Sizey Dog

TJ would probably eat a bus. Would just have to tell him it's a dare...or like, promise him there is a prize even if there is none.

a yellow smiley face holding a red rose in its mouth . ALT: a yellow smiley face holding a red rose in its mouth .

micros trekking across desmond's tummy as he sleeps off a huge dinner (paid for by his newest boy toy)

Give him that hair..... tinies must hang off of it or it must wave when he walks..........

#SizeSky idea-

Volleyball game where powerful, athletic, gorgeous women whose curves and musculature glisten with sweat in the sunlight . . . and you're using your psychic powers to maintain a barrier just to be the ball. The only thing keeping you focused is the promise of what will happen later.

Merry Christm-ass, little santafox~ 🍑

awaiting tongue

Evil fucked up macros doing evil fucked up things to tiny people

Tears dance across the edges of your vision. They flow in rivulets down your cheek, slowly wicked away by the displacing air. It feels strangely...good, a meager way to relieve your despair in the face of the inevitable.

You look up to the sky and watch as the world collapses.

The time-dilated descent of a kind, nerdy boy's rear prolonging its encroaching impact upon the worn cushions of a library chair.

You've tried screaming. Your words do not travel past the seat.

You've tried running. You collapse long before you escape the looming shadow.

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Your last moments spent watching the outside world through the translucent prison of a sweat drop as it meanders down the length of your partner’s neck. You thrash and writhe within its bitter embrace. You were so, so close. To rescue. To help. If you could only break through...

I will never not sing the praises of DiDi's work, but the joy that's come with every update on this (and the previous comics) has just been unreal. Both from the obvious, but also admiring the craft in making "woman walks upstairs" a gorgeous panel.

Just fantastic on all counts. Go appreciate her.

Mad as a March Hare.🐇

Panel 1, Bubblebun is stomping through the forest, leaving footprints in the trees as she walks through. Panel 2, Jolla the koala is laying inside her stomach and relaxing.

Commission for @lil-kwala.bsky.social! Always nice for Bubblebun to have someone hanging out with her, even if in... unorthodox ways.

MESS*

whatever

Someone chewing food in their mouth while a micro is thrown about in the gnashing and inevitably thrown down the gullet with the newly-mushed meds

On the other hand imagine living in a world with macros where getting your car buried in cum is as common as it getting snowed in during winter

Warmup for @punypunymouse.bsky.social

No funny business in Dex's house!

#SizeSky idea-

Glove entrapment was really fun conceptually, when you pictured elegant cloth gloves and tried to wind up on the fingers of your maid or chauffeur.

Winding up on your gardener's rough hands and getting almost crushed with every plucked weed was not what you expected.

I don't 👁️👁️

your view of me tho tbh. actually ridiculous, how do you get anything done?

This Is real, this happens in canto 7

There are few things hotter than the remains of a once prosperous civilization being lazily wiped away on someone's welcome mat. The countless stories, relationships, and architectural achievements lost among the mud-stained fibers and loose grit.

He closes the door without looking back.

Smothered against a mass of moist flesh, the thick, acrid smell of your surroundings diluted and mixed with the scent of chewed gum and coffee. It drags you across stubble and sweat, leaving a viscous trail in its wake.

Your taste goes unnoticed as he laps at his partner's pit.

Displaced air is wonderful for conveying a difference in scale.

A rear descending from on-high that causes the very air to shift to accommodate the plummeting mass—kicking up currents that push you to your knees long before the mountain of fabric and flesh makes contact.

(Ramble)

Thrown airborne alongside an avalanche of dust and crumbs as a worker hastily sweeps the restaurant floor, you land painfully in a growing pile of grit, inches away from a loose hair thicker than your body.

The dustpan looms nearby...you'd soon line the bottom of a trash can.

A sneaker slowly rising as an unseen giant—face blurred and obscured in the sky far, far above—begins the motion of another step. Air rushing in to fill the gap the shoe once occupied, sweeping up anything that had survived the initial impact and pushing it towards the newfound footprint.

It rises unimpeded, and the sudden change of pressure almost throws them to their stomach. Dirt loosened from its tread rains down from on high, motes larger than their body crashing like an avalanche in the distance.

They force themselves to move. The tears still come.

A wizard's familiar reduced to a blushing, frazzled mess as their master crouches to retrieve a tome on the shelf just above them. They try to look away as the silken fabrics of his robe press against the wide curves of his rear, yet the sight dominates the sky above them...

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A tiny looking on in horror as a sneaker the size of a cruise ship crashes upon the stragglers of their traveling party, kicking up winds so fierce they're forced to shield their eyes. Loose laces sprawl hapazardly across the earth, burying another beneath the dirty fibers.
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