Friday, September 25, 2020

Keep Dreaming

 Tags: NSFW, Giantess growth, Muscle growth, breast expansion, beautification, reality, systemic racism

We’re in the living room, and Kiara is growing, and she asks if I’m okay.


She’s frowning, and there are tears in her eyes.  Those tears are for me.  As if it’s my life that’s ruined.  As if this isn’t my fault.  I tell her not to worry, that it’s not too late, but she shakes her head.  Then she moans, and grows again.  Her head is almost to the ceiling now.  The scent of her is filling the apartment, making it hard to think.  I watch her biceps swell bigger, watch her chest grow until each breast is as big as my entire upper body, watch the sadness fill her eyes.    


She doesn’t want this.  Not anymore.  But I can’t make it stop.  I’m apologizing and she doesn’t say she forgives me, because it doesn’t occur to her to blame.  She asks if a part of me is still dreaming.  I say, it must, it must be, but I can’t wake up.  She knows.


Dreams.  I was having them for months.  Kiara, my petite little fiancĂ©.  But.  Bigger.  At first, I wasn’t ambitious about it, even in fantasy.  Making her just big enough that I could rest my chin on her head without bending, big enough that it was a challenge to sweep her into my arms.  Later, I made her my height, or a little less.  That seemed to make her happy.  Lately, she was big enough to step over skyscrapers.  

One thing was always the same in those dreams.  God, if she could’ve seen them.  What a one-dimensional character she became in my mind.  A chalk outline, colored in by unbridled and unstoppable lust.  She ached for me.  Yearned.  And at her size, she didn’t have to beg—she could take.


Then one night she’s holding me, and I’m not dreaming anymore.  Says I’d been talking in my sleep.  Moaning.  Kiara asks what I’d been dreaming about, and I’m too groggy to lie.  She laughs, and said yeah, I thought so.  

You kept calling me Goddess.


I’m embarrassed, but I want to know.  Does she like it, that word?  She doesn’t know.  But I can hear the coy smile on her lips, even if I can’t see it.  

I ask if she wants to try it on.


She pushes me, and I don’t resist.  Let her lay me back, let her stroke me.  In the dark I sense her stripping out of her panties, and I can smell how wet she is.  I’m still hard from my dream, from her hands on me, and Kiara crawls on top.  Tells me to say it.  Call me your Goddess.


I do, and I do, until I can’t because her thighs are clamped around my ears, and her body is rocking me against the headboard.  It isn’t words by then, but I’m still saying it.


I notice she’s was different, even that first night.  Of course.  But when the colors are inside the lines of your fantasy, you don’t question.  

Except one thing: she tastes different.  Darker, headier.  And there’s so much of it.  So I question, yeah, but only a little, because I’m trying not to drown, and I’m trying to worship.  And it’s good, it’s so good.      


It’s only later when I remember the impression of muscle she wasn’t supposed to have, as she squeezed my face between her thighs.  The weight that doesn’t belong to her, yet it forces me down.  Kiara is—was—tiny, and look, fifty inches or fifty feet, she’s my Goddess that night.  Even as she screams, clamps down too hard for me to breathe, and baptizes me from nose to navel, I don’t question.  Even when she lets me be the little spoon.


In the morning, I’m shocked and she’s serene.  Six whole inches, in one night!  She just shrugs, and tells me five four is a perfectly reasonable height for a woman, and I tell her that is hardly the point. 


She asks if I like it.  Then she poses for me.  Says she wants an informed opinion.  There are hard edges of new muscle when she folds her arms behind her back.  When she stands on tip toe, pretending to grow all over again, a shaft of sunlight hits her ochre cheek.  She smiles, because she knows it’s divine intervention.


Then she makes me take off my pants, right there in the kitchen.  Wants to see first hand how she’s won the argument.  Then she tells me to call her Goddess.


If you’re supposed to be a Goddess, how come you’re on your knees?


I think it, but I don’t say it.  This is Saturday.  It’s early on when we start, but by the time we tear ourselves apart from each other the sky is purpling and the cicadas are chirping.  Her stamina, my Lord.  Even when I flag she just lays beside me, moaning and touching herself and gently grinding against my hip.  A man can only take so much of that before he has to get involved again.


