All Alone

I admit I'm a shallow human-being
I only answered your call, to see how far it could go
every night I put on a smile, I changed inside
yet, you knew me through all the plastic
you knew I was afraid, of falling for you
you knew I put on this show, to hide from anything true
I pretend, and pretend I am someone else
through all the fake smiles, and friends that have come and gone
you stayed for awhile
but not for long
you showed me love, then you just left
I was a feather in the breeze, caught in a whirlwind
now I'm lost in my head
lost in my dreams
sitting in my room, writing my feelings
I can't explain them, they just come
I can't define in any world
what you have done
you look at me sometimes
we both know
the love we once shared
is too much to ignore
I have my friends, I have enough
but all I really need is your sweet love
I can't eat, I can only think
my chest is caving in, and I can't sleep
I cry everytime I hear your romantic voice in my head
I die everytime I remember the night you left me alone
all alone in my bed.

My Broken Heart

I told myself that God had forgotten me...
After a lifetime of pain and nights filled with loneliness
He had no one for me to love
Just move on, it will be ok.
And then I met you.


I knew it was all wrong,
But I looked into your beautiful eyes... and I let you in...
Into my heart, into my family, into my home.
You gave me hope when I had none.
A second chance.
You took my hand and let me think about
A life with a man who would love me and my children...


Fantasy... or foolishness?


It is so rare to find someone to connect with,
Someone to open up your heart to
When it finally, if ever, comes along, it should be cherished and prized.
Love so sweet that the night is not long enough for all the kisses to be shared.
I always said that after a lifetime of looking
I would know him as soon as I met him.
I would know he was the one.
Hold on tight and don’t him let go.


But then,
You learned you were not free...
To love, to share, to plan, to care.
With each day you pulled farther away.
Your heart is now hard and filled with pain.
You shut me out, pushed me away.


WAIT! Come back! Please don’t leave me...
Hold me, kiss me, tell me it will be ok, what about the dreams we talked about?
The love we shared? The love still to be had and made?
Please don’t go... please.


This pain is just too much to bear. My heart aches for you.
I’m begging, pleading for just a small amount of your time.
To connect with you once more.
When did I become this way? Why did I become this way?
Surely being alone is less painful than the humiliation of
crying for a man who doesn’t want me.


Why God why? Haven’t I cried enough in my lifetime?
What transgression am I paying for?
How could you be so cruel?
I survived my dark night.

~

Today is a new day. Springtime.
The newness of the season.
New beginnings.
Just move on. It will be ok.


Perhaps someday he will see that maybe I was the one that God sent to him.
The woman for him to love, to cherish, to give him hope, to hold his hand.
The woman to give him a home with laughing children.
The woman who would never hurt him like the others before
Whose heart has known pain, and would never hurt this man she loves.


But life is all about choices.


Let him go... Let him go... and cry for what could have been.
Let him go... Let him go... and cry for what will never be.
The nights of passion, beautiful brown-eyed children, a life filled with love.
Let him go.
Let him go.
And be glad, not sad, for the short time we loved each other.


Let
him
go.

Boyfriend

I know a boy unlike any other
he is sweet, kind, and really fine
I sit here and see his face
no matter what I love his face
I worship the ground he walks on
he told me that he loved me
and that he always would
just when I started to believe him
his attitude changed to way too good
I found him with my best friend
doing more than friendly things
but I knew in my heart that I still loved him
and I asked him back out again
no matter what he does
no matter what he says
I'll always love him
now I whish that he was mine
no matter what I do
no matter how hard I try
he'll never be mine in time
he'll never be my valentine
he's waiting for the perfect time then his deed be done
then I'll be gone with someone new and he'll be lost in love
he'll be with someone else
until he gets hurt and then
he'll come running back to me
and want to go out again
and then no matter what I'll take him in
I'll hug him and hold him
until he does it all over again
well this is it
it's the last time
I won't take him back even if he is fine
now I know he's using me
I'm just a sick pawn in his game
I'll never fall in love with him again
I never wanna hear his name
he said he loved me then took it back
he cheated on me and treated me like trash
he played carefully and tried not to get caught
but he alwas did and now it's all his fault
it's all his fault he won't get me back
he'll never hold me tight in his arms
he'll never kiss the lips he said were soft
and he'll never see my face again
I hope he dies in lots of pain
the pain he put me through
I hope it's one of suffering
all the way through and through
he hurt me once
he hurt me twice
but now I know the truth
he just used me and abused me
he didn't care if he hurt me
I'm just another hoe to him
he left me lying defensless
he broke open all my wounds
he took away my heart and soul
and left with no groom
So now it's time to say my goodbyes
so my deed is done
Goodbye you sorry son of a bitch
now I'm gonna have some fun.

