Buy One Get Two Free
“You may come to realize, in time, that as a pet, a lot of your life will remain the same: I will keep you fed, housed, and well cared for. We’ll spend time together. The main difference, you’ll find, is… a certain restriction on your freedoms that you didn’t have before, things I allowed you that you’ll no longer have…”
I trailed off, before reaching under Miranda’s chin with a finger, forcing her out of her slump to maintain eye contact with me.
“That is, if you’re a pet in good standing. If I find your attitude disrespectful, though, I’ll be forced to take action. There are lines a human can cross that pet are not allowed, after all.”
I sighed. “Of course, this is hard because it’s still you Miranda. There is only so much I’m willing to do to you compared to others, and that could make disciplining you… difficult.”
For a moment, hope flared into her eyes. Then I continued.
“Do you know what one of your biggest mistakes is, Miranda?” I asked. “About the situation we’re in?”
I paused, then clarified. “Beyond the obvious, of course.”
I watched the hope began to flicker and fade, but she didn’t respond. After a moment passed, I continued. “The fuss you made over Amber and Mia. The worry. The concern.”
I gazed deep into her eyes, watching the hope be snuffed out, the bleak despair being overtaken by a fresher, rawer fear.
“Yeeess.” I hissed gleefully, lifting my finger and forcing her to her feet. “If you doubted your ability to manage me, you never should have mentioned them, never should have brought them here. I know the Kennel was unpleasant, but I think you’ve realized by now that I can be worse if I feel the need. You thought I would protect them, but in reality? All you’ve done was give me a weakness to exploit, painted a target on their backs.”
At last, Miranda found her voice. “No… Ian, no please! They’re innocent! They didn’t do anything to you, they’ve tried to please you, Ian pleas-”
“You’re right.” I interrupted. She stared blankly at my response. “What? You are. They’ve bent over backwards to try and comply with my demands, and I’ll admit I’m happy with their attitudes. They’re attractive, willing little toys who would do just about anything for a cookie; what’s not to like? The thing is, Miranda, is that doesn’t matter. They could actually worship me as a god, with prayers and rituals, and they’d still be just as disposable to me as they are now. I may have grown attached to them, and I may regret the act, but you’ve helped me realize that, in one short car trip, I could easily go find two new toys to replace them, or more, even. There’s always going to be more Mins, after all. Ones just as desperate to please, ones so pathetically afraid and hungry that they’d willingly crawl into my mouth just for a chance to eat whatever leftovers remained…”
I stopped and considered what I just said. “Actually, that does sound kind of hot. I think I might want to try that later. But I’m wandering off topic here: while they are good little Mins, that fact only does so much for them. It’s what you think of them that makes their lives have any weight to them. Which, coincidentally, brings me to the next point.”
Reaching out, I scooped up Miranda by her butt, settling her next to my body as I tucked Sydney under my arm. “But first, let’s take this to the table. I think we’ll want the room.”
I had gone and collected a few things before I had returned to the chair, and I could see Miranda take in the new additions to the table top: the box where I had gotten the outfits out of… and a large cage. One just large enough for her to stand in, with its door hanging open invitingly.
Near the top, a water bottle was attached at just the right height for Miranda to be able to drink from its metal tube, while a currently empty tray for food sat on top of a soft bed of litter, the only other feature in an empty environment. To complete the picture, a simple clip hung from the door, one I could manipulate easily, but still requiring more force than even Sydney could muster to open.
“I had a couple of weeks before my house was ready,” I explained to Miranda as I reached my usual chair, “And I decided it would be for the best to prepare for almost any eventuality. I didn’t really think I’d need it, but now I’m happy I thought ahead so much.”
Gently, I deposited Miranda onto the table, where she scrambled to her feet uneasily, before putting Sydney back onto my lap.
“You know, Sydney, you’ve started to grow on me.” I mentioned almost absently as I began to stroke her back again. “Under the circumstance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate you from Miranda, but you’re turning out to be a great little lap pet all the same.”
There was something unbelievably soothing about petting something so soft and warm, and way she rested perfectly in her new place.
“But now that we’re all here, I think we should turn back to the subject at hand.” I began, turning back to Miranda.
“Amber and Mia. Your friends… or should I say, your ‘friends’? They’re disposable to me, Miranda, but I’m curious: what do they mean to you? I know I call them your friends, but are they? Do you actually like spending time with them? Or they a burden, an obligation? A symbol of your guilt? Or perhaps are they even less than that? Do you just like having little toys of your own, Miranda? Little helpless creatures so desperate for help that they’d even take the person who ruined their lives as a protector? That’s what we’re going to find out, because now we’re going to play a game.”
I smiled a shark’s grin, toothy and filled with anticipation, and she shuddered. “I call it Sacrifice, and for now, Sacrifice is how we’ll clarify your new living situation. Sacrifice, you see, is a game with real life consequences, with penalties that will be very real. And the first thing you need to do to play is simple: strip.”
Miranda’s eyes widened, and she backed away, holding up her arms in a futile defensive moment. “What? Ian, no-”
“Ian, yes.” I interrupted. “But don’t worry, Miranda, it’s completely necessary. How can you understand the cost of losing something when you still have it? But before you can object, like you always do, I need to make something clear.”
Reaching out, I pushed two fingers into her stomach, and she let out a delightful little sound of surprise as she fell onto her butt.
“You, Miranda, are being punished. Normally, I like it when you struggle a bit, fight, complain. Show me that spirit I fell in love with. But right now? Every time you defy me, every time you disobey, every time you refuse? I take something away from you, or the others. I’ve taken a lot of things from them, Miranda, and there’s only so much I take from them until there’s nothing left. So, if I were you, I’d think very carefully about your choices.”
I leaned back in my chair, removing myself from her presence, as she got back up. I wanted whatever to happen to be by done by her own hands.
“So, Miranda. Clothes off.” I tilted my head. “Or do you want to see what happens?”
As it turns out, Miranda did not want to find out what happens.
“Good.” I crooned gently as she reached for the back of her dress. “Good girl, Miranda.”
It wasn’t a strip show, sadly; Miranda took of her clothing in as efficient way as she could, all the while staring at me with soulful, tear filled eyes, silently pleading for what she didn’t dare to ask. As she finally removed the dress, I stared at what she revealed, the tiny intricate underwear, all transparent silk and lace adorning her body, attracting the eye in just right way.
She looked significantly less pleased with my enraptured attention to her outfit than she had been earlier.
“Stop there.” I commanded. “And get those shoes back on.”
