I am so incredibly excited to release this gentle erotic love story between two women at a coffeeshop. They’re both sizeshifters, and decide to tease and dare each other not to grow while in public. They’re just friends, haha… unless~
Skip to the story content section if you want to jump right in.
This began as a Kinky Scribble, but I found myself so enamored with the characters and the way they were enamored with each other, that I allowed myself the luxury of months to write and explore. To go more in depth, you know. (Pun intended.)
I was so excited to write this story that I sought out Girl Sex 101 by Allison Moon and K.D. Diamond to better understand and write about the way women have sex. I may have been in more than one relationship with other women, but I also have an inkling of just how much I don’t know. I keep meaning to start blogging my book reviews, but if you’re interested, I kept up a twitter thread with my thoughts on the book and its value to anyone who wants to have sex with women. I found the “Embodied Yes” and “Difficult Conversation Formula” sections especially useful. The pages on techniques for hand sex and oral sex with different kinds of bodies are definitely dog-eared and already well-loved in my house. It’s such a wonderful resource!
I commissioned art for this story by the lovely LadyEgg. Isn’t it gorgeous and so sweet? Her comms are open from now until November 7th, so please go support her if you are able! She is lovely to work with, and has been so kind and patient with me on not releasing the art for the five months it took me to finish rewrites and edits. Here’s a closeup to enjoy.
I also commissioned a sensitivity read with Ana Valens, a reporter and member of the size kink community. She gave me feedback and additional insight on my pairing between a cisgender woman and a transgender woman. I’m pleased to report that she said it was “incredibly hot and well written,” and that she “utterly adored it.” I’m grateful for her suggested changes and nuance on experiences that hopefully made this story stronger and more true to life for trans women.
When I asked her thoughts on tags for this and for my latest article, “Content Tags: Accessibility, Edgeplay, & Surprise Sex,” she recommended I use either F/f or CF/tf in my gender tags. Though TF is also used for transformation kink, we decided that having it in the slash format would clear that up, and she pointed out that TF is commonly used at places like r/GoneWildAudio and r/GWASapphic. As of this writing, Ana is open for more sensitivity readings on: kinky relationships, lesbian relationships, trans women & trans feminine experiences, and queer friendship.
Friendly reminder: if you seek out a sensitivity reader to help you gain more perspective on your work, please pay or barter with them. Do not ask for free labor on this, even if they are your friend. Perhaps especially so!
This story will run for six chapters, ranging from 1200 to 3400 words each, with content tags for each chapter as well as for the story as a whole. I plan to release them weekly. Here’s a teaser for you:
- Chapter 1: Going Right For It
- Chapter 2: Inside Her Mouth
- Chapter 3: Mixing Signals
- Chapter 4: Straddling A Strawberry
- Chapter 5: Mapping Her Pleasure
- Chapter 6: Touch Yourself for Me
(Discussion of food play, mouth play, and vore.)
A note to my readers who enjoy size kink associated with food, with the full-body kissing we call mouth play, and with oral vore. I greatly enjoy the first two topics, but for me the third topic is a hard limit. For whatever reason, my body does not respond in a sexy way to oral vore and this story will not go in that direction.
In the past when I have talked about how badly I want to be inside someone’s mouth, or how a partner licking my finger makes me feel instantly small because of my beloved mouthplay fantasies, I have been called a “tease” for not taking the “logical next step” to make it vore. That has made me reluctant to play in these ways for years. But sometimes people enjoy food and mouth play for their own sake, as more than just foreplay for vore. They’re two of my all-time favorite topics and I think it’s time for me to reclaim my love for them.
So this is my disclaimer that I am not trying to be a tease, just wanting to enjoy my loves of erotic food and mouth play more often, on my own terms. I fully support and celebrate anyone with a vore kink who wants to imagine this story with those themes, and I ask that you use the content tag “vore” for any discussion on posts that tag my username. Thank you! Happy reading~
Tagging is the only way I know for people online to be able to opt in or out of a sexual experience with fully informed consent. Learn more about why and how to use content tags, and browse tags important to the size kink community in my article “Content Tags: Accessibility, Edgeplay, & Surprise Sex.”
I welcome help in tagging—please let me know when I have missed anything important.