Death Of Death

Death died this morning. I’m not exactly sure why it happened; it happened so quickly, but staring into the empty hole in the ground with his black robes folded up neatly inside, there was no denying it. Somewhere along the way he lost the battle and surrendered to the one-track crusaders waving their bold banners heralding “life, life, life!” up to the heavens.
We all had our theories about how it happened. I thought it might have had something to do with the changing times, but Grandma insisted that he went down with religion. Uncle Albert, who had lived through the war, and watched his buddies be killed first hand as he took cover in a freezing foxhole of mud, was convinced that it was those ‘damn commie bastards’ who had killed him.
We treated death like the taxman, whenever he paid us a visit; a cup of warm lemon tea in the parlour room, artificial smiles, and a let him take whatever he likes so maybe he’ll leave sooner frame of mind. We always managed to get through it somehow.
Over the years, death became a well-worn presence in our house. Out of the deaths I remember, I lost three gold fish, my childhood dog, Aunt Biddy, and worst of all one night, after struggling for years of sickness, my mother succumbed to death at last.
The night mom died was death’s longest visit ever. We all waited with apprehension to see what would happen, but Grandma who always the tough one, took up the initiative. Without a sound, she drew the papers across the table towards her and signed the necessary paperwork for death to take her daughter away. I never even saw her cry – the deep cut lines in her cheeks stayed as dry as our riverbeds did last summer when there had been a 4-month drought.
I watched all of this from a distance, hanging out of the wooden stairway rails like they were my own personal prison, and making faces at death when I was sure he wasn’t looking. Somehow though, I got the feeling he still saw me, even with his back turned away from me.
One morning, after I found death had come in the night to make another one of my gold fish float upside-down in its green scum fish bowl, my anger towards death reached its peak.
I announced my indignation to about it to my Grandmother, who I was sure, would agree with me, having lost so many family members over the years. But surprisingly she looked up from her book, and sighing, steered me over to the laundry room to explain, as though the many soft folds and layers of fabric and pants would soften the impact of what I was about to hear.
“If anybody ever tells you that death should be done in,” she said, “You just ignore them, and don’t pay them any attention. Death is a necessary burden. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a screwball.”
But the screwballs came to us that summer one day in mid-July, lined up on our front porch in robes of white.
“Would you like to join our petition,” the people of the neighbourhood asked importantly, “Against death?”
They persisted diligently, even after Grandma gave them a polite “no” on our behalf (I was half-thinking about running off and joining them, personally) until finally she lost her temper and ran them off like we did the stray dogs in our yard that would sometimes come sniffing around begging for scraps.
“You will regret this,” one of them said as they left, and we would soon find out the full fury of their words.
At the store, Grandma was banned from buying anything after someone accused her bald-faced of stealing tomatoes, so that for a few months, we had to go to the grocer that was four blocks farther from our house. At school everyone did their best to make my life miserable, including the teachers. The kids at recess would call me names like “death lover” and “dead boy,” but I stood up to them as well as any dirt-faced boy should be proud of, not letting anyone see me cry. Insults were thrown as heavy artillery across the battle line, but there were no bricks through our windows (thank god,) as the movement against death mounted.
After a year of two of this had passed, we got our worst shock ever one morning as Grandma went to put out the cat and got a bitter surprise instead. Her scream shattered the crystal off the morning grass, and I came running just as fast as I could when I heard it, abandoning the last soggy bits of my Lucky Charms breakfast at the bottom of my bowl. Well it didn’t take long for me to figure out what she was screaming about, but it took me longer to figure out what it meant.
Up in the high realms of the proud Oak in our back yard hung death, still except for the stray breeze fluttering his robes every now and then. I wasn’t a racist, but there was something reminiscent of the old south in the way that death hung from our tree like a misshapen fruit, hemp-stem bunching the robes around the base of his neck. It made me wonder what kind of a person would do this kind of thing.
Grandmother called up the rest of the family, unsure what to do next, and they all reckoned she was off her rocker until they came to see the sin for themselves. Uncle Albert cut death down as gently as he could, sawing off the rope with the Swiss army knife that never left him.
After a small discussion it was decided that death should be given a proper Christian burial, because really, what else was there to do?
Death died this morning. Uncle Albert reckons it was those damn commie bastards who committed the crime, Grandma says that it’s got to do with religion, but I have my own theories. But one thing was for sure, as we stood over the hole of fresh dirt, hands clasped, lacking for even awkward words to say. Death was dead; there was no denying that, and dark times were sure to be coming over the years just ahead.