The dreams come back that night, stronger than ever.  Crisp, and real.  I swear I can touch her, taste her, smell her all over me.  Swear I can hear her voice too, and when I wake up in the dark I can still hear it because she’s whispering in my ear.  Something like.


You want me so much bigger, don’t you?  Want me to grow stronger, and sexier for you.  Yes, just like that.  Oh, I’m going to make you feel so good Kyle.  I promise. Just imagine it for me.  Just dream.


Then she laughs, and her voice is deeper, so much deeper.  She knows I’m awake.  Because it stopped.


The bedside lamp makes her shadow evil and enormous as she kneels over me.  She smiles, and says she’s sorry.  But she wanted it to happen again.  Wanted to see if she could control it.  When she stands, my head isn’t even up to her shoulder.  She wanted to be a proper Goddess for me, she explains.  None of this kind-of-pretty crap.  She wanted my dream to come true.  

Her arms are thick with muscle, her thighs toned and developed.  An Olympic athlete, but an impractical one—such a slim little waist, such wide and giving hips.  Her chest too big, too inviting.  Her hair’s longer.  Her skin clearer.  Her eyes unnaturally bright.


She hoped I wasn’t mad.  But, would I do her one favor?  Such a small thing?  

Would I call her Goddess?


My voice breaks with the weight of it.  So I say it twice.


Kiara is on me then, too fast, pinning me to the wall.  Lifting so she can kiss me without bending, and I’m saying it, I’m saying it over and over, and she’s smiling so big.  Says she wants to make me feel good, that she promises she’ll be gentle.  Her hand is on my cock.  Big, and soft, and impossibly good, and I’m lost in her, feel so tiny in her grasp.  I think how even if she was my size she would still be stronger than me, could probably still lift me like this, and then she’s laughing because I’ve already cum.


I’m sleepy, but she says she’s my Goddess, and I’m not done worshipping.  So I do, with lips, and tongue, and hands, until I recover enough to worship with other parts too.  She smells different.  Tastes different.  It isn’t thin and floral, the way it was when she was my sweet little Kiara.  Goddess is like a freshly tilled field after the first thunderstorm of spring, when dark things beneath it first begin to stir.  Goddess is the Earth.


I want to take her to breakfast on Sunday.  Then I want to take her to brunch.  Then the moon is rising, and I’m taking my first steps of the day anywhere other than the bedroom or the bathroom.  Kiara follows, ducking under the doorframe, the floorboards creaking under her feet.  Even a Goddess needs to eat.  The fridge is nearly empty, so dinner is a foraged patchwork.  She takes me straight to bed after.  Wordlessly, she takes the last bit of my stamina, all I can willingly offer.  Then she lets me lie still as her giant hands take everything else.  Then I can’t keep my eyes open.  She wishes me sweet dreams.


Monday dawned, and the woman beside me was too big for the bed.  She wanted to celebrate how she could rest her palm on the ceiling, how my head didn’t even reach her thumb-thick tits.  But my phone was dead, and we’d missed our alarm.  We hadn’t gone grocery shopping so there was no coffee.  Kiara could hardly fit in the shower, never mind her business casual.  I drove too fast while she hugged her knees to her chest, hunched over in our hatchback.  I dropped her off, then got chewed out for a no-call no-show.  

But Kiara’s day was worse.    

Security admitted that, yes, she resembled the employee in question.  Carefully checked their records, confirmed that, yes, Kiara Johnson works here, but is clearly listed as four ten in the employee database and not as some freakish amazon, huh, what do you know.  She was patient, mindful not to raise her voice, the same way she’d walked on eggshells around authority her whole life, but someone called the cops anyway.  

Things went downhill quick from there.  I was her phone call, but I didn’t learn that until I found my phone between crumpled sheets, and even then it had to charge before I saw the voicemail.  At least she had a cell to herself, she laughed, and her sad smile filled my rearview mirror as she tried to make herself small in the backseat.


She asked me not to dream tonight.  Begged me.  But I’m weak.


