He swallowed nervously and jutted out his chin as if in defiance, hoping to bring his voice under control. How could he ever verbalise to this giantess his thoughts on a subject so vast and so treacherous?
It was obvious that he was nothing compared to her. But secretly he dreamed of how the world was said to have been in ancient times. Where the genders were divided into men and women, and not Goddesses and fleas.
He started to speak again but quickly came to a halt… caught between thoughts that could not be uttered… and an inability under such duress to invent something more palatable.
She decided to carry on the conversation without him. Timorous silence was not an unusual response from the males she had chosen to play with. Not when they were finally confronted with just how overwhelmingly superior she was on every level. It was a rare thing indeed to find a man with the balls to offer discourse whilst facing the pressing probability of an imminent demise at her touch.
“This might surprise you. It should, if you have a grain of consciousness left after all that shaking : I’ve been told about a phenomenon called the “battle of the sexes”; A sometimes subtle, and sometimes less subtle, struggle for dominance between males and females. Laughable, isn’t it? ”
She paused, pretending to wait for an answer he couldn’t give.
“…isn’t it? ”
He blinked dumbly. Not knowing what to say.
Perhaps it was time, Tina thought, to see if there was a different way for him to entertain her. She had studied a little of how women of antiquity regarded the unshrunken men of the past. Many accounts complained that men, being simpler and more animalistic than they, were only interested in what they would show of their bodies. Which meant conversing without including some visual or tactile stimulation was a waste of time. In Tina’s experience the miniature men she’d been presented with were not different. Only being small and expendable; fear, pain and worship were just as big a motivation to be interested in her flesh as arousal and attraction. She decided to let her body play a more active role in supporting her words.
Fluttering her eyelids suggestively, Tina briefly traced the contour of her lips with her tongue. For a heartbeat, through her slightly open mouth, he fleetingly glimpsed a dark cavern terrifying in its immensity. He felt his skin crawl and tingle as a nightmarish vision trying to fill his mind was frantically refused access to his consciousness.
“I see. You have nothing interesting to add and I am hungry.”
For a moment he was too shocked to understand. Tina watched him intently with those hauntingly hazel eyes; large round islands in the sky whose cunning intensity was an invisible furnace within which he pitifully shrivelled. Counting in her head to ten, she waited for the insect to grasp her meaning. Eventually he did.
“Nooo. Please don't. Please.P-”
No longer able to deny the horror of what she intended, he wailed. A few solitary tears of despair fell unfelt into the intricate trenches of her skin’s patterning.
“It is a shame I agree. For you are hardly going to satisfy my hunger.”
Tina smirked and added :
“... no matter which way I swallow you”.
That he was far too frightened to be able to work out what she was implying was not surprising. Tina had him at yet another supreme disadvantage when it came to innuendos. He was far too inexperienced to be anything but naïve and clueless. Males that lived in the specially adapted tanks, didn’t know much about women. There weren’t any their own size to meet. The only time they ever saw the fairer sex was when a Goddess appeared, looming over them like a living landscape.
Since survivors of erotic encounters were rare, learning about a woman’s sexuality took place in hushed whispers as darkness fell. The older men (still in their vigour and prime as life for men was short), took it in turns to share terrifying and titillating stories to their rapt and wide-eyed audience. Some of whom might later slink off in search of a little privacy to masturbate. As others shook gently under their blankets unable to sleep. There was no shortage of tales. The most popular of which was that in a Goddess’s nether regions lived a cave dwelling Cunt. A huge eyeless beast which was all mouth - hairy, toothless, insatiable, voracious and predatory. Capable of gobbling up the whole community and still being hungry. Yet in spite of this, its greatest danger lay in a bewitching and beguiling nature. Victims often begged to be eaten alive, and cried if they were denied the honour.
A few of the “old wise men” were genuine veterans, survivors of one of their owner’s “distraction” and escapees. If anything, their testimony gave credos to such fancies. How else could you begin to describe what they had been through and witnessed? The crippled amongst such were much venerated. Except those that were forever whimpering and cringing, dumb or mad with fear. Most storytellers had no experience themselves. They’d spent their lives looking through the thick glass and dreamed, listening to their elders until there were none left to hear.
