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Size Erotica: Dear Professor, Part 3

I’m pleased to share the climax and conclusion of a story I wrote for my good friend @giant_micro back in January 2020 as a gift. I have revealed it slowly over three parts. Start with “Dear Professor: Part 1” and then enjoy “Dear Professor: Part 2.”

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

Question on BDSM from a fan

A reader reached out to me about “Dear Professor,” curious about the BDSM dynamics and why Ryan would find any of this therapeutic. Wouldn’t it add to his stress?

I thought I might offer my response here for anyone else who shares that curiosity.

The short answer for why it’s therapeutic is the same as how a sub would find it therapeutic to be spanked, flogged, or otherwise consensually abused by a Dom in a BDSM setting.

A BDSM scene is one way to speak the language of the body to prove to your nervous system that you are facing your fears and moving through the stress/painful emotions of your life, that you have survived, that you are safe now. Likewise, the comfort of aftercare is vital to BDSM because it provides that final component for our nervous system to understand that we have fought the lion or outrun it, and made it home to our people safely.

When you deliberately give up your power to someone worthy of your trust, you get to physically explore what it’s like to be powerless within the bounds of a safe space, and prove to your body that you can get through it. You come out on the other side with proof that you can negotiate your boundaries and desires and trust another person to help you survive it. As strange as it sounds, you can earn confidence by choosing an experience like this—it’s a breath of fresh air if you lack agency or control in other parts of your life. Because it’s one thing to understand powerlessness in a philosophical way, and another thing entirely to experience it physically. Viscerally.

(And yes, to me, the act of reading an immersive erotic story counts as a physical experience. The mirror neurons in your brain that activate when you read a story would probably agree. Full disclosure: I have only been lucky enough to experience kink parties in person a handful of times, so most of my first-hand BDSM experience comes from vivid visualizations of erotic size fantasies and role play. Thankfully, the brain and body often cannot tell the difference.)

In this case, Elle in the story is using extreme size difference and her body instead of BDSM toys. Instead of rope, she can rely on the weight of her body to trap Ryan, or the simple elastic tension of her sports bra or leggings to keep his tiny form helpless and at her mercy. Instead of a spanking paddle or leather flogger to help her sub call up emotions like fear or anger, she can prove to Ryan how helpless he is against the landscape of her body—and, as you’ll see in this final chapter—her sex toys.

If you found this interesting, a longer answer is available in my blog post Sexual Brakes, Trauma, & Kink in the Burning 20’s. I cover some of Emily Nagoski’s research on the neuroscience of sexual brakes and accelerators, why we don’t have sex drives, how to use emotions to release stress, and my own recipe on using size kink to achieve that catharsis.

Or you could just, you know, read this extremely kinky thing I created and see what that does for you.


Read the story


Dear Professor: Part 3

By Elle Largesse

Copyright 2021, all rights reserved.

2741 words

Ryan has fought hard to earn her praise, but how will he face the immensity of her body, her willpower, and her undeniable desire?

This F/m story contains shrinking to sizes under a millimeter, breast play, body exploration, insertion, anal, sex toys, entrapment, falling from a height, domination and submission, humiliation, praise, some mind control elements, and aftercare. There are also hints of fear play and dubcon (dubious consent), and processing emotions like anger and helplessness. Not all themes will be present in all parts. I welcome help in tagging—please let me know if I have missed anything important.


His feet slid in strange ways on the texture of the strange, pink silicone, and he slid several times before getting the hang of it. But it wasn’t a conscious adjustment. Nothing was conscious right now. There was only his body full to the brim with adrenaline and the certainty he needed to outrun something far above him. Something growing closer.

A kind of ledge appeared in the distance. Sloping downward? He pelted forward with huge strides, not even caring where he was going or what he would do when he got there. 

The pink ground under his feet slammed up into him without warning, knocking the wind out of him. As he gasped and struggled to fill his lungs, the angle of the ground shifted at right angles and he began sliding down the edge. Up? Down? What was this kinky thing, anyway? 

Something hard, ridged, and impressively huge smacked into him from behind. A fingernail? Good God, he was small! The ridge of her nail launched him up, up, up the slope of the toy and to a domed surface where he clung, panting and filling his lungs gratefully. “There, now. Deep breath. What a good little pervert you are, managing to hang on so valiantly like that.” 

