W00t!

I never type or say “w00t”, but I’m kinda happy I finished a collage after all these weeks of not being able to go anywhere near Photoshop, and it simply erupted from within.

I want you to know I’m being very good and not posting it until I’m sure I’m done with it.

If you collage, then you also know that some of us are never truly “done” with an image, and if allowed free reign (and intravenous feeding and a catheter) we’d be tweaking them until the end of time.

But every once in a while I complete a collage and upload it right away, only to discover I forgot to create that one last shadow, or to blend some little corner; then I have to delete the image and correct the initial file, reupload, blah blah blah. It’s annoying.

So I’m gonna stare at it for a few days just to be sure it’s really as done as it’s gonna get.

What makes my heart pound about it is that I started it way back in November 2006, and it’s finally done. It’s so old my old signature was a layer:

Those little dots are stars, because the image is one of those unusual ultra giantesses I like to churn out every once in a blue moon.

Actually, what really makes my heart pound is what I’ve been imagining while collaging, about being that size.

MODS ads

Little guy painting the eye.

Tiny man sawing off nose vellus.

Micro man whitening teeth.

MODS is an image retouching or editing company in Sweden, and a few days ago I found their series of ads that show a very small worker altering images as though they provide third-dimensional interaction.

He’s small enough to enter what’s classified as a micro, a man so reduced in size he’s rendered difficult to see. Every once in a while I’m in the mood for micro, although I reiterate (for no reason besides my enjoyment in doing so) that my favorite height in a shrunken man is two little inches.

I instantly assume this shrunken person is human, male, and exactly my type. I’d need a magnifying glass to discover every manner in which he’s my type, but it’s more fun that way.

The ABC’s Game – Q is for Questions

"18-LookingForGTSGallery" by Gcode

When this out-of-the-ordinary giantess comes to town…

…Q is for Questions. People arrive in droves to her side, some to gawk, others to report, and soon the rapid-fire questions begin, from the unoriginal, to the downright rude, or the insane:

“Wow, how tall are you?”

“Are you cruel, or gentle?”

“What do you do to little guys like us?”

“Can you step on me?”

“Will you eat me?”

The cacophony is the same everywhere she visits. She closes her eyes, almost wincing, and almost smiles to herself when she thinks of what would happen if she stood to full height and stomped her foot angrily, saying, “HELLO TO YOU TOO! NICE TO MEET YOU. SO, HOW ABOUT ASKING MY NAME FIRST?”

The questions would stop, and she would have some peace. Instead she remembers to be patient, to know that not often do people say the wisest thing when their minds and eyes are overwhelmed by an astounding sight. She knows that’s what she is. She smiles openly now and readies her first answer when she notices him.

Q is for Quiet, the silent man all the way in the back, the one that carries a single flower, a gift that shows her he likes to give and not to take. She forgets what she was going to say, enthralled as she is with his face and the way he holds that single bloom she knows will get lost between the pinch of her digits.

Q is for Quintuple, those shapes that now descend for him, crossing that chasm between them, over the crowd’s voices and street. Five amazonian fingers, all longer than he is tall, not grabbing, but respectfully draping like the thickest rug over the ground for him to climb, so she may lift him to her and leave the rest behind.

* * *

In the Gcode collage I picked for this entry there isn’t a crowd milling about staring at the giantess, but it’s one of my favorite ones by him, and it’s close to what I see in my heart as the visit of a giantess. In my mind she isn’t a mad creature that likes to stomp on people, or devour them. She likes to spend time with the little ones, to enjoy the visions they offer her with their infinitesimal life, and to go home leaving them unharmed.

Most of the time, anyway.

Def Leppard – Bringin’ On The Heartbreak

Tonight

"kyodaiomune5251" by ??

Life gives you little moments, that’s for sure. Tonight I was having dinner, and I spotted a fly zooming around the room. I’m disgusted by the idea of any bug going anywhere near what’s taken for nourishment, so I set off to kill the filthy bug. I could not find it, but afterwards I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business, when I felt something land on my chest.

I glanced down at my shirt front and I couldn’t see anything. I thought it might have been the fly, but it was nowhere to be found. Minutes later I felt something flutter inside my shirt. Now, throughout my life I have never felt strong negative reactions for little critters; in fact, I’ve always thought it was ridiculous to portray women in television or comics as unable to face small animals, or screaming banshees when they see a mouse, etc.

