hand, she laid motionless. Grabbing her arms again, I levered her up onto her knees, so she could see Amber and Mia, still huddled behind their pizza, helplessly watching this drama of giants play out.
I sighed. “Let me make you a deal, Miranda. As of now you are, effectively, in breach of the only real restraint you have on my behavior, on your guarantee of any treatment as a human being instead of a Min. I’m going to give you three options, now.”
I reached out and grabbed the slice the Mins were sheltering behind, placing it back in the box as they panicked, exposed. I watched, out of the corner of my eye, as they visibly considered running before giving up on the option as hopeless, instead choosing to stay and face their fate head on.
“The first option is… you keep doing this. You give up, on the first day no less, and thus tell me that I can do whatever I want to all of you. You won’t participate in the fun as much as I would of liked, but… you’re clearly not doing that anyways. What do I have to lose?”
I let go of her arms, and Miranda caught herself on her hands and knees instead of falling flat on her face, which was a promising sign.
“The second option is we try it again. I lick you, and lick you, and keep doing it until you are completely clean. And yes, I will go places you don’t want me to, but if you so much as protest? Option two is done.”
I paused, before reaching down with one finger and ever so gently lifted her head until it once again faced her friends.
“The third option,” I began, “is that I don’t do anything at all. Instead, you do. You walk over there, you pick up Amber and Mia, and you do everything to them that I was going to do to you. Everything. I will not so much as touch them, or you, but if we go this route, Miranda, I expect them to be spotless by the time we’re done, and preferably having orgasimed at least once. And if if they ask you to stop? If they cry? If they beg and plead?”
I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “I damn well expect you to keep going anyways.”
Well. That escalated quickly. You know Ghostbusters, at the end of the movie on the roof, where they have to make a choice?
Choose the form of your destructor, Miranda.
Also, that feeling when you have to look back to figure out WTF your characters are actually named.
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I vote for option 3 but that’s just me for in my eyes it’s the lesser of the three
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So, the flame of inspiration hasn’t died yet, but I need to balance this newfound writing fever with other things. Like sleeping. I keep getting into the frenzy of ‘I know where this is going I need to get there’ and all of a sudden it’s stupid fucking late, and I have yet to win my war upon my own need to rest.
Also, at some point I should probably try to go back and edit everything, but historically, every time I do that I basically lose my will to live. So. I’m not doing that, and you all are just going to have to suffer the shitty quality… yeah.
It was fair to say that the situation had gotten out of hand.
I’d always intended to have Miranda live up to her obligations, but I had meant to… build up to it, take her step by step beyond her comfort zone until she found herself fulfilling my every whim and not even thinking twice about it. It was meant to take place in the span of weeks, or monthes even, in a long, patient seduction of sorts.
This was pretty clearly not that, yet I couldn’t actully bring myself to regret that fact. The restraint, the slow pacing had never been a thing I wanted, but more of a gift to Miranda herself. If I cared about her less, I would have already explored, and exploited, ever nook and cranny of her by now, and the more time I spent with her, the more I regret that I hadn’t done so yet.
Miranda, the woman I had low key loved for years now, was a force, someone who could use her sheer force of will and charisma to make anyone submit to her demands. This Miranda, now? She was Min’d, afraid, naked and desperate enough to beg for help from me, of all people.
Miranda was, in more than just the literal sense, less than she had been before; she wasn’t someone to idolize and respect anymore, and I had slowly been coming to the realization that I no longer had to treat her that way anymore, either.
In the face of the look of horror she was giving me, I began tapping a finger on the table, delighting in the way she shrank away from it.
“Tick tock, Miranda. Tick tock. You don’t have forever to make a decision; in fact I’d say you have… a minute left to make a choice.”
Steadily mounting dread filled her expression as she looked from my face, to my finger, it’s steady beat marking the merciless passing of her time, to the faces of her friends, already lowered in surrender.
“Ian, I… wait, you don’t have to do this! Please, Ian!” she begged.
“You’re right, Miranda. I don’t have to do this.” I smiled. “But we both know that I want to.” I paused for effect. “Thirty seconds.”
At that, she fell to her knees and begged. Actually begged, tears falling from her eyes and her arms spread beseechingly. “Ian… I came to you for help! You said… you said you take care of me! Ian, please!”
“Miranda… you don’t get it, do you?” I muttered affectionately, “I am taking care of you.”
There was a startled yelp as my hand moved in from behind her, gently bumping its heel into the back of her knees before curving up suddenly, scooping Miranda right into the palm of my hand, where she stared up at me with such an adorably confusion that I had to laugh.
“Look at yourself, Miranda. Look at what you’re doing, look at what you’re wearing. Are you the same person you were a year ago? You can’t even handle a slice of pizza!”
I began running a finger down her back, feeling it tremble under my touch as I steadily moved it down and back, and kept my voice as soothing as possible. “You’re not a human anymore, Miranda, you’re a Min. You have been for some time. Look at me, OK?”
