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.”
Me: talks about how I get so monfocus on this story.
Me: meanders around with all this crap I didn’t see coming.
Well, if we’re talking scenarios, I can be a bit more specific 
One of my personal favorite options is multi-size, because of the potential interaction options, and something that speaks to me is a… society of SWs under a giant, one that self-renforces.
The giant sits at the top of the hierarchy, obviously, and grants favors, boons; in a more of a fantasy setting it may be a god granting powers to itss chosen, while in more grounded options is may be adjustments with a shrink ray, or a treat, but beyond that doesn’t interact with the day to day; that’s what the others are for. Sure they’ll have their fun, take their sacrifices to eat, use, whatever, but beyond that they’re beyond the actual work such a civilization would require, and outside of a chosen few, everyone else, is, at best, a resource to exploit, or a toy to be played with.
The real fun comes from the next size down, the women bigger than the others, priestesses or favorites or what not, who make and enforce the rules, and ensure that everything is arranged for their lord, and beyond that are free to fulfill their whims free of consequence on those beneath them.
And after that, it goes down and down, each class smaller than the next, numbering more and all the less valuable for it, until at the bottom of the heap are legions and legions of women, who are, for all intents and purposes, invisible to their mistresses, because they’re that small, that worthless. Their lives are meaningless, and they know it, are reminded of it every moment some dime a dozen worker steps over their ramshackle buildings without effort, when they’re used as barter and food in games of poker, when someone having a bad day winds down by torturing dozens of them, when a priestess, seemingly miles away, unknowingly causes them massive casualties and doesn’t even notice.
And the giant himself? To them, he’s no longer even a person so much as some unstoppable, unknowable force of nature; you can resent someone who exploits you, but when an area just… ceases to exist? Not even for a reason, but because someone, something just… rolled over in their sleep? Took a step? At that point, all that’s left is to hope and pray to something, anything that He will be appease by their mistresses, that that awesome force can be directed away from them by sacrifice and devotion, and that if they work diligently that the mistresses may be please enough with them to actully do that, and intercede ever so slightly on their behalf.
To live as one of those masses is to be less than nothing.
I’m not sure how long this burst of writing will last, but hell, as long as it’s there, I might as keep on 'till I crash, right?
The two of them left me with lingering doubts, and the nagging certainty that, if I was going to actully interact with them in any meaningful way, I should probably learn their actual names.
Thankfully, before too long the pizza arrived.
When Miranda first contacted me, I was given a list of requirements I would need to meet, if I was to stake my claim on her, or any other Min for that matter. Most were simple, logical things, like being a legal adult, or being Changed, that I met without issue. There was one, however, that was a bit more dramatic: any door that I could expect to have people walk up to needed a second door built in front of or behind it, to keep anyone who knocked on my door safe from harm by the Mins I kept inside.
It was, like almost everything else involved in the process, subject to incentives by the government in their efforts to get as many Mins off their hands as possible, so I barely had to pay a thing to have it done. I had a hallway I could easily convert, as well, and the process itself had taken less than a week to complete. Honestly, compared to some of the stories I’d seen online, the entire process had been virtually painless.
That said, there’s an indescribable frustration that comes from having to deal with the world’s shittiest air lock just to get a pizza.
I wasn’t terribly concerned about an escape attempt, but before I opened the inner door I glanced over my shoulder anyways. Blonde and Brunette, unsurprisingly, were nowhere in sight. Miranda, on the other hand, had appeared near the couch at some point and was eying the door greedily. When she saw me focus on her, she stepped back and raised her hands into the air in an universal signal of ‘Don’t mind me’.
I snorted, then went through the first door. Closing it behind me, I opened the second, to see a man waiting for me, boxes in hand. He was Changed, of course, bearing a crest of pure white feathers instead of hair; in an age where delivery could be life threatening, those who could weather the danger without issue were unsurprisingly in high demand, if only to insure that orders would continue to be delivered in a timely manner.
