A long time ago was a beautiful woman named SEDNA, the daughter of her tribe's leader. She was graceful and kind, and when she approached marrying age, her father announced a huge festival to find an appropriate suitor for her.
Some workers were like this, Shaun knew. Maybe they got a thrill from the momentary captive audience, either sating their curiosity about Tinies or enjoying their small portion of power and dominance.
Nine beloved size-fetish writers have come together to contribute one or two stories each to ButtyJuly17, the latest installment in a strange little quarterly writing contest.
The pretty blonde woman shrieked at a piercing pitch, but Johnny gripped her upper arms and shook her gently. "I know what to do!" he yelled in her face.
In which I recap my magical, dizzying weekend at SizeCon, the haven for size-fetish artists and writers.
Friday morning I will be on a passenger jet hustling me to SizeCon. I'll check into my hotel, try to find a convenient pizza place and a brewpub, and I guess I'd better bring some melatonin.
The huge finger withdrew, but the fingertip commenced to rattling the windowsills in the wall of the balcony. This sharp clutter elicited some swearing from the unruly heap.
I raise my head and grin at the city in the distance. Oh, it's lovely, these clever little specks and their enduring hives.
And I can see her more clearly, not silhouetted. It's one of those things: she'd be beautiful if she weren't a deranged monster.
My ears are starved for noises, like when you step forward, expecting ground, and you fall for a split second when it's just a little further than you knew.