Well, you’d think that copying and pasting a few paragraphs would make posting these every Wednesday a bit easier. As it turns out, there’s an insane level of busy that doesn’t permit such simple blogging maneuvers. These two words were provided as part of the game by a giantess community member by the name of IncredibleShrinkinI. Wherever he is, I send him a warm hello, and my thanks!
* * *
Backseat, Piano
The polishing cloth scratched the palm of his hand as he worked, its interwoven threads thick as ropes to him. He stopped long enough to switch hands. His discomfort took a backseat to her needs; she had always made that very clear. He looked up and over his work to watch her apply the finishing touches to her hair and makeup. She was ready.
“Is it done?” she asked without looking at him.
“Nearly.”
“Nearly what?”
“Nearly… mistress.”
“That’s a good little man,” she said, getting up and walking towards him. He braced himself for what followed, yet still felt his every bone rattle when she set her elbows on her dresser to give his efforts a closer look. The shock of her descent plucked a steel tooth inside the music box mechanism, as large as a piano key to him. The vibrating note tickled his ears, and he shook his head.
“It looks great! Thank you, little one,” she said, her breath a wind that played with his hair. He stood up and away from her reaching fingers and she picked up the ring he had been cleaning. His heart felt heavier now that she was leaving.
“Will you be out very late?” he asked, hating the needy tone in his voice. She was walking away, leaving him on top of the dresser when she turned her head and answered.
“I don’t know, little one. It’s a blind date, after all. Don’t wait up for me.”
It’s a game. I used to play it at my old blog in the way of entries, and at my favorite board as a thread. Possibly at other, conventional boards too, but if asked which ones I will deny it emphatically.
It’s certainly not a new idea, but back then I had not seen it done at giantess boards, and it (they, because it happened more than once) got a lot of participation that showed an intense level of creativity on the members’ part, and well-known authors in the community made it amazing to read.
I thought I’d publish one game entry here every Wednesday, until I run out. The first post described the rules, which were fairly straightforward (no collages will be included, just for variety… unless I happen to have something fitting at hand):
Describe a short scene using the two words (verbs, nouns, whatever) the previous member has provided for you.
You must use the two words that you are given in the previous post. A coherent manner is appreciated , and even better if silly and funny.
Make your scene as short as you wish, but it has to be about the reason we all are members of this board. I’d say the shorter it is, the cleverer it needs to be.
Don’t make it too long. I’d say no more than 200 words, but I ain’t gonna fuss at you if it goes over that a bit.
Leave two words (no more, no less) for the next member to use. Don’t make them too easy. Example: I give myself the words sock, and antenna.
Sock, Antenna
On Christmas morning he woke up excited to see what she had gotten for him this year. He jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, turning around the hallway corner that led him to his living room. He could not help but smile and shake his head when he saw that she had filled a red sock of hers with his gifts, instead of using the stocking that hung empty from his chimney.
He moved along the side of the sock toward its opening, and jumped in alarm when a whirring noise came out of it, the stretchy fabric rippling as something moved underneath for a moment, and then stopped. Curious to discover his first present and the source of the noise, he leaned closer, and shrieked as a huge insect came to life and walked out of the sock toward him, emitting terrifying sounds.
Staggering backwards, he shouted, “Turn it off! NOW!” and from outside his home he heard the thundering ripple of her amused giggles as the remote-control bug’s glowing eyes went dark, and each antenna and leg stopped moving.
* * *
Hmm… maybe when I run out of entries I’ll threaten ask my gentle readers if they would like to provide me with two words for each weekly entry. Nothing like a challenge to give me an excuse to write, although no word ever proved difficult for me to use in a vignette, given the extraordinary size of my brain.
(Which should make it easy for me to stop using the word “thundering” in nearly everything I write, goodness gracious.)
B is for Brownies. I published this recipe at my old blog about eighteen months ago. I only have a few old ABC’s entries left to publish, and playing the game—even if only with myself—means I will be following the order of the letters of the alphabet from this point on, when I create new entries for this series.
