@ivythefairie There is clearly an appeal to being able to get what you want just by grunting.

@shardro Marvelous!

@Mrgoblinging7 I have complicated thoughts and feelings about this. My formative years occurred before the Internet, so I thought I was the only size perv on the planet. Mainstream size content was all I had. I developed a keen sense for determining what sort of TV shows, movies, books, and comics might feature size content, and how likely such content might contain risqué hints. The best you could realistically hope for was a lingering handheld, a little unaware contact, or some lewd innuendo. Since no one acknowledged size as a fetish, any such scenario would most likely occur in a humorous or horrific context. Cartoons in adult magazines were the best bet, but even there it was very slim pickings.

The other aspect of being reliant on mainstream size content was knowing that if a given TV show or comic series ever did feature a size scenario, it would almost certainly be the last time it did, because the normies would become bored if the show kept returning to the size well. This made those rare size episodes even more fraught, as I knew this was the only chance I might ever get to see, say, a tiny Mork in the same frame with a normal-sized Mindy or a shrunken Diana Rigg crawling about on a giant desktop. Children’s shows were more frequent in their use of size themes because they didn’t expect their audiences either to remember the last time or to care if they repeated themselves, but they were also much less likely to even hint at sizey sexytimes.

In recent decades, however, the Internet has revealed us size pervs to each other and, so-very-slightly, to popular culture. There’s also simply more entertainment content out there (including previously-inaccessible foreign sources), and size content has increased commensurately. There are therefore many more opportunities to encounter mainstream size content, and just as many opportunities for it to be more embarrassing than arousing.

Perhaps because I “imprinted” on mainstream size content, I am still often satisfied when a size encounter keeps the sexual possibilities as subtext. As the volume of size content grows and special effects become cheaper, there will always be opportunities for lascivious leering, indecent proposals, and inappropriate handling. It’s a fine line for mainstream content producers to walk, and I share the Goblin King’s worry that explicit sizey sexytimes can come across as mockery.

The Boys surprised me with Termite. They retconned his character to include a throwaway sight gag from the first season opener, and I was certain that the big splash he made in the third season opener would be the last we would see of him. That they brought him back for “Herogasm” made me worry that either a) mainstream fans would (justly) complain that the show was running out of ideas or b) they were making fun of size pervs. Fortunately, his appearance was just decorative and didn’t derail the plot.

This was also a worry with Downsizing. An R-rated movie from a director with a history of shooting comical nude scenes had the potential to be either miraculous or catastrophic in its presentation of size sexytimes. An early draft of the screenplay had a brief sex scene between different-size characters, mostly off-screen but leaving no doubt about what was happening. I suppose we should be grateful that the finished film ignored the possibilities of giant-tiny sex altogether.

So, an exchange in the Unfortunate Alice thread prompted me to think more about a question about perspectives in size fantasy that I’ve been wrestling with for a while now. How much do you really want to know about your fantasy object?

If you identify as a tiny woman in a M/f scenario, do want to know what’s going on in the big guy’s head, do you want to project your own preferences onto him, or do you want him to remain mysterious and overwhelming? I know what I like as a size fantasist, but as a size writer I often wonder which perspectives and how much depth I should include.

I don’t think there’s much question that the majority of size fantasists primarily identify as tiny, with the consequence that the “classic” size fantasy story is written from the tiny’s perspective. In such stories, the giant characters are generally free to pursue their own agendas without having to explain or justify them, and the drama comes from the tiny characters having to anticipate and adapt to those agendas. Mysterious or arbitrary giants therefore often make good plot devices.

Size fantasy has become more sophisticated since we all found each other and started creating for people other than ourselves. We have begun to think about not only what we want to see but also how we want to be seen, about who else has found their way to size fantasy and what they want to see. “Classic” relationships can be inverted, trying on different perspectives or just mixing things up and seeing what happens.

I’m just curious as to what everyone’s tastes are as far as this goes. Sometimes I prefer a refreshing change of perspective, but often I just need my itches scratched, and long stories with complex characters and plots can divert from that. I still maintain that real characters make for hot smut, but I don’t always have a good feel for when to just lean into the tropes we all know and love.