Confused, she put the heels back on. I didn’t explain the reasoning, yet. That would be later. Next up…
I laid my hand, face up onto the table, halfway between where me and where she stood. “Bring me the dress, Miranda.”
At that, she started to open her mouth, only to close it in sudden realization. Instead, she reluctantly picked up her outfit from the table and walked towards me on shaky legs, only to stop at my hand.
Miranda looked me said a single, almost sobbing word. “Please.”
It had worked on me before now; again and again and again, I had folded before her desperation. Now I only raised an eyebrow in the air as I asked a simple question.
“Do you think I won’t?”
Miranda broke then, just a bit. She stayed standing, but she sagged in place, her body going limp, tears now falling from her face. I don’t think she even realized she had dropped her dress, or that it had fallen into my hand, until I spoke.
“Good girl, Miranda.” She straightened up at the sound of my voice, in that same way I had seen from the other: at attention, arms behind her back, chest out, head tilted submissively
A beat past, then I saw her move past her unconscious reaction, staring at her now empty hands, and then mine, as she realized what happened.
“You did well.” I continued warmly. “I know you’re having a hard time listening to instruction at the moment, but don’t worry, we’ll get through it together.”
I reached out with my free hand and gently stroked a finger against her cheek; she sighed gently and leaned into my touch, so engrossed by the sensation that she failed to notice the first hand put her dress back into the box. I could have stopped there, but instead, I caressed her hair, a smaller, kinder smile on my face.
No matter what I tried, the bigger gestures I made for her had never gone over well; she had stressed, struggled, and worried every step of the way. It was only moments like these, smaller in scope, with simple physical affection and praise that she truly seemed at peace.
It made me wonder: did she even want to live a life as a person? To face the complexities and hardships of trying to charter her own way in life, against the limitations of being a Min? To try and act an equal against people, beings that physically were so far beyond her to make her seem as nothing and that her mind couldn’t even conceive of being human?
Or did she, somewhere deep inside, want to be owned after all? To live the life of a pet princess, spoiled and adored with a tiny toy crown on her head? Cared for, clothed in finery, fed off her Master’s own plate and carried to and fro, all without worrying about anything more than her own happiness and doing what she was told?
On my lap, I could feel Sydney’s body being lifted up by the power of my erection, the way she adjusted herself around it. It only made me feel even hotter.
“I’m proud of you, Miranda.” I said. “I’m so proud. Are you ready for the next step?”
She frowned as I removed my finger, before tentatively nodding.
“Good. Good, Miranda.” I paused. “Now, get in the cage.”
She jerked. “N-” she began, stopping herself before she could violate my taboo, only to began to beg. “Please. Please Ian, please don’t do this, please!”
I held out my finger again and Miranda rubbed her face against it, almost frantically, hoping it was a sign I’d listen to her and we’d go back to what we were doing before. It was a tempting thought, true, and something I’d love to explore.
But all of this was about proving a point.
I gave her a minute to lavish me with affection before speaking. “Wait any longer, Miranda, and I’ll take that as disobedience.”
She flung herself away from my finger like it burned her, staring at me in betrayal. She stared up at me, and mouthed, ‘please’, one more time, before her nerve broke. Letting out a horrified cry, she turned on her heel and ran into the cage. Once she made it inside, she fell to her knees upon the litter and sobbed into her hands.
“Good girl, Miranda.” I soothed. “Good, good girl.”
Under the sound of my praise, her tears slowed and she looked back to me hopefully. “You did so well, didn’t you? That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Isn’t it nice to listen to me? Isn’t it nice to make me proud?”
I watched her sniffle, and wipe away the rest of the tears before she got back to her feet. Despite the fact she was standing in a literal cage, she smiled at me, happy with her simple treatment and my basic kindness.
It was almost sad to manipulate her so easily.
“Be a good little pet, Miranda, and close the door.” She paled. “Close yourself in the cage, Miranda.”
She shook, for a long, long moment, but then she took a step forward without me having to say anything else. Then another, and another, until she stood in front of the cage’s entrance. She reached out towards the door, only to stop again, hesitation clear on her face. She looked at me, then, then the cage, then at me again.
Then Miranda, without me having to do anything more than speak, closed the door, sealing herself in a cage of her own free well.
Immediately, she grabbed the bars, as if to undo what she had just done, and wept hysterically before she began to scream.
“No. No. NonononononoNONONO!” As I reached out my own hand to pull the cage towards me, her panicked cries gained a new focus.
“Ian! Ian! What did you do to me? What did you do to me?!”
“Me?” I asked, as the cage arrived before me. “Nothing, Miranda. Absolutely nothing.”
Calmly, I grabbed the dangling clasp and locked the door with a smile. “You did this to yourself.”
Oh that was good, really liked the part when she closed the cage on her self.
For a time, I let her cry. Partly out of simple enjoyment, to be sure. Miranda being naked was still new to me, must less her in lingerie, and there was some sort of kinky pleasure I took in watching her, trapped in her little cage. But that was more a bonus for me than anything. The point of it was the despair.
So, happily enough, I let her marinate in her helplessness, and how far she had fallen.
Then I let her out.
Miranda’s tears cut off with a yelp as my hand approached her cage, and she backpettled frantically, as if hiding in an empty cage would protect her. She stilled, though, as I released the clasp and swung the door open invitingly. I waited, but she she didn’t move beyond fixing me with a suspicious stare.
“You’re free to go.” I said. “No tricks.”
Reaching back into the box, I pulled out her dress once again and laid it out on the table as she stared.
“Don’t you want this?” I teased. “Cloothes, Miranda. You like clothes.”
Cautiously, she ventured from the cage, never dropping eye contact with me as she took each tremulous step, until she reached the dress.
Bending over, and giving me a view of her back I had to force myself to not experence with touch as well as sight, Miranda picked up the small bundle of fabric. For a second, she closed her eyes and hugged it to herself. Then she looked to where I patiently waited.
“Well?” She asked. “Now what?”"
I smiled. “Now we play, Miranda. A simple game of choice, a brief series of binary questions. Or, you could leave the table right now, I guess.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t advise that, not if you ever want to see your friends again, but you could.”
She puffed herself up with righteous fury, but I cut in before she could go anywhere with it. “Oh, they’re fine. They’ll continue to be fine, even. But you will never see them again Miranda. Not until you play my little game.”
She bit back the first thing she wanted to say. Then the second, and the third, and quite possibly the fourth, before she found something she thought diplomatic enough to say.
