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Size Erotica: Carried Away

(Themes include unexpected growth, building destruction, some physical danger for the Giant and the tiny, a Giant in a tight space, bruises and light injury, breast play, oral sex, vaginal insertion, some feelings, and puns.)

 

Sex + humor + size kink

Sometimes you just want to write some funny sex scenes. And sometimes those sex scenes grow into stories in their own right.

I’m pleased to present Carried Away, a 5000-word F/f growth story inspired by @SunnyDLiteNSFW and this tweet:

I’m not quite sure how, but that idea grew into this:

“Right here. Right now. Focus on me and how I feel inside you.” Carrie raised her hips ever so slightly, tightening her muscles in response. They moaned together, heedless of the rubble shifting around them. 

“Oh, God, Meg.” Carrie’s heartbeat was pounding. She accidentally swelled larger, her hands gripping a broken table and a metal filing cabinet so hard that one splintered and the other dented. She rocked her hips slightly, a begging motion, the universal signal for fuck me harder.

They sank into a rhythm, a dangerous, devil-may-care rhythm. She felt like a dragon twined around a castle tower, powerful and sensual. Meg was working magic inside her, like a tiny brave and bewitching sorceress. Carrie moaned into the wind and inched larger from sheer arousal. She should hold still. She knew she should. 

 

Many thanks to @pseudo_size for beta reading and providing edits! It became a much stronger story with your suggestions.

Scroll to the read more if you want to jump right to the story.

 

Insertion—but from whose perspective?

Something occurred to me as I was writing and tinkering with point of view. It’s so rare to see a size kink insertion scene written from the perspective of the person being penetrated.

Anyone like me who’s a fan of insertion is probably familiar with the sensual tropes of a tiny’s POV as they admire, explore, and enter the body of a larger person. For me, when I’m feeling tiny, I get off the thought of being overwhelmed by the power of someone’s body. The incredible intimacy of experiencing your loving partner that way. Or the more intense fantasies that involve helplessness, humiliation, objectification, and darker themes. There’s a lot to like, no matter your interests.

The most common trope features a tiny man inserted into the vagina of a Giantess. Sometimes you’ll see a Giantess and a tiny woman. More rarely, other gender combinations.

Out of curiosity, I went to GiantessWorld.net, pulled up the insertion tag, and kept a tally of how many stories included F/f content. Full disclosure, I got bored of this after about eleven pages of scrolling. But out of roughly 220 stories, I counted about 65 that had F/f, or 29%. The GW tagging system doesn’t offer a category for the POV of the stories, but anyone who’s enjoyed this trope for long knows that most of them center the tiny’s perspective.

It would erase many genders represented in this kink community to say that centering the tiny’s perspective effectively centered the male gaze. But for many years, the people in the world most likely to create and commission kinky content were the ones with extra money and leisure time. So the artwork and erotica skewed towards the cis, straight, male gaze.

(“Male gaze” is a term coined by film critic Laura Mulvey in 1973 that describes the cinematic angle of a heterosexual man on a woman. “Essentially, the male gaze sees the female body as something for the heterosexual male (or patriarchal society as a whole) to watch, conquer, and possess and use to further their goals,” she wrote. Studies show it increases self-objectification and body shame in women. Luckily, careful and mindful application of kink is one way that a person can process feelings like that, but I digress.)

 

Some queer size kink history

Then Tumblr burst onto the scene. And revolutionized women’s sexual exploration and expression online. Especially queer women.

Finding the Giant/tiny size kink community on Tumblr in 2015 changed my life, because I was able to see I wasn’t an outlier as a woman in a space full of men. I was one of many women with this kink, in a space where male-centered content had reason to be vastly over-represented.

Tumblr changed all of that and empowered us to create and share the kinky fantasies that centered other perspectives.

From Elle Magazine’s 2018 article: Tumblr Was A Safe Space For Women To Consume Porn. Now It’s Banning Adult Content.

“With Tumblr, I was able to find and curate my site to my tastes, that’s what made it different,” she said. “I didn’t have to rely on mainstream adult content to tell me what should turn me on. [That] same drive to find sexual content that mirrors our own desires is the reason Tumblr porn was [or] is so popular with many women. The fact is A LOT of women consume and view porn… Less adult content focused on the male gaze and more focused on mutual pleasure and pleasuring — that’s what there needs to be more of and what Tumblr was able to foster.”

