“Being lost in the folds of a submissive woman’s labia, her domme lover not believing any part of this ‘shrinking friend’ story. Then the discipline starts. Hot damn, that’s hot.”
I’m proud to share “The Therapist Will See You Now,” my entry for the Cruel January 2019 SizeRiot Erotica Contest, hosted by the hardworking and talented Aborigen-gts. The story tied for second place in the “Most Arousing” category.
I appreciate the feedback I received for this story, which was not as cruel as I originally intended to make it. As always, I’m deeply grateful to my beta readers and everyone who read my work and reviewed it.
What did people enjoy most about this story? Here’s what the readers had to say:
A story that manages to be playful, in-your-face, and casual in its sexiness.
Being lost in the folds of a submissive woman’s labia, her domme lover not believing any part of this “shrinking friend” story. Then the discipline starts. Hot damn, that’s hot.
A domme using a strap-on on your girlfriend while you’re trapped at ground zero? Speaks for itself.
The entire setup was just so sexy. I loved the unaware aspect. The desperate shrinking. Really well done.
Best Main Character:
Dr. Rodriguez was well-developed. Her smallest reactions spoke volumes about her personality, which was both intimidating and attractive. I would love to see more of her in action.
Dr. Rodriguez had such a strong and commanding personality. Very good and dominant.
Interesting Size Difference:
it was a great use of unaware and micro scenarios. The dominant giantess was not even aware of the tiny, nor would she seem to care if she knew. The tiny was truly insignificant to the others.
The characters were dynamic. It was sexy. The set up was unique.
More by This Author:
Such a strong solid take on extreme sizes with immediately grabbing and developed characters.
If I could commission an image to be made from a single scene from any of the stories in this entire contest, it would be the silhouette of Mark looking out from Beth’s labia up at the smirking scrutiny of Dr. Rodriguez.
You get the specialest of props for incorporating actual BDSM themes into size works, extra special for combining them with a tight cast of extremely colorful interesting characters. Also, hot giga epic cruelty. A+.
Ready for more? I added 600+ words back into the story after submission. You have two options to enjoy:
TEXT VERSION: Read the full story behind the cut.
The Therapist Will See You Now
By Elle Largesse
Copyright 2019, all rights reserved.
Submission for SizeRiot’s Cruel January 2019 Erotica Contest
Content warnings: Themes include microphilia/shrinking, BSDM, ethical nonmonogamy, spanking, unaware, nonconsensual, and insertion
Disclaimer: This short story is intended for mature audiences. If you’re under 18 and are seeking sex positive resources, stop now and visit scarleteen.com. All characters depicted are above the age of 18 and exist only in fiction.
Seconds after the door closed on her last and most difficult patient for the day, Dr. Penelope Rodriguez unlocked her phone and opened her notifications like an addict jonesing for her next hit. It wasn’t the phone that drew her, or even the notification or the message waiting from her favorite submissive, Beth, who was currently in training to become a Dom in her own right. No, Penny was drawn to the certainty that she’d have real power tonight.
After all day—all week—listening to people’s convoluted problems and counseling them on boundaries, consent, and healthy relationships, she was ready for someone to finally fucking obey her. She was ready to punish the real and imagined transgressions of that sexy little twenty-something brat.
Penny’s grin faded. Her nails dug into the meat of her palms as she read Beth’s message canceling their longstanding Friday night “training” session. “Mistress, forgive me. My oldest friend showed up at my place asking for help. He’s a mess. May I ask permission to comfort him tonight, and reschedule until tomorrow?”
“Permission granted,” Penny typed slowly, gritting her teeth. “I’d better not hear that you were using your training improperly,” she wrote back, knowing Beth had struggled with the temptation to dominate someone before she was ready.
It went beyond that, Penny knew. The phrase “comfort him” left her with a sick sense of jealousy unbecoming of a Dominant with her training and experience. Then again, as she’d explained to her final patient that day, jealousy happened to everyone. And there were other ways to get her needs met.
