Best posts made by Olo

@maladaptivetiny I just heard someone refer to the age of dating apps as “the Swiping Era,” and I gotta say that hits differently for Size fans.

(source needed)

@SmolChlo Why didn’t you guys say you were into floor hockey?

On my WordPress blog, I just posted some background about Big Sky, a world that I constructed for the setting of my first size story ever. In addition to fleshing out the history of the world and the social impact of shrinking technology, I also briefly discuss what I wanted to achieve with my story and how the world design helps with that.

The story itself is primarily F/m, but there a few shrunken women at the end who portend where my size fantasies have ultimately gone.

@blehb said in Go-to sizey daydream?:

Here’s a weirder one I’m wondering if any of you can relate to: I love imagining peoples reactions to size content. Good or bad, I’m just fascinated by people’s thoughts on it (beyond the “wow how strange!” part). Like how into it would they be? What role would they want to play? How would they feel towards someone who was really into it?

And I don’t mean this in a way where I’m trying to project my own fantasies onto them, or hope they’re going to love it as much as I do. It is just a genuine fascination. I don’t have the guts to bring it up to anyone though.

I am probably more interested in normies’ reactions to size content than I am in kinksters’ reactions, tbh. I’m no longer trying to “recruit” people into size fantasy, but I do think it doesn’t have to be as insular as some might think. The aesthetic I’m aiming for in my stories is an engaging story that “just happens” to have size content.

Accordingly, I want to know how much size content normies will entertain before it gets too silly and they stop engaging with it. For example, if I come up with a mixed-size society and describe certain accommodations that are made for People of Unusual Size, my goal is to make the normie reader say, “That’s clever, that’s probably how it would have to work” rather than just laughing at the sight gag.

Once they buy into the premise, then the size smut should sell itself.

Lisztomania

This story doesn’t have a happy ending. This is very much a The Bad Guys Win scenario. I’ve had this idea in my pile ever since a comment last year from @sloppy_amy, but now that I’ve written it out I cannot deny that it could also seem like what might have happened if Dr. Little from Out of their Element by @littlest-lily had triumphed.

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The Prof

You wouldn’t look twice at Jonathan as he walked down Boylston Avenue. White dude, average height, slim/athletic build, close-cropped brown hair, stylish glasses, light mustache and soul patch. He wore a dark hoodie and matching sneakers, white T-shirt, and black jeans, all clean and in good shape. His laptop bag might be larger than most, but you wouldn’t remember that. He walked with purpose, and you would imagine that it must be a legitimate one. You would be mistaken.

Jonathan was a very bad man, even taking into account that he was a pimp. The kind of man who could spot desperation in women and sell them a lie of economic and physical security, exploit their bodies for every last cent, then cut them loose when they were all used up is all-too-common in this world. It took a rare quality of evil to encounter world-altering technology and see only an opportunity for further monetizing human cruelty.

He still ran regular girls for regular johns, less out of strict financial need than keeping his enterprises diversified. Jonathan had learned long ago not to keep all his eggs in one basket. And the scouting part of the business was the same for both markets, as evidenced by the two girls he added to his stable last night. Iris was already walking the street, while Emma had been prepped for the Prof.

The Prof had lived at his condo on Boylston near campus ever since his divorce, before Jonathan ever made his acquaintance. He was a regular john back then, using a fake name that Jonathan couldn’t remember even now. Quick with his cash and no complaints from the girls. Jonathan had no reason to give him a second thought until the day the Prof had shown him the device.

A girl came back from the Prof’s condo saying he wanted a special arrangement. No details, but he had to speak with her “manager” in person. “He better make it worth my while,” was Jonathan’s only response. Over the year that followed that day, Jonathan’s net income after payoffs had jumped twentyfold.

Jonathan continued his brisk pace along the sidewalk. The latest wave of gentrification had yet to reach the Prof’s neighborhood, and his building was at least fifty years old. Jonathan had months previously memorized the Prof’s intercom code and he duly entered it when he reached the front door.

“Hello?” came the Prof’s jovial greeting, clearly anticipating Jonathan’s arrival.

“Delivery,” said Jonathan dully. The door lock buzzed promptly.

The condo developers had updated the lobby and corridors with contemporary wallpaper and fixtures, but the elevators were still slow and the floor was still spongy. Every time he walked down the hall to the Prof’s unit Jonathan half-expected to break through the carpet and put his foot in a hole in the ramshackle flooring.

