Tl;Dr: It’s okay if your brain and body want sex when you are stressed. It’s okay if they want it less. Both are normal—even during a pandemic and an uprising. There’s science to prove it. Research also shows that big feelings (like fear of getting sick, or anger at injustice) can be processed and released before they do lasting harm to you or your life. I share excerpts from Emily Nagoski’s book Come As You Are and two others to show how we might be able to use kink to do the same thing.
(This article contains mentions of the pandemic, police brutality, racism, violence, murder, assault, AIDS, PTSD, depression, anxiety, and trauma responses. It also covers topics ranging from BDSM and impact play, to polyamory, to microphilia/macrophilia, and covers size dysmorphia and kink-related fantasies.)
I didn’t expect that it would take a pandemic and a racial justice uprising for me to finally sit down and write a review about a phenomenal book on sex research for my kink blog. Here’s the reason I hope you’ll read this. People are having huge emotional responses that they don’t have the space or tools to fully process; they are also judging others/feeling ashamed for not wanting sex right now, while others are having the same response to those who do want sex right now. Research shows sex desire can decrease for some and increase for others during times of great stress, and that both are normal and healthy. Sex-positive spaces like #SizeTwitter should make space for both responses, and might already be able to provide tools to help process big emotions.
Portrait of Elle Largesse by the talented DTV_art, https://twitter.com/dtv_art
Last weekend I reached 700 followers as @mightytinygiant on Twitter, and have decided to celebrate by sharing two things that are important to me. After nearly half a year on hiatus to heal from depression, it’s good to be back. I’m grateful for all the support I’ve received and the messages urging me to take care of myself. The writer is worth more than what they write.
The first thing I’m thrilled to share is this gorgeous portrait of me by the talented and friendly DTV_art. I have admired her work for years, since I first laid eyes on her Tumblr treasure trove of lovely queer Giantess girlfriends and sizeshifter boyfriends and so many gorgeous Giant/tiny moments. Trust me, she is so incrediblyskilled and talented and awesome and her work is queer-friendly and romantic AF. I am humbled by the way she took my photograph and translated me into my most femme-tastic witchy woman sizeshifter self. As of this writing, she is still open for commissions!
The second celebratory tidbit I’m sharing with you lovely folks today is one of my favorite pieces of writing, first shared on Tumblr, January 12, 2016. I was struggling then with depression and size dysmorphia, just like I have been this year. I have made huge strides this summer with therapy—thank the Gods for sex-positive, kink-positive, polyam-friendly therapy—and for insurance to help me afford it. More people should have access to that kind of healing.
That support has given me the hope I needed to delve into my feelings about my body and my writing. I’ve been revisiting what I love most about what I’ve written. I’ve been working on befriending my body and accepting that the way she feels large or small may actually be healthy for me, even if it’s not a thing people commonly feel. Commissioning a portrait of myself as a new avatar is part of that work, and I’m grateful for DTV working with me to get it right.
It’s okay to feel small. It’s okay to feel large. It’s okay to take up whatever space you need to take up, in this world. I need this reminder now, as much as I ever have. Maybe you do, too.
Sometimes when you grow, you’re scared of ruining your clothes or destroying your favorite pair of shoes. Sometimes you’re just scared of how they constrict you, how a necklace could choke you or a beloved coat could trap you like a straight-jacket. But not always.
Sometimes when you grow, shredding through your layers of fabric and fashion feels better than breaking a chain with your bare hands. You’re no longer made for the world of thrift shop jeans or business casual blouses. You can stop worrying if it looks wrong. It belongs to the person you used to be when you still apologized for taking up space.
Small wonder, then, when you stretch your shoulders just to feel the seams tear. When you breathe deeply so the hooks on your bra unbend themselves, unable to hold the glory of your breasts as they grow in size, weight, and consequence. You roll your hips and savor the shredding sound of that pencil skirt you used to love, which has been too small for far too long. It slips to the ground like a memory, followed quickly by the remains of your panties. The lace surrendered by unknitting itself. It wasn’t up to the task of containing the beauty of your other massive assets.
Tearing through the leather on your high heels seems almost obscene, but deep down you offer it like a sacrifice. Your bare feet fill the ground with presence. The crown of your head lifts above the crowd where you walked alone in your smallness.