Three hours and a large bottle of wine later, Penny’s quiet evening at home had earned her an angry red watercolor painting and two unsatisfying almost-orgasms.
The text that interrupted her second “orgasm” came with a different kind of rush. She wasn’t even angry. Note to self, she thought. Mustn’t get addicted to my own submissive. She opened the message and couldn’t stop the flow of happy brain chemicals from flooding in. “Mistress, I need your help. Can I come over?”
Beth had changed her mind, after all. Penny wondered if she’d staged the cancellation as a way to get an especially bad punishment tonight. After six months of scenes together, building intimate trust and layers of boundaries, Penny had no doubts in her mind about what Beth would want tonight–which, of course, would take a back seat to what Penny herself wanted. Penny wanted revenge.
Dr. Penelope Rodriguez flung herself toward her closet and her extensive collection of BDSM play gear with less than dignified excitement and began making selections. By the time the doorbell rang, none of her patients would have recognized the fierce and intimidating woman with red corset over an hourglass figure, patent leather boots, fishnets, and miniskirt.
Beth barely noticed any of it.
She pushed through the door, seemingly in a panic. “Mistress, thank God.” Her face and skin were icy cold as she pressed into Penny’s bosom, wrapping her arms around her corset and shuddering with relief. “You’re not going to believe me,” she was saying. “But you’re the only one I could trust.”
Penny wobbled on her heels but held her younger protégé, surprised by the depth of reaction. “No hat, no gloves. You cancel on me, then show up with barely any warning. What’s the crisis?” She looked over Beth’s shoulder into the snowy twilight. “No friend, either?” She couldn’t help but smirk a little at the evidence that the friend had been part of the story.
Beth looked up at her miserably. “He’s here with me, actually. I… I lost him.”
Penny narrowed her eyes, her back stiffening. “You brought your friend to my house?” She released the young woman to look outside, then shut the door against the cold and any prying eyes.
“I wouldn’t! I mean, I would never, normally! But I had to. Because, you see… we… He just went through a rough day and was so lonely and he started behaving like a sub and I got a rush from caring for him, making him take care of himself…”
Penny gasped, genuinely shocked. “You disobeyed me.” Her voice went cold. Beth had been bratty and disobedient in many ways before, but always within a scene. This was a whole new level. Was she already in scene, then? It was their regular Friday night session, after all.
Beth’s eyes went wide at the accusation and she went to her knees immediately. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I crossed a line.”
“You know the irony? I thought you were almost ready to attempt a supervised scene as a Dom. Clearly I was mistaken. I thought you could be trusted to respect the importance of seeking consent from a person–if what you’re saying is true, your friend was in no position to consent to what you did to him.” Penny frowned. “What did you do to him, anyway? You didn’t leave him somewhere, did you?”
Beth shook her head, then bowed it in shame. “Punish me however you want, but I need your help first. Something happened while he was in subspace. He got… smaller. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Penny frowned and tried to make sense of it. He got smaller? She herself had experienced the way a person’s identity could shrink when they found new levels of submissiveness. She preferred the way she felt big as a Dominant, the way she claimed her own her space as the biggest, baddest bitch in the room.
Or maybe this was Beth’s way of introducing a new fantasy? They knew each other well enough by now to enjoy scenes without always needing to negotiate first. And she hadn’t used their safe word yet, the way she’d been trained to during a genuine crisis.
Penny faltered at that thought, second-guessing herself. Had she used the safeword? Penny normally didn’t play while under the influence, but she didn’t feel more than a little buzzed from the wine. Her judgement was fine. And besides, Beth needed her.
“Mistress, I was an idiot,” Beth was continuing. “I know I should have stopped there. But you know how the power trip feels! How hard it is to stop. I made a mistake. He wanted to take things further, even though he was small. I’ve never seen a man so aroused. Or so small.”
Penny wasn’t sure which irritated her more, her own irrational jealousy, or Beth for making up this ludicrous story.
