Posts made by Olo

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I found these on the now-defunct Giantess Love site, and the filename suggests an artist named “praisekek,” but I cannot find other sources or verification.

@tiny-ivy said in Taken (M/f, shrinking, non-con, fatal vore):

@olo I do find it funny that the narrator does seem like an unsexy, undeserving dom

Wonderful! I am well aware that Gordon is cast “against type” here. He’s been on a long journey, and it’s far from over.

Getting The Point Across by Flagg3D

Fem-Link vs. Titan Man by MrLohnny

@shrinkmaster Thanks, and well done!

by ShrinkMaster

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@nephilim Haven’t read it. Does that phrase come up?

@ghostwriter44 Who?

Chapter Two

My graduate advisor was unhappy with me. I had already changed my major once in my college career, and now I wanted to change it again. I didn’t see what the big deal was. My grades were fine, but my scholarship required that I “make steady progress toward a degree,” whatever that meant.

I had decided that I couldn’t continue in hard science, and I thought I ought to learn more about what motivates people. My advisor raised a skeptical eyebrow when I told him I wanted to change to Political Science.

“Just promise me you won’t become a lawyer,” he said, shaking his head and signing the approval form.

I doubt anyone noticed that I was the only student in Intro to Political Theory who wasn’t a freshman, not even the instructor who had access to the official roster. They weren’t much younger than me at all, but it’s amazing what a difference a couple of years can make in one’s perspective.

They were so naïve. They took everyone’s statements at face value, and they presumed everyone always acted in good faith. They couldn’t understand how there could be injustice or poverty anywhere. Fortunately, I had become well-practiced at keeping quiet and observing.

The unit started with Machiavelli, who scandalized almost the whole class but who I found hilarious. No one else seemed to give a single thought to how his personal misfortune at the hands of the Medicis would color his political philosophy. They all just dismissed him as a simple apologist for “might makes right.”

When we got to the Enlightenment, we were assigned to small groups to analyze and give presentations on specific writers. My group got Jonathan Swift. The other three students were named Jeff, Brianna, and Stacey. We each picked a different text from the instructor’s selection. I was quite pleased with my choice of A Modest Proposal.

Our first planning session was at the Student Union, although on a completely different floor from where I had taken Rosa and the others. Brianna and Stacey were already there when I arrived. I had apparently walked into the punchline of a joke, they were so cracked up. They couldn’t even say ‘hi’ when I sat down; Brianna just gave a little wave as she tried and failed to repress a shit-eating grin, and Stacey made eye contact for less than two seconds before dissolving back into laughter.

Both women had dark brown hair and light brown skin, but Brianna was a little shorter and thicker while Stacey had a wider face and long, straight hair. Brianna’s hair was all curls, but I could never tell if those things were natural or the result of some kind of perm.

I let the two women recompose themselves while I got my laptop out and found the power and ethernet ports in the table. When I had all my texts and notes open, I gave Stacey an innocent look and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Stacey looked impishly at Brianna, then turned back to me and said, “Brianna found something…weird.” I turned to Brianna and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing,” said Brianna dismissively. “Just some Gulliver’s Travels fanfiction.”

Now it was my turn to feign indifference. “How funny could that be?”

“It’s from the Second Voyage,” said Stacey, “you know, the land of the giants. What’s it called, Brob—, Blob—”

“Brobdingnag,” I said.

“Yeah, so the giant ladies of the court play with Gulliver, right?” continued Stacey. “Well, this story is told from the perspective of one of the court ladies, and it’s basically about how they use him as a sex toy.”

I looked at Brianna, whose face was not easy to read. Her wide, deep brown eyes were neither embarrassed nor amused nor even smug. She met my gaze calmly, with a hint of defiance.

“From your personal collection?” I asked airily.

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head slightly. “I found it while researching the assignment, numb-nuts. I don’t think we can work it into the presentation, but I think it makes Swift’s point rather effectively.”

“And that point is?” I pressed.

“That however advanced and sophisticated and civilized people may seem, you can never get away from their baser instincts. Some amount of exploitation is inevitable.”

“So you consider what these ladies do to Gulliver to be instinctual? Like, natural?”

“Sure. How exciting could court be? Tiny dude shows up, they got him all to themselves. Why not? I’d try it for sure.”

“Do they get his consent?” I asked.

Both Brianna and Stacey laughed hard at that. “Not really,” said Brianna. “They pretend to ask and he pretends to agree, but he can’t truly refuse them. That’s just how it goes, the big rule the small, the strong dominate the weak.”

