D.X. Machina’s GTS-o-Rama

March 28, 2012

How Way Leads On to Way, Chapter One

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, How Way Leads On to Way — D.X. Machina @ 9:05 pm

“For what doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his own soul?”

                                                    –Matthew 16:26

“When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” 

                                                    –Lawrence Peter “Yogi” Berra, American Philosopher (1925- )


Brenton Eld fished out his key from his left pocket with a trembling hand, and carefully fit it into the lock on the door. He jiggled it, shifted it slightly, then turned it. He quickly grabbed the door knob with his other hand and opened it, moving quickly into the small studio apartment that was his home. Closing the door behind him, he bolted the door shut, switched on the light, and sighed with relief. Safe. He was safe.

“Safe? Is that what you think?”

Brenton dropped the keys. He knew the voice; it fit in that hollow spot of his soul just as the key fit the tumblers in the lock.

“I’ve taken precautions,” he said, not daring to turn to the kitchen, to the one he feared more than anyone. The one he should fear more than anyone.

“Oh, Brenton. Do you really believe that you have?”

“I’ve washed the walls with Holy Water. There’s a crucifix watching over the apartment. I’ve –“

“A crucifix?” The voice was mirthful, mocking. “I’m not a vampire, Brenton.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Did you hang up garlic? Maybe buy some silver bullets? Come now. Do you really think that these…precautions…will protect you from Me?”

“No,” Brenton replied, as a single tear tracked down his cheek.

“Good. You have disappointed Me enough, Brenton. At least you do not underestimate Me.”

“I would never underestimate you.”

“Excellent. Look at me, Brenton.”

Brenton Eid finally allowed himself to turn toward the kitchen, where He stood, calmly, hands on his hips, foot tapping impatiently. He was dashingly handsome, a tall, thin man with a ruddy complexion and a neatly-trimmed goatee, a red rose in the lapel of his black pinstripe suit.

“Lord Satan, I –“

“Now is not the time for explanations, Brenton. You failed Me. You know it, and I know it. We hada deal.”

“Yes, I know, but  –“

“I would allow you to live, and you would corrupt someone.”

“It’s not that I haven’t been trying, but –“

“And yet eighteen months later, what have you done? Lost the girl you told Me you had to live for. Lost the fortune you swore you were days away from making. Lost everything — and yet, you still have not turned anyone toward Me. You haven’t even tried.”

“Please, Lord Satan, give me more time, I just need to –“

“If you were actively trying, I’d forgive you. I am very patient. Oh yes — I am. But you come here at the end of each day and hide in the shadows, as if you can ignore our little bargain. And you cannot, Brenton. You exist at My pleasure; I can end your existence at any moment. And I will, you know. I will end it today.”

“Please, Lord Satan. Not the Pit. Not yet. I can turn someone, I swear it.”

“It is only because you know someone who is wavering that I come here today,” Satan said, calmly. “And so here is your mark: Tom Lane. You know him well, don’t you.”

Brenton knew his jaw had dropped. When he picked it up, he said, “Lord, not Tom. Don’t…don’tmake me corrupt Tom.”

“I don’t make you do anything, Brenton. If you do not wish to corrupt Tom, you do not have to. I can end this as easy as switching off that light; say the word, and we go back to the Pit — and Tom is safe. It’s your choice.”

Brenton looked at the Prince of Lies, and bowed his head.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

Shaitan Lucifer Iblis smiled his most winning smile. He gave Brenton his choice. And Brenton, he had chosen poorly.

“Just one little thing,” Satan said. “Just one little thing.”



August 21, 2011

It Helps to Have a Backup Plan

Filed under: Other Stories — Tags: — D.X. Machina @ 1:24 am

Once upon a time, in a nondescript college campus in a nondescript Midwestern town, there was a college senior named Paul.

Paul was studious, industrious, and hopeless. He was good-looking enough, and had he not lacked for confidence, he would have found he could turn the heads of any number of the girls he pined for. But that lack of confidence was his downfall. So convinced was he that he would strike out that he devoted time he could have spent trying to talk a fellow coed into some extracurricular activities into something rather ridiculous – no less ridiculous for working.

The drug metabolized quickly, and had a temporary effect; about four hours in the mice. He had tested it on rodents enough to get some basic idea of dosage and effectiveness. Of course, he had never tested it on humans; still, the biomechanics of it were simple enough. Humans and mice aren’t that different, all things considered.

In retrospect, maybe he should have tried it on himself in a controlled environment. But he really couldn’t wait to do what he wanted so desperately to do.

He had a shrinking formula. Of course he was going to go spy in the women’s locker room.

He could have gone to the campus rec center, but he knew that women would be coming and going all the time. He’d have to get into the locker room, undress, and take the formula without being seen. Even though it worked quickly on the mice, he didn’t want to chance a very awkward confrontation. So he chose his target carefully: the women’s soccer team. There were more than a few beauties on the team, and he’d get plenty of chance to get an eyeful, before and after the game.

