Kinky Scribble installment six! If you’re here for the sexy times, skip to the “read more.” Otherwise, continue below for my update on other writers taking the challenge, and to read my own writerly pep-talk.
Scribble me some kink
A Kinky Scribble is a flash-fiction writing exercise idea I’ve been developing since January 2020, as a tool to break past my anxieties as a writer. Read my past Kinky Scribbles and search the #KinkyScribble tag itself on Twitter. The strategy is to produce creative content in a short amount of time, give it minimal edits, and then release it into the wild for others to enjoy. My goals are to practice my fiction-writing skills, to produce more content while still reconnecting with the parts of writing I enjoy most, and to re-calibrate my sense of when something is “done enough” to share.
I’ve been thrilled to see other creatives joining in! Remember, this isn’t just limited to writing—my original idea was inspired by watching artists I respect share sketches and scribbles in addition to their more polished content. I wished so badly that I could do the same, instead of letting my longer projects collect dust on my drive, getting more and more out-of-step with my current writing style. Kinky Scribbles has been a way for me to emulate those artists, instead of just envying them. I suspect that this kind of strategy could work well for a variety of creative endeavors.
Check out these nine stories from talented writers (in alphabetical order):
- Chuck Murnoe: Get Right or Get Shrunk
- Freepassunlimited: two scribbles about snow days, here and here
- HThereBeG1: Lift Me Up, Raise Me Gently
- Pseudoclever: Megrims, and You and Me
- Undersquid: Pupil, and A Soft Home
Pseudoclever, who was generous enough to volunteer his time to beta-read this particular scribble, frames it like this: “#KinkyScribble is SUCH a good idea when you’re feeling stuck.” As Freepass says, a Kinky Scribble is “an inspiration to ignore your negative voices and just write!”
If you do join in, don’t feel obliged to follow my same format of listing my word count and writing/editing times. It’s really useful to me to re-calibrate my time estimates, and to prove to myself that I can make good content in times that I secretly find so short that they’re cringe-worthy. Each time I do this, I cringe a little less.
And speaking of comfort zones, I strongly encourage all #KinkyScribble creators to tag their content so that readers can opt in or out with fully informed consent. I’m not perfect about this, but practice has been helping, and I’m committed to doing better in the future.
A note about using the hashtag: you’ll find some older posts under #KinkyScribbles, before I began to realize that its drawback as a hashtag is that sometimes you want to use it in a plural way, and others in a singular way. Moving forward, I intend to stick to just singular.
Elle’s writerly pep-talk
This is the first Kinky Scribble I’ve allowed myself to write and finish since mid-February. I forgive myself for struggling. I forgive myself for being human. I’m in fact giving myself a pat on the back for listening to my body and mental health and putting writing on hold for a while as work stress began to eat my brain, and then everything dissolved into the all-consuming terror of a genuine global pandemic. We have to take care of ourselves first.
Creative expression can be part of the healing process, and a fun and healthy way to channel sexuality and process darkness. But creating for the sake of creation at the expense of limited mental and emotional resources, especially during a time of pain, struggle, and fear, seems irresponsibly ableist and capitalist to me. We are worth more than our productivity. In a kink sense, we are worth more than our ability to Dominate or submit to others, worth more than a quick jerkoff session for a stranger, or a friend, or even someone we love. We are human beings first and foremost. So that’s why I forgive myself for taking a break.
And because I’m human, and doing the work on my own mental health, I’m grateful to have these avenues of expression to help me explore my sexuality… to share and celebrate those expressions with others. There are so many reasons I’m grateful for #SizeTwitter, but that may be one of the top reasons on my list today.
And now… to the kink! This particular idea came to me after seeing this tweet from BetterCallSmall, who is running a project of his own called #SizeSongs, to help people discover new size-themed songs each week. The song featured in the tweet, and the music video that goes with it, is an old favorite of mine from the days when I checked Postsecret regularly, and it was a pleasure to rediscover it. I’m looking forward to hearing more.