I’d been planning to create a collage to accompany my brownie recipe for quite some time, but only after I found a suitable shrunken-man source image was I able to figure out the sort of photos I wanted to take of my brownies; so the image you see above is of my window, of a curtain I sewed years ago, and of brownies I baked. I think this is the first collage I’ve published that include raw images I created, instead of stealing downloading them from the Internet.
Underbrownies
7 T. butter
1 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla extract
2 eggs
1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1/3 c. cocoa
1/2 t. aluminum-free baking powder
1/4 t. sea salt
1/2 c. chopped, toasted walnuts
1. Heat oven to 350° degrees. If you have a toaster oven then you don’t have to heat up the entire kitchen to make these.
2. Grease and flour a small pan of any shape.
3. In food processor, combine butter and sugar until well mixed.
4. Add vanilla and mix until incorporated.
5. Add eggs and mix until well blended-
-Or add it all at the same time, for all I care. The result is the same when I blend it all lovingly and in order, than when I dump it all in the processor (I do recommend mixing the butter and sugar first), nuts last, and pour into pan.
6. Bake for about fifteen minutes. Don’t overbake, or you’ll end up making chocolate rock.
7. Cool, cut in sixteen pieces, and eat one with your sweetie before you kiss him/her. Brownie breath is a guaranteed shrinking potion. It only works on men, of course.
If I receive one single philistine comment about how baking is women’s work, I’ll crush ya like a twig and snap ya like a bug.
* * *
As I chose the elements for the collage above, a scene played in my head. Some will understand when I tell you that events between a shrunken man and a woman don’t always have to include sexual activities. Daily routine can become their prelude, and activities such as visiting, making friends, listening to music, cleaning the house, etc., can lay the foundation for an emotional state ripe with the right kind of tension.
In this case, the emotion I use to color interaction is a deep sense of trust combined with size-related frustration. A man that shrinks to a mere few inches in height will remember a time his wife might have baked him brownies, and he would have polished the entire plate as he watched TV, later burning those calories in the yard, or in the bedroom.
He will recall there was a time he could have closed his hand around his wife’s delicate wrist when the doorbell rang announcing relatively unwanted visitors, and he could have pulled her into his arms as he whispered, “Let’s pretend we are not home, and maybe they’ll go away….”
There is a weight pressing on him that has nothing to do with his wife’s finger or toe; a heavy feeling of helplessness as he watches his life shrink and be absorbed by his mate’s actions. The only thing that rescues him from despair is the absolute trust he feels in his beloved. It carries him as safely as her hand during moments when it seems even the air he breathes is something she allows him to have, and can take away if she so desired it; those times when his responses to disappointment regress to a child-like state; those instances when events slip away as he’s shown a shrunken man may control only that ever-changing sphere the woman that loves him declares his province; those times such as these….
“They are mine,” he said, his hips pressing possessively against the brownie closest to his hips, the one sandwiched in the middle of the stack. That tiny thrust was almost imperceptible given his size, and he seemed too angry to have meant it to be seductive, but his naked body was glued to those baked goods as though they were some sort of salvation; and that moist, warm brownie molded like clay to the shape of his body sent her thoughts adrift to other times he had moved similarly against her body.
“Honey, I can bake you more brownies after they leave, ” she said placatingly. She could see wet chocolate stains beginning to spread onto his torso and his delicious thighs, and forced herself to look away from his midriff, up to his chocolate-colored eyes. He looked good enough to eat, and he would probably taste delicious at the moment, but that sort of fun would have to wait until they were alone in the house again.
She looked over her shoulder at the bedroom door, and listened to her friends chatting in the living room. Again his voice, as diminished in volume as it now was, seemed to somehow get louder. She faced him again as he stood next to the brownies on the plate.
“I don’t want different brownies later; I want these, and I want them now!” his words ended with the whine of a child threatened by willpower much greater than his own. “You baked them for me. I’ve been waiting for you to bake me these brownies for weeks! You are going to have to give them something else to eat.” He stretched his arm along the edge of the top brownie, and his little fingers clasped it greedily. They hadn’t been out of the oven very long, but he didn’t seem to mind their warmth.