In Her Embrace

To say that the world we lived in was unfair would be putting things mildly. In this world you were one of two things: a stepping stool to be quite literally walked over, or the one doing the walking. Looking around the barely lit room at my sorry-looking bunch of friends set things in stone. We were the equivalent of sentient ants, and I hated it. I looked out through a hole in the room, seeing us being taken into some kind of building. My stomach churned at the thought of our futures.
Murmurs were quietly flung around the dark interior of the moving room. Some of us were merely terrified of what would become us, others talked of how they would fight back tooth and claw against the behemoths. I audibly laughed at that one, drawing the attention of the room for but a moment before they were back to murmurs and mumbles. It was fine and well to talk of fighting, but we weren’t in the presence of the giantesses. They were massive creatures that could stomp the life out of you in a single step, or crush you between gargantuan hands. Based on my own few encounters with the titanesses, they seemed to look down at us, viewing us as playthings and entertainment.
Suddenly the room lurched and sent everyone inside to the floor. The floor itself was odd in that it didn’t feel entirely solid. It felt almost like the boxes that the giant women ate food from. Cardboard I think they call it. I staggered to my feet when suddenly a giant blade tore in from the ceiling, slicing down the length of it and then pulling out. Needless to say it had everyone’s full attention, freezing us in fear. Our room was then flooded in light: the ceiling torn open in two distinct pieces. A face came into view, towering above us and visually investigating our tiny selves while a satisfied smirk formed across its bright pink lips.
The room was once again picked up, shaking us, its occupants, quite violently. We soon found our world shifted upside down as the room was flipped, and we were dumped into a new place. I expected myself to shatter on impact with the floor, but a leafy covering absorbed the kinetic energy from the fall. Looking around this new locale, it appeared as if there weren’t any walls at all. It puzzled me greatly. I tepidly approached the edge of the leafy floor, reaching out a nervous hand to feel some kind of invisible wall, preventing my escape.
Cackling sounded on high, “It’s called glass. Wonderful stuff.” I spun around to find our giant captor eying us, her smirk now grown into a humungous smile. “You should sell very well,” said the giantess, nodding to herself before standing to her full, daunting height and walking off.
So there it was. We were in some kind of slave market for these women, destined to be sold off to whoever paid the most. I knew I couldn’t fight the behemoths, but I could certainly attempt an escape. I recalled that we were dropped in, meaning that this so called glass wasn’t on the ceiling. Perhaps these glass walls could be scaled, so that I could hop over the top and flee from this terrible place. I felt ahead of me for any kind of handhold, but alas, the glass was perfectly smooth, and when I attempted climbing I merely slid down to the ground at my feet. I sighed, sitting down and looking around my abode. Across the room was a bowl, where some of my fellow captives ate hungrily from. Next to that was a high tower, which could be seen through like the glass, containing water. At least the self-named goddesses didn’t plan on starving us. At the sight of life’s basic necessities my stomach called out with a groan, signaling to me that it was time to eat. I didn’t like the idea of having to accept the giantesses’ food one bit, but at the same time I felt that if I was going to be trapped in here I might as well be comfortable.
I walked over to the giant bowl, peering over the edge into it. It was filled with brown pellets, the sight of which made me sick. Never the less, my stomach demanded food, and I would provide it with some. I picked up one of the pellets and smelt it; it gave off no scent whatsoever. Satisfied, I popped it into my mouth and chewed, finding it to be quite dry and crunchy. As for the taste itself I wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was artificial for sure, but as to what it was supposed to be impersonating I had no idea. It wasn’t vile, but it certainly wasn’t delicious. I ate a few more until my stomach was happy, followed by me slinking over to an unoccupied corner and curling up. The only thing I could do at this point was lie in wait for someone to purchase me. Some of the others in the cage where busy talking, but at present I wasn’t feeling very sociable. Why take the time to make new friends if we were just going to be separated? Feeling heavy, I finally snuck off to sleep.

