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.

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.

For mouthplay, a lot of the time it’s just an extension of everything else involving lewding an SW; it’s dangerous to the SW, sure, but… everything is. A lot of standard SW sizes could (and do) die to a dick (or pussy), much less a hand, a foot, or… literally any body part. But putting them in your mouth gives you an extra level of control as you cut them off from the rest of the world , with the implicit threat of crushing teeth and that gaping void waiting for them in the back, all while your tongue can easily dominate them. Also, let’s be honest here: an actual SW would probably taste delicious.

Beyond that, though, the reasons extend into the reasons I like vore: TLDR,; power, like almost everything to do with this fetish but more so.

Eating something, as a cause of death, has… something extra to it. You don’t just kill them, you take from your prey, you become more as they come less. Honestly, predation is probably the most primitive, basic, primal power relationship that there is. I’ve always preferred predator to prey animals, the bigger and meaner the better, and looking back at it that interest was probably based in the same interests that lead me to SWs in the first place. Regardless of the actual realities (nature is complicated, gasp!) there’s something inside you that says the one eating another is bigger, stronger, superior to the one that is being eaten, and to devour your enemy is an ultimate form of victory over them. It still applies even if the vore isn’t physical, if you can syphon from them or something; the act, either literal or metaphorical, of taking is the biggest part for me.

On the less violent end, while I can’t really understand the SW perspective, the idea of being so much bigger than someone(s) that they can live inside you, vulnerable and helpless to your actions, conscious or automatic? That, perhaps literally, you are a world to them? That is hot.

Also, I’ve always been an eater since I was kid. Vore vibes with me on that level the same way super powers or monsters that involve eating do.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Ah, this is one I’m hoping to write at some point: a wandering giant, traveling by a local kingdom on his way to fight a dragon (as is right and proper!) is shanghaied by the clever princess and her staff and is promptly crowned as the king.

Local Giant has absolutely no interest in being king, or living with normal people, or anything, but he’s the kind of person who used his social skills as a dump stat, so the resident princess keeps leading him around by the nose whenever he tries to leave. Meanwhile, she’s busy telling all their enemies about their ‘new GIANT king, he’s so BIG and STRONG, oh, and did you hear about how he spends his time HUNTING DRAGONS before he decided to settle down?’ to scare them off because everyone before he was corrupted and there’s barely anyone in the castle anymore.

I’m picturing this kind of Benny Hill scene of the giant, big and rough with dragon skin clothes, trying to leave, only to fail horribly in his complete inability to be sneaky, what with being fifty feet tall, and be dragged into judging the princess’s outfits as she tries to seduce him, and it’s obvious to everyone he could just walk off but just… doesn’t.

I’m honestly kind of super amused by this idea, but I’m just kinda sucky with the details, and how the logistics would work. For whatever reason… sigh, I always get hung up on the logistics…

“You may come to realize, in time, that as a pet, a lot of your life will remain the same: I will keep you fed, housed, and well cared for. We’ll spend time together. The main difference, you’ll find, is… a certain restriction on your freedoms that you didn’t have before, things I allowed you that you’ll no longer have…”

I trailed off, before reaching under Miranda’s chin with a finger, forcing her out of her slump to maintain eye contact with me.

“That is, if you’re a pet in good standing. If I find your attitude disrespectful, though, I’ll be forced to take action. There are lines a human can cross that pet are not allowed, after all.”

I sighed. “Of course, this is hard because it’s still you Miranda. There is only so much I’m willing to do to you compared to others, and that could make disciplining you… difficult.”

For a moment, hope flared into her eyes. Then I continued.

“Do you know what one of your biggest mistakes is, Miranda?” I asked. “About the situation we’re in?”

I paused, then clarified. “Beyond the obvious, of course.”

I watched the hope began to flicker and fade, but she didn’t respond. After a moment passed, I continued. “The fuss you made over Amber and Mia. The worry. The concern.”

I gazed deep into her eyes, watching the hope be snuffed out, the bleak despair being overtaken by a fresher, rawer fear.

“Yeeess.” I hissed gleefully, lifting my finger and forcing her to her feet. “If you doubted your ability to manage me, you never should have mentioned them, never should have brought them here. I know the Kennel was unpleasant, but I think you’ve realized by now that I can be worse if I feel the need. You thought I would protect them, but in reality? All you’ve done was give me a weakness to exploit, painted a target on their backs.”

At last, Miranda found her voice. “No… Ian, no please! They’re innocent! They didn’t do anything to you, they’ve tried to please you, Ian pleas-”

“You’re right.” I interrupted. She stared blankly at my response. “What? You are. They’ve bent over backwards to try and comply with my demands, and I’ll admit I’m happy with their attitudes. They’re attractive, willing little toys who would do just about anything for a cookie; what’s not to like? The thing is, Miranda, is that doesn’t matter. They could actually worship me as a god, with prayers and rituals, and they’d still be just as disposable to me as they are now. I may have grown attached to them, and I may regret the act, but you’ve helped me realize that, in one short car trip, I could easily go find two new toys to replace them, or more, even. There’s always going to be more Mins, after all. Ones just as desperate to please, ones so pathetically afraid and hungry that they’d willingly crawl into my mouth just for a chance to eat whatever leftovers remained…”

I stopped and considered what I just said. “Actually, that does sound kind of hot. I think I might want to try that later. But I’m wandering off topic here: while they are good little Mins, that fact only does so much for them. It’s what you think of them that makes their lives have any weight to them. Which, coincidentally, brings me to the next point.”

