Honestly? For awhile, at least, I’d install myself as a evil thing to appease/protector/patron god, get a system set up where tithes (including, of course, women) are sent to me on a regular basis, my basic needs are met (a home of some sort, furniture, whatever food I’d need, if I needed food) and just… chill. Have fun with shit; have the women read to me, dance for me, whatever.

Stomp an enemy army if it rolls around, have fun toying with any knights that get ideas, tame a dragon or something…

I’m pretty low key, and actually ruling something sounds like a pain in the ass. As long as I get mine, I’d be good.

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.

If I had to choose one size, it’d be… somewhere between three to six inches, ish. Small enough that they can’t really interact with anything, while big enough to interact with.

That said, what I like can depend on my mood, the day, and what I’m looking for; there’s a certain level of cuddle based softness that can only come when you aren’t in danger of accidentally obliterating your partner by existing, but there’s plenty of times I want that to be the case, or to be a landscape for them to be trapped on. Hell, even a proper half sized has its perks, with a SW struggling to live a normal life, and often failing…

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.

I like bondage, vore, and… I guess I would call it ‘depersonalization’? I’m not sure what the word for it is, because there’s probably a word for it.

Bondage is fun, because you can wrap a woman up like a present, helpless and exposed, and the way things can dig into exciting places is all sorts of fun.

Vore, to me, is… something like a primal display of power, I guess. (Also, I like eating, so there’s that.) Eating something is a proof of superiority over them, to me. The fact that the tongue is innate considered sexual for so many things is also a factor; it adds an edge of uncertainty for those involved. Are they going to be ‘eaten’? Or eaten?

As for the last, it’s something I generally only see in giantess stories, but obviously still want in SW contexts; the idea of the sheer irrelevance of the tiny. Like, if you walk down the street, and step on a tiny? No one cares. If you pick one up, take them home, and do whatever? No one cares. If you just scoop up your girlfriend of several years, dip her in some sauce, and dump her in your mouth? Well, she was a tiny. Crush, in general, seems to be a part of this, for me, but only as part; I like the casualness of the crush, and not the entire setting of the foot and such, per say.

As a community, I notice we seem to treasure the smalls more than the other end of the spectrum… and don’t get me wrong, I get that. In a more realistic setting, I wouldn’t do a lot of the shit I like. But as fantasy…

Also, begging. Begging is fun.

has put stupid amounts of time into this line of thought

For me, the ideal SW dollhouse is designed around the comfort of the woman inside… but the ease of access of the man who owns it.

It has all the amenities: water, lights, a bed that’s actully fabric and not plastic, but… there’s no doors, anywhere. There are window, but they don’t open, and are made of tough plastic or whatnot that can’t be broken by such little hands. Once you’re inside the dollhouse, you don’t get to leave without the owner’s permission.

At least one wall, if not the whole thing, is effectively a one way mirror (…somehow), allowing the woman(or women) inside the illusion of privacy, that all they have to do is dodge the windows and the skylight and whatnot and they will be hidden… when they really, really aren’t.

And, of course, the fact it opens: the entire thing is designed with a removable roof and with each wall being on a hinge, to allow for those outside it to easier reach those within.

“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.

…Huh. Well, I’ll be honest, I’m probably not a part of the ‘larger’ (pardon the pun) size community; honestly I haven’t even really RPed before. Mostly I just hang around in a few forums and look for pictures. That said, I can agree/confirm a few things:

While my talents don’t lie with pictures, which seem easier to spread around, I’ve honestly never seen a negative review on basically any piece of size art I’ve ever seen, ever, mine or otherwise.

People around this kind of place do seem to be nice and welcoming right out of the gate, which is super nice, and I can say this as a (probably) severely depressed person.

On the negative end, as part of the not part of the wider community thing, I’ve heard stories of toxic giantess stuff (hell, I remember seeing a picture with ‘fetish problems requiring fetish solutions’ as a caption as a giant footsteps on a city of people arguing that they want to be the tinies), but I’ve never experienced it personally, not having gone to those places.

There’s also the fact that, on the more SW/Giant end of the scale, it just seems that we have a harder time finding/keeping people, compared to what I’ve seen with GTS/SM. I was on the Minimizer’s forum when it was still around, and it’s sad to realize that a lot of people from there are just… gone. Either flat out not there or they just don’t talk much anymore.

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.

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.

“Oh?” I mused.

Miranda was right, it was an obvious idea, now that she pointed it out to me: I had grown used to considering the Mins in my house as things I shouldn’t touch, but in the first place, that line of thought was abnormal. Beyond that, though, Sydney was loathed by Miranda.

Why would she protect her?

“That…” I began slowly, “Is an interesting point.”

I turned my head to consider the Min in question: I had lifted my arm off of Sydney a few minutes ago, but even though she had had the opportunity, she hadn’t moved, only looking at me with fear filled eyes.

“You know, Miranda, I when I gave Sydney to you, it was with the implicit understanding that she was yours; your toy to play with, or not to play with, at your discretion. I didn’t think about you wanting to share.”

Gently, I rested Miranda back upon my leg, before turning more fully towards Sydney and locking my eyes on her.

“Should I take this to be a more… permanent change?” I asked. “That I can use Sydney whenever I want?”

A look of terror flashed across her face, but the Min didn’t move from her place.

“Or a more temporary arrangement?” I continued. “We’re getting along so well that I wouldn’t want to over reach.”

Miranda laughed. “Is that why? That actually explains a lot, in a weird way.”

She hummed musingly for a moment, considering it. “Honestly? I don’t actually mind you using Sydney, but I think I’d prefer the… what did you call it? The discretion.”

She said the word slowly, as if savoring it. “The choice.”

Miranda laughed again, scooting herself across my thigh to lean her back against my stomach. “I like the idea of you having to ask me for her. But we can talk more about that later, can’t we? Let’s get on with the show.”

I hadn’t dropped eye contact with Sydney the entire time, but now I focused my entire attention on the Min. “You heard the lady: get up, chop chop.”

To her credit, Sydney leapt up from where I had placed her, and though she stumbled a moment after standing, presumably because of how long she had laid there, she managed to stay upright.

“Good.” i said, before twirling my finger in the air. “Now give us a spin.”

Obligingly, Sydney spun in place, her hair rising up into the air for a moment before settling back down as she stopped.

“Again.” I instructed. “And slower. What do you think?”

“You know, you really are beautiful, Sydney.” Miranda commented. “I always hated that about you.”

“Any thoughts on what she should do next?” I asked.

“No, Ian, I want to see what you’ll do to her. Just consider me part of the audience for today.”

“Fair enough.” I clapped my hands twice, and Sydney froze in mid-spin.

“On your knees,” I commanded, and Sydney dropped like I hit her. “Now, crawl to Miranda. Kiss her shoes.”