“Fine, Ian. So how do we play?”
“I’ve already told you the how, Miranda: answer my questions. Pick Choice A or Choice B, no third answers, no refusal to choose. What you should be more interested in are the stakes.”
I leaned in eagerly, driving her back a step in response.
“I’m sure you remember what situation you were in just a minute ago. Well, unfortunately, your friends are in the exact same situation: locked away, no clothes, nothing to do, only Min Chow to eat. You can help them, Miranda… but it’ll cost you. Because right now? Right now, there’s only one set of freedoms in this house, and you have all of them. If you want their lot to improve? You have to worsen yours.”
My smile widened as she shook her head slowly.
“The name of the game is Sacrifice, Miranda. To give something up to receive something else in return. I made this because I’m curious: will you give up your comforts for theirs? How much do they mean to you?”
I leaned back as her wordless denials grew more frantic.
“Let’s find out: first question, Miranda. Who lives in a cage? Is it you, or them?”
At last she found her voice. “I… I can’t make that choice, Ian. I just can’t.”
I wagged a finger lecturingly. “Ah, you see, I thought you’d say that. So let’s make things clear: if you don’t choose, none of you get that freedom. It vanishes into the wind, lost forever. Either one of you lives in a cage, Miranda, or you all do.”
There was a beat of silence as it sank in. Then, “Them!” she shouted frantically. “Them! I’m not going back in there! I’m can’t handle it I-”
Then she gasped, and held her hand to her mouth as if trying to stop herself from saying anything else, but she didn’t try to take it back, either.
“Very well then, Miranda,” I said, trying to look and sound as soothing as possible. “No more cage for you.”
Unless I wanted to, of course. There was clearly some kind of trauma there, either from actually being in a cage or how she had walked herself inside it, and it wasn’t something I was above using.
She sagged in relief at my confirmation, and I let her have that brief moment to calm herself before I continued. At that moment, she looked indescribably pathetic in a way I couldn’t place: a lingerie clad woman, kneeling in helpless joy on a table that dwarfed her, hands clasped tightly around a dress so small it barely covered her.
“Thank you, Ian.” She whispered fervently. “Thank you.”
“Who eats Min Chow?” I asked in response, ruthlessly shattering her calm.
She stiffened at my words, and let out a silent gasp, but didn’t hesitate in answering. “They do, Ian.”
I nodded. “Who wears only underwear and heels?”
I had put this question after the other two for a reason: guilt. I couldn’t see her allowing herself to return to the cage or the Chow, but she had probably grown used to nudity at this point. After denying them twice, the guilt could be enough for her to accept that return. I was fine with the answer either way, really, I’d get my eyefulls of her no matter what, but seeing her struggle over the question so furiously was delightful.
Miranda hesitated again, and this time I didn’t interrupt, not wanting to taint her choice.
“I… I…” She began, before trailing off. She gulped and gathered her courage. “I do. I only wear my underwear.”
I couldn’t help licking my lips as she said it, and Miranda stirred uneasily at the sight. Even more so as I reached out and pinched the dress she still held in her hands. For an instant, she tried to fight me, to keep her hold on it, before surrendering it to my pull.
I didn’t move the fabric away immediately, instead letting her gaze at it with helpless desire a few moments more before returning it to the box a second time.
That, at least, would be returned to her in time, no matter what she thought about it. I had so much fun dressing her once that there was no way I would deny myself that pleasure in the future, both with more interesting outfits and a far more literal take on the phrase ‘dressing’.
“As for the last… I’ll admit that’s something I didn’t think through. There’s a pile of everything needed to make the Min House livable right in front of the very house they’re trapped in, yet I have nothing to add to the cage you’re not even using. I could leave it as an easy choice, but this is supposed to be a punishment…”
I mused on the problem briefly. “How about this? Either I subject you to some as yet undefined indignity in the future, or the others continue to live in their little house with nothing but some sheets. Seems fair to me.”
“‘Fair’, huh?” Miranda snorted bitterly. “Sure, that makes sense. You know what? Fine. Fine!”
She lifted her arms into the air, as if she was making it easier to grab her. “Do what you want to me; you’re going to anyways! I might as well give them something out of it.”
When I didn’t move, they fell back to her sides and she sighed.
“And besides, that makes two for them and two for me. Sounds pretty fair, doesn’t it?”
I’ll admit, I feel a bit rusty, and this chapter feels a tad off, but we’re back.
You know, I’ve been sitting on this part for a week or two now? Just been waiting for the right balance of energy and MOTIVATION to get it written out and, well, let me tell you that I’m excited, anyways.
“Up and at 'em, ladies.” I said cheerfully as I swung the Min House open.
They had been sitting on the fabric pile I had left them originally, probably for lack of anything better to do, but as I approached they assumed their attention positions, as obedient as ever. Hilariously, me opening the house jostled them out of place, sending them falling back onto their little nest, but they recovered in admirable speed and returned to proper form.
“Miranda and I discussed a few things, and the good news is your situation is going to improve.” I explained. “You’re actually still on house arrest for awhile, but we’re going to be having a little fun and your attendance is required. I’ll set you back up with everything afterwards.”
I held out my hand for them but while they approached amicably enough, they hesitated as they grew closer, staring up at me with increasingly concerned faces. I probably would have been annoyed at that normally, but I was so excited for what was coming next that I merely smiled wider.
“Did I mention this is going to be your last chance for decent food until the next round of negotiations? Because you two are on Min Chow for now as well.”
It was amazing, I thought idly as Amber and Mia all but flew into my palm, just how effective the proper motivation could be.
“Excellent choice.” I murmured, before closing my hand around them.
I all but whistled as I walked back to the table, and it was clear my good mood was putting everyone on edge.
“…Ian?” Miranda asked warily. “What’s going on?”
I had left her and Sydney there once we had concluded our game, struck by a sudden inspiration that I was dying to see through. I hadn’t told them what was about to happen, but I had realized it would be easier if I didn’t give her time to stress over it, and maybe work herself up to try to flee and hide somewhere in the house. It wouldn’t save her from me, of course, but I didn’t want to deal with the hassle, either.
Better not to give her a warning. Or a choice.
“We’re having a little celebration, Miranda.” I answered. “I like to think we’ve made some progress just now, and I’d like to treat that with the importance it deserves.”
She flinched when I swung my hand to her, visibly stopping herself from retreating, and the sight was a little sting of irritation in my good mood. Instead of letting her pick up her friends, as I had planned, I lightly tossed them at her without any warning.