Reaching out, I scooped up Miranda by her butt, settling her next to my body as I tucked Sydney under my arm. “But first, let’s take this to the table. I think we’ll want the room.”

I had gone and collected a few things before I had returned to the chair, and I could see Miranda take in the new additions to the table top: the box where I had gotten the outfits out of… and a large cage. One just large enough for her to stand in, with its door hanging open invitingly.

Near the top, a water bottle was attached at just the right height for Miranda to be able to drink from its metal tube, while a currently empty tray for food sat on top of a soft bed of litter, the only other feature in an empty environment. To complete the picture, a simple clip hung from the door, one I could manipulate easily, but still requiring more force than even Sydney could muster to open.

“I had a couple of weeks before my house was ready,” I explained to Miranda as I reached my usual chair, “And I decided it would be for the best to prepare for almost any eventuality. I didn’t really think I’d need it, but now I’m happy I thought ahead so much.”

Gently, I deposited Miranda onto the table, where she scrambled to her feet uneasily, before putting Sydney back onto my lap.

“You know, Sydney, you’ve started to grow on me.” I mentioned almost absently as I began to stroke her back again. “Under the circumstance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate you from Miranda, but you’re turning out to be a great little lap pet all the same.”

There was something unbelievably soothing about petting something so soft and warm, and way she rested perfectly in her new place.

“But now that we’re all here, I think we should turn back to the subject at hand.” I began, turning back to Miranda.

“Amber and Mia. Your friends… or should I say, your ‘friends’? They’re disposable to me, Miranda, but I’m curious: what do they mean to you? I know I call them your friends, but are they? Do you actually like spending time with them? Or they a burden, an obligation? A symbol of your guilt? Or perhaps are they even less than that? Do you just like having little toys of your own, Miranda? Little helpless creatures so desperate for help that they’d even take the person who ruined their lives as a protector? That’s what we’re going to find out, because now we’re going to play a game.”

I smiled a shark’s grin, toothy and filled with anticipation, and she shuddered. “I call it Sacrifice, and for now, Sacrifice is how we’ll clarify your new living situation. Sacrifice, you see, is a game with real life consequences, with penalties that will be very real. And the first thing you need to do to play is simple: strip.”

Miranda’s eyes widened, and she backed away, holding up her arms in a futile defensive moment. “What? Ian, no-”

“Ian, yes.” I interrupted. “But don’t worry, Miranda, it’s completely necessary. How can you understand the cost of losing something when you still have it? But before you can object, like you always do, I need to make something clear.”

Reaching out, I pushed two fingers into her stomach, and she let out a delightful little sound of surprise as she fell onto her butt.

“You, Miranda, are being punished. Normally, I like it when you struggle a bit, fight, complain. Show me that spirit I fell in love with. But right now? Every time you defy me, every time you disobey, every time you refuse? I take something away from you, or the others. I’ve taken a lot of things from them, Miranda, and there’s only so much I take from them until there’s nothing left. So, if I were you, I’d think very carefully about your choices.”

I leaned back in my chair, removing myself from her presence, as she got back up. I wanted whatever to happen to be by done by her own hands.

“So, Miranda. Clothes off.” I tilted my head. “Or do you want to see what happens?”

As it turns out, Miranda did not want to find out what happens.

“Good.” I crooned gently as she reached for the back of her dress. “Good girl, Miranda.”

It wasn’t a strip show, sadly; Miranda took of her clothing in as efficient way as she could, all the while staring at me with soulful, tear filled eyes, silently pleading for what she didn’t dare to ask. As she finally removed the dress, I stared at what she revealed, the tiny intricate underwear, all transparent silk and lace adorning her body, attracting the eye in just right way.

She looked significantly less pleased with my enraptured attention to her outfit than she had been earlier.

“Stop there.” I commanded. “And get those shoes back on.”

Confused, she put the heels back on. I didn’t explain the reasoning, yet. That would be later. Next up…

I laid my hand, face up onto the table, halfway between where me and where she stood. “Bring me the dress, Miranda.”

At that, she started to open her mouth, only to close it in sudden realization. Instead, she reluctantly picked up her outfit from the table and walked towards me on shaky legs, only to stop at my hand.

Miranda looked me said a single, almost sobbing word. “Please.”

It had worked on me before now; again and again and again, I had folded before her desperation. Now I only raised an eyebrow in the air as I asked a simple question.

“Do you think I won’t?”

Miranda broke then, just a bit. She stayed standing, but she sagged in place, her body going limp, tears now falling from her face. I don’t think she even realized she had dropped her dress, or that it had fallen into my hand, until I spoke.

“Good girl, Miranda.” She straightened up at the sound of my voice, in that same way I had seen from the other: at attention, arms behind her back, chest out, head tilted submissively

A beat past, then I saw her move past her unconscious reaction, staring at her now empty hands, and then mine, as she realized what happened.