“If you wanted me to punish you, you could have just asked,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I love theatrics as much as the next diva, but don’t you think this is a bit elaborate?” She struggled to maintain her composure. She was either about to laugh in the poor fool’s face or punish her so hard that she’d be out of the game for weeks.
“Mistress, you don’t understand.” Beth shook her head. “This is not a joke. I really, genuinely need your help.” She bit her lip. “I lost him… inside me.”
Penny glared at her. “I’ll help you,” she said, playing along. “After all, this is my fault. I was too lenient with you. Into the bedroom, now. Pull down your panties and bend over the spanking bench.”
Beth felt almost high with relief as she sank gratefully down over the familiar spanking bench. All the weight of her terror for her friend Mark sank down with her. She was heavy with regret and shame at having failed two of the most important people in her life. But her Mistress would fix this. She could trust her Mistress to find her friend.
She craved punishment, too. Something sharp and painful that would tear away the shame and leave her raw and chastened and lighter and free from this weight. She didn’t deserve it, but she wanted it anyway. Please find him. Please. And please punish me for fucking up this badly.
Her body was already responding to the scent of the leather. She lifted up her hips, reached between her legs, and with two careful fingers she pushed open her pussy to let in a little pocket of air. She inspected her fingertips with all the intensity of a human microscope, but found no sign of him. How small was he? Had she given him enough air? Had she hurt him? How was this nightmare even possible?
Hang in there, Mark. Wherever you are.
Miles away, and yet only millimeters from the immensity of Beth’s fingertips, Mark struggled to free himself from the weight of his best friend’s labia minora. He was still shrinking, but at least he was no longer swimming through the strange underwater crevasses filled with pussy juices—and the lubricant Beth had coated him with when he was still six inches tall. He wasn’t gasping for little pockets of stale air. And he was almost free. Then it was only about half a mile to hike and climb upwards to the clitoris, the only place he might get Beth’s attention.
A surge of light drenched him as he pulled free from the pressing weight of the sweat-slick labia. Each crinkly pink fold loomed larger than a tidal wave, and required serious straining to budge.
He looked up at the strange, distant, and distorted world revealed to him and realized Beth wasn’t wearing her panties. It took him a long moment to understand that she was presenting herself to someone.
That someone approached like continental drift, immense beyond understanding. Diamond shapes formed themselves into fishnet stockings. Legs. Mark craned his head back so far that he slipped and fell backward onto the slick pink labia. Juices formed a light suction along his back and buttocks, holding him in place as he squinted upward.
A face approached, like a mountain monument carved from stone. His brain practically folded in on itself as he made sense of the features exponentially larger than his own. He gasped.
Beth was baring her most intimate parts… to Dr. Rodriguez. His therapist.
Mark was dumbstruck. He felt more naked than he’d ever felt in his life as Dr. Rodriguez scrutinized Beth’s vulva.
Hours ago he’d left her office in humbled tears, desperate for comfort. Beth had offered him that comfort even when he’d faced a sense of smallness that pushed his actual body to dwindle in size. She’d celebrated it with him. And now…
Now it took all he had not to dive between the folds of his friend’s pussy to hide from those eyes. He should have waved his arms like a castaway on a beach trying to flag down a rescue plane. He should have screamed. He just watched as the mountainous face smirked… drunkenly? She soared away.
If Dr. Rodriguez moved like a drunken drifting continent, then he was in no way prepared for the earthquake. SMACK. Ripples of flesh undulated under him and around him. Whipcords of leather lightning flashed above him like an electrocuted kraken. SMACK. Far away and close, close by, he could hear and feel Beth shriek. His own panicked scream drowned in it. SMACK.
“STOP!” he screamed, as the leather strips whipped his enormous friend and sent moans pulsing through her body. SMACK. Beth bucked and fought, sending him sliding down the shifting undulations of the vulva. Down toward Beth’s enormous cunt.
