Posts made by i am insane

An easy way I can see to make it fun is to use on of the more common vore/shrinking fetish tropes for it: eating parts of them, or licking them, to shrink them.

It’s not even that hard, honestly: a soul would presumably be made out of energy, right? Energy in the shape of an attractive woman? What happens when there’s less energy? The shape remains, but the scale is reduced.

So, something preying on ghosts could feed on their target, be it by biting, licking, or even sucking their life out as they kiss or what not, and as they do their prey shrinks. But it’s more than that, because a soul is more than just energy, after all. It’s all that the person is, was, their mind and memories. So as they are fed upon, they become… less. Remember less. Desire less.

Until all that is left of them is a creature that knows no other life, no other purpose, than to be the food of the one that did it to them.

I’ve always felt I fell in-between the great ‘SW introducing movies’ eras; I’ve never seen Ferngully, or the more ‘classic’ movies of our people, and by the time there was a new King Kong I had already realized what I liked.

Honestly, a lot of my younger years are fuzzy to me, but this is one of my more vivid memories: back when video games had paper guides, my copy of FFX had an advertisement on the back of the guide for the sequel, FFX-2. The main character for that game was a woman, and one of the features of the game is that you can switch jobs/outfits to do different things, and even her default outfit was delightful, in retrospect.

For context, it was almost exactly this picture, but without the legs being cut off:

I didn’t really get sex at that point, or skimpy female clothing, and honestly wasn’t even attracted to females at all, but that picture got to me. Yuna fascinated me in ways I didn’t understand; her looks, that confident pose, those legs… and how I could hold ‘her’ in my hand. Ironically enough, that guide, well, guided me to the Minimizer’s, and introduced me to the fetish.

All dark macro/micro? No… But I could see some. If I had to guess at a single cause for the desire that kind of fantasy, as a whole, it would probably be… helplessness. You feel weak, so now you fantasize being strong, or perhaps that you don’t have to worry about things because someone is protecting you, or you’re just not in a situation to worry about People Things because you’re not a people.

Thing is, that comes in a lot more flavours than just relationships.

I’ve had many, many problems in my life, and a good portion were from people, sure; who hasn’t? But those weren’t the problems that defines my problems, if that makes sense. Mine, for example, is my body, which is fucking pathetic (For context, I’m now in recovery from another major surgery! Just got back to work recently and I’m still trying to get my body back to normal, and to get my muscles less atrophied from all the not use they were getting), and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that that is why I lean towards GT fics, or stories where the growth/shrinking doesn’t come from a ray gun or something external: because in those stories, I, or the character I sympathise with, is powerful, is strong in their own rights, and not because of something external, or because someone else is weak but ‘I’ am still normal.

I fantasize, of course, and while there’s a non-zero amount of me/a proxy causing pain, tormenting, killing, just because I can, I tend more towards dehumanizing, New World Order stuff. Honestly, that stuff bothers me a lot more than just the simple ‘Haha I eat you’ urges, even if the me in them are actually rather kind, because… well, look at what happening these days. Those fantasies are basically the Handmaid’s Tale, but more sexualized and size related and without the Christianity undertones.

Being sadistic, pop culture teaches me, is actually somewhat common, if never talked about, with the implication of, ‘well, as long as you’re not a serial killer about it that’s probably fine!’. In sitcoms and dramas every once and awhile you’ll see a character suddenly being a kinky dominatrix as a surprise at the end of the episode or whatever, and sometimes that’s bad but it’s never bad unless you actually hurt someone, you know? Wanting on some level to legit take away women’s rights just because they’re women is a completely different animal. Even if I don’t actually want that, the fact that some part of me does… isn’t exactly pleasant.

This is extra frustrating, though, because I know I’m not the only one: on the SW end, the Sylph setting is perhaps the most common in our culture as a whole, and there’s more stories like it besides. On the GTS end… ye dying gods, do you know how many ‘Men are shrunk/women grew because Reasons, now males are lesser beings/pet’ stories I’ve seen? So fucking many. And half the time, if they aren’t being flat out tortured the man will be happy, of course, because they can touch giant boobs or whatever, cheerfully settling into the role of pet as the women almost instantly start going, ‘Oh silly man you can’t do people things! You won’t stay put so I need to keep you in my boobs and/or pockets like you’re a pen!’

All that exists, and I doubt they’re all hoping for real life equivalents of their stories to happen, so clearly that logic should apply to me and I shouldn’t worry about it, or feel extra guilty because my fantasy is more aligned with problems in reality. I know this intellectually, and yet… it’s never that simple, is it?

@giant-me
While I do like the F/f versions, the dynamic in them is the same: the big one gives, willingly, to the little one. It is a gift, willing taken or not, that often helps tie the smaller person to the big one’s will. And again, it’s not like I mind that (when it’s not involving a guy, anyways), but it’s the same GTS format, but just with a woman on the receiving end.

