Best posts made by i am insane

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

Anyways, hope this doesn’t disappoint.

---

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

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

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

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

That earned me a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled, and Sydney froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged. “I ordered it, obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@smolchlo
If they’re really small, I could easily have a little cage or something at the end, but more likely it’d be more of a bondage thing: the little woman tied up by the string of necklace itself.

Simplest would just be tied by the hands or legs and dangling there, by and by large free to move, (and I’d probably need a lot more practice with knot tying to go beyond that) but there is a long and well studied history erotically tying people up: it’s nice to image a woman hanging from my neck, forced into whatever position I please and utterly unable to move or brace herself as she swings in the air, maybe with some string riding up into some more sensitive locations as hours pass…

@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.

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

---

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

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

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

I lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I may have actually drooled.

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

It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

And she knew it.

“Holy shit.” I said.

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

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

Miranda laughed a sweet, bell-like laugh.

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

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

She laughed even harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

Clearly, at some point that relationship must have changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

“You will never be like the others.”

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

---

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

@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.

@Nyx
I mean, you say misogynistic, but really, it feels like they just hate… humans, really. They turn women into tools for the sexuality, lobotomized them into mindless killers or amoral sociopaths as soon as they’re looking at someone smaller, yeah, but at best men generally end up as sex slaves in GTS, if not just killed. So much GTS stuff is just… ‘what if an apocalyptic meteor was a boob or a foot instead’ or something, like they just want everyone and everything to die. I can count actual gentle GTS stuff I remember on one hand, and one of the first size stories I ever found is a gentle one where the man is basiclly unbirthed into a permanent coma at the end.

It’s very… I don’t know, it makes me think of a death cult, sometimes.

So, in Fate Extella, one of the main characters/waifu is not only a GTS (Nasu is an infamous obvious GTS fetishist, considering how many women in his settings end up gigantic), but is a literal world destroying monster. Yet, most of her interaction is kind, and there’s literally a (text only) sequence straight out of a gentle GTS dream (or an sw’s, considering you can have the mc be a female).

I saw someone on a forum say that Altera woke the GTS fetish in him, then he looked it up and lost it because of what he found. Presumably, in the span of the same day.

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

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

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

And then, softer: “It feels nice.”

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

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

Eventually, though, I spoke up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m aware.”

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

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“There is?”

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

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

I froze at that, and she laughed again.

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

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

---

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

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

So, throughout my SW history, I’ve had a kind of habit of having the weird ideas. So, in that spirit, I think I’ll mention this idea I had recently:

You know how a lot of pics on this fetish revolve around handhelds? Take that to its logical conclusion: a giant hand. Just a giant hand. Picture Thing from Addams Family, but giant sized, and maybe mix in some magic for some quality of life/logistics stuff.

In a some fantasy setting, a poor damisal (newbie adventurer, recently de-kingdomed princess, what have you) is wandering around, lost and frightening, in a wasteland, and is attacked! By some savage beast of some sort.

She faints… and wakes up in a dark but well furnished cave, rescued by our hero.

The idea kind of revolves around the contrasting perspectives of the giant hand monster, who is delighted to have a guest in their cave, and is pulling out all the stops to make it comfortable; ‘Oh, there’s this old chair from years ago! Let me get that for you!’ Let me prepare this monster so you can eat it!’

…Contrasted against The Fair Damsel, who sees this giant hand crawling on the walls and other creepy shit, but is trapped with it because it lives in a hellhole and she couldn’t survive leaving. In fact, through in a escape attempt or two where she gets her life saved, even, in that classic SW fashion, to help realize her ‘captor’ isn’t so bad.

Anyways, they’d learn to understand each other and bond, as two lonely people do when stuck together. Maybe Fair Damsel contributes her skills in having human sized hands, along with actual skills, to do something for the hand. Clothes? Working with some normal sized tool or artifact? Beyond that… when you think about it, there’s actually of surprisingly intimate things that could happen with only a hand involved, if I wanted to go that direction, and I don’t even mean in a sex kind of way.

Anyways, was curious to see if anyone else was amused by this concept while I mull it over.

@Olo
shrug
Doesn’t look like it, yet, but there’s a what looks like a normal woman underground doing a similar job for… the Kongs?

Also, they’re slowly breaking away from trying to make this ‘realistic’, so they might get there once they focus on Mothra again.

“Oh?” I mused.

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

Why would she protect her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will allow it, just this once.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Are we having fun yet?

@tiny-ivy
Hmm. Originally, the ‘plan’ was ‘it was just a hand’ but now I have Ideas.

Weird ideas, true, but still.

I’m picturing one of those lonely tower-y kind of wizards, all hermit-y like, but he’s a giant, and he’s sending out semi-sentient body parts to learn for him, so he can multi-task learning a bunch of magic at once, but then the Damsel, like, kisses a finger because the hand is kind to her and she’s probably a tad Stockholmed, he goes ‘Wait, what?!’ because he’s still connected and pain is fine but that was unexpected, and drags his hand back, and the woman with it.

With a first impression of, ‘What did you do, hand, and why do I keep wanting to pat it?’

And he doesn’t know how to care for a tiny person, so he calls an old friend for advice, and it’s this big catalyst for opening up again on his end, while the damsel gets to love an actual human-like person, and also a better life than in a cage.

So, trailer just dropped for the new Godzilla Kong movie. While they’re apparently trying to emphasis the kaiju as actual characters more (which is good, and one of my big issues with the series), the more relevent thing for us is the new villain: Scar King.

A giant orangutan (apparently; also, they’re supposed to be another kaiju maybe), he’s also running an empire, to the extent he’s on a throne? He’s ruling over other Kongs, shown by him roaring to assert dominance over them… and more interesting, there’s a second of him doing that same ‘asserting dominance roar’ on a beach filled with people… which is notable, because outside of Ghidorah, the kaiju generally don’t care about random people, unless they do something to stand out.

Between that, and what looks like more of an emphasis on the more traditional ‘people living with kaiju’ the Japanese movies used to have, this could have some interesting stuff for people into Kong and the like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wyqrlkF1Cs

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.

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…

(spoilers for Destiny)
Yeah, I can’t figure out how to get it to, like, have a youtube window up here, but here’s the link:

https://youtu.be/nMvyBPFEKoA?t=105

Cutscene of giant hands trying to grab some people; it’s really well animated, since Destiny is so big. Not that long, with both guys and girls running, but I thought people would like it; the first one in particular, where it breaks through the wall I think is a really nice, ‘the giant is coming to get you’ kind of image.