Another spurt, and head smacks into the ceiling.  Kiara winces, and holds my hand.  Tells me it’s going to be alright.  But I’m awake, and she’s still growing.  I can’t make it stop.  And she says it’s okay, that I’m going to be okay.


I always found her attractive, I tell her.  Even when she was tiny.  She says she knows.  Even as she’s swelling past ten feet, and her body is developing into a parody, the purest distilled essence of male want.  She asks if I still do.  Find her attractive, she means.  But I don’t answer, because we both know it’s a nonsense question.  Like asking if up is up.


She picks me up.  She’s sitting on the floor now, and she spreads me out across her lap.  Still trying to comfort me.  With those giant hands, with that body that is paradoxically soft and firm, thin and powerful.  I’m sorry, I say.  I’ve done this to her.  The fantasy is too strong.  I can’t pick reality anymore.  She just laughs, and shushes me, and runs that enormous hand between my thighs.  Cups me.  Tells me to say it for her.  One more time.




She moans softly, and hugs me closer, squeezing the breath from me, taking it like a little tribute.  The first of many, I think, but I still don’t know where that thought came from.  I don’t recognize her smell at all anymore.  It’s fecundity and the first blood of summer, and she asks if I want Goddess to make me feel good.  I say I do.  Her fingers are so delicate as they strip me.  Her fingers are so delicate as they take me between thumb and forefinger, and she’s stroking me, and I’m gasping for air.


Goddess asks how I want it.  In your mouth, please Goddess.  If I’m worthy.  It’s so high above me, getting higher all the time.  Goddess leans back against the wall.  Invites me to climb.  Past the chiseled stone of her twelve-pack, between breasts larger than her head.  Leaving a trail of eagerness on her torso as I struggle up her too-perfect body, and another as I slide back down again when my grip fails.  She smiles that sad smile.  And helps me ascend.  

Her mouth is so sweet and good on me.  Her tongue, between my legs, easily forcing them apart.  On my thighs and my balls and the base of my cock.  She’s growing too fast now, but I can’t stop.  I’m thrusting.  The fantasy is too strong.  When I call her Goddess for the last time, my voice doesn’t break.


She sets me on the couch, and pulls the blanket over me.  Pats me on the head.  She barely manages to crawl out the door, and I watch as another growth spurt hits, the strongest one yet, then she’s as tall as the house.  

I want to follow her.  I know I can’t.  

She bends, puts her face as low as she can, and looks at me through the window.  She smiles, but there’s something else in that smile now.  Something I don’t recognize.


Keep dreaming, she tells me.


She’s growing again.  So Kiara stands.  And walks into the night. 


Saturday, September 5, 2020

Magic Remote - A VR Size-Changing Playground

 A few years ago, I became an early adopter of VR.  I did this, specifically because I hoped there would be sizeplay experiences available.  The closest thing to the realization of the fantasy - until we get Holodecks, of course.  There were a few options available, but nothing that allowed the kind of open play and customization I wanted.  So I set out to build my own.

Magic Remote v1.1

Use the remote to modify your partner, and explore whatever you'd like in scene. Alter her size, curves, and athleticism. Changes take roughly one minute to get to the maximum range, so place the stylus down on a button and watch the fun. If you're into giantesses or tiny ladies, this is the scene for you.

Do I need VR for this?

No!  Just a PC.  See step 3 below, there's a Desktop Mode.

How do I get this game?

Magic Remote is a scene  which plays inside the Virt-a-Mate VR environment.  It's an amazing hub for creating, and experiencing, pornography in virtual reality.  There are literally thousands of user-created scenes uploaded to a central website, easily searchable by tags.  To play my scene, you ONLY need the teaser version, which comes in at a lean $2/month.  This also unlocks content from all around the community.  Higher tiers allow you to customize Magic Remote to your heart's content - or even make your own.

1. Sign on as a patron of Meshed VR:  You'll get a key in your email.  Download and install the program.

2. Download Magic Remote v1.1  Extract the zip file, and copy both the "Custom" and "Saves" folders. Go to your VaM root directory, and paste. If prompted to overwrite files, click no. Open the scene as a normal save file. It looks like VaM doesn't allow custom poses in packages at this time - this is a simple little work-around. Please DM me on Twitter if you have a better solution.

