She's neither cold, nor cold-hearted
I think ultra giantesses get a bum rap. I’ve read arguments at the boards about interaction, and how it becomes increasingly difficult as the giantess rises in height. While such concern for realism is touching, I’m going to have to say that the very moment one begins to fantasize about beings of drastically different sizes, one should abandon all endeavors in trying to convey a penchant for realism. 
Interaction is possible between all sizes. It doesn’t matter if the giantess wears Earth as a pendant that swings from her neck with every step she takes in space, or if the shrunken man is so small his ride is a microscopic mite that lives on his wife’s inner thigh; if the thought we are having makes us tingle, then whatever arguments against it, however logical and entertaining, stem from the naysayer’s inability to feel the same shiver of delight, and not from the imagined knowledge of physics, biology, chemistry, etc., regarding someone measuring an incredible height.
In other words, it is perfectly natural for me to enjoy the vision of growing thousands of miles until a single footprint is the size of a country, and at the same time being able to carry a conversation with the recipient of my attention and the target of my blatant display of size superiority. I understand many people don’t feel the same way; I comprehend the desire to discuss our various preferences and the reasons why we have them; and I will never get why anyone becomes agitated when a member of the community likes something they don’t.
But let’s forget those people! They aren’t here anyway. I love the thought of growing so tall this planet becomes my own pet rock. There’s no connection between that fantasy and destruction: I don’t inhale all of Earth’s atmosphere in a single breath, I don’t dent the planet’s layers or shift them with my weight when I move or lounge, I do nothing that causes the death of a single person. On the contrary, all I do is bring pleasure to one little man of normal size, and myself.
It’s the closest I get to weaving the “goddess” concept into my giantess fantasies. A being that size who is also omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent can very well be defined as a deity. If a man- if the man was to look out his window and see the sky overtaken by the shape of a face he knows well, blue gone and replaced by the deep pink of her lips as she blows kisses that melt every cloud in his direction, day transformed into a temporary night brightened by the playful glint in her eyes as large as moons… I bet he’d have worshipful thoughts, if he’s able to think at all.
I can imagine being in her place, all the way up here, looking down and seeing everything, but focusing my attention on that little window that frames his sweet little body and shows me he just dropped his pants. I’d have a hard time thinking coherently as well.
Long story short: Fire bad, ultra giantesses good.
This is a terrible song, but I can’t help liking it.
Men Without Hats – Antarctica