What trying to work out is the opposite: the small one, willingly or not, gives to the bigger party, as part of a process, ritual, whatever, that helps ensure their subservience to the larger party. A bribe, an offering, or the twist I’m working at, as rent.

I’ve been thinking about the inherently sexual nature of breast milk, when applied to size fetish.

It’s not the most common thing, to be sure, but when you see it, it’s a GTS concept, and only that; and oh, sure, I get why. It’s pretty simple to fold it into the style of domination a lot of those fics can get, the whole "I provide your life’ earth-goddess sort of thing, or as a vector for shrinking/growing but… I never see it applied the other way? It’s easy, even: what sort of being supplies food repeatedly to something else, but is inherently inferior that which it feeds?

Cattle. And cow women are a common enough fetish concept, or even just an outfit, but I never see for SW? I mean, there’s the obvious problem of how much is made, but that’s solved simply by my involving more women.

I’m bringing this up because I’m trying to finagle this into a story I’m figuring out (though that’s not quite the angle I’m going with), so it’s on my mind at the moment, but also because I’m curious if there’s any other GTS concepts that can be reverse engineered for SW content.

Honestly? A lot of time I don’t imagine myself as human. Quite frankly I’m not sure I’ve ever really imagined myself as a vanilla human for longer than a minute or two. Human… adjacent comes up pretty often, sure, but I’m not really attached to my humanity, as a concept. Our ability to invent shit is cool and all, but the actual meat is notably unimpressive to me on many levels, and I’d love to upgrade it or just ditch it. Giant, monster, god, eldritch abomination, demon, dragon, robot… depends on my interests at the time, though the common thrust in all these is, of course, that I’m some sort of powerful entity. Aesthetics wise, I have this thing for those kind of tattoos that kind of… trace out someone’s contours? There’s probably a name for them, but I’ve never learned it. Long lines that would… wrap around a woman’s breasts, or emphasis or trace out abs? I like the idea of a human-like me having them, or an SW (or woman who is normal yet small to me) having them.

In the same vein, while I’m male, I’m not… terribly attached to that either, so much as just blandly accept that that’s what my body is. It’s a more recent revelation for me that SW, which I realized pretty early on, though there were plenty of signs in retrospect, I guess. Personally, I just don’t find men attractive, at all, and seeing them in sexual situations is honestly kind of a turn off to me (while I can mitigate it with GT, SM just… grates because the small one, somewhere in my wiring, is what I see as the attractive one, and then it’s a guy and… yeah. Fetish wise, I like GTS with an SW as an ideal scenario because then I like both ends of the equation instead of trying to ignore or substitute one of the members) and while I don’t mind that I’m male, I don’t object to being female in them instead (and thus being attractive, in my own mind), or something that doesn’t do that kind of thing (which honestly just seems like it’d make things so much simpler sometimes).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@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…

Personally, I prefer a mix of positive and negative reinforcement, not just because of how… wholistic it is, but because, well, it’s fun!

Giving praise, pets, headpats or treats for good behavior isn’t a burden, of course, and it’s simple enough to do. A nice massage would be more… in depth, but again, probably as fun for me as it would be for her.

On the punishment end… well, of course there’s some tailoring required to fit, but in a general sense, unless the tiny is really kinky, a legit, painful spanking seems like a good default response. My own kinks aside, I’d value my own tinies, no matter the relationship (pet, partner, toy, etc), too much to actually do any real damage to them, but depending on how much I value them as individuals, options open up. Threatening to do something, however, would be on the table, depending how little I liked them, in ‘dangle them over my mouth’ kind of way. Just… going right up to them and yelling angrily in their faces, considering the volume involved, wouldn’t be nothing either. Isolating them, trapping them in a jar or box or something in the dark for a couple of hours, would be effective, especially if I was really annoyed.

Also something to consider is the fact if I had multiple SWs, I’d likely have some sort of hierarchy going on: my favorites, maybe those in disfavor, and everyone else, and there of course would be benefits to being the favorite. Dropping someone’s status, whether there are others to lord over them for their fall or not, and making them live in a hamster cage with wood shavings, or even full time in a jar, instead of a posh dollhouse, would very much be on the table then.

And finally, I’m the kind of guy who wears necklaces. I’d just love to wear a misbehaving tiny around my neck all day.

“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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, softer: “It feels nice.”

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

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

Eventually, though, I spoke up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m aware.”

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

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“There is?”

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

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

I froze at that, and she laughed again.

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

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

---

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

I lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I may have actually drooled.

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

It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

And she knew it.

“Holy shit.” I said.

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

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

Miranda laughed a sweet, bell-like laugh.

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

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

She laughed even harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

Clearly, at some point that relationship must have changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

“You will never be like the others.”

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

---

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

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

Anyways, hope this doesn’t disappoint.

---

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

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

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

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

That earned me a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled, and Sydney froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged. “I ordered it, obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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