“You did well.” I continued warmly. “I know you’re having a hard time listening to instruction at the moment, but don’t worry, we’ll get through it together.”

I reached out with my free hand and gently stroked a finger against her cheek; she sighed gently and leaned into my touch, so engrossed by the sensation that she failed to notice the first hand put her dress back into the box. I could have stopped there, but instead, I caressed her hair, a smaller, kinder smile on my face.

No matter what I tried, the bigger gestures I made for her had never gone over well; she had stressed, struggled, and worried every step of the way. It was only moments like these, smaller in scope, with simple physical affection and praise that she truly seemed at peace.

It made me wonder: did she even want to live a life as a person? To face the complexities and hardships of trying to charter her own way in life, against the limitations of being a Min? To try and act an equal against people, beings that physically were so far beyond her to make her seem as nothing and that her mind couldn’t even conceive of being human?

Or did she, somewhere deep inside, want to be owned after all? To live the life of a pet princess, spoiled and adored with a tiny toy crown on her head? Cared for, clothed in finery, fed off her Master’s own plate and carried to and fro, all without worrying about anything more than her own happiness and doing what she was told?

On my lap, I could feel Sydney’s body being lifted up by the power of my erection, the way she adjusted herself around it. It only made me feel even hotter.

“I’m proud of you, Miranda.” I said. “I’m so proud. Are you ready for the next step?”

She frowned as I removed my finger, before tentatively nodding.

“Good. Good, Miranda.” I paused. “Now, get in the cage.”

She jerked. “N-” she began, stopping herself before she could violate my taboo, only to began to beg. “Please. Please Ian, please don’t do this, please!”

I held out my finger again and Miranda rubbed her face against it, almost frantically, hoping it was a sign I’d listen to her and we’d go back to what we were doing before. It was a tempting thought, true, and something I’d love to explore.

But all of this was about proving a point.

I gave her a minute to lavish me with affection before speaking. “Wait any longer, Miranda, and I’ll take that as disobedience.”

She flung herself away from my finger like it burned her, staring at me in betrayal. She stared up at me, and mouthed, ‘please’, one more time, before her nerve broke. Letting out a horrified cry, she turned on her heel and ran into the cage. Once she made it inside, she fell to her knees upon the litter and sobbed into her hands.

“Good girl, Miranda.” I soothed. “Good, good girl.”

Under the sound of my praise, her tears slowed and she looked back to me hopefully. “You did so well, didn’t you? That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Isn’t it nice to listen to me? Isn’t it nice to make me proud?”

I watched her sniffle, and wipe away the rest of the tears before she got back to her feet. Despite the fact she was standing in a literal cage, she smiled at me, happy with her simple treatment and my basic kindness.

It was almost sad to manipulate her so easily.

“Be a good little pet, Miranda, and close the door.” She paled. “Close yourself in the cage, Miranda.”

She shook, for a long, long moment, but then she took a step forward without me having to say anything else. Then another, and another, until she stood in front of the cage’s entrance. She reached out towards the door, only to stop again, hesitation clear on her face. She looked at me, then, then the cage, then at me again.

Then Miranda, without me having to do anything more than speak, closed the door, sealing herself in a cage of her own free well.

Immediately, she grabbed the bars, as if to undo what she had just done, and wept hysterically before she began to scream.

“No. No. NonononononoNONONO!” As I reached out my own hand to pull the cage towards me, her panicked cries gained a new focus.

“Ian! Ian! What did you do to me? What did you do to me?!”

“Me?” I asked, as the cage arrived before me. “Nothing, Miranda. Absolutely nothing.”

Calmly, I grabbed the dangling clasp and locked the door with a smile. “You did this to yourself.”

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.

@drek
Thanks! It’s great to be feeling better again, and it’s certainly helping be productive, lol.

And would you believe I’m kind of winging this entire thing? I’m glad to hear it’s still working out!

I returned to my chair to find Miranda still where I left her: on her knees on the arm of the chair, eyes red with tears.

“Good girl.” I told her again, more enthusiastically this time. “You did just as I told you! Good job!”

Settling into my char, I placed an elbow in front of Miranda and my head against my fist, allowing me to easily loom over her.

Thinking for a moment, I turned my to observe the other arm of the chair. “Ah, Sydney. You’re still there.”

If Miranda hadn’t left her spot since I had left, I wasn’t sure if Sydney had moved since I had placed her there. Casually, I picked her up and plopped her face down onto my lap. She started a bit at first, but I began to brush my hand against her back, and she stopped squirming after a moment. It was almost adorable to watch her curl up slightly, knees towards her body and her head on her arms, as if she was ready to take a nap then and there.

It felt a bit like she had turned into a cat.

After a minute I turned my head back, still continuing to stroke my new pet’s back.

“Tell me something, Miranda. Do you know why I’m mad?” I asked.

She had been watching my interactions with wide eyes, but as soon as I refocused on her she paled. After a second passed, she shook her head slightly.

I sighed. “Alright. Let me sum things up. You, Miranda, came to me because you were lonely and afraid, and hoped to leverage my affection for you into a better life. It worked.”

