“In the beginning God created the heavens and the Earth.” Genesis 1:1
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Dissecting the title “My Blue Heaven” is pretty simple. “Heaven” is obviously synonymous with “perfection” and being that it's called My Heaven, it can be concluded that this heaven is personal. Subjective perfection, the only perfection that we mortal beings can experience. But where does the “Blue” fit in? According to the prompt, “My Blue Heaven” represents the perfect day. Blue is an odd color to use, especially when gold and diamond are associated with value than blue.
I took a short ten hour car trip to the Texas State Aquarium last week, only 700 miles from where I live. It’s honestly breathtaking when you live in a desert like I do. There’s a whole world underneath us, life by the trillions just swimming around the still water, darting around reefs, or crawling along the ocean floor. And until you go deeper, it's blue. An endless blue, as far as the eye can see. The water on our planet has labeled us “The Blue Planet”, even with Uranus and Neptune being much bluer than us. That water, teeming with life, a pure unfiltered excess of life. This life that out numbers the life above by not even a close margin. All living in an endless blue.
So what is your “Blue Heaven”? Blue is life, the life so unique to Earth, more so than any other planet that we know of. “My Blue Heaven” is “Heaven on Earth.”
I’m sorry for the pointless tangent. The truth is that I thought long and hard about what “My Blue Heaven” would be. By all means this is a disqualified entry, given that it completely misses the mark of “Flash Fiction”. However, even so I ask you to continue reading.
I don’t have a “Blue Heaven”. Sure, I could revert back to my days as a teenager in highschool where I write smut about the fictional girls in cartoons and TV shows, or the creepy stories where I write out my fantasies with my classmates starring as unaware muses and models. But no, I don’t need to add layers to my superficial heaven.
The concept of “Blue Heaven” is a trap. I’m not religious at all, but the words “Heaven on Earth” are a contradiction. Our earthly desires are more often than not an opposition to true Heaven. Me picturing out my “Blue Heaven” would be nothing more than a distraction from reality.
That’s not to say I don’t want size related situations to not be a reality, of course I do. I would love to be shrunken down with my girlfriend towering above me like a goddess, my wife sending me down to her stomach for me to respawn and do it all over again. However, it's hard to know what I really want.
I have no girlfriend to fawn over. I have no wife to cherish. I have no crushes to set my heart racing whenever they take a glance at me. And that’s my problem as a writer, a creator.
I could write a story where I have someone, I could write a story where I didn’t make the mistakes I have. I could create the perfect girl, the perfect world, the perfect sexual encounter. I could be eaten, sat on, inserted, crushed, smothered, played with, I could write anything. I could write more Blue Heaven’s than anyone could ever prepare for. Heaven on Earth could be my domain...but it wouldn’t be though, would it?
My imagination goes crazy. But to be able to write, to be able to make anything possible in my writing comes as a curse. It’s a trap, it always was one. I never talked to those girls I fantasized about in highschool. My writing became delusion, delusion that I knew them, but in reality I’ve never even known their favorite food or their birthday. “My Blue Heaven” came with its own balance. To imagine perfection only to come back to reality.
That endless blue isn’t truly endless. When you go down deep enough it becomes pitch black. It’s said that our own ocean is harder to explore than space, and that's not unbelievable. In those depths, that's where my mind meets the section between earth and my own heaven. To say “meets” is wrong actually. It’s where reality and those dark monsters swallow up (lol) my heaven. There is no light in the pitch black abyss of my mind, there is nothing even worthy of being related to heaven down there.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall. The harder I try to swim up to that endless blue, these unknown, scary monsters drag me down even farther. My fantasies are faceless. My heart is empty. My superficial Heaven calls to me, only to push me back down to Earth, the real Earth.
But wait…
...is that so bad?
They’re just stories aren’t they? What harm could a little imagination do?
I love the size community and the stories are one of my favorite mediums. My vivid imagination lets me live out these experiences as much as I’m willing to imagine a setting. Sure, it sucks that it's not real, but what matters is that you imagined and “lived” through it, right?
I joined a writer to primarily write stuff for Felarya. I loved how sexy it was, a world where pretty much clothes are optional, you never aged, and all the women wanted to eat people whole 24/7. My personal favorite writer went by FrenchSnack at the time and if I'm correct he's an admin on the Deviant Art page. I submitted some failed attempts at storytelling myself to the community and honestly, the writing screams in 15-year-old. Then after delving into vore I acquired a strong foot fetish and started writing stories for that as well. I love these stories as bad as they are. I have some stories about Supergirl, Overwatch, Disney girls, my drum major (creepy 16 year-old-here). I was in a good mood. I even did some collages on some model girls. I was enjoying the content, not thinking at all about the abyss that torments me today. And I realize it now as I write this in my local Starbucks. I realize my Blue Heaven.
I’m sitting in my room, by myself. It’s nighttime. There is a light rain. There is no chance of me being disturbed. I’m at my desk. A mix of Lofi Hip Hop and Gorillaz plays softly through my portable speaker. In front of me is a word document, empty. I’m sitting down, thinking.
Who? Who will I write about today? Who do I want to crush me, smother me, eat me?
Perfection. I had it. My Blue Heaven was a reality. I already had it. I had no one but my imagination. But unlike now, my imagination was more than enough. I was writing because it made me happy, not because of the clout that I desire now.
What happened to me, I wonder? Probably my competitiveness, Overwatch and Smash Bros. most likely. The things I tell myself I enjoy, that desire to become the best and only acknowledge myself when I prove myself worthy of happiness through winning and success. NGL, not an epic gamer moment.
I’m happy right now though, that competitiveness has its upsides as well. After all I wouldn’t be participating in Size Riot if it wasn’t a competition. I’m happy when I write for a reason, write out a story that people enjoy (albeit this ain’t it chief). So guess what everyone? I’ve won! All you can do is imagine your perfect situation but here I am, living it out! I don’t need anyone, I don’t need a girlfriend, a wife, a crush! I have my love to write and that's all I need!
My Blue Heaven, my Heaven on Earth is right here. My laptop, my headphones, and my head. It doesn't matter that it’s not real because it’s not the size stuff I love the most! It’s the ability for me to let you read something sexy, the ability create a world that emerses others into my desires, to trap you all in a story that is compelling and erotic at the same time. It’s a competition against all of you, to make you completely mine. To make you all my little puppets on a stage that you don’t want to leave.
My words make me a god and my readers are my subjects. I’m so glad that this was the prompt, it’s turned into a window inside my mind, and truthfully, it’s been extremely therapeutic. Expect much more from me than just a Size Riot entry every 3 months. Thank you for reading!
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“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good....” Genesis 1:31