His eyes widened as new energy flooded into him. Praise. Her words of praise filled his insignificant form with warmth and calming purpose. He came to his feet, looking around for her fingertip—he was here to please her—

A crystalline orb crashed down in front of him, massive and disorienting like a glass sphere the size of a building. In a surreal way, the surface of it shattered into ripples and before he could fathom what he was seeing, it splashed into droplets of thousands of other little crystalline orbs. He screamed as one pummeled straight at his chest and knocked him backwards. But instead of the pain of impact, he was confused to find a thick, viscous liquid coating his chest hair and dripping down his stomach. 

The same strange splattering sound came from nearby and he looked up just in time to catch a faceful of more viscous liquid, carrying him in a tidal wave back the way he’d come. He just barely kept his head above the surface. Though the magic would keep him safe without breathing, he desperately wanted to keep filling his lungs with air as long as possible.

He cried out and was humbled to realize that his own voice would never be heard under the reverberating laughter above. 

Only then did he manage to force himself to look up. 

The pucker of her ass hovered in his sky, looming like a Star Destroyer.

Beyond her enormity, the locker room looked deserted. Did it matter? There would be no way for him to ask anyone else for help, because who would ever notice a speck like him? A speck. A goddamn speck on a goddamn sex toy, so tiny he couldn’t even swim his way out of a droplet of lube. 

The humiliation of this left him trembling and aroused. His hand moved to touch his cock as he didn’t need to tread “water” in this gel-like substance. The slick feeling of his own skin under his hand was completely unique. He played with lube sometimes, but never had he been completely suspended in it. He ran his hands over himself and stared up at her with equal parts fear, horror, and painfully intense arousal.

“That’s right. I’m beautiful, aren’t I?” came the voice of the deity far above him. Massive hands stroked down her lower back and buttocks. “That silly little burst of fear wasn’t very manly, was it? I’m glad you’re changing tactics and owning up to what a little pervert you are. Really taking the time to appreciate your destination.” She smacked herself once, twice. “Such a big, big, beautiful ass.”

Never had he been so completely humbled that touching himself felt like literally the only option left to him. What else could he do? A speck stroking himself, suspended in a droplet of lube meant to make this huge sex toy more enjoyable. 

She teased him, lowering herself and then lifting up, lowering so close that he braced himself for impact, then lifted herself up again. He held his breath as she teased, surprising himself by wishing she would come closer. At another size, another version of him would dearly love to press the tip of his cock against that tight hole and push himself inside. He stroked himself now and knew at this size she would never feel his proud, aching cock as it, and all the rest of him, entered her. 

As if she was waiting for the signal of his desire, pulsing deep and shamefully within him, Elle sank down onto the sex toy and stopped teasing him. 

The puckered skin of her ass lowered down like some bizarre circus trick, tensing and widening, opening ever so slightly, then closing again. The droplet that held him prisoner made contact first, lifting him and pulling him up against her for a surreal moment. His hands touched her skin, like making first contact with an alien presence. Lube coated them both, glistening in the dim light. Then her unstoppable ass came crashing down into him. Lube squirted in every direction under her hot, smothering flesh. It was like being hit with the weight of a skyscraper, across the length of his body. 

His hands scrambled for purchase in the wrinkles of skin and he gave an almighty wrench of strength to pull himself up and away from the domed tip of the sex toy as it dove within the leviathan. Like a torpedo the size of a minnow being swallowed by a whale. Only the minnow was bigger than a jet to him, and the whale seemed larger than a continent. Larger than a planet. None of this made any sense. He decided to stop grappling with the idea of it, and instead just try and survive the reality of it.

His hands were too slick to hold him here, and he found himself sliding along the outside of her skin. But surely, better than inside? Relief at his daring escape was brief. Some wild part of him throbbed with a discordant desire to serve her that way. Within.  

The wrinkle that he clung to constricted, then widened. The sex toy grew wider and wider and the puckered opening of her ass grew broader and smoother to admit the greater girth. Then the wrinkle smoothed out completely and he found himself in an uncontrollable lube droplet slide down her skin toward the immense silicone sex toy. He had time to wonder if he was still, somehow, shrinking.