“Tumblr is the only website where if you search a tag like #lesbian you’ll get sex education, erotica, fan fiction, porn, coming out stories, and fashion.”

That ability to curate and tag search — Chase calls Tumblr “Pinterest for sex” — was instrumental. Sex could be ruled by sensibility, allowing vulnerable and underprivileged communities to connect and start exchanging real information along with nudes. To this day, the top-reviewed and most-followed porn Tumblrs include not just explicit-content curators, but blogs like Orgasmic Tips for Girls, which teaches women how to masturbate, or xxuntilweod, which mixes relatively vanilla clips of women kissing and holding hands with more graphic images of lesbian sex, letting women explore a whole range of queer intimacy without either sensationalizing or censoring it.

As the article points out, Tumblr banned NSFW content in 2018 thanks to SESTA/FOSTA legislation, and many queer and kink communities scattered to the four winds. Some of us made the jump to Twitter, Discord, or created our own blogs like this one.

I remember the frantic efforts we all made to back up our blogs and writing, which weren’t very successful. It hurts to think of all the content that I technically have, with garbled code, collecting dust in my cloud storage. I can share it here, but it would take a lot of effort to excavate it, and besides, the collaborative environment where those stories came to life are gone. It’s not quite the same.

And on a wider scale, so much was lost, but especially queer femme stories and perspectives. I miss the conversations badly. If I had shared these thoughts and this story on Tumblr, people would reblog it with their own comments, ideas, essays, stories, and it would just grow like this beautiful organic thing. Like a community mural, where people would pass by it from time to time and add more of themselves and their fantasies.

 

You said this was gonna be a funny story. WTF?

I know this is a serious introduction for a fun post. But it was on my mind when I realized the last time I saw an insertion scene from the perspective of a Giantess was on Tumblr.

I can’t even remember who wrote it. Was it one of those slap-dash collaborative efforts, where we built on each others’ work to riff off each other, challenge each other? Was it public roleplay? Or prose? A poem? Was it a simple exploration, a few paragraphs of pleasure? I can’t even recall details enough to ask my fellow alumni from the school of Tumblr sexual expression if they remember what I’m talking about.

The point is, plenty of people in this community don’t identify as male and exclusively tiny. And we deserve to see our own pleasure represented in size kink stories. Because sometimes I want to be overwhelmed—and sometimes I want to be the one who’s overwhelming.

The only solution I can think of is to create more content. Be the porn you want to see in the world!

 

Read the story

 

Carried Away

By Elle Largesse

Copyright 2021, all rights reserved

5084 words

 

Themes include unexpected growth, building destruction, some physical danger for the Giant and the tiny, a Giant in a tight space, bruises and light injury, breast play, oral sex, vaginal insertion, some feelings, and puns.

 

Carrie always had excellent boundaries at work. So, when her ex Megan hired on in a nearby department, she was confident that she could keep her cool and maintain a professional distance. That was the plan, at least, until the building collapsed.

They worked on opposite sides of the office, but accounting and marketing shared a break room, so she saw Meg often. Carrie tried not to stare wistfully at the way Meg’s curves filled out her work-friendly dresses. She’d been such an awkward duckling in college, trying fashions that were as haphazard as her sense of direction in life. Carrie couldn’t believe how much had changed. “Meg the Keg-Stand Queen” was “Megan, Content Manager” now. She could even get their demented copy machine to work, and yet Carrie hadn’t seen her kick it once.

Meg’s transformation from hot mess to hot confident professional was such a turn on that Carrie found herself browsing old diary entries on her ancient LiveJournal, trying to figure out why she’d dumped the starry-eyed marketing major in the first place. 

“I think maybe I was an idiot,” she sighed. She stared out the window where a busy construction scene unfolded next door. A 20-story crane had been standing sentry nearby for weeks, and she wouldn’t tell anyone but she found it immensely comforting to watch it on her breaks. It always made her daydream about road trips to nowhere and camping getaways where she got to cut loose and really, truly, be herself. Meg had come with her on one of those trips. Toward the end. “How the hell did I let you get away?” 