For example, my story series Taken is written from the perspective of Gordon, a man compelled to shrink women and take them for his pleasure. The narrative is deeply embedded in his own desires and anxieties, and he is often a comic or a tragic figure. I wrote it this way partly because I wanted to subvert the stereotype of the mysterious and confident giant, partly because I was trying to stretch my literary legs, but mostly because I wanted to explore what kind of man would kidnap, rape, and devour women and how he would think of himself. If you’re a tiny woman who gets off on reading about such a man, do you want to know what’s going on in his head or do you just want to see him get down to business?

There is no “bad” answer here; all opinions and preferences are valid.

The Captive by Mikester65

Chapter Five

It was the most intense climax I had ever had. It felt as if Pet had seized me by the prostate and was squeezing every last drop out of me. As dire as Pet’s straits had been lodged between my ass cheeks and balls, she would have been in far greater peril between my surging cock and manic grip.

I again wanted to relax in the afterglow, but Pet’s repose was less than secure, so I stayed slouched while I reached around my thigh and gathered her into my grip. I clasped her to my chest and kept my hand over her as she lay atop my pounding heart.

She only moved to fill and empty her lungs, her fluttering breath tickling my skin. I simultaneously wanted to hold her tight and give her the room to stretch and breathe free. Both of us were sticky, and neither of us smelled fresh.

“Let’s take a real bath, Pet,” I said.

Not a word was spoken as I eased us into the warm, soapy water. I was quite content to watch Pet glide between my legs, pull herself up by my cock, and stretch herself out on my thigh. She knew she had been a good girl, and she only had to look into my face to be reassured.

Dinner that night was beef and vegetables stir-fry with rice. I decided to have a beer, and Pet accepted a dropperful in her mug. Tomorrow I get her dining stuff, I resolved.

Toward the end of the meal, after I had nearly finished my beer, Pet surprised me again. “Sir,” she asked, “what does it feel like to have someone in your mouth?”

“Blissful,” I said without hesitation. “The world collapses until you are only aware of the sensations of the tiny person contained within you, totally at your mercy and open to your appetites.” I had no idea how long I had been waiting to tell that to someone.

Pet considered this, and she didn’t move—not even reflexively—when I leaned down to bring my face close to her.

“What does it feel like to be in someone’s mouth?” I asked recklessly.

She tilted her head and gave me a stare I had never before seen from her at this size. She seemed to think that was sufficient response, but I didn’t know what to make of it.

“C’mon, Pet,” I pressed.

“It’s fucking terrifying, whaddaya think?!” she exploded. She was so agitated that I thought she only kept her seat as a way of suppressing the instinct to flee.

“I got the impression that you liked it,” I said deliberately, trying not to provoke her further.

“What else was I gonna do? Dude, I’m four inches tall and I have no idea how to get back to normal!” she cried. “My life is basically over.” She crumpled in on herself, sobbing.

She’s as surprised by herself as I am, I thought. She knows she shouldn’t have asked me that first question, but her curiosity got the better of her and now we’re here, grieving her old life. Only way forward is through.

I reached forward and she didn’t notice or react as I gathered her into my grip and brought her close. I tried to keep a soft but solemn expression as I lightly stroked her back with the tip of my middle finger. She continued sobbing, eventually burying her face between my thumb and forefinger, right where she had bitten me the day before.

I was at a loss, and I dared not say anything just yet. It was going to take her more than a day to process this, and what she needed from me was consistency. Reliability. Practicality.

I couldn’t put her to bed like that, so I simply waited until her sobs had subsided. She raised her head to look at me, and I saw it: a pleading in her eyes, an honest hope that I could provide an answer.

“So start a new life,” I said, and put her to bed.

---

I didn’t sleep well. My worries about Pet were scattered and intangible, so I ended up focusing on whether I really wanted to give her sharp utensils. I couldn’t come to a confident decision about that.

Pet was more composed at breakfast; she was even forward enough to ask for sugar for her coffee. Without any premeditation, I added some sugar to my coffee, too, and for once I found the sweetness charming rather than cloying.

“Sir,” she asked, “how did class go yesterday?”

I did my best to conceal my frustration. I really didn’t want Pet dwelling on her old life, particularly something as pointless as a 100-level Poli Sci class. At the same time, her question expressed polite concern for the only other person in her new life. I dared not injure that.