The Prof greeted Jonathan at the door, wearing his favorite dressing gown. Jonathan didn’t know anyone else who knew what a dressing gown was, let alone owned one. It was primarily burgundy in color, with a dark foliage pattern that somehow reminded Jonathan of the jungle.

“Do come in,” said the Prof, opening the door and standing aside.

Jonathan didn’t know what subjects the Prof once taught, but from his home décor he imagined he was a professor of philosophy or history or something similarly squishy. Books everywhere, crammed into sagging shelves and heaped in disused corners. Dark wood paneling, delicate window dressing, and ancient plush furniture. A small dining table still bearing the remains of a single breakfast. In the study a well-worn high-backed leather reading chair, side table, and footstool occupied the position of maximum window light.

There was a distinct but not unpleasant odor immediately familiar to anyone who (unlike Jonathan) had ever patronized a used bookstore. A less-worn leather couch faced the reading chair across a low circular walnut table. The Prof used to offer Jonathan a cup of tea, but he eventually sensed Jonathan was annoyed by having to repeatedly decline and abandoned the gesture.

Jonathan lay his bag down on the couch and turned to look at the Prof waiting next to the reading chair, his hands clasped in front of his chest. Another white guy, the Prof’s physique was evidence of a sedentary career and even more sedentary retirement. Unlike most of his colleagues who had to be carried out of their ivory tower in a pine box, the Prof had retired in his early fifties, shortly after his divorce. His hairline had only just started to recede, making a small widow’s peak of his dark brown hair that was otherwise creeping down his collar and over his ears. His mustache and beard were more orderly if no less thick, closely trimmed with a bit of salt-and-pepper. Hazel eyes peered out from beneath arched eyebrows over a gently-sloping nose. His thick lips were restless.

Jonathan knew from experience that the Prof wasn’t wearing anything under his dressing down other than some long-suffering padded slippers. The gown was already loose enough to expose a bit of the Prof’s hairy chest, and his irrepressible paunch would not be ignored.

At a nod from Jonathan, the Prof hastened to clear the circular table of all items, then crossed the study to open a closet and retrieve a small empty fish tank, which he placed in the center of the tabletop. Finally, he turned on the reading lamp next to his chair and reoriented it so that it illuminated the tank.

Jonathan brought his bag over to the table and set it next to the tank, then opened it and transferred its contents to the floor of the tank one by one. He tried to distribute them evenly so they could each be clearly available to the Prof’s scrutiny, but as always they refused to stay put. To be fair, such behavior was probably to be expected from most any young woman who had been abducted, stripped, and proportionately reduced to two-inches-tall.

The Prof claimed to have invented the size-altering device. He didn’t look like an inventor or engineer to Jonathan, but he was familiar enough with the operation of the device when he first demonstrated it for Jonathan. It was the size and shape of a thick mobile phone or perhaps a mobile phone in a thick case. It was even operated via a touch screen on one side, and on the other side there was what looked like a camera lens. You unlocked it with a numeric code, typed in a percentage, then held it up as if you were taking a photo, sighted the target through the screen display, and pressed the big red button.

Targets of the device changed size in proportion to the specified percentage. A target’s size could be changed more than once, but it could never be made larger than its original size. The Prof had first demonstrated it on his dining table, reducing it to 5% of its original size and then restoring it. The Prof had then invited Jonathan to try it out, and Jonathan had targeted the Prof’s reading chair, successfully reducing and restoring it on the first attempt.

“That’s amazing, uh, Professor,” said Jonathan, “but what’s this got to do with me?”

“I want you to shrink women and sell them to me.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate at all to entertain the appalling proposal.

“How do I know it works on people?” he countered.

“Well, I could demonstrate it on you,” replied the Prof, “but I suspect it would injure our business relationship.”

“Damn right it would. Why don’t you let me try it on you?”

“Be my guest.”

Jonathan blinked, then grinned and raised the device to target the Prof and triggered it. Nothing happened except an error message on the touch screen: “ACCESS DENIED.”

“I programmed it to lock up if anyone tried to target me,” said the Prof smugly, holding his hand out for the device, which Jonathan warily returned.

Jonathan had to revise his estimation of the Prof, but he didn’t let that get in the way of imagining other possibilities. However much the Prof was willing to pay for shrunken girls, he knew someone just as kinky and undoubtedly richer. He had recently started supplying a john named Greg, a techbro who had the girls do all kinds of weird shit; roleplaying characters from video games, creepy costumes for both the girls and him, you name it. Greg would very likely pay top dollar for living dolls.