Tags for this story include:
F/f, CF/tf – Growth, shrinking, gentle, public play, teasing, mention of foot play, mild dissociation, so much sexual tension, a panic attack averted, pocket riding, hand held, romance, feelings, relationship, the L-word, love, licking fingers, kissing, mouth play, food play, body exploration, cunnilingus, insertion, trans femme masturbation, full-body licks, breast play, aftercare
Tags for Chapter 1 include:
F/f, CF/tf – Growth, shrinking, gentle, public play, teasing, mention of foot play, mild dissociation, so much sexual tension
Read the story
TEXT VERSION: Read the text version of the story behind the cut.
AUDIO VERSION: I am saving up to commission a voice actor to read this story. If you’re as excited by that as I am, please buy me a coffee to help it become a reality sooner!
Chapter 1: Going Right For It
By Elle Largesse
Copyright 2022, all rights reserved.
Maybe it was the 3 AM latte, and maybe it was the way Rae’s hand-embroidered overalls slipped off one shoulder. Maybe it was the worst idea I’d ever had at a late-night writing session. And maybe—definitely—my favorite.
I set my cup next to hers. Almost touching. Then I joined her on the couch, also almost touching. I leaned close to her ear.
“I dare you to hold human size while I kiss your neck.”
Rae took a sharp breath. She held as still as the night outside the windows, but her eyes slid towards me.
The sudden pause was striking, after her hours of hypnotic needlework. It was her preferred way to keep me company in our favorite late night coffeeshop as I tackled my daily word count. Last week she’d embroidered “fucksticks” and sunflowers across a jean jacket. Tonight she was crocheting something small and complicated that she set on the table by our cups.
I waited, hovering in her space, my heart thrumming with coffee and warnings about ruining friendships and blowing our cover in public.
A slow, mischievous smile tugged up the corner of her mouth as she turned to me. “Bet I can hold out longer than you.”
I made a scoffing sound, but my hands tightened on my bare knees. I fought the urge to tug down the hem of my skirt. “My neck barely counts as erogenous territory for me.”
Now she leaned in close, too, shrinking the space between us.
“Jessica. Jess. Sweetheart. Who said anything about kissing your neck?” she asked. Her voice had settled into a deeper range. Velvety. Throaty. “I was the one who rescued you from the artist. I had to hear all about her sucking techniques.”
I cleared my throat. “She was only willing to play with my hands to get to my toes—” I said, as if that dismissed the whole embarrassing episode.
She interrupted me by holding her tattooed index finger out and lowering it into my lap. I still held my knees with both hands, and watched like a woman hypnotized as she stroked a single, featherlight line down my thigh, up my wrist and the back of my hand. She touched the top of my middle finger, then stopped as my breath caught. Grinning wickedly, she pulled away. My heart gave a thrill intense enough to leave me dizzy.
I had never explained to her that the the highlight of that “rescue” experience for me had been the ride home in her shirt pocket, laughing and talking about sex. Sure, the sculptor gal with a thing for feet had helped me discover the deeply erotic potential of my fingers in someone else’s mouth.
But the real revelation had been the excitement of confiding that in Rae. Saying the words out loud, with her heartbeat and the swell of her breast beneath my tiny nude body. Vulnerable but secure. Maybe more secure than I’d ever felt before in my whole life. Needing to be saved from a date gone wrong was on a long list of things I didn’t like to think about, but remembering the rescue itself was one of my best and safest memories.
Was I risking that, now? What if she thought I was joking? What if she didn’t like women like me? What if she was going to stand up and leave at any moment?
“Loser buys the next round?” She looked at my lips.
My best friend was looking at my lips and daring me to withstand her sensual advances while pretending to be human. In public.
Wait, no, I was the one daring her! How had she turned this around on me so quickly?
I inched closer, until my mouth was kissably close to her throat. I took a steadying breath and exhaled slowly, smiling to myself as the warmth of my breath and presence sent a shiver through her. Little bumps appeared along her arms.
And slowly, barely, she grew.
It was hardly a centimeter, nothing anyone else would have noticed in the calm of the deserted coffeeshop. I looked around anyway, just to be sure. From our couch in the corner I could see two people across the room, focused on their laptops, and a bored barista scrolling on her phone behind the counter.
