This story was inspired by talking with my parents some time ago. I wanted to know whether my transformation into a "fetishist" was really as spontaneous as they thought. They soon remembered that, yes, there was a time that I was obsessed with things that might've contributed to my current mental state. One thing they recall vividly was my obsession with size, volume, and air pressure. I liked anything that could change the size of things, or at least appear to do so, and would test them on anything I could get my hands on. They had to take things away from me for my curiosity, so I got even more curious.

My curiosity led to me dreaming of tools that could make things grow, and I would always tell these dreams to my grandfather, who told me that he could make things grow, too. His garden was always filled with giant vegetables, and the man himself was impressive in physique even for his advanced age. He'd always excite and amuse me by blowing into his thumb and making his bicep "grow" by flexing it. I'd hate to think that he was partially responsible for my current weirdness, since he was a respectable figure in our family regardless of his own oddities, and he will truly be missed, since he died shortly before my 15th birthday.

This then is a tribute to him, in the form of a fictionalized version of my life as a kid. I've left the species purposely vague, since I couldn't imagine a giant elderly human very well, but a dog or a wolf more vividly. Imagine what you will, but don't think of this as some weird Freudian thing, whatever you do. I've already had enough problems in real life trying to explain myself. Oh, if only my grandpa were still around; he'd laugh at my stories as if they were merely funny cartoons instead of the pseudo-sexual power fantasies they've become under my hands. Then again, mother insists that perhaps grandpa had some fantasies of his own...