Wash Your Tinies
(Content includes: Giantess, gender-neutral tiny, nudity on camera for a public YouTube video, soap, water, massage, singing, spanking, illness mention, romantic feelings)
1689 words; 50 minutes writing time; 55 mins editing time (including 45 minutes after a beta read)
“Promise you won’t make me look like an idiot, right? Just in case it goes viral?” you ask. You swing your feet from your perch on the white porcelain edge of the sink at a cool four inches tall.
Your girlfriend grins down at you, adjusting her phone camera to get the best view of her breasts and her hands near the faucet. “I promise I’ll do my absolute best to show you in your sexiest light, little one. Just try to focus on how much this will help people! You’re going to do wonderfully.” You blush and begin untying your robe.
When you climb into her hands, she lifts you to her face and gives you a quick nuzzle and a kiss for good luck. You give her the thumbs-up and she hits record.
Feeling full to the brim with butterflies, you stretch out on your stomach on her palm as it lowers into the camera’s view. Just fake it till you make it, you tell yourself. You prop your head up on one elbow and give your most confident smile up at the camera. You kick your feet, hoping it distracts from your bare ass, and try to look flirtatious.
“Hello, everyone!” she says brightly. “We hope you’re all staying safe in these trying times. One thing we haven’t seen yet is a proper technique on washing your tinies. We all know that sizeshifters heal themselves instantly whenever they shrink or grow, and Giants and tinies are immune, the lucky bastards.” You wink up at her and give her some finger-guns which you immediately regret.
“I see you winking at me, you sexy, lucky little SOB,” she says, caressing you lightly with her free hand. “But!” she continues for the benefit of the camera, “even if your differently-sized friends are immune themselves to the illness, they can still be carriers, just like any other surface, skin, or hair you might touch. That’s why it’s vitally important to clean your tinies or any other sizeshifters who get handled a lot by larger folks.”
You nod in agreement, wondering if your grin is starting to look a little frozen in place by now. Your girlfriend reaches toward the faucet with her elbow, turning it on and almost smothering you with her breasts. You emerge back into the view of the camera with a deeper blush.
“First, start with soap in your free hand. You don’t need a ton, but see the show notes for our recommendations on soap that will be gentle on tinies’ skin, hair, and eyes.”
She takes a handful of foaming lavender-scented soap that’s at least part baby shampoo to keep your eyes from stinging. You appreciate that she protects your dignity by not showing the ingredients of the bottle in the video itself.
“Next, with your other hand, test the temperature of the water with a pinkie and once it’s as warm as your tiny can comfortably stand, rinse them thoroughly with water. Give them a chance to get the water out of their eyes, of course!” You make a show of reaching out to test the water, too, and give her a thumbs-up. She drenches you completely in the flow from the faucet. You toss your hair playfully and grin.
“Next, coat your tiny from toes to—well, we call it from toes to turtleneck. Make sure your tiny takes their own handful of soap so they can clean their own face, ears, and hair. Talk this over with your tiny first, so they can decide whether they want help with this. Most want to do it themselves. Wouldn’t you?”
As she talks, she runs her soapy fingers up and down your body. The soles of your feet, around your ankles and calves, the backs of your knees and thighs, over your buttocks, up your back, around your shoulders, then your arms and hands, and finally back up to rub out the tension at the back of your neck. You take a handful of the soap and begin working it into your own hair.
“Oh, yes, you beautiful little thing. Work it, down there.” She’s gentle, but her fingers massage you thoroughly and you make big, happy writhing motions to show her and the audience just how good this feels. “Make it fun! There’s no reason this has to be a frantic, scary thing. Make it slow, make it sensual. Use it as a chance to be mindful of each other’s bodies and skin. For just 20 seconds, focus on that feeling together. Both of you. Scrub all the way up and down their backside, then have them flip over—” You do this obediently, covering your more X-rated parts in soap as you’d previously negotiated. “And give them the same attention along the front for 20 seconds. Again. Keep it calm. Sensual. Make it the kind of massage you’d want to have, if it were you. And if your cleaning accidentally causes a whole new mess,” she says, working her fingers slowly between your thighs, her voice growing huskier, “well, there’s always more soap!”