All he had to do was head into the stadium an hour before game time, and enter the vacant locker room. (It was all open; the school was small, and security was lax.) He slipped into the locker room, and quickly removed his clothing, storing them in a locker where he could grab them later. He checked the clock; he knew he didn’t want to take the serum too early, lest he unshrink in the middle of the post-game showers. (Ah…post-game showers.) He waited until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and downed the vial in one quick gulp, tossing it into the trash can.

He suddenly felt sick, felt vile, felt as if he would explode. He dropped to one knee, and then fell onto his side. As the room spun, he thought to himself that it was odd – he’d never seen the mice faint.

* * *

He first was aware of voices, distant and distorted. As his mind tried to make sense of the input, he suddenly sat bolt upright, rubbing his head and looking wildly around. If the serum hadn’t worked, he’d be naked and lying on the floor of the locker room, and he’d be expelled very soon.

But as he looked around, he couldn’t quite work out where he was. It didn’t look like the locker room. He was on some sort of enormous, rough concrete plain, with boulders littering the field to the horizon, which ran up against skyscrapers that were taller than the tallest mountains.

And then the explosion happened.

It came from behind him, a deafening thud and he was airborne, tumbling over and over. He skidded several hundred yards, though miraculously, he was unhurt. He was facing away from the locker, looking at a hill, yellow and black, with a shape that would have been unmistakable even without the three stripes.

It was a shoe. An enormous shoe. Too enormous.

He had been aiming for an inch or two tall.

The world jolted, and a new earthquake knocked him flat, as the shoe’s owner appeared as if from nowhere, sitting down on the bench.

Her size was beyond description. He stared up the expanse of leg near the shoe, and tried to guess how far up it went before the cliff of the knee. Thighs that converged on panties large enough to cover the campus. Was it a mile? It was damn far. Her uncovered breasts were spectacular, despite their similarilty to warehouses. A mass of black hair was above them, but the face was so far away he couldn’t see her. Not really.

He had to get away. He had to hide. He was the size of dust. He could hide, and wait out the serum. Hopefully it would wear off. Soon.

The next earthquake was worse. A different girl approached, moving faster than a jet. She stopped just a few hundred feet from him. Far, far above he saw short shorts with pink panties peeking out. In spite of himself, he found himself aroused. Terrified, but aroused.

And then, the worst possible thing happened.

She gathered her uniform out of her locker, fumbling but one item, which floated to earth harmlessly. She picked up the sports bra, never realizing that it had picked up a tiny, briefly unconscious piece of dust. Sliding it over her head, she pulled on her goalie jersey and shorts, put on her shin guards and socks, laced up her shoes. And though she couldn’t feel it, about four hundred feet from her heart, a piece of dust was waking up.

Paul lay on a rough surface, one that felt not unlike soft plastic. It was dark, and every few seconds, the world seemed to sway wildly. He couldn’t get a bead on exactly where he was until things got quiet for a moment, and he felt the steady pulse that slightly shook the wall of plastic that the plastic floor ended in.

He was standing on her nipple. It was quite big enough for him, soft as it was. When he got right up next to the breast, he could see just a smattering of light from above.

He tried to think of what he could do to get out of this predicament. He tried to think about how he could survive. He tried to think about what he was going to do about his raging hard-on. He just knew he was in terrible trouble.

And then the team burst from the locker room, and he was in hell.

It was fortunate for Paul that his hostess was a backup. Yes, warm-ups were awful; when she stretched out, she dropped to her knees, dropped to her behind, bending over, tossing him into the front of her bra before whipsawing him back into underneath it, or in between them, or into the front of her nipple. She took practice shots, and with each one, her breasts bounced, and the tiny, sentient piece of dust that bounced back and forth from sternum to breast to nipple to breast, he prayed for death, and death didn’t come.

But at least she went back to the bench, and he could sit. And for most of the first half and through halftime and into the second half, Paul was able to rest, clinging to the top of her right breast. He had to admit, this wasn’t bad. Oh, it was terrifying. And next time he’d have to fix the dosage. But at least he was able to enjoy being at second base, no matter the appropriateness of the metaphor.

He might have lay there until the woman undressed, and he might not have learned much.

But the starter pulled a groin muscle. And so the mountain of girlflesh he sat upon entered the game.

And if warmups had been awful, this was something other than else. She was more than willing to lay out for a ball, landing hard on her chest. And if that kicked some dirt out of its hiding place and out onto the collar of her shirt, she could hardly be bothered to notice. If that dust was caught by the breeze as she punted the ball and nearly blown away, only to grasp a thick cord that was one stray brown hair – her team had a one-goal lead. Who cared about dust? And as the dust tried to climb up the hair toward the enormous ear that might give him a chance at life, she moved to clear the ball, and he went tumbling down the mountain, landing in the middle of the penalty area, a forest primeval.

And then the ball sailed overhead, and the shoe crashed down near him, and all was black.

* * *

He awoke hours later. Alive. He was alive.

He knew he’d almost died. He knew he had to get back to the dorm before he was spotted naked. But it had been interesting.

Except for the fact that the grass still was enormous, though only a few feet over his head.

He was an inch or so tall, just like he planned.

He sighed. He wondered how long this would last. And what disaster would follow.