I paused for emphasis. “For about three hours, maybe. Then you blew up our little bargain at the first possible opportunity, because apparently actually going through with what you negotiated with was too hard for you. After that, things became… unstable between us. I’ve been thinking about it, and I finally realized why: I don’t think you consider me a person.”

Which, I’ll admit, was ironic considering our situation.

Before she could say anything, I shushed her. “Quiet, Miranda. Right now it’s my turn to talk. Although, that is somewhat related: you don’t talk to me. You appease me. You try and talk me down from something, and you try to bargain with me. Every time that you’ve decided to spend time with me, Miranda, you did it with an objective in mind, a goal to accomplish.”

I stopped and thought about my next words before I spoke. “And in the grand scheme of things, it’s not like I mind that, really; if you want to sell me your time, attention, worry and body for little things? I’m certainly not complaining, though it’s interesting that you value yourself so cheaply. But the thing is, after the pizza incident, we renegotiated your situation here, and in my mind, we did built around the idea of us… let’s say courting each. Not that we’re in a romantic relationship per say, but considering one, feeling each other out for the possibility.”

Miranda stared at me, confused but listening. She jolted at my next sentence. “And then I realized you were horny.”

“It’s not surprising, really,” I continued, ignore-ing the way she sputtered. “If nothing else, the last fifteen minutes or so have proved a point about Min sensitivity, and you haven’t had sex with a man since Jarret left you to die of old age in a government holding cell. Of course you’re horny.”

Miranda all but staggered at that, a look of actual pain crossing her face. Even I thought that was a bit of a low blow, but, hey. I was still mad. I wasn’t above a low blow or two.

“And again, it’s not like I’m against that, I mean fuck, I love the idea that you’re horny. I’d like you to be horny all the time, really. But it wasn’t just that, it was the situation we were in that made things clear to me. If you wanted to have sex then, well, that moment was the perfect time to do it. We both know I would be up for it any time you wanted to, of course, but still. The thing is, you didn’t, because you don’t; even if your body is saying ‘yes’, your mind is saying ‘no’. More than that, though, it was saying '‘panic’: you were afraid when you saw me realizing that you were turned on, and that helped me put it all together.”

For the first time since the conversation, I stopped petting Sydney, and used my free hand to poke Miranda in the chest, forcing her a step back. Then, just for fun of it, I reached down slightly and curved my finger around her cleavage, bouncing her breasts slightly against its tip.

She glared up at me, but I saw the fear in her eyes all the same. Moreover, I saw the slight blush on her cheeks, the way she bit her lip.

“You’re afraid, but it’s not about me hurting you. Even Mia realized you were safe from that before she had even spent a day with me. You’re afraid of abandonment, true, but I’m not going to… lose interest after the first time or anything; we’re clearly in a long haul situation here. So that begs the question: what are you afraid of?”

My wandering finger went lower still, between her legs, before rising so high Miranda was forced to balance on it, her arms braced against my hand, with the tips of her shoes barely touching the chair. The glare hadn’t faded, or the fear, but the blush had only grown in strength and she was panting lightly as I held her there.

“It was obvious really, when I thought about it; hell, you told me yourself. You’re not afraid I’ll stop, you’re afraid I won’t stop, that I won’t let you stop. And you’re afraid of that, Miranda, because you don’t trust me to act like a person. You don’t see me as Ian Hunter, Miranda, the man who stared at you just a little too much. You look at me and you still see the dog. You see a gigantic hellhound that hasn’t realized he’s off the leash yet. You see the shark-eyed god that haunts your nightmares.”

I lifted her higher, just enough that her feet could no longer touch anything, kicking back and forth in the air helplessly as Miranda stared up at me, her face completely red, and the anger all but vanished from her expression. Meanwhile, ever so slowly, the tip of my finger grew wet.

“You don’t see me as a person, you see me as a monster.” I stated my accusation calmly, but at this point Miranda was fidgeting so much she probably couldn’t have replied if she wanted to. It was fun, playing with her, but we couldn’t really have a conversation like this.

Regretfully, I lowered her back onto the chair: for a brief instant, she tried to stand, then her legs gave out from under her and she fell on her butt.

“That leads us to now. I’ll admit, Miranda, at first I was angry just out of the sheer frustration of it. Then I was angry that I realized you still didn’t trust me, and it became even worse when I realized you may be right, that I probably wouldn’t stop.” I shrugged. “I mean, why would I?”

I paused to gauge how much she was paying attention to me, and judging by the way her hands were reaching under her dress, it wasn’t nearly as much as I would have liked.

That changed when I slammed my fist down in front of her, and the sound of it was loud enough startled Sydney into sudden wakefulness. Miranda scrambled back from my hand so hard she nearly fell off the chair before she caught herself.

“But I’m livid, Miranda, because I realized I couldn’t have what I wanted. You may not know this, but I’m very greedy, and I find it very upsetting when something is denied to me.”

At last, I lowered my head from my hand, lowered it so far that I had to turn it so one of my eyes could focus in on her.