The next couple of days passed slowly: everyday several women would visit our cage, and a few more of us would be taken away. At first it really tore me up inside: the giant hand coming down, snagging the person up as they screamed and ran in terror. But now that I’ve seen it happen so much, I’ve grown accustomed to it. I suppose the tiny grain of hope inside had starved and died. At this point there were just a few of us left roaming around the expanse of the cage. I wasn’t really paying attention anymore; my instinct to be on the lookout for giants had been locked away as it had no purpose. I was in this cage, and the giantesses were going to grab me whether I liked it or not.
I turned to gaze out the window the cage was by, as I frequently did, and gave a yelp of surprise, instead seeing a giant pair of sky blue eyes studying me. Having regained my composure, I stared back at the face. Her face didn’t have the coldness of the other women’s, and there even appeared to be a faint smile across her deep red lips. Her skin was flawless: a healthy tan free of freckles or acne. Slightly curly locks of dark blond hair hung in front of her face, with the rest of her gorgeous mane flowing down her back. As I looked her smile grew wider, before she finally spoke.
“Hey in there.” She said softly, voice bursting with hidden excitement, tapping the glass with a pink painted finger nail. I smirked, waving back at her. “You’re not afraid of me like your little friends are.” She said, giggling and wiggling her nose. I looked back over my shoulder at the other men in the cage cowering in fear at the back wall. I turned my attention back to the girl, who was grinning widely. “I want you.” She stated, reaching a hand in for me.
Tilting my head up and watching her giant hand descend for me was one of the most terrifying things I’d ever witnessed, but I held my ground. This seemed to impress the giantess even more, that I wouldn’t try to run from her manicured death dealer. Slender, soft fingers wrapped around my bare waist. Her grip was gentle yet firm, and I began to rise up out of the cage, presumably to a new life as a domesticated animal. She held me up to her face, giving me a chance to see her big beautiful eyes up close.
“Adorable.” She whispered, pressing me to her soft, cushion-like lips. If I were bigger, that would have been a kiss. With that out of the way she tucked me into the crook of her arm: fishing a wallet out of her purse required the use of both hands. I noticed that her body had a bit of an odor to it; she was in a tank top, leaving her arms exposed completely. I assumed that the temperature outside was very hot, especially considering the dampness to her armpit region. There was a feminine quality to the smell, though it still had a foul side as well. Although it overpowered my tiny nostrils, to women her size it was probably barely noticeable.
The woman from before, our initial capturer, worked the counter, taking the new giantess’s money and producing a collar. “What do you want to name him? I need to print the tag.” She said, turning on a metal monstrosity that was most likely the tag labeling device.
“I already have a name.” I said, waving to get the slave selling owner’s attention. Both women looked at me, stunned. I guess they weren’t use to a tiny person talking as if we were on an equal level.
The store owner shook her head dismissively, “Better punish him, or he’ll start thinking backtalk is alright,” She advised, getting a tag ready. She asked again, “What do you want to name him?”
My soon to be mistress gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher, before planting a new grain of hope inside of me, “What’s your name?” She asked gently, plucking me from her sweaty underarm and holding me in front of her majestic face.
How odd that now I was the one smiling, “Matthew.” I said, turning and giving the person selling me a smug look of victory. The anger in her eyes was apparent; if she had the chance she would have crushed me.
My owner grinned, “His name is Matthew.” I realized just then how pretty her smile truly was; perhaps she was different from the other giantesses. The metal machine whirred, punching my name into the tag. The tag and collar were then passed into the friendly giantess’s hands, “Hold still.” She instructed me, holding me up to her face. I obviously wasn’t going anywhere being held this high up. Her other hand came into view, the collar opened and headed for my neck. I felt humiliated at having to wear it, but I didn’t have a choice. There was a click, and the collar was attached, the metal tag hanging in the front; it was cold against my chest.
“Do you want a box to bring him home in?” The shopkeeper asked curtly, obviously ready for me to be out of her hair. The gentle giantess looked down at me, thinking. I pleaded with my eyes, praying she wouldn’t put me into another box. It was dark, uncomfortable, and usually resulted in me getting flung around.
“Nah, I’ll just carry him, thanks. Have a nice day.” She said, smiling politely and turning to leave the store, me in one hand while her purse hung over her bare shoulder. I felt a tremendous amount of relief to finally be leaving that melancholy place, and better still, I was leaving out of a box. It felt heavenly when she opened the door of the store. I saw the sun for the first time in what felt like years, and a cool breeze blew across my face.
“So, what am I supposed to call you, gentle giantess?” I asked sweetly, wanting to stay on her good side, seeing as she was in charge of my fate.
The nameless giantess giggled, stroking my head with a finger, “My name is Adalia, but I’d prefer it if you called me mistress.” Adalia approached a new kind of box, this one on four black wheels with glass all over. Mistress opened a door on the front left side, sitting down in a black leather chair, her breasts being pressed up against a wheel of some kind. Suddenly the seat reclined a bit, giving her relief based on the sigh she made. She set her purse in the seat next to her, grabbing the door and closing it quite loudly. “Where to put you?” She wondered aloud, furrowing her brow a bit and gazing at me. “I think I’ll give you a reward, for being such a polite little pet.” She winked at me, causing me to blush out of reflex. Adalia adjusted her tank top, giving her chest room to poke out of the top, emphasizing her ample bosom. Using her other hand to increase the gap between her breasts, she lowered me down and let me drop a short distance so I could land safely between them. My face was alit by red blushing at this point, and it only got worse when she pulled her hand out of her cleavage and let the giant flesh orbs move back into place, gently squeezing me between them. Although they weighed a massive amount, they were soft enough to hold me firmly yet comfortably in place. “Comfy, pet?” Adalia asked, giggling as she inserted a key into the wheel, causing the box on wheels to roar into life.
I nodded after a moment, which I used to compose myself, “Yes mistress; thank you!” I laid back against the soft flesh and closed my eyes, the warmth between the breasts warming me up like a blanket and drawing me into a restful state.
Adalia spoke after glancing down and seeing me beginning to nap, “You might as well sleep, it’s a long drive home. I came out here special, just to get you.” She said, reaching down and patting my head with a finger tip.
I followed her advice right away, rolling over and resting my head against her, quickly falling into a slumber. My dreams fluctuated between being nightmares and paradise; one moment I’m being stomped on, the next I’m sitting in the grass on a hillside, watching the sunset.