I nodded as Brianna made her argument. She was right, it really did explain Swift’s philosophy. “Where did you find this fanfiction?”

“Some online archive,” said Brianna. “It claims it was originally published in Playboy.”

“I’ll send it to you,” said Stacey, tapping at her keyboard. The Received notification chimed on my laptop just as Jeff finally arrived and sat down. I saved the document but I didn’t look at it until I got home a few hours later.

Before I had even left the planning session I was already starting to consider Brianna as my next target for taking. The decision was already made; all that remained was raising objections and then rebutting them one by one.

She was smart, which might make containment a challenge. I needed to be challenged, I thought. I couldn’t let myself become complacent. That Rosa could conceal her purging from me for so long was sufficient evidence of that.

Brianna’s face was sweet, almost disarming. Plump cheekbones that became even more prominent when she busted out her toothy smile, which she seemed ready to do for almost any occasion. Far from guileless, she simply felt entitled to take joy wherever she found it. If you were patient, however, you could see deep currents of thought flowing swiftly behind her brown eyes.

The top of Brianna’s head only came up to the bottom of my nose, although her hair was so voluminous and omnidirectional that it was hard to be precise. Sometimes, she wore tops that made her boobs look as big as grapefruits, and she looked magnificent in yoga pants (to be fair, so did almost every other woman on campus).

I needed to determine her pattern to find the best time to take her. Coordinating the presentation planning yielded a few clues, but I didn’t dare inquire too directly. The big break came when Brianna mentioned that she worked part-time at Starbucks. Of course there were a half-dozen locations in and around campus, but when I learned when she was working next, I scouted all six.

Once I had identified her place of work, I needed an observation post outside corporate surveillance. It turned out Briana’s Starbucks was right across from Town & Gown, a decades-old establishment and the last independent coffee house in the U-District. When I was a freshman they had tried competing by serving high-end beans that I liked, but that must not have worked because they went back to the local roastery and brought in a pastry case from a trendy bakery.

I loitered with my Americano until a window table opened up, then I settled in for my watch. Brianna’s shift lasted longer than I expected, almost six hours. Fortunately business at the Town & Gown wasn’t so brisk that they needed the table. Even without refills, it was hard on my bladder.

Finally I spotted Brianna leaving the Starbucks in her jacket and backpack. I tried not to look hurried as I got up from the table and staggered out of the Town & Gown on my cramping legs.

I didn’t know whether Brianna lived in the dorms or somewhere off-campus. It was after dark on a school night, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was going straight home. At that point, my goal was just to learn more about her habits, possibly locate her residence. Keeping my distance was my primary concern.

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I found myself fondling the medallion. It suddenly struck me: Why am I carrying this with me? I realized it had been on my person every day since I had concluded my “experimentation.” Why? It was without question the most precious object in my possession. Why was I risking its loss by carrying it everywhere?

In my self-interrogation, I almost lost track of Brianna. We were still off-campus, but her route was taking her in that direction. I still had no good idea of where I might be able to take her unobserved. As she walked from streetlight to streetlight, she dimmed from view as she left each pool of light.

It occurred to me that I didn’t need to be unobserved when I physically grabbed her; there’s nothing suspicious about stooping to pick something up from the sidewalk. I just needed to time it so her “disappearance” wouldn’t be obvious.

Everything suddenly became more urgent. I couldn’t take her right there; there were too many light sources and too much foot traffic on the street. Who knew when I might catch her out after dark again? She was almost back on campus; where was the nearest dorm? I hadn’t planned to take her that night. I’d been following her for a while; had she spotted me? I really needed to pee.

I fingered the medallion nervously. I must have been carrying it for a reason. As Brianna crossed onto campus, her path became illuminated less frequently. There was less foot traffic, and trees partially obscured the path from the windows of nearby buildings. She passed into the darkness again.

When Brianna stepped again into the light, I was about forty meters behind her. She was probably aware of me on some level, but did she realize I had been following her for over three blocks? If she had recognized me, wouldn’t she have addressed me by now?

LOOK AT HER. Don’t you want her in your hand, in your mouth? There she goes into the darkness again, no one is watching, how long will this last? If she knows you’re following her you’ll never get another chance. Do it. TAKE HER NOW.

