Seriously, don’t stress over updating the site; for us, just having one is a luxury. Get your stuff sorted in your own time and worry about this later.

(It occurs to me that a bunch of people who don’t consume anime/manga might not know what yandere is… (oops on that last topic with it), so for a brief explanation: a yandere is a deeply possessive person who is ‘in love’ with someone, to the point of obsession, where they will actively do things to ruin their love interests life, isolate them from friends/family, kill off love interest, try to take away their independence by both physical, financial, and psychological means (lots and lots of gas lighting), all in the name of keeping the love interest theirs and only theirs. While the term itself is japanese, the idea clearly applies to stalkers seen in horror movies and crime dramas you’d see anywhere.)

Something I’ve realized is that yandere is a concept that is built of similar dynamics to size content: it’s about obtaining control over another person, by either gaining more power directly or, more often, taking away their power, thus leaving them either dependant on you or unable to resist you in a meaningful way. For obvious reasons, then, this is something that comes up with GTS, and to a lesser extent, GTs. But i’ve been wondering; how would a yandere sw work?

To a certain extent, for a GT/f relationship, the normal sized person is actually going to have some soft power over the bigger one because, no matter what most GTS stories seem to think, turning giant isn’t a magic ‘I Win’ button. Even assuming the military just doesn’t blow their ass up with some missiles if they go on a rampage, either because they’re accepted for some reason, or they have something else to explain why the military can’t pose a reasonable threat… society isn’t made for a giant person, and we are deeply dependant on society for a lot of things.

There’s no clothes, obviously, but there’s also no food, no shelter, no good place to use the bathroom… and while those, also, can be explained by a magical kind of biology… what about TV? Cell phones? A soft bed? All those modern luxuries we’ve all grown to enjoy? There’s a whole world of modern civilization that a giant can’t really access… but a normal person could. That’s something to hold over them, and considering how stuff like email and social media works and how a giant couldn’t even use a keyboard, easily control what they’d learn about.

Beyond that, I’ve been rolling around the idea of a rich normal person patroning a giant, and her wealth being the only reason they have, like, a bed. And good food. And clothes. And that being a sort of de facto tool to keep the giant under their control, because where else are you going to get underwear for the seventy foot man? Not from your old, normal ex, that’s for sure!

But it’s different with SW, because the ‘giant’ here is the normal one; they are the ones with control over the tools of civilization, they are the one with the technological and financial advantages.

I mean, you could jokingly do it with the guy just kind of ignoring their crazy because of how little (ha) he thinks of her, letting her hump his leg or finger whenever she gets in the mood and not really reacting to it, and just kind of flicking them away when they’re annoying, but that seems… a waste of the idea. Unless you make the SW the breadwinner/rich person (which is possible), I think the only way to do it is emotional manipulation. An sw constantly preying on their giant’s emotions; stuff like, ‘I’m afraid, don’t leave me alone!’, or, ‘don’t be so cruel to me’, ‘you can’t abandon me like this’, or maybe even, ‘you did this to me, so you need to take care of me now’, probably mixed with some hard-core seduction.

It’d be entirely dependant, in other words, on the guy putting up with the abusive tendencies, where in any other format there’s an actual danger the woman can pose, or threat they can use, to back up their crazy.

Any thoughts on this, or ideas?

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…

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.

Something I idly muse over sometimes is someone taking care of a dollhouse for an SW, or maybe even a little town of dollhouses and people inside them. I just like the idea of someone maintaining these little houses, that people live in, that they could pick up.

It’s something, depending on how you want to spin it, that could go all sorts of ways: a lonely wizard, making a sort of fancy bird house for fairies so he can have company. A giant repairing a abandoned home as a hobby, like a ship in a bottle, only to find someone moved in one day. A man making doll houses for charity, but he finds himself as an unexpected landlord to some tinies looking for a new home.

For me, what pleases me the most about this kind of thing is something a lot of others have said: power, pure and simple. It’s something I understood pretty quickly about myself as soon as I started thinking about it.

I’m more on the GT end then the SW end, I’ve found, and it’s for the simple reason that I, personally, want more power, rather than I want to take away other’s power. Even as a child, before any of this really kicked in, I wanted to be a dragon because dragons are a symbol of power: big, strong, unstoppable, inspiring both fear and awe.

