Posts made by i am insane

So, given the opportunity, what games would you play with shrunken women? To be perfectly clear, ‘with’ here means that she’s not on the other side of the board, she’s part of the board.

I’m working on an idea for a story and this came to me: chess or checkers, where every piece is a tiny woman, each in elaborate (or skimpy. Or elaborately skimpy, depending; my example that started this has giants hiring prostitutes to use as pieces, so the apparel would match their budget) outfits with matching colors. Each captured piece goes to the one who captures them, the winner gets all the remaining pieces on the board; no one leaves alone. Or, quite frankly, in a group of less than two digits.

For promotions, in the context I’m envisioning, there’s little crowns to give to the new queens or whatnot to symbolize the change, but in other versions, pieces are arranged by size, and are grown when promoted to match their new roles.

There’s also tournaments, which play by different rules: each player keeps the pieces they capture, yes, but the surviving pieces remain on the board and the open positions are restocked from the large general pool of women prepared beforehand. It’s an elimination style match, so the first out have a fraction of the prizes of those of, say, a semi finalist, and the champion is the one who claims the board, including both Empresses (aka the Kings), who are for that final match prepared with particular style for the occasion… I’m thinking wearing only a crown and covered in edible paint.

Depending on the available pool of pieces, if there’s not enough for later games an equal amount of captured pieces from every one’s pools will be removed to sub in, with a certain minimum maintained so, again, no one leaves alone.

I’m a giant, passing a village/city/town of little people, and I just don’t give a fuck about them, but they’re worried about me. Very worried.

Worried enough that, in their fear of what I could do to them, they launch a preemptive strike against me… which fails miserably. But now? Now I’m pissed off, and while I didn’t start it, I’m going to finish it.

It’s not a war, it’s not even a fight, it’s just breaking toys. Walls are smashed, homes, are crushed, all their resistance against me is completely meaningless as I destroy their lives.

And then they come to beg for their lives, and for mercy from the disaster they caused.

I didn’t look at the dog bed when I woke up. I didn’t know if Miranda was there or not, and I didn’t want to know. Not yet, anyways.

I’m not sure how much the other two saw last night, but if nothing else they sure picked up on my mood: by the time I finished scrambling some eggs on the stove, they were at the edge of the table again, mere steps from the ladder, and all but cowering as they tried to avoid my attention. I left them to tremble as I prepared the table: two small plates, each with a tiny portion of eggs, and a larger plate, where I put the rest of the eggs. It was as I was applying some jelly to the toast that I realized that there was no sign of Miranda, and that for all I knew she didn’t even know I was making food.

I would have liked to say I thought about the decision, but at the same time part of my mind was noting that the eggs wouldn’t reheat well, my mouth was opening to shout.

“Breakfast is going to get cold, Miranda!”

There. Conscious assuaged. If she still didn’t show up, then it was her fault she was going to eat sub-par scrambled eggs, not mine. Amber and Mia, if anything, lowered themselves even farther down on the table at the sound of my voice, but a minute passed and there was still no sign of Miranda.

“Looks like it’s just us, then.” I announced to the Mins, who didn’t seem reassured by my statement, but I ignored their fear and sat down to eat.

Part of me was irrationally, bitterly glad that Miranda was ignoring me: it let me be angry easier, let me put the blame for our… everything on her. Another part noted that if I wanted her at the damn table so bad, I could just make her come: she only had a choice in the matter if I let her have one. She was, it reminded me, not my girlfriend who I was having a fight with, she was the Min I owned. I could blame her for whatever I wanted, do to her whatever I wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it, and that fact was oh so tempting.

The rest of me was just pining for her presence, pathetically so. I knew, in the end, I’d be stupidly happy just watching her go about her day, even if she was ignoring me, and that fact only fed into my irritation.

The worst part of it all was the fact this was all her fault in the first place! I hadn’t expected anything from her beyond annoyance and dismissal, and I had resigned myself to a life of lonesome longing before I had even met with her; it was Miranda, in the first place, who brought up and accepted in the same breath the fact I could and would use her. It was Miranda who plead to me for safety, cried over my kindness, smiled at me with that damn smile of hers, only to all but spit in my face minutes later.

I could deal with getting nothing from her, I expected to get nothing from her, so why did she keep taunting me with all these fantasies of anything more?

Why did she keep getting my hopes up?

I was so busy fuming, only half heartedly eating my food to better wallow in my bad mood, that I was lost to the world around me until I felt a slight tug at one of the legs of my pants.

“Uh.” Miranda began, refusing to look me in the face. “Is… is it too late for me to eat?”

I stared at her, stunned and mouth still filled with eggs, for so long that she took at as a rejection.

“Oh”. She murmured softly, seeming to fold in on herself ever so slightly, before beginning to turn away.

“OK then. That’s… I’ll just-”

I swallowed hastily. “Wait!”

Miranda flinched at my shout, but stopped moving. “Wait! Of course you can eat! I was just… surprised.”

“Oh!” She said again, her tone suddenly lighter. “Thank you!”

There was a pause where neither of us moved.

“Would you… like me to help you up?” I ventured.

Yesterday, I knew, I wouldn’t have even thought about moving her to the table. Today, though, today taking that liberty felt… wrong. Like we were starting fresh, and if I wasn’t careful, I could wreak any chance I had of us having something better than how it had been.

Miranda, apparently, was just as surprised by my sudden courtesy as I was, and stared at me for a moment before smiling gently.

“That… that would be nice.” She said, sounding almost shy.

Slowly, I reached down to her, grabbing Miranda firmly around the hips before lifting her as smoothly as I could. She tensed slightly at my approached, but only that: she didn’t try to run from me, and even relaxed slightly at my firm grip on her body.

Then she was on the table again, and we were both trying and failing to eat, distracted by each other’s presence.

“Oh!” I said, starting to get up from the chair. “I just remembered I got you silverware to use. Give me a minute and I’ll grab it-”

Miranda jerked away at my sudden movement, and I froze. For a tense second we stared at each other, before she sighed and waved me down.

“Sorry about that, I just… panicked a little.” She shook her head. “This isn’t going how I wanted it to at all. Can you just… sit down for a minute? I want to ask you something.”

I nodded before lowering myself gingerly to my seat. Miranda sighed again.

“Ian, I-” She cut herself off, pinching her nose with one hand while holding the other up. “Actually, can you just… give me a minute?”

I officially had no idea what was going on. “…Sure.” I said finally.

“Thanks.” Miranda said almost absently, before starting to pace back and forth on the table, muttering to herself.

A quick glance to the side revealed that Amber and Mia were just as confused as I was, if less worried than they had been before: while it looked like they still hadn’t touched their food, they seemed far less stressed than they had been the last time I looked at them.

She stopped and took a deep breath. “Alright.”

I focused on her as she turned to face me. “Ian. I… it occurs to me that I handled things… badly, between us. Everything, honestly. I didn’t need to make things so adversarial between us. I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. You’ve been doing me, all of us, this incredible favor and I’ve been rude to you in return. I’ve just been in a bad place recently-”

She gestured at her body, before waving her arms out at the entire room, and how vast it was in comparison to her.

“-Obviously, and I’ve been taking it… badly. Which makes this next part even more awkward than it would have been.”

I leaned back in my chair as she stopped for a breath, my jaw on the floor.

Holy shit. She was apologizing. Holy shit.