I turned back to Rae with a grin. “Loser pays for the next round. Let’s plan for the winner to be the one to actually interact with the humans, just to be safe.”
“Keep your voice down,” Rae hissed. “Normies.”
“Sorry, normies,” I agreed. “I’m guessing you’ll take another London Fog? Oh! And chocolate strawberry cake.” I grinned to hear a little whimpering sigh from her. I knew her sweet tooth well, and also the state of her checking account. We rarely had enough money to justify splurging on top shelf items from the bakery case. But I often caught her looking, anyway.
“You’ll take another latte,” she said. It wasn’t a question. I rarely ordered anything else.
“Vanilla,” I replied, with a completely straight face. Rae snorted. “What? It’s a classic flavor. Loved by all.”
Rae’s eyes sparkled. “Deal, Vanilla Bean.”
We didn’t have any cash to add to the ante, so instead we slid our debit cards together into one of the safe pockets in my computer bag. Not the hidden pocket at the bottom edge. Rae had sewn that into place for me, my “last resort” hideaway with the adapted Altoid tin, tiny bottle of water, and crumble of granola.
Just a normal, ordinary pocket.
For use by paranormally extraordinary ladies.
“I’m at a disadvantage here,” she said, taking one last pull on the remains of her last London Fog. “When I cross a line, I get more noticeable. When you cross a line, you get outrageous bonuses to all stealth checks.”
I smirked at her and moved closer on the couch. “Did I or did I not hear the word ‘deal’ come out of your mouth just a minute ago?” I trailed a finger along the edge of her overalls near her hip. She wore them loose for the extra growing space, a strategy I once used myself for different reasons. That was before HRT changed some things for me. I tugged lightly on the fabric. “Honestly, babe, that sounds like a you problem now.”
She rolled her eyes at me, but she grinned while she did it. Then she leaned closer abruptly, a move that caused me to slide back without thinking. “Nuh-uh,” she said, a finger pointing at my chest. “I get the first turn at teasing. You already made me. You know.”
“What, I made you grow?” I pitched my voice a little lighter and drew the word out with a flirty flourish. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. Her size held, and she raised a taunting eyebrow in my direction.
“Okay, your turn it is.” I settled back against the couch, one arm on the back cushion, dangerously close to her shoulders. Just for sheer bratty effect, I spread my knees like I was taking up too much space on the bus. It felt good in spite of the way it pulled my miniskirt taut. Or maybe because of it.
Rae shot me a scandalous look, glancing back around the room at the two other patrons and barista who were definitely not taking the opportunity to look up the shadowy depths of my skirt. “Oh, chill. I’m wearing panties. For now.” I tugged on one of my two pink braids, smirking.
Rae visibly summoned her patience, then came closer, her face unreadable. “You’re a menace. I should honestly take you down a peg as a public service.” I tried to shoot back a smart ass joke about pegging, but found that I couldn’t make my words work. Her voice had taken on that velvet quality again, and it made me shiver and look away. So I ended up jumping when she touched my hand, then lifted it in both of hers.
I couldn’t look. Her soft skin on mine. Her breath warming my palm. I stared hard at the sign above the espresso machine, “WE FILTER COFFEE, NOT PEOPLE.”
The wet sound of her licking her lips made me swallow hard. “Going right for it, aren’t you?” I managed to ask, my eyes locked on the sign. Twenty-three white letters on a black background, with a bouquet of flowers blooming through the text.
The tip of Rae’s tongue made contact with the tip of my middle finger. I trembled. And then I shrank.
A grunt, and three of my 75 inches dissolved in a tingle of arousal and embarrassment.
“You know, I like your height,” Rae murmured. She gave my palm a gentle squeeze. “I like that on my big days, we can be tall together. But there’s something undeniably hot about watching you give it up.” Still shaking, I finally looked at her. The sight of my fingertip so close to her parted lips made me lose two more whole inches. I bit my own lip and grunted again.
She hadn’t even sucked on my finger and I was already down five fucking inches.
“Whose dumbass idea was this, again?” I said weakly.
“Yours,” Rae said. She released my hand, folded her arms across her chest, and gave me a smug smile. “Chocolate cake for breakfast, here I come.”
I glanced at my laptop to check the time. Half past four in the morning. There was no way I was going to last until breakfast.
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