Welcome back! I’m pleased to release my next installment of this gentle erotic love story between two sizeshifters at a coffeeshop. They decide to tease and dare each other not to grow while in public. They’re just friends, haha… unless~
In this chapter, Jess tries to be good and think through her feelings. But she’s impulsive at heart. Multiple surprises put her—and Rae—into a tight spot.
About This Story
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. (Can you spot the influence on Chapter 3?) 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? She’s on hiatus as of this writing in January 2023, but please go follow her! 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.
I’m also thrilled to say that I was able to commission her for a new work of art to celebrate the sixth and final chapter, and she knocked it out of the park. It is sexy and romantic and I can hardly wait to share it with you all!!
In fact, seeing her complete the new artwork in December was one of the things that made me yearn to come back to this story again. Creatives helping creatives is one of my favorite parts of the Size Twitter community.
Here’s a closeup of her original art 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, chocolate, cake, strawberry, singing, music, handheld, body exploration, panties, cunnilingus, insertion, trans femme masturbation, full-body licks, breast play, aftercare
Tags for Chapter 4 include:
F/f, CF/tf – Growth, shrinking, gentle, public play, pocket riding, romance, feelings, relationship, the L-word, love, food, food play, chocolate, cake, strawberry, singing, music, handheld, body exploration, panties
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 4: Straddling a Strawberry
By Elle Largesse
Copyright 2023, all rights reserved.
She knew me well.
I wanted to escape so badly that I felt like a caged creature. I wanted to climb up into her cleavage. I wanted to beg her to take me back into her mouth. I wanted to stroke my sore nipples (which were being constantly stimulated by the weave pattern in the cotton, dammit, very distracting) and I wanted to lay back in the hammock of her far larger breasts. To talk to her about sexy, inconsequential things. Maybe while she grew slowly in the sunlight.
But it was nearly 4 am. I couldn’t climb out without help. I couldn’t distract myself with writing or editing. There was nothing here to count, except by touching threads in the dark. There was no sunlight, no more growing, and her breasts were literally beyond my reach, even if their softness made part of my prison.
And she’d given me homework. What a fucking Taurus thing to do, I fumed. And not just any homework, but relationship homework.
“Okay. Let’s just look at this straight on.” My heart did a backflip in my chest and I laughed weakly. “Gayly ahead, please.”
It came down to one simple fact. Rae deserved someone willing to work for her.
I took a deep breath. I sank down to a cross-legged position at the bottom of her pocket, held her sweet-tooth skittle to my chest, and lay back against a breast that was probably four times in diameter to my own current height. Twelve inches to my three inches, I estimated. The numbers helped.
I focused on what she had said.
I got to work.
Ten minutes may not sound like a lot of time to decide my romantic future, but I like to think of myself as an expert at off-the-cuff, last-minute decisions. Nothing inspires me like a deadline, and this was no exception.
I heard her talking with the barista, of course. Something about having a friend overseas and needing a quiet place to take calls. Beyond that, I didn’t really register anything else she said.
I focused on what I knew of my friend, sorting through memories to create a list of questions. Numbered, of course.
- Is Rae good to her girlfriends?
- Did we become friends because of the way we met?
- Why friends and not girlfriends?
- Am I going to get hurt?
- Do I care?
- There wasn’t much data on Rae and her girlfriends. She was usually private when it came to her feelings, and doubly so with relationships. I knew she had been in a long-term partnership when we met. I knew from context clues that the breakup had been hard. By the time she trusted me enough to open up to me, she’d moved beyond the breakup. She had been single ever since.
- We met at a potluck featuring the sexually-charged finale of the show Sense8. I had brought a six pack of whatever, but she’d brought a whole bag of oranges that she peeled by hand for everyone. I remember the look on her face when her peel-stained fingers touched my palm and our skin-on-skin contact revealed what we were to each other. Sizeshifters. The welcome surprise in her gaze. The way the orange tasted as I smiled at her. We’ve talked many times about how lonely it is being born into an ancient, secret community when you’re different in other ways. To find another queer shifter my own age had felt almost too good to be true.
- We had pretended nonchalance, pretended to watch the show. But we were really anticipating what came afterward, as the host had promised to end the night with an “ace-friendly no-sex cuddle party.” As the credits rolled, music poured into a room full of people who were suddenly singing along, laughing, and cuddling. Rae and I had moved closer, still nameless to each other, but shifting from strangers to friends in a moment. Sliding into her arms was like coming home.
- So why the hell didn’t I try to hook up with her directly after? Why didn’t I dive headfirst into a heartbreaking disaster with this beautiful, entrancing sizeshifter? That one was easy. In my experience, romance was the place where connection went suffocate.