“I had a hard time in the Kennel,” Miranda continued. “There is very little structure there, outside of some basic rules imposed on us, and so the biggest among us ruled. I’m big for a Min, more than enough to give Amber and Mia some protection, but there was one woman there who was bigger than me. Sydney…” Miranda winced. “Was unhappy with my presence. She felt like I was moving in on her territory, and wasn’t afraid to take it out on me.”

She snorted. “Which was stupid, really, because I wasn’t a threat to her; I tried to fight her when she got in particularly nasty mood, several times, actually, and I didn’t stand a chance. But she did it, anyways.”

She stopped, fists clenched, and I waited patiently for her to continue, barely able to breath.

“I hate her.” Then louder. “I hate her, Ian! I hate that stupid, over sized bitch! I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want to be ‘in her way’! I just wanted to be left alone, and she just-”

Miranda was screaming now, clenched fingers clawing through the air. “I want to make her pay! I want to her to be the one to be afraid, to be the one crying! I want to hurt her, Ian! So much!”

She stopped and panted, catching her breath as I stared at her, enraptured by the display.

“But I can’t.” Miranda continued, suddenly as calm as could be. “I’m here and she’s there, and even if I could get to her, she’d beat me just as effortlessly as before. I can’t do anything.”

She lifted her head to stare me straight in the eye. “But you can, Ian. You promised me, yesterday. You said you would protect anyone I wanted to protect, and hurt anyone I wanted hurt.”

“I want her to hurt, Ian.” Her voice was like a blade: sharp, cold and completely merciless. “Her name is Sydney Wilson, and I want her to hurt.”

For a long moment I stared at Miranda, at her determination, at the weakness that she had just laid before me. This, I knew, was my chance, my choice: I could take this opportunity she gave me, and build some kind of bond with her, or reject it, and her, forever.

I nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

---

Your daily reminder that this is not a nice story I’m writing.

Also, the real reason I’m annoyed at the name of this fic: I’ve finally reached the point where it no longer matches, and at this point, it’s probably too late to change it. Also, I wouldn’t know what to change it to.

This ‘twist’, if it is a twist to you, was something I had always planned to do, but… later. Then again, this fic, both within and without, seems to be about recklessly accelerating relationships, so it’s fitting in a way. I’ve got to say, though, working in the new character with the olive branch to ‘fix’ their relationship (and oh, what a fucked up olive branch it is: torture my enemy for my love!) for their relationship is a stroke of genius I wish I could take credit for, but I have like… only three or four plot points for this entire story. The rest is all flailing and spinning bullshit.

After a while, I turned the movie back on, though neither of us really watched it.

On Miranda’s part, it more the fact she couldn’t watch it: from her position, my arm rose like a wall in front of her, blocking her vision, while also holding her tight enough she couldn’t have freed herself even if she wanted to. And she didn’t; once she got over her shock, she merely wiggled a little, rotating herself until her back was to my arm, before closing her eyes and apparently falling asleep, right there in my lap.

I could have watched it, of course, but I didn’t. Miranda laying there in my arms, so small, so vulnerable, yet despite of that so trusting, was… entrancing. I could have sat there all day, watching that tiny chest rise and fall, the stress on her face vanished, it’s former presence only made clear now by its absence.

Eventually, she woke up, and there was a moment, then, a single perfect moment. Miranda looked up at me, eyes still blinking away the sleep, and smiled, ever so slightly, in a pure, innocent happiness.

It made everything worth it. Everything, all the time and money I had spent, all the times she held my heart in her hands, massive and helpless all at once, as she squeezed, all of it and more paid for that brief instance of peace and joy.

Then, of course, it passed: her face froze in realization, before hardening, the walls rising again in front of me, rejecting me. She sat up, somehow formal and harsh all at once.

It hurt seeing that, a sharp, piercing pain, like a jagged shard of glass thrust deep into my chest.

I felt my face lose whatever expression it had held in response, pulling away, my back straightening from the slight bend it had been in for… hours, probably.

A tense silence fell between us, each waiting for the other to make the first move, both of us unsure how to act. Our relationship, her a Min, me her owner, had been one of sudden, drastic changes, struggling to find an equilibrium; would I be cruel to her? Kind? Would she accept me? Flee from me?

I couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened here would determine the direction of it for the near future, maybe forever, and I… didn’t know what to do. What I wanted to do.

I wanted to take her, break her, dress her in collars and chains as she dangled limp in my hands, make her scream my name, again and again, voice so loud and hoarse and broken it was impossible to tell it was from pain or pleasure.

I wanted to comfort her, protect her, hold her close and keep her safe, serve her food on fine china and dress her like a queen, give her everything and anything she wanted, just to see that one perfect smile again, chasing even the faintest hint of kindness or praise relentlessly.

I wanted to reject her like she had me, to cast her aside to crawl on the floor, naked and thin and dirty and alone and afraid, looking up at me and her friends so high above her, desperate for even a crumb of attention, begging for mercy, for a chance at an opportunity she knew was now long past.

I wanted to rend her limb from limb, feel her flesh twist in between my fingers, to rid myself of this nagging thing that had haunted me for years now, to be gloriously free and unburdened and to never look back at what I left behind me.

I wanted all of it. None of it.

I-

Miranda struck first.

“I-Ian,” she said, stammering in the face of whatever she saw in me, “Ian. I… would you mind if I went to bed? Please?”

Her voice sounded one step short of pleading, and her eyes shone with tears as she tried, and failed, to appear in calm and control.

It occured to me, then, that Miranda had stood at the same crossroads that I had, that she too had warred against her choices, but had arrived at a single perfect answer: nothing. No change, positive or negative, no bridges built or burnt, all the problems and questions between us shoved aside to be dealt with another time.

The status quo preserved.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, cleared my throat and tried again.

“Alright.” I croaked.

It was an unspoken agreement of her choice, and she relaxed ever so slightly at the acceptance.

Carefully, I closed my hand around her torso, my grip slow and gentle. Miranda didn’t resist, but didn’t relax, either, as I lifted her up into the air.

I should probably have brushed my teeth, maybe taken a shower, but I just didn’t have the energy for it anymore; those few minutes of indecision had left me emotionally and physically drained. All I wanted to do was to sleep.

Quietly I turned off the TV, flicked off the lights, and walked into the bedroom, setting Miranda slowly on the nest of thin blankets and fabric I had prepared for her , all of them set on a large, plush dog bed so soft that even her tiny weight made her sink down into it.

Both of us where silent as I changed, unceremoniously removing clothes before putting on my pajamas. At any other time, I knew, this would all be immensely embarrassing for me; to be naked, or just short of it, right in front of Miranda like this, but I just couldn’t muster the energy to feel anything.

I climbed into bed and plunged the room into darkness.

“…Goodnight, Miranda.” I said finally.

She didn’t say anything. For awhile I lay there, waiting, hoping for a reply, but there was nothing.

Eventually I fell asleep.

---

I planned for literally none of this. They were just supposed to go to bed. I had all a little conversation about it planned, and then… this.

It all feels… overly dramatic?

Halfway through the movie, the strange peace between us was broken by a single, embarrassed statement by Miranda, who refused to look at me as she said, with admirable calm:

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

In retrospect, I was kind of surprised that problem hadn’t come up yet; by now we’d been home for almost half the day.

“Ah.” I replied awkwardly.