3. Open VaM.  By default it opens in VR, but there should also be a file in the VaM directory "VaM (Desktop Mode)" which you can open instead.  Press Open Scene, scroll down.  You'll see Magic Remote.

4. VaM is a complicated program.  Feeling confused?  Check out the wiki!

How Does This Game Work?

There will be a remote in front of you.  Press the buttons, watch what happens.  Changes take about one full minute to go from the minimum level, to the maximum.  You can leave the stylus depressing the button, and explore while your partner goes through their transformation.  The scene is full of things to discover.  Look around!

I Found a Bug

There's a few.  VaM isn't really meant to support this sort of thing, after all.  I've spent a long time trying to make it as stable as possible, but it's not perfect.  Rapid size change can lead to clipping or other issues.  If there's a serious problem, just reload the scene.  If you find other bugs, feel free to drop me a DM.

I Have Ideas For Improvements

Tell me!  I've got a few myself.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Inherit the Kingdom

 The following was my entry to the July 2020 Size Riot story contest, #HistoricalJuly20.  The piece comes in at exactly 2000 words, for a 2000 word contest maximum, which I believe is what the kids call "sweaty."  

The story won first place for Sexiest-in-Show, as well as "Story which made you want to read everything the author has written."  Of these two wonderful compliments from the community, I think I'm slightly prouder of the latter.  Quite a few people punted on the "Sexy" category this time around, but there were an enormous number of brilliant and innovative pieces.  Plenty of things that made ME wonder just who exactly had written THAT, and where I could find more of it.

I got lots of lovely feedback, but there was one recurring theme: people seemed confused as to exactly when this story was taking place.  What its place was in history, in other words.  This... isn't a great problem to have, when you're writing for a history story contest.  Early versions of this story made the period and setting more explicit.  I ended up cutting much of this to come in under the length limit, without a single word to spare.  I also originally had more period-appropriate dialogue--this I eventually decided just made the story hard to understand.  So here you have a simple, elegant story, that I'll admit missed a bit of the point.  Thus, at this risk of telling, and not showing....

Inherit the Kingdom

Setting: Boston, 1660

Tags: F/m, shrinking, NSFW, dubious consent, non-consensual, mouthplay, insertion, entrapment

She was awake long that night, listening to the evensong of birds outside her window.  She was lost in thought and fantasy, and so at first took the gentle knock at her window as but a figment of an overworked imagination.  But then, small hands pressed against the glass latticework, and a tiny, perfect man stepped inside.


“Faith Wheelwright?  How pleased I am to make your acquaintance.”  No more than a foot in height, he bowed, then hopped, uninvited onto her bedside table.


This was a dream, for certain.  Yet a fair dream, and why not indulge it?  Faith glanced over her shoulder, checking the door was shut firm, then leaned down to get a better look at him.  “What cheer, little friend?  Pray keep your voice down.  Father doesn’t approve I have guests at this hour.”


 “I should think not.  A woman of your virtue, entertaining a male caller?  What scandal!  Especially as I am here to steal you away.”  He gave her a roguish grin.  “Richard du Loc, at your service.”


“Richard du Loc.”  She pursed her lips, trying the feel of it.  “A knightly name, if I remember my fairy tales.  But too grand for you, coming to me like a little thief in the night.  And to come unclothed?  For shame!  Nay, I shant call you by such a title.  How dost thou feel about… ‘Dick.’”  She gave him a knowing look.


He moved to cover himself, and managed to look bashful.  “You rightfully mock my appearance, good lady.  Both in stature, and undress.  I came in haste.  The draft I took was meant to reduce my form.  I thought nothing of attire, until it was too late.  I do beg your forgiveness.”


“My ire is matched by the size of the offense,” Faith replied.  “From what I can see, there is very little to forgive.”


The little man coughed.  “The night is cold.  It is a temporary condition, I can assure you.”


“Temporary?  That is well.  I had wondered how you meant to ‘steal me away.’”  She reached out a fingertip, and poked playfully at his little bicep.  “Good strong arms you have, Dick du Lac.  Yet I doubt in your ability to carry me across the threshold.”