Mindlessly, she responded to the command and tilted her head back until it faced mine. “That’s a good girl. I want you to think, and answer me, honestly: do you really think you could take care of yourself right now? Find food, water, or shelter?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“And what about your friends? How well do you think they could take care of themselves, if they were left alone?”
That got more of a response, a brief flash of dread flashing through her face before she whispered guiltily. “They couldn’t.”
“That’s right. Now, tell me. How well do you think I’m treating you? How well do you think you’d do if, one day, a man you never before had walked into the Kennel and managed to take you? Do you think things would be as good as they are now? Do you think he’d treat you as well as I do?”
“N-n-no.” Miranda sobbed quietly. “No, he wouldn’t.”
Slowly, I raised my empty hand and cupped her cheeks with my thumb and forefinger, pressing just enough to hold her head in place.
“Do you think you’re my girlfriend, Miranda? My roommate? My lover? Do you think we’re in any sort of relationship that means I have to treat you like an equal? Because we’re not. I own you, Miranda. I own you, and if I want to slap a collar around your neck and drag you around on a leash, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me. I said I was going to treat you well, and I will, but I don’t want you to think for a second that that is something you are owed, because its not. It’s something you are being given.”
I looked down on the figure shuddering in my hand, the last remnant of a person that no longer was, and sighed. I released her face, and instead grabbed one of her legs, squeezing it gently, feeling the tiny muscles flex against my hand.
“I’m giving you all these things, Miranda. To you, and your friends. And just like I promised, I’ll take care of anyone else you want my to protect, and make suffer anyone you want me to hurt. And all you have to do is listen to what I have to say.”
As I spoke, my hand inched its way up her body, squeezing her butt, rubbing the saliva still clinging to her toned stomach, before settling at last just below her chest. For a long moment I waited there, watching her eyes, shocked and incredulous, glance down from my fingers to and back up to my face, and at that moment of comprehension, I ran the pad of my thumb over an engorged nipple.
She moaned quietly.
“That’s the way. Isn’t that nice?” She nodded, and I did it again, lingering on the tiny point of hardness longer this time.
Miranda, lost and helpless, smiled back at me, and in that moment I dropped her on her rear.
“Now let’s try this again, Miranda. Get your friends. Do it, or I will.”
Me: talks about how I get so monfocus on this story.
Me: meanders around with all this crap I didn’t see coming. -
So some of the facade has been dropped
Love the dynamic of these 4 and am also curious about this world they inhabit by the bits you have revealed about it. Looking forward to more 
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I feel like I kind of rushed the last couple of posts out just to post them, so I’m trying to take my time on this a bit more.
“Ow! Ian! What the hell?”, MIranda swore angrily.
Sprawled out in front of me, undignified and vulnerable, she still somehow managed to look indignant, even betrayed. As if everything that had happened, everything I had done, everything she had said, all of it had never happened.
I exhaled sharply.
It was the only warning she had before I pinned her to the table like an insect on display. There was a moment of surprise, then she began to struggle, but with my finger jammed into the small of her back, there was no way for her to reach me, no real form of meaningful resistance she could pose.
With a casual menace, I brought my other hand into her field of vision, slowly placing the tip of the index finger behind the thumb, before pulling it away to aim.
“I think, Miranda, that you just won’t understand. Not until you’re taught a lesson.”
Then I flicked my finger straight onto one of her ass cheeks.
She yelped, pushing momentarily harder against my hold until I lightly increased the pressure against her, forcing her down.
The next flick landed against the other cheek.
“Ian, I-”
The first cheek again.
“You need to-”
And then the second.
“Plea-”
First.
“No, I-”
Second.
“Wait!”
At that, I paused. After all of this, I had honestly forgotten the other Mins where there.
“Wait, please!” Amber continued, from her position near my elbow, a rather dangerous one for her to inhabit without me knowing.
After a moment of thought, I placed my hand flat onto the table.
“I’m listening.”
While I still didn’t care much about them, I had to admit the sheer… compliance of the smaller Mins had grown on me in the short time I had known them. Perhaps because of their size, they both seemed far more aware of the reality of their new lives, as well as willing to act accordingly, which was an attitude I was willing to support.
“Master,” And again with that word. Part of me wondered if Amber kept using it in an attempt to help warm me to her and her friend. If she was… it was probably working.
“I know you’re angry. But-” And her she paused for a moment, visibly gathering her courage, “I also know you don’t want to hurt her. Not really, anyways.”
I raised an eyebrow. Bold words… coming from her, anyways, who thus far had taken pains to not do anything I could possibly take as defiance.
“If you will allow it, Master, I have a suggestion.”
“Go on.” I prompted. If nothing else, anything to cause her to act so unusually should be interesting.