Pausing the movie, I began to get up, taking pains this time to move her gently as I did so.

“Let me show you the bathroom, and then I’ll just… leave you to that.”

I walked briskly towards the bathroom, absently noting as I did so that Amber and Mia were, once again, seemingly gone. It didn’t matter, though: the Min House came with a fully functional bathroom, a flushing toilet included.

“How it works is simple,” I began, as I reached the toilet and adjusted the seat.

The new section, located between the two pieces of a normal toilet seat, dropped into place. Resembling nothing more than a second, thinner lid, it was mainly distinguished by the small hole near the front.

“When this is down, you can use the toilet and not worry about falling in and dying in a humiliating death. The roll is close enough for you to reach it. I’m pretty sure you can figure it out from here. Try not to make a mess, because that’d just be awkward for both of us.”

I leaned down and set her on the Min seat before straightening up and pointed in front of her at a small plastic object resting against the wall. The clear container on top was filled with water, and the green case beneath it displayed a matching pair of nozzles above a small depression and foot pedals, all sized towards Miranda’s dimensions.

“That’s a hand wash station for you to use afterwards; it has liquid soap and water, so there’s no reason for you not to use it when your done. I’ll clean out the waste water every couple of days.” I paused. “For obvious reason, I’m pretty sure I can trust you to maintain basic hygiene.”

I smirked at the annoyed look she gave me at implication. In all honesty, I was pretty sure she’d wash her hands normally anyways, but if her irritation at me pushed her to do it more thoroughly, I wouldn’t complain.

I jerked a thumb towards the right side of the toilet. “There’s a ladder installed there, so you aren’t trapped there all day. I’ll leave you to it, just come back to the couch after you’re done. And if you decide to take a minute or two to clean yourself up a bit while your at it, I’m not going to stop you.”

No matter how much I wanted to. I wanted to clean Miranda off myself: to run my fingers over her wet body as she writhed in my palms, brushing off the concealing soap suds to reveal the prize beneath… but I was trying to pace myself. I was already playing this faster and harder than I had planned, and didn’t actully want her to hate me. All the good things would come in time.

Striding towards the bathroom door, I stopped and added one more thing over my shoulder.

“And don’t worry, Miranda. I’ll try to make sure not to leave the the seat up.”

By the time she pulled herself together enough to articulate her rage, I had already walked out of earshot of her tiny cries. Chuckling, I sat back in my chair and pulled out my phone. A quick browse through my emails showed that there was no problems with me taking my vacation, the first one in years. I had been getting near the point where I was going to start losing them if they sat any longer, so honestly it worked out well for everyone.

I was scrolling through the news when I heard a throat being cleared quitely.

Look down, I could see Miranda standing just beyond my arm rest, looking at me with a piqued expression on her face.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

“Well, what?” was the prompt response.

I was taking it easy on her. I wasn’t, however, going to let her walk all over me either. Not unless we did it for more exciting purposes, anyways.

She growled adorably. “Are you going to pick me up or not?!”

Instead of answering her, I hummed under my breath musingly, before draping my arm over my chair down towards her.

Miranda stared at my freely swaying hand, then back up at me, then back at my hand.

“What the hell?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but I decided to answer her anyways.

“Grab onto my hand, and I’ll lift you up.”

“Fuck off, Ian!” was her prompt response. I lifted an eyebrow.

“And now you have to grab my hand and say ‘please’ as you ask me to bring you up.”

I could see Miranda bite back her knee jerk response; she always was a smart one. If she gave me more lip, I probably would have had her beg to me to pick her up. Pity.

I really was having a little too much fun bullying her.

After a long minute of what was clearly a fierce internal debate, Miranda walked up to my hand. I helpfully curled my fingers slightly as she wrapped her arms around them, firmly pressing her body against one as she tried to get a good grip. The feeling of her breasts enveloping my middle finger, her stomach sliding against my skin as she moved, her smooth, firm legs attempting to straddle my middle finger were indescribably, and I luxuriated in the sensation as I waited patiently for her to finish.

I felt one of her feet plant itself against one of my fingers, before I heard her spit out, “Please, Ian. Would you be so kind as to lift me up?”

I laughed at her tone before slowly bringing my arm up, trying to keep the motion as smooth as possible.

Apparently, whatever hold she had was far less reassuring to her than she would have liked, because I had barely started when she yelped and frantically began yelling up at me.

“Ian! Ian, wait, I’m going to fall! Oh god, Ian, please don’t let me fall!”

Drama queen. Even at her size, a fall of a few inches wasn’t a real danger. Still, I tilted my hand back and curled my fingers, bringing her up before I twisted my wrist, sharply, breaking her grip even as mine took hold around her waist.

I heard a heartfelt, “Oh thank god,” as I set her, trembling, in my lap. I started to bring my hand away before she grabbed onto it suddenly, a frantic look in her eyes. I didn’t fight her, instead just adjusting my hand so it lay up against her like a living blanket, tucked her securely up against my stomach.

“Shhh.” I murmured soothingly as I stroked a finger through her hair. “Shhh. It’s OK. You’re OK, Miranda. You’re safe. You’ve always been safe. I’d never put you in any danger, Miranda, you know that.”

Gradually, her shaking subsided under my ministrations.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Ian.” she said finally. When she looked up at me, there were tears in her eyes. “Please. Everything is so big now, and I thought I was going to fall and I just…”

She trailed off and began to sob into her hands, only to stop with startled squeak as my hand moved from laying on her to holding her. I lifted her in the air slightly as I moved around in my chair, settling with my legs crossed beneath me, before tucked her into my arms, cradled her gently.

“Alright, Miranda, I promise. I’ll never dangle you like that again. No matter what I do, I’ll always keep a firm hold on you.”

She stared up at me with wide eyes as she realized exactly what I promised her: not that I would keep her safe (though I already promised I had), but that I would never let her go. That she would never be free of me. That she would always be mine.

Yet, even with that startled expression on her face, her body settled down into mine trustingly.

“Now then. Why don’t we continue on with our movie?”

---

So. I’m not doing so hot. Between that, the fact I’m busy and me actully losing my draft this time (though only the small part I had done, thank fuck), and the fact that I didn’t really have any kind of vision for this section, it’s been hard doing anything, much less writing; you would not believe how blood loss makes it hard to focus. And even when I could work on it I just couldn’t get into any sort of productive zone, like I was just flailing around for direction and sweet fuck, I spent so much time focused on the damn toilet of all things, trying to figure out how that worked, and I mean… I don’t actully care about the damn thing, but I’m taking this holistic approach to having an SW and it kept bugging me that I didn’t have a plan how that would work…

Sigh.

But, ash seeketh the ember and whatnot, and eventually, I got there. I’m not really happy with this chapter but it’s nice to write again and get that good rhythm going, and as uninteresting as this is, it’s necessary build up for later.

Hard to remember sometimes, for all the work I’ve put into this, but this is honestly still the set up; hell, this is still just the first day; they all need to settle in more before things can really escalate, and I have some exciting plans for that.

Honestly? For awhile, at least, I’d install myself as a evil thing to appease/protector/patron god, get a system set up where tithes (including, of course, women) are sent to me on a regular basis, my basic needs are met (a home of some sort, furniture, whatever food I’d need, if I needed food) and just… chill. Have fun with shit; have the women read to me, dance for me, whatever.