July 9, 2010

Mala’s Legacy: Amy

Filed under: Mala's Legacy — D.X. Machina @ 4:21 am
The start of the next day was not like the start of any day I could remember. The fact that I slept as late as I desired was not the unusual part; more days than not had I been put away at night, to awaken alone, long after my mistress had departed.

But even though this was not an unusual occurrence, there was something different about it. Usually, my sleep was punctuated by the sounds of my owner getting dressed, getting ready to go to work or to school or watching television. But this sleep was blissful and uninterrupted. My owner, Diana, was not in the bed next to the table on which I slept; clearly, she must have woken some time before. I knew she must have crept from the room quietly indeed. Giants were noisy. They couldn’t help it. There was so much of them. It was impossible for them to move silently. And yet, somehow my mistress had managed. And though years and years of terror caused me to momentarily panic that Diana had abandoned me, somehow I knew that she had done so not out of malice, but out of kindness. She had let me sleep, had gone out of her way to make sure I could. She had shown care toward me.

I was nonplussed by it.

I rose from a bed of panties that she had arranged for me, folded into a small bed. She had even arranged a small thimble of water for me, when I admitted that I liked to drink and eat, even if I didn’t have to. Mala had seen to that. I had starved, I had thirsted, I had even wanted for air; none of it could kill me or even harm me. All disconcerted me now; all had terrified me in turn as I’d endured each the first time. But none frightened me as much as being without a mistress to keep me whole.

A sound of soft thuds announced Diana’s presence at the door to her bedroom, peeking in toward me. Seeing me standing, she smiled, and crossed the distance quickly.

She wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and as she dropped to a knee to get closer to me, her breasts swung impressively. She ran a hand through her unkempt hair, and my stomach lurched. I had seen many women made up far more than her at that moment — and many made up a good deal less. But I’m not sure I had ever before felt what I felt then. Many months later, I would tell Diana about it. But not yet.

“I see we’re awake,” she said, smiling. “Did you sleep okay?”

“It was the best night of sleep I can remember, mistr…I mean, Diana.”

“Old habits die hard, huh? I took the day off. I didn’t want you to wake up on your first day here all by yourself.”

“But this is my fourth day with you,” I said, then flinched, awaiting her correction.

She was right. Old habits do die hard.

Her correction did come, but not in the way I feared. Instead, her smile faded for a minute, as a cloud passing over the sun. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I’d done this for you the first night. Wish I’d seen you for what you are the moment I opened the box from Annabelle. Can you ever forgive me for that? I promise, I’m going to make up for it, starting today.”

“It is my first day here if you say it is,” I said.

“No. No! No, it’s the fourth day. Damn it, will it mean anything if I tell you to disagree with me? Or will you disagree with me because you think you’re supposed to? You’ve been treated very badly, haven’t you?”

“Not by you,” I said, and somehow, somewhere in me, a long-buried pathway in my mind reawakened, if only for a moment, and the words came tumbling out. “You were kind even before last night. In the first few days, you were gentle with me. You didn’t force me into you. That’s what most women do, you know, they just spread their legs and shove me inside, or else hold me hard against their clits, making me struggle for freedom while they enjoy themselves. And I know it’s the price I pay, but it’s hard.

“But you…even before you talked to me last night, you took your time with me. You offered yourself, you didn’t force me to do anything. You set me there. You let me move at my own pace. You even tried to make me feel good. You touched me…my…uh….”

The words halted abruptly, as I felt myself blushing deeply, as if Diana cared whether I had enjoyed myself when she’d rubbed her pinky gently over my penis, back and forth, idly, until I burst forth.

But Diana didn’t seem put off by my diatribe. Instead, her smile had widened. “It did look like you were enjoying yourself. But come on. Don’t tell me nobody ever did that for you before?”

“Not in a long time. One girl…who hadn’t been with a boy…and was curious….” I shuddered, involuntarily. “But she wasn’t interested in making me happy. She just wanted to see what would happen. I…I know that it’s not important that I enjoyed it. But it was kind of you.

“I mean, you were already one of the kindest mistresses ever to own me, Diana. You don’t need to apologize for anything as far as I’m concerned. You…you don’t even have to do this for me.”


“Treat me like one of you. Like a person.”

Diana sighed. “You are a person. You deserve to be treated like one. God. If me being not a total rapist and jacking you off once makes me one of the better women to meet you…you’ve met a lot of bad women.”

I sighed myself. “I don’t think most of the women I’ve met are bad. They just…you’re the first one to tell me I’m a person. I don’t even know if you’re right. But most women just treated me like other sex toys, like their dildos or vibrators. And they were doing me the favor. If not for them, I’d be tiny.”

“Which reminds me,” Diana said. “You have to be on my person for an hour today, or you shrink, right? How do you want to do that? I’m not making you dive into my pussy anymore. But I’ll definitely hold you for an hour each day to keep you whole. That’s the least I can do.”

I was shocked by the sudden turn of the conversation, so much so that I couldn’t even respond for a moment.

“I mean, you don’t have to decide right this instant,” Diana said. “Frankly, I’m not even sure where exactly is best. But you know, whatever works for you. Just let me know.”