Amber curtseyed. “Thank you for your tolerance, Master. I suggest you let us talk to her. As you know, Miranda is stubborn. But I think that, if you just give us a little time, we should be able to talk her around to a more rational position.”
“Oh?”
Really, I had no reason to not let them try, but I was curious to hear her reasoning.
“Master, you knew Miranda from… before. And if I may, I believe those memories are stopping her from fully accepting her new position. Talking to you makes her remember who she was, stops her from moving on from her old life. We can approach her from a level she will be more understanding of.”
And here she gestured at Mia who had, at some point, crept up to Miranda, crouching down near her head from a careful distance.
“She’s only known the two of us since we Min’d,” Amber continued, but at that I stopped paying attention to her, mind whirling over this new revelation.
Miranda had told me, she had insisted, that she would only allow herself to be taken by me if I had also taken them, fought every step of the way to see to their needs, even beyond her own. I had thought they were friends she knew from before, and Miranda had just wanted to take them with her when she left, keep one more piece of nostalgia, even after her life had fallen apart.
If she only knew them after she Min’d, though, there’d be no reason for to be so determined to keep them happy at the cost of her own well being. Unless…
“…we can use our perspective-”
“Who was first.” I interrupted.
Amber blinked at my sudden velmence.
“Pardon me?” She asked warily.
“Who Min’d first?” I repeated, “One of you? Or was it…”
From below my finger, Miranda jerked, suddenly, fighting against my hold on her with renewed vigor. Even when that failed, she kept fighting, crying out furiously, desperate to free herself.
“Ah.” I said. “So it’s guilt, then.”
Guilt was her motivation to protect them, not friendship, or love, or to keep some semblance of her time before she had Min’d; she wanted to protect them so badly because what she had already done to them was already more than she could ever forgive herself for.
“…Yes, Master, I believe so.” Amber confirmed. Her tone was bland, and she was carefully staring off to the side, unwilling to meet my eyes.
“But that’s just why you need to do it!” Mia shouted suddenly.
I had never actully heard the little blonde speak before; she had a surprising set of lungs on her for someone her size. At her words, Miranda froze, staring at the woman in front of her with the rapt expression of a deer in the headlights, as if she was too frightened to look away.
“Do you think that doing this is going to change anything!? That throwing this little fit is actully going to help anyone?” She demanded.
“If you don’t do it, all that means is that someone else will. Make no mistake: this will happen. It always does, Miranda. And since there’s no one else around, that ‘someone’ will be him. Have you seen the size of his fingers? He’ll snap us like twigs and never even notice!”
Rude. Not entirely inaccurate, but rude all the same.
“And what happens if he gets angry? Not this mild frustration he has going, but actual, genuine anger? Who do you think he’ll take it out on? You? No matter how mad her gets, you’re his…” Mia trailed off, words failing her as gestured between the two of us, trying and failing to grasp the word to explain our relationship.
“-His obsession or something!” She burst out finally. “Oh, maybe he spanked you a little, but at the end of the day you know he’ll always leave you intact. Me, though? Amber? He barely even knows our names! Do you think he’d honestly care about breaking our legs if it made you regret acting up? You told us you’d protect us, but all you’re doing is trying to get us hurt!”
“Nooo…” Miranda whimpered quietly, tears falling from her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t, he won’t-”
“Stop!” Mia shouted, suddenly looking tired. “Just… stop, Miranda. Wake up and smell the Min Chow.”
She walked forward, falling to her knees in front of Miranda’s proportionally enormous head, hands settling next to each of her eyes.
“We’re Mins. We’re just… fancy pets, now, at best. We take what we can get and we’re thankful for it, because there’s worse, MIranda. There’s always worse. This… thing you have going on with Master? I don’t think you understand how good we have it, now: this is the best case scenario, here. All he does is play around with us, and we get food, water, safety; I mean, holy shit, we have a Min House! An actual Min House! He is spoiling you, Miranda. Everyone at the Kennel would kill to get this kind of treatment that you’re so determined to fuck up.”
Mia let go and stood up, walking a few steps away and gazed off into the rest of the house before she continued to speak, her hands clenched so tightly that the knuckles were tiny dots of white.
“If you really want to protect us, Miranda, then you have to be one to one to use us. Lick us, bite us, step on us; hell, stick us on your fingers like puppets, if you have to! Whatever it is, whatever he wants, just do it.”
It was a persuasive argument if I had ever heard one, and if it enough to finally enough to make Miranda engage? More than worth giving her one last chance.
No one moved as I lifted my finger off her back, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. I’m not even sure Amber breathed.
For a long moment Miranda lay there, her face a picture of indecision, before it firmed.
She lifted herself off the table, got back to her feet, and without saying anything reached forward toward Mia, standing in front of her with her back still turned.
Or, where I remind everyone that yes, Mia is actully a character.
And here. We. Go.
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Got to love that guilty conscious