He caught his hands on a crinkle of flesh and prayed. “STOP! Please! Please, Beth! Doctor! PLEASE!”
Something broke within him, then. In the midst of the earthquake he felt something shift in his body. A red-hot shift in certainty. Nobody would save him, and the fracture that he felt in his heart was worse than anything he’d felt before with Dr. Rodriguez or crying on his friend’s couch. It was worse than that moment today, when he was desperate and alone in his car with his cell phone, telling himself not to send the message to Beth, “Please help. I need you.” He’d sent it. He’d driven to her home. Reaching out to her and showing that weakness had been even harder than showing up to the therapy session in the first place. He’d felt brave for doing something finally, at long last. He’d been certain it was bravery.
SMACK. “Please,” he sobbed, his hands sliding down the stretchy slick flesh. He wasn’t pleading with the violence above him. “Please, stop,” he said more quietly. The certainty choked him, but words fell from his mouth like the last exhalations of hope. “I’ll do better! You were right, I was wrong!”
SMACK. His best friend’s ass rose and fell, an earthquake, a tsunami, unstoppable and unconcerned with him. He could feel her heartbeat throbbing through her skin. Her hurricane moans drowned out the words of his revelation.
“I was wrong, Dr. Rodriguez, I’m sorry!” He coughed out sobs and clung to her labia as the assault cracked thunderously against Beth’s skin. SMACK.
“I’ll do better. I promise, please! Not for anyone but me.” Not knowing why, only knowing it was necessary, he let go.
He slid slowly down the slope of the flesh as it bucked up and down. And for the first time in this ordeal, Mark felt his body begin to expand.
He cried out in surprise as he slid, looking at his hands with elation. A new certainty warmed him with purpose. If he could grow, he could fix this. Nobody was coming to rescue him, so he’d better do it himself.
He reached out an arm and easily caught the edge of the labia minora that he’d clung to a moment before. It felt as if it were shrinking under his growing hands. In moments he was able to wrap his hand around it and haul himself upward, away from the wet suction sounds of Beth’s massive pussy.
He looked ahead, holding onto his certainty like a guiding light. Beth’s clit already looked closer, a mere football field away. He struggled to his feet and began the climb to that throbbing round mountain peak, pausing to brace himself between each walloping SMACK.
Beth slowly stopped fighting as he climbed. Ominous moans pulsed powerfully through her skin.
He was exhausted but nearly a centimeter tall when he finally touched the hood of Beth’s clitoris. She jerked, an aftershock of surprise. He didn’t have time to be gentle, but shoved the hood back and spanked her clit hard. Above him, the monstrous whip had gone still but he smacked again for all he was worth. His immense best friend cried out, moaning words he couldn’t hope to understand. Hope burned fiercely in him and he felt himself grow with triumph as he raised his hand for another solid smack.
A clear, cold liquid splashed down onto him like a thick, viscous waterfall, unexpected and unwelcome. It tasted like the lubricant Beth had coated him with before, and Mark coughed and looked up with dread, wiping the syrupy mess from his eyes.
Far beyond him, Dr. Rodriguez pulled two black straps tightly at her hips. Disturbingly close, the round knob of a bright red sex toy bobbed up and down like a breaching submarine.
He was about to be fucked into his best friend by his own therapist.
Mark gave up on trying to signal Beth, who raised her hips and dropped them. More moans. She was hungry for this, and he was alone again.
His certainty and hope had been like a warm light helping him grow and fight for survival, but it disappeared completely at this last painful betrayal. He sank to his knees in the juices and musk and felt his body shift again. Smaller.
He clung to Beth’s round clitoris like a boulder in a storm as sobs seized his uncertain body. Dr. Rodriguez’s strap-on descended on him as if he were an enemy to be fucked into submission. “Please,” he whispered, as the reach of his arms shrank too small to hold onto his friend.
He slid lower, shrinking, knowing he should fill his lungs again as he faced the monster.
“Please?” he asked, instead.