I knew that fly was inside my shirt, and I thought I should do something about it. Well, it couldn’t very well stay there, right?

Maybe if it had been a tiny man, the kind that measures half an inch, then I would have thought differently, but a fly?

I’m usually kind and gentle, and I think I would be a very nice giantess, and a tender owner of a small man if I were to ever face a tremendous rise in height, or gain the ability to shrink others, therefore I decided to release the fly into the wild. But wait, I thought, first let’s see…. And I looked down to see where it was. It was struggling against my left bra cup, near the seam that reaches up to the shoulder strap.

I had trapped it in place by stretching my shirt against it, and imagining it was a bug-sized little man-

Oh, my god.

Another bug flew inside my shirt just now!

As I was writing the above, a tiny ladybug-looking thing landed on my chest. There must be something in the air tonight. I don’t know why they are choosing that particular location, but this surely is unprecedented.

Anyway, so I was imagining the fly was a shrunken man, wriggling his little legs and arms, perhaps shrieking and straining his voice so I might hear his insignificant pleas… so I stared down my shirt for just a few seconds, and if I was a betting woman I’d wager there was a foolish smile plastered on my face.

I walked out the door and let it fly away. I brought in the mail and made sure it wasn’t around anymore before I opened my front door again. I went inside the house, and a few minutes later I felt a tiny flutter against my chest. I looked down and there was the fly again! It had flown off and while I was still outside it had decided to come back to me. It was love, you see.

So I killed it. I crushed it with toilet paper, and I flushed it down the toilet.

Moral of the story: Don’t love me, or I will kill you.

Well, if you are a fly.

No, that’s not it.

Moral of the story: I would be a gentle giantess, unless you try my patience. I would indeed be a kind pet owner, unless you return the gift of my lenience with arrogant presumption. Disobey me and I will crush you and flush you down the toilet.

No, that’s not it either.

There’s no moral to this story. I killed it because it was a fly.

Menicure, not manicure!

Because more than one little man is necessary.

Last night I was reading MattyBoy’s latest Math post, in which he used a ladder to illustrate his point. So I’m reading about the ladder and given how my mind lives in the gutter- in fact, sometimes I think the gutter is in my mind, but never mind.

So I’m thinking a ladder is what a shrunken man needs to climb up to those hard-to-reach places that are a woman’s… well, every part of a woman except her toes and heels, because every once in a while she grows so tall even the arch of her foot is a distant domed ceiling. Anyway, I was thinking about that, and then just a few minutes ago I tripped on the Flickr image above.

It’s fun when the universe conspires to divert me. Thank you, universe.

There are other similar images (just a few) in the author’s photostream, if you wish to take a gander. Here’s another effective use of a ladder I really like.

"Ideas32" by Kassandra

The ABC’s Game – N is for No

"Push" by SpawnGTS

N is for No.

“No” is what a man might say to a giantess when she makes her way into a city without a care for the streets her giant steps crack, the cars she crushes underneath her heedless soles, the people she terrifies. When her purpose is destructive, he intercedes for those that are weak, and meets her path. He waves his arms to try to gain her attention, and says, “No! Stop! Get off the streets, move along, beat it!” It’s a tall order.

“No” is what he says when he’s decided to do what’s right. He’s no simpering weakling that mops the ground she walks on with thoughtless adoration. His knees might feel weak by the way the earth shakes, but his respect is earned by her good will, and a lack thereof only means he’ll puff up his little chest, gather his determination and courage, and march out to do what he must to make her see that her actions have consequences.

Well, they should have consequences anyway.

A sensible giantess, as used as she is of thinking little of everything and everyone around her, will bend low and strain to listen to his little squeaks, and know that such a man measures up… to her ankle, but to the heavens as well, in valor and awareness of responsibility.

“No!” is also what a little shrunken man might say on days like these, when reattaching buttons to delicate blouses with a needle as big as a lance, polishing shoes as large as monuments, wiping the smudges off prongs and precious stones and jewelry, become soft, curved, gentle, womanly tasks; shrinking chores; miniaturizing duties that speak of his infinitesimal size.

“No!“ he says.

“No?” she asks.

“You heard me. No.“

“But, dear-”

“Make me.“

“As you wish.”

* * *

*When I saved the image above by SpawnGTS, I neglected to save the title, as it is my habit. If anyone knows it, please let me know what it is, so I may update the image caption. Thank you!

Nothing to report

Good luck, Lobot.