- Friendships, on the other hand. Those could and did last lifetimes. At the time, I needed the home of her hug more than I needed the heat of her kiss.
- New question. What if I could have both?
- Am I going to get hurt? Probably.
I was musing on the sixth and final question, “Do I care?” when I felt my pocket swaying in the rhythm of her walk. A wide swooping motion told me she had settled back into place on the couch.
I held the skittle to my stomach as Rae’s hand appeared above me. Her hand sank into the space with me, then waited, motionless. I squeezed the edge of a finger three times. At this signal, her hand curled gently around my legs, hips, and stomach, lifting me effortlessly up and into the light.
This time, I remembered the bet and didn’t even open my mouth. I knelt in her hand, the skittle tucked under one arm like a purse, my other around her index finger to steady myself. I glanced at her ruler tattoo, but resisted the urge to try and measure myself by it. Without knowing her current height, all my calculations would be estimates.
She lifted and soared me across the canyon of space between her and the plateau of the coffee table. I saw she had asked for a to-go container for the cake and grinned as she propped open the top to help shield me from view.
Up close, the chocolate cake inside looked positively decadent. Rae tilted her hand and let me dismount with dignity, but that fragile feeling was soon lost as I peered up at the four layers of chocolate buttercream. Hard to feel dignified when I didn’t even come up to eye-level with the third layer.
It was like approaching a geographical feature that looked pretty from far away, and up close was far more intimidating than you bargained for. The stratifications of moist cake and creamy frosting were set off by slices of strawberry set like rubies buried in stone, and the whole wedge of cake was covered with a detritus of chocolate chips and toasted pecans. More strawberries, sliced and whole, lay scattered around the cake like gleaming red treasure.
Without hesitation, I reached forward and used my hand like a scoop to grab a fistful from the edge. Rae wasn’t waiting, either. “Fork on your left,” she murmured, and a plastic fork the size of my torso plunged into the other side of the cake. I was no stranger to forks twice my height, and focused instead on enjoying my handful of cake.
The chocolate was exquisite. A large piece of pecan—well, large to me, anyway—crunched a perfect contrast with the chewy, fluffy cake. The frosting was even better. A creamy, sugary delight that made me want to go back for seconds before I had even finished what I held.
I hummed happily and paced barefoot on the paper container. When I came to a strawberry the size of a coffee table, I sank down onto it. Straddling it. I smirked up at Rae, practically out of habit, and then caught myself. She’d asked me to stop sexy things for the time being. I relaxed my features, focused on my cake, and wondered how often I flirted with her without even thinking.
Rae wasn’t paying attention, which was okay by me. Her eyelids had fluttered shut and she was moaning as she savored her fifth bite. Not loud, not lewd, but Rae was unmistakably enjoying a deeply appreciative foodgasm. She was like that. Food wasn’t her weakness, it was her triumph. Her superpower. You know, aside from the ability to outgrow any kitchen she set foot in, that is. The look of bliss on her face filled me with happiness for her. She looked the way I felt when I…
I froze in the process of licking frosting off my fingers.
When I touched her.
She looked the way I felt when I saw her from across a room or a parking lot or—far more rarely—a mountain range.
She looked the way I felt when she’d pounded on the door of the sculptor’s art studio and demanded to see me, and my heart had lifted until it was in my throat, lodged completely, wordlessly in place until I was safely in her pocket, safely on the way home, safe, safe, safe.
Not suffocated. She hadn’t forced me to leave. She had paid attention when I didn’t check in on time, and she had acted on it by coming to give me a chance to opt out, which was not something the sculptor had cared about.
Rae had given me the freedom to choose, to escape.
My eyes pricked with heat and the lightness in my chest filled with words that I didn’t know how to speak. I licked my hand as clean as I could, barely tasting the sugar anymore.
I realized I was still holding the skittle. In a daze I let it slide to the floor of the container, only now noticing the color. Orange.
Rae took another forkful and smiled beatifically down at me, like some room-sized Renaissance painting of a goddess of culinary joy. Her eyebrows came together, her smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and again, she moaned. Did she even know she was doing it? Or that she was doing this deeper, more impossible thing, to my heart?
“Rae, I love you.” The words felt like the most natural thing in the world to say. It terrified me, but I didn’t regret saying them.
Her eyes widened and locked onto me. She swallowed. Twice.
“But you just lost the bet,” she blurted. A laugh bounced out of my mouth, and she coughed. From the way she glanced up and around the room, I could see that maybe we had attracted some attention. She reached for a mug of tea that was almost as large as the cake. It was still dwarfed in her massive hands as she levitated it over my head like a spaceship.