On a fundamental level, I’ve found, a SW story is about dehumanizing a woman to some degree, even if those around them are gentle and kind and treat them like people, because they simply can’t do the things considered normal for a person to do. The crueler stories simply take that to the logical extremes: they are lesser, they aren’t human, they’re pets, toys, etc, and therefore they don’t deserve those rights.

A giant story, on the other hand, is about empowering a man to be more than a man. On the logistic end, there can be conflicts with how daily life things aren’t there, or how fragile the world is, but even then that’s a dynamic/metaphor all it’s own, about how they surpass the works of humanity, and thus humanity itself, which is of course something that can be played with as its own concept with giants as rulers or gods.

There’s this odd juxtaposition on the fact that I want the ability to do things to people, including horrible things at times, but at the same time having no real desire to use said things outside of fantasizing, which is probably why my stories tend back to the SW end: it’s easier to be kind when your less likely to do damage to everyone around with your existence. There’s probably something to say about the fact I want that power for the freedom of it, rather than the use of it.

Fantasizing about being cruel has its place, of course. From vore and the brutal primal nature of it, the implicit triumph and taking involved with eating something, to the casual domination of stepping on things, people, places simply because you can, or even out of the lack of desire to even avoid them. To reduce a living thing in merely what you want her to be, to destroy whatever parts of her personality you don’t like until her world is you, and she can’t imagine a life not being your possession.

There’s something especially tantalizing about betrayal, perhaps because I loathe it on a fundamental level: the act of making your victim lower her guard, maybe making her think you’re her friend, maybe making her a promise that you’ll protect her, spare her, help her, if she just does this one thing… only to break that agreement when the time comes. And at that moment, her emotions: the heartbreak, the disbelief, the hurt, the despair, that instant when the hope dies is… intoxicating.

What are you thoughts on it? Because I’ve realized that, if I was to have an SW in any form, I’d spend a lot of time, and I mean a lot, just… cuddling. Nothing sexual, just holding them just to hold something soft and warm and because I like holding them, and they like being held as well.

I’m thinking about this because that appeals to me a lot, but it’s not something that seems to come up? There are mentions of it in stories, but more as logical extensions of X action or whatnot, and no one ever really… talks about in discussions, and we talk about everything from size hierarchies to vore here.

I think something that has always turned me on is dismissing something.

So, shrunken women are shrunken women, right? Even if you call them pets or what not, while you dismiss their rights and autonomy and all that, there’s a part of you that’s admitting that they’re still human beings, just smaller, just a person you’ve taken things away from and holding captive.

But there’s a step beyond that. When they shrink, for whatever reason, a switch flips inside you, and your view on them changes. And then? They aren’t human, not anymore. Maybe they’ve never been.

It could be a friend, a lover, someone you helped on the street who is desperately grateful for this one moment of kindness in the shithole their life has become, but the instant they shrunk, that person might have well have died for all that they matter to you. And the thing is, this is usually paired with particularly gorn-y scenarios, but it doesn’t have to be, and honestly, it’s… limiting, in a way. Not just in the use of the woman, but in the cruelty of it.

Even if you’re kind, even if you treat them as… a treasured pet, if you break their will, their conception of who and what they are, until the only thing they can even dream of in life is just to get their Master’s loving affirmation, then you’ve destroyed them, as a person, and left them only a pampered shell.

And that’s the generous option; there’s no need to be kind.

Give the bare minimum needed to live. Make her earn her food, and make sure what she gives is as demeaning as where she lives and what she is (and isn’t) wearing.

Be distant, kind, unfeeling towards her, and always firm on how it’s her fault (even, or especially, if its not) until she accepts that she’s just… that. A toy, a tool, an object. Something to be used, that doesn’t just live like this, but deserves it. She deserves to live on my floor, she deserves to be fed my crumbs, she deserves to live, naked and afraid, but almost pathetically desperate to please me, just to make the shame of her very life go away.

And then, after you use her, and she lays there, soaked with her sweat, gasping for breath, quite possibly in pain, she looks up at you and thanks you for it. Not because she enjoyed it, even though she did enjoy it. But because you chose her to use and abuse, to give that level of attention to, even, and quite possibly especially, if it was cruel rather than kind, and she is thankful for that fact from the bottom of her heart.

