though tbh smothering/gagging is most fun when potential rescue is nearby. A villain talking to detectives canvassing the neighborhood for information on a missing person. He feigns concern and ignorance while simultaneously playing with her in his pocket. Fabric and fingers confining all those yells into little inaudible squeaks. The booming voices of everyone else serving as a gigantic taunt and reminder of just how close and yet how far she is from being saved.
That’s the only “Miss” involved in the equation as that beam of smallmaking energy strikes with pinpoint precision before you’re even halfway done your first sentence. Would be the easiest debate class ever, as even the most passionately said and most logical of arguments can be smothered out with a finger wrestling that freshly shrunken body and replacing words with sounds of struggle.
No deception needed. This ain’t debate class. Just a fast trigger finger on a shrink ray. 
I can’t read it either. Someone’s just gonna have to shrink you so you’re able to get in for a closer look.
I guess in a way, I’ve always had size thoughts and never thought anything of it, just like how someone who has mild color-blindness doesn’t catch on right away and assumes that’s just the way the world looks. I really liked my parents but I always thought that the other adults in my life were needlessly overbearing and mean and strict. When I was in preschool, they made us take an afternoon nap and I was content with just lying there awake because I didn’t want to miss out on anything and didn’t feel tired. But these crazy fascist teachers would be checking each of us and scolding me for having my eyes open. That’s when I had an idea - how cool it would be to be about 50 feet tall and capable of grabbing each of these people and putting them in my pocket. The only things I would gain out of it would be the freedom to do what I wanted and some goddamn peace and quiet during nap time without any stern and matronly old windbags pointing down at me and shaming me for being awake. It was later on that I gradually realized that applying sizey imaginary solutions to every obstacle and annoyance in my life was uncommon and probably borderline maladaptive, so I put it to rest and tried not to think about it too much only for it to come back into the fold like a wrecking ball once puberty unfolded just like everyone else here.
Anyone who wants a harem to manage is up the goddamn river. That’s gonna be so much work. Just one little bitch is enough to occupy all my attention and patience.
That goddamn toque is never gonna smell right again.
@smolchlo No, what you’re supposed to do is have the vader mask taped to the tip of his cock and then you cackle and grimace and do your best Palpatine impression. Then when he gets an erection, with a gutteral voice and with electricity shooting out of your fingers you command “Rise, Lord Vader!”
Would exceed the character limit for a post on this forum if I were to elaborate every method of punishment for tinies that I enjoy the idea of doling out. I’ll just speak on the utility of unpredictability. Just being an utter bastard and never attaining any consistency with how misbehaviors (whether real or drummed up) are dealt with. Every now and then just letting something slide - substituting a spanking with a rubber band with a soft and sensual massage with a warm wet hand towel. Or doing the opposite and reneging on a promise of a reward after she’s done everything I’ve asked for correctly. Even though I’ve ‘won’ in every conceivable way and can get anything I want merely by asking or taking with minimal effort, it’s just trashy in the most fun way to not be above lying and deceiving and gaslighting regardless. Blurring the lines between punishment and reward and providing constant motivation for her to keep on deep down being that same old brat who refuses to be domesticated completely and will never stop challenging my ownership of her.
bro I just like to imagine scenarios of size mixed with nonconsent because I’m good at it and I like it. This discovery didn’t happen in a vacuum or was something I knew about myself right away - I found this out by trying it out. This could only could happen with the love, encouragement, patience, and curiosity of those around me. Dwelling on bad feelings like rejection and loss just bums me out and makes me not care about creating anything.
@sloppy_amy said in Tea Time:
Haha how long do you let her steep?
It’s subjective, sort of like cooking pasta.
so until she sticks to the wall when you toss her?
Owen was no stranger to wet dreams. The ones he was used to were always so busy, noisy, and overly complicated. One of his most notable ones was a dream where he was the ringleader on a bank heist, and in order for the heist to work he had to disable the security system on the roof. Only, the security system on the roof was one of his old bosses who he had a crush on, and the only way to disable her was to deposit a load of ejaculate across her tits. This task was made all the more complicated by the fact that she was reading out the weather report with her mouth. He was just barely able to finish that time, waking up on that particular morning with a mess in his pants and the radio next to his bed blaring.
This wet dream was completely different from that.