As she fumbled to catch them, I strode off into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and setting it on the counter. As I walked to the freezer I found myself humming cheerfully as my attitude improved, pulling out the chocolate ice cream and scooping out a decent serving into the bowl before returning the carton to the fridge.
By the time I returned to the table with the largely empty bowl I found the women bunched together near the center, as they often did when they found my actions alarming. It was adorable how they acted like that would protect them at all, but it probably helped calm their nerves if nothing else, so I refrained from laughing and simply sat at my usual spot, with the bowl placed before me.
“Amber.” I began. She jolted at the sound of her name. “Mia. Miranda.”
I tapped the space in front of me, next to the bowl, with a finger. “All of you come here.”
There was a moment of confusion where they all stared at each other, before all eyes turned to the one member of their number I had excluded, who looked unsure if she should be happy or terrified at being the odd one out. Thankfully, they started moving before I had to repeat myself, and soon enough I had three little women lined up in front of me, staring up at my face with worried eyes.
Then, before any of them could react, my left hand lashed out and seized Miranda. Palm on her chest, and fingers gripping her shoulders, I easily forced her down onto the table top, and a single finger tip moved to cover her mouth, and any sounds she could have made. The smaller Mins screamed at my sudden movements, but before they do anything else my right hand pushed the bowl behind them. They jumped and spun to look at it, and were so panicked they didn’t see me calmly lay my arm on the other side of the bowl, trapping them in place.
“You know, I’d like to thank you two.” I said casually. “The more time passes, the more sure I am that Miranda would have been even more unreasonable without your presence, and the constant guilt and fear for your lives.”
What I could see of their tiny faces paled and Miranda’s thrashing grew suddenly frantic under my grip.
“And in general I’d like to think I’ve treated you well, all things considered. But…” I trailed off for a moment as I tried to find the words, and I tapped a finger absently on Miranda’s breast.
“I’ve been using you, successfully I might add, as hostages, but as I rely on that more and more her she’s going to be to rebel unless I prove that I’m serious and I don’t think I’ve actually done anything to you, beyond locking you in your House. Certainly nothing where she could see it. So, under the circumstances, I’ve decided that Miranda needs a reminder that I am, in fact, absolutely not bluffing when I start pushing things farther. Not about you, not about her, not about anything. In the same vein, I owe her an indignity, and really, I just want to have a bit of fun. So we’re going to have a little party to celebrate the fact that you’re all my hostages and that you should all be terrified about it, and as a paper thin excuse for me to play with you all, to kind of cover all these points all at once.”
Taking my free hand, I set it in front of them, fingers spread wide so that each of them stood in the empty space between two fingers. There was a span of time there, brief as it was, that they could have tried to run, or hide, or really do anything to resist me. Honestly, I had expected them to. Instead, they merely stared up at me with resignation on their faces.
Once I was satisfied with how things were lined up, carefully I closed my hand and trapped them in between my fingers.
Lifting them into the air, I turned my hand and looked at it, and my two prisoners, like a woman admiring her rings. They hung there, limp and unmoving, but seemed to be unhurt, just disheartened.
“This isn’t about you, you’re just the most convenient tool at hand for my needs. If it makes you feel better, I’m not trying to make you miserable just for fun, I’m trying to make Miranda miserable for fun. Well, that probably doesn’t help. Either way…” I trailed off and shrugged. “Sorry about all this.”
Then I dropped them into the ice cream.
I felt Miranda’s scream under my fingertip, and pressed down lightly in response.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, they’re fine. It’s not like they’re going to be hurt by such a soft landing.”
I laughed and adjusted my grip, freeing her mouth as I lifted her, thrashing, into the air.
“Besides, Miranda, you really should be worrying more about yourself. How easily you’ve forgotten that this is about humiliating you.”
And just like that, she froze.
“What?” She asked in a quiet voice, but I ignored her for the moment to look in the bowl instead.
When I had dropped them, Amber and Mia had sunk pretty deeply into the ice cream, but it seemed by now they had managed to free themselves and get back on their feet. Shivering slightly from the cold, huddling together for warmth, and covered in brown splotches, but otherwise unharmed by my antics.
Admittedly, this all was a bit of calculated risk; ice cream itself was harmless, of course, but for all intents and purposes they were standing in a snow field while naked. For now they were fine, but if I left in there too long it could be hazardous for their health. Mins are delicate creatures, after all, and while I was acting careless with them, I had no intention to let them actually be injured.
“You know, I’ve been craving some ice cream, and would you look at this, Miranda! All of this, just for me!”
I paused. “Well, for all of us, technically, but somehow I think I’ll be coming out of this with the lion’s share, don’t you? Anyways, I have ice cream, I have a bowl…”
I trailed off as I made a show of looking around the table. “But wait! What’s this? I don’t have a spoon! How tragic!”
Sighing in exaggerated regret, I turned my head, staring at the woman in my hand meaningfully. “If only I had something else I could use…”
It didn’t take Miranda long to get the message.
“No…” She said in horror. “No, Ian, you wouldn’t, you couldn’t! How would that even work?!”
“I don’t know,” I admitted cheerfully, “But you know what? I’m excited to find out!”
That was a bit of a white lie, if I was being perfectly honest. I had put some thought into all of this before hand, after all. I may not know for sure, but I had a few theories how to make it work.
I was milking all of this to for drama, yes, to inspire fear in the Mins lost in the bowl and to Miranda trapped in my hand, but it also let the ice cream warm and melt, become easier to scoop, as well as limit how long I could play this out before it melted completely and ended the game.
Moreover, I had been very particular when I had picked Miranda up, pinning her arms with my thumb and fingers while resting her back against my palm, which left her lower half protruding from my hand. It was a somewhat awkward way to hold her, but I had my reasons: You see, even softened, the ice cream would probably resist a Min’s body to some extent, and while I could easily force it, that could possible hurt Miranda. Most of their bodies were soft and delicate, but if I had to name the strongest part of a Min’s body, one that could cut into ice cream the easiest… it would be the legs.
“I"ve got an idea, though. Let’s start with this: open your legs, Miranda.”
“What?!” She screeched. “Ian, I-”
“Oh well. I guess I’ll have to handle it myself.”
I cut her off before she could say anything else. I hadn’t expected her to agree, which was half the reason we were doing all this in the first place, but more than that I didn’t want her to agree. Now, of all times, I didn’t want her cheerful and compliant; I wanted her to struggle, to fight against me, to kick her legs and do her best to dig her tiny little teeth into my skin.