“Hey, wake up.” I heard softly, being repeated. I struggled awake, opening my eyes with difficulty: obviously I had enjoyed my sleeping place. I looked around, now inside what must have been her house, and to be more specific, her bedroom. Her bed occupied the far corner, pink sheets adorning it with an array of pillows to lie on. A box with glass sat on the opposite wall, facing the bed. It was wide and flat, with buttons the size of my head on it. A desk that would be relatively large to mistress was next to the bed, with another box similar to the one across from her sleeping area. There was also a board of some sort, with little buttons that had letters, and some kind of wired device, sitting on a pad. I also noticed, much to my horror, a metal cage on the desk. The bars were silver, with a water jug on the inside as well as a bowl, and a big wheel, presumably for exercise. “Welcome home, Matt. This is my room, and as you can see, over there is yours.” She pulled me from her breasts and into her hand, walking across the room and sitting on the edge of her bed, holding me up to the cage.
“Do I have to be put in there?” I asked, frightened of it, “I promise not to run away; it’s not like I can really go anywhere. I really don’t like the idea of the cage, mistress.” I pleaded, hugging her thumb as I needed something to hold, to calm myself.
Mistress sighed, “I know you don’t like it, but I can’t have you running around my house either. Even if I knew you weren’t going to run away, there’s the possibility of you hurting yourself, or being accidently stepped on.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, “Look, I’ll only put you there for bed time, alright? Otherwise you’ll be on my person.”
That took quite the load off of my shoulders! My face must have shown it too, because Adalia’s smile grew into a grin. “Mistress, what are those boxes?” I asked, pointing at the one across the room and then the one atop the desk.
“Ah, that one, across from my bed is called a television, TV for short. This other one is called a computer monitor, or flat screen. Here.” She laid back in the bed and grabbed some kind of small device, pushing a button and causing this strange ‘TV’ to burst with colors, while giantesses yelled quite loudly about something called ‘McDonald’s’ and how delicious it was.
“Do you live with them?” I queried, wondering if I would have to obey other mistresses.
Adalia gave me a confused look, “Live with them…? Oh!” She must have had an epiphany of sorts. “You don’t get it- they’re a recording…like, a moving picture. They can’t see you.” She said, giggling at my apparent stupidity.
“Oh…” I mumbled, blushing and feeling embarrassed at my lack of knowledge. “So this flat screen is like a miniature television?” I asked, trying to recover what little dignity I had left.
“Sort of yeah. Think of it more as a limitless book though. There are more moving pictures on it, as well as music and information for just about anything.” I was surprised that Adalia was being so receptive to my questions. Back at the pet store any attempts to ask the shopkeeper questions resulted in her shaking the cage.
My perch on Adalia’s hand began to quake, while a growling noise erupted from within her. “Hungry, mistress?” I quipped, while a huge blush spread across her face.
“I guess so, yeah. Come on, you can try some cooked food for once.” At the mention of cooked food my own stomach roared; apparently I was hungry too. “I guess the pet pellets don’t satisfy?” She asked, walking for the kitchen with me once again in her gentle fist.
I shook my head, resting my arms on the knuckle of her thumb, “Not really. They’re dry and rather plain. You can eat and eat them and never feel full.” I stated, resting my head on my arms.
“Guess I’m glad I didn’t buy a bag then.” She chuckled, setting me down on the kitchen counter, now opening a large white box that oozed freezing air. “By the way, this is called a fridge. It keeps food cold so it doesn’t expire and go stale.” The technology that these women had was astounding; if they’d only share it with us then we wouldn’t have to sneak around and steal things to eat. It almost seems as if the giantesses had created the tension between themselves and us by their greed. I wasn’t going to say this to Adalia of course.
Adalia pulled a circular package from the fridge, opening it with a fingernail. “Is that a…um…pizza? Some of my cage-mates had told me about how good they were.” I said, watching her insert it into what I suspected to be the so-called oven.
Adalia nodded, “Yup. And you’re friends were right: pizzas are extra yummy.” She said, coming over to my place at the counter and looking down at me. Tilting my head to match her gaze, I found it difficult to see her face past her bosom. “It must be so weird to be as small as you.” She said, climbing onto the counter and sitting next to me. For the first time since we’d met I got a chance to see her lower half. She wore a dark blue skirt, though at the moment it was riding a little high, giving sight to her golden thighs. Moving lower, her calves were covered with pulled up socks, while her feet were shoeless. “Checking me out pet?” Adalia cooed, startling me out of my trance and causing me to shoot my gaze up.
“Well, err, you’re just…very pretty.” I said finally, choosing to just be honest with mistress. Adalia’s hand came down behind me, scooping me up onto the palm and bringing me to her face.
She had a kind, compassionate look, “Aw, thanks Matt. I think we’ll come to be great friends.” She said, again pressing me against those beautiful lips of hers. And much to her surprise, as well as my own, I kissed back, hugging into her puckered lips while placing my own on hers. Mistress pulled her hand away, ending the kiss a few moments later. “Thanks…it means a lot that you’re so accepting of me. Men seem to hate us giantesses…” A faint smile formed, “I guess I got lucky with you.”
The pizza soon finished cooking, as noted by the loud buzzer. Adalia was kind enough to turn it off quickly and end the abuse on my ears. “Be careful; it’s hot,” She warned, setting the pizza and me on the dining room table. Adalia took a piece and sat it on her plate, tearing off the tip of the pizza and offering it to me. “Just tell me if you want more.”
I put the pizza in my mouth tentatively, never having food that was hot and fresh before. My eyes went wide as an explosion of flavor flew across my tongue. “Can I have this all the time mistress? It’s so good! Like nothing I’ve ever had before! It’s not even cold!” I exclaimed, astounded.
Adalia began to laugh, having to stop eating to prevent choking. “We can have something different each night then, so you can start to find out what giantess foods you like and don’t like.” I nodded, beginning to stealthily scoot closer to her on the table, until I was seated right under her chest. Adalia leaned over and looked at me with a smirk, before sitting back up. I wondered what that could have been about, until she leaned down, resting her heavy breasts on my miniscule body. She wasn’t letting them crush me of course, rather just giving me a pleasant place under them.
I sighed comfortably, closing my eyes once again. “Thanks, mistress…” I said quietly, reaching up and patting the breasts before relaxing while she finished eating.