He was also one of the drivers I usually got at this time of night, and noticing the changes, he eyed the door behind me knowingly for a moment, giving me an approving grin before handing my order over. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for talking, and he restrained himself from any comments beyond the usual formalities.
Passing through my ‘airlock’, I returned to see Miranda had abandoned the couch to stand by the table instead, impatiently waiting for me to bring the food over.
Just to irritate her, I took my time on the walk back, and every exaggerated step I took filled her tiny face with an adorable rage. By the time I set the boxes down, she was full out pouting.
More interestingly, near the edge of the table I found Brunette and Blonde, not hiding, but not drawing attention to themselves, either. The two of them were what I could only call standing at attention… or, perhaps, standing for inspection. With their arms folded behind their backs, chests thrown out, heads submissively tilted down, they made quite the sight; even more so, when the impact of the boxes hitting the table shook them enough for them both to fall on their asses.
I watched them stand up shakily as, in my mind, my picture of the life of a Min in a Kennel adjusted dramatically. Turning, I saw Miranda fixing me with a dramatic glare again, for the first time in… hours. It almost felt nostalgic with how dramatically our relationship had shifted, even it was just earlier today that she had been acting as high and mighty as ever.
Ignoring her, I gathered several paper plates from a cabinet before returning to the table and taking a seat, noting with amusement how even that caused the smaller Mins to sway slightly. Brushing the smaller box to the side for the moment, I opened the box and took out a slice of pizza and set it on a plate.
Holding it in the air, I knew I had the absolute attention of everyone in the room, with each and every little head locked onto the plate with wondering expression. Teasingly, I moved it closer to Miranda, watching her start to reach out… before dropping it in front of Brunette and Blonde, who were so startled by this that they both fell onto the pizza. They leapt off, stained with grease and sauce and stammering apologies, but I just repeated the process of readying another plate.
This time, when it hovered in front of her face, Miranda kept her control for all of ten seconds before reaching out with eager hands to grab something that probably weighted more than she did.
Unfortunately for her, we still had some more to do.
“Before we start, Miranda, I think we should do something.”
She froze, looking guilty, before switching to a look of suspicion.
I didn’t give her a chance to speak, though.
“If we’re all going to be living together, shouldn’t you introduce me to your friends?” I gestured with one hand towards the other Mins, who at this point were doing their best to look even smaller than usual. “It’s just good manners, right?”
She scowled, clearly conflicted over whether to humor even that much from me or not. Thankfully, Brunette decided to make her move then, inching forward before dipping into another one of those unexpectedly erotic curtseys.
“Si-Master,” she began, “I’m terribly sorry that didn’t introduce ourselves to you before.”
Miranda’s glare only grew, but she didn’t try to stop her friend from speaking, not that I would have let her; the more the little Mins did… anything, really, the more fascinating I found them.
For her part, Brunette eyed Miranda warily for a moment, but then compared her to me before prioritized which whims she should obey.
She curtseyed again. “My name, Master, is Amber, and behind me is my friend Mia.”
True enough, the newly named Mia had also lowered into a courtesy of her own, before the two of them rose with a level of synchronization that spoke of long practice.
Amber continued. “We would like to thank you for your generosity in taking us into your home.”
I faced Miranda very deliberately as I answered. “Why thank you, Amber, that is very kind. You and your friend are welcome to eat, if you want.”
It filled me with great pleasure to see her face flush red with anger, tiny little fists clenching and unclenching as tried to hold her temper and resist the urge to attack someone who could easily back hand her off the table.
It was even more amusing to toss the second place in front of her and watch her startle in response, her rage quickly forgotten in the face of the sheer volume of food I had presented her.
Dinner, as it turned out, also came with a show: watching the rest of the diners eat.
Amber and Mia, hopeless outmatched by their slice, didn’t even try to move it, instead resorting simply chewing bits of it off the, to them, enormous slab of food, crawling upon it to gain a bit of the sausage, then to another area for sauce or cheese and so on. As they did so, I could help but notice that their already dirty bodies became more and more stained. It wasn’t mud wrestling, to be sure, but watching them get covered in an edible coating seemed to hold a special allure all it’s own.