I wanted her to do all of that… and have it serve absolutely no purpose other than to make her tired. I had already decided that today I was going to drive into her just how pathetic and helpless she truly was.
Ignoring her continued protests, I grabbed her legs with my free hand and easily forced them open as I lowered Miranda’s body into the bowl. The others had made their way out of ice cream, mostly, and were at one of the edges of the bowl, trying frantically to climb out, though they froze in place at my movements. I pretended not to see them as I aimed for the top of the ice cream mountain.
Lowering Miranda just below where I planned to take my first ‘spoonful’, I closed her legs around the area, cutting through it and leaving a lump balanced on her thighs. Lifting her to head height, I bent Miranda’s legs forward so that lump fell onto her stomach, and it was only then that I leaned in to eat.
If I was doing all this just to eat ice cream, honestly this whole system would have been far better off replaced by a simple spoon. It was messy, it was inefficient. It took two hands, and a lot more work than it probably should have taken, all for the relatively simple task of getting ice cream from the bowl to my mouth.
Thankfully, though, the ice cream itself was basically the last thing on my mind. Everyone here knew that the ice cream was just a fig leaf over my real intentions, to play with Miranda’s body and humiliate her, and on that metric, this was a stunning success.
Even now, she fought against me, her toned legs struggling frantically against my fingers, her high pitched, desperate cries, the way her entire body jerked each time my grip on her arms shifted even minutely.
Bliss, I thought to myself, as I ran my tongue down the flat plane of her stomach, as each panicked breath pushed it harder against my taste buds for a brief second. Truly, this is bliss.
Ignoring the mess I was making of my own face, I chased the melted ice cream past Miranda’s stomach, lapping her breasts, before heading down to her legs. Here I let go of them, allowing her to kick each of them freely, until I took first one, then the other, into my mouth. Gently biting to hold each in place, I move up from the ankles, past the knees, only to stop half way up her thighs.
And for a moment, the room seemed to freeze as I turned her body to face me, bottom first. We both knew what was about to happen. Miranda tried to stop me, crossing her legs and holding them tight against her body, but it did as much to stop me as the look of terror on her face, or her desperate cries for me to stop, to wait, to talk about this.
Nothing, in other words. It did nothing to stop me.
It was the work of an instant for the tip of my tongue to slither between her legs, to flex and force them open, and to move in on the prize.
In many ways, this was all very similar to what happened after the pizza not too long ago. We never reached this point then, but if I had I would taken my time, tempted and teased her every step of the way. Back then, my biggest priority was to have Miranda enjoy the experience as much, if not more, than I did.
I didn’t want Miranda to remember this experience with a smile. I didn’t want her to think of this as a happy moment. I wanted her to remember it and feel violated.
So this time, instead of waiting, I dug in without hesitation.
At her size, there was only so far I could actually ‘dig in’ of course, nothing more than the very tip of my tongue, but as I did, Miranda jerked so hard in my hands that I worried briefly for her back, making a sound of hungry, desperate pleasure that only belonged in cheap porn. Her legs, which had been rather ineffectively kicking at me before now, suddenly switched to trying to keep my head in place, and at the core of her, I felt tiny, tiny little muscles try and fail to hold my tongue as it turned and twisted within her.
I gave it another second before withdrawing, to another guttural cry, and instead of saying anything I smacked my lips thoughtfully and lowered her back into the bowl.
This time I had to straighten out her limp legs, but the actual experience made getting my next ‘scoop’ easier than the first had been.
I lifted her to my face and observed her for a moment, the way she panted and the flush on her face. As she opened her mouth, I tilted her, steeper this time, so that the lump of ice cream rolled until it stopped flat against her breasts, and I took it all, breasts and dessert alike, into my mouth at once.
The noises Miranda made this time, as I played with her breasts, were short and desperate. I bounced them on my tongue, I pressed them back against her body and hummed happily to myself at the begging natures of the sounds Miranda made in response, before removing them from my mouth with a wet sounding pop as I went down for my third bite.
It was only then that I noticed that the other two were in trouble. It had probably been several minutes at this point, and Amber and Mia were visibly slowing down from the cold. Worse yet, they were trapped before one of the melting flows that came from the main pile of confection, and it wouldn’t be long before they were buried in it.
The real irony of it all though, is that while I noticed, Miranda didn’t. She didn’t fight me I lowered her back into the bowl, and she scissored me some of the now rapidly melting ice cream almost without my hand even moving, never noticing that her friends were trapped inside the blob now resting on her body. It was only as I lifted her to my mouth, choosing to eat directly off her legs this time, that she startled, head jolting down suddenly as she presumably felt something move against her skin.
Then I slurped the lump, passengers and all, into my mouth.
Miranda had stopped talking after the first scoop, so it was honestly a bit surprising to hear her voice again so fast. I had thought it would have taken her longer to catch her breath.
“Ian, where are they?”
Carefully, I pressed the two wiggling shapes in my mouth against my cheek with my tongue as swallowed down some of the mixed spit and ice cream slurry.
“Where are they, Ian?! Where are Amber and Mia?!”
Releasing them, I let the now limp forms settle onto my tongue and felt a brief urge to keep moving them around, tasting them, toying with them. Instead, I answered Miranda, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue just enough for her to see.
I couldn’t see how they looked, of course, but I could imagine. While they weren’t buried in ice cream any more, between what was left of it and my saliva, I doubted they could move much, and though the brief stint in my mouth had likely warmed them enough to get them out of the danger zone, I could still feel the two of them shivering.
There was a scream I ignored as I brought them back into my mouth, trying to suck the worst of the mess off of them. A moment of an almost absent adjustment brought some quiet as I covered Miranda’s mouth again, and brought my newly freed hand to my face as I spat out my two prisoners.
Licking my lips, I brought them up to eye level to examine them closer. They were soaked, of course, hair clinging to their faces and bodies and gasping for breath, but they seemed to have come out of the experience intact. Neither of them could stand, though; Amber tried, briefly, to raise her arm, but the sheer weight and stickiness of my drool seemed to overwhelm her and she gave up to lay back helplessly against my palm.
I considered pushing a little further, maybe saying a line about how good they tasted, but I think I done enough at this point. I gave them a moment before bringing Miranda up enough to see their pathetic state, then closed my hand around the pair.
They wouldn’t like it, but the warmth of my hand would probably do more to help them shake off the effect of the cold than a hot shower would.
I gave it a minute or two before I spoke up.
From the corner she had tried to hide herself in, my newest Min straightened up.
