A mega giantess dream

A few nights ago I dreamed I received a pair of boots. I don’t remember the rest of the dream; only that the boots were brown, lace-up, ankle high, and had a thick, soft lining of make-believe fur. Last night I was at a birthday reunion and someone there pulled a pair of boots from a bag, and gave them to me. The boots looked like the ones in my dream. I didn’t say anything about the dream, or thought much about it, because I no longer place any value in premonitory psychic “bites” I receive in my dreams. They’ve brought me nothing but meh, as they are inconsequential at best. Remember that Christopher Walken skit where he spoofs his “Dead Zone” character as he predicts inane events? That’s me and my dreams about the future. No lotto numbers, no presages about terrorist attacks, nothing important or meaningful or useful.

A while back I had this dream that I was watching TV when a news announcer interrupted whatever regular programming to inform viewers about the sudden emergence of two volcanoes somewhere in central U.S. I’m not going to embarrass myself by showing my ignorance of U.S. geography and admitting that when the dream TV showed satellite photos of the two volcanoes, I thought they were in Utah. The material point is that the event was cataclysmic in nature to the degree that mass extinction was imminent, as the volcanoes’ craters were hundreds of miles in diameter, and their ash clouds would eventually cover us all. Naturally I decided to use my growth powers to save the day.

Normally that is the moment in a dream when I feel myself grown, and all manner of tingly fun takes place. Instead, the next second I found myself an ultra giantess. I’d thought that if I also grew the ice cubes in my freezer, I could put them in the craters, effectively extinguishing them; so I found myself carrying a cumbersome amount of ice cubes cupped in my palms and against my body. I looked at “Utah” (really Kansas), and to my dismay I discovered that someone had already dumped ice cubes in the volcanoes, and done a piss-poor job of it. Some of them were scattered about, crushing neighboring cities, and there weren’t enough cubes to counter all the lava beginning to bubble forth from where Topeka and Burlington used to be.

Never mind that my feet crushed thousands more as I approached the pot-sized volcanoes and put them out with my ice cubes. In a normal giantess dream this would have been the time to come on to a city and make out with it, have my way with its citizens in a gentle fashion, kill almost no one as an inevitable consequence… but no. I completed my task and woke up, feeling frustrated and wtf’ed. To prevent this terrible dream from ever coming true, I’m abstaining from making ice cubes for the following twelvemonth. That ought to take care of it.

Those Korean Air ads!

I just had to. Love them!

(Ten days later….)

This is what “I just had to” means: I had to post the video even though I still don’t own my own computer, because I really enjoyed it when I saw it on TV. Remember that poker face I’ve mentioned before? The one I sport when I spot media that relates to “this”? The kind that makes me hope no one notices what I’m thinking. Well, when this ad came on, I was so into it that I never noticed people in the room calling my name once, twice, three times. Nope, I was in my own giant world, wishing I was roaming those little cities, thinking That should be me one hundred times before I realized someone was trying to get my attention. 

The man in these ads should either be much smaller, or not there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4k_v3zNJu0

Afternoon Meeting

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Scent

Isn’t it funny when someone from the giantess community tries to explain to you why your particular take fantasy isn’t feasible? “How can you possibly enjoy imagining a two-inch-tall man? You can’t feel him. What can you do to him?” And of course you see them later carrying on about what giantesses do to buildings (which everyone knows couldn’t possible ever happen).

Of course I can feel a man even if he only measures two inches in height. I can certainly hear everything he says, and I can most definitely smell him. It is every small stimuli as perceived by me that drives me crazy about these visions of a small man, although depending on my mood it can work the other way around—the imagining of every giant effect I have on things and people around me.

Scent.jpg appears to be about the latter, but the story I tell myself about it is about both sides of the coin. First there’s the overwhelming of a man when I shrink him (or when I grown, whatever), the overtaking of his senses when I cut him off his previous life and provide for his every need in the precise way I decide. It’s so much fun to imagine his initial resistance, his horror of what I’ve done to him almost immediately begin to mingle with irrepressible arousal. And I love to imagine that even the air he breathes makes it to his bitty lungs because I allow it to do so.

I fill that air with me. Every time he inhales he can sense a part of me, and how hot it is to think that he can compose a geography of me in his mind from every different scent he detects. To the north is a vast field that smells of lemon and herbs when he decides to get lost in my hair. As he travels south there’s the minty fresh breezes from my breath (we’re going to forget about morning breath just now, as I’m not into torturing a little guy). Farther he walks to more heavily perfumed lands, until he reaches that most hidden place that has given him his own new fragrance…. I love to tell him, “That’s right little honey, I took away the way your skin smells, and replaced it with my scent.” A woman loves to mark her territory, no matter how tiny it is.

