Giantess Stories: The Big Sisterhood By Poco    It

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The Big Sisterhood

By Poco

It's been said that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who think

there are two kinds of people, and those who don't. A bad joke. Well, that

changed two years ago. Now everyone KNOWS there are two kinds of people: women

and their playthings. Their playthings used to be known as men.

Men generally took care of women, loved them, cherished them, kept them safe.

At least that was the official line. The truth was somewhat different. For

uncounted generations, men kept women in a subservient role, denying them equal

rights, equal pay, even suffrage until 1922.

What they WEREN'T denied was "suffering." Suffer they did, but what could they

do? Men were bigger, stronger, and held all the cards. Some men even took

advantage of their size and strength to physically intimidate, even beat and

injure their gentle partners.

"Women's Liberation" made a splash in the 1960's, and some things changed. The

"Equal Rights Amendment" failed to pass in the 1970's, and nothing changed.

Through it all, the heat was slowly rising on a simmering undercurrent of female

discontent. The boiler blew two years ago.

It was the Gas. An underground group of feminists, fed up with delays in

equality, managed to fund research into a gas that acted on the cellular level,

wiping out at least a thousand cells of a given kind for each one left

untouched. The ratio was closer to 12-hundred to one. Result? The affected

person shrank to less than 1/10 of one percent of his former body mass.

I say "his" because the effect was activated by human male testosterone, and

negated by human female estrogen. Delivery was insidious: a guy could encounter

it anywhere. It could be in his wife or girlfriend's perfume. His own

after-shave. A scented candle, the cooling fan in a car engine. A blow dryer.

Any air-conditioning unit could release enough gas to get the job done. In

high-rise buildings, the males who walked into elevators often weren't able to

walk out of them -- swallowed up by the huge mounds of fabric they were wearing

as their clothes moments earlier. If a woman was in the elevator car with him,

sometimes he simply disappeared.

Men started reading about this in the newspapers, but not for long. Once

printers' ink was contaminated, the tiny amount that rubbed off on the fingers

created very tiny fingers indeed, and a body to match.

Within 2 months, the job was done. Those men who tried to hide simply prolonged

the inevitable. There are plenty of women pilots, and aerial sprayings above or

near suspected hiding places took care of those macho hermits who enjoyed

breathing every few seconds.

Let me catch my own breath. Jumping from computer key to computer key is a lot

of exercise, and the pony (formerly a mouse) is way over there. Laura won't help

me with this. "These hands might hold you when you're lonely, but some things

you'll have to do for yourself."

Laura's my wife, and high-school sweetheart. That makes me lucky. We've loved

and appreciated each other for many years and (thankfully) have had few cross

words. She's also a beauty, with a special sweetness one can only know by

experience.

"Laura, I've heard of conspiracies, but every single woman on earth? How did we

not know?"

She started to giggle. Her right hand jostled me a bit; she was holding me in

her palm. She brought me up to eye level. Those big, blue eyes. They filled the

sky as I was lifted up beyond the smile that had caused me to fall hopelessly in

love with her as a sophomore. She was 15 then. That was 15 years ago.

"We control all the media now, including the Internet, so I guess you wouldn't

have read all the details. The gas that shrank you was second level. First-level

gas simply kept you from considering certain possibilities. Think back: just

before you became 5 inches tall, you were feeling pretty good, weren't you?"

In fact, I was.

"We had to do that first, so all the women could get the message before the 'Big

Shrink'. Not all the women liked the idea; we knew that would be the case. But

once it started, more than 90 percent got on board. The rest are still

dissatisfied, but most cradle their little men and love them almost as they did

before."

I protested more than a thumbkin should. "But Laura, you never told me WHY!"

She lowered her hand a few feet (inches) and kissed the top half of my body,

very gently.

"I'm sorry, Peanut, but it had to be this way. Big Sister Victoria explained it

to us subliminally more than 2 years ago. She likened it to J.R.R. Tolkein.

Remember the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy?"

I did. "Yes, Laura."

"Then you remember that as the story closed, so began the 'Age of Man.' As of

two years ago, so began the 'Age of Woman'. As hobbits and dwarves were

displaced by mightier beings, so are human males. Big Sister Victoria had it

right: it's just the natural progression of things, accelerated by technology of

course."

"But men developed most of that technology!"

"So they did. And why is that, Peanut? Tell me. Tell me!"

Gentle Laura's fingers were no longer so gentle. They closed around me, and

while I could still breathe, another 1/16th of an inch and Peanut could be in

real trouble.

I stated the obvious: "Because most scientists were men, they controlled most of

the money, and most didn't want women interfering in 'mans' work.'"

She smiled again, relaxed her fingers, letting me drop back into the relative

security of her open palm. She kissed the tip of her left index finger, and

touched both sides of my face with it.

"Good answer. Then along came Big Sister Victoria. You remember her: the

billionairess. She didn't just inherit: She invested. A few years ago, she was

worth...well, Bill Gates might not have been envious but he would have been

impressed. She spent most of her fortune finding and hiring disenfranchised

scientists to do research on what eventually became the Gas."

"How did she get the word to so many of the right people, and none of the rest?"

"Simplest way in the world, Peanut. Women are socialized differently than men.

They talk to one another in circumstances and ways men never would. Women aren't

afraid to share their feelings with other women. They tend not to share all

these things with men, even men they love."

"And this 2-point-5-billion-woman conspiracy actually worked?"

Laura set me down on the table, now towering above me by a mere 35 feet. She Free Games for Mac, Free Games for ipad and Free Games for Iphone, without in app purchases or something like that Free Browser Games

held a hand out to me.