She had assumed she was alone with her coffee and regrets, so she jumped a mile when Megan’s voice surprised her.

“What, you swipe the wrong direction or something?” Meg said, walking past her table to the tea kettle. Carrie stiffened, but Meg set the pot to boil and turned around, crossing her arms, and gave her a smile that was kinder than she thought she deserved.

“Something like that,” Carrie said, setting down her phone. Outside, the wind howled and jackhammers split concrete, but inside, basking in that smile, she felt warm. History and memories crackled between them. New chemistry? Old? Did it matter?

“I’ve missed you,” Meg said. As if the words weren’t heavy. As if she hadn’t just made Carrie’s heart skip a beat. Carrie began to blush, until Meg followed it up with, “Especially when I need something off a tall shelf. Do you still…? Would you mind?” She pointed over her shoulder to the tallest shelf on the cabinet of assorted coffees and teas that the office had collected over the years. 

Carrie laughed it off and nodded. “You play lookout.”

“Just like old times.” They shared a grin that had Carrie’s pulse moving faster. She pushed back from the table and came to her feet, trying to project a confidence to match Meg’s own. 

She stepped closer than was strictly necessary, looking up into Meg’s brown eyes as if she was about to kiss her, and not as if she was about to serve as a more efficient alternative to a stepladder.

She took a deep breath and allowed the size magic to pour into her. Not opening the floodgates, but a small trickle. Larger. Not huge. Just larger. She filled her soft cotton tank top and cardigan in moments. Her knee-length pencil skirt became almost indecent, and the tank top exposed a midriff that made her glad her summer tan hadn’t faded into total oblivion yet. She always insisted on stretchy work clothes. That particular boundary had existed for a very good reason for a very long time.

The boundary about flirting with co-workers, however… That one didn’t seem to be holding quite as firmly. 

Meg’s confidence seemed to flicker as Carrie met her gaze and inched higher, not so much looming as she was leaning forward, leaning into the intimate space they used to share with kisses, touches, hugs. She thought she saw a glimpse of the old Meg, the one she’d rescued from cars with empty fuel tanks, and parties where they put Everclear in everything, and lonely, late-night cram sessions. Something in the way her lips parted. A hint of a tremble. 

Carrie stopped abruptly, realizing she’d grown more than she intended. Seven feet tall, in public, at work, what was she thinking? Another work boundary right out the window. She cleared her throat and broke their shared gaze, looking to the dusty shelf with boxes of tea. “What kind did you want?”

When Meg didn’t answer right away, she grabbed three of the boxes and shrank herself quickly. She barely managed to burn off the magic in a burst of adrenaline at how foolish it was to take a risk like that, for both their sakes. She didn’t stop until her clothes draped over her body in a work-appropriate way again. She felt slightly abashed as she forced herself to look up into Meg’s face. “Got you all three.” She squinted at the boxes. “Oops, these are all the same. Hope you like peppermint…” She trailed off. “What is it?”

Meg’s eyes were wide and locked on the window.

Carrie didn’t even have time to turn and see what hit them. 

Glass exploded in all directions, shards pummeling her back and the cabinets, and knocking the tea kettle clean off the counter. The counter itself heaved. An incredible groan reverberated in rushing wind as walls crumpled like tissue paper around them. 

Megan watched helplessly as the crane swung towards them, knocked off balance in the wind. Her first coherent thought was to wish Carrie was still big, as if a 7-ft tall woman could do anything to stop the metal monster hurtling in their direction. But it was instinctive to want to hide in the arms of someone tall and powerful. Besides, Carrie had saved her so many times, and in most cases her secret powers hadn’t even come into the equation. She was just a sometimes-giant, sometimes-snarky, generous-hearted woman, with a talent for numbers and spotting trouble a mile away. 

She hadn’t spotted this trouble. But she responded. Everything happened so fast that if Megan hadn’t known about Carrie’s abilities, she would have believed she was hallucinating. One minute, flirting while waiting for the kettle to heat up. The next minute, the entire wall caved in as a massive metal structure plummeted towards them, its blow glancing off the bicep of an enormous, angry giantess.