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.

@Olo
I think they like boobs too much to not have the giant feature them.

Which. Is understandable. Honestly I’m just grateful that this super great artist, at least, is sw focused for once.

@Olo
Eskoz is great; they release maybe four videos a year, but they’re free and always great, and pretty much always F/f. There’s few F/m, but it’s usually as a variation on a theme kind of thing. I highly recommend looking at more of their stuff.

@tiny-ivy
Alternatively? Flip the script.

You are into this being tiny thing. You love being in Brodigan or whatever. You are, perhaps, unhealthily into it… and it concerns your giant owner. That is, in fact, the reason why she picked up in the first place: you were running full tilt towards the nearest person you could find, never mind things like cars or stomping feet.

She knows that madness would only get worse if you finally meet her boyfriend, and she’s deeply worried about your increasingly determined escape attempts. She’s slowly escalating her efforts to keep you safe in her room, without just locking you in a box or something, because she’s nice like that, and meanwhile the boyfriend is starting to notice her efforts and increased worries.

But consider this: what if the woman has the SW, from her days of stomping around Lilliput or whatever, and she’s trying to hide you from her man?

I mean, you’re hardly the only one; I know there’s that one big fetish author who seems to specialize in that kind of thing, though they seem to prefer futanaris.

I think it probably comes from the implicit smallness of it, that the person is so damn small that you can drown them in sex, along with… how to I put this? How… gang-rape-y it can be, where you can also just outnumber them, and so casually?

Plus, what probably boils down to something like dehumanization as well.

I like it as part of a wider view kind of thing, where you zoom in on a small part of what the bigger person is doing, and that implicit smallness it brings, rather than just the sperm; that bigger picture really makes those for me.

I mean, if you’re losing your SWs because they bit you, I just gotta shake my head a little, just saying.

Anyways, if you’re trying to avoid that, a simple way is to position your hand under their head so they…, you know, can’t. Depending on the size and how gentle you want to be (the smaller they get, the more difficult it is to grab your SWs safely, though after a certain point they can no longer even cause minor pain with a bite), you can either have a finger directly under their jaw (which would also keep them from talking, if you’re into that), or just have the top of your hand end up near the neck area; that way, they won’t be able to bend their head down enough to take a nip.

…The fact this means you are firmly grasping their chest is, of course, completely unrelated to this advice.

@SmolChlo
Of course, that’s a dangerous game, because most things with yanderes end with the person noticing they’re being obsessed over… and the giant is the one holding the cards. You need to balance your stick usage with your carrots, otherwise your giant horse is going to walk off to do whatever he wants, with you stuck for the ride whether you like it or not.

…

‘You’re saddled up; there’s no recourse
It’s, “Hi-yo, silver!”
Signed: Bad Horse.’

I never thought Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog would feel topical to SWs, lol.

@Olo
“Where are you going? Are just going to leave me here, trapped on this table? I thought you were going to protect me. Don’t you love me?”

@littlest-lily
A lot of gentle SW scenarios, where the SW is a stranger, is often built around something like Nightingale Syndrome, where they devote time to caring for them and get attached, and the SW in turn gets used to being cared for and grows attached in turn.

Rather than her being nuts right away… you could play it as a sort of… slide, since he is her world, honestly. Food? Water? Safety? Comfort? All of them come from the Friendly Giant. It becomes common sense for her to rely on him for everything, to call him for every worry. At the same time, the fact she has nothing else, no real way to spend her time, no others to talk to (or, if there’s other SWs, they’re only competition for the FG’s time), the fact that the FG has other options than her grates at her, even as the sheer helplessness of her situation eats away at her sanity; people aren’t made to be so helpless, after all.

And so, more and more, she demands more and more from the Friendly Giant, growing slowly crueler and more abusive, until on some level she starts thinking that she owns him, and isn’t afraid to throw a fit if he breaks that world view.

@Olo
The SW sneaking into your clothes, into your bags, into your food, constantly stalking you, but she’s on you; no privacy in your home, no matter how hard you try. Threatening to reveal herself to friends and claim abuse unless you spoil her constantly.