I quickened my pace. Brianna stepped into the light one last time, and I saw her clearly: her hair, her jacket, her backpack, her hips, her legs. I needed to shrink her the moment she left the light completely. Time seemed to crawl as I fixed her image in my mind while pinching the medallion. Her trailing foot lifted off the pavement and up into the darkness and I saw her tiny on the path just outside the pool of light.

She disappeared, of course. I redoubled my speed, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention. No shouts of alarm reached me as my awareness narrowed to the dimly-lit path and adjacent grass. My stomach soured as I realized that the same shadow that had cloaked Brianna’s shrinking would also make it difficult for me to locate her. The old joke about the drunk looking for his keys under the streetlight came bitterly to mind.

I slowed when I reached the spot where Brianna had disappeared. I briefly entertained the fantasy that she would come scurrying into the light, seeking my assistance, but of course that didn’t happen. I knelt down just beyond the pool of light, scrutinizing the path and the verge on either side, waiting for my eyes to re-adjust to the dark.

I screwed up, I thought. She’s hiding in the tall grass and I’ll never find her. A raccoon or an owl is going to get her. Or worse, she’ll find help. I glanced up and over my shoulder, but no one seemed to be approaching. I might still have time.

A spark—there. A tiny figure, her face illuminated by an equally tiny phone. I never did test if those things still worked after being shrunk. No time for that now. I lunged forward and shot my arm toward the shrunken woman. She jumped back but not far enough to evade my grasping fingers, which curled around her wriggling form.

The first thing that I noticed was that she was significantly bigger than shrunken Rosa despite having been shorter than Rosa was before I took her. The tiny woman in my hand was at least four-inches-tall. I couldn’t be certain how that had happened, probably a combination of the distance and poor illumination at the moment that I “saw” her small.

I stood back up to my full height and snatched her tiny phone away with my other hand before bringing her close to drink in her terrified face. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I dropped her phone onto the path and ground it into the cement with my shoe.

“Welcome to Brobdingnag,” I said.

Even in the dim light, watching her recognition of both me and my intention spread across her tiny face was a singular marvel. I dared not linger at the scene, so I thrust my fist and my prize into my jacket pocket. She struggled fiercely against my grip, and anyone standing nearby would know something was amiss with my pocket. I wanted to listen to her cries of desperation, but getting home undetected was my only goal.

I strode furiously across campus as I debated my performance. On the one hand, I did it! I could feel her helpless body in my grasp at that very moment. No one seemed to have seen me take her, and there was no reason to connect me to her disappearance.

On the other hand, I had been completely unprepared. I didn’t have my satchel, which would have been very useful in holding and concealing this woman almost half again as big as the others. How was I going to contain her?

Then again, I had improvised the whole taking. I could only have done that because I had practice and foresight. It had been risky, but a calculated risk. I thought back to my feelings immediately before I took her. Had I been acting out of compulsion or confidence? I just didn’t know.

I glanced up and noticed a surveillance camera on top of a lamppost. Fuck. It had to have night-vision capacity. Were any of them covering the spot where I took her? You don’t know because you didn’t scout the route, you fuckup.

If I had planned the taking, I would at least have worn a hoodie. Shit. I steadied my pace and took some deep breaths. Think. Night-vision cameras were lo-res, and I had shrunk her just as she was transitioning out of the light. What would that look like on camera? If you didn’t know shrinking was possible, it probably wouldn’t look like anything. Furthermore, unless someone knew to tell Campus Safety to look at that precise time and location, there wouldn’t be a reason to suspect a thing.

I began to relax a little. My pocket captive had stopped struggling, alternately limp in my grip or tensing against irregular jostling. I realized her little round ass was nestled up against the top of my palm. I started to slide my pinky between her thighs, and she instantly squeezed them shut.

I snorted, letting the sharp sound resonate through my belly to her in my pocket, then I shoved my pinky through, effortlessly spreading her tiny legs apart. Back and forth my finger stroked her, massaging her taint and separating her butt cheeks.

She bit me. She found a tender spot between my thumb and forefinger and sunk her tiny incisors into my flesh. My instinct was not to react at all, but my hand reflexively loosened its grip slightly, surely noticeable to someone of her scale.

Her response forced me to confront the fact that I had not fully prepared my program for acclimating her to her new life. I had delivered my “pickup line,” but I was dissatisfied with the rest of my rhetoric. I knew physical demonstrations would be the most effective, but Rosa had shown how defiance could go unnoticed and unchecked. I needed to be able to rely on more than just my size.

