Posts made by i am insane

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Next, take care of yourselves.”

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

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

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

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

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

In fact…

“Put the boots back on.”

High heels were the best heels.

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

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

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

I nodded. “Good. Now get inside.”

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

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

Good. Now for Miranda.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m ready for some fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

She screamed, this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She noticed.

“Ian, I-” she began.

I interrupted her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That you won’t.

“To be used in your place.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From my other side I heard a quiet gasp.

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

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

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

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

I didn’t look for Miranda.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

---

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

So, yeah, I’m back. Feels nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?”

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Are we having fun yet?