Posts made by i am insane

@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?”

---

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.