From her spot on my leg, Sydney peered across the gap that separated the leg she knelt on and the leg Miranda sat on. Even it at her size, it wasn’t that big a leap, something she could have easily crossed… if she was standing. On her hands and knees, it would be more complicated.

Meaningfully, Miranda turned, moving her feet from my leg to rest on the opening of my sweatpants. I flinched at the touch for a second before recovering and she snickered at my discomfort before we both turned back to the other Min, taking in the fresh despair on her face.

“Crawl.” I repeated, as I watched Sydney think about it. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Yes, Master,” She muttered fearfully as her head bobbed up and down. “Whatever you say.”

Turning away, she continued her crawl, towards me now, stopping when she reached my chest. Deliberately, she reached out with a hand and rested it directly on my crotch, looking up as she did so to gauge my reaction to her move. I lifted an eyebrow and she quickly continued forward before sprawling out in front on Miranda, her stomach now laying on my leg, her head upon my slowly hardening penis, and her knees flat on my other leg, raising her ass up into the air.

As she lifted her face to Miranda’s shoes, I interrupted as a thought occurred to me.

“What do you say?”

Sydney glanced up to me questioningly. “You are about to kiss Miranda’s shoes. She is allowing you to kiss her shoes, as a favor, so that you don’t fail me. She doesn’t have to let you, she could just let you be punished, after all. Wouldn’t it be polite to ask her permission first?”

Miranda laughed as Sydney’s head turned back to her before lowing submissively.

“Mistress.” She began. “Would you do your toy the favor, of allowing me the… the honor of kissing your shoe, to… to dirty it with my lips?”

Miranda turned to face Sydney fully and braced herself against my arm, before lifting her leg up into the air as high as she could. It barely rose above Sydney’s head, considering the size difference between the two of them, but it made her point nevertheless.

“What makes you worthy of such an honor,” she asked contemptuously. “What makes you deserving, toy…”

Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her foot until the point of her heel rested on top of Sydney’s head.

“When you deserve to be, not even at my feet, but beneath them?”

Sydney shook in fear and humiliation. “Nothing, Mistress. Nothing. There is nothing that makes me worthy, but I beg you all the same. Please, Mistress, I beg you to allow your humble toy this honor.”

Miranda considered it, and for a moment it seemed like she would let the act stretch on, but, perhaps because she wanted to see where elise I would go with this, she ultimately let her foot fall right before Sydney’s mouth.

“I will allow it, just this once.”

There was a moment of stillness before Sydney lunged forward, all but grinding her mouth against Miranda’s heels in her eagerness. On occasion, she lifted her face slightly and I could see her tongue reach out to lap against the leather before her mouth made contact again. I gave it maybe half a minute before I lightly flicked a finger against her conveniently raised butt.

“Enough.” I ordered over her surprised yelp. “Now, mastrubate. Get yourself off while thanking Miranda for her kindness.”

“What?” Sydney asked, confused, before breaking off into a scream as I raised my hand into the air. I ignored her fear, but the way Miranda froze at my motion made me stop with a sigh.

Just like that, I could feel the mood wither and die.

Instead of grabbing her, as I had planned, I simply rested my fingers on her back and began to tap them against her bare skin.

It was one thing for Sydney to flinch every time I reached towards her, but Miranda doing the same was me actively losing progress with her. Clearly, this wasn’t working; it was time for a new tactic.

Brutal honesty, with Amber and Mia, had built a more solid understanding with them about what I would and wouldn’t do with them, the foundation for a basic level of trust. Perhaps Sydney would do well if I applied similar honesty to her.

“…Alright, Sydney. I think it’s time for us to have a talk of our own. Expand on what Miranda said. Clarify a few things for you.” I said finally.

Miranda’s face settled at my words, tension slowly leaving her body, and Sydney herself nodded warily, calmer than she had been before. A start, if nothing else.

“I feel that you’re… labouring under some misunderstandings. About my motivations, about what your situation is here. Am I correct in thinking that you think I want to hurt you?”

She didn’t say anything, but the look on her face was answer enough.

I sighed again. “Understand this: If I wanted to hurt you, Sydney, to actually hurt you, not just spank you because you have a nice ass or whatever, I would hurt you. Period. I wouldn’t dance around it, I wouldn’t justify with an excuse, you would simply be in pain. But you’re not in pain, because I don’t want to hurt you. Quite simply, I don’t care about you enough to want to hurt you.”

I settled back into my chair. “Miranda was right, before. To me, both you and the others… really aren’t humans, aren’t people. You’re… subhuman, maybe. I understand you are living, thinking beings with emotions and interests, of course, but I don’t care about any of those things, not really. You’re simply not worthy of that consideration. At best, they are a way for me to manage you.”

I paused, remembering the break down not too long ago, before adding, “I feel this should be obvious, but I’ll say it anyways: Miranda, of course, is different. Miranda is special.”

On my leg, she smiled gently at my validation, and I kept going now that I was sure I hadn’t worried her.

“Amber and Mia, to me, are… Miranda’s pets, probably. I care about her, and she cares about them, so by extension I care in a general sense about their needs and welfare, even if I don’t personally think much about them. Because of that status as ‘beloved pets’, they get steady food supplies, a place to sleep, and freedom to run about the house… the kinds of things a dog or cat would have, basically. But you’re different.”

I had continued tapping my fingers the entire time, so Sydney was utterly unprepared for my hand to open and grab her, before lifting her into the air to face me. It was the gentlest I had been in handling her, ever, a fact she clearly noticed by the surprise on her face.

“To me, Sydney, you are an animal. An incredibly attractive, intelligent animal, but an inferior being nevertheless. However, you aren’t a pet, and you don’t have the rights a pet would have. In my mind, I owe you nothing beyond simply not leaving you to starve.”

I paused. “That, however, can be changed.”

As I spoke, I deliberately lifted my other hand into the air, index finger extended, so that everyone could see it. Slowly, I touched Sydney’s leg, and began to run my fingertip up it.

“What you don’t understand is that to me, pain is a tool. You do something I don’t like, so I hurt you. You stop doing it, I stop hurting you. Bad behavior is punished, as simple as that.”

My finger ran up her hip, curled around it, gliding just over the space between her legs for a moment before continuing up to her belly.

“There’s no… resentment involved at all, it’s just like flicking a switch to me: pain on, pain off. At the same time, though, pleasure is also a tool at my disposal. Obedience, you see, should be rewarded just as disobedience is punished.”

My finger crested her breast, brushing against her hardened nipple for a instant, before lowering again.

“And thankfully, with a Min, that is oh so easy. After all, you’re all so very…”

I brought her right next to my mouth as I spoke, my breath heavy against her chest. “…Sensitive.”