The Prof and Jonathan worked out a deal. Each month Jonathan would discreetly shrink six girls and present them to the Prof. The device would be programmed for only six uses before the Prof had to reset it. The Prof would take his favorite of the girls, and Jonathan would keep the other five to sell.

As expected, Greg was all-too-happy to pay handsomely for what he called his “pocket waifus.” The Prof wanted all the girls in his selection to be shrunk to 1/32nd (3.125%) of their original size, but Greg inquired if he could get some at varying sizes, so the Prof started resizing some or all of the girls for Greg after he had made his selection. As the Prof was more dependent on Jonathan for his services than Greg was, Jonathan was careful not to disclose anything about the Prof’s identity to Greg lest the techbro try to cut out the middleman.

The arrangement had become a routine. Jonathan took his habitual seat on the couch to watch the Prof choose this month’s girl. While Jonathan had been transferring the shrunken girls to the display tank, the Prof had retrieved his magnifying glass, through which he was now peering at the latest catch.

The first girl Jonathan had shrunk that month could have been a stripper; in fact he had met her sitting at a club watching other girls going through the moves. Jonathan thought she was on a break or perhaps a friend of one of the dancers. Tall, blonde, and top-heavy with long legs, Audrey was actually a dental hygienist looking to make a career change. Jonathan told her he knew the owner of another club and could get her a favorable audition, and when she showed up he shrank her right outside the club door.

He spotted Deirdre at a bar. A thicc dark girl, black but something else also in there, Puerto Rican maybe. He could have used her in either of his businesses. She didn’t fall for his “you could be a model” approach and he moved on only to run into her a couple of days later at a grocery store. Encouraged by the second chance, he followed her to an out-of-sight corner of the parking lot and shrank her before she reached her car.

Janey was this short blonde with a huge caboose who came up to Jonathan hoping to score some fentanyl. She must have needed them for someone else, because she didn’t go into withdrawal after being shrunk and spending two weeks in his beer cooler.

The Y was not one of Jonathan’s usual hunting grounds, but as he realized that he only needed a few seconds out of sight and alone to grab a girl for the Prof, he had become much more opportunistic. Rebecca was a chunky redhead with glasses that he caught just as she was leaving the Y after her workout. Her glasses got knocked off when he grabbed her, so she couldn’t see more than an inch in front of her.

Jonathan was planning to set Barb up as one of his regular girls, primarily as she was willing to get into his car and she didn’t look like the Prof’s type. A skinny white chick with very short dark brown hair, Barb was already drunk when she sat down next to Jonathan and told him to take her to his place. It was only when she said “I bet you’ve got a giant cock” that he impulsively decided to show her just how giant it was.

Emma had been a waitress at a noodle place not too far from the Prof’s condo. Jonathan hadn’t really noticed her until he was leaving the restroom and the kitchen door swung open, affording him a momentary glimpse of Emma bending over for something on the floor and pointing her round ass at him. He scoped her out further when she walked by his table a few minutes later: short, chubby, some kind of Southeast Asian girl with long dark brown hair. Emma was the subject of Jonathan’s first experiment with using the device at long range. After her shift was over he followed her at a distance of around fifty feet and when she went around a corner he saw that no one was about and he shrank her without hesitation.

@miss-lillipants This reminds me of one of my favorite tropes. Sometimes a giant has a SW totally enclosed in one of his hands, and for whatever reason he doesn’t want to release or reveal her. This happens often enough that they develop a kind of semaphore, where he communicates through combinations of gentle squeezes on certain areas of her body and she responds with pre-arranged sequences of contortions.

This can occur in other areas of the giant’s body, but he can only really effectively reply through his hand and fingers.

Where ya taking all those school girls? by Jessica Rae

The Miniature Wife by Manuel Gonzales

@SmolChlo

“Excuse me, are we on a coffee break?”

“I can’t lift a coffee mug.”

“Then I guess the break is over. Back to work, thanks.”

by Unknown Hand

Social-media-themed size content has been one of my favorite trends in recent years, from YouTube comment streams to Instagram collages to dating apps. I’m afraid I don’t have enough (any) exposure to TikTok, so I don’t dare to try to simulate it.

@littlest-lily Being talked over, unable to participate in a conversation that will dramatically affect you.