“Do…did I displease you last night?” I asked.


“Did I do a poor job stimulating you?”

“No! Not at all. You were quite…stimulating. But I don’t want to rape you every night. You weren’t happy doing it. And if you don’t want to be my sex toy, that’s fine. I don’t mind. You don’t owe me your body.”

“And you don’t owe me yours,” I countered, in a voice that was not quite my own, but which seemed to come from a long-lost part of me.

“You’re right,” Diana said. “But I’m happy to give an hour a day to you to keep you healthy and full-sized. I’m giving it by choice. But if you don’t want to be around me, if you don’t want that, then you can leave. I don’t want you to go,” she said, seeing my face, ”but you always can go. You’re free.”

My stomach lurched again, the same as it had when she’d first descended to my eye level.

“Diana,” I said, “I…I don’t know as I’ve ever chosen to be what I am. But…you are very kind. You’re pretty. You even keep your, uh…well, you are pleasant to be around,. And you are giving me more than I’ve ever been given. If…if you still want to use me…I would be happy to…continue to do other things than just sit in your pocket.”

Diana smiled as brightly as I had seen her to that point. “Little man, if I hadn’t been shoving you in my vaginal canal over the past few days, I’d think you were trying to talk your way into my panties.”

I struggled for words; I didn’t know how to explain what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted myself. What I said next surprised me and her alike.

“I’m happy,” I said, “just to be with you. To talk to you. If you didn’t touch me again, if you just…just talked to me as I shrunk to nothing…I would stay with you. If you wish to hold me and talk to me to keep me whole, I would be grateful and happy. If you wish to use me to pleasure yourself, I would be honored…and I would….”

I trailed off, as I choked off the last part of what the long-buried part of myself was trying to say. For good or ill, Diana forced the issue.

“You’d what?”

“I’d enjoy it, too.” I said, quietly. “It’s never been a question of my enjoying it, but…if I’m given the choice, I think I would.”

Diana leaned closer to me. For a second, I thought I’d said something horribly wrong, but she moved in until she was right on top of me, and she kissed me.

I fell backward with the force of her lips, and landed on my butt; she backed off quickly, her face lined with concern, but I was already laughing as I tried to right myself. “That was some kiss,” I said, chuckling.

She sighed in relief. “I guess I don’t know my own strength,” she said.

*  *  *

The day was heavenly. There were many such days like it to come — not every day, of course, though it seemed every day to come had a part of that day within it. But it was the first day in my memory I could remember that I spent with someone. Not adjacent to someone or in service to someone, but with them.

Diana had showered soon after our conversation, and then gave me a bath in her bathroom sink while she combed her hair. The issue of my shrinking was soon resolved for the day; I spent the rest of the morning perched on her shoulder, holding on to the spaghetti strap of her top, while we talked about her life and about making arrangements for my life with her. She told me about her family, about her ex-fiance, Jeff, about her job in the front office of a local toaster manufacturer. She decided that we’d go shopping that evening and buy me a doll bed, and maybe some doll clothes, so that I didn’t have to be naked if I didn’t want to. She even fixed us both breakfast — well, she fixed herself pancakes and made one enormous one for me. We lounged on the couch and watched television, with me lying on her stomach; she showed me her computer (she sent a letter on it to her friend Annabelle, thanking her for me; she had to rewrite it several times to eliminate phrases like “How could you not see he was a person?” and “What kind of monster are you? Am I? Are all of us?”).

And in the early afternoon, to make sure I wouldn’t shrink, we made love.

I’d never used that term to describe sex, not in this life. I’d heard it. But love had little to do with what I did, and what was expected of me. But this time…Diana had licked me first, had carefully manipulated me so that I had come before she even let me explore her. And I found myself exploring far more completely than I ever had.

I had seen many women up close — young, old, fat, skinny — and I had become hardened to what I was seeing. But on that day, it was as if I’d stumbled into a different land. Every inch of skin was amazing, the soft hairs on her stomach swayed gently with each breath. Her coarser hairs surrounding her vagina were not just rough handholds, but still-soft branches that bore her unmistakable scent. I lavished attention on her clit, while she simply lay back, letting me do the work, not forcing me, not directing me. Indeed, for the first time I could remember, I worked on her until she spasmed, and rather than hoping that she was done with me, I took the opportunity to slide inside her slickened sex, a place I usually tried to avoid. And though it was hot and dank and claustrophobia-inducing, I took advantage of the fact that I did not need to breathe, and I explored her as thoroughly as I could. Indeed, bizarre thoughts escaped me, as I wondered if I could take advantage of this, if we could not touch for a few days, if I could explore her more if I was smaller. And though I doubted I would propose it, I knew that Diana would consider it if I suggested it, if I explained why.

Because more of her wouldn’t be a bad thing.

* * *

After some time, laying on the bed, Diana turned to me and sighed. “That was incredible. Those other women didn’t know what they were missing. Did you enjoy it?”

“It was wonderful,” I said. “I…thank you.”