“Same ol’, same ol’, Pet,” I replied.

“Do you want my help with the presentation, Sir?” It was, in fact, due in two weeks, and just that morning I had already gotten a text about it from Jeff.

“You don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, Pet,” I said as kindly as I could. She was clearly trying to find something in the future to focus on.

“I have to go to work this afternoon, Pet,” I said, “but before that I’m going shopping. I’m gonna get you a new bed, chair, and table, all exactly your size.”

She wasn’t expecting that, and it took her a few moments to say, “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” It sounded sincere enough.

High on my own generosity, I plunged ahead. “Howabout some books or magazines?” I offered. “Would you like some of those?”

“My, my size?” she asked skeptically.

“Of course, I can make anything your size.”

“Uh, yes, yes Sir,” she said, gaining earnestness with each syllable. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Any ones in particular?”

“You choose for me, Sir.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

It was an excellent note on which to end breakfast. My heart was light as I showered, dressed, and headed out.

---

Work was as tedious as usual, but kept myself going by imagining Pet’s reactions to all the presents I had gotten for her. As a celebratory treat, I also picked up fresh ingredients for Chicken Parmigiano and a California red that I liked.

I had left Pet with the same chunk of cheese for her lunch, and I hoped she hadn’t made herself too full for dinner. When I entered my kitchen, she was lying on Rosa’s too-small couch. You’re gonna love this, Pet, I thought.

I set my satchel on the floor next to the kitchen table and sat down. I opened the satchel clasp and flipped the cover back, then turned to make sure Pet was watching.

“Are you ready for your presents, Pet?” I fairly sang.

Pet hadn’t moved from the couch, and I wondered if she had been more fatigued than I had realized. Even though the couch was beneath her scale, she really looked darling curled up on it. I think I’ll let her keep it.

I brought my face right next to the plexiglass. “Yoo-hoo,” I called softly.

I thought I would be disappointed when Pet opened her eyes and failed to be startled by my looming face, but instead I was relieved when she returned my smile. I’m glad to be home, too.

The first item I presented Pet with was a new bed, queen-sized just right for my lilliputian Queen. No sooner had I placed it in the terrarium than she stretched herself out on it, just as I had envisioned in the department store.

“Pull back the covers,” I said with anticipation. Pet promptly did so, running her hand across the fine sheet underneath.

Also for the terrarium was a high-backed easy chair with arm rests for reading. For the kitchen table was a cushioned dining chair and table. Her plates, bowls, drinking glasses, and utensils had all come from a thrift store, all shrunken afterward. I had hesitated over the serrated steak knife, but in the end I had decided I would have to risk a little trust.

The books and magazines required more inspiration. I resisted the urge to get her all the nerdy sci-fi I was overfamiliar with, but I did sample some well-regarded authors: Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Ursula LeGuin. I really had no clue what kind of magazines to get, beyond those with hi-res photos. I picked up issues of National Geographic, Vanity Fair, and Food & Wine.

Pet accepted the books and magazines in the spirit intended, and while she perused them I set about getting dinner ready. The trick was starting the pasta first because it was more easily interruptible than the chicken. I opened the wine early, and we both had a sip or two before we were finally ready to sit at table.

I didn’t shrink any stemware for Pet because she would be washing all her own dishes and I didn’t want her to have to worry about breaking it. I’m gonna need more eye-droppers, I thought.

The chicken and sauce turned out perfect, and I was pleased to see Pet eating heartily. I poured myself another glass of wine, but Pet declined a refill.

“Sir,” she asked, “Is this to be my new life?”

I nodded with my mouth full, chewed, and swallowed. Pet rested her hands in her lap with a forlorn expression.

“I’m just your pet,” she said softly. “Just your sex toy.”

Finally, I thought. “Yes,” I said patiently, “you are my Pet. Mine and mine alone.”

“Why me?” The question hung in the air while I fished a sliver of chicken out from between my gum and cheek with my tongue, scrutinizing her.

Because your bountiful hair snared me with its sprays and scents. Because your round ass and thick thighs lured me with their tautness and texture. Because your wide cheeks and smile enchanted me with their audacity and openness. Because your bouncy breasts and belly seduced me with their curves and capacity. And because your deep eyes intrigued me with their awareness and appetites.