“Come here and keep an eye on Miranda for me, I’ll be back soon enough. Don’t let her do anything stupid, hold her down if you have to.”
She made a face at that, presumably at how rapidly things I had changed things up with what I wanted from her and what I would punish her for, but gamely walked towards me as I set Miranda down on the table.
Still with my hand closed, I got up and headed to the sink, briskly rinsing off my free hand and drying it on a towel before heading back to the Min House.
Quietly, I began to pick up each piece of furniture I had removed before and placed it in back into the house. It wasn’t the exact location I had taken them all from, but the end result was still a cleary livable home once more, instead of an empty space defined only by the walls. It was only then, once I was satisfied with the arrangement, that I opened up my hand on the sodden heap I was holding.
Compared to the last time I saw them, they seemed somewhat more energetic, but something inside Amber and Mia seemed broken by what they had experienced.
We regarded each other, and I felt compelled to break the silence.
“…I won’t say sorry. I used you just as I have always planned to, and I never made a secret that’s what you were for. But I will admit I went too far, and I do regret that.”
I gave them some time to speak up, but when they did nothing more than stare at me blankly, I kept talking.
“I put you in real danger, and I regret that. And even if it’s not for the reasons you would have wanted, that emotion is real. But, as a form of apology, I will tell you two a secret.”
I leaned in slightly, ignoring the way they cringed at my approach, and spoke in just over a whisper.
“Soon enough, I won’t need you two anymore.” A look of horror crossed their faces, and I rushed to correct myself. “Not for something like this, anyways.”
They relaxed, slightly, at that and I continued. “My main point, the threat, is made. I don’t think I’ll have to prove my willingness anymore, which means that as long as you are here, and alive, it stands with absolutely zero effort on my part. And I’ll admit, part of the problem I had just now is that I enjoyed playing with you too much to want to stop.”
I shrugged a bit and smirked. “Thankfully, there are other ways for me to get that kind of fun. More expendable ways than the two of you. For now, suffice to say that you two have well and truly earned your place here. I don’t expect to see either of you for the rest of the night. Or the morning, even.”
I gave them a moment to digest that, before settling them gently back into their home. “Take a bath, or a shower, and clean yourselves up. Get some rest, enjoy whatever food is left in there.”
I closed the House back up, locked it, and returned to the table to see Sydney standing over Miranda, looking visibly unsure if she should be doing something, or running full tilt in the opposite direction. I settled that matter for her by plucking her off the table top as I headed back to my chair.
Miranda meanwhile, was curled in on herself, arms hugging her knees and head bowed. Calmly, I dipped Sydney’s butt into the bowl and at her startled squeal Miranda straighten up to look at me.
I licked the sweet liquid off the squirming Sydney before I spoke up.
“They almost died in there, you know. It was collapsing on them. If I hadn’t pulled them out it would have buried them, and I don’t think they could have managed to dig their way out. Drowning in ice cream, huh? What a way to go.”
I was fully prepared to keep going, but apparently that was enough for Miranda to reach the breaking point.
“What was the point of this, Ian?!” She screamed, banging her fist against the wood. “Why are telling me this, why are you doing this to me?!”
My fist hit the table so hard that it shook.
“BECAUSE YOU NEEDED THIS TO HAPPEN!” I shouted back.
There was a pause. “What?” Miranda said weakly.
I leaned towards her, settling my hands on the table only to be thwarted by the Min I was still holding onto. I stared at Sydney blankly before dropping her into the bowl.
“Stay.” I told her firmly, before turning back into Miranda.
“I honestly wonder sometimes… do you even realize your situation? You’re afraid of me, yes, and I’ll admit I’ve encouraged that to some extent, but the way you act around me… it feels like you think I did this to you. That I walked up to you on the street, Min’d you, and took you home. I didn’t do this to you. You Min’d all by yourself. I didn’t abandon you at the Kennel. I didn’t leave you there, for months, without any contact. Your friends did. Your family did. Your boyfriend did. I have done nothing to you, Miranda, nothing that has happened to you is my fault.”
I slammed my fist down again. “Do you know what I did do, though? I rescued you. I treated you like a person. I gave you food, and clothes, and respect, when you had none, and you spat all over that because of the simple fact that I enjoyed all of this. Do you realize what you have, Miranda? You have nothing.”
I gestured angrily at the house. “All these things you enjoy? All of it, the clothes, the warmth, the shelter? All of it is mine. ‘Your’ clothes are ‘yours’ in the same way a Barbie owns whatever outfit a child puts on her. You own nothing. You deserve nothing, and I give you these things anyways, yet you treat my attentions as a threat?”
I shifted tacks. “How long would it have taken you, Miranda, to realize that your friends were missing?”
“How long would it have taken you to realize that they had died? And how about this: what if you had seen them, down in that bowl, Miranda? What would you have done?”
Silently, she began to cry. In response I reached out and pinned her down to the table.
“Nothing.” I snarled. “You would have done nothing, but begged and cried, because you are nothing, Miranda. You are a Min, just like the rest of them. You would have done all that and done nothing, changed nothing, and they would have died the same way they would have if you had never noticed them at all. You an animal too helpless to take care of herself, and one that the government is just guilty enough to refuse to put down.”
I held out my empty hand in front of her. “Image, for a moment, that the two of them were here, right now.”
I closed my hand, the same way I often did when I transported Mia and Amber, and began to squeeze.
“Stop me, Miranda.”
She cried harder.
“Stop me, Miranda, or else they die.”
I gave it a little longer, then opened my hand as if I was dropping something.
“Oops. I guess they’re dead now. That was a surprising amount of blood for how small they were, wasn’t it?”
I clenched my fist so hard that my knuckled popped.
“You have the gall to treat me as, what? Some unwanted thug trying to corner you on the streets, when I am the one that gives you everything.”
And just like that, I snapped.
Lunging forward, I grabbed her, and dragged her towards my body. Thoughtlessly, madly, I caught her, held her, seized whatever I touched, frantically changing my grip to hold down anything that moved to the soundtrack of her screams.
It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t desire. It was some emotion I couldn’t name, a bizarre possessiveness that was almost closer to hunger than anything, a mad desire that emerged from an empty, endlessly wanting place in myself I hadn’t realized existed before this moment.
There was no thought to it, no logic. I simply wanted in a way that echoed to my core.
It lasted for… two minutes? Three? Maybe even four. I’m not sure, but when I came back to myself, I found Miranda squeezed tight against my chest, face down, locked in place by my crossed arms, while my hands held her butt and head in a firm grip. Between t hatand the way I had curled over her, almost no part of her was left uncovered by my body, like a snake coiling around its prey.