“Unfortunately I can’t help the whole house smelling like them, darling. If I had known they were coming I would have baked a double batch. Sweetie, be reasonable! You are too small to eat them all anyway! One of these little squares would last you a month- alright, a week, the way you eat sometimes.” She threw him a playful smile, but he didn’t return it.
“They should have called you first, before butting in and interrupting our weekend!”
Beginning to feel a touch of annoyance, she sighed, and watched his hair be blown back by gust of wind she had created. “Sweetie, this is the South. People don’t do that. They expect to be able to drop by casually and be served iced tea and comfort food in an impeccable home. They expect impromptu politeness, and hospitality at the drop of a hat.”
“But you are Hispanic. They can’t expect you to behave that way.” He realized immediately he had put his little foot in his mouth when her lips tightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a squeak.
“Tell them they can’t have-”
“What do you mean ‘they can’t expect me to behave that way’? And do you see me doing that? Do you really think I’m going to go back out there and tell them ‘Sorry ladies, my tiny shrunken husband is a greedy, selfish baby, and he refuses to yield even a single brownie square. We’ll have to scavenge the fridge for any leftover Chinese food that hasn’t turned, and whatever cheese we can slice away from mold we can put on Ritz crackers.”
His gaze, no longer blazing with anger, dropped for a moment.
“Well, er… um-” He shook his head softly, sinking his chin into the brownie corner the heat of his body had rounded out. His fingers dug into the still warm mass of chocolate like fish hooks, as though he could still prevent her from taking the plate away from him.
“I’m offering my friends these brownies, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it. They will stay in my house for as long as they wish, and they they will eat anything they want from my fridge. And after they leave I’ll come back here and we’ll have a long conversation about your manners, and your small place in the grand scheme of my things.”
She reached for the plate, and he barely had time to jump off it and onto the bedside table where the stack- his stack of brownies had been cooling off. His pressed lips turned into a pout as he watched her walk away with them in hand.
Only now did he begin to realize there might not be any sort of sweetness headed his way this Saturday night if he didn’t work his way to her good graces. He looked down at his body. Almost the entire front of it was painted brown with melted brownie marks. He thought they could be useful.
Careful not to accidentally wipe clean any of it, he sat on the lamp base. In the distance, in the living room that felt as though it was a town away, he could hear laughter and womanly conversation, interrupted by moans of culinary appreciation as his wife’s friends devoured his brownies.
Alone, he waited.
* * *
And here’s the example file, the way I initially composed the image. There isn’t that much difference between the former and the latter.
I was going to write a poem to go with this,
perhaps some other time.
In the meantime, pretend this is a poem
though nothing in it rhymes.
Have a happy Valentine’s Day
may you spend it in her shoe.
The above is a bathroom sign
for ladies taller than you.
They need a special place
to take their little men.
Too small to reach the toilet
too little to flush the can.
But what does that have to do
with this celebration of love?
I don’t know.
I just like signs.
And straight lines.
I posted this at my old blog two years ago.
I’d been wanting to come up with signs similar to those used for vehicular traffic, so when I found the original background somewhere on the Internet, I thought I could steal edit it and have fun with it. I created a few signs based on the female and male shapes, and tried different hearts to go along with them.
The above gifs are my favorite ones, and since they are gifs, they are animated. I think I might have entered the initial sign with the stylized red heart for an image contest two years ago (or longer), but I don’t remember.
Another old entry from my defunct blog I found in my Jedi archives! And the same as with the fictitious “computer series“, Theth has never mentioned anywhere that the following collages are part of any set of images, much less that the shrunken men in them are bots. It just so happens that my mind classifies them that way, but either way they are wonderful images.
* * *
"mpbed_a" by Theth
Of all the images I have added to my collection, Theth has created over a couple of dozen, and I can see a story behind every single one of them. The tale behind the image above came to me partly because of Jar Jar Binks.
Unlike what seems like the majority of Star Wars fans, I love Jar Jar. I was never one of those people that claimed George Lucas had “raped their childhood” with the way A Phantom Menace and Attack Of The Clones developed the story of the earlier films. There are other things in life I choose to be upset about.