“You are mine, Miranda, do you understand me?” The words came out like a snarl, my voice echoing the frustrated anger that filled me. “Mine. I own you, Miranda, all of you. Every single inch of your body, every strand of your hair, every tear that falls from your eyes, every cry, every scream; all of them are mine, Miranda, mine by the right of law, by your own hand, and by dint of the fact you can’t stop me from doing whatever I want to you. All of it! All of it is mine to adore, mine to protect, mine to do with whatever I please! But there’s more in you, Miranda, than just the things I can hold in my hand. There’s more that I want and I can’t get it!”

By the time I finished, Miranda had begun to hyperventilate, utterly still in a way that spoke of her body locking up in sheer terror. I found myself staring at her, at her fear, and licking my lips at the sight of it. I remembered again how confident she was when she compared me to the dog, the way I had drooled at the thought.

The way she had laughed.

I forced myself to stop, made myself turn away, and spent a minute or two simply stroking Sydney to calm down. She had woken up completely at this point, watching me with a wary eye, but as I pet her again she began to settle down. Eventually I felt rational enough to continue the talk. Turning, I saw that Miranda didn’t seem to be, but I continued regardless.

She didn’t need to speak, after all. Just listen.

“The thing is, Miranda, I can take your body, I can do whatever I want to it, but I want more: I want you. Your happiness, your love, your affection… everything. And that’s something I can’t simply take. I can’t make you love me, but … I had some hope you could grow to love me, in time.”

I pursed my lips. “So you can understand my frustration when I realized we seemed to be thinking different things, and that, as things stood, that couldn’t happen. You’re not going to fall in love with me like this, Miranda. At the idea of me, maybe, at what I represent, but that’s not the same. I could get close, I suppose, if just broke you and taught whatever was left utter devotion to me, but if I did that you wouldn’t be you anymore, and that’d just be missing the point.”

I sighed. “I wanted you… as a girlfriend, if I had to name it, or maybe my wife, and in that vein I treated you in as someone who could become that, as a human being. As things stand, that’s not going to happen, so I’m going to settle for having you as my pet. If I can’t make you fall in love with me as a person, Miranda, I can at least make you love me as your Master, as the god you worship and fear. Needless to say, your situation is going to have change to reflect that fact.”

As the last of the rage faded and my heartbeat dropped down to normal, I felt a peculiar sense of peace fall upon me. Post Rage Clarity, maybe. Regardless of its origins, I took advantage of my new-found calm to set Sydney on the right arm rest, before dismissing her to turn to Miranda.

She was there, still, though she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else from the look of overwhelming horror on her face as she started at me. Probably, she was too afraid of what would happen if she ran. Miranda had climbed off my leg at some point, and was crouched down at the farthest corner of the arm rest from me she could get: realistically, that was less than a foot of distance, and still well within my grabbing range, but the thought behind it was clear. She also had managed to tear a hole in her stockings, and that marvelous dress was wrinkled now.

“Miranda.” I said finally. “Come here.”

She hesitated, only to flinch as my voice lashed out. “Now.”

At that, she straightened up, and began to walk towards me, face blank, body trembling, and her arms held around… ah.

Once Miranda drew near enough, I flipped my hand over and held in the air, waist level to her. I waited a second, but she only stared at my hand warily.

“Miranda. It’s time to put your toys away.”

It wasn’t a statement, and it wasn’t an order: it was a command, one that left her no choice but to comply. Unconsciously she reacted to the authority I had put in my voice, body going ramrod straight, before the actual orders I had told her sunk in. That broke her already fraying facade, and she looked at me in shock.

“Ian, I-” She began, but I cut her off before she could continue.

“Either give them up, or it gets worse.” I said implacably, and she bowed before the determination in my words.

Full-out shaking now, Miranda slowly placed her friends into my grasp. I took a moment to consider the scene: Miranda, bent and broken, clothes a mess and eyes bright with tears, and her friends, two tiny and insignificant figures, sat huddled in the palm of my hand.

It felt good, and I savoured that feeling before I continued.

The outstretched hand then became a fist, fingers folding over their victims and trapping them in place. She let out a half hearted cry at that, a “please” that trailed off before she could finish the word, and an outstretched arm that dropped before she could even touch me.

Moments later, she dropped to her knees, while In the darkness of my hand neither of the lesser Mins dared to move.

I let the silence sit briefly before I spoke again. “Good girl.”

Unlike the last time I had said it, Miranda didn’t fight the words, only slumping slightly in shame, even as her cheeks grew pink. I studied the expression briefly before I continued.

“Stay.” And before she could respond, I rose from my chair and walked away, leaving her stranded on the chair.

xxx

Fundamentally, a Min House was nothing more than a doll house taken to it’s logical extremes, in a world where people grew small enough to fit in them: electricity, water, cold storage and functional furniture, everything a Min could need, all presented with the comforting illusion of normality to help shield them from the cold realities of their new lives. At first glance, it resembled nothing more than a normal house, but the more you examined it, the more the abnormalities began to show a far different picture.

There were no doors, inside the house or out, only the rectangular openings where a door would hang. The wall in front protruded several inches over the single entrance inside, and from the middle of the squared off roof rose a handle. The most obvious, and ominous, difference were the three windows: they were massive, compared to the rest of the building, and almost completely replaced the three walls they part of, leaving only the front wall solid.