Sydney shuddered in my hands, and for the first time it wasn’t from mind numbing terror.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” I whispered to her, “That a Min is nothing more than putty once they’re in someone’s hands.”

She shook again, biting her lip as I gently set her back on my lap, finger now making slow circles on her calf.

“I wasn’t lying, before. I’m sure you didn’t believe me at the time, but I meant it.”

I could see the confusion in her eyes, and I answered her unspoken question: “‘If you want to be happy, you need to keep Miranda happy.’ You’ll find that I’m very literal. I have absolutely no problems keeping you dumb and happy on orgasms and full body massages, as long as she’s fine with it. I’d enjoy it, even; you really are a pretty little thing, after all. Of course, if she wants you unhappy…”

I trailed off meaningfully as I removed my hands, and the aroused blush on her checks faded instantly as my meaning sank in. “I have no problems keeping you writhing in pain, either.”

I shrugged. “Hell, that might even be its own kind of fun for me. Thankfully for you, Miranda doesn’t seem to want that, so you’re probably safe. She wants to prove her superiority, yes, but that doesn’t always have to be a cruel thing. If you accept your inferiority to her, truly accept it instead of playing at it to try and appease her, I imagine your time here will be far more pleasant than it has been.”

I glanced at Miranda, and grinned at the smug smile I saw on her face.

I pinched Sydney’s ass, just hard enough to hurt, then soothingly rubbed the abused area before she could make anything other than a discontent murmur in response. “Pain and pleasure, Sydney, are the two tools I intend to use to train you, to shape you, into exactly what I want you to be: a creature made for Miranda’s enjoyment. The thing is, that pleasure can come in different ways. Defy me, resist the change, and things will be unpleasant for you. Obey me, embrace the changes… and you could find yourself quite the spoiled lap pet.”

By now she was looking up at me, all fear gone, almost mesmerized by my simple kindness. I went in for the kill.

“You think you don’t have a place here, Sydney, but you’re wrong. You have a place; you just need to decide what that place will be. Do you want it to be a place of misery, being trampled under Miranda’s feet for her amusement like the vermin you are? Or a place of joy, sitting in her lap, gratefully accepting her affection and grace like a good pet should?”

---

Are we having fun yet?

…Huh. Well, I’ll be honest, I’m probably not a part of the ‘larger’ (pardon the pun) size community; honestly I haven’t even really RPed before. Mostly I just hang around in a few forums and look for pictures. That said, I can agree/confirm a few things:

While my talents don’t lie with pictures, which seem easier to spread around, I’ve honestly never seen a negative review on basically any piece of size art I’ve ever seen, ever, mine or otherwise.

People around this kind of place do seem to be nice and welcoming right out of the gate, which is super nice, and I can say this as a (probably) severely depressed person.

On the negative end, as part of the not part of the wider community thing, I’ve heard stories of toxic giantess stuff (hell, I remember seeing a picture with ‘fetish problems requiring fetish solutions’ as a caption as a giant footsteps on a city of people arguing that they want to be the tinies), but I’ve never experienced it personally, not having gone to those places.

There’s also the fact that, on the more SW/Giant end of the scale, it just seems that we have a harder time finding/keeping people, compared to what I’ve seen with GTS/SM. I was on the Minimizer’s forum when it was still around, and it’s sad to realize that a lot of people from there are just… gone. Either flat out not there or they just don’t talk much anymore.

Carefully I rested Miranda upon my leg, back supported against my chest, and brushed her hair over her shoulder with a finger. For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of stroking its length, and the body it both concealed and highlighted, before pulling my hand away.

“Wait.” Miranda said suddenly, and I froze.

“You… you can keep doing that, if you want,” she continued, sounding embarrassed and pleased all at once. “Petting me- Petting my hair, I mean.”

And then, softer: “It feels nice.”

It was, of course, an invitation I could not possibly refuse, and I had to take pains to stroke her at the same pace as I had before, rather than anything more enthusiastic, and resist the urge to do anything more than brush at what her hair covered.

For a few enjoyable minutes, I simply relished the feel of Miranda against my finger and body, and the peaceful time we spent together, letting her recover from her outburst from before.

Eventually, though, I spoke up.

“You know,” I mused, “I’m almost insulted.”

On my leg, Miranda’s body tensed up, but as I continued to calmly pet her hair without reacting she slowly relaxed.

“I mean, let’s be honest here. After we’ve come this far, after all this, the fact that you’d think that I’ll just… lose interest in you is frankly ludicrous to me. Our relationship here is founded on our agreement, right?”

I paused, and once she realized I was waiting for a response, Miranda nodded silently.

“I know you’re not stupid, Miranda, I can’t believe you really think that agreement actually means anything. Ignoring how worthless a verbal contract is… the idea of making an agreement with a Min at all is a joke. Assuming we found someone willing to write it out, we could have signed a contract, and if I had taken your friends at the DMC after I had signed the paperwork no one would have so much as blinked. Hell, even if I had ‘sampled the wares’ beforehand I doubt anyone would have cared. So the agreement is complete garbage unless you trust me to keep to its terms without anything to force me to do so. Unless you trust me to treat you like a person.”

I stopped again, trying to gather my words. Somehow Miranda seemed to sense this and remained quiet, simply leaning into my hand as it stroked her rhythmically.

“You could excuse it as a fig leaf justification, I suppose, but even if we did, what was it you said? ‘Kept you in a birdcage to sing’? Even if I had done that much, I’m sure you know better than I would how much of an improvement that would be. Expecting more would be unrealistic at best, and what I promised you would be a fever dream to anyone else. At yet you asked, and I delivered, again and again and again. The adoption itself, the clothes, the Min house… all of them are big, but compared by the authority you keeping reaching for, that I keep giving you, that is nothing. Plenty of rich people spoil their Mins, right? It’s like keeping your dog happy or something: you don’t want to see them miserable, but you wouldn’t let that dog decide to adopt another dog, would you? All that I’ve given you, all that I’ve done for you, and you think that tomorrow I’ll just throw you aside like trash…”

I sighed. “I know you’ve been in a bad place, but it honestly hurts, Miranda.”

There was another pause, this time on Miranda’s end as she considered my words. She didn’t make any motion to stop me, so I was content to sit and wait, petting her until she was ready to say her piece.

“You say that Ian,” she began carefully, “But I still don’t understand what it is you want exactly, from me, from adopting me, from…”

Miranda hesitated briefly. “From this relationship. From us having a relationship at all, as anything more than Master and Min. If you just wanted my body, you’ve had your chance. You’ve had it for days now. If you just wanted me to give it to you willingly, instead of by force, well… I’m sure you could have made that happen as well.”

I sighed. “I keep telling you this, but you never seem to understand.”