You feel your own beauty as you never have before. With awe and gratitude and no regrets. You see the world differently and know yourself fully as you grow in all directions, pushing outward, but especially upward.
You have every right to stand tall no matter your size. Breathe deeply in the body that bears your heart, and never apologize again.
Content warnings: some NSFW artwork and language, discussion of body dysmorphic disorder, gender dysphoria, grief, gun violence, depression, neurodivergence, kink, microphilia, macrophilia, and shame
Introduction: arguments with my body
It will come as no surprise to you that I’m sitting at a table in a chair with my feet on the ground, while my hands type comfortably on a laptop. You—and most of the people who know and love me—might be intrigued to know that my senses also tell me I can lift my hand and touch the ceiling with no trouble, because it’s dangerously close to brushing my head.
Would you like me to open the front door, fifteen feet away? It’s within easy reach. Or, at least, that’s the argument my body makes.
My senses agree I’m sitting at the table in the usual way, but they also feed me contradictory information about the walls seeming to close in around me, about how there’s no space for my knees and legs between the table and the wall, no way this chair should be able to support my weight, and no way that my fingers could possibly type on a laptop that feels like a toy for a doll.
If I close my eyes, the sensation intensifies and logic takes a backseat to a kinesthetic awareness of overwhelming size. Some days I feel overwhelming smallness instead, as if everything is huge and heavy and beyond my isolated reach.
Luckily for me, if I open my eyes again, I’m able to use the visual information to combat the strange, contradictory physical information. I concentrate on the evidence of my eyes and wage a war against my kinesthetic senses—the same kind of battle I’ve been fighting quietly since childhood.
In some circles, this experience is known as size dysmorphia: a sense that your body’s size feels larger or smaller than you know it to be.
I know that I stand five feet, two inches tall. I know that my body does not change in size. And yet, it’s as if some ancient part of my brain and body refuse to completely accept this data.
Sometimes it happens without warning, like a radio shifting channels and offering music and static from two different stations. Sometimes I go for days without noticing anything unusual, my broadcast uninterrupted on a steady playlist of “five-foot-two” with no interruptions.
When I feel a sizeshift coming on, sometimes I groan inwardly and grit my teeth. Other times, I try to induce the feeling myself, just for the sheer joy and arousal and exhilaration of it. Few sensations are as empowering as a sense that you stand twice as tall as everyone around you.
Until about three years ago, I refused to tell anyone.
Commissioned Portrait of Elle by Karasu69 (https://twitter.com/EdNEm3)
Call me Elle Largesse. I’m a sizshifting bisexual polyamorous kinky erotica writer who made my presence known to the “Giant/tiny” community on Tumblr in December of 2015. That community became the safe haven that helped me cope with size dysmorphia, embrace my sexuality, and find new multitudes within myself.
Three years and ten days after beginning this experiment in sensuality, I created this privately hosted website to continue the conversation and share my work on my own terms, with less threat of censorship.
This blog is mostly NSFW / 18 & up only. You’ll find original writing and collages, and occasional RP. Topics covered include shrinking and growth, microphilia and macrophilia.
My name is Elle and my pronouns are she/her. I’m fine with Ms. Elle, Mistress Elle, etc. but please DO NOT CALL ME GODDESS. Ask before you assume my size.
I have a thing for licking, lips, insertion, breast expansion, and obscenely large cocks. I like very softcore “pre-vore” like tongue and mouth play, and that’s about it. I’m not into hardcore violence but I have complex feelings about nonconsensual acts and a bit of a crush on butt crushes. Beware the puns.
All content and characters depicted on this blog are 18 & up and do not belong to me unless specifically noted. I’m happy to take down content at artist’s request.
Commissioned Portrait of Elle by the ever amazing illustrator Karasu69.
Avatar & header by hyperrealist painter Kim Sung Jin.
Website hosting assistance from the wonderful Kreeyz.
ADULT CONTENT WARNING
This site includes content intended for adults only. Depending on your location, you must be at least 18 or 21 to enter. If you’re under 18 and are seeking sex positive resources, stop reading now and visit scarleteen.com.
