I have all my old stories saved up, notes from ten or twenty years ago all stored and ready to be used or modified. A long time ago, I used to chat online with virtual giantesses, collaborating on long and elaborate sexual encounters. Eventually it occurred to me to save some of these in text files, and while I mourn the adventures that have been lost to time, at least I have some left to inspire and motivate me.
I also have a series of three notebooks, three blank books. They look like paperback classics of foreign literature, titles no one would be interested in even if they could read the language. But these are alien in a different sense: two of them are full of story ideas for giantess erotica and adventures with tiny people. Any time I see someone attractive who would make a great character for a story, in the notebook they go. Any time I witness a situation or a scenario that lends itself to giantess thought, I write it down with any pen on hand and cover all the points necessary to preserve it for future use.
But the third one is entirely empty. The first one is fully loaded with notes and sketches, the second is half-full of story ideas. I haven’t gotten to the third one… until yesterday.