Every once in a while he smells like himself, especially after a nice bath in the bathroom sink, or with me in the shower. Then I can lift him to my nose and ever so slightly, behind soap and shampoo molecules I can still pick up his own manly scent, sweet and virile at the same time. It melts me.

Anyway, all that happens before I set him down gently on the floor, before Scent.jpg takes place. Down there everything he gets rains down on him by the grace of me. It can be torrential and fulfilling, or a frustrating trickle. You have no idea how much fun it is to watch such a small man’s heave, tremble, and scream with dissatisfaction because the promised land is so far above him, beyond his reach, and the one that promised it to him can only tease him about its distance, only allowing him to see it, to smell it, to watch what happens to it without any help from his puny body, thank you very much.

Anything that happens after that is equally wonderful and free of frustration. As I said, I don’t torture my little ones. Well, not often.

Undressing

And putting on a show

Is it not time for another collage? How long has it been? I’m not sure, but I started this collage 364 days ago, and I’m glad it’s done. More later.

Batgiantess

Who needs Batman when we have Batgiantess?

Every once in a while I experience bad dreams in batches. These past few nights have been pretty rough in the nightmare department. I think it’s my brain’s way of balancing things out because I never had them when I was a child. Or I don’t remember having them, which amounts to the same thing. Last night involved the end of all life as we knew it because we (humans) became food for monsters. These monsters utilized dragons and robots to gather us, the same way we use tractors to harvest a field of wheat.

There was a moment in the dream during which I happened to find myself running for my life alongside the enormous paw of a dragon as it pulverized the street and surrounding buildings. I remember thinking in the dream, “What if that were to be the foot of a giantess? My foot?” Later I thought how funny it was that even during a dream, my dream self will suddenly find herself wondering about this stuff.

That’s not to say I imagine I’ll ever fantasize about being a giantess if my life is ever in real peril. I don’t think the adrenaline and whatever survival imperative functioning at that moment (“rescue family” or “kill intruder” or “put out fire” or whatever) will allow for anything masturbatory to take place simultaneously. God I hope not. I’m already abnormal enough as it is.

Days ago I was searching for collaging material —who knows why since I have no time for the activity these days, and when I do have time I spend it doing other things I find more fun— and I found this image of Heidi Jensen, an actress who was once in an episode of Batman. I trimmed it a bit as you see above and it makes for such a great perspective shot, don’t you think? I used to watch Batman reruns when I was a toddler, and I can’t help but think it would have been fantastic if somehow a giantess would have managed to make her way into an episode or two. I could have used her in my dream as well. She would have made quick work of those dragons and robots.

Lifesize

Though romantic love is biology’s pretty chemical imbalance designed to trick us into propagating our species, I like this song by A Fine Frenzy. I had not heard of the group until one of my Facebook buddies posted the video and I spotted it on my feed. You can see how the lyrics are —after a bit of tweaking— perfect for me.

A Fine Frenzy – Lifesize

I stood so tall I caught a plane
by the wing and held it safe
Until I found it a place to land
I laid across the ocean wide
Bridged the gap in record time
The people traveled across and kissed my hands

All for love I become

Larger than lifesize, wondersome
Great in the eyes of everyone
Larger than lifesize I become
Great in the eyes of everyone

I smiled so bright the sun went down
Rose above the maddening crowd
I lit the streets with the sweetest glow
I held the globe and made it turn
Wandered through the universe
The men of science observed through telescopes

All for love I become

Larger than lifesize, wondersome
Great in the eyes of everyone
Larger than lifesize I become
Great in the eyes of everyone

Orcs by Stan Nicholls

I’m reading Stan Nicholls’s series Orcs: First Blood. The three books have been packed into one as pictured on the right. It’s not the type of reading that grasps my interest so deeply that I find it impossible to put down, but I like it. I like that the female characters aren’t weeping, defenseless, stupid characters, but powerful, and seriously skilled. The fastest way to lose my readership is to sink female fictional characters into cliché molds.

(Which is one of the reasons I despise the movie Casablanca. “You’ll have to think for both of us.” Excuse me? “Where I’m going you can’t follow…” Fuck you, Sam. I’m sure she would have allowed him out of the cage every now and then to begin beautiful friendships with tiny French men.)

(I also love that movie. Can’t help but love it. But I hate those lines. I bet Ilsa would have rocked a Lee Enfield or an M-1. Or explosives. Or poison. Or a sharp blade to a palpitating Nazi throat. Or some lovely shrinking potion calmly delivered before hot intercourse with the enemy shortly before death by snu snu.)

(Anyway!)