Carrie was so big, so incredibly big, and it happened in an instant. Once upon a time, Megan had loved to watch her “shredding striptease” as she destroyed thrift shop clothes by growing inch by sexy inch right through the seams. Slowly popping buttons off with her breasts was one of her favorite party tricks. Granted to only a select few parties, of course. Megan had seen Carrie’s growth powers, but she’d never witnessed a change this fast. Or this public.

One moment Carrie was a woman in a sweater set and scuffed leather heels, blushing and brash. The next moment she was a goddess, shielding Megan from shards of glass and twisting metal, unbound by mortal constraints like fabric or the laws of physics. Her clothes were just gone.

Megan and Carrie didn’t have time to worry about clothes. The wall was also just gone, and the roof had been replaced with windswept open sky.

Carrie was soon tall enough that her head and shoulders cleared the edge of the broken ceiling, and would have pushed into the 6th story, if that part of the 6th story had still been there. She had taken the brunt of the blow on the back of her shoulders and it was as if the energy of the falling crane had absorbed into her body as extra size. 

In that first initial burst, Megan had been overwhelmed as Carrie’s breasts burst into her face, filling her field of vision, but in seconds they were already far overhead. Years later, whenever she saw broken glass, her brain would immediately supply her with a vivid memory of breasts, soft on her face and throat as they expanded. She sometimes had dreams of trying to touch them, as they soared up and out of reach. 

Megan’s jaw dropped as Carrie expanded at a nearly explosive rate. She was taller than a bus, if a bus had crashed through the window instead of a crane. Did that even make sense? Buses weren’t tall, they were long. Her mind struggled to catch up with the crisis and the sizeshifting, and seeing her beautiful ex-girlfriend completely nude.

Carrie roared as the metal bracing against her back shifted and shoved her to her hands and knees. Megan cowered beneath her, terrified and grateful. She looked up the sloping curve of Carrie’s stomach, past rubble and the remains of the break room and a nearby office. 

Sirens wailed and beyond the shattered wall she saw people evacuating. Under the sounds of chaos, she registered the beeping of the awful copy machine signaling a paper jam, as if the wall next to it wasn’t smashed to smithereens, as if the damn thing weren’t teetering next to a five-story drop.

“Meg?” Carrie was panting, huge heaving breaths that broke into a whimper when Megan was slow to respond. “Meg, are you okay? Please be okay!” The giantess searched frantically, her head turning from side to side, trying to shift the warped metal of the crane that pinned her in place. 

“I’m okay,” she called out. “I’m right here. Not a scratch on me, if you can believe it. You saved me! Are you—are you okay?” 

An epic sigh whooshed out of Carrie’s lungs as Meg scrambled forward over shattered linoleum. 

“Thank fuck,” Carrie said. “I’m… I’ve been better. I think my back would be one massive bruise tomorrow, but I’ll heal when I shrink back. I always do.” She turned her head again. “I can’t see you, this cabinet is in the way.” She laughed, which did more to reassure Megan than anything else she could have said.

“What is it?” Megan stopped, hesitant to push between the pendulous curves of breasts nearly as tall as she was.

“It’s the damn tea cabinet. Hope you’re not still jonesing for a cup of peppermint. I think I burned my knee falling on the kettle.”

Megan laughed, looking back and staring at the flattened piece of metal that was indeed near Carrie’s left knee. 

“This sounds dumb, but can you come where I can see you?”

“I, um. Yeah. Sorry about this…” she said. “The only way to get up there to look you in the eyes is…” Megan’s face burned, and she had to put a hand over her eyes to say the words out loud. They tumbled out in a rush. “Is through your cleavage, is that okay by you?” 

Carrie’s chuckle made her breasts sway. “Yes, of course. Please hurry up!”

Megan stepped forward into the vast expanse of Carrie’s cleavage. Sliding between Carrie’s smooth, warm breasts took Megan right back to their last date. It had been in the mountains, she remembered. Cool air. Hot skin. 

She felt another whish of air as Carrie gasped. Her massive body shivered. “Oh. Hi.”