Stomp an enemy army if it rolls around, have fun toying with any knights that get ideas, tame a dragon or something…

I’m pretty low key, and actually ruling something sounds like a pain in the ass. As long as I get mine, I’d be good.

@the-big-g
One of the things I realized I like about writing this is how many factors that are running in the background: Ian knows a bunch of stuff that you don’t, for example, that he isn’t thinking much, but is affecting how he acts. Yet at the same time, he’s also missing a lot of information himself; he’s operating on assumptions, really, and the same is going for all the characters here. I’m trying to get this feel of motivations and plans and ideas and stuff clashing, you know? Trust and betrayal and hope and all that good stuff.

I didn’t plan for it to be like this initially, but it is what it is, and I’m glad it’s grabbing people’s interests.

Probably should have been mentioned this earlier, but thanks for all the nice comments, everyone! All the good vibes help me a lot with this.

Sorry it took longer than usual, but I’ve been feeling my… everything, lately.

---

I let them enjoy their treats for awhile before I broke up the fun.

“Alright, everyone, I have an announcement: today, we’re having movie night!”

I paused before correcting myself. “Well, Miranda and I are watching a movie, anyways. You two are invited, but I don’t actully care if you show up. You can join us, or watch it from the Min House, or just hide somewhere and do whatever.”

Miranda, bless her soul, had apparently been either appeased or abused enough to not protest my forceful inclusion of her, but after a moment the unspoken spokeswoman of the lesser Mins stepped forward.

“Pardon me, Master, but may I ask what you are watching?”

It was an odd question for Amber, considering the more practical bent of her questions when drawing my attention, but I got the feeling she was… testing the boundaries a bit. Not in a subversive way, but more trying to figure out what I would allow her, find the line so she could stay well clear of it.

Still, it would be interesting to see how far that boldness could go.

“You know, I’m not actually sure.” I said. “I guess I’m open.”

I waited, but Amber didn’t take the bait, merely stepping back with a polite curtsey to where she had stood before. Not bold enough, then, to raise her opinion unless she felt it was truly needed.

“Alright then,” I sighed, getting out of my chair. It was increasingly easy to adjust my arm around Miranda as I moved about, keeping her safely tucked against me as my body moved. Once I straightened up, I placed my free hand on the table, palm up.

“Anyone coming?”

Amber wasn’t the only one doing some testing though: there was something unspeakably fascinating about poking and prodding at the two of them, to see how long their courage would last before breaking, how long before a suggestion, in their minds, became an order they couldn’t refused.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that, interested in a movie or not, neither of them would be interested in being carried to see the movie, not by me, at any rate. Too much fear and (warranted) mistrust, too easy for me to simply close my hand into a clenched fist while they’re still inside, or to take them somewhere they didn’t want to go.

The pair traded nervous glances, and I didn’t have to look down to realize that Miranda was glaring at me.

“I- I mean, we, thank you for your generosity, Master, but… i-if you wouldn’t mind, would prefer to stay here for the moment.” Amber stammered briefly, before adding a quiet, ‘Please don’t’ at the end I think I wasn’t supposed to hear.

Interesting. I would have thought that had read far closer to a command than my unspoken question about movies. Maybe the fear of being held by me had overcame their normal reservations?

I shrugged casually. “Alright.”

And, really, it was. As much fun as it was to poke and prod at them to see how they reacted, I still didn’t care how they spent their time.

My business with them done, I turned and left, still cradling Miranda carefully. After a minute, she finally spoke up.

“What the hell was that about?”

It was more subdued than how she had talked to me before, but the anger was still present. It was, in my mind, a good sign, so I decided I’d give her a straight answer in return.

“…Honestly? I wanted to see what they would do. I asked them a question, because I wanted to see what they’d do with it. What choice they’d make.”

I paused and thought about it again, that small defiance, glaring compared to their short history of cowering subservience.

“And I did.”

As I arrived at my chair, I heard her huff, and it was with a little irritation, and maybe a touch less of a gentle touch than before, that I shifted her in my grip, moving her around until she sat on me knee, facing me as I sat down.

I refrained from reclining, instead focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Seriously, Miranda, you need to relax. I’m not going to hurt them, I’m not even going to touch them. Not unless there’s permission.”

I leaned towards her, my face stern. “Not unless you push me, Miranda.”

She didn’t flinch, but she tensed in a way that made me think she was stopping herself from doing it, and it was enough for me to be sure that I got my point across.

Pushing myself back, I popped up the footrest. “Your little friends are interesting, Miranda, and they’re fun, sure. But we all know this isn’t about them. Maybe it is to you, at least, but not me.”

I picked up the remote and start searching through movies, looking for something… simple. Something I knew already.

I felt Miranda get up, walking forward and sitting down at the base of my leg, back against my stomach, legs almost straddling the width of my thigh.

Eventually, I started the movie, an old favorite of mine: action, plenty of guns and dramatic moments, easy for me to watch in even if I wasn’t paying attention.

Which I wasn’t.

I gave it a valiant effort, I really did, but the sensation of her on my body, her thin form laying against mine, it was… distracting. To say the least.

Not too long into the movie, I moved my arm from the arm rest to lay it across her legs.

It held her closer to me, which was nice. It felt… affectionate, caring. Like placing an arm over the shoulders of your girlfriend, if adjusted for a different scale.

It also let me cover myself, which was something I desperately wanted to do before she noticed just how much I was paying attention to her.

As my arm set down carefully upon her, Miranda glanced up at me with a cryptic look, but she didn’t protest, so I was able to stay that way the entire time. It was nice. It was what I wanted in the first place: to protect her, to keep her close, to keep her safe.

And maybe, just maybe, to have a relationship of some form. Fondness, or affection, even.

It was hard to remember that, sometimes, when I felt her in my hands, the feel of her skin as she squirmed against my grip, so soft and helpless and mine, at last mine.

It was harder to remember when she looked at me, eyes distant and unfeeling, like I was nothing more than a means to an end, a trial for her to endure.

Harder still when she stared up at me, face filled with fear and horror and the realization that she had made a mistake, that she never should have trusted me, that I would-

…

It was hard, in other words. Hard to be kind and gentle when she was so madly alluring and bloody infuriating, and so a moment like this was something I wanted to treasure.

---

Hmm. I feel like I’m at a filler moment, trying to figure out how to best transition to where I want to be next.

…I want a woman in my palm, tiny, completely overwhelmed, utterly helpless and broken, to stand there, to kneel there, and beg.

Beg for her life, maybe. Or the lives of her family, or her friends, or some precious thing, or to save something that without me will be lost.

Not freedom, never that, or anything like rights or fair treatment, because it’s clear that those things are gone, never to return, and to ask for them, no matter how persuasively, is just empty words. No, she knows that, in many ways, this is her last, true free act a free being, or a living thing at all, and this is her last shot for the one thing most important to her and she damn well better make this count, because if she wastes this chance, this one, final chance, her failure will haunt her for however long she still lives.

And so she begs. Pleads. Casts aside dignity, pose and honor, promises anything, everything, if I just do this one thing for her, calls upon any affection I may have ever had for her or anyone who knows her, all her womanly wiles, to worship me as a god, anything.

And I look at her face, broken and pleading, covered in tears, and I choose.

Maybe I accept her plea, and take her and her desperate, pathetic gratitude with me as I go on my way. Maybe I kill her. Maybe I destroy what she loves before she dies, so it haunts her last living moments, or after, to spare her the pain of her lose in some small way.