“So tell me,” she said, languidly, “how many other women have there been? Don’t worry. I won’t be jealous. The more there’ve been, the more lucky I am that you ended up here with me.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Dozens. Maybe hundreds. I don’t remember all of them. A few…well, I’m not proud of it, but when I was at my smallest, a few times I hid in the panties of a woman for a few days. I tried not to bother her, but it was so hard to contact women at that size. Usually I just tried to grow large enough to present myself to them without being squashed like a bug. But more than a few times, I got lost.

“I suppose I gave them no choice. Maybe I deserve….”

“No, you don’t,” Diana cut me off. “Did you try to make them come? Try to get them to orgasm?”

“No,” I said. “It happened accidentally a couple of times…but it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Well then. I’ll forgive you for that; given the way you’ve been treated, I think you’ve had the worse of the bargain. So I’m guessing those are the shortest times you were with a woman. What’s the longest?”

“The longest…was with Julia. It was years. It was…it was horrible. She did things….”

“What did she do to you?”

I shuddered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” said Diana. “So what’s the oldest woman you’ve been with?”

“I think Elizabeth said she was sixty.”

“Was she horrible?”

“Eh? No. Pretty decent. Better than most. Her daughter Kara gave me to her, then Elizabeth kept me for a while, and eventually gave me to her daughter Jennifer. That was a few years ago; it was along the chain of women that eventually brought me to you. Maybe twenty women ago.”

“Is that how you met most women? As a gift?”

“Mostly. Most women use me until they get tired of me, and pass me on. A few times I’ve been lost, usually left in hotels. A few times I actually escaped. But that left me alone, and put me at risk of shrinking. I escaped from Julia.”

I didn’t want to talk about Julia, but the escape wasn’t that bad. And so I told Diana of it.

* * *

I waited and waited for my chance, and one night, she forgot to lock my cage. She was tired. I snuck out of her room, and I hid behind her refrigerator for five days, letting myself get smaller and smaller. I had to get small enough so that she wouldn’t see me. Finally, when I was a little less than a centimeter tall, I snuck to her front door during the night. When she opened it, she let me out — didn’t even see me. My heart was beating so fast that if I hadn’t been taught by Julia that nothing could kill me, I would have thought it would burst.

I threw myself off the steps at the front of her house; the fall hurt like sin but I knew the pain would soon subside. When I felt whole again I got up, and headed through the forest of grass in the front of her house.

It took me a week to get through it. I saw her pass a dozen times, each time looming larger than the last. I was lucky that it was fall; the bugs had died off. When you’re a millimeter tall, ants are really frightening. But for once, I didn’t care how small I got. I couldn’t go back with Julia. And no, I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll tell you someday. But…not today.

Anyhow, by the time I reached the sidewalk, I was despairing that it could be months at this size. I had the misfortune of getting this tiny before, and it was always difficult to get near enough to a woman to hitch a ride with them. I mean, think about how tiny I am now. I’m more than a hundred times bigger than I was when I got out of the lawn.

Now, people would pass by, and I was willing to hitch a ride with any of them. Hitch a ride home with a little boy or girl and you might have a shot at getting their mom to help grow you; hitch a ride with a guy and if he doesn’t have a girlfriend or any girl friends he probably at least works somewhere with women.

But it’s not easy hitching a ride with someone when they’re the size of a mountain. If the guy out for a walk ties his shoe halfway down the block, if the friends out for a jog decide to sit down even a few feet away, if two kids are playing in the yard in the house next door, it’s still impossible to reach them. You need someone to stop dead right by you.Or you need to get lucky.

I got lucky. I thought I had gotten lucky when the overweight jogger stopped and put his hands on his knees on the sidewalk square next to my hideout in the grass; I ran as fast as I could toward him. But he didn’t stay put for long, and he took off again at full speed, with his foot landing next to me, blasting me into the air.

When you’re a millimeter tall, you’re pretty light, and I didn’t fall back to earth right away; I floated about knee high for a minute. That would have been the end of it — I would have landed, swore at myself, and tried again. But when I started to drift lower, from behind me two college students out for a jog blasted by me, and the eddies the left in their wake blew me out unpredictably.

I danced sideways and upward, now high enough in the air that the prevailing wind could get me. This had the effect of pushing me out into the street, just as a car was flying by at light speed.

Fortunately, it just passed near me. But after that, the energy that propelled me was such that I could barely even register what was going on. I was simply tossed on the wind, buffeted by other cars, thrown high up into the sky, until even my durable self nearly blacked out.

And then came the miracle. It was a cool fall day, but not cold; occasionally, someone would roll their window down while driving. That’s how I met Amy, who was on her way to work out; she had her window cracked, and the current of wind I was on was sucked into her window. Before I could even register what had happened, I was crashing into a mass of white fabric, and then tumbling down the front of her shirt until I fell right between two legs that were slightly askew, working the pedals on her car.

After a look skyward to confirm that the person I hit had breasts, I scampered inside her shorts, just in time for her to go in to the gym. I made it into her panties in time for her to climb on an excercycle for an hour. If not for Mala’s spell, I would have been goo.

