Why I Love Being a Tiny Shrunken Man
People ask me all the time why I love being a tiny shrunken man. The best way to tell you is just to go with the truth. I was being dangled by a pair of lovely French-manicured fingernails over a pot of boiling water and had time to reflect that it’s moments like this, as menacing laughter and jeers reverberate around me, that it’s good for one’s shrunken strength to stay positive.
“Look on the bright side,” I told myself as scalding steam tickled my toes. “You still have your health for a few more seconds. Why not make a little list of all the reasons you enjoy being a tiny shrunken man at the mercy of a lovely giant mistress.”
Just a Few Reasons off the Top of My Tiny Head
Since the day that my female-supremacist boss turned the shrink ray on me at the lab and made me no taller than a ball-point pen, all of these WONDERFUL things have happened to me:
– No need to pay rent. I haven’t paid a cent in rent in months! I get to live in exotic locations like a sandy aquarium, one of those plastic-tunnel hamster homes, a purse, and a discarded shoebox under the bed. Oh! I once got to live in Detroit for a few days when She became angry that Her favorite pop-star got booed off the stage performing there and proceeded to shrink the entire city for Her revenge.
– No boring job. I’ve been living the life of leisure. Oh, I still have tasks to do: fetching dropped coins from under the couch, painting portrait-sized toenails, walking up and down a curvy mountain of golden flesh while coating it in suntan lotion, that kind of thing. Beats doing paperwork.
– Every TV is a big-screen TV, though I often lose the battle of “who gets the remote control.” When I do win it’s usually when it is dropped on my head but I’m getting better at dodging large falling objects.
– No gym fees. There’s no need to join a gym, I get LOTS of exercise on my nightly run (away from the cat.) Yes, playful claw-wielding felines keep my heart and body in top shape as I spend hours running, dodging, and climbing table legs in the daily adventure of remaining claw-free and uneaten.
– “Lick the Beater.” This is a game that my giantess Mistress enjoys as much as I do. It starts off with me innocently falling into a bowl of something chocolaty (shrunken men are sadly quite clumsy) A bowl of frosting, cake mix, or chocolate fondue, any of those works well. Much like licking the beaters of a mixer when I was younger, my lovely giantess mistress then plucks me from the bowl and proceeds to clean me head to toe with Her lips and tongue, flicking, sucking, licking, teasing every tiny bit until each drop is drained from my body. Drop of chocolate that is. Yes I meant chocolate.
And of course, I have to point out to you now and remind myself how good I’ve got it. My Mistress constantly reminds me of how lucky I am! She always has a tale of someone far worse off than me. For instance, no matter how tiny I may appear, she could always make me tinier on a whim. She enjoys reminding me that Her previous tiny man enraged Her causing Her to shrunk him so tiny he was lost in the wind being brushed away from Her coat like a grain of sand.
The Best Part is Naughty Time
Occasionally being dropped into curvy, creamy cleavage. Mistresses are notoriously butter-fingered as they dangle tiny men in front of their long eyelashes. A mistress will sometimes slip and drop me right down the front of Her blouse. After that, the ensuing sliding, bouncing, tumbling and squeeeeeeeezing as She labors to retrieve me from Her garments are only slightly bruising and end up better than any full-body massage I could ever receive from a professional.
This can lead to the naughty fun. Every once in awhile, when my sexy giantess’s boyfriends are out of town and She is gazing longingly at an image of Her favorite hunky blonde actor, She will reach for Her vibrator and accidentally find ME instead! I just take a deep breath and remain as rigid as possible as She caresses the entire skin of her body with mine and then lowers me between Her thighs and teases herself with my nose. Oh, and I have to WRIGGLE. Vigorously. A lot. So she doesn’t decide I’m too much less fun than the vibrator and trade. Then She MAY just enjoy it enough to let me live to try that again another day.
Oh, hey, time to return to my boiling pot-dangling activities. Apparently I have to come up with a few genuinely valid reasons for Her to spare my pathetic little life. Such is the price one must pay to live the privileged life of a tiny shrunken man. I’m sure you can see now, why I love it!
Give one of our Shrinking Fetish Mistresses a call, today!