And what could they possibly learn this way?
Sometimes Tina watched them. Sometimes she took the chosen away - whether this was a punishment or a blessing was debatable -, Sometimes she showed them off to other Goddesses, particularly one she called “Euterpe”. Sometimes she didn’t notice them at all. Like a true Goddess, her behaviour was perplexing and mysterious. One moment charmingly whimsical, another creatively pernicious.
Confusingly, in spite of her frequent benevolence, it was Tina that necessitated their numbers being so regularly topped up from the cloning factories. Mortality by other causes being almost unknown. Whilst she maintained their numbers, she was largely indifferent to any individual’s survival. And was known to luxuriate in killing for no reason that they could discern. Her attention and affection were like fire. And they were simply kindling, waiting for their time to burn.
Sighing at the thought of having wasted humour on so inferior a lifeform, Tina decided to educate him first. And squash him later. Or if such instruction seemed too ambitious, at least get him thinking clearly. After all, before the establishment of a glorious global Matriarchy, great efforts had gone into educating young males so that they could choose their own future. Then, 100 years ago, women had discovered how to relegate men to little more than conscious sperm… (or if it took their fancy - playthings, pets or food toppings)… and that had certainly improved life. For women at least. She wondered if recent generations of no schooling had left the little things incapable of intellectual thought. Perhaps if she made the attempt to find out, she could further womankind’s understanding of the “male”, increase the sum total of scientific and psychological knowledge about how he…
She suppressed a giggle. Preposterous of course. Quite frankly, who would care? This distraction would be solely for her own amusement. Before she used him for another kind of amusement altogether.
Whilst he continued to cling fearfully onto the tip of her finger, she daydreamed. Earlier in this timeframe, she had wondered why, with all their technology, women hadn’t done away with “males” altogether. It would be easy to grow the equivalent of semen. Or to clone new women. And as for their other functions, what was wrong with gerbils, goldfish, ant farms, butterfly houses or stick insects? There were any number of lesser creatures which could be kept in captivity as pets, or as points of interest in a room. So why bother with men? It took a hundred of them, a thousand of them, to be the main source of protein in a meal. And quite frankly the first time she’d been served a Men Caesar Salad, she’d quickly found out that she preferred chicken. At least chicken didn’t run off your plate when you weren’t looking.
But as Tina learned more, her own changing feelings on the subject revealed the truth. Men had been allowed to persist because, as tiny as they were, they still held some sort of charge or magnetism. In an inferior and microscopic way, these little beings resembled her kind, except for their genitalia which were more like a negative image of her own sex organs. At once both alien and familiar. And that itself was a kind of attraction. Rather than being mildly repulsed, she now welcomed making use of them. It might have been weird to think about it, but it was possible to see how in a different Age a man plus a woman had somehow formed a whole. His parts in her parts. She had once seen a rather explicit historical text on the subject. She guessed some sort of residual hunger for sexual polarity remained buried within many women’s DNA. Sometimes, as with her girlfriend Euterpe, remaining recessive or repressed. Sometimes, as with Tina, finding expression. It would explain why the tiny creatures were part of her best orgasms. Why she was thrilled to see and feel them naked; as they crawled, worshipped and died in service to her pleasure.
It had never been a simple predilection though. Tina’s passion for little men was complex and changeable. Just like the weather. If you thought you knew it, it would catch you by surprise. Ebbs and flows of internal currents interacted with the kind of day she was having, to create a range of desires, emotions and impulses that could run rapidly from one to the other, or simply set in for the duration.
Sometimes she ignored them. As familiar and uninteresting as paint on the wall. At other times she was fascinated by them.
Wanting in turns to…
…possess them …care for them …tease them …arouse them …torture them …envelope them …devour them …fuck them
…and obliterate them.
Maybe all at once.