Maybe I accept, and then do it anyways, and laugh and laugh at how it destroys her, to give her this hope before taking away just as easily. Maybe I say yes, and come back later to do it anyways, and leave her ignorant that all her work was for nothing. Maybe I say no, while actually sparing what she loved, and delight in her sorrow, knowing I could destroy her worldview with a few simple words.

But in the end, it’s all my choice, and all she has are empty words and hollow hope, and I hold her fate, hopes and dreams, just as I hold her, in the palm of my hand.

@morpholiberty
…Huh. I’ve had some thoughts along the idea that the Farmer is a giant, but is still trying to farm and stuff, and because of how big they are they end up taking baths or whatever in that lake right in front of Leah’s house, which is convently located near their house, if I’m remembering right.

Might as well mention it: I’m pondering on an idea for a giant fic. It’s… hard to describe, but I could theoretically make up a first chapter whenever, though I feel like I don’t have a handle on it quite yet.

---

Whenever I grabbed Miranda, it was fast and merciless, like a predatory bird swooping down on its target, hands spread wide to seize and immobilize. Where I grabbed was always less important than the unstoppable nature of the act itself, that I could care her away safely secured in a matter of moments, far too late for her to respond.

In contrast, Miranda’s hand wrapped around Mia slowly, achingly so. Her fingers, millimeter by millimeter, reached the Min and passed her until the woman stood right next to her palm, giving her plenty of time to see them coming, to react. To run.

She didn’t.

Then, and only then, they began closing, finger by finger, from the pinkie at the bottom, which Mia could have potentially jumped over if she wanted to, until it reached the thumb that locked her in place.

As she was lifted into the air, Mia was still stiff and still, clearly forcing herself to be motionless as taken to her inevitable fate, refusing to let herself react in front of me… or maybe Miranda. Maybe both.

When her hand had reached her chest, Miranda lifted herself from her squat and turned to look at me, staring at my face for… affirmation? Signs of weakness? Approval?

Whatever she was seeking, I gave her nothing, and after a few seconds, she turned away without saying a word, towards the woman in her hands.

Then, with all the abruptness of someone chugging down a foul drink, Miranda brought Mia to her mouth and gave her a long lick up the back. In her hand, Mia shuddered, while Miranda looked…conflicted. Like she was coming to a realization she didn’t want to understand.

At my side, Amber made a small sound I couldn’t identify, but I ignored it, instead leaning in towards the scene in front of me until my breath ruffled both of their hair slightly.

Again, Miranda gave me a probing look, which I refused to acknowledge, just continuing to observe her carefully, before turning back to Mia.

A long moment passed where she considered the tiny form she held, seeming to plan her approach. This time, when her tongue emerged, it was deliberate: I could see that her first attempt had cleaned much of Mia’s back off, but it was hardly complete, but she seemed determined to complete it.

From just above the hip the tongue coiled, rising up and to the side, snaking around to the belly for an instant before returning and rising to the shoulder, then turning. Here it paused, writhing back and forth against Mia’s neck as she shuddered and moaned, seeming to draw circles against her dampened skin before resuming its downwards journey, coming to a stop just above the rear.

Here Miranda paused once more, retracting herself from her target, only to lash out at the miniscule ass, provoking a series of squeals from Mia and an exhale from me so strong it blew her hair sideways as it groped and slurped away around. She concluded with a careful nip, taking the entire lower torso in her mouth and closing on it slowly as Mia flailed helpless in her grasp, and I saw tongue dance between the little legs.

As she removed the woman from her mouth and held her out again, Miranda breathed out over the skin she had just tasted, provoking another shudder.

This time, the look she shot me was distinctly amused, and she kept holding it as she turned the Min she was holding until her front was presented.

“You know, Mia.” she began calmly, moving her gaze from her captor to her captive, “I’m only doing this because I have to, because you told me to.”

When she had confronted Miranda before, Mia had been angry, venting a frustration that had clearly lingered there for some time. But I didn’t forget how she had acted before that moment, and whatever confidence her fury had given her had departed the Min, drenched in drool and trapped in the hand of woman I could step on by accident. She shook, arms crossed over her breast and and legs curled up before her, watching her new tormentor with fearful eyes.

It made Miranda smile.

“Everything I’m doing to you now is for your sake, and nothing more.” She continued, lifting her hand, bringing the shaking woman to her mouth.

Miranda opened her mouth again, as if to keep talking. Instead, she leaned forward and took one of Mia’s tiny breasts into her mouth, ever so carefully grasping it with her teeth. She writhed in the ivory grip, making a noise that was either pain or pleasure or both, before Miranda’s lips closed around them as well.

Then she sucked, the gentle force of it still dragging Mia forward slightly before she was released.

“But do you know what?” Miranda asked, as if they were having a normal conversation. “This is actully kind of fun; being the one in control, I mean.”

The teeth closed upon the other breast more loosely than before, but that just made it easier for Miranda to drag their edges across its entire surface, opening just before the nipple to instead lash at it with her tongue.

“But don’t worry, I’m not going to make a habit out of this or anything.” She smiled mockingly at me. “Unless I’m told to, anyways.”

Adjusting Mia once again, Miranda brought her lower half to her mouth, drawing both of her legs into her mouth, carefully using her tongue to adjust their position until she was satisfied: spread wide, each lined over Miranda’s teeth. Then, gently, she closed her mouth, pinning Mia in place with her legs trapped in between Miranda’s teeth, as her tongue emerged to attack the new target that had been presented to it.

Mia made a sound, then, so filled with desire and need that my mouth went dry.

The longer this went on, the more Miranda settled into a rhythm, finding herself again in the masterful use of tooth, tongue, and lip, regaining the confidence she had lost and doning it anew like a crown. She held court on my table, naked, tiny, covered in pizza sauce and imperious all the same.

I’d never seen her so stunning, so erotic.

After a while she grew satisfied with the woman in her hand and stretched languorously, getting up and started to walk along the table and ignoring me to sit in front of the pizza box. Calmly, Miranda leaned back against it, stretching out a leg and propping an arm, holding a limp and panting Mia, regally on the other.

“Oh, Amber!” She called, looking at me with a wicked grin. “Would you be a dear and come see me, please?”

I heard a yip and looked down to see the woman in question staring at Miranda with awe-filled dread, legs pressed together tight and hands folded together in front of her crotch in a way that made her arms squeeze her breasts pleasingly. She seemed to be filled with guilt and desire all at once and entirely unsure of which to feel.

“Y-yes Ma’am!” she called. “I’m coming!”

I’m not sure Amber knew what she had called Miranda, though I could see her smirk grow a little larger in response.

The Min jogged forward forward obediently towards her, only stopping once she stood between her legs, arms folded behind her back. It was only then that Amber seemed realize where she was standing, and blushed as she tried to find a way to look at the ‘giantess’ in front of her that wouldn’t embarrass her more.

“Excellent.” Miranda purred, reaching down with her empty hand.

Instead of grabbing the little woman in front of her, however, she just held it out, palm down and somewhat flat.

“Now take a seat.”

Still blushing, Amber walked forward onto Miranda’s hand, standing awkwardly for a moment before kneeling down upon it. Gleefully, Miranda lifted her up to her face, examining her carefully before she began.