I shifted in my seat, bringing Miranda to my chest and wrapping my arms around her, as tightly as I dared.

“I want you, Miranda. All of you. I want to hold you in my arms, I want to see you when I wake up in the morning, and before I go to sleep. I want to watch movies with you, and share meals at the table with you. I us to talk, and share jokes. And while you may be right, in that I want something more physical as well, and I’d be lying if I was tempted to simply take it…”

I trailed off. “I don’t want it by force, or by blackmail. I want it, you, willingly. Truly willingly, not because I’m holding something hostage, or that you’re too afraid to say no. Not just a simple physical relationship, but an intimate one. I want you to be happy, Miranda, and I want you to be happy with me. As happy as me, that the two us are together like this, forever.”

“Y-you, you want alot, Ian.” She was stammering, but it wasn’t from fear, or nervousness.

“I know.” I agreed. “It’s worth all the work I’ve put in, and more.”

“What you’re asking for… that could take a long time to achieve, Ian. Years, maybe.” Miranda continued.

“I’m aware.”

“It may never happen.” She insisted, sounding almost incredulous now. “I could just live here and treat you as an opportunistic bastard until the day I die.”

“Obviously.”

I was still shocked how well we getting along now, actually. Even with everything happening, I had expected her resentment of me to far outweigh whatever benefits she could get from cooperation with me in her mind for quite awhile.

And then she asked me the question again, the same question from the first day, just as confused then as she was now. But this time, there was another emotion present as well, one that she tried, and failed to hide.

“Why?” Miranda sniffled, utterly confused, and yet still filled with hope.

For a brief second I squeezed her tighter. “Do I need a better reason than love?”

And for a second time today, Miranda cried. I said nothing, did nothing, beyond holding her, and letting her tire herself out. Eventually, she stopped and sniffled, trying to regain her composure.

“You know what, Ian?” She asked me eventually.

“What?”

“There’s something you forgot.” Miranda said, sounding suddenly mischievous. “And I’ve been wondering if I should bring it up.”

“There is?”

I couldn’t think of anything, but Miranda simply giggled a little at the confusion in my voice.

“I don’t want you to touch Amber or Mia. I’m not ready for you do anything with me than this, not yet anyways.”

I froze at that, and she laughed again.

“But not once have I said that Sydney is afforded the same protection. In fact, I think I would quite like to see you have some fun with her.”

I could almost see the grin grow on her face. “Tell you what, Ian: why don’t I lend her to you for the night?”

---

You know, I was planning on getting somewhere juicy, but these two kept emoting over all my plans. Shorter than I’d like, Shorter than I’d like, but I decided I wanted to keep this fluffy, instead of mixing it with anything else. Next chapter, I guess.

And yes, Amber is still there, and is feeling very awkward about that fact. Ian simply isn’t bothering to think about her existence.

This is a story set in another story that I haven’t written yet, but it is separate enough to stand alone for my purposes here, both as it is and as the complete story I envision it as. Mostly, I realized I wanted to write a little Christmas story, and actually post it before Christmas ended, but didn’t have the time to come up with anything new. This is going to be just a short thing, kind of a side story I guess, and I’ll post more later if there’s any interest.

---

One minute, it was a normal day in the city: cars honked at traffic the sidewalks were filled with busy people, and Aisha was at her favorite hot dog cart, getting lunch. The next, the ground shook, hard enough send people tumbling to the ground, break glass, and set off every car alarm for miles around. As one, every soul, no matter who they were or what they were doing, froze as the tremors settled.

It wasn’t in fear, or confusion. Rather, it was the simple realization of what the shaking meant.

It meant She was here: the Great Protector, The Lady of Sacrifices. The Goddess.

She had descended upon their land once more.

“Merry Christmas, little ones!” The sheer power of the voice rattled the windows around Aisha, the overwhelming majesty of the Goddess’s call enough to bring her to her knees, desperately trying to control the dual feelings of awe and arousal that rose within her. Just a few feet in front of her, she watched the hot vender lose that fight, madly plunging her hand deep into her shorts. Soft, animalistic whimpers emerged from her shaking frame as she engaged in the most basic worship any disciple of the Goddess could commit.

Aisha leaned against the cart and forced herself back to her feet. The fact that the Goddess’s voice affected them this much meant she was close, which meant she had to get up, now. Losing herself to her lust like that would be the end.

“It’s Christmas, my little toys! And you know what that means!”

And they did. The Goddess appeared to them at no set schedule, sometimes ignoring them for a week, sometimes spending an entire day in their town, blessing them with Her presence. However, the holidays were the sole form of structure amongst Her comings, and were also the times She demanded the most from them. And on Christmas that meant-

“That’s right!” Aisha startled at how her Goddess seemed to reply to her very thoughts, and the sheer arrogance of her thought, that She, in all Her greatness, would pay that much attention to her, filled her with shame, even as the blush on her face deepened.

“It means presents! So, all the good little toys should come to me for their gift! And all the naughty toys…” Lucia, her Goddess, and the one whole ruled over her entire world with absolute authority trailed off into a throaty chuckle.

Almost absently, Aisha realized she had soaked through her panties.

“Well, all the naughty little toys should just stay right there and wait for me to find you,” Lucia finished.

Aisha could almost imagine the grin on Her face.

It was, Aisha knew, an objective fact that it was better to be a good toy than a bad one. No matter what the church said, no matter what she saw on TV, no matter what she felt as she watched the Goddess stride between, through, and over the buildings they all lived in, to be taken by Her would mean an end to the life she knew, forever. It wasn’t that she’d die, but those Lucia claimed in her visits were never returned. Sometimes they would be seen in the Place Beyond, that impossible land where the Goddess resided, and on rare occasions they would descend with Her, as decorations upon Her body, but they never stayed longer than She did.

And yet Aisha didn’t rush to her benevolent Goddess’s feet, as a good, obedient toy that wanted to go home tonight would.

Her life would be over, she thought dully as time passed, and the awe-inspiring roar of the Goddess’s voice was replaced by different, higher pitched noises, laughter, and the occasional distinctly liquid sound.

Aisha would never see her friends again, or her house. Never sleep in her bed. Yet, no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t force herself to do anything more than stare dully at the vender quivering mindlessly on the ground in front of her, no longer able to move. Almost absently a hand slowly rose to her chest and stroked her a nipple, now so hard that it almost hurt.

In the distance, the great rumbling cries began to rise, louder and faster; she was running out of time. She had to present herself to the Goddess, now, before it was too late. She had to.

Aisha hadn’t moved an inch away from the cart when the conclusion came, loud and as glorious as the Goddess herself, and fried some last piece of resistance deep within her mind.