You both laugh, and you catch the way she’s looking down at you adoringly. You become a little bolder for the camera, and her caresses become more amorous, even while she keeps up the same kinds of motions that the CDC recommended for human-sized hand-washing. She runs through the different techniques you’ve developed together to make sure every inch of you is clean and tingly with her touch. You suspect the thumb-scrubbing section will be very popular, though it takes your breath away for a moment.
“We’ve seen all kinds of 20-second song alternatives to the good old Happy Birthday or singing your ABC’s. Our current favorite is to go full karaoke and belt out Dirty Little Secret by the All-American Rejects!
I’ll keep you, my dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll be just another regret
Just another regret, hope that you can keep it
My dirty little secret
You wiggle your hips and butt in time to the music. She scrubs your back with interlaced fingers, then spanks you with a soap-splattering smack. You gasp and give her a scandalized look, even though you agreed on this beforehand, too. “We’ve found that the chorus is about 20 seconds,” she says breathlessly, as you flip over and she demonstrates the techniques on your front again, launching into your next favorite part of the song, adding, “This part is closer to 30!”
Who has to know?
When we live such fragile lives,
It’s the best way we survive
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you’ve thrown away
Find out games you don’t wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know…
By the end of the song, you’re both singing together with gusto. She shakes her shoulders near you to set off her tits jiggling in a way almost guaranteed to win your channel a few more followers. You come to your knees with a wild air guitar, still covered in foam and with full faith that your shampoo-mohawk adds to your head banging rock star look.
You both dissolve into sexy, loving laughter at the end of the song. “God, I love you,” she says, grinning down at you. You feel warm and goofy and wonderful enough to kiss your palm and gesture as if throwing it up to her.
“Okay, little lover, you ready to scrub down your face and rinse off? Folks, always, always remember to ask first before rinsing your tinies! We can’t stress this enough. It’s only polite, and especially important if they have to brace themselves for particularly heavy water pressure. Imagine getting dunked into a hot waterfall without warning!”
She waits for you to soap down your face and give her a big thumbs-up. Then she moves you slowly under the warm torrent of water from the faucet. You feel her hands stroking you squeaky clean and can tell even without opening your eyes that she’s preserving your modesty with her hands. You sneak a quick kiss and feel the lightest squeeze in response.
“Remember to have a clean, soft washcloth ready for your tiny or sizeshifter when they’re done with their wash. They might be impervious to the illness, but they do often need help to maintain their body temperature! If you plan on cuddling your tiny, it may be a good idea for you to let them rest here at this point, and go take a full shower yourself so you’re both as clean as can be. And because we recommend these scrubs at least twice a day or more, depending on how much outside interaction you have, it can be a good idea to keep a sanitized container of gentle unscented lotion—that you only touch after washing your hands and tinies, of course!”
She offers you a dollop of your favorite body butter on a fingertip. You rub it gratefully into your skin as she starts wrapping up the video.
“And remember, this whole ordeal can be intense and quite exhausting for our little friends and companions, so give them a chance to go at their own pace. Always respect when and how a tiny wants to be touched, now more than ever. Say it with us, bodily autonomy is important at all sizes!”
You nod sleepily at all the wisdom in her words, some of which you wrote yourself before filming began. You stretch out in the pocket formed by the washcloth, which rests on the pillowy mattress of a much larger towel. “All right, that’s my cue to hop in the shower and get squeaky clean while this little one takes a well-earned rest. See how we’ve set out a bed in some sunshine from the window? Best spot for a post-scrub cat nap, if you ask me.”
You wave tiredly up at the camera, grinning beyond it to your girlfriend and her loving eyes. She gives you a wink.
“Thanks again, everyone! Be safe, and stay tuned for next week’s Giantess carwash-themed episode!”