“Because I wanted to take you,” I said finally, “and I had the power to do so.”

I saw Pet open her mouth for the next question, but the warning in my eyes made her think better of asking it. I refilled her wine glass with the eye-dropper. She took a sip and looked around at the giant kitchen that had become her home.

“How long do you plan to keep me, Sir?” she asked plaintively.

“As long as you are happy here,” I replied sincerely, “which I hope is a very long time indeed.”

I returned to my meal but watched Pet out of the corner of my eye. She picked up both her utensils—including the sharp knife—but she only paused a moment before cutting her chicken again and taking another bite.

When we had both finished our dinner, I cleared and rinsed my dishes and filled a small wash basin to soak Pet’s dishes until she could get to them later. I then retrieved the small couch from the terrarium and set it on the kitchen table underneath the magnifier lamp. It was time for Pet’s final present.

She remained seated at her dining table as I got up and went to my jacket to collect a small tub of coffee creamer from the pocket. The seal was slightly open from when I had emptied it before I left work.

I sat back at the table and set the creamer tub next to the couch. I pulled the seal back all the way, removing it, then beckoned Pet to approach. I was pleased to see from her gait that she retained some curiosity about my acquisitions.

The top of the tub only came up to her knees, so she knelt and peered down into it. Her head snapped back up, her eyes searching my face for affirmation or explanation. I smiled and nodded, and she looked back down and reached into the tub.

When Pet withdrew her arm, her fist was clutching a fellow who had woken up that morning at least six feet tall but was now less than an eighth of an inch tall. I had been concerned that I would injure or kill him when I used the tweezers to pick him up from the restroom floor, particularly as he had been trying to evade me. Next time I should put my finger over the end of a straw and use the force of vacuum when collecting micros.

Gazing through the magnifier, I saw the expression of amazement and delight spread across Pet’s face as she brought her toy close. She chuckled as the microscopic man struggled in vain to escape her grasp.

“You wanted to know what it was like,” I said gently, trying not to intrude too much. Pet raised her face to me with an appraising expression I had never seen before. It was almost as if we were seeing each other for the first time.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “Why don’t you give him a name?”

She smirked and looked at her toy. “He looks like a Dick,” she said.

“‘Dick’ it is,” I proclaimed.

“Hi, Dick!” she chirped at her toy, grinning irrepressibly. Dick’s struggles became even more animated.

“Be quiet,” she said testily. Pet looked back to me.

“What should I do with him?” she asked with a leer.

“Do whatever you like,” I replied, “so long as I get to watch.”

Pet turned her full attention to Dick. She sat on the couch and set him down in front of her. She folded her hands in her lap as he got to his feet.

“You have been irreversibly shrunk,” she said with the imperiousness of a vice principal. “You will live out the rest of your days as my toy.” Dick’s protests were inaudible to me, but Pet cut them off. “Remove all your clothing now,” she said bluntly, “or I’ll break your neck.”

I knew she could feel my scrutiny, but she kept her impassive eyes on her plaything as he undressed. When he was completely nude, she plucked him by one wrist and dangled him in front of her face.

Dick’s legs flailed furiously as Pet’s mouth opened. Her tongue darted out and lapped between his legs, then returned to her palate for the savoring. Her face split into a triumphant grin, and my heart warmed with pride.

Pet opened her jaws even wider, and I could see her shudder with excitement as she slowly brought Dick over her waiting maw. I couldn’t hear his screams, but it was clear Pet was enjoying them. Then she let go and he dropped into her mouth.

She caught him with her teeth about his chest and back, and one of his arms was still free to press and pound on her upper jaw. I thought she might have bitten down when she smiled at his predicament, but I couldn’t see any blood.

Pet shut her eyes and puckered her lips around Dick’s neck, and I could see her tongue pulsing in her throat. She took several deep inhalations as she savored his struggles between her lips, then she dutifully raised her face to my gaze. I wish she could have seen his wide terrified eyes as she sucked him entirely inside.

From that point I could only discern what was happening with Dick from Pet’s expression and posture. She kept her eyes closed and lay back on the couch, and when she put one hand to her chest I thought she might have swallowed him. Her breathing was very shallow and her face was quite still. Her throat muscles, however, were still twitching and I concluded that her tongue must still be having its way with him.