Before APM was released, I did my fair share of Star Wars-related shopping, and one item I had to have was this:
Muy muy, I like it!
He measures nearly twenty-four inches in length, says a great number of phrases when I squeeze his hand, and vibrates to wake me up. Or used to, before I got tired of being snatched from slumber thinking a wrestling raccoon had slipped between my sheets. The most important thing is that it makes me smile.
Theth’s image made me think of a woman and the life she shares with her little toy robot. It inspired a poll about robots at GDC, and the following scene.
Little One
Amanda woke up at once, and the dim light in the room told her it would still be another hour before she would hear music coming from her alarm clock. Her cheek rubbed the pillowcase’s soft fabric as she cast her gaze on the small shape that lay next to her. Wrapped in her arms and legs, he looked asleep, but was not. Robots did not sleep.
She stared at his back, and the way it rose and sank in a way that emulated slow human breathing. She knew he would stay in that exact position until she moved him, and would continue to act as though he slumbered until the alarm clock went off. She had programmed him that way seven years ago.
Pleasure models could do almost anything these days. Hers was not one of the latest versions, yet she could have fixed it so he would wake her up; but after the first few mornings of his inhuman-yet-human hands pressing on her shoulder and his lifeless voice whispering in her ear, she had gone back to her clock radio, which didn’t begin to pretend to behave as a human.
Is this how it feels to go insane? she wondered. To know that I’m functioning at a normal capacity, and then it all snaps into disarray when I start thinking about him? It. IT! Dammit. There I go again. Seven years with no repairs, not even one maintenance check, no oil changes for you, she though. No wonder you are malfunctioning. But I’m “malfunctioning” too. Who’s gonna fix me?
"kk-lax02a" by Theth
Little One had always malfunctioned, though. Pleasure models were never supposed to ask “why” or its derivative questions, neither as factory preset, nor after customizing downloads. Only Logic models could do that, and Amanda could have never afforded one of those, but when she brought Little One from the store and began to dress him, he looked at her with those deep dark eyes, and asked her why.
“Why are you dressing me?” he had asked. She had been squatting like a mother tending to her child when he spoke, and the shock caused her to fall backwards. She could have sworn she heard him giggle but when she straightened her body and looked at him, his face was calm. Then he started dressing himself.
Itself.
All those years ago Amanda had thought of taking him back to the store to get a replacement, as she was sure they had given her a Logic model by mistake, but in the end she kept him, and she always thought her feeling of guilt over keeping something she had not paid for prevented her from having his processor checked.
His brain, as she helplessly thought of it. His behavior had been startling since the beginning, and she had always thought she should feel more alarm than she did. She had tried to feel some kind of revulsion at his random displays of humanity, but maybe her loneliness and the fact that he had made her writhe with pleasure in bed as no fully sized human ever had, made her decide to put up with what must have been a bored assembler’s joke.
"as_6" by Theth
Now she looked at his neck, at the code imprinted on it, bars and dots that meant nothing to her. She was dozing off again when he rolled over into her, startling her into a scream.
“Aah! What are you doing? You are not supposed to move yet!”
“I’m sorry. Amanda. I woke up, and felt you were awake too. Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Surprised, Amanda felt her mouth open in the shape of an ‘o’, but no noise came from it. When she thought of her morning breath and how it would bother him, she felt anger, and pushed him away, fighting with sheets that seemed to wrap around her legs like moving vines.
“Listen, Little One, you don’t move until the music comes on, alright? That’s what you are programmed for! And you don’t ‘feel’ anything. You are a thing, like the teddy bear my dad gave me on my eleventh birthday. I talked to it, but it was just a toy! It couldn’t smell my breath, and- STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!”
Little One was rubbing his chest where she had shoved him, his face expressionless, but his eyes… was that pain? Was he hurt?
“I’m sorry, Amanda. I won’t do it again.”
“Will not.“
“I don’t understand.”
“‘I do not. I will not. I am‘. Why have you dropped your contractions? I never programmed you to do that.”