About ten minutes later she was finally done, and had put her plate in the sink. She turned a knob, and water came out of a long pipe called the faucet. It was simply fascinating to watch; it was a miniature waterfall! “You giantesses have so much technology…” I mumbled, astounded.
Adalia grinned, setting me on her shoulder, “Do you mind sitting on my shoulder, or would you prefer being carried?” She asked softly, since I was now right next to her mouth.
“I’m fine here as long as you don’t start running or making fast movements.” I took some locks of her golden-brown mane and wrapped them about my torso, acting as a nice little safety tether.
Adalia began to walk towards her room, “Time to hit the sack…” She said softly, plucking me off her shoulder and opening the cage, setting me inside gently. I laid back in the bedding material as she went to the dresser to change into a night gown. “Look at you, politely looking away! You’re really one of a kind, you know that?” She said softly, laying in her bed and gazing at me fondly. I sat up to look at her, giving a faint smile. Adalia was obviously a kinder owner than the other girls, but the cage still made me immensely uncomfortable. “Good night, Matt.” She whispered, turning off the light and casting me into darkness.
I laid back down, trying to get to sleep as best I could, but no matter how I lay sleep would not seek me out. Finally Adalia spoke again, “Could you stop moving please?” She asked sweetly, though there was obvious frustration behind her voice. Perhaps she couldn’t get to sleep either? The most likely reason of course was the crunching of bedding under my shifting form.
“Sorry mistress…I’m having trouble getting to sleep.” Suddenly the lamp was turned back on and Adalia had gotten out of bed, now standing before the cage. I must say I was a bit frightened: what if I had upset her?
“Come here, you…” she murmured, opening the cage and picking me by my underarms. “I can’t sleep either. How bout we watch a movie?” I smiled and nodded eagerly. Adalia settled back into bed, now cuddling me close as she picked up the television remote. She moved through several menus until reaching a movie called ‘Attack of the 50ft Woman.’ “This movie has great special effects,” She explained as we watched, “Look at how they make the men look normal sized! And then…” The woman on screen began to grow, until she was bigger than the men and women both! “Look at how they even make the women look small! And this is a fairly old movie too.” She said, petting down my back as the film went on.
That’s how I spent my first night with Adalia, before succumbing to sleep and passing out halfway through the movie, which she thought was absolutely adorable.

Letter To Santa

Dear Santa:



Look, I know you’re busy, and that’s cool. I’m Johnny, that’s my name. Ya see, I been runnin’ into a lot of problems lately, but I’m straight, dude, I’m cool. I know how it works, you and the god damn list. Excuse my forwardness on the situation, but I ain’t got that much time, shit to do, just like you, my man.

Yo, I wanna thank you, for doin’ your job so well. I mean there’s fat guys everywhere, old ones too. But you know how to handle shit, yea. I’m a tell you ‘bout this little incident you may have heard of, but ya know, it’s cool, they just prob’ly didn’t explain it straight as I will.

So I was in the old school-yo the other day and I came into class a little late. Alright, so it was pretty god damn late, what do ya want from me? I’m a kid…fuck. Excuse my language, Santa. So I walk in to class late and this teacher of mine, that’s what he calls himself anyway, he says, “Johnny, you’re late again young man. I don’t think you respect me.”