The giantess had such silky soft skin! And deep, quick heartbeats. It was so comforting that a part of Megan seriously considered lingering there just for the illusion of safety. She pushed forward with a reluctant caress. 

“Hi, yourself,” Megan said with a shaky smile, ducking under Carrie’s collarbone to finally make eye contact. “Miss me?” 

Carrie returned her look with relief. It was surreal seeing her so huge again. 

“More than you know,” she said, making Megan’s stomach do a somersault.

“You’ve got some, um. Rubble…” She stepped up to Carrie’s face, her beautiful billboard face, and reached up to dust debris off her cheek. Pieces of cinder block nearly the size of her hand rolled right off as Carrie’s eyelashes fluttered like huge butterflies. Megan couldn’t stop herself from making a small, undignified sound. Her stomach was practically ready to do backflips right off the building.

“This does not look comfortable,” she said, desperate to change the subject. She stepped back from that incredible gaze, her heart thudding in her chest. She gestured to the twisted metal that stretched out beyond the edges of the wrecked building. “Can you get out from under it?”

“Maybe? It’s heavy because the whole crane is still attached, I think. Get back under me and I’ll try.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Megan said, and with only a slight ping of embarrassment, headed straight back to the shelter of Carrie’s breasts. She heard a huff of laughter and felt on the edge of hysteria herself as she pushed between the two bell-shaped beauties. The nipples had gone hard in the cold autumn wind and nearly grazed the wreckage of the floor. She wished she could cup both of them in her hands to protect them. 

Carrie took two long deep breaths, adjusted her position as if she was preparing for a push-up, then gave an almighty heave upwards. 

Metal clanked and shrieked and Megan turned, burying her face in Carrie’s breasts as they lifted higher. For a moment, it sounded like it was working. Then: “Oh, fuck. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

The crane seemed to be sliding, and the floor buckled violently underneath them. Megan screamed, afraid the whole building was coming down underneath them. Above them, several cinder blocks crumbled off the remnants of the 6th floor and hit Carrie on her hand. 

“Ouch, fuck that hurt!” Carrie said, flexing her fist. 

“You all right?” Megan was grateful when she was able to keep herself from whimpering or asking if she was planning to collapse on top of her.

“Yeah. You’re safe, I’ve got you,” Carrie said, her voice straining. Megan nodded. She thought of all the times Carrie had saved her, and tried to put her faith in the odds that if she could do it a dozen times, she could do it again. Especially if she had someone with her, cheering her on. She wished she knew how else to help.

“Okay. So. New plan,” Megan said. “We can figure this out.”

Carrie nodded. “We have to get you someplace safe. I can handle this. I can move the crane off my shoulders and risk the fall if this all comes down. Not sure how I’m going to shrink back from this size without help, but I figure that’s a problem for future Carrie.” 

Megan closed her eyes and sighed, remembering the lengths she’d seen Carrie go to, in order to convince her body to behave and shrink back down to human size again. Most of them had been pretty kinky. With some effort, she brought her mind back to the more immediate problem. “Let’s circle back to that part where you can risk the fall if it all comes down.” Her voice didn’t even shake, but that was probably because she stopped, unable to say the next part out loud. Luckily, Carrie came to her rescue again. 

“Exactly. Right now the problem is that even if I can handle this, you can’t. I’m not gonna put you back in the building, I don’t trust it. And you can’t just hide in my tits or my hand. For one, I might accidentally hurt you by gripping you on instinct. And for another. As, um. As good as it feels to have you… in there.”

“In your cleavage?” Megan supplied, hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up in her again as she poked her head further out from her refuge. “Hiding in your enormous, bouncy, beautiful boobs?”

“Jesus fuck, woman,” Carrie said, laughing helplessly. “There’s the Meg I remember. Meg-the-Keg.”

They shared a laugh. Or, rather, Carrie laughed with huge concussive bursts of sound, and Megan laughed in a smaller, almost muffled way, her small breaths hardly moving the big, soft breasts. 

“I know you’re more than that now,” Carrie said. “Always were, of course. But. Like, I kind of wish you could be promoted above me just so I could see you power tripping all over this office. Whipping everyone into shape with force of optimism and willpower. You’d be glorious.”