He was silent a second too long. She could have sworn he looked as though he had been caught lying. A very human response. But he was supposed to be silent when faced with input he had not been programmed to process, right? She slapped her forehead with frustration. He imitated her. It was so unexpected, to see him do that, to hear that little hand hit what felt and sounded like skin, she burst out laughing. She rolled onto her back and did not stop laughing until tears filled her eyes.
“Little One, you are driving me to madness.”
“Are you angry?”
She wiped her tears with the balls of her hands and stared at him for a moment. “Yes. No. I don’t know. You confuse me. None of my friends’ toys act the way you do. Not even the Logic models. Do you understand what I’m saying? You act in a way that’s completely unexpected.”
“Have I displeased you?”
“No. But sometimes you frighten me.”
“Will you send me away?”
"eh-hug054" by Theth
“Of course not! I would never! Why would you think a thing- See, this is what I mean. You aren’t afraid I’ll send you away. It doesn’t matter to you. You don’t have feelings.”
Little One said nothing, and Amanda hated to think she had hurt him, his heart, whatever part inside of him that made him behave in this way. She shook her head, disgusted with herself.
“I’m not going to send you away. I paid a fortune for you. You are mine forever. And you keep costing me a fortune with all the metal you eat! Man, what a thing to do, to design a toy that runs on metal. I suppose I should be thankful my energy bills are low, and that stainless steel is so cheap these days.”
A whisper from him.
“Because you love me.”
“What?”
Amanda stared at him, at his unmoving lips, and thought she had imagined what he said. Did she imagine it because it was true? She pushed away the thought. It would return.
“Fix me some breakfast, Little One. Oh, and I got you these handcuffs. They were on sale for five dollars a pair at the pawn shop. I got you enough food for a whole year. Here!”
She stretched over the side of the bed bed and picked up a pair from the floor, where it had fallen from a cardboard box filled with them, and tossed it in his direction. He caught it effortlessly, his hand moving in a blur common to hummingbirds.
Such speed. Of course he’s a robot.
She smiled to herself and tossed his little tuft of hair before she got up and walked to the bathroom.
She did not see the distant smile on his face as he examined the cuffs.
Yes, he’s just a pet, and that’s just ketchup. This poem came to be because I forced asked little squid to write it over two years ago. He kindly acquiesced and posted it as an entry on his blog, together with the collage above. I was so obsessed with shadows (I still am) that I forgot vampires cast none. I’ll just leave it there as a lesson to me.
This was a very amusing collage to work on. I changed her head three or four times until I was satisfied with the amount of red paint and deceivingly vacant expression. In honor of tomorrow’s full moon, I’m posting both collage and little squid’s poem today.
EVIL LIL DRACULA
‘Tis I dear Violet, we meet once again,
My spell of evil darkness, you’ll be helpless to defend.
The fact you’re so Tall, can intimidate the many,
But I have no fears, for my powers are such sweet candy.
Oh you’ll try to resist, you’ll try with playful jest,
You’ll denounce me by size, you’ll use your words to your best.
Giants are so arrogant, they believe themselves so Superior,
But I know about you dear Violet, You can’t resist me thought inferior.
Just my size makes you weak, why I can see your knees trembling,
Am I such a little toy to you Violet, my undead spirit so interesting?
Do I tempt you to reach, to show me such colossal comparisons?
Why now your words fail you, can’t your Giant Mind find its direction?
I am eeeevil don’t you know, it is MY power you can’t resist,
I’ll convert now to a bat and buzz the tower of your fist!
I’ll giggle and laugh as you swat with mighty blows,
Why I’ll even tease you at first, with tiny bites to your toes.
Oh you like that idea? As I’m vacuumed in torrent tumble,
Hurled about in midair, nothing but a fly in your turbulent rumble.
But I’m faster than you, and I have you right where I want,
Standing 203.5 feet Tall, Your towering neck shall I haunt.
Like a mosquito I take aim, your fingers seeking so adeptly,
And my mouth begins to water, to the pulse of your throbbing artery.
But before I take my purchase, I send you a spell-casting gaze,
And in that instant your eyes close shut, and your world becomes a haze.