I lowered my shades and I says, “Look, teach’, I was doin a pretty girl a favor.” Now, I said this very sincerely, I mean it was true after all. Fuckin’ teach’ says, “Johnny, you’re interrupting class. Now sit down and open your Math book.” I didn’t sit down, Santa, I just stood there, ya know, and I says, “pally…” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully cause, ya know, I’m a deep thinker. I says, “I ain’t got the time for class today. Ah, maybe you can teach these kids somethin’, but I’m a notch above, ya see. Anyway, teach’, I’m just here to see Cindy.” Yea and then Cindy blushed, covering her face with her hands; she’s real cute, yo. I says, “Cin-deeeee! I’ll catch ya after, babe.” I put a smoke in my mouth and tilted my shades back up. I says, “Johnny’s gotta jet, pallies. Take it easy, I know I will.” And I left.

Yea, so the principal walks up to me in the school hall and she says, “Johnny, you cannot smoke, you’re too young. Why aren’t you in class, young man?” I lifted my hands in that upward notion, ya know – show her, yea and so what. I says, “I’m a little busy, teach’.” I started walking away and this lady, she’s nuts man, she grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, she says, “I’m calling your parents, Johnny. You’re coming with me ‘Mister I’m Too-Cool-for-School’.” When she grabbed me, she knocked my shades off, bro. They broke on the floor, popped out the frame. I’m like, what the fuck, yo. That was my favorite shades man, that was me. I got the sun tryin’ a blind out my eyes otherwise. I look like everybody else without ‘em. I’m like a fuckin’ kid in there without any god damn brains. So my mouth drops open and I look at this old bag, I says, “you fuckin’ bitch. You have no fuckin’ clue what you’ve just done.”

So her eyes get all big, I don’t know why, guess she’s shocked to shit or somethin’, and she grabs my arm, cocks it to the side like I’m a fuckin’ child. “Get ya fuckin’ hands off me,” I says. Now, I don’t say that often to any lady friend of mine, so this is deep shit right here. Fuckin’ teach’ starts yelling, “security, security!” And that’s when I get pissed off. You know I’m a cool guy, everyone knows I am, but ya know, I can only keep composure for so long. I yanked my fuckin’ arm back and I popped my switch blade from my back pocket, it’s always there. And I was angry man, I says, “you bitch, you fuckin’ bitch.” I was so angry that I was spittin’ drool, man, I never do that, that ain’t cool, that’s wild shit right there. I slashed her belly, man oh man. Damn blood just sprayed out like some kinda sprinkler outta hell, ya know. But this wasn’t it; I didn’t feel that I had really evened it all out.

I’m a cool fuckin’ guy, I’m fuckin’ Johnny. Nobody and I mean nobody, fucks with me. Not some fuckin’ teach’, not some fuckin’ kiddy-yo, not the god damn old man, nobody. Johnny knows best, Johnny takes care of Johnny. My eyes were real cold, ya know, I couldn’t loosen up into my usual coolness. Nah man, my eyes were sharp as my switch that I sharpen twice a day. Twice a day-yo, morning and eve’ I sit there, ya know, flippin’ those pages of Playboy and the like, sharpening that blade, man. Gotta keep it sharp, or what good is it, ya know.

So this bitch had really unsettled me, man. I kept stabbin’ her after that first slash and she’s fuckin’ bleeding, bro. It was like fuckin’ springin’ a bag of water. Everytime I stabbed her, blood was shootin’ out, man. I mean, some kids would be real ‘fraid of the gore, the horror, and all, but not me man. Johhny ain’t no ‘fraidy cat. Johnny is one cool motherfuckin’ cat. Johnny don’t take no shit. So she’s ya know, full of holes and just bleedin’ like it’s goin’ outta style or somethin’ and I was still pissed, man. I went to her neck and I told her to her face, yea. I says, “do you understand me, you don’t touch me, you don’t bother me, you don’t fuckin’ talk to my girlies. Nothin’!” I told her straight, dude, told her real fuckin’ straight. That lady there, man, she knows. She knows not to fuck with Johnny. Ain’t no one gonna fuck with Johnny after that.

So here I am though. You’re a cool guy, I’m a cool guy. Ya know, I know your job is tough and shit. You’re fuckin’ old Saint Nick, for fuck sake. Sorry ‘bout my language-yo. It’s just that I gots this big vocabulary of words and I gotta throw d’em words out, man. Gotta educate this world with my shit, yea. People tell me I’m smart, all the time, man. They says, “Johnny, you’re goin places.” And I says, I tell ‘em, “That’s right-yo,” cause it is, yea.

So after this little incident with the head teach’, they took me to this place I hadn’t seen before. Ya know, I get around, see the sites and shit, but I hadn’t seen this place ‘fore. They tells me, they says, “Johnny, what you did is wrong. You know this, you might be 10 years old, but you know the difference between…” I cut ‘em off there, I says, “Pal, you don’t gotta tell me ‘bout no morals and shit, I’m fuckin’ Johnny, I know what I do, man,” I told ‘em that-yo.