But it worked. I revisited her panties for two nights, then hung out in her bed, trying to get her attention. I did, eventually, and while I was small, I was able to explain what I wanted. She was amused, and she kept me in her panties for a few hours the next few days. After that, she kept me bigger, but not too big — she’d let me sleep with her every four days, then stow me in her panty drawer, so that I was about the size of her fingernail when she pulled me out. But she wasn’t rough. And after Julia, it seemed like heaven.

*  *  *

“So when I hear about Julia, I’m going to have to kill her, aren’t I?”

“Today has been a wonderful day,” I said. “I don’t want to think about her again today.”

Diana smiled. “Okay. Besides, we have other business to attend to. You need a name.”

“I do?”

“Yes. I mean, what, am I supposed to call you Dildo Jones? I think not. No, while you were sleeping, I googled a few names, and I found one I like. But it’s your name. So you have to like it too.”

“I’m going to like any name you give me,” I said.

“Well, after that little story, I think it fits. You’re tough, little one. Feisty. I think the name ‘Leo’ fits my little lion. What do you think?”

“‘Leo,’” I murmured. I think I would have been happy with “Idiot,” frankly, had it come from her. This was much better. “I like it,” I said.

“Okay, Leo,” said Diana, happily. “So do you want to watch television? Or would you like to explore me some more?”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

May 8, 2010

Mala’s Legacy: Meeting Diana

Filed under: Mala's Legacy — D.X. Machina @ 12:41 am

She pulled me out of her sex, and I dripped with her juices. It was three days straight now, but I wasn’t surprised. I was a new toy. She was still interested in me.

With time, she’d grow bored. I knew this, and it did not concern me. Well, it did – but not for the reasons you may think. My size would be an issue. My heart would not. I knew this. I had been through it all before.

There had been others before. So many others.

She was maybe thirty years old. Maybe older. Maybe younger. She was not too young; when she looked down at me her skin showed just the barest hint of aging. A few lines around her eyes. A few more at the upturned corners of her mouth.

Not too old. Not too young.

I had been pulled out of many women, pulled by their massive fingers, some fumbling, some assured. Pulled from women who were indifferent, pulled from women who were pleased, pulled from women who were angry. It was my purpose.

It had ever been.

This night was a good night. At least there was a woman. At least she used me. I would not grow smaller tonight. I was already at my full size, so I could not grow larger, but I would not dwindle down to a speck, to the point where I would have to seek out a giantess.

But while this night was a good night, it was no different from many other good nights.


The woman looked down at me, and her contented smile changed as she regarded me. Her face fell, and her mouth turned down. My heart sank. She was growing tired of me already. Well, this would not be the first time. Hopefully, she would do as her friend had done – make a gift of me to another woman.

But she did something that surprised me, after all these years. She lifted me up past her mammoth breasts, and carried me up to her face. Leaning back against the wall, she looked at me, and finally, at long last, she spoke.

“Did you enjoy that, little toy?”

I tried to smile. They like it when I smile. “Yes,” I answered.

She looked at me carefully, and frowned slightly at that answer. At first, I feared that she was going to be sadistic, like Julia had been. That my declaration of pleasure would displease her. But that was not it.

“You didn’t really like that, did you?” she said. It was not really a question.

“My feelings are not important,” I said. “I am here for you, mistress.”

Her frown deepened. I had displeased her. Blast! I did not dislike this woman. I could find pleasure in her loins, but…well, I had experienced this so much. In truth, she was kinder than most. It was not her fault. It was mine.

“What is your name?”

Her voice was booming, but all the voices were booming. It was pretty, though; I imagined that were I her size, I would have found it soothing, warming like hot apple cider on a cold day.

But that was not the important thing. She had asked me a question. I should address her.


I stopped. For it had been a very long time since I had been asked anything personal. Anything that required an honest answer. They would ask the rules, sometimes. And I would tell them, tell them all about the rules that governed my existence. She had asked me, after I’d been given to her.

But it had been a long time since I had been asked anything about me.

“I do not know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I used to know, but….” I shrugged.

“Did you have a name?”

I sat, cross-legged, in the palm of her hand. I looked at her, and told the truth.

“Yes. I did.”

“What made you forget?”

I looked at the pretty woman. The prettiest I’d ever seen? I would say so now, but I would not have then. One of the prettier, yes, but there had been women whose physical beauty was….

But I digress.

I looked at the pretty woman, and I answered her truly.

“It was a punishment.”

Her eyes widened at that, and the hand that did not hold me covered her mouth. I did not recognize the emotion at first; I had not witnessed it in this life.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “What have I done?”

“I am grateful to you,” I said. “You’ve kept me whole for another day.” I’m sure I blushed. “I apologize,” I added, hastily. “I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

She looked at me, and seemed to recompose herself. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me,” she said. “You…you can always talk to me. I want you to.”

I was nonplussed. Talk to her? She wanted me to talk to her?

They never wanted me to talk to them.

I was a toy. A servant. I was here for her amusement. I was not one of the giants. I was being punished.

“Diana,” she said. “My name is Diana. And you…you will have to have a name. But not right now,” she said, as much to herself as to me. “Were you human? Like me? How did you get like this? Were you always this small?”