I mount your column neck, like a window-washer clinging to a building,
Then sink my sharp teeth into you, and drink of your elixir; red, warm and filling.
“You are MINE now,” I speak, “You’ll be slave to me for all eternity, ”
“And your size will strike fear, in all those mortals so unworthy. ”
“You’ll live through the ages, undead and all Mine! ”
“And I will RULE THE WORLD with you, One Continent at a time.”
“You’ll awaken now Violet, and hear only MY commands ,”
“You’ll do what I say, and fulfill all my demands. ”
But something I hadn’t thought of, caught my attention without a chance,
A soft booming chuckle, took me by surprise as I glanced.
Upward I saw, you awake and startlingly wide eyed,
A gleam I did see, a curled smirk you didn’t hide.
Before I could react, I was plucked like a fly,
Carried up and away, from my prize in the sky.
I dangled and twisted, caught in your finger’s giant capture,
And all that I saw, was the Mountain of your face’s sculpture.
“Oh Dracula, so cute, so tiny your little display, ”
“Now be a good little bat and show me, how you’re not afraid? ”
“Your powers are no match, for my kind so Giant,”
“It is YOU that is MY slave, It is YOU who will be compliant. ”
“Now tell me again, how eeeevil you boast to be?
“You said you have power, are you Dracula or just a flea?
“How DARE you?” I spat, “I’m the Prince of Darkness!”
“Shhh… say no more my little thing, your power is now MINE to harness. ”
You know it. Old blog repost. These four collages were the ones I liked the most back then, but now there are new images I enjoy from this excellent collager! There’s a bit of a puzzle in the mini-scenes, but I’m not sure it’s very obvious. What is clear to me is that I used naughty words in my old blog far more frequently than I do in this one.
Here’s a link to TheShrinkee’s Flickr gallery, the same one found in my blogroll.
* * *
Some time last year [2006] I was visiting Mystic Crunk’s board to see if Gcode had created anything new when a thread by TheShrinkee caught my attention. The title included the word “chess,” and since I enjoy the game, I took a peek to see what he had produced.
A few are not my cup of tea, but plenty are just fabulous. The images I’ve inserted here are my favorite. Just look at all the instant mini-stories they inspire.
————————- <> ————————- <> ————————-
"shrunk-20" by TheShrinkee
“Look at him, dancing like an idiot.”
“Stop it. And be quiet, the rest of you. Don’t you see he’s about to die? We could be next!”
“Nah. We’ll be OK. We weren’t stupid enough to climb her body and arrive at her foot as though it’s some great reward.”
“Well, he does have a foot fetish….”
“If a fetish makes a person willingly- Did he just drop his pants? And what’s he doing to that giant toe?”
“I think I liked it better when he was dancing.”
“Speak for yourself- Oh my god, look! She’s seen him! She’s reaching for him!”
“Lloyd! Lloyd! Jump! She’s spotted you!”
“Lloooyd! Oh, I can’t look!”
“He’s gone.”
“Do you think he died happy?”
“I don’t know. I’m just glad I’m not in his place.”
“Yeah. We are lucky we found this nice, dark, safe place to hide.”
“And smar-”
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"shrunk-23" by TheShrinkee
“e4. Let’s try the Sicilian again.”
“In English. I have no idea what that means!”
“She moved the king’s pawn two squares forward.”
“OK. Now what do we do?”
“See if we can lure us a decent Wing gambit.”
“Just tell me what piece we are gonna move, fuckwit.”
“You have no idea what a Sicilian defense is, and I’m the fuckwit?”
“Gentlemen, may I remind you this is a timed game, and we are playing for our freedom?”
“Yeah. Like she’s gonna let us go if we win.”
“How many times have we won, exactly?”
“Zero.”
“We would have won last week if our genius Lloyd here hadn’t forfeited the game for a foot massage.”
“Hey, it was worth it, let me tell ya… Her big foot on me like that? I’ve never had so many orgas-”
“Shush! Help me move this pawn to c5. Oomph!”
“Damn, this is heavy! Humph- humph- Lloyd, I- humph- curse you! Humph- I hope her sister visits again, and she grows you a bit- humph- and then kills you while you are distracted fucking her toe! Hrrrmph!”
