So I saw this here, and I knew I had to make my own version…
Image source: ArcticGiantess
This post is proximally in reply to this comment by Aborigen, but it obviously is the result of many years of observation, rumination, self-recrimination, and determination. I cannot emphasize enough that these are my personal feelings and experiences, and the last thing I want is to assert that they are somehow generally representative of even most hetmale size fantasists, let alone everyone in the community. To be frank, this is more of a personal journal entry than a public comment, but over the years I have seen and heard things that resonate with my thoughts on these subjects, and so I’m going to digress all over the place in the hope that it might help someone somewhere deal with their own feelings and experiences.
Underneath the dresser, the outlet plate slowly opened like a door. Out of decades of habit, Bolt waited and listened, then peeked around the open edge of the plate and scanned the floor of the room, starting with the human-sized door to his right, past the bed with its head against the opposite wall, to the desk under the window to his left, then back to the door.
Bolt had had the house to himself for over a month, but he hadn’t outlived the rest of his family by being reckless. Even stepping out onto the hardwood floor, he moved slowly and listened intently before returning the plate against the wall. Years ago, he would have thrown the infinitesimal switch that his father had shown him how to install, making the outlet live again should any humans try to use it while he was out.
The O’Tooles had probably been about average as human hosts go. Two kids, a dog at first, a cat when it was just Jeannette. Old Man Gordon hadn’t been the handiest man, and he had rarely poked into any of the nooks and crannies where Bolt’s family made their home.