I beamed at her as she took a long slow sip and set it back down. She cleared her throat, but then looked at me helplessly. It’s an amazing thing, to make a giantess so flustered she doesn’t know what to say. This time, when the impulse to smirk came to me, I let it spread slowly and sensually across my face for her.
I leaned forward, placing my hands on the strawberry and feeling the seeds prickle under my palms and thighs as I moved. I crooked a finger at her, gesturing to her to come closer.
She leaned forward, practically bursting out of her overalls. When I could feel her breath, I did something I knew would fluster her. I broke into song.
If you gave me a chance, I would take it
It’s a shot in the dark, but I’ll make it
I swayed my shoulders and tossed my braid over my shoulder, singing as if we were at a karaoke night and had a room to ourselves.
Know with all of your heart, you can’t shame me
When I am with you, there’s no place I’d rather be.
She turned red, nearly as red as the strawberry between my naked thighs. Her eyes darted up and around the room, then back to me. I didn’t care if anyone heard me. For all they knew, she was watching a video or on a Zoom call or something. It didn’t matter. I knew it was impulsive, but this whole night had been a long string of ridiculously bad ideas. I didn’t care.
I repeated the last line again, more slowly. “When I am with you, there’s no place I’d rather be.”
She reached for me. Her truly enormous index finger stroked over the top of my head and pressed very softly against my cheek. I smiled, dizzy, my insides sparkling with something more intense than a sugar high from a fistful of cake. Rae had touched me many, many times. We’re sizeshifters. Touch is a necessity, a way of life.
But it had never meant… whatever this meant. Girlfriend.
She was blinking away tears and looked as if she’d just tasted the best cake of her life. “That’s the song, isn’t it? The night we met?”
I nodded, proud that I’d managed to sing it without any karaoke backup track to guide me. Nothing but these goddamned feelings to get me through it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt—” a voice came from high up and beyond the laptop.
I had just enough time to look up and over my shoulder to see the barista approaching. Much closer, the movie-screen-sized laptop showed me a different angle of Rae’s face, which flitted from euphoric to surprised, afraid, and then an attempt at innocence.
Her hand closed around me, engulfing me entirely. She was gentle but quick as she plucked me from my strawberry perch. I’m not sure why she didn’t just close the lid of the cake box, but maybe by some instinct she wanted me close to her.
I was pretty sure she was trying to shove me in her hip pocket. What she achieved instead was shoving me in the narrow gap of space between her overalls and her body. The soft swell of her stomach rose beneath me as her hand retreated, hesitated, and then pulled away entirely.
“No worries,” Rae said, managing to come off like she was, in fact, at least 75% worries. “How can I help you?” She delivered that last in the customer service voice she defaulted to when working in the restaurant industry.
I slipped down the slope of her stomach until I found the elastic of her panties, stretched taut from our earlier excitement. I caught the edge with both hands and tried to hold still. The denim was at my back and the last thing we needed was to draw a human’s eyes to Rae’s lap right now.
“I wanted to make sure you knew your headphones came unplugged,” the other woman said. “Sounds like you were listening to some music?”
“Oh! Whoops!” Rae said. “Thanks!”
She moved, and the underside of her breast grazed the top of my head as she leaned forward. My heart raced as I clung to her panties, her skin and scent all around me. There was a clicking sound nearby as she unplugged my headphones and plugged them back in.
“I must have tugged the cord out, sorry about that. It was that zoom call I told you about. To Tokyo.” The professional voice had evaporated without a clear script to follow, but I didn’t mind. It was rare for her to get chatty when nervous—that was usually my specialty—and I thought she sounded really cute when she couldn’t stop talking.
“My friend was singing,” she continued. “And. Well. She got so embarrassed that she logged off right after.” Light laughter made Rae’s abdomen jump underneath me. “But I’m sure she’ll be back. I’ll try to keep my voice down, sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s all good. That’s really cool of you to stay up all night to talk to your friend.”
Rae paused. “She’s actually more than that. I think she might want to be my. Um. Girlfriend.”
A huge shape slid close on the other side of the denim. Three casual taps. It was our nonverbal signal for yes.
She was asking me a question. Girlfriend. Yes?
It was my turn to let out a nervous laugh. Soon I was chuckling, then laughing so hard it was almost impossible to stay silent. I buried my face in Rae’s big, warm body, giggling helplessly, then clung to her one-handed so I could tap three times.
Shifting from friends to girlfriends in a moment. While clinging to her panties.
“Oh, wow! Congrats,” the barista said. “Long distance can be so hard. I once dated someone I met on a gardening subreddit, he had this sexy Welsh accent and was really into succulents, like even more than me, which is saying something. See what I mean?”
“Oh, that’