In truth, the Min House was more like a furnished aquarium than an actual house, and it reflected a simple truth that the Mins probably tried not to think about, even as those lucky enough to live in one were reminded daily.

At the end of the day, Min Houses, like doll houses, were nothing more than toys made for their owners, no matter much they pandered to the toys that lived, or were trapped, inside them. I unlocked mine easily and swung open the outer section on its well concealed hinge, leaving the rest of the house and the base it was built on open for giant hands to easily access.

“Here’s the deal,” I began. “Miranda’s in trouble, and you’re all paying for it. Because of that, I’m confiscating some of the things I’ve been lending you.”

The Min House stood two ‘stories’ high, and was fully furnished with rugs, carpets, chairs and couches. In all honesty, it was probably more luxurious than my house was.

That changed when I began to remove the contents, piece by piece. First the rosewood dining table, with engravings so fine I could barely see them, was set to the side, before I took the rug that had sat under it and place it on top of it. Then the leather (or pleather?) couch was sat next to the table, followed by the plush chair…

By the time I finished, the pile of furniture rose higher than Amber, and both of the Mins were looking inside their barren home with pained expressions. Finally I grabbed the first bed, and held it for a minute before putting it front of my prisoners.

“Here.” They looked at me cautiously, and I elaborated. “Take everything off; sheets, blankets, pillows, the whole lot.”

After they stripping the first bed, I placed the other nine next to it, watching without comment as they reduced each one to nothing more than mattress and frame. Once they finished, I placed the pile of bedding back into the house.

“Good. Next, take care of yourselves.”

There was a moment of stillness, before Mia awkwardly raised her hand. “Do you want a show or…?”

I considered it. Tempting, tempting, but I had things to do. “Not right now, no. Maybe later. Just take the clothes off.”

I watched them as they peeled off their close fitting outfits in a quick, business like fashion. Even without any dramatics, I found myself licking at my lips at the sight of it, and I stepped in as they began to take off their bras.

“Stop.” They froze at my words, staring at me in confused fear before I continued. “Leave those on.”

It was an impulsive comment, but not one I regretted: they looked fantastic in their underwear, and the idea of the two women in their little cage-house, wearing nothing but their underwear at my whim, was an idea I quickly grew fond of.

In fact…

“Put the boots back on.”

High heels were the best heels.

Confiscating their discarded clothes, I dropped them on top of the furniture stack, before turning back to the Mins.

“You two are going to be locked inside until further notice, pending me reaching a new understand with Miranda. I’ll check in on you every once and awhile, and while I wouldn’t mind a show when I do, this really has nothing to do with you. If it goes on long enough, I’ll think about taking you two out to play a bit, maybe with some food, but you won’t see her until we make up. Understood?”

They both curtsied. “Yes Master”, they said in unison. “Thank you, Master.”

I nodded. “Good. Now get inside.”

Obidently, they filled back into their home, making sure to stand far away from the edges as I put the house back together. Once I finished sealing up the Min House, I pressed a button below the handle and watched the front wall fall down, revealing a final window as the ‘door’ disappeared.

I observed for a minute, watching the two of them walking around while trying to ignore my face looming above their windows, before I nodded in satisfaction.

Good. Now for Miranda.

---

Alright, I’ll admit that Miranda was supposed to be dealt with here, but that little world building session kind of dragged on and this felt like a good place to stop. Next time, I promise.

Before Sydney could speak, I pressed her onto her back.

“But that,” I said over her startled yelp, “Is a conversation for another time. This isn’t about you and Miranda, not now anyways.”

I smiled as I grabbed one of her legs. “This is about me.”

For a moment, I toyed with it almost absently, as I had with Miranda not too long ago. But that was then, and this was now.

Deliberately, I moved my grip higher, and brushed against the inside of her thigh.

“You know, Sydney, I’ve been wanting to cut loose for awhile now, but I’ve held my patience for all this time.”

Time that could be measured in days or years, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Either way, it was far too long for my tastes.

“But I’m done waiting.” I continued as I stared down into her uncertain expression.

Miranda wanted a show, and I was happy to deliver.

I flicked my finger lightly towards the space between her legs and she yelped again, now with pain mixed with the surprise.

“And I’m ready for some fun.”

Slowly, I pressed the tips of my fingers against her skin and dragged them across her. Up, down, to the sides, I followed a winding path wherever I pleased, tracing the patterns I felt within her: tiny muscles, oh so fragile bones, the borders of her chest as it expanded and contracted with her every rapid breath.

Eventually, I broke the tense silence. “I’m curious, Sydney. You hear all sorts of rumors about Mins, but there’s one in particular I’d like to hear from the source, as it were.”

My wandering hand finally paused, fingers posed at the top and bottom of one of her breasts.

“Tell me, how does it feel when I do this?”

Sharply, the fingers slide to the top, pinching her nipple between them.

She screamed, this time.

“Pain and Mins, apparently, is a hotly debated topic. Some say that it’s… naturally erotic to you, that every Min is a natural sub that wants to be toyed with and tortured.”

I let go as a finger began to circle her tortured nipple.

“Others say it’s a matter of training. That you can just teach a Min to enjoy the pain, if you work at it a litte.”