Miranda, on the other hand, was in an awkward place where she could manage her food, but only barely; she’d raise the tip of it to her mouth, like she would have when she normally ate a pizza before she Min’d, only for the weight of it to overwhelm her and fall down on her body, forcing her onto the giving surface of the plate. It was too light to hurt her, thankfully, but she grew more and more frustrated as she had to fight her meal off her body, and grew more than a little dirty herself in the process.
I watched them, blatantly, as I finished my first slice, and moved on to my second, gaining Miranda’s glares and two nervous stares in the process, before I decided to make my move.
Even with all three of them watching, I was just so big that, when I was this close, none of them could effectively watch all of me at once. Distracted as they were by the food, my hand’s movements went unnoticed until it pinched Miranda around the waist and drew her up into the air.
Miranda flailed wildly in my grasp as below her, Amber and Mia stopped eating and started cowering behind the edge of their pizza, trying to avoid attention.
“Ian!” Miranda snarled. “Ian, what the hell are you doing? I’m trying to eat!”
I smiled. “I know you are, Miranda, but you’re making such a mess.”
Carefully, I grabbed first one arm, and then the other, pulled them behind her back, and pinned them under the hand still holding her in the air, in the process forcing her to thrust her still impressive chest forward.
“So beautiful, Miranda… but so dirty.”
I licked my lips as I stared at her, my eyes tracing the patterns formed of sauce and bits of cheese all over her, following them until one ended on her breast, just short of the nipple.
I couldn’t help notice how it seemed to rise almost proudly in the air.
“Why don’t I help you clean up?”
I moved her forward and started licking a clean path upon the delectable surface of her flesh.
From her knee, my tongue rose steadily up her leg, tracing an curved line as I resisted the urge to simply close my mouth around it’s firmness, instead proceeding up her side, before veering onto her stomach. The tip of it danced around her belly button for a moment as I enjoyed finally having my way with the very thing that had caught my eye from the beginning, flattening down to take in as much sensation as possible, before probing at the tiny dips and arcs formed by bone and muscle with careful precision.
It was only as my tongue rose to her breast, curling to cup it its bounty, that I realized that Miranda was screaming.
It wasn’t in anger, like I would have expected, or even in excitement, as I would have hoped, but in fear, real genuine fear, as if I was going to bite down on her at any time now.
For a second, for a long, long second, I almost kept going.
It would have been easy; even though she was fighting me, madly, desperately, her arms didn’t so much as budge from my grip, and the tiny thuds of her bare feet against my chest were a meaningless sensation I barely noticed.
Miranda was here, helpless in my grasp, exactly as she knew she would be, exactly as she had all but asked me to. Everything I wanted was, quite literally, at hand, and all I had to do was take it.
It was perhaps one of the greatest acts of will in my life to stopping.
This time I was the one glaring, looming over her with my hand tightening ever so slightly around her arms and waist.
“Miranda”, I said, my voice carefully blank, “What the fuck.”
There were no words, just screaming and crying, noises as mindless as the way she still fight blindly against me. The defiance had been fun, but I wasn’t in the mood anymore.
“Enough.” I snarled.
That one word was loud, louder than I had been the entire time, and from all of a foot from her face. Miranda froze, mouth open and tears streaming from her face as she stared at me, and for a long minute, no one spoke.
“No…” she cried. “No… please, Ian, no. Don’t hurt me, please, Ian no, don’t-”
I shook her roughly.
“Miranda,” I begin, “What in the hell made you think I was going to hurt you?”
Shaking her head, she refused to speak, simply making quiet moaning sounds. I sighed, and placed her on the table, careful not to hurt her, and left my hand on top of her body, still holding her in place.
Face down into the wood, if she was still talking, I couldn’t hear her from up here.
I gathered my thoughts, tapping my fingers irritably against the table, and back, as I tried to articulate anything more that frustrated rage.