“There. Whew! Let’s see what she does n-”
“Oh, yeah? And I hope that right after I die happy, she sits her ass on you, and turns you into mush!”
“You know, little ones, I’m right here. I can hear you. Play quietly or I will disqualify you. In the toilet.”
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"shrunk-13" by TheShrinkee
“Run, you guys! Run for your life!!!”
“Dammit! Ever since that shrinking ray was invented, we men can’t even get a full day at the office in peace! Kinda funny, actually. Hahahahahahah!”
“Why are you laughing? Hahahahahahahah!”
“I don’t know. You are laughing too, actually. Oh, no! Wait! Lloyd has fallen, and he can’t get up! Hahahah!”
Lloyd: “Oh, yeah. Foot. Shoe. Lower that shoe on me, pretty foot… Hahahahah.”
“Lloyd, you IDIOT! Get up or we’ll be captured! Ouch! Now I’ve fallen. Hah.”
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"mega-17" by TheShrinkee
“So, why are we vacationing in Mexico again?”
“Because of the pretty pyramids like this one we climbed, and ruins and stuff.”
“And the fact that it’s the only country with giantesses makes no never mind to you, does it?”
“I’m just wondering why I’m away from the office for two weeks out of the entire year, and I choose to hang out with you guys.”
“That’s because you couldn’t get any woman from the office to travel with you. You are always creeping them out, the way you stare at their feet.”
“Yeah! You better not get us in trouble with the giantesses here! Here’s comes one now. Wow. Wow… hold on to something, guys. Man, she’s so tall….”
“Oye, mujer giganta! Yo piense su pie muy erótico parte de la humana! Yo quiere hacer cosas a su giganta dedos con mi órgano masculino!“
“Oh, no. Where did Lloyd get that translator? Quick, take it away from him! She looks angry!”
“Here she comes! Run! What the hell did you tell her, man?”
“I was just being my charming self! Aaaargh!”
“Let’s just hope shrinking rays are never ever invented, especially when we get back to the States!”
I was scanning through some fickr images when I stumbled upon this image by Jeff the Trojan…
No arguing in front of little ones.
…and the joke that follows it. I hadn’t heard it before and obviously I think the image is adorable despite the shadow work, so there’s a paste. Incidentally, it adds to the joke that the creator of the image looks like Simon Pegg.
* * *
A guy named Joe walks into a bar, sits down, and sets a package on the floor by his feet. Noticing that music seems to be coming from the package, another man named Clyde sitting next to him asks him what’s in the box.
“You really don’t want to know,” says Joe.
“No, really, I’m interested. What is it?” replies Clyde.
Joe opens up the package and inside is a living, breathing, 12-inch-tall man sitting at a tiny piano, playing music. The tiny piano player smiles and nods to the other man as he continues playing music on the tiny piano.
“That’s amazing!” says Clyde. “How did you get that?!?!”
“You really don’t want to know,” Joe warns.
“No, I definitely want to know!” says Clyde.
“Okay,” replies Joe, “When I was out in the desert in the Middle East I found this bottle and when I rubbed it, a genie popped out. He said I had one wish, and when I made my wish I got this little guy.” As he recounts the story, he pulls the bottle out of the package.
Clyde excitedly tells Joe that he’d really like to have a chance to use the bottle. Joe warns Clyde that he really shouldn’t do it, but after a lot of pestering, he finally lets Clyde have the bottle.
Ecstatic, Clyde rubs the bottle and lo and behold, a genie pops out. “You have one wish! What would you like?” asks the genie in a strange voice indicating that he may be slightly hard of hearing.
“I want a million bucks!” says Clyde.
“Done!” says the genie, and with a puff of smoke, he is gone. Suddenly the skies around the bar are filled with ducks. The ducks circle the bar and whenever somebody opens the door, hundreds of them fly through and circle above Clyde.
“What is this?!?!” yells Clyde. “I didn’t wish for a million ducks!” Joe replies:
And I don’t think you have to ask who’s Flash and who’s Moon. This is their story, also kind of a song.