Moans far above, as he cried out in the terrifying plunge down her skin to the toy. He tumbled, slipping, and hit the velvety smooth silicone with a wet smack of his back and buttocks. He stared upward with throbbing, erotic terror as the avalanche of flesh descended upon him.

Heat. Pressure. Intense, crushing power. Wet, constricting desire. 

His cock strained with rigidity, pinned between his thigh and the wall of her skin, the muscle of it moving with soul-crushing strength as he slid up and deep inside her. Every part of his front—his face, chest, arms, hips, cock, thighs, shins, and feet, felt massaged all at once by this intimate thrust. But it was his cock that cried out most. The discordant desire in him gushed forth in this darkness, as his body screamed at him to fuck, please God, fuck something. He tried to tell his body to shut up—he was the one being fucked—

The grinding glacier slowness stopped. Then, with a magnitude of force he could not fathom, it shifted, reversing. He was being pulled in the opposite direction now. His body caught between the toy and the wall of her ass, cushioned only by the smear of lube that still somehow coated him. She reversed again. Then again. He no longer knew which way was in and which was out. 

Red, warm light glowed in arm’s reach and he strained for it, pushing, pulling, as the toy adjusted again. Light. Air. Blessed light and breath. 

He gasped in a full breath, working his head and shoulders free. He looked out and tried to understand the huge shapes of what must be her fingers and the pink silicone handle of the toy. The wrinkly, once again puckered skin of her asshole tightened down around the pillar of the sex toy. The fingers wiggled the handle of the plug, then tapped it, as if settling it in place. Such a simple gesture. Such an earthquake of reaction to him. Ripples of crushing pressure stretched her asshole around him. He cried out, in pleasure or in fear, he wasn’t sure.

It was almost slow motion as her panties came up over the enormous globes of her ass. Light dimmed again as her leggings covered those. 

She jumped. A goddess, jumping up and down, jiggling her butt, then taking huge swaying steps. She stopped. 

“You’re going to get me off whether you like it or not, dear professor,” her voice carried down to him with an almost dream-like quality. He wondered if she could tell he was only half-inside her now, or if she was talking to herself. “I do hope you like it, though. You’ve earned it. Such a good little toy. Almost as good as the one you’re about to ride to my climax!”

That’s when she must have hit the button—because of course this thing had to be a vibrator, too—and his whole world devolved into rhythmic, pulsating, sensual vibrations. His cock practically screamed at him, sensation straight to oblivion. 

Helpless, horny beyond anything he could comprehend, he floated in the humiliating pressure and heat between the rim of her asshole and the handle of a butt plug vibrating with more strength than he could ever possess in multiple lifetimes. 

She was walking now. Faster. Bigger strides. The kind of strides that sent him weightless into the air, vibrating on body-numbing highs, then pummeled him with a heavy footstep in the very next instant. Was he shrinking again? Smaller, smaller, his cock straining harder and harder against the pleasure of being so totally trapped and used this way, his body thrusting even as the toy worked back and forth, in and out with each gargantuan step. Throbbing, shrinking, straining, thrusting, throbbing, shrinking—shrinking—still, he shrank—smaller with each step now, the harder she used him the more he wanted to lose himself within her completely, to truly become her toy, to please her, to not just beg for her praise but to become the very thing, the very essence of her pleasure—

His jism spurted out into the mess of screaming hot sweat and lubricant, his own sobs of buzzing-numb ecstasy and climax lost entirely within her enormity—

The sudden absence of deafening, brain-dissolving vibration gave him the closest thing he’d ever felt to an out-of-body experience. He floated. He wondered if he had somehow possibly become the pleasure that felt woven into his existence right now. 

Now, right now. Where was now? What was he? Who was he? 

He couldn’t feel much anymore. Couldn’t remember much, either. He felt like a dimension of existence unto himself. He had pleased, had felt pleasure. Had become the pleasure. What else was there? 

He closed his eyes in the dark and floated.



Soft, pillowy warmth. He turned and moved—no, he hadn’t moved, it was the bed that had moved. Was still moving. His eyes opened to light and a confusion of shapes. Motion. Upward motion. His hands gripped into the ridges of the bed cover, certain this was some kind of dream. Rushing up and up, like waking up on a roller coaster with no way to brace himself or demand to stop. His stomach lurched until he leaned up and into the feeling. Then he was soaring.