I realized suddenly, in a blinding moment of transcendent understanding, that if Miranda had been smaller, I may have simply dropped her into my mouth just to trap her more firmly, to bring her even closer to me.
I may have even swallowed.
I didn’t actually mean to stop here when I started, but I reached this point and it somehow seemed like a great place to stop to me?
You know, as I was writing this all out, I was reminded of something I had read a long time ago. It said that, while a dom acts like everything is easy and effortless to their subs, or that they’re being careless and they don’t care if the sub gets hurt or not, they actually need to put a lot of work in the background to make everything goes perfectly. It just occurred to me that the way Ian messes with Miranda sometimes has a similar energy to it.
Also… for a fetish story on a fetish forum that is basically about reducing a woman to sexual slavery, there is surprisingly little focus on the sex. Or sex at all, even.
I sighed happily.
“You know what?” I asked rhetorically. “I’m feeling better now.”
And I really was; it seemed like that fit had worked off the last of my frustrations. With a clearer head, I considered Miranda, still trapped in my grip.
Carefully, I began to untangle her from my arms, still keeping my grip in place. “I think we’re about done here. I proved my point, I vented. I’m about ready to go to bed…”
I trailed off as I considered Miranda, neck and lower back in one hand, her head covered by my fingers, and ass resting in the palm of the other. She was free to move, for the most part, but either what I had done to her in my fit, or the way I was holding her head, had stopped her from doing anything more than tremble slightly in my grasp.
“But we need one last talk before then.” I finished.
She flinched at that, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret her fear.
“I want to make something clear, MIranda. This, what happened here, isn’t going to be your normal standard of behavior. You angered me, and I punished you, and that got mixed with my general… frustrations with how things are going.”
Gently, I brushed at her hair with my thumb, but she only shook again at my touch.
“As a pet, I’m taking away choices from you, yes. I’ll use you, of course. At the same time, though, is with less focus on letting you do things yourself, I can do more for you. Take care of you, spoil you, even.”
Quietly, I lowered my head and exhaled onto her exposed skin. She shuddered and arched in my hands, and I realized that her nipples were hard, that they had been the entire time.
“We both know, Miranda, that there’s more I could have been doing for you, to you, from the start. But I didn’t, because I was waiting for you. Waiting for you to want them…”
I exhaled again, slowly, from the tips of her breasts down to her legs, and she moaned almost inaudibly.
“Or maybe you were just too afraid to ask.” I continued. “Maybe because you were afraid of me, maybe you were afraid of giving up control to me, voluntarily, when you already have so little, and worried about not getting it back. I’m not going to go beyond this, tonight, but I want you to think about something: you being a pet? This is a temporary situation. In a week or two, maybe, I’d be willing to go back to the way things were before, give things another shot. Not force you to fight for things, allow you choices in being picked up or not, and so on. But.”
I stopped, and this time dropped the smallest bit of spit I could onto her breasts, before I breathed on them once more. This time, she moaned louder, lewder, even as she visibly fought against the impulse.
“Aren’t you even just a little bit curious?” I asked, whispered really, into her ear.
“What?” She said, so startled by my question that she responded on instinct.
“Aren’t you even just a little bit curious how it would feel?” I had leaned in even more as I spoke, whispering so quietly it barely shook her hair even with how close I was now.
“To give into me, to surrender? You’re fighting me so much, Miranda. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you tired of fighting so hard to act like something your not? Doesn’t it sound nice to just… close your eyes, and let me take care of everything for you? To protect you from the world? To spoil you? Don’t you want to all the pleasures you haven’t been allowing yourself to indulge in, all this time? I know you’re afraid of me… but in your heart of hearts, did you ever think I’d really mistreat you?”
I let her consider it for a moment, watched her tremble, her head shaking back and forth in frantic denial under my grip, before I moved in for the kill.
“You’re not stupid, Miranda. I’m sure you could act like a well behaved, if down on her luck, person, and in that week or so we could try it all again. We can pretend that you aren’t a squeaking little thing that I keep in my house, if you wanted. But that’s what I want you to think about.”
I moved so my mouth was less than an inch from the tiny, delicate construction of her ear, and when I spoke I could only barely hear my own words.
“Will you want to go back to that?”
I wanted to keep going, to push harder, but I had done that plenty today. It was better, now, for her to think about what I said on her own. Instead, I got up gently, even as I lowered my hand down her back so she could see again.
“Don’t worry, Miranda.” I said reassuringly as she startled again at my movement. “I’m just taking you to the bathroom. I imagine you want to clean up?”
After a second she nodded, almost reluctantly, and I smiled warmly.
“I thought so. I’ll just let you take care of yourself now, alright? We can talk more in the morning.”
I didn’t get much of a response from her, but by the time we reached the bathroom and I flicked the lights on, her gaze had gone from terror filled to bewildered and wary. Gently, I lowered her to the tiled floor, and walked away without another word.
When I returned to the table, I found Sydney, obediently staying where she was told and kneeling in the remains of the ice cream. I nodded in approval before picking the entire bowl up and carrying it into the kitchen, noting absently how she fell onto her side in the process, further coating her body in the dessert.
Setting it on a counter for a moment, I started the water to warm in the sink before plucking the Min from where she lay. Absently, I considered her as I rinsed out the worst from the bowl, placing it into the dishwasher.
“You’re good at listening.” I told her, while my free hand checked the water temperature.
Sydney flinched, slightly, before realizing that it was a compliment.
“Thank you, Master.” She said softly.
“You’d do well to keep at it; keep your head down and do what you’re told.” I advised, turning my full attention to her.
“You may have noticed that things are a bit unstable here at the moment. Play your cards right, Sydney, and you might find yourself in a much better place than where you started. Do you understand me?”
She nodded hesitantly. “I understand, Master.”
I smiled and lowered the pressure. “Good girl. Now hold your breath.”
I waited a beat, then brought her into the flow of water, allowing it to rinse the worst of the stains from her before pulling her out.
I looked her over briefly, checking for any areas that were still glaring dirty, before stopping and examining her again, slowly. It was something I had known before, of course, but dripping in water, with the way her gasping breaths jiggled her chest, I was forced to admit…
“Damn,” I said feelingly. “You really are something, aren’t you?”
I had been planning to clean her off just enough to keep the house from being a mess, but instead I found myself licking my lips as I trailied a finger up her leg.