“Miranda,” I said finally, “You told me that I could have you. That I could have you, willing. You would do anything, everything, and in return, your friends would be untouched. That was the deal.”
My free hand gestured wildly in the air as I continued, not that she could see it from her spot on the table. “It’s not like I asked you to do a pole dance or something, I mean… fuck, Miranda! This was supposed to be fun, and for you, too! I was going to make you cum!”
Beneath my hand, she laid motionless. Grabbing her arms again, I levered her up onto her knees, so she could see Amber and Mia, still huddled behind their pizza, helplessly watching this drama of giants play out.
I sighed. “Let me make you a deal, Miranda. As of now you are, effectively, in breach of the only real restraint you have on my behavior, on your guarantee of any treatment as a human being instead of a Min. I’m going to give you three options, now.”
I reached out and grabbed the slice the Mins were sheltering behind, placing it back in the box as they panicked, exposed. I watched, out of the corner of my eye, as they visibly considered running before giving up on the option as hopeless, instead choosing to stay and face their fate head on.
“The first option is… you keep doing this. You give up, on the first day no less, and thus tell me that I can do whatever I want to all of you. You won’t participate in the fun as much as I would of liked, but… you’re clearly not doing that anyways. What do I have to lose?”
I let go of her arms, and Miranda caught herself on her hands and knees instead of falling flat on her face, which was a promising sign.
“The second option is we try it again. I lick you, and lick you, and keep doing it until you are completely clean. And yes, I will go places you don’t want me to, but if you so much as protest? Option two is done.”
I paused, before reaching down with one finger and ever so gently lifted her head until it once again faced her friends.
“The third option,” I began, “is that I don’t do anything at all. Instead, you do. You walk over there, you pick up Amber and Mia, and you do everything to them that I was going to do to you. Everything. I will not so much as touch them, or you, but if we go this route, Miranda, I expect them to be spotless by the time we’re done, and preferably having orgasimed at least once. And if if they ask you to stop? If they cry? If they beg and plead?”
I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “I damn well expect you to keep going anyways.”
Well. That escalated quickly. You know Ghostbusters, at the end of the movie on the roof, where they have to make a choice?
Choose the form of your destructor, Miranda.
Also, that feeling when you have to look back to figure out WTF your characters are actually named.
Not too long after she calmed down, I moved my freer hand as stealthy as I could towards my pocket. Still, it didn’t get far before Miranda’s head popped up to look at me.
“I still want that pizza.” I said apologetically, and she laughed for a moment while I dug out my phone. Before I could dial, however, she interrupted me.
“Wait!” When I paused, she continued, faster than before. “Before the pizza gets here… Could I- I mean, will you let me, look around the house?”
Miranda showed me a pleading face that should have been classified as a war crime.
“Please?”
I sighed. “Fine.”
Before I could add anything else, she had slipped out of my loosened hold and darted out into the rest of my house, and I had to admit it hurt a little, how eager she was to get away from me. I wasn’t surprised, all things considered, but it still hurt.
That said, once the pizza came she’d probably come running back, which would be a treat in and of itself. Just imaging her tugging at my jeans, looking up at with that same pleading face… I grinned briefly before placing my order.
This, however, led into a problem: it would be a half hour, maybe more, before the pizza came. A whole half hour, in which I would have to entertain myself. In theory, it should be simple. In practice? I had spent all this time with Miranda, playing with Miranda, at times just short of having my way with Miranda, and shifting gears from that to something more lowkey would be… difficult.
Normally, I’d read a book, or watch something on Netflix, but I knew at the moment I wasn’t in the right mindset; I’d be so distracted by my dreams for the near future that whatever I tried to watch or read would just slip past me. Eventually, I pulled out my laptop and went to the table: when I was doing my earlier research, I had saw something that had caught my eye, and it had never quite slipped my mind. Before, I thought it hadn’t been a great fit for me.
Now, though. Now I wondered.
I was several tabs deep into testimonials and explanations when I was interrupted.