Megan blushed and buried her face in Carrie’s epic cleavage. Did Carrie really see her like that, now? After all those fuck-ups in college? She felt so proud she thought she might burst.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like compliments. I just. Please go out with me if we make it through this. I’m sorry for hurting you. I was an idiot, and I think I still…” her voice trailed off.

A gust of wind caught in a stack of papers that swirled around them and off into the open sky. Carrie shivered, and bumps appeared all over her skin.

“You still have feelings for me?” Megan offered, her voice softer. “Listen. When we get out of here—WHEN—I’ll take you for a cup of tea. Any kind you want. As long as it’s peppermint.”

She leaned down and very deliberately kissed Carrie’s breast.

“I’ve never been asked out by a woman who was already in my cleavage.”

“Well. I think technically you asked me out, too. And anyway, I’ve been here before. Among… other places.” She nuzzled the spot she had just kissed, and wished she could offer a fraction of the same kind of help and comfort Carrie was giving her now.

The giantess tensed and Megan froze. “What? What is it now?” Megan asked.

“Nothing. Or, well. Something. A good something, I think.” Megan raised her eyebrows at the sound of the smile that came through in the larger woman’s voice. “You just gave me an idea. A really, profoundly, stupendously idiotic idea.”

 

 

Carrie knew how to hold still during sex. 

She even knew the secret of staying perfectly, 100% still during orgasms. 

Given the chance, she’d writhe and buck her hips and curl her toes with just as much abandon as the next person. But you didn’t spend years growing to room size when aroused, without picking up skills in restraint, patience, and an appreciation for the importance of Kegel exercises. 

Carrie didn’t feel patient right now. Restraint was sexier when it involved rope. Gulliver-style restraint, now that she could appreciate. Restraint that was forced on her by crumbling drywall and rebar, and by the entire building threatening to collapse around them? That was not so sexy. 

But the reason behind the need for restraint—rescue Meg—keep Meg safe—

Oh, GOD, Meg was slipping deeper inside her—

Her heart swelled with emotion. Her body trembled larger with need. Inch by inch, barely in control. She felt protective and powerful. And yet so helpless in the face of her own arousal. 

Carrie forced herself to hold. Hold her size. Hold still. 

“I’ve got you,” Meg said, her voice husky down between Carrie’s legs. “You can do this.”

Carrie’s breath huffed out in something that was half laugh, half grunt of pleasure. “That’s my line.” 

“I need you to focus, you big, sexy she-demon. Don’t get carried away.”

“You did not just make a pun while climbing into my pussy. In public!”

“Public puns are still legal. And this is sex in self-defense. There’s like, a catastrophe and stuff. Anyway. Hush. I’m almost in—”

“Oh, I know.” Carrie couldn’t help herself as her body clenched around Meg’s form. She’d been able to hold herself still as the smaller woman’s feet and calves slid inside her. Then her thighs, hips, ass. She’d trembled, but held steady. Stomach. But then came her breasts, soft and small and round, with hard nipples like little bumps for her pleasure. Slipping first one, then the next, between her labia minora. Carrie moaned and her pussy tightened in a spasm of sensation.

“Oh, fuck, woman. That felt wild,” Meg gasped. Carrie could feel a shiver run through the tiny woman’s body and before she could stop herself, she clenched again. 

“You—okay?” Carrie managed.

“Fuck yes,” Meg groaned. She panted as Carrie forced herself to release the muscles. “You’re like a weighted blanket, kind of. But sexy. So incredibly fucking sexy.” 

“Okay,” Carrie said. “That’s good, because I’m going to try and get out from under the crane now, and my whole body will probably tense up. You ready?”

“I was born ready, bitch!” Meg’s arms and shoulders were still free, and she gave her inner thigh a solid smack.

“Christ. Don’t make me laugh! I’m about to bench press a crane!”

Meg’s voice came again, more serious this time. “You’ve got me. You can do this. I trust you, Carrie.” 

Carrie took several cleansing breaths, trying to get as much oxygen into her lungs as possible. She estimated she was nearly forty feet tall now, or close to it, and she could probably lift a crane. 

She had to.