I figure this old image has been seen by shrinking and giantess fans at least three million times. I live in the back, so I only spotted it a few days ago. Shirley you understand I had to sneak it in here and show it to y’all. I’m not sure if it’s an ad, but it was taken by Helmut Newton, who clearly had a giantess fetish, or maybe a G.I. Joe fetish.

Either way, I like the image despite its blatant display of shoes I would not be caught comatose wearing, and because I’m a proud owner of a G.I. Joe sex toy myself. It reminds me of scenes in that movie I have yet to go see, Monsters vs. Aliens, and it reminds me of the humor in that sort of situation.

Ya know, little guy with a puny weapon thinks he can take on a woman many times his size, and before you can say “squish”, he is. In my mind, bullets of any caliber tickle. In fact, missiles, aircrafts, meteorites, alien mother ships, hurling planets, swirling galaxies, they all tickle when they make impact on the skin of a giantess the various sizes I’ve imagined myself to be.

And I like his Lobot gear. What sort of input would a shrunken man get through that sort of apparatus? “Proximity warning! Alert! Alert! Danger is afoot! Warning, warnihhhfffzzzzggh- ” . I’ve mentioned to you before I’m not fond of violently crushing a little man, but every once in a while I’m in a position that helps me see the bright side in that sort of situation, particularly when I’m dealing with people that say one thing and act another, or refuse to provide me with excellent customer service, or sell me something that will break after one use.

In other news, I love my friends even though they send me endless email forwards, and choose to date / marry the wrong person, and go through silly and unnecessary cosmetic “enhancements”, and make me add one Facebook application after another.

Tell no one I reached level 17 in Mafia Wars. It’s our little secret, yes?

This is my song this week:

Anjulie – Boom

The ABC’s Game – K is for Kisses

"Cooling Him" by Ktantan

K is for Kisses, the giant ones that cover his body all at once as he feels them not only on his face, but also through the squeezing of my fingers as they close around him just a little bit tighter. I know that if I don’t hold on to him just that much more, the mist of my breath might dampen him, and he might slip from my hold, and I can’t have that.

Kisses that are wall-sized to him, that make him invariably remember how it felt when he was taller than me, before I shrank him, when even then my lips were fuller than his, and made him feel surrounded. Now he really is, and when he kisses back, his lips only cover a minuscule section of plush, velvety skin … so I tell him to continue until he’s done with every inch, every foot, every yard, and on those days I’m feeling extra tall, every mile of my lips.

Erasure – I Love Saturday

That thing I did over at that place…

That place being Giantess.com. There was this game I concocted using letters of the alphabet. I first played it at Shrinking Fantasies dot something (anybody remember that place?), and even though there were only about four people that visited that board, the game thread got a pretty decent response. I then played it a couple of times at GDC, and every time I was extremely diverted at the varied and colorful imagination of the participating members.

The thread was about letters of the alphabet. I started with “a”, introduced a word that began with it, and constructed a mini-story using that word. Of course the story had to do with giantesses or shrunken men or both. The next person followed with “b”, and his own little scene, and so on until we reached “z”, and started it all over again from “a”. Quite a few people got in on the action, so that each game had some serious amount of participation.

I was thinking about it last night as I prepared some chicken marinade. I was thinking about what to add to my blog now that I don’t have a lot of time to create entries, so those games popped into my mind. Clever chit that I am, I saved them, so here’s something from one of them accompanied by a collage I haven’t created, but that I insist goes well with it.

"Veranda01swd" by Theth

P is for Peaceful, the gentle giantess that covers the shape of little homes with her rounded shadow, and within the sphere of her protection and tender care for those weak and small. She treads roads and streets as softly as she can with feet as large as trucks, cracking the pavement anyway, but she’s forgiven quickly by those that must speed off and repair those giant zigzagging openings on the ground, because they know she’s there for them.

Softly she bends to peer into buildings and homes, smiling to see little scenes of daily life that fascinate her in their impossible size, or making her rise her eyebrows if she witnesses violence, which always stops when its perpetrator feels the wind stir and become warmer around them as she focuses her attention and temporary anger. Peaceful even in the discipline she dispenses, quiet in the justice she administers to those she catches committing violent crimes… those that are never seen again.

Her voice is soft, her demeanor calm, her life uneventful, until a violent giantess invades her territory. Then all hell breaks lose as they fight, no building is left standing, and hundreds of thousands of people die crushed as the two battle. But at least it happens in the name of Peace.