"Take my hand, won't you?"

"You know I'm not nearly big enough to do that!"

"Does that answer your question about the conspiracy, Peanut?"

"Yes, it does, Laura, but you know, my name used to be 'Peter', not 'Peanut.'"

"I remember those days, but your "peter" is now more like a planarian, isn't

it?"

I sighed. "Yes, Miss Laura."

"I like the 'Miss Laura', but I think I'd like it louder. Speak up." Now she

shouted, forgetting what it might do to me.

"SPEAK UP!!"

Laura's giant voice blew me off my feet. Luckily, she had a hand behind me that

caught me as I was thrown back. I fell unconscious into it.

************

The world changed. Boy, did it change. (Maybe I should say: Girl, did it

change.)

With women in complete charge, there was no more war. NO MORE WAR! Big men

always made war: Women didn't think it practical, and any men who still wanted

to wage it, were promptly scooped up by women who were "not of the same hand."

Hard to be a tough guy when a 12-year-old girl has just picked you up and told

you to sing and dance for her before she starts snapping your limbs like

toothpicks.

Violent crime dropped to virtually zero. Women were not pre-disposed to it, and

the men, well, you get the idea. Obviously, there was also no more spouse abuse.

World hunger? Gone! Suddenly half the population didn't need enough food to

matter (my breakfast this morning was one cornflake, served with milk in a

bottle-cap.) The rest of the world food supply was more than enough for

everyone.

The only real shortage was dollhouses, miniature furniture and such. Took a

while for female-run industry to "tool up," but once it did, women who wanted

their "doll-men" to live more comfortably, were able to provide little chairs,

tables and beds. Even a working lavatory was available, complete with bidet.

This was demanded: most women (as did most men) considered thimbles for chamber

pots rather gross.

Child-care was cut in half...only girl babies were full-size. The women took

care of them, of course, while men were responsible for the boys, who at birth

were about an inch long. We got much better at changing diapers.

Laura was always a great persuader. These days her track record was a hundred

percent.

"We control the world now, and it's not the bad world that you men ruled for so

many years. Little tiny Peanut, don't you see that this is the better way? Women

must rule, and men must be the caretakers of boy babies, and do what the women

say. It's just that time in the world."

"Laura, don't you remember, I loved you when you were just a teddy-bear in my

arms!"

"Sure I do! And that makes you one lucky little urchin, doesn't it? Because,

according to the papers, tens of thousands of tiny men have been accidentally

squashed under the high-heeled shoes of women who thought they were just

stepping on clothes. Abused wives have taken matters into their own hands. Still

other women, who couldn't get a date, may now have a date in their purse."

"Are we all to be squashed?"

"Not at all. In fact, we'll need many more of you. Women who are tired of

serving men want some service themselves, and it takes an whole lot of you to

please one of us. But there are plenty of tiny men to do that, and you'll train

your sons to serve our daughters. We'll sit back and make all the decisions as

to how the world will work, and if you please us, we'll do something nice for

you, at OUR pleasure."

"You mean a little boy will be enslaved to a little girl?"

"Not enslaved. He'll be cared for, and protected. Remember that this is the "Age

of the Woman." She'll be taught to treat him very, very gently, as only women

can. When he's in her palm, he'll be quite all right."

"Laura, was this what you had in mind?"

Laura closed her fingers a bit more, to make the point.

"Peanut, this is the way things are and this is the way things will be for the

rest of your life. It's still me, it's still Laura, it's still your girlfriend

and wife, but now it's still your giantess, because every woman is at least a

thousand times bigger than every man."

"Seems to me we did a pretty good job managing the world, girlie."

"Seems to me, you shouldn't talk to me like that."

Laura removed me from her hand, dangling me by my feet upside down, until I

begged her to stop. The tears dripped from my forehead. Laura waited until there

were enough of them on the tabletop to see. This didn't take too long.

"Now I must have obeisance."

As she had taught me, I assumed the position on the table-top, dropping to one

knee, right arm crossing the chest, bowing low.

"I'm sorry, Laura. I was wrong to doubt you, to question your mighty

superiority."

"Peanut, this won't happen again, will it?"

"No, Laura."

Laura smiled as she reached down, pulled my arm from my chest, and effortlessly,

almost playfully, twisted it between her thumb and forefinger. I cried out. She

stopped twisting.

"You've hurt me!"

"Oh, stop. I have not. Your arm will be a little sore for a day or two -- that's

all. I did it to give you a reminder of the consequences of contradicting a

giantess, even one who loves you. But let's have a drink, and forget about it

for now."

Laura poured a cognac into a snifter that would have held me three times over.

She had a sip, then produced a miniature (giant) eyedropper, and drew some of

the potent potable into it. I was held in her left hand, the tip of the enormous

dropper at my lips.

"Drink big, little darling. You need it. It'll ease the pain in your arm."

I hesitated; she was in no mood for this. The tip of her wedding-ring finger

pressed down on my diaphragm, pushing the breath out of me. A few seconds later,

I was gasping, mouth open, until the tip of the dropper found its way in. I

swallowed at least half of it, coughing, but keeping it down.

Laura waited a minute or two, then said, "feeling better?"

I wasn't sure how I was feeling. I could barely talk. I think I managed to say:

"I love...I love...."

I don't know how long I was out. When I awoke, I felt freshly bathed, and my

clothes were different, too. Laura was holding me, cradling me in her hand, the

center of my small world.

"Your chores can wait, Peanut. Tell me again how much you love me," who overcame

obstacles. She'd have to e-mail her agent about this.

Giantess Stories: The Big Sisterhood By Poco    It

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