With Mia, she had been aggressive, almost violent at times, pinning her with teeth and throwing her around with tongue, always on the edge of causing actual harm but never quite crossing the line.

With Amber, she was gentle: it began with a kiss, Miranda’s lips taking up much of Amber’s face, backing away before gently brushing her with her tongue, wiping away any part of the meal that was left behind.

Gasping for breath, Amber could only watch as Miranda moved slowly down her body, always avoiding the more sensitive areas, each press of the lips leaving her cleaner and cleaner, yet ever more drenched with drool and stimulated by the careful ministrations of tongue.

Before long Miranda had reached the legs, and instead of kissing it, moved instead to a foot before opening her mouth wide. Slowly, teasingly, she moved Amber forwards, drawing her leg into her mouth where her tongue embraced it. It didn’t close once during the process, instead giving Amber, and me, a view of proceedings, lips carefully covering her teeth. Once it had entered as far as it could, and Miranda had lavished it with attention to her satisfaction, she removed the leg and repeated the process with the other.

Once both of the limbs had had her attention brought on them, Miranda disengaged and moved the now sodden woman back.

In her hand, Amber panted and moaned, glazed over eyes staring up with confusion. “Wh-why did you st-”

“Amber.” Miranda said seductively, causing to Min to shut her mouth so fast I was worried she’d hurt herself.

“Oh little Amber…” She continued, with the smug smile of a soon to be fed cat, “Would you hold out your hand for me?”

It took a minute to penetrate the haze she was in, but once she understood Amber held out her hand eagerly, like she was trying to reach the head that rose above her.

“Perfect.” Miranda murmured, before bending down to take her offering.

Amber’s arm fit into the mouth easily, and I could see it flex inside of the maw, reaching down to grab at the muscle that danced around it, flicking out with deliberate licks to tease at her body. When Miranda removed her, the fingers dug in, trying to take a hold, but all she got was an amused chuckle before the larger Min switched sides, moaning helplessly as she was so easily manipulated.

When Miranda let go of her other arm, there were only two places on Amber’s form left dry, two conspicuous places still colored red-orange as if they had been highlighted. Holding her away slightly, Miranda considered them carefully, a slight smile on her face as she picked her targets.

When she moved, it wasn’t with an open mouth, but with lips once again pursed for a kiss that embraced Amber’s chest as her lithe form gasped and arched upon its fleshy seat, tiny arms reaching out to try and hold the larger face in place before it retreated with a predatory smile, leaving it to lie bonelessly, arms and legs dangling off the edge.

“Amber…” Miranda cooed. In response, the form on her hand twitched, a head turning in her direction.

“Open up for me Amber.”

And with a almost soundless keen of need, she did, and once again Miranda took what she was offered.

I couldn’t see the details, but Miranda stayed there, mouth between two legs that did their best to hold onto a moving jaw far stronger than them, for longer than she had anywhere else. Eventually, Amber’s back arched one last time as she gave out a loud cry, and Miranda gently lowered her down to the table top, placing Mia next to her as she gave out a satisfied sigh.

For a few moments she watched them, a smiling fondly, before rising to her feet.

“So, Ian,” Miranda said as she approached coltishly, “I did just what you asked. How’d I do? Are you…” And here she grinned teasingly, “Satisfied with my performance?”

She startled a bit as I moved, but relaxed as my hand cupped her head, thumb stroking her hair gently.

“You did great, Miranda.” I said soothingly as she leaned in my touch with a pleased hum. “That was a wonderful job. You’re a good girl, such a good girl.”

She remained like that for a few seconds before my words penetrated her smug haze, jolting up with a start.

“I’m a wha-” Before she could get going, though, I swept her off my feet and tucked her into my arm.

“You know, Miranda… I didn’t just order pizza. I got a little something… special as well.”

She made a grumpy noise from near my chest, but I continued cheerfully as I reached for the smaller box I had set aside.

“Something to start off our first day together right, but I was starting to get worried for awhile there. You were misbehaving so badly I didn’t think you’d get any!”

Setting the box in front of me, I turned it so it faced in our direction, before opening it with a flourish.

“After all, Miranda, only compliance gets cookies.”

Not only did she perk up at that, further along the table I saw the two she had left behind start at my words, getting up so they could get a better look at what was happening.

The cookies the pizza place sold were subpar at best, but they were hot with melted chips, and so to the deprived Mins, the disk I held up in the air at that moment must have seemed ambrosial.

“Now, Mia, Amber, you two did marvelously, and kept it up no matter how certain other people,” there was another grumble from somewhere under me as I said that, which I ignored, “And that gives you the first cookie.”

Leaning over, I placed the dessert next to the pair, who stared at it with hungry eyes before glancing back up at me warily.

“Oh, don’t worry; by all means, indulge yourselves.” I said airly, waving them on with my hand, and they didn’t need any more encouragement to fall on the sweet voraciously, smearing dark streaks of chocolate all over their recently cleaned skin in the process.

Not that I minded.

“In fact, you did good enough for a cookie each!” I continued, taking another cookie. They backed away, eyes filled with fear and greed, and I didn’t disappoint them as I tossed it on top of the first one.

This time they didn’t wait before leaping on their new prize.

They really had earned it, and I definitely wanted to encourage such prompt and through obedience, so the overly generous award was a no brainer, even if they couldn’t finish the first one before it grew stale.

“As for you, Miranda… originally, you were going to get a cookie, until you started acting up, anyways.”

At that, there was an outraged howl, but I quickly pinned her to my chest with my arm before she could start thrashing.

“Thankfully, you managed to pull through at the last minute, and so you get…”

I trailed off as I held the next cookie high in the air, and in my arm Miranda settled as she started at it, enraptured as I slowly lowered it down.

“One half a cookie!” I announced, before taking a large bite out of it.

“What?!” Miranda screamed, as I brought the large crescent to her.

I tilted my head in mock confusion. “What? You only did well enough for half a cookie; I think I was pretty clear about that. In fact, it was only your impressive performance that got you this much. Unless…” I mused, bringing the treat farther away as I ‘thought’.

“Unless you don’t want the cookie?” She gaped adorably. “In that case, I guess I might as well eat it myself…”

Dramatically I lifted the item in question into the air and began to open my mouth widely, but Miranda’s frantic rebuttal stopped me from going any farther.

“Wait wait wait Ian it’s fine I wanthecookiegiveittomeeeee!!”

Her complaint turned into a squeal of joy as I handed it to her, wrapping the treat in her arms protectively around as she did so, and in the process making it seem like she was nothing more than a delectable treat herself.

She frowned at the smile that bloomed on my face, and turned herself away to begin to enjoy her own prize.

“One thing, Amber, Mia.” I began. The two Mins looked at each other warily, but didn’t move from their gigantic pile of sweets.

“No no,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Keep eating, I just want to… clear the air about something really quick.”

That got another glance traded between them, but they relaxed slightly, bring small handfuls of dough and chocolate to their mouths as they observed me.

“While I’m not going to promise you two much, I can assure you that I won’t do anything major to you… such as breaking your legs.”

Mia winced at that, but I continued without focusing on her reaction.

“I’m not going to give you platitudes; I’m not going to tell you it’s because ‘I’m a good guy’ or because ‘I wouldn’t do that’, because quite honestly those are stupid answers and I doubt that you’d believe me if I tried one. Instead, let me give you a practical answer: if I was ever to do that, this one here-”

I patted Miranda’s head from where she sulked in my lap.