“I’d like to settle that question, once and for all. So answer me this: was that a good pain, or a bad one?” I asked, before adding with mock solemnity, “And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.”

“It was a bad pain, Master!” Sydney cried. “A bad pain! P-please don’t do it again!”

I nodded. “Good, good. That’s exactly what I want to hear: nice, clear answers.”

I was only half joking. There were lots of rumors of Mins and their sexuality; and while it was generally agreed that they had a sensitivity that far outmatched that of a human’s, the details from there on were a bit foggy. I had realized early on that only experience would give me some clarity on my unanswered questions, and while I had looked forward to working them out together with Miranda… Sydney would do just as well for this. Besides, with how things were going, it was probably for the best that I worked out the kinks before I got to Miranda.

“You’re being such a good little test subject, aren’t you?” I continued. “What a good toy you are! I think you deserve a reward.”

Shifting focus away from her breasts for the moment, I shifted my hold on Sydney, taking her legs more firmly into my hand as I positioned her so my thumb rested directly on her rear end.

Carefully, I began to knead at one buttock, adding as an aside, “You know, you do have a nice ass.”

Confused and wary, Sydney turned as far as she could in my grip to look up at me, but as I continued my impromptu message she began to lean against my digit instead, letting out a small sigh.

I continued as my thumb moved to the other cheek. “Nice and firm. Even now, I bet you could bounce a quarter off it, though probably not as high as you could before.”

Gradually, my thumbed moved higher, to the small of her back, and Sydney began to almost lay limp in my hand.

While Mins being little torture sluts seemed to be disproved, the fact that they all but melted under a massage was becoming an all but confirmed fact; I had no experience in massage, but Sydney seemed to have already forgotten the abuse I had inflicted on of the most delicate areas on her body just a few minutes ago.

Useful information, to be sure, but it teasing out this information from her body was something I could only call enthralling. You could read all you wanted to about the enhanced sensitivity of the disportionately large nerves in a Min, but that knowledge was nothing compared to the experience of a woman’s complete surrender to a simple touch.

It was a heady feeling, and one that I knew I could easily become addicted too… not that I minded the idea.

Quietly, I moved Sydney down onto my free leg, taking a moment to check on Miranda before I continued. I expected her to be watching me, maybe looking at me with the vicious approval she had just begun to reveal, or perhaps more of the blank non-reaction she showed when I scared her and she didn’t want me to know it.

It was none of those things. She wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, I looked down to find her staring at the raging hard on that had developed as I had toyed with Sydney. And she was blushing.

It didn’t take long for Miranda to realize something was wrong, to look up into my shocked eyes. She paled instantly, and her sudden dread infuriated me, ruining the high I had been riding.

She noticed.

“Ian, I-” she began.

I interrupted her.

“No.” I all but snarled. “No, we’re not doing this right now. We’re not. You-”

I couldn’t finish, instead letting out a long, low hiss of pure frustration. Squeezing my eyes shut so hard that I saw spots, I forced myself to not think about it. I wanted, I wanted her so badly, and she knew that, and she-

“We’re not doing this right now.” I repeated, as much to myself as to Miranda. “We’re just not. I can’t handle that conversation right now. You don’t want me to try and have that conversation right now.”

Or maybe she did. It was an insidious thought, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shake it.

Some distant, almost predatory corner of my mind had catalogued the way everyone on my body had moved when my eyes were closed, and while both of them had shifted in ways that I could only call fearful, neither of them tried to leave. It was, whether they knew it or, absolutely the right move on their parts: I would have chased any runners.

“And thankfully, we don’t have to.” As I spoke, I opened my eyes, focusing my attention on a safer target.

“That’s what Sydney’s for, isn’t she? This is why you wanted her here, wasn’t it? To… handle all the things you can’t.”

That you won’t.

“To be used in your place.”

I turned my attention back to Miranda, and finished venomously, “To be your replacement.”

By the time I finished Miranda looked almost ill with horror and despair, with tiny, diamond-like tears welling in her eyes. It was cruel to prey on her fears like this, to turn her own words against her, but I was feeling cruel.

As a final blow, I proceeded to do the thing Miranda feared most from me: I ignored her, turning away from her to focus on the other woman instead.

At some point, Sydney had decided that it was the perfect time to imitate a deer in the headlights. It was as foolish a decision for her as it always was for the deer, though to be far she had reached a point where in all honesty she had no good options.

I was upset, and was going to take it out on someone, and everyone knew it was going to be on her. There was nothing she could to save herself from me.

When I moved my hand towards her this time, it wasn’t to pick her up, but to pin her in place.

“I’d tell you this is for the sake of our little experiment,” I stated calmly as lifted my free hand in the air. I left it there to let the two of them take it in, to realize what was about to happen. Even Sydney, with hand covering the small of her back, could squirm just enough to look around and take in my looming hand.

From my other side I heard a quiet gasp.

“But I’m not going to bother with excuses. I just want to hurt someone right now, and I’ve decided you’re the one that’s up. You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re just unlucky.” I tensed my arm, only to pause and add, almost sheepishly, “And in all honesty, because it’s going to feel nice. You really do have one spankable ass.”