I reached my apartment building. Typically, I would ascend the three flights of stairs, particularly when I was this impatient. My bladder, however, threatened to collapse if I subjected it to any further exertion, so I called for the elevator.

I didn’t say anything when another resident entered the car, but the shrunken woman in my pocket must have heard the footsteps and tried to cry for help. I had to cover her face with my thumb, earning me another deep bite.

Reaching my floor, I stepped swiftly but delicately out of the elevator and down the hall to minimize the impact on my bladder. Unlocking the door with my off-hand, I staggered straight to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and finally withdrew my shrunken prisoner from my jacket pocket and set her down roughly on top of the toilet tank.

She got back to her feet as I hastily lifted the seat and undid my pants. Pulling out my cock, I placed my other hand against the wall above her and leaned forward to finally release my stream. She appeared gratifyingly horrified as she craned her neck back to look from my looming face to my powerful torrent and back. Less gratifying were her possibly judgmental glances at the state of my bachelor bathroom.

This is not at all how I imagined this would go, I thought. The key is to impress upon her her role in this new relationship. Don’t show panic or hurry. Believe you are in control and she will, too.

She recovered her voice after I finished and went to the sink to wash my hands. “What the fuck, dude! What the hell did you do to me? You better fucking reverse it now!”

I ignored the sting of both her words and the soap as it got into my fresh bite-wounds. I looked appraisingly at my reflection in the mirror and I found it untroubled.

I turned and reached for my protesting little guest. She tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run on her porcelain promontory. I plucked her about her ribcage with my thumb and forefinger, then stood up and held her precariously above the acrid toilet bowl. With an expectant expression, I held her gaze for several moments while she halted the inertia of her indignation. Satisfied, I flushed the toilet and took her to the kitchen.

Rosa’s terrarium was still on my kitchen table. It’s not Rosa’s anymore, I reminded myself. I set my new pet down on the table with the gentleness befitting her station, then I removed my jacket and sat down. Initially I said nothing, enjoying the sight of her methodically taking in her new world.

“Welcome to your new home,” I said finally.

She flinched at my voice, of course, but then her exasperation overcame her terror. “Gordon. What. The. Hell,” she said, gesturing forcefully with widespread hands on each word.

“You have been irreversibly shrunk,” I explained patiently. “You will live out the rest of your days as my pet.”

Her eyes went wide, then dismissively narrow. “Ha!” she exclaimed, tossing her head. “This is bullshit.”

I gave an indulgent smile. “To help you appreciate your new position, Pet, you are no longer to address me by the name I use with people. You will call me Master, or Lord, or—”

“Fuck that noise!” she shouted, becoming hysterical. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but there’s no way I’m gonna call a loser like you ‘Master’. I mean, look at this dump! Master of the Universe you ain’t. I bet you couldn’t get a girl on your own, so you had to go steal your Daddy’s shrink-ray.”

With each word of her tirade, adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream. I knew her defiance required a response, but what? Violence? Humiliation? Torture? Neglect? Somehow all these options seemed too overwhelming, too over-the-top. Too out-of-control.

I calmly but abruptly stood up and loomed over the table. She reflexively backed up, watching me with wide eyes and heaving breaths. I reached into the terrarium and deliberately removed the bed, the table, the chair, and the couch, setting them all down at one end of the table.

Sitting back down, I kept all warning out of my face before shooting my hand toward her and plucking her by her backpack. Lifting her a couple of inches above the tabletop, I jerked the pack side-to-side until her arms slipped through the straps and she fell onto the table with an agreeable grunt.

Before she could get up, I pinned her face-down with a single fingertip on her ass. I pinched the tail of her jacket and pulled it over her head, forcing her arms up as they slid out of the sleeves. That’s rough enough, I thought.

I placed her pack and jacket next to the extracted furniture. Lifting my finger from her butt, I rolled her up into my fist. The terrarium was now bare except for my homemade toilet, and I laid my pet on the terrarium floor, neither roughly nor gently.

I didn’t spare her a glance as I got up to gather my instruments: adhesive tape, my X-Acto knife, tweezers, some twist-ties, and the one new item I had had the foresight to acquire, a swing arm magnifying lamp.

All of these I arrayed on the kitchen table in front of the terrarium. I then directed my stern gaze at my defiant pet, who looked ashen and said nothing. After a couple of moments I grabbed my jacket and left the apartment and didn’t return for four hours.

Commission - Chris Eats Tinies by AdjectiveNounCombo

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@technomage No higher praise; thank you!