“Time’s up!” The Goddess proclaimed cheerfully, as Aisha fell to the ground to join the vender in her worship, tearing frantically at her clothes.

The shaking begin again, much weaker than before but repeating, and steadily growing stronger each time the Goddess’s feet met the ground.

She was coming.

“Come out, come out, my naughty little toys~” Lucia sang. “Hiding just makes me excited.”

Aisha closed her eyes, concentrating only on the feeling of her fingers inside her, and the sound of the Goddess as she walked, ever growing louder, ever growing closer, occasionally stopping to gleefully comment as she found someone on the street to collect. Somewhere deep inside what remanded of her mind, Aisha found herself grateful that She hadn’t felt the need to look inside the buildings yet: as she was now, there was no way Aisha could escape from them collapsing under Her inspections.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, blind, helpless to do anything other than madly pleasure herself, all sense of time falling out of her mind as the all consuming knowledge that She was coming, that She would soon find her, engulfed her, bringing her steadily to greater and greater heights of pleasure than she had ever dreamed possible.

Then the world no longer shook, but exploded and, with the sound of crumbling metal filling her ears, Aisha was sent flying through the air as she simultaneously reached the most powerful orgasim of her life.

---

“There you are.”

Lucia’s words brought Aisha out of unconsciousness. Slowly, she pushed herself off the dirt, the pleasure that filled her now mingling with throbbing pain as she opened her eyes and saw.

In front of her was a boot, bigger than a car, bigger than her house, bigger the building she worked in. Had worked in. At the very tip of the enormous boot, the vender from before squirmed, her clothes now gone, frantically humping at the leather and letting out mindless cries of joy as she tried to polish the leather with her own fluids.

The boot rose. And rose. High, high into the air, it rose, and Aisha had to crane her head back to observe where it meet a leg, it’s skin warm and inviting, which itself rose into a red skirt, which Aisha could see up into with absolutely no effort on her part.

Her Goddess wore no panties this Christmas, and was obviously excited. Neither of these facts were surprising.

The skirt itself was red, edged with white fur on the bottom and, on someone of a size of Lucia, almost sinfully short. Aisha herself, unworthy as she was, would be crushed by the mere weight of such a divine garment.

From the skirt rose the Goddess’s stomach, bare, and Aisha ached at the sight of it, wanting nothing more to crawl upon its vast expanses like the tiny little insect she was, and be lost forever upon the vastness of Her.

Despite everything, she found herself slowly reached between her legs, and the Goddess chuckled softly.

“Keep going.” She whispered, as softly a great being such as Herself could. “Keep looking up. But don’t stop worshipping me, either.”

Aisha obeyed, fingers diving deeping into her soaking pussy as she continued to behold the one that stood before her.

Above Her stomach was a red contraption of fabric, barely more than a bra, that struggled to contain the monumental heights of Her truly mountainous breasts.

Long ago, an artist had carried out an audacious undertaking: sculpting a replica of one of Lucia’s breasts. Just the one had taken her years of tireless work, and she had been Sainted for her efforts, taken by Goddess in a personal visit in honor of her devotion. Later, their town had been built around the the now divine artifact and Aisha, like many others, had spent long hours contemplating its magnificence, ascending its heights to better know and worship the Goddess.

Compared to the twin realities that floated above her, the great monument she had spent so much time contemplating seemed like a child’s toy, almost as pathetic and insignificant as she was.

Aisha’s other hand reached to her own breasts, comparing their size to what was before her and finding them wanting. Her entire body was wanting compared to even one nipple, the fact that she dared tried to compare her breast to Lucia’s at all was an act of arrogance that boggled the mind.

The Goddess laughed. “Yes.” She whispered. “Yes. Look upon them, toy. See everything that you’re not.”

A hand, graced with festively painted nails, at once feminine and delicate, yet larger than an airplane appeared. It moved across the sky impossibly fast, reached up and grabbed a breast, long fingers sinking into its impossible softness.

Far above Aisha, Lucia moaned, and it shook her to her bones. A drop of holy liquid dripped from Her skirt, making a crater in the ground as it hit.

One more time, Aisha looked up even higher, forcing her neck back as far as she could until she gave up and laid herself on the ground to mindless mastrubate as she witnessed her Goddess’s face.

Above her, beyond her, it hung high in the sky, impossibly beautiful, inhumanly large. Her hair was green, and woven into countless braids to resemble Christmas lights that, from their lofty origin, descended to surround the entire park. Each ‘light’ that graced her hair was a woman tied into place, naked, colored bright red and writhing in ecstasy that almost seemed verge on pain.

Her great eyes gazed down upon her, locked upon her tiny form. As their eyes met, great crimson lips moved as She smiled.

“I like you, little toy.” Lucia said. “So devout. So pretty.”

A hand reached down to her, blotting out the sky and Her face as it approached, growing ever larger in Aisha’s sight.

“You’ll make an excellent present.” The Goddess promised as Her hand engulfed Aisha completely.

---

Yes, I know this seems to be a giantess story, but bear with me. If nothing else, it’s never that simple with me.

Ah. I feel like I’m getting back into the flow of it. Also, this is a much more interesting chapter, in my opinion. In fact, I would even say it might get a little intense.

---

Miranda rubbed the fabric between her fingers pensively for a few more moments before looking up at me.

“Ian…” she began, only to trail off as she looked at me. Like before, I got the impression she was looking for something on my expression, though I still wasn’t sure what.

“Ian… we would like to put on our clothes. Would you please turn away so we could have some privacy?”

I lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Why?”

I would be the first to admit that I had been looking forward to seeing the spectacle of not only Miranda, but Amber and Mia as well, dress; just seeing them in their underwear alone would be more than worth the price I had paid to obtain them, but as always it was more complicated than just what I wanted.

There was a time not too long ago where I would have done what she asked without question, but there was also time even less long ago where I would have simply said ‘No’ just because I could. More than than the constant confusion of our relationship, though, there was an even more valid point of contention.

“It’s not like like you’re undressing or anything: you’re already naked. You’ve been naked the entire time. I literally have never seen the others with clothes on, ever.”

Miranda visibly hesitated, but didn’t back down before my question.

“Because… because I’m asking you. Because I’m asking you to do this, for me, as a favor.” She licked her lips nervously. “Because I’m hoping that, even now, you’ll respect my opinion enough to do this, even though you have every right to ignore me, and there’s no way for me to stop you. So please Ian. Please.”

It was a low blow. Even now, after all the twists and turns we’d been though, all the frustration she’d caused me, the fact that a simple, heartfelt ‘Please’ could hit me like that was cheating. I wanted her. I was promised her, by her, no less.

But in the end, I just couldn’t tell her no.

“Fine.” I said, more than a little bitterly, though the entire table noticeably cheered at my response. “Fine. For you, Miranda.”