And then before anyone could react, I let my arm fall. Sydney jerked under my hand, let out a agonized cry that left me baring my teeth in a snarl of delight.

I hit her again. And again. And again. I lost myself to the motion of my violence, to the sounds of pain and the oh so satisfying smack against my palm. Eventually, I stopped, and realized I was panting for breath, and my throat was sore, as if I had been screaming.

Still pressed down against my leg, Sydney lay limp, crying quietly.

I didn’t look for Miranda.

Sydney didn’t react as my hand closed around her before lifting her into the air, and for the moment I chose to ignore her, and focus more on how I had damaged her: not only her butt, but her thighs and lower back were a bright, angry red that almost seemed to throb as I looked at it.

It was bad; worse than I would have liked, but not nearly as bad as I had feared. Nothing seemed broken, or out of place, and I couldn’t see anything breaking her skin, either. There would almost certainly be some nasty bruising, and maybe there was something worse happening inside her, but all things considered Sydney still seemed to be intact.

I had meant to hurt, not maim, and it seemed that even in my frenzy I had kept to that desire. On impulse I brought her to my face, and planted a light kiss on one red cheek, and then the other.

"There there, " I murmered, as soothingly as I could, “It’s all over. You did a great job, Sydney. I’m proud of you.”

Moving her back, I stopped as I noticed something glisten in the light. Carefully, I reached out with a finger and prodded at the liquid that coated the inside of her legs. Sydney’s cries turned into a startled yelp at the contact, and I was surprised to see her legs squeeze shut, trying to keep me pinned in place.

Gently, I extracted my finger from her hold, trying to avoid causing any more damage in the process, and I would have had to been deaf to miss the frustrated whine she made as it escaped.

“Well.” I said finally as I examined the fluid that covered my finger tip. “What do you know? The internet didn’t lie to me.”

---

---

One major surgery and numerous other related health crises later, I’ve returned to tell you all this: I lived, bitch. It’s not an exaggeration in the least to say this is the best I’ve felt in a decade.

So, yeah, I’m back. Feels nice.

Anyways, if my forced time off from doing things was good for nothing else, I’ve got a pretty solid picture of where this story’s going in the future; probably at least… six chapters, if not more, that I know what is going to happen, I just need to write it. Which is more complicated than it should be, but is better than having no idea at all, at least. Let’s all ignore how this diverted from my plans as I wrote it and how that could affect my future planning, OK?

All that said… does this chapter track? I know what I want from this, but i’m not sure Ian’s sudden frustration makes sense as is, from a reader’s perspective. It makes sense to me, but let me know if I need to try to expand on that or if it seems good.

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.

@miss-lillipants said in For vore fans: what's the appeal?:

but I could never disassociate it from cannibalism and I think that is a big part of the non-appeal for me. But framing it as providing nutrients, or giving their entire selves to the pred, puts things into some perspective.

There’s another easy way to frame it: it’s not cannibalism because they aren’t the same species. Either the giant isn’t considered human (perhaps beyond it) or the tiny isn’t (because they’re below it). Even if you acknowledge that they’re sentient, even if you acknowledge they’re a person, they still aren’t human… because no human could that small, that pathetic, that helpless. They’re just… ants, crawling around the floor, little mice praying they don’t gain the attention of the cat, worthless vermin that dare to infest your house and steal your food.

Or from the other end: the giant may look like a human being, but no human could ever be that big, could never destroy so casually, effortless, move so quick for being so big, so they can’t be a human. They’re a giant, a monster. They’re a god, descended from the heavens to pass judgement. They’re a titan, risen from the earth and full of wraith. Etc, etc.

For mouthplay, a lot of the time it’s just an extension of everything else involving lewding an SW; it’s dangerous to the SW, sure, but… everything is. A lot of standard SW sizes could (and do) die to a dick (or pussy), much less a hand, a foot, or… literally any body part. But putting them in your mouth gives you an extra level of control as you cut them off from the rest of the world , with the implicit threat of crushing teeth and that gaping void waiting for them in the back, all while your tongue can easily dominate them. Also, let’s be honest here: an actual SW would probably taste delicious.

Beyond that, though, the reasons extend into the reasons I like vore: TLDR,; power, like almost everything to do with this fetish but more so.

Eating something, as a cause of death, has… something extra to it. You don’t just kill them, you take from your prey, you become more as they come less. Honestly, predation is probably the most primitive, basic, primal power relationship that there is. I’ve always preferred predator to prey animals, the bigger and meaner the better, and looking back at it that interest was probably based in the same interests that lead me to SWs in the first place. Regardless of the actual realities (nature is complicated, gasp!) there’s something inside you that says the one eating another is bigger, stronger, superior to the one that is being eaten, and to devour your enemy is an ultimate form of victory over them. It still applies even if the vore isn’t physical, if you can syphon from them or something; the act, either literal or metaphorical, of taking is the biggest part for me.

On the less violent end, while I can’t really understand the SW perspective, the idea of being so much bigger than someone(s) that they can live inside you, vulnerable and helpless to your actions, conscious or automatic? That, perhaps literally, you are a world to them? That is hot.

Also, I’ve always been an eater since I was kid. Vore vibes with me on that level the same way super powers or monsters that involve eating do.