She wiggled in an undignified way until she could brace her shoulders against the beams. She tried not to think too hard about it. The building was evacuated. Meg was safe. Just do the thing. 

She shoved down with all the power she could, lifting her shoulders in an explosive movement. For the briefest of moments the crane hung in the air and she let herself fall on her stomach, reaching out an arm to catch the damn thing as she twisted underneath. Now she lay beneath the creaking crane arm, face up and blinking at the cool autumn sky.

“Still okay?”

“Yep! That was dizzying, but I’m fine. Snug as a bug in a—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Okay. One more push…”

Carrie felt more confident as she placed her hands on the bars of the crane. It lifted more easily, as if she were simply bench pressing at the gym—although a heavier weight than usual. Up, up, just a little more! She heaved the machine over her head, where it smashed through the wall to a supply closet. 

Printer toner exploded in yellow and magenta as if to celebrate. She laughed as she was able to take a full breath for the first time in what felt like an eternity. 

“Success!”

“Fuck yeah!” Meg called. “You should totally put that on your resume.”

“Hah! Help me land a job with some light lifting required.” She looked around at what was left of their office. The floors above looked dangerously unstable, and she was probably projecting her fears, but she swore she could feel the whole thing swaying with each breeze.

Through an open door she spotted the awful copy machine they all relied on, and on impulse she reached in, took the entire machine in her hand, and crushed it. 

Meg cheered and Carrie laughed again. “Copier repair skills. Check.”

“Mmm, that was deeply satisfying,” Meg said. “I think I need a cigarette, just from watching.”

Meg moved inside her, shoulders shifting as she used her arms to reorient herself. Carrie blushed hard, amazed that she had almost managed to forget her ex-girlfriend was shoulders-deep in her pussy, watching all of this from the vantage of her vulva.

“Hey, Meg? Remember how I said shrinking back without help was a problem for future Carrie?”

“Yeah?”

“Well… I know we talked about going out for a cup of tea. But maybe just this once we could have some fun, you know, before the date.”

She lifted her head to peer through the open valley of her breasts and down between her legs, hoping to catch a glimpse of Meg’s reaction. The angle wasn’t right. She’d need a mirror to see Meg, unless she tried to sit up. Enough of the break room walls and ceiling were left that sitting up might be a dangerous proposition, but then again so was throwing a crane into the supply closet. It still balanced across the floor nearby, creaking ominously.

“Meg? I can’t see you. It’s okay if you want to stop. We can figure something else out.” She reached down with a free hand and her heart caught in her throat when Meg’s tiny hands touched her finger.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Meg said. There was unmistakable heat in her voice. A shiver ran through the tiny woman’s body, tactile evidence of her excitement that sent a wave of relief through Carrie. 

“Thank you,” she said.

She felt a tiny kiss on her fingertip. Tiny, but powerful, considering how incredible it made her feel. Meg’s next words felt so good that she closed her eyes to savor them. “I’ve got you, now. Don’t think about the building, okay? Think about how good this feels.”

Meg stroked Carrie’s labia in broad, firm motions, dipping inside several times to draw out more juices for lubrication. Soon Carrie couldn’t just feel how wet she was, she could hear it, too. “Okay. Okay. That’s really good. Right here. Right now. Focus on me and how I feel inside you.” Carrie raised her hips ever so slightly, tightening her muscles in response. They moaned together, heedless of the rubble shifting around them. 

“Oh, God, Meg.” Carrie’s heartbeat was pounding. She accidentally swelled larger, her hands gripping a broken table and a metal filing cabinet so hard that one splintered and the other dented. She rocked her hips slightly, a begging motion, the universal signal for fuck me harder.

They sank into a rhythm, a dangerous, devil-may-care rhythm. She felt like a dragon twined around a castle tower, powerful and sensual. Meg was working magic inside her, like a tiny brave and bewitching sorceress. Carrie moaned into the wind and inched larger from sheer arousal. She should hold still. She knew she should. 

Meg stretched her arms higher, reaching for Carrie’s clit. “Carrie! You have to stop growing!” Carrie was barely listening. It was so hard to hold her size, to hold still, to hold in any of this pleasure.