I’m reading the last book of the trilogy, getting through a few pages in bed every night before I drift off to sleep. But a few days ago I read a passage that perked me up quite effectively, and made sleep impossible for a while. Here are some bits of it:

“The gigantic moon, just beginning to set behind the mountain range, had transformed into a face. It had the features of a female, and one he knew too well. Her hair was black, her eyes were unfathomable.”

“A hand rose from behind the range. It was of the same incredible scale as the face. its unnaturally slender fingers, tipped with nails half as long again, clutched some vast object. With an almost casual flip, the hand pitched its load toward the plain.

Stryke stared, dumbfounded, as the thing tumbled end over end and hit the ground at an angle. A massive plume of dust went up. The earth shuddered. Then the object bounced, spun in the air, came down and bounced again.”

“He was trapped like an insect, watching as a great boot descended to grind him to pulp.”

I know it’s not outright giantess fodder, but I like it. It reminded me of all those times I’ve fantasized about being that tall, and playing with a planet (and some really hot man standing somewhere on it) in very imaginative ways. And now to pester Stan Nicholls and demand that he writes something I can truly read with one hand.

So I play social games, so what?

You know he's named it, and talks to it.

It wasn’t a year ago that I started to receive all these invitations from some of my Facebook friends, to join them in playing pretend games I thought were a colossal waste of time.

Apparently I think a large number of things are a waste of time, except my own fruitless endeavors.

I adamantly refused to accept these invitations, until my brother invited me to play Pet Society, a Flash game that allows you to create a virtual pet (not as awesome as my iPet) you can clean, groom, dress, and that lives in a home you can also furnish, in a neighborhood you’ve created by adding Facebook people on your list that have also been tricked into playing the same game.

Then I was somehow bamboozled into adding FarmVille, and a couple of others. Now, in the beginning all these games provoked in me the same feeling: I’d rather stab my ear repeatedly with a Q-tip than play this stupid thing. Later I would advance some levels and inevitably become bored with the game, deleting it.

Well, almost inevitably. I still have Pet Society and FarmVille, but only fritter away at them a few minutes each week, and there’s a third game that has just captured my… um, heart? Imagination? I’m gonna go with excitement, I think. I’m talking about Island Paradise, another farming game that provides you with a little character stranded on an island, where trees and several plots for seeding, plowing and harvesting provide experience points.

The only reason I started playing this game (no one actually sent me a request to add it, I found it on my own) is because the setting is similar to one of my giantess fantasies, a fairly common one I think. Man finds himself pulling a Cast Away on an uninhabited bit of land, lives off whatever he can scavenge from this land, and soon realizes He Is Not Alone. Ground rumbles, giantess appears, and takes wild and passionate possession of man.

So how could I resist when, a few days ago, the game released a Giant Sandal? I mean, look at it! My little pixel guy is such a tiny thing when I place him next to it. I can just close my eyes and imagine a real man, just as comparatively small when he finds that huge flip-flop half buried in the sand. I can picture his shock as he wonders how it got there (“It wasn’t here yesterday!”), and his curiosity as he looks around for signs of life, of the group of people that must have carried the giant “prop” and left it there to bake in the sun. Surely they’ll rescue him and take him back to civilization!

But there’s no one. Only a warm breeze that for some strange reason comes to him from inland; sounds he can’t recognize yet as tree branches breaking in the distance; bizarre formations in the sand where it sinks at intervals; but no people.

So he drags the flip-flop to his encampment, and they become very close. That is until its fantastically tall owner appears, looking for it. I can hardly be blamed for liking this game. Now excuse me, I have to go harvest some fake string beans through the action of many mouse clicks, as I envision all the hot things that are happening to those two.

Two Words

I wrote this for my Two Words thread at GDC almost four years ago, and I’m reposting it as it is, however sorely tempted I am to edit it. The word provider was Mymiridion, who was new to the board back then. Sometimes I still miss that place, and all the little things (and little people) that made it such a cool board.

Odor, Oxygen

It happened every time she came to visit. The sun warmed his house. The wind moved through the branches of the maple tree that grew outside his window. The pendulum of his grandfather clock ticked faithfully. His fingers moved on the keyboard as he wrote.

Then it all stopped. Every time.

The leaves stopped dancing, the clock stopped noticing time, his lungs stopped expanding until his brain cried for oxygen, and he always inhaled sharply when he felt that first tremor of the ground shake his house from foundation to roof.

A pungent odor reached his nostrils, and his eyes shifted long enough to register that the bottle of beer he had been drinking had tipped down the side of his desk, and shattered. He didn’t care. Soon, he would only be smelling her. The light blinked and then went out as she walked past power lines, and a shadow that was more than darkness covered his house.