For starters, this one wasn’t some sort of biophysical reaction to him abstaining from sex and masturbation for long periods of time, like the others. Being in the service industry, Thursdays were basically his Mondays. He’d be too tired and burnt out and busy over the weekend for much fun and relaxation, so took advantage of those last few hours alone during the previous night to for a slow, sensual and, rigorous session that had him opening up nearly a dozen tabs on his browser and later feeling that extraordinary level of shame and disgust that appears when closing that many tabs and throwing out that much tissue paper.
There was no complex plot or cameo appearances from random figures in his life or low-level celebrities. There was no sense of urgency to finish up as soon as possible for the sake of some convoluted goal. The dream was as simple as can be. It was just him, alone in his apartment, lying back and being serviced by a little bitch at his cock. He wasn’t bothered by the pile of unanswered questions. There was no indication of when this dream started. There was no logic to why this little tiny anonymous figure was suddenly devoted to servicing him like this.
Sure, fantasies of tiny women and all the things that could be done with them were not uncommon and something that Owen occasionally humored, but there wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t have just been full-sized and doing all the same things. He’d occasionally delved into what little porn existed of different-sized relationships, but it was more of a curiosity than a priority. There was no sense of immersion to it as the tinies were always handled as if they were made of glass, under the constant threat of litigation and punishment for mistreating shrunken actors and actresses. It was always an unreachable and unaffordable fantasy for many, especially for him. He had pride in the little place on earth he had managed to cultivate through his hard work, this sparse studio apartment, but knew and accepted that it would be many years of grinding or luck beyond measure that would enable him to have nice things.
It was all the more reason for him to just slow down and try to savor this as much as possible. He stopped trying to analyze the situation and just closed his eyes in an attempt to concentrate as much on the sensations as possible. Each footstep, grab, squeeze, lick, and nibble was magnified. He inadvertently explored the curves of that compressed little body as they were pushed into and rubbed up and down his hard and sensitive shaft. There was a magical unpredictability in those movements of hers as she alternated between using those hands, legs, and mouth to tickle, tease, and bring upon his impending orgasm. As much as he wanted this moment to last forever, there was no slowing down or stopping the inevitable. Despite only being a few inches tall, the pure enthusiasm with which she threw herself into this task was beyond his powers of resistance.
A peace came over Owen as he felt her wiggling and climbing her way up to the tip of his cock. The feelings that come with dreams were always transitory for him. No matter how deep or meaningful or exciting they were, all memory and meaning would eventually slip away. As he could feel that tongue of hers happily lapping up his precum and those hands secure their grip on him, that dread of it all fading away was absent. He knew he would always own this moment. No one could take it away from him. In the moment before he could feel himself erupt in an orgasmic finish, there was even the undeniable and strong feeling that he would always own her.
He didn’t need to be told that the dream was over as he finally came. A full-body orgasm, something he’d only achieved a few times before with a partner and never by himself, overtook him as he remained still and basked in the feeling. After a few seconds of feeling his cock empty and deflate, he turned his head over to the side and gazed at the time on his alarm clock. In a feat of amazing timing, it was 8:59, one minute before he was set to wake up.
He reached over his alarm clock and grabbed his phone, which he had purposefully left just on the other side of the alarm clock just before he went to bed. He had things set up to where the alarm clock would start up and turn on the morning radio, while his phone would play the standard alarm sound. The combination of both noises was tough to ignore and override in a deep sleep. As he turned on his phone screen to deactivate the alarm within it, the amount of notifications took him by surprise.
There were 15 missed calls, and an uncountable number of messages that had popped up. Among them, he could see one from his current boss that read “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” and another that said “WE NEED TO TALK. DON’T IGNORE ME!”
9:00 struck, and the radio came to life.
“Today’s going to be a big Friday! We’re going to be giving $500 to one of our lucky listeners within the next hour. But first, here’s the 9 o’clock news and weather…” The radio DJ trailed on.
“What the fuck?” Owen exclaimed out loud.
It would have been appropriate for this reaction to have been elicited by having apparently slept entirely through all of Thursday, but his attention was drawn elsewhere in that moment as he dropped his phone and looked down across his body at Sadie. She wasn’t the only one who just realized that the events that had transpired so far this morning weren’t merely a dream.