Again, that delightfully roguish smile.  “The threshold, indeed.  Then you have seen through to my intentions.  I must again ask you forgive my impertinence.  I have come to ask you to be my wife.”


She laughed, an unrestrained bark of a sound, far too loud.  They both winced at it.  In the silence that followed, they listened as the house creaked in the autumn wind.  In the hearth, the last log of the evening cracked and smoldered.  Nothing stirred.


Faith leaned closer, whispering low.  “Do you know my predicament, Mr. du Loc?”


The little man nodded.


“Then you know I am promised to another.”


“Not so!”  He rushed to the edge of her table, fist held high.  “Two banns have been published for the congregation, without my lady’s presence or consent!  Three are required.  Until next Sunday, when none have objected to your union, you are promised to none!”


“And will you object, Dick?”  She gave him a sour smile.  “Even if you could raise your tiny voice to be heard.  Nay, none will object.  My father has waited long to have me wed.”


“I know it.  Even myself a poor traveling merchant, I have heard your story.  How you have twice before been promised, to men great and noble.”


“Is my tale such a byword, to be shared in every tavern?  I had hoped that my shame might be private.”  Faith gave a tragic sigh.


“I must tell you what is said of your newest suitor.  A rake.  Unworthy of a visible saint such as yourself, the purest and most righteous of women.  It is even said he caused the disappearance of those other two who sought your hand.  That by murder and treachery he seeks your bed.”


Faith drew herself up, letting herself tower over him, regally pulling the blankets about her.  “I am not a fool, Mr. du Loc.  I have heard the rumors.  Yet what am I to do?  Nothing that is holy could prevent our marriage.”


He held up a timid, placating hand.  “I know you are not foolish, Faith Wheelwright!  Forgive me, yet again!  But if nothing holy may save you, mightn’t I suggest… the unholy?”


Silence.  Outside, a whip-por-will called.  Faith scarcely breathed.  She lowered herself to him.  Close enough that she could smell the sweat of a hard day’s labor on the little man, see the streak of soot upon his brow.  “Speak.”


“I confess, ‘twas nothing holy that brought me to you in this state.  To speak with you thus, I stuck a pact with a consort of the devil himself.  Yet I so longed to be in your presence, fair lady, and if my plan be to your liking, we may yet find salvation.”


Faith wet her lips, mouth suddenly dry.  For a moment, it was as if she could taste him.  “I will hear your plan.”


“This very night I made a deal with a young woman, a wicked fiend, yet a member of your very church.  With her aid I stand before you thus.  I thought of no other way to meet in private, and offer my hand.”  He held his tiny palm out to her, imploring.


“Let us say you might earn it.”  Faith reached out her smallest finger, and placed the tip of it into his hand.


He beamed.  “Four potions I acquired, with my meager salary.  One robbed me of my size.  Another will return it, when our night is ended.  A third I will arrange to deliver onto you, tomorrow at sunset.”


Faith leaned closer still, lips nearly upon him now.  “Will it make me small, as you?  For you to carry me away in your pocket, safe and secure from those who would harm me?”


The tiny man seemed surprised.  “Indeed, dear lady.  The journey by ship is long to the Chesapeake, yet in my care I will keep you as a little queen, your every need met, until I might return you to normal.  Then, together as man and wife, we shall put this unholy business behind us.”


“Such sin is beyond forgiveness.  We will surely be damned for all time.”  Faith shook her head.  “Yet, I am with you, Dick.  For the salvation you offer, I will throw myself into eternal hellfire.”


He took her giant finger with both hands, and pressed his lip to her knuckle.  “We may yet be forgiven.  Satan, the great dragon, is mighty.  But in our devotion the lord gives strength to slay him.”


“Then perhaps I should test your devotion, oh smallest of knights.”  Faith grinned mischievously.  “Though tonight, let I be your dragon.”  Her hands closed around his waist.


“My lady!”


He was warm, as he struggled in her grasp.  “Doth my knight fear me?  I do not deny, I am towering, and hungry.  Never was there a greater dragon.  Yet for your cunning and bravery, tonight I might also be your garden.”