Yea, so I’m at this new place and they kinda lock the door for me, I mean it’s nice, but I could do that myself. I got this yard, ya know. I got sunlight comin’ down, so that’s cool. It’s about half a court’s size. And they give me these pills-yo. They says, “Johnny this’ll make you even cooler.” And, ya know, fuck yea I’m down, I take them pills and throw em down that hatch, man, swallow that shit nice and good-yo. But I’m writin’ you in case you got the wrong side of this story ‘a mine, ya see. I’m a cool guy-yo, you keep me on that cool list and we’ll chill, yea. You and I’s can grab some smokes, grab some milk, and hit that shit up. We be good pals, Santa. Visit any time, my man.



With Respect, Johnny

Depression

I've heard so many people tell those who suffer depression to just 'cheer up.' I wonder if they can really believe that it’s that simple.
Depression isn't just sadness. It is emptiness, it is misery. It is pain and nothingness at once. When you are truly depressed you lack the ability or will to cheer yourself up. No one just ‘has depression.’ You suffer from it. This is depression:
You will wake at 5, 6, maybe 7am, feeling as though you had only just fallen asleep. It’s likely you did. If you don't have to be somewhere, you could lie in bed for another 3 hours...too tired, too miserable and pathetic to crawl out of you bed. Or maybe you will sleep until 1pm, because it’s so much easier to sleep through most of the day than actually live it, and you’re so unbelievably tired anyway. You will push through the day, knowing that every hour will be a struggle and not knowing how you will feel tomorrow. People will ask what is wrong, and you will simply smile and say 'nothing, I'm just tired.' Yes you are tired. You are so tired of drifting through every day, with no will to actually live. But you simply smile, and they'll believe you. It’s so much easier to lie anyway, and most of the time you can push away the guilt. Sometimes you might find a way out, temporary as it may be. You might write or draw or sing. Or you might cut, burn, binge, purge, drink, starve, scratch, pull, overdose...anything to take your mind away from the utter misery it seems to be so obsessed with. What you don't know is that soon these acts will take over your thoughts. You will spend your days not only lost in the haze of depression, but your mind will be so consumed with these thoughts of escaping and self destruction that you think you could explode. You will see a series of lines, and think of the lovely scars you could make, where you will make them. Your mind will be permanently spinning with thoughts of this pain, and different ways you might destroy yourself or, more precisely, this monster inside you. But of course none of this will work. You will still spend your night alone, sitting and staring at nothing, completing mindless tasks as if they have some importance, as if you are really there. Be careful where you let your mind wander. Night time is the darkest time in depression. That's when all the demons come out, when you become weaker. It is when you will hurt yourself simply to make the urges stop for 5 minutes. It is when you will spend hours crying or screaming for no reason other than the agony inside. You will shake and feel as though your whole body will cave in or explode. No one will understand. You do not have hospital beds, drips, bandages or needles to make people worry. To make them realize that this sad little girl is actually sick and needs help. Of course the depression will have destroyed any self esteem you might have had, so you'll be too scared to ask for the help you need. You just go on, hoping someone will notice your slow, meticulous self-destruction. Don’t worry, it won’t always be so bad. Some days you might even feel stable. You might walk tall for one day, feeling a glint of hope that maybe one day things will get better, that things are getting better and you have the strength to fight. Then one small thing will go wrong, and you’ll fall apart all over again. You feel stupid for even considering that things could get better.
Have you ever felt as though your whole body could just crumble any minute? Just crumble and fall apart, like it’s lost anything it had holding it together. That’s what it feel like all the time to be depressed. That raw fragility. It feels as though the smallest disruption in our life, or in your head, or in the world, could send everything spiraling downwards. And it can. The tiniest mistake can cause you to hate yourself more than you could possibly imagine. The smallest crack in your world can make it all seem pointless.
Depression destroys any resources you have. Any strength or courage you kept stored away for emergencies. So if the tiniest little storm hits, you are left to trying to survive the ravages of a cyclone without a life boat. It wears you down and even the smallest crack can seem like an earthquake and every minute is spent waiting for the next shake. And then one day, you will find yourself curled up on your bedroom floor, sobbing, because you can’t find anything to wear. Every little thing is just more proof of how worthless you are.
Eventually, you begin to expect it. You anticipate the bad times, because you know the good times are just fooling you. And they are filled with fear and anxiety over when everything will come crashing down again. You are always waiting for the next breakdown. You’ve become so accustomed to feeling miserable, that happiness is a foreign feeling that you won’t even let yourself experience. You don’t deserve it. So you become numb, which at times, is worse than the full-blown screaming and crying depressive ‘episodes.’ You find yourself begging to hurt again, because any feeling is better than feeling nothing at all.
Depression is one of the cruelest of all illnesses. You see, it’s much easier to fight when you can see an end to it all. When you know that in the end you will either win or lose. But whatever the outcome, the war will be over. The thing about depression is it blurs your perception of the future and makes it near impossible to see that end. You start to think that there’s no such thing as ‘winning’ and why bother fighting if you already know the outcome. It gradually strips you of any hope you previously had. And without hope, it’s difficult to see a future or a reason to fight.