She smiled. “Maybe you could… wait over at the couch, until we’re done?” She was more confident in her request this time, either at the fact that it would actually be listened to, or that she wouldn’t be punished for asking.

“We can all meet you there afterwards. I think we need to have a talk.” Miranda paused, and looked meaningfully at Sydney, who was still doing her best to hide behind people a fraction of her size.

“All of us. And it might go better if we were in a more… relaxed setting than this.”

That was actually a decent point. I was trying to establish more of a relationship with Miranda, one more than just enemies or of pet and owner, and my standing over them as they stood on the table probably wasn’t the most reassuring stance for them.

“That seems reasonable.” I answered after a moment. “I’ll go turn something on while I wait.”

It was a more undignified exit than I would have liked, and I barely resisted the urge to stomp a little as I left. Flopping onto the couch with a sigh, I turned on the television, mindlessly flipping through the channels before I landed on one of those gimmicky cooking shows.

Usually, I enjoyed the spectacle of watching Mins, once professional chefs, struggle and more often than not fail to perform tasks as simple as mixing a bowl, but today, their antics left a bad taste in my mouth. Clicking my tongue in irritation, I turned the the TV off again, and glanced down only to realize I had gained an audience at some point.

I may have actually drooled.

The dress hugged Miranda’s torso like it was painted on, with a neckline so low that her breasts were more outlined by the dress than concealed by it, and from the side it was cut so high that, from any other viewpoint than above, I was sure I could gotten a good look at her panties. A leg, magnificently highlighted in all it’s long, yet paradoxically short glory by black stockings, struck out from that gap assertively, matching the cocky grin she wore as she gazed up at my dumb expression.

It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

And she knew it.

“Holy shit.” I said.

I fumbled for more words, and failed to find any.

I settled on, “Holy shit”, eventually, with what I felt was not nearly enough emphasis for the reality of the situation.

Miranda laughed a sweet, bell-like laugh.

“Ah, Ian, you do know how to make a girl feel appreciated, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth, decided repeating myself a third time probably wasn’t going to help, and closed it again.

She laughed even harder.

“Would you mind being a gentleman and giving us a lift? It’s hard to talk to you from all the way down here.”

Oh, right. The others were there too. I glanced at them briefly, and while the outfits did cling to them like a second skin, and while the boots did like awfully nice on them, my eyes slide their way back to Miranda in no time at all.

She noticed, and her smug smile grew larger at the realization of how much of my attention she had.

I cleared my throat before making a mock bow, bending low in my chair so I could lower my hand down to her level.

“My lady,” I said, in what was meant to be a teasing tone, but came out far more serious than I had planned. “Your ride awaits.”

Miranda curseyed, still grinning, before walking primly toward my hand and sitting on it as if it was a bench, folding one leg over the other as she did so, in a way that just so happened to hike her dress up even higher.

I’d felt that very same ass multiple times over the last few days, without any fabric separating it from my skin, yet somehow, something made the its touch on the palm of my hand far more erotic than it ever had been before: the outfit, maybe, how teased but still concealed, or the newfound confidence Miranda wore with her dress, or maybe the situation itself, the intimacy of it, as if we were lovers on a date rather than something as brutish and simple as groping or copping a feel.

I didn’t know, and I didn’t care, as long as it kept happening.

I lifted my hand, and the tiny, spectacular creature sitting upon it, slowly up into the air as I straightened up, before bringing it hovering just over the arm of my chair. Daintly, Miranda stepped onto the fake leather, before rearranging her dress and settling down on the edge, high heeled feet dangled out over my leg.

I stared at her a moment before she coughed politely. “And everyone else…?”

“Ah.”

Miranda giggled again as I bent over, taking pains to avoid knocking her over as I did so. For Amber and Mia, I lowered my hand again so they could climb on it, and if it wasn’t quite as flat or the ride as smooth as it had been for Miranda, they only had to look over at how I grabbed Sydney, pinning her arms in place, to stop themselves from voicing any complaints.

The smaller Mins I placed on the same arm as Miranda: they sat by her side, dwarfed by her in both size and beauty. Interestingly, I watched Miranda reach down to gently stroke Amber’s head, and how the woman leaned into her touch, while Mia look on in both envy and contempt.

Clearly, at some point that relationship must have changed.

Sydney, on the other hand, I placed face down on my leg, pressed up against the other arm of the chair, pinned in place by the elbow I sat on her back. She whimpered, once, as I did so, but bad no move to try and escape.

Miranda watched me do so, and her expression cooled somewhat in the process.

“Ian. I’ve realized that we need to… discuss some things. About Sydney, mostly,” and here the woman in question flinched, as if she was struck, “But also about you.”

Reaching down, she plucked Amber off of the chair and cuddled the Min to her chest, as if she was child hugging a teddy bear.

“I don’t like Sydney, Ian” Miranda began frankly. “I never have. I want her to bow and scape at my feet. I want her to cower at my displeasure, I want use her, and I want to rule her… but I don’t want to kill her. I don’t want to maim her, or even torture her. She’s a bitch, yes, but she doesn’t deserve that.”

She paused, squeezing the woman in her arms tighter, seeking comfort from the warm little form she held, before continuing.

“I heard you, in the other room, with Sydney. We all did. And I know you did it to protect me, and believe me, Ian, I very much appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I feel there are some basic realities of being a Min that you don’t quite understand.”

Miranda adjusted Amber in her grip, resting the Min in her arm and against her breast, before gesturing at me.

“To a Min, a normal person isn’t a ‘person’ anymore Ian. Think about it. Your finger is as tall as these two. You pick any of us up, one handed, and barely notice. If you stepped on one of us accidently? We would be crushed. When you look at a person, there’s an implicit understand that, largely, both you and them are equals. Even a small woman has a chance to defend herself against a tall man, after all.”

Miranda laughed, bitterly. “There are no equals here, Ian. What can I do to resist you? What can any of us do to resist you? Sydney is, without a doubt, the largest Min I’ve seen in my life, the largest Min I’ve ever heard of, and look at her! You’re not doing anything, and she can’t even move! Does something able to do that sound like a person to you? Or a human being?”

She sighed. “You are not a human to us, Ian. You are a force of nature, a god: something that can’t be stopped, can’t be fought, can’t be resisted in any way, only avoided or appeased. You are a god, Ian Hunter, and you are a terrible one, a cold, cruel creature whispered about in the dark of night, a Min’s nightmare. You adore me, and treasure me, but it is only me that you extend these feelings towards, it is only me that you would protect, and no one here doubts that you would kill them without remorse if I wasn’t here to stop you. You wouldn’t relish in it, but you wouldn’t feel sorry, either, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, and blinking away tears, Miranda curled up on the chair, tucking Amber under her head. I didn’t, couldn’t, say anything, and after a moment she continued.