“I was once as large as you,” I said. “But I was punished.”

“You said. But for what?”

“I was unfaithful. She told me.”

“Who told you?”

“Mala. Mala told me.”

The woman looked at me, and said, finally, “Tell me what Mala told you.”

And so I did. (more…)

February 15, 2010

The Wager: Epilogue

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, The Wager — D.X. Machina @ 4:53 am



(“We have won”)

Hephaestus bowed slightly to Aphrodite. “Declare the terms of your victory.”

Aphrodite smiled triumphantly. There had been times when she doubted this moment would come.

“You will work for women. You will treat them equally to men. And you will grant me my freedom.”

Hephaestus looked at his wife, and sighed. He looked down at the ground, and wiped a tear from his eye.

“I only ever loved you, Aphrodite. But I gave you my word. And so it is. You are free.”

Aphrodite let loose a big sigh, three thousand years’ worth of guilt exiting with it.

She walked over to her ex-husband, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Hephaestus asked.

“Because I did love you, once,” Aphrodite said, “despite your flaws. And because maybe, some day, you may realize the error of your ways. When you do…come back to Olympus, Hephaestus. I may be willing to greet you there, if not as a wife, then as a friend.”

Hephaestus frowned. “My place is in Hell.”

“For now,” she said. “For now. But you know the Unspoken Principum. You know you may one day return.

“But now is not the time to discuss that. For now…I have one last duty to attend to.”

“Give them choice,” Hephaestus said.

“I will,” Aphrodite said. “I will.” (more…)

The Wager, Chapter 16

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, The Wager — D.X. Machina @ 4:21 am

Chapter Sixteen

(For the fairest)

The American poet Benjamin Gibbard once noted, quite accurately, that love is watching someone die.

“You two ready?”

Adam sat outside the plexiglass box that had become his home within his home in the past few days. It wasn’t a bad idea, mind you, the box – it would allow him more time with Stephanie. The world was becoming a very dangerous place for him, not that it hadn’t been before.

“Okay. Two minutes to air.”

Two weeks, it had been. Two weeks since the night that Adam had made it home, the night he and Stephanie had made love to each other despite the gulf between them, the one that had been widening for months.

“Do we have his mike up? We’re ready to go to him?”

In two weeks, the gulf had widened further. He was now just a centimeter tall, a bit less than four-tenths of an inch. The size of an ant.

“All right, camera four – the image is good. We’re just going to stay on that. 90 seconds.”

Stephanie loomed four-and-a-half times larger than she had that night he’d explored her. She appeared almost a thousand feet tall, over three hundred meters. There was no question of whether she was a skyscraper now. She would have been the tallest building in the state, by his lights. Her legs alone would have been smallish skyscrapers.

“One minute to air. Jayne, stand by.”

She sat by his side, on a chair that had been placed next to his table in the living room.

It wasn’t a prison. Stephanie had seen to it that he could open the doors to the enclosure that had been constructed for him, a feat of quick and intelligent engineering by a couple of engineering students at a local university. There were buttons that he would be able to press for another few weeks, anyhow.

But he wasn’t going to leave it much, he knew, and certainly not on his own. The world was a big place now. He only would leave if she was there.

“Thirty seconds.”

She looked down on him and smiled, squinting from her distant perch. She was trying to make out his features, he knew. He was too small for her to read him from more than a few inches away. And when she was a few inches away, she was too big.

He couldn’t integrate the enormous pool of an eye, the cliff of a nose, the rough terrain of her lips. He still ached for her. And they had kept making love these two weeks, as best they could. But each day had taken her just a little bit more beyond him. Each day, she became tougher to navigate.

February 9, 2010

The Wager, Chapter 15

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, The Wager — D.X. Machina @ 6:08 am

Chapter Fifteen

βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν (Kingdom of Heaven)

It would be nice to say that from that instant, Adam and Stephanie lived happily ever after. That the curse was broken, everything went back to normal, and they lived out their lives, happy and perfect.

But that wouldn’t be quite right. For one thing, nobody is really happy ever after. One suspects that Cinderella bickered with her Prince; one feels certain that Snow White and Prince Charming had to spend much of their first year of marriage simply getting to know each other. And how readily did Beauty take to the Beast, once he had become human again? The story is silent; we can only guess.

For another, the curse wasn’t broken. Adam was the size of Stephanie’s thumb. Whatever fate had brought him back to her had not cured him. The resumed their countdown to their separation, only now knowing just how painful it would be.

Adam and Stephanie desperately wanted just to melt into each other, but both knew within minutes of their uniting that simply being with each other would have to wait.

In real life, even in the happiest of real lives, there are still moments of doubt. There are still responsibilities to attend to. There are still promises to keep.

Adam had been the first one to broach the topic, some time after Stephanie had held him to her bosom.

“So…before we do anything else, we need to get you cleared,” Adam said.

Stephanie raised her eyebrows at this. “I don’t need to be cleared. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Adam said. (Stephanie strained to hear him. He was so much smaller now. She wondered if they could rig a microphone for him. She wondered if that would help.) “Of course you didn’t do anything. Only now, you have proof. Me. And I want you cleared immediately, because…Stephanie, you’re everything to me. I don’t want you getting attacked because I can’t keep myself safe.”