“-Would never forgive me, and we all know I don’t want that. Moreover, as one of my main holds over her behavior, if she can no longer trust me to not hurt you, she would have far less reason to listen to me, which again I obviously want to avoid. Now, just so we’re clear: I’m not saying I’m not going to make things unpleasant for you, if need be. I can think of plenty of ways to make you two miserable and I will use them if I have to, but of the many things that are in danger here, your safety is not one of them.”

It wasn’t meant to be a motivational speech so much as a simple statement of facts, but still the two of them seemed oddly cheered by my announcement.

“Was there… anything else, Master?” Amber ventured cautiously.

“Nope.” I said, grabbing another cookie, for myself this time. “Go back to enjoying your reward.”

A pleased smile rose upon my face as they did just that.

---

So, it’s been awhile since I did anything close to a sex scene; years, in fact. I’d like to think that went well.

Fun fact: my crappy ass old computer shut down, as it does sometimes, and I almost lost this. All of this. If it wasn’t for that fact that this site saves drafts almost constantly, thank fuck, it would have been gone. I was at the last stages, doing little edits and what not, and I put so much work into doing this that losing it would have destroyed me, and I’m not sure I would have had the heart to try and redo it all again any time soon.

That was a close one, folks.

@littlenichole

To me, a doll house only goes to something, or someone, you treasure in some sense, if not as a person, then as favored pet, or a beloved toy. In such cases, you give them the best because you want to keep them happy.

When they aren’t, when you want it to be clear that this isn’t a home, this is a prison, that’s when you bust out cages and boxes.

has put stupid amounts of time into this line of thought

For me, the ideal SW dollhouse is designed around the comfort of the woman inside… but the ease of access of the man who owns it.

It has all the amenities: water, lights, a bed that’s actully fabric and not plastic, but… there’s no doors, anywhere. There are window, but they don’t open, and are made of tough plastic or whatnot that can’t be broken by such little hands. Once you’re inside the dollhouse, you don’t get to leave without the owner’s permission.

At least one wall, if not the whole thing, is effectively a one way mirror (…somehow), allowing the woman(or women) inside the illusion of privacy, that all they have to do is dodge the windows and the skylight and whatnot and they will be hidden… when they really, really aren’t.

And, of course, the fact it opens: the entire thing is designed with a removable roof and with each wall being on a hinge, to allow for those outside it to easier reach those within.

I feel like I kind of rushed the last couple of posts out just to post them, so I’m trying to take my time on this a bit more.

---

“Ow! Ian! What the hell?”, MIranda swore angrily.

Sprawled out in front of me, undignified and vulnerable, she still somehow managed to look indignant, even betrayed. As if everything that had happened, everything I had done, everything she had said, all of it had never happened.

I exhaled sharply.

It was the only warning she had before I pinned her to the table like an insect on display. There was a moment of surprise, then she began to struggle, but with my finger jammed into the small of her back, there was no way for her to reach me, no real form of meaningful resistance she could pose.

With a casual menace, I brought my other hand into her field of vision, slowly placing the tip of the index finger behind the thumb, before pulling it away to aim.

“I think, Miranda, that you just won’t understand. Not until you’re taught a lesson.”

Then I flicked my finger straight onto one of her ass cheeks.

She yelped, pushing momentarily harder against my hold until I lightly increased the pressure against her, forcing her down.

The next flick landed against the other cheek.

“Ian, I-”

The first cheek again.

“You need to-”

And then the second.

“Plea-”

First.

“No, I-”

Second.

“Wait!”

At that, I paused. After all of this, I had honestly forgotten the other Mins where there.

“Wait, please!” Amber continued, from her position near my elbow, a rather dangerous one for her to inhabit without me knowing.

After a moment of thought, I placed my hand flat onto the table.

“I’m listening.”

While I still didn’t care much about them, I had to admit the sheer… compliance of the smaller Mins had grown on me in the short time I had known them. Perhaps because of their size, they both seemed far more aware of the reality of their new lives, as well as willing to act accordingly, which was an attitude I was willing to support.

“Master,” And again with that word. Part of me wondered if Amber kept using it in an attempt to help warm me to her and her friend. If she was… it was probably working.

“I know you’re angry. But-” And her she paused for a moment, visibly gathering her courage, “I also know you don’t want to hurt her. Not really, anyways.”

I raised an eyebrow. Bold words… coming from her, anyways, who thus far had taken pains to not do anything I could possibly take as defiance.

“If you will allow it, Master, I have a suggestion.”

“Go on.” I prompted. If nothing else, anything to cause her to act so unusually should be interesting.

Amber curtseyed. “Thank you for your tolerance, Master. I suggest you let us talk to her. As you know, Miranda is stubborn. But I think that, if you just give us a little time, we should be able to talk her around to a more rational position.”

“Oh?”

Really, I had no reason to not let them try, but I was curious to hear her reasoning.

“Master, you knew Miranda from… before. And if I may, I believe those memories are stopping her from fully accepting her new position. Talking to you makes her remember who she was, stops her from moving on from her old life. We can approach her from a level she will be more understanding of.”

And here she gestured at Mia who had, at some point, crept up to Miranda, crouching down near her head from a careful distance.

“She’s only known the two of us since we Min’d,” Amber continued, but at that I stopped paying attention to her, mind whirling over this new revelation.

Miranda had told me, she had insisted, that she would only allow herself to be taken by me if I had also taken them, fought every step of the way to see to their needs, even beyond her own. I had thought they were friends she knew from before, and Miranda had just wanted to take them with her when she left, keep one more piece of nostalgia, even after her life had fallen apart.

If she only knew them after she Min’d, though, there’d be no reason for to be so determined to keep them happy at the cost of her own well being. Unless…

“…we can use our perspective-”

“Who was first.” I interrupted.

Amber blinked at my sudden velmence.

“Pardon me?” She asked warily.

“Who Min’d first?” I repeated, “One of you? Or was it…”

From below my finger, Miranda jerked, suddenly, fighting against my hold on her with renewed vigor. Even when that failed, she kept fighting, crying out furiously, desperate to free herself.

“Ah.” I said. “So it’s guilt, then.”

Guilt was her motivation to protect them, not friendship, or love, or to keep some semblance of her time before she had Min’d; she wanted to protect them so badly because what she had already done to them was already more than she could ever forgive herself for.

“…Yes, Master, I believe so.” Amber confirmed. Her tone was bland, and she was carefully staring off to the side, unwilling to meet my eyes.

“But that’s just why you need to do it!” Mia shouted suddenly.

I had never actully heard the little blonde speak before; she had a surprising set of lungs on her for someone her size. At her words, Miranda froze, staring at the woman in front of her with the rapt expression of a deer in the headlights, as if she was too frightened to look away.

“Do you think that doing this is going to change anything!? That throwing this little fit is actully going to help anyone?” She demanded.

“If you don’t do it, all that means is that someone else will. Make no mistake: this will happen. It always does, Miranda. And since there’s no one else around, that ‘someone’ will be him. Have you seen the size of his fingers? He’ll snap us like twigs and never even notice!”

Rude. Not entirely inaccurate, but rude all the same.

“And what happens if he gets angry? Not this mild frustration he has going, but actual, genuine anger? Who do you think he’ll take it out on? You? No matter how mad her gets, you’re his…” Mia trailed off, words failing her as gestured between the two of us, trying and failing to grasp the word to explain our relationship.