“Mins live in a world filled with gods, a world for gods, with tools and objects beyond us petty mortals. We live in a world where we are loathed by those who hold absolute power over us, who consider us, rightfully, as less than people, less than Them. We live in fear that today is the day some god or another may decide that today is the day we shall be hurt for their amusement, played with as toys… or worse. We pray that today is the day a god might look down on us and find us worthy of some absent, backhanded generosity, the gift of crumbs instead of going hungry, the mercy of being felt up with a gentle finger instead of being clenched in a tight fist.”

Miranda was crying, now, and I was afraid moving would only make things worse, would drive her away, so all I could do was watch as the woman I loved broke down next to me.

“We are afraid, Ian. We are afraid, always afraid, of anyone we see. The fact you exist is a threat to us, Ian, to any Min, and the way you act, the way you look at us, so distant and uncaring? It’s fucking terrifying. Sharks are supposed to look at people like that. You look at me, and it’s so… kind, and warm, and filled with so many emotions, but I wonder, sometimes-”

She stopped. Shivered. “Sometimes… sometimes I look up at you, and wonder if I’ll see anything looking back at me, if it’ll be as flat and as empty as the way you look the others, if you’ll stop-”

As Miranda talked, her voice had grown more and more frantic, before I spoke over her with one simple word.

“NO.” I said, trying to drive away her terror with the sheer determination in my voice. She froze and looked at me, wide eyed, as I continued to talk.

“No. Not you, Miranda. Not you, never you.”

Slowly, inch by pain stacking inch, I lifted up my hand and brought it towards her, as she stared at it with all the unreasoning terror of a cornered animal.

“You are special to me, Miranda,” I continued, lowering my voice, trying to make it soothing and gentle, “You’ve always been special to me.”

The hand continued to approach, and still she didn’t move. In her arms, Amber gazed out towards it with dread, unable to escape Miranda’s grip.

“Always.”

My hand closed around her, and Miranda started at the contact, her eyes suddenly focusing.

“You will never be like the others.”

As she was lifted into the air, my other arm, just as slowly, rose from its living rest. Ever so gently, a finger wiped away her tears.

---

So. As it turns out, blatantly giving no shits if someone lives or dies is scary, especially if they depend on you for everything. Who’d thunk? Not Ian, that’s for sure.

Been awhile, hasn’t it? Just recently I was reminded that, apparently, people actually like this story, which is always a weird thing to for me to realize. In the process of getting back into this I did some world building, and got some interesting new bits that I think will actually work pretty well, but we’re not quite there yet so I have some more time to consider how to best execute them. Of course, what actually held me up once I tried to start was trying to make the characters work right, and had nothing to do with my new plans. Irony.

Anyways, hope this doesn’t disappoint.

---

As Miranda took in her one time rival’s suffering, drinking it in like a fine wine, an idea occurred to me. She was clearly on a roll, and I didn’t want to interrupt her when she was having so much fun, but it would be the cherry on top of this little scene.

“You know Miranda,” I said, ignoring the dirty look she threw me, “I had actually gotten you something I meant to give to you yesterday, before I got distracted.”

“Oh?” The annoyance had faded somewhat from her expression, to be replaced by a somewhat skeptical interest. “Another present for me?”

I nodded. “You, and the others, if you want.”

That earned me a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

“Tell you what: why don’t I get them, and we’ll see what you think?”

I rose from my chair, and as I did, everyone on the table flinched at the sudden motion, Miranda taking a step as I loomed over her, a hand reaching out.

“Do you mind if I borrow your toy really quick?” I asked as I grabbed Sydney’s ankle. She yelped, but we both ignored her. “Maybe give her a little tour of the house?”

As if I cared about that. I just wasn’t prepared to leave the two of them alone quite yet, and maybe she felt the same, because a relieved little smile appeared on her face as I began to pull the larger woman towards me, her fingers impotently trying to hold onto the wood.

“Of course, Ian,” Miranda smirked. “Go ahead and show her a good time.”

I had been taking her anyways, but it was important for me to at least pretend to have her permission, to better hammer the facts into Sydney’s head. With it obtained, I stopped my slow pull and yanked sharply, sending Sydney screaming off the edge of the table, with only my hold on her ankle stopping her from falling head first to the floor. I lifted the thrashing Min higher into the air for Miranda to see, and when she giggled Sydney froze, seeming to realize what would happened if her struggles freed her from my grasp.

Of course, then I began to walk across the house, making sure to swing her back and forth with every step. By the time I reached the closet and opened it, Sydney had gone silent in my grasp, and had curled up as much as she could while hanging upside down. Casually, I tossed her up into the air, my hand snatching her before she could fall.

“Alright, listen up.” I said to the shrieking Min in my hand. I wanted to have another little talk with her, away from the others. I hadn’t exactly paid attention to them when I had gotten physical with Sydney, but I could imagine watching a woman far larger than them being casually abused by someone far bigger than even her would be alarming. I wasn’t planning on being as nice as I had been earlier, and I didn’t want to traumatize Miranda.

“The time will come when I leave you and Miranda in a room together without any supervision. When that time comes, you may get… ideas. You’re bigger, after all, and it would be easy for you to push her around. Like old times.”

I smiled, and Sydney froze.

“Maybe if you hurt her enough, she might be too afraid to tell me what you did! Just bully her, and the natural order will be restored, right? After all, she’s too weak to stop you.” Sydney had grown pale as I spoke, and I dropped the ill fitting expression from my face. Somehow, it didn’t seem to reassure her. “I want you remember this when the time comes.”

Slowly I reached out with my other hand and closed it around her arm and began to squeeze. “If you hurt Miranda I will rip your limbs off.”

I leaned in closer to her with a hiss, my hand squeezing tighter. “Then I will make you eat them. And I will make sure that you finish every. Single. Bite.”

I squeezed even tighter on her arm for emphasis as I spoke. In my hand Sydney was gasping in pain, trying to yank her arm away from me, but I merely increased the pressure even more as she fought me.

“And even then, I won’t allow your suffering to simply end. I will keep you alive, miserable and covered in your own filth, as long as I can. I will have the other Mins shovel Min chow and water into your mouth as you cry, begging for the salvation of death which you will be denied. I want you to remember this: no matter what Miranda does to you, no matter what humiliation she will inflict, no matter what she wants you to do, I can, and will, do worse. I’m not protecting Miranda from you, Miranda is protecting you from me. Do we have an understanding?”

I waited a moment, but when all she did was keep mindlessly pulling at her arm, I adjusted my grip, placing the edge of my thumb nail just under her shoulder.

She froze. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You do not want me think that you’re confused about this. Do we. Have. An understanding?”