“I should have kept you safe,” Stephanie said, darkly.

“I don’t know if you could have,” Adam said, his eyes focused somewhere beyond Stephanie’s lovely, imposing visage. “The people who took me….”

Adam let the words trail off, because he realized to his horror that he would have to explain what had been done to him. He’d have to tell the police about the torture that was inflicted on him. He didn’t want to. (more…)

February 2, 2010

The Wager, Chapter 14

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, The Wager — D.X. Machina @ 3:16 am

Chapter Fourteen

Ἐπεὶ δ’ οὖν πάντες ὅσοι τε περιπολοῦσιν φανερῶς καὶ ὅσοι φαίνονται καθ’ ὅσον ἂν ἐθέλωσιν θεοὶ γένεσιν ἔσχον, λέγει πρὸς αὐτοὺς ὁ τόδε τὸ πᾶν γεννήσας τάδε” 1

Aphrodite swallowed as the thirteen members of the Council filed in, each sliding behind their chairs – well, all save Kunapipi, who simply floated in the space afforded her. They sat as one, as if they had choreographed their motions; as they sat down, the sober, dark man at the center of the semicircle spoke.

“You may be seated,” he said, in an accent not very different from the one Mami Wata affected. “The Council of Thirteen is now in session, a majority of its members being present, we shall first open with daily business, followed by the expedited petition in the case of Aphrodite v. Hephaestus. The Chair recognizes the distinguished Chair Emeritus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chair,” said Yhwh, stroking his long, white beard. “I request the call of the roll.”

“To what purpose?”

“We have quite a full house today, and I believe that a more formal introduction is warranted.”

“Because we are Gods, and we wish to be loved, you mean,” Anansi said, waggishly. “Very well, the distinguished Chair Emeritus has requested a formal call of the roll, are there three seconds?” Eleven Gods raised their hands. “Clearly three second, the Chief of Staff shall call the roll.” (more…)

January 22, 2010

The Wager: Chapter Thirteen

Filed under: Aphrodite Stories, The Wager — D.X. Machina @ 2:52 am

Chapter Thirteen

Λάθε βιώσας
(Live Hidden)

The great American philosopher Thomas E. Petty once observed, “The waiting is the hardest part.” Certainly, Aoibheal found this to be true. Standing, ready to defend against the Prince of Darkness, the goddess was quite certain that she was about to be destroyed.

“What stakes do you demand?” she asked, as the ritual required. She showed no sign of fear, but inside she quaked, as she expected the Ruler of Hell to demand her soul.

“I demand your obedience on an issue of importance,” Satan said, calmly. “And should you win, you will have the same of me.”

She frowned a bit. She wasn’t sure that being bound in Satan’s service was a better fate than being destroyed.

“You do not choose destruction?”

Satan laughed. “No, friend, I do not. If I start destroying other Gods, then other Gods will get angry, and come try to destroy me. Oh, I’m not saying I haven’t done so in the past, when things were a bit rougher. But these are better times. And so I ask merely your obedience. Nothing more.”

Aoibheal was briefly dubious; she was dealing with the Prince of Lies. But she nodded to the Devil. “My word is my bond,” she said.

“So let it be,” Lucifer replied, and bowed, respectfully, a motion Aoibheal mocked.

“Aye,” she said. “Let us begin.” (more…)

January 20, 2010

In Which I Go Begging

Filed under: Blog Stuff — D.X. Machina @ 10:48 pm

Hello. I’m D.X. Machina. You may know me from such posts as “Post I Can Fap To” and “Snarky Post That Makes No Sense Part V: Electric Boogaloo.”

Anyhow, I’ve been around the GTS community for a long time, and I’ve never asked for a dime for my work, because, well, I figured I’d write the stuff anyhow, so I may as well share it for free. And I’m pretty happy with that decision. Which is why I’m not going to ask for a dime for my work.

However, in the past month I’ve been diagnosed with testicular cancer. Happily, it’s a very treatable cancer, and one that hasn’t progressed very far; my chances of beating it are very, very good. Unfortunately, I live in America, and currently lack medical coverage. And that means that I’m already getting killed by the amount of money I’m having to fork over, and am only going to get killed now.

I know, things are tough all over. And I’m not the only charity case out there, nor am I the most important; if you have just $1 to give to charity, I urge you to give it to Haitian relief efforts.

But if you do have some spare money, and you’d like to share it with a guy who’s posted the occasional entertaining yarn on the internets over these fourteen years, then I wouldn’t mind if you found a way to share it with me. Consider it a tip. And if anyone asks what that payment was for, just tell them it was for a poor guy with cancer; telling them that it’s for a macrophile writer will get you looked at funny.

At any rate, the link to donate via PayPal is here.

If you can share, I’d appreciate it. If nothing else, it will keep me free to keep producing the giantess material you’ve come to expect for free. And if you can’t, well, I won’t hold it against you; things are tough all over, and I’m not the only one pinching pennies these days.

No matter what, I appreciate your time and consideration. Thank you for listening.

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