“Umm.” It was a soft, quiet voice I had never heard before, and almost unbelievably timid. “Excuse me, sir?”
It was also… behind my laptop? I leant to side and saw Brunette standing on the table in front of me, quivering, but still forcing herself to stand straight. Blonde cowered behind her, less brave, but still on the table nevertheless.
Huh. I didn’t expect to see them again until at least a week from now.
It took me a little while to realize the reason she wasn’t talking wasn’t her fear, but that she was waiting for me to give her permission to continue.
“Yes?” I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but I was more than a little curious.
“Y-you told Miranda that you were going to share the pizza with us, right? I-”, she paused, and stepped aside enough so that Blonde was no longer ‘hid’ behind her body, “We, would like to thank you. For more than just the food.”
Then both of them curtseyed deeply, which was lewder than I would have thought, naked: bent over, and their arms spread wide, they let their chests hang freely, while, especially from my perspective, their rears were basically being displayed for my inspection. Then they held the pose as Brunette continued. “I know you’re not doing it for us-”
Fair. I’d been pretty clear on my motivations thus far.
“-But even so, all of this, all the things you’ve done for us, even if it was just an afterthought… it’s more than we could have ever expected.”
She stopped, but the two of them stayed in curtsy, and I had the feel it was less of an ending point and more that she needed to gather her courage. I didn’t hear her take a deep breath, but I gathered as much by the heave of her delightful breasts.
“If you would excuse our rudeness, we would like to beg a favor from you, sir.”
Ah. The meat of the matter. I nodded, because it seemed appropriate, and even though she was looking down at the table top, Brunette continued.
“When the time comes… be gentle with us. Please.” She was, I realized, pleading now, all the dignity in her voice gone, leaving only desperation. “Please. Sir-”
She stopped abruptly. “Master,” she said instead, and the way she said the word, not grudgingly, or resentfully, but fearful and reverent all at once, sent a thrill through me.
Blonde, I noticed, was trembling, even worse than before, and I swore I saw something fall from her downturned face.
“Master, we are weak. So very, very weak. If you are not careful, we will break. Even if you don’t mean to hurt us, we will be shattered by your most simple, unrestrained touch.”
Their curtsies deepened, to the point where their faces nearly touched the table.
“We will do whatever you say, Master. Whatever you say. We will be loyal, Master, and dutiful to you and your desires. So please, we beg you Master: When the time comes, please have mercy upon us.”
Brunette didn’t say anything after that, and the two of them continued to hold in place, shaking. After a minute I extended my index finger towards them, and as its shadow fell over her, Brunette flinched, but still did not move.
When it went over her, only to descend in front of Blonde, she jerked away with a scream, before abruptly kneeling, face flat onto the table. Faintly, I heard something that could have been her whimpering, or could have been my imagination.
I ignored her, though, and instead dabbed at the spot just in front of where she had stood, before rubbing that fingertip against my thumb. For an instant, before the friction burnt it away, I felt the slightest hint of wet.
I wasn’t lying, before; I honestly had no plans for them, beyond keeping them alive and relatively well cared for as a favor for Miranda, but… they were tempting. More tempting, really, than I wanted to admit.
My lust for Miranda had been constant. I wanted her. I had always wanted her, and just because I could hold her in my hand now didn’t change that basic fact of myself. It was, if I focused on it, creepy, but it was also… pure, almost. Loyal, in a weird way.
This, however, was different. Baser. I didn’t want them because they were my long denied crush; I wanted them because they were sexy, and small, and obedient. And scared.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I said vaguely, more out of a feeling of obligation than as an actual response.
Some of the tension left them, but they didn’t move from their places on the table.
“You can go.” I added awkwardly, and at that they both got up at last, and ran off before I could change my mind.
Man. You wouldn’t think ordering a pizza would be that hard for me to write. Weirdly enough, though, that gave me more problems than the rest of this story combined.