“Yes.” She said softly, shaking in my grip.

“What was that?” I asked sternly. “I need you to speak up.”

“Yes!” Sydney babbled. “Yes yes yes yes sir I understand you Master please Master don’t hurt me anymore please I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-”

I interrupted her. “Good. Good! I’m glad we could clear the air.”

I released her arm, and Sydney grabbed at her now red flesh with a sob, flinching as I pat her head with a finger. “Do me a favor: don’t mention this conversation to anyone, alright? We wouldn’t want to scare Miranda, after all.”

The Min nodded franticlly and I laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. Remember, if you want to be happy, you need to keep Miranda happy.”

Putting her out my mind for the moment, I I grabbed the box from the shelf I had left it on and began walking back to the table, blinking at how it had changed. At some point Amber and Mia had left the edge of the table to approach Miranda, who was now knelt down over them, holding them in her arms protectively, all three of them looking up at me with blank expressions on their faces.

Ah. They had heard the conversation from before. I probably should have been quieter.

I dropped Sydney on the table, trying to ignore how they jolted at my movement, and more gently placed the box on the table next to her. The second she left my hand the Min scrambled her feet and ran behind the others on the table, huddling down as much as she could, if their tiny forms would protect her.

Tellingly, none of the other Mins so much as blinked as they left their backs exposed to their former tormentor.

“Tell me, Miranda,” I said, avoiding any mention about what had just happened as I opened the box, “How do you feel about a dress?”

Her jaw dropped as I reached in and pulled out a wine red cocktail dress the size of my palm from where it had carefully laid, letting it flutter down onto the table in front of her.

Miranda dropped her friends, but they didn’t even protest, just as amazed as her by the piece of clothing I had presented them. Mia reached out to feel touch at its hem before Miranda picked up the garment with trembling hands and lifted it from the table top.

Moments later, I reached back in and retrieved a baggie with a tiny pair of stiletto heel shoes and some equally sized undergarments.

“Or maybe some shoes?”, I added rhetorically.

“What?” Miranda stared at the dress, whatever terror I had caused forgotten as she lifted the fabric, seeming almost afraid it would vanish from her hands if she wasn’t careful. “Ian… how?”

I shrugged. “I ordered it, obviously.”

Clothing for a Min was luxury, one too expensive to be afforded to the ones kept in the Kennel. Outside of it, however, there was a booming industry in Min clothing, either for giving loved one some illusion of propriety, or more commonly to make an attractive toy even more so. There was also a not insignificant portion of the market devoted bondage apparel.

Doll dresses, unlike what you saw on TV, didn’t fit the body of a real Min, and were unpleasant besides, sometimes even causing an unattractive rash on that impossibly soft skin. Even if an owner didn’t care who their Mins felt when they wore an outfit, something that ruined their appeal like that was unacceptable. Real Min clothing was made to order, since each Min had their own proportions, and was designed to feel as pleasant as possible on the delicate, extremely sensitive skin of a Min. All of that, of course, made each garment far more expensive than their size would have suggested to the ignorant.

I was more than willing to spend some money for the sole purpose of spoiling Miranda.

When the DMC had contacted me, they had given me all the Min’s measurements, and one of the first things I had done was order some outfits, to arrive as soon as possible, while making a second, larger order that would arrive at some later point. Even then, they had barely arrived a day before I picked up Miranda.

There were a couple more outfits in the box for her I’d bring out later… and a few more that she would probably not be quite as happy about, but I would want her to wear eventually. For now, though, I ignored them, and pulled out some crop tops and shorts in basic black, and set them on the table as well. For a moment Miranda puzzled at them, obviously too small for her to wear, before it clicked in her mind who they were meant for.

Amber was the one who spoke next. “For us? You got clothes for us?”

I shrugged again. “Sure, why not? I didn’t know what you looked like, so I got you a few things in black. It works with everyone, right?”

They stared at me, all of them, only to change focus to the knee high boots I dropped in front of them.

Min clothing trended more towards skimpy than covering as a whole, and I wasn’t willing to spend more on them for a more ‘normal’ outfit, so the boots were sleek, shiny high heeled things, made more to be sexy than practical. Besides, I was a man after all. I enjoyed watching women strut around in high heels, so sue me.

Still, when the little Mins picked them up, they held them as if they were the most precious things they had ever seen.

I wasn’t crazy about spending money on the two of them, but they did serve a higher purpose than just making them nicer to look at: they were, like so many other things I gave or allowed them, luxuries. Luxuries to make Miranda think that much better of me.

Luxuries I could take away from them, if need be.

And now, a luxury that Sydney was denied, but everyone else was allowed, a reminder of her place.

At that thought I looked up to check on the larger Min. I expected her to be staring at the others with envy, or maybe resentment. Instead she was staring at me, wide eyed and shaking.

A giant finds a civilization of tinies, huddled up alone in the cold, vulnerable and afraid. He takes them in, protects them, gives them a place to live on his table. As their fortunes change, they start to build themselves a better life: he helps, provides food and materials, and they love him for it, worship him, almost. A giant statue is raised in his honor, taller than the tallest building.

Then, one day, he destroys it, smashes all their works like a child knocking over sand castles. As they run, weeping and screaming in confusion, he begins to squash them, one by one, with his finger. He does it slowly, deliberately, because there’s no need to rush: they’ve lived their whole lives, after all, on his table, far far away from the ground

“Why!” They shriek at their protector as he turns them all to nothing. “Why are you doing this to us?! Why help us, only to do this?!”

Eventually, he deigns to answer. “Because,” he laughs, dragging away a woman with one hand as he pulps her husband with the other, “It’s fun!”

I’ve said it before that while I fetishize being violent to shrunken women, hurting, voring, and dominating and what not, destroying their lives for my amusement, I know in anything close to real life I’d honestly spoil them rotten.

I’m pretty sure this is by Jitensha, actully.

If we’re going the full gulliver spectrum here, then honestly it might not be a modern world as we know it. If they aren’t isolated in separate biomes, with species sized to match, then giants wouldn’t have the drive to invent a lot of things because they could so casually dominate the world, normal and tinies included, while tinies are just so ill equipped to survive in a world where everything their size hits so far above their weight class that it honestly would be a miracle that they’d survive: for humans to survive and prosper over nature, we need to band together, invent… things that would make them target for bigger creatures. A village of tinies might be able to repel mice, or even drive off cats with primitive chemical warfare, but the moment a normal person sees them, obvious targets, they’re screwed, and a giant would probably step on them by accident and not even notice.

Long term, the desire for an easier life and luxuries would push technology forward, but really the only way I could see such a society long term would be built around the giants, with normal sized humans as pets/slaves/workers, with tinies either clinging to life in the shadows or just being pets, like… an ant farm or something.