Once there was this woman who
grew very tall one day and couldn’t fit inside her home any more
And when she finally came to terms with her new size
she left her town to see the world
* * *
Once there was this man who
got into an accident and started to shrink small
And when he finally saw he wouldn’t get any tinier
he left his home to see the world
* * *
And both woman and man were glad
’cause no one had it better than they had
* * *
‘Cause then there was this woman who
met this little man who understood the way she felt
And when she fell in tall love
he fell in love with her too
They couldn’t quite explain it
it was as though they’ve always felt that way
There really wasn’t a “scene” that went with this collage when I created it. I saved this Sandra Bullock image three years ago when I was looking for good ones of her to modify to suit my gigantic thoughts. This one wasn’t the best, or the clearest, but at that time it made me smile to imagine myself in her place, irreverent and mischievous as I flash an entire city (I think I envisioned some nice undies for myself, though), in response to their passing legislation against the usual state of undress in giantesses.
Your Tiny People rules don’t apply to us, you see. Our nude is belong to us.
Anyway, I forgot all about it until 2007, when while sifting through my collages-for-my-blog material, I spotted it again. I still had no little story to go with it, but some things I had read online on a board… some giantess board, its name I can’t possibly remember… about some members protesting collages because male “junk” was visible.
There’s a part of me that understands, but there’s another part of me that thinks, “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed a female member protest the countless collages that involve female private parts, yet we do see some men protesting the visible male ones. What’s that about?” In the end, there are always going to be some people protesting something. Too much nudity, too little, not enough giantess action, too much intelligent dialogue, not beautiful enough, not girl-next-door enough, not enough points, too many threads, not enough- Ah, you get the point.
I’m more the type that keeps her trap shut and clicks on what she wants, or better yet, makes the sort of stuff she wants to click on while complaining about stuff on her blog.
Which brings me to this here collage. There’s that woman, you know her as the actress that she is, but for my collage she becomes an extension of me. She’s spirited, loving, possessive, thoughtful, often irreverent and definitely naughty. She prefers to expose her dirty thoughts to this one little guy that warms her heart, though. Not the whole town, or the world. Just that one Little Man that gets to look up and see all that she has to offer, the one that inspires her to grab that skirt hem and smile as she shows him the rest of his life.
Or the afternoon, at least. Little guys get tired so quickly. tsk tsk
Lesley Gore performed songs that were hits before my time, but made their way into the soundtracks of ’80s movies I watched and liked. Four years ago, in December of 2004, I must have been watching Sixteen Candles or some other such movie when I thought of changing the lyrics of “It’s My Party” by Lesley Gore, into “He’s My Tiny”.
I love breaking into plagiarized song, especially when I modify lyrics to fit those very special, tall thoughts of concocting a shrinking formula (that’s what I refer to when I sing about “mixing ingredients”) and making a man very tiny and breaking the law and abducting him against his will and keeping him forever even though he had a different plan for his life.
He’s My Tiny
Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone
I’m thinking of him all the time
Why was he gone from my hand
When he’s supposed to be mine
He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you
Mixin’ ingredients, keep plottin’ all night
Leave me alone for a while
‘Til Johnny’s shrinking for me
I’ve got no reason to smile
He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you
My darling Johnny might walk through the door
Like a king for his queen
Oh what a Christmas surprise
if I could make him my ring
He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you
Dear Santa, I would like to find some time to blog under my tree this Christmas. Awesome dreams, cool ads, nice thoughts, all awaiting. 20 hours ago
I always thought Adrien Brody was creepy, but now that I've read the fuckface is a Polanski supporter, I'm steering clear[er] of his flicks. 2 weeks ago
Dear NBC, howya doin'? Rotting in hell going well for ya? Also, Rot in hell again for releasing "Life" sans original soundtrack. xxxoooxxx 2 weeks ago
I just bought my first mp3 online! Wow! I've finally joined the 90s. (And it's a Rap song, by the way. ) 2 weeks ago
Oh, and I had this great dream about a shrunken man. I'll try to type it up later, tonight maybe... unless I don't have any time. 1 month ago