I’m… most unsatisfied with how that ended up, which is why it took longer than I wanted to get this out, but I just needed to do it, otherwise I’d never would. I’m pretty sure I’ve had stories die just because I was stuck on some stupid little thing like this, and I don’t want to do that again; I’m not even at a good part yet!
That said, I derailed a bit again from where I had planned; my initial layout had the two them not be much of a factor until later. Still, this isn’t bad, I think; I have a lot of dynamics happening in this story that I want to let play out, and bunch of behind the scenes stuff I’m still trying to introduce organically. A bit of divergence is to be expected.
@littlenichole
laughs in future plot plans
I’m glad I’m getting people’s interest. Ian is… complicated, and he’s still trying to figure this out, honestly. He was planning on being super nice, but you know what they say: no plan survives contact with the enemy.
A couple of days ago, I came up with a little description for this story, but realized I was never really going to use it: a weird mix between sweetness and Stockholm Syndrome.
I’d like to thank you for doing this.
Even if some of this isn’t a great fit for my own situation, even without the details of it, really, the fact it’s just… laid out like this, means a lot. Like, even if I never… call one of those therapists, for example, the fact that there’s some that would help for this, and all the implications of that, is huge for me.
It’s just… really nice to see, you know?
So, yeah. Thanks.
I’ve noticed if I have a ‘make a post’ thing open in one tab, and literally anything else in another tab, that post thing will pop up there, even if it has nothing to do with that thread.
If I had to choose one size, it’d be… somewhere between three to six inches, ish. Small enough that they can’t really interact with anything, while big enough to interact with.
That said, what I like can depend on my mood, the day, and what I’m looking for; there’s a certain level of cuddle based softness that can only come when you aren’t in danger of accidentally obliterating your partner by existing, but there’s plenty of times I want that to be the case, or to be a landscape for them to be trapped on. Hell, even a proper half sized has its perks, with a SW struggling to live a normal life, and often failing…
I’m going to bet she wants to try it out… or maybe tries it out on accident. Either, I’m looking forward to it.
I like bondage, vore, and… I guess I would call it ‘depersonalization’? I’m not sure what the word for it is, because there’s probably a word for it.
Bondage is fun, because you can wrap a woman up like a present, helpless and exposed, and the way things can dig into exciting places is all sorts of fun.
Vore, to me, is… something like a primal display of power, I guess. (Also, I like eating, so there’s that.) Eating something is a proof of superiority over them, to me. The fact that the tongue is innate considered sexual for so many things is also a factor; it adds an edge of uncertainty for those involved. Are they going to be ‘eaten’? Or eaten?
As for the last, it’s something I generally only see in giantess stories, but obviously still want in SW contexts; the idea of the sheer irrelevance of the tiny. Like, if you walk down the street, and step on a tiny? No one cares. If you pick one up, take them home, and do whatever? No one cares. If you just scoop up your girlfriend of several years, dip her in some sauce, and dump her in your mouth? Well, she was a tiny. Crush, in general, seems to be a part of this, for me, but only as part; I like the casualness of the crush, and not the entire setting of the foot and such, per say.
As a community, I notice we seem to treasure the smalls more than the other end of the spectrum… and don’t get me wrong, I get that. In a more realistic setting, I wouldn’t do a lot of the shit I like. But as fantasy…
Also, begging. Begging is fun.
FYI, when you hit enter, like, six times or whatever for spacing? It’s not really showing that. It shows like… two enters of spacing, I guess.
I just tried doing line breaks with some dashes in a row to help show a separation, and that turned into a line, which is cool… but it’s black on dark grey, and so it’s super hard to see. Or, maybe it’s there in previews, but not in actual posts? Not quite sure, there.
I don’t mean to complain a lot or anything, I just want to point out things as I notice them.
Man, this is the most writing I’ve done in years. I’m feeling all productive and crap.
Eventually, though, the time came that things would have to either escalate, or stop, and as much as I wanted to escalate things, we weren’t quite there yet.
Instead, I looked at Miranda and asked, “How do you feel about dinner and a movie?”