Finally, Pet tipped her head back and I saw the bulge of Dick’s passage down her throat. There was nothing to do or say, just breathe and imagine the sensation of Dick filling Pet’s stomach and meeting his doom.

When I took Dick I had had no firm idea of what would happen to him, but in retrospect it seemed inevitable. Pet had disposed of him rather quickly, but I had surprised her and she hadn’t had time to contemplate anything more elaborate.

Look at you. What must you be feeling right now? Her eyes were still shut, and her lips were tightly pursed. Her hand was still at her chest, fingers splayed wide.

I had to hold her. Pet opened her eyes but did not otherwise react when I gathered her up in both hands and brought her close. I closed one thumb over her belly. I couldn’t detect any movement, but she smiled satisfactorily as she placed both hands on top of my thumb.

“Well,” I asked, “how was it?”

“I get it now,” she replied after a moment. “This is the way of things.”

There was nothing to do but kiss her, right on the front of her head from the bridge of her nose to her crown.

“Who was he?” she asked after I had brought her back under my gaze.

“Just some rando, minding his own business,” I replied.

“So an innocent person, then.”

“I don’t know about ‘innocent’.” I might have taken him because he was tall and he looked like he took it for granted, but that didn’t matter to Pet. “He didn’t do anything wrong to me, if that’s what you mean.”

“You just took him because you could.”

“And because it pleased me to give him to you.”

Pet looked up at me for several moments with an inscrutable expression. I felt judged, and I welcomed her judgment. I craved it, in fact. She let out a deep breath, and a rueful smile crept across her face.

“I can see why you do it,” she admitted.

I channeled my relief into a broad smile. As much as her sympathy meant to me, however, her happiness meant more.

I started caressing her over her clothes with my thumb on her belly, making wider and wider circles until it was fondling her boobs and pressing on her crotch. My tongue stirred insistently. I sought one last affirmation from her, but I was in no position to request it. In the end, I let my eyes speak for me: You are mine to play with, and I will never let you go.

Pet lay back in my hands and raised her arms until they rested above her head against my fingers. She relaxed her legs and let my molesting thumb nudge them apart. Her breathing was deep and even, and her heartbeat felt strong. Her lips were skewed enigmatically, but I had no doubt what her eyes were saying in reply to mine: I am yours.

HERE ENDS VOLUME TWO

Many, many thanks to @Taedis for her assistance with this story.

source

@hentaihunter1 said in Perspectives:

I don’t really have any giant stories, I just don’t know what else to call them. Cagers? Reducers? Did I miss the slang memo for this?

I’ve never seen slang or a tag for this, but I’d nominate “Collectors.”

I don’t think I have any personally written stories that switch between shrunken and Giant though, maybe I should.

I didn’t want to imply that all stories could be divided into “giant’s perspective” and “tiny’s perspective;” there are endless variations and configurations. When it comes to smut, it generally helps to have someone’s perspective in order to show their sensations and emotions and thoughts. However, I’ve read successful (that is, arousing) stories that were just straight-up third-person reporting of events that didn’t get into anyone’s heads.

Of course, it’s always more difficult to write from the perspective of a different gender, orientation, or kink than your own, but that’s not a reason not to try. As always, the solution is to encourage greater diversity in both writers and readers.

Belastungsprobe by Pipifax (aka Max Liebermann)

@kisupure Those are some cuddly-looking calves.

@tiny-ivy Oh yeah. Earlier in the season they showed Dr. Psycho (a dwarf) as having mind-controlled Giganta into marrying him (not at all canon). In a subsequent episode, Poison Ivy casually inquires “how did this work…sexually” (Psycho’s reply: “Not great!”).

Note that the Giganta eps had different writers than the ep with the Giant Ivy/vore gag. That they did all this in the first season demonstrates a boldness that kink-smugglers didn’t used to have.

@giant-me Jit expressly created this forum for M/f fans to have a place to share their darker thoughts and fantasies. Even I have to remind myself of that occasionally.

by Sinnamom

@kisupure I remain impressed with how quickly you’re knocking this out. The dialogue is sharp and evokes a real meet-cute.