Meg delicately peeled back Carrie’s clitoral hood to curl her hands around the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath. She stroked and tugged in a sudden burst of sensation that made Carrie’s whole body jerk violently as she moaned. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh fucking fuck!” Meg’s body writhed within her. Carrie felt a stab of envy that Meg was allowed to buck her hips and curl her toes, but she herself needed to hold still. How could she hold this all inside? Every movement felt amazing. It had been so long! “Meg, please, please!”

“You have to listen to me! Stop growing while I get you off, dammit!”

Carrie rocked her hips against the rubble in response to Meg’s frantic fast strokes. She moaned so loudly that she put the distant sirens and howling wind to shame. 

“I am begging you, stop moving or you’re gonna bring it all down on us!” Meg’s voice sounded so small, and that turned Carrie on even more. “Do those—those clenches again—”

“What if I hurt you?” Carrie panted. 

“Maybe I like pain, dammit! You’re not the only one who learned a thing or two after college!” A jolt of electric pain and pleasure zapped through Carrie’s clit as Meg smacked her, a wet slapping sound echoing up from between her thighs. Carrie clenched down on her then, hard. Tightening, releasing, tightening, releasing. 

“Yes! Yes, Carrie, fuck me! HARDER!” Meg’s tiny, slippery hands rubbed the center of her, matching her rhythm. 

Carrie pulsed against Meg’s trapped and tiny form with all of her most intimate strength, reveling in the moans that punctuated each grasping, shuddering constriction. She wanted to grow. She wanted to thrash and cum and not give a fuck about the building or anyone seeing, she just wanted to push herself larger and larger. 

“Meg—I can’t hold back—” The arousal flooded her with a rush of size as she gave in. Meg’s hands slipped from the swelling clit as Carrie’s powerful muscles pulled her deeper into her aching pussy.

It was the begging that finally pushed her over the edge. “Please! Hurry! HARDER, PLEASE!”

Carrie let herself writhe. Let herself grow. Heedless, she turned in the rubble, knocking over the remains of a wall. She didn’t care. She shoved her hand back down between her legs to shield Meg. With her partner protected, she moaned in mingled relief and desire as she finally gave in to the deep need to move and to thrust. Carrie bucked her hips in an earthquake of abandon. She felt tiny hands grasp her knuckle as she spasmed, her pussy clamping down on Meg’s pleading groans as the climax washed over her. 

Her toes managed to curl before the building well and truly collapsed around them. 

She laughed and coughed with the dust and rode the afterglow as she shook off the concrete and debris. Only when she was sure they’d be safe did she let the release of pleasure do the work of releasing the pressure of size magic within her. 

She pulled Meg free as she dwindled slowly, lifting the little woman languidly onto her breasts as the wind blew across her own sweat-soaked skin. She sheltered her with her hands, trying to keep her warm as her juices cooled in the autumn air. 

“Maybe I should carry you out of this rubble before I shrink completely back to normal,” she sighed. Thirty feet already felt so much smaller than forty. Relatively speaking. Meg’s whole head and shoulders could use one of her areola as a pillow, so she wasn’t actually small yet. Just. Less large. 

Carrie watched Meg nuzzle her nipple and smiled. She forced herself to let go of her intertwined desires for more sex and more size. Deep breath in and feel your size, she coached herself silently. Deep breath out and let it all go. The size magic trickled slowly out of her as the afterglow tingled away. 

“I know that was a wild ride,” Carrie said. “You still trust me?” 

Meg nodded, grinning up at her. “Wild, yes. But no harder than a keg stand.” She slid down the slope of her skin and kissed the open expanse between Carrie’s breasts, which spilled out on either side thanks to gravity. Carrie laughed and cupped a breast in each hand, squishing them together around Meg like some bizarre, teasing hug. 

Meg responded with more smiles, more kisses. “Besides,” she said. “I know you’ve got me.”

Published inEroticaKink PhilosophyShort FictionWriting

One Comment

  1. Olo Olo

    This one is delightful, Elle. As someone who has clearly thought a lot about being in both Carrie’s and Meg’s positions, you really carried this one off. This is one of the most vivid illustrations of the complementary pleasures of containment and constriction that I’ve ever read. Thanks for the squeeze.

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