At her blank look, I elaborated. “I’m hungry and I’m not in the mood to cook at the moment. Why don’t I order a pizza or something? You and your friends can each have a slice, and we can watch something on TV. You can even help me pick it out, if you want.”
Hell, at this point, I’d watch the sappiest, most boring of chick flicks if it meant Miranda would willingly sit on my lap to watch it.
My mind must have wandered off, because when I refocused, I saw her expression had changed, the wary confusion of before replaced by… hope?
“Really?” she asked, her tone almost desperate.
I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “Miranda, pizza isn’t that expensive. A pie or two isn’t going to break the bank, you know.”
“No, I mean…” she trailed off, looking deliciously vulnerable and uncertain, before continuing. “You’ll give m- us some?”
Then I got it.
After I had received the offer from her, I had done some research into Mins and the lifestyle they could expect in government housing. It wasn’t pleasant. Food, among other things, provided in the cheapest possible way: a sort of nutritious food slop popularly marketed as ‘Min Chow’, and the only way the Mins could improve their lot is through the ‘generosity’ of the guards. Most likely, none of them had had any real food in months.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, to her anyways, I rolled my eyes. “Really, Miranda? Do you really think, what? I’m not going to feed you, or feed you slop?”
Judging by the look on her face, that wasn’t quite it, so I pressed on. “Or did you think I was going to make you beg for food? Or maybe for food for your friends?”
She winced, and I knew I had gotten it. Before she could say anything, I swept her up in hug, and against my chest, I could feel her form freeze in place.
“I told you already: I’m going to take care of you Miranda.” I tried not show how emotional I was, but I wasn’t sure how well I succeeded. “I’ll always take care of you, I promise you. I won’t say I won’t ever do something to you you won’t like, but I will never let you be hungry, or thirsty, or cold. You will always be safe, and you will always have a place to go, a place to sleep. And if you want me to take care of your friends as well? No problem. If you want me to pick up other people you met and take care of them as well? I can do that. If you want me to get someone you didn’t like, and destroy them for you, crush them, break them, destroy their hopes and dreams until they kiss your feet and beg you for mercy? I’ll do that too.”
She made a startled noise at that, but just held her tighter.
“Miranda, I-” I began, but the words wouldn’t come out, and not even I was sure what I wanted to say. Like you? Love you? Own you? Want to hold you close and never let you go? Want to make you scream in pleasure again and again and again until you can’t even think and you lie limp and trusting in my arms?
In the end, I didn’t say anything, just held her tight, and felt her gradually return the embrace the best she could, trying to reach me with arms that barely spanned the width of my chest. Eventually, she tapped up near my neck, and I reluctantly let her go.
Miranda looked up at me, then, and it was the first time I had ever seen her eyes filled with tears.
“Ian.” It was the first time she had said my name since she had shrunk. “Do you mean it?”
I smiled at her gently, and when I said, “Of course”, it was perhaps the most sincere thing I had ever said in my life.
“Ian-” she began, only to stop for a minute, trying to compose herself. “Ian, thank you. Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou-”
She hugged me, or tried to, again, and sobbed into me. “I’ve been so scared, Ian, I’ve been so scared, for so long. I was so small, all of a sudden, me and the others, and nobody would talk to me, nobody cared about me, nobody wanted me, and I just- I… I just don’t want to be scared anymore, or alone, or hungry, I-”
Miranda trailed off, and twisted in my embrace, reaching out for one of my hands. Obligingly, I moved it at her direction, and she brought it to her own chest and grabbed it, holding it to herself like I held her to me, squeezing it tightly, desperately as she cried.
I could feel the swell of her breasts against my palm, as she sat there, so very naked and vulnerable and Miranda. Still, I resisted the urge, and just let her sob as long as she wanted, my fingers holding on to her like arms.
This chapter is brought to you by: a random name generator, for men this time. Because I can’t name things for shit.
Also, honestly I wasn’t expecting this to go like this, but… shrug, I guess it did.