Miranda, I knew, would have jerked away from my touch, at least if she had seen it coming. Sydney, however, moved into it, and without a shred of reluctance.
There was fear in her eyes, of course, but there had always been fear in her, and it didn’t stop the way she moved to stay in contact with me, even as my finger pulled away, or the silent gasp that I saw more than heard.
“You’re ready to be a good pet, aren’t you?” I stated more than asked, returning the finger to circle the small of her back, and she shuddered in my hand.
“Y-yes, Master,” Sydney gasped. “Please, Master. Whatever you want. Wha-whatever you want, Master, I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.”
I wasn’t sure if she was overacting, or if Miranda was just that good at hiding how much she felt at my touch, but either way this responsiveness was a nice change of pace. Slowly, I dragged my fingertip up her back, gently applying pressure between her shoulder blades for an instant, before I moved it to her neck, and the collar she still wore on it.
Before she could react, it released and fell into my hand, and Sydney gave a sound of relief that had to be as much physical as it was psychological; they weren’t actually meant to be worn all the time, after all, just as a tool for identification when leaving the home. There was a red ring around her throat already where it had begun to chafe.
I locked the ends together and tossed it lightly in my palm a few times, before losing interest and placing the collar into my pocket.
One of my many preparations for Miranda included a bottle of Min-friendly body wash at the sink for just such an occasion. There was a strange irony to the fact I was doing this for someone else, but I had reached at point where I didn’t care: here, at least, a woman lay in my hand, naked, and if she was not eager than she was still willing. Sydney looked up at me with wide eyes, legs spread and almost seeming to pose in my grasp as I squirted out a dab of soap on my index finger.
“My good pet.” I commanded.
“Yours.” she begged.
Sensitivity or not, there was no way she wanted me, the man who had nearly ripped her arm off not so long ago, in any genuine fashion. She still flinched every time she saw me, cringed at my every move. Even if she was into that kind of treatment, it wouldn’t explain such a quick turnaround.
This was clearly nothing more than a desperate attempt to protect herself with only asset she had available to her, to try and buy herself favorable treatment with her body.
But that was the thing about Mins, wasn’t it? The feelings didn’t have to be real, just the obedience. Devotion would come in time, after all, with Stockholm Syndrome and Giant’s Allure, and even if it didn’t, even if it continued to be nothing more than an act…
What did it matter? I didn’t care about her feelings, I just wanted her body and her willingness. There was no way for her to betray me, or harm me, or steal from me, like a traditional gold digger could; I owned her. What else could Sydney do but continue to play along, if only for her own safety?
I grinned the shark’s grin, and for a moment she froze, facade breaking at what she saw in it.
Once again, Sydney had made a choice without fully understanding the situation. Once again, I didn’t care to correct her mistake.
As I rubbed my fingers and thumb together, spreading out the soap, her expression return to ‘lustful’, and she cooed appreciative as I began to slowly massage it onto her stomach, twisting and turning in my hand with every indication of delight. Still, the act grated on me, and before too long I cut in.
“Enough.” I told her finally. She stared at me with genuine confusion, so I elaborated. “The act. I know you’re putting on a show, and I-”
“No!” Sydney yelled in sudden terror. Then she winced as she realized she had interrupted me, before she kept protesting anyways. “Master! I, I wouldn’t dare to… I mean, I…”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. Oh, physically you may be enjoying it to some extent…”
I ran my finger over the stiffened tips of her breasts, before dragging it between her legs, ignoring the way she yelped and squirmed at my suddenly rough treatment. Pinching the liquid now coating it between my fingers, I showed Sydney how it stuck to my skin as she blushed violently.
“And that’s good and all, but you make it sound like you’re going to cum, here and now, and we haven’t even started the heavy petting. I know you think I’m a madman, but do me the common courtesy to stop pretending I’m stupid as well. I’m using you for my own reasons, you’re letting me use you for yours. I’m not here to make you feel good, Sydney, I’m here to get my own pleasure from using you.”
Pushing my finger onto her mouth, I held it there until she gave in to my unspoken demand and began to lap at her own fluids meekly. As I felt the tiny little muscle’s touch against my fingertip, I smiled.
“Just like that. Good girl. You’re nothing more than my toy, Sydney, and you’ll never be anything more than that. Don’t act otherwise. Don’t get airs about your own importance. You can call me Master all you want, and fawn over my every word, begging for attention you’re too afraid to enjoy; we both know you’ll mean it soon enough, even if it’s just an act at the moment. But there’s no point in you trying to fluff up my ego. You can have as dramatic an ‘orgasm’ as you want, Sydney, and you’ll still be in the exact same place as you’d be if you didn’t go through the bother: here. Being held in my hands, being touched and toyed with as I please, and unable to do anything about it.”
I tightened my grip on her slightly, and brought my other finger up, rubbing it over her face, coating her face in her own drippings.
“And if you like it? If it makes you feel valued? Safe? Wanted? Good for you. If you feel violated? Used? Worthless? Too bad: that’s your problem, not mine. Your opinions, Sydney, are just as worthless as your attempts to resist me. Your only value lies in your body, and your ability to do as you are told. Clear?”
At some point during all this her flush had grown and spread until her shoulders and the tops of her breasts were all scarlet red. Sydney looked at me, panting slightly, face still smeared with her own lubricant, and let out a breathy sigh that sounded more genuine than every sound she’d made thus far.
“Of course, Master.”
As an interesting note, I’ll admit I took the ‘aren’t you even just a little bit curious’ line from a dark comedy video I found on youtube, and I kind of wrote this to the classic Lavender Town theme.
As one of those lore-y side notes, Giant’s Allure isn’t something I think will be naturally explained, so I’ll just spell it out. There’s studies out there that say that taller people get paid X amount more than people of average height, right? Giant’s Allure refers to something past that, past the point where the pay gap stops (I… think that’s a thing? If you’re tall enough that stops being a thing? Don’t quote me obviously), to where one person is so much larger than the other that it humbles the smaller person, makes them meek and subordinate.
It’s a theoretically sweet spot, basically, about how big someone has to be to command someone smaller, as well as a theory to help explain how oddly obedient Mins are to normal sized people, and how easy they seem to fall in love/worship to them, though there’s significant academic conflict if there’s just something biologically different in them, or maybe both. Because of her ‘great’ size, BTW, Sydney is actually of some non-insignificant interest to those who want to try and test to find that point. They hope they can place her in front of a child and find a point where the magic obedience charisma stops working, though for obvious reasons there’s so many other things happening that it never goes anywhere.