“-His obsession or something!” She burst out finally. “Oh, maybe he spanked you a little, but at the end of the day you know he’ll always leave you intact. Me, though? Amber? He barely even knows our names! Do you think he’d honestly care about breaking our legs if it made you regret acting up? You told us you’d protect us, but all you’re doing is trying to get us hurt!”

“Nooo…” Miranda whimpered quietly, tears falling from her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t, he won’t-”

“Stop!” Mia shouted, suddenly looking tired. “Just… stop, Miranda. Wake up and smell the Min Chow.”

She walked forward, falling to her knees in front of Miranda’s proportionally enormous head, hands settling next to each of her eyes.

“We’re Mins. We’re just… fancy pets, now, at best. We take what we can get and we’re thankful for it, because there’s worse, MIranda. There’s always worse. This… thing you have going on with Master? I don’t think you understand how good we have it, now: this is the best case scenario, here. All he does is play around with us, and we get food, water, safety; I mean, holy shit, we have a Min House! An actual Min House! He is spoiling you, Miranda. Everyone at the Kennel would kill to get this kind of treatment that you’re so determined to fuck up.”

Mia let go and stood up, walking a few steps away and gazed off into the rest of the house before she continued to speak, her hands clenched so tightly that the knuckles were tiny dots of white.

“If you really want to protect us, Miranda, then you have to be one to one to use us. Lick us, bite us, step on us; hell, stick us on your fingers like puppets, if you have to! Whatever it is, whatever he wants, just do it.”

It was a persuasive argument if I had ever heard one, and if it enough to finally enough to make Miranda engage? More than worth giving her one last chance.

No one moved as I lifted my finger off her back, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. I’m not even sure Amber breathed.

For a long moment Miranda lay there, her face a picture of indecision, before it firmed.

She lifted herself off the table, got back to her feet, and without saying anything reached forward toward Mia, standing in front of her with her back still turned.

---

Or, where I remind everyone that yes, Mia is actully a character.

And here. We. Go.

So, the flame of inspiration hasn’t died yet, but I need to balance this newfound writing fever with other things. Like sleeping. I keep getting into the frenzy of ‘I know where this is going I need to get there’ and all of a sudden it’s stupid fucking late, and I have yet to win my war upon my own need to rest.

Also, at some point I should probably try to go back and edit everything, but historically, every time I do that I basically lose my will to live. So. I’m not doing that, and you all are just going to have to suffer the shitty quality… yeah.

---

It was fair to say that the situation had gotten out of hand.

I’d always intended to have Miranda live up to her obligations, but I had meant to… build up to it, take her step by step beyond her comfort zone until she found herself fulfilling my every whim and not even thinking twice about it. It was meant to take place in the span of weeks, or monthes even, in a long, patient seduction of sorts.

This was pretty clearly not that, yet I couldn’t actully bring myself to regret that fact. The restraint, the slow pacing had never been a thing I wanted, but more of a gift to Miranda herself. If I cared about her less, I would have already explored, and exploited, ever nook and cranny of her by now, and the more time I spent with her, the more I regret that I hadn’t done so yet.

Miranda, the woman I had low key loved for years now, was a force, someone who could use her sheer force of will and charisma to make anyone submit to her demands. This Miranda, now? She was Min’d, afraid, naked and desperate enough to beg for help from me, of all people.

Miranda was, in more than just the literal sense, less than she had been before; she wasn’t someone to idolize and respect anymore, and I had slowly been coming to the realization that I no longer had to treat her that way anymore, either.

In the face of the look of horror she was giving me, I began tapping a finger on the table, delighting in the way she shrank away from it.

“Tick tock, Miranda. Tick tock. You don’t have forever to make a decision; in fact I’d say you have… a minute left to make a choice.”

Steadily mounting dread filled her expression as she looked from my face, to my finger, it’s steady beat marking the merciless passing of her time, to the faces of her friends, already lowered in surrender.

“Ian, I… wait, you don’t have to do this! Please, Ian!” she begged.

“You’re right, Miranda. I don’t have to do this.” I smiled. “But we both know that I want to.” I paused for effect. “Thirty seconds.”

At that, she fell to her knees and begged. Actually begged, tears falling from her eyes and her arms spread beseechingly. “Ian… I came to you for help! You said… you said you take care of me! Ian, please!”

“Miranda… you don’t get it, do you?” I muttered affectionately, “I am taking care of you.”

There was a startled yelp as my hand moved in from behind her, gently bumping its heel into the back of her knees before curving up suddenly, scooping Miranda right into the palm of my hand, where she stared up at me with such an adorably confusion that I had to laugh.

“Look at yourself, Miranda. Look at what you’re doing, look at what you’re wearing. Are you the same person you were a year ago? You can’t even handle a slice of pizza!”

I began running a finger down her back, feeling it tremble under my touch as I steadily moved it down and back, and kept my voice as soothing as possible. “You’re not a human anymore, Miranda, you’re a Min. You have been for some time. Look at me, OK?”

Mindlessly, she responded to the command and tilted her head back until it faced mine. “That’s a good girl. I want you to think, and answer me, honestly: do you really think you could take care of yourself right now? Find food, water, or shelter?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“And what about your friends? How well do you think they could take care of themselves, if they were left alone?”

That got more of a response, a brief flash of dread flashing through her face before she whispered guiltily. “They couldn’t.”

“That’s right. Now, tell me. How well do you think I’m treating you? How well do you think you’d do if, one day, a man you never before had walked into the Kennel and managed to take you? Do you think things would be as good as they are now? Do you think he’d treat you as well as I do?”

“N-n-no.” Miranda sobbed quietly. “No, he wouldn’t.”

Slowly, I raised my empty hand and cupped her cheeks with my thumb and forefinger, pressing just enough to hold her head in place.

“Do you think you’re my girlfriend, Miranda? My roommate? My lover? Do you think we’re in any sort of relationship that means I have to treat you like an equal? Because we’re not. I own you, Miranda. I own you, and if I want to slap a collar around your neck and drag you around on a leash, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me. I said I was going to treat you well, and I will, but I don’t want you to think for a second that that is something you are owed, because its not. It’s something you are being given.”

I looked down on the figure shuddering in my hand, the last remnant of a person that no longer was, and sighed. I released her face, and instead grabbed one of her legs, squeezing it gently, feeling the tiny muscles flex against my hand.

“I’m giving you all these things, Miranda. To you, and your friends. And just like I promised, I’ll take care of anyone else you want my to protect, and make suffer anyone you want me to hurt. And all you have to do is listen to what I have to say.”

As I spoke, my hand inched its way up her body, squeezing her butt, rubbing the saliva still clinging to her toned stomach, before settling at last just below her chest. For a long moment I waited there, watching her eyes, shocked and incredulous, glance down from my fingers to and back up to my face, and at that moment of comprehension, I ran the pad of my thumb over an engorged nipple.

She moaned quietly.

“That’s the way. Isn’t that nice?” She nodded, and I did it again, lingering on the tiny point of hardness longer this time.

Miranda, lost and helpless, smiled back at me, and in that moment I dropped her on her rear.

“Now let’s try this again, Miranda. Get your friends. Do it, or I will.”

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Me: talks about how I get so monfocus on this story.
Me: meanders around with all this crap I didn’t see coming.