Faith watched as her words took effect.  Saw him tremble, and then relax.


“Would you explore the garden, worthy knight?”


He answered in moans, as her lips found his soft, bare, skin.  Tasting him, like forbidden fruit fallen ripe from the tree.  He hesitated, then opened to her.  Little legs spreading with ease.  His tiny forehead rest upon her brow, his hands upon her temples, as she kissed him.


“Good lady, are you certain about this?”


“Call me ‘good lady’ no more.  I am Faith to you.  Faith be the name of thy garden.”  She lifted him higher, letting her lips part.  For but a moment, she gave him succor upon his most sensitive part.  He whimpered, grasping her hair in little clumps, and groaned when she pulled away again.


“Repeat your lesson,” she breathed.


“Faith,” he panted.  “My garden be Faith….”


She smiled, and gave a reward for his studiousness.  Then, lying back, she lifted the blankets and set him upon her chest.  The night was chill, yet as was her habit, she wore no bedclothes.  She let her body warm him, let him take comfort in her.  He began to move upon her breast, and in the darkness she bit her cheek to remain silent.  Faith let her legs rub together in anticipation, knew that the scent of her desire must neigh overwhelm the little knight. 


He explored her with slow, worshipful care.  Her body grew hot, and her need for him went wild.  At last she could wait no longer.  She took him in her hands, and beneath the blankets, helped him to descend.  With instruction gentle yet candid, she told what she required. 


He tended her.  Faith found herself unable to fully silence her cries of exhalation.  Yet any who heard may have thought it but the mournful song of a passing night bird.  And her knight was worthy to his task.  As he entered her garden in full, she wondered that she had ever thought him too small.  His size was perfection.  Divine providence.  Thus, she bloomed for him.  


Thus, she burned.


After, he lay beside her.  He smiled with the wonder of a man who has caught a glimpse of paradise.  Faith favored him, holding him to her breast, as though he were a man in full. 


“One thing yet troubles me, Dick.”


“Do you say so?  And please, may I not be Richard to you?”


“Forgive me.  Richard.  You struck a deal for witchcraft, from one within my congregation?  I pray, tell me who?  If we expose them before we flee this place, it may go far toward our salvation.”


The spent little man looked grave.  “Aye, from one high upon the very body of your church.  A devious lass, by name of Agatha Vane.  A mean and hungry look she gave to my request, and though she prodded me for my intentions, I would not say.”


Faith shook her head sadly.  “Agatha.  Poor dear.  She never learned her lessons well.  We shall have to destroy her for this.”


“As you say, Faith.”


“In the first place, it is forbidden, offering service to outsiders.  Rumor may spread, putting all my sisters in danger.”


In his stupor, he was long in responding.  “Your… sisters?”


“In the second, deceiving you was petty and cruel.  An antidote?  For your condition?  My sincerest apologies, my grand little knight, but no such exists.  You must forgive me, for I, too, have deceived you by silence.  Yet my aims were just, and once you were delivered onto me at this size, I had but one recourse: to test you.”


He tried to stand, but his body was lethargic from his efforts in the garden.  She caught him, adoring yet firm, and held him aloft.


“Yet Agatha’s greatest and most unforgivable sin was her poor craftsmanship!  Though I am not sorry in the least to have met you at such a great size, her work was shoddy indeed to leave you so large.  Ah, however am I to keep you hidden?”


Faith pulled open the drawer.  Two tiny, masculine voices screamed up from the darkness, begging their salvation.  She ignored them, and withdrew a small, red vial.  Frowning regretfully, she allowed a single drop to anoint her little knight.  He screamed, and began to dwindle in her arms.


“Nay, worry not.  You have proven yourself tonight.  I will not forsake you, as I have the others.  Faith will keep you, and cherish you.  You may end tonight smaller by far than the rest in my charge.  This, I cannot help.  But you shall be the greatest.  And wait only until Sunday!  I promise you, when my new husband joins, I will make him smaller still.  For your virtuous deeds, I shall give you lordship and dominion over all.”  She kissed him once, and set him in her kingdom.