Lighter than air, he flew into a rush of emotion as a round black opening tightened near him and looked right at him. He couldn’t understand how the blackness was looking at him, until he took in the fact that it was constricted by an iris. Pupil, iris. Eye. 

Once he could see the eye, it was as if a magic illusion painting shuffled all the pieces of the world back together. 

Her. His friend. Elle. Each word that came into his brain unlocked whole universes of meaning. She had done this to him. His whole body trembled, coming awake with a rage that astounded him. His eyes felt somehow as wide as her own. He stared up at her and shuddered and remembered.

The rage subsided like a crashing wave hitting the rocky shoreline, finding substance, and retreating. The substance was his memory of pleasure. He had loved it. By all that was holy, he had loved every moment of everything she had done to him. He choked on it, the promise of tears stinging at his eyes but producing no tears. As if his body had been wrung completely dry of sweat and tears and cum and logic and humanity. 

But here he was. He felt almost like a person again. He had been pleasure itself, for a long, blissful moment. Now what was he? He felt so small. So impossibly, mind-breakingly small. 

“Ryan,” she said. A warm voice. So comforting, soft, but all encompassing. He was small, but she was here. 

Just as the effect of her voice faded, something more intimate opened to him. She was here. Her emotions tiptoed in beside his mind, cautious at first and then with more power. Pride, happiness, power, a kind of empathic joy. Afterglow. Pleasure. Amusement. 

It was her kindness that brought him back to himself. As if part of her was speaking to part of him, holding him steady like a friend who’d gotten a little too drunk to make his legs work. Go easy on yourself, the feeling seemed to say. Be gentle. Be kind. 

“It’s okay, Ryan. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m going to rinse you off, okay? We’re someplace private.”

Water cascaded from some unknowable place high, high above him. A torrent. Maybe it was a few drops? He couldn’t know, but braced himself and tried to focus on being grateful for the water carrying away everything that had coated him. He coughed and wiped his face, then ran a hand through his hair and down over his legs. It helped him feel a little more grounded in his body. He was still here, still real flesh and blood. The water flowed away, leaving him glistening and shivering again, but cleaner. Clearer in his mind, somehow.

His eyes tried to take her in, and as he looked more and took in more of his surroundings, he understood that he was laying not on a bed but a fingertip. His hands unclenched immediately and brushed over the soft ridged surface with awe. He remembered being small enough to be lost in these ridges.

He could still feel what she felt, and that was most grounding of all. She reacted to his awe with a kind of awe of her own, flavored with pride. She was proud of him.

He glowed. And as he filled to the brim with pride in himself, his body grew, too. He gasped, shivering with the warmth running through his arms and legs. He grew some more. He ran his hands over more of his body and paused when he touched his fingertips to the collar that had started this whole adventure. He could’ve tugged on it at any time to end the impossible ordeal he’d just endured. And yet… Surprising himself by laughing, he grew some more. He tumbled off her thumb and into her palm. 

“You did so good, Ryan,” Elle said, beaming down at him. Her face was still enormous, but even billboard-sized features were a welcome relief after his previous mind-altering sizes. “I felt so powerful and amazing, and you were the reason for that. You gave me so much pleasure.”

“I did so well, Elle!” he shouted up at her. It was her turn to laugh, and that set him off too. 

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling back to yourself, my dear, tiny, professor. You did so, so well.”


Published inEroticaShort FictionWriting


  1. Olo Olo

    I really appreciate the educational aspects of your writing, Elle, both fiction and non-. Size fantasy has been my window onto BDSM, and your experience and patience add new dimensions every time.

    I note that this story might not be considered strictly “micro” in that Ryan and Elle enjoy an emotional connection—what you call their “bond”—that permits important communication even when he is too small and too flesh-immured for normal interaction. It’s not always present, and, importantly, it is solely at Elle’s discretion, but it preserves the intimacy that makes the story work.

    the harder she used him the more he wanted to lose himself within her completely, to truly become her toy, to please her, to not just beg for her praise but to become the very thing, the very essence of her pleasure

    Oh yes this. Elle taking her pleasure from Ryan is in fact an act of immense generosity. I can’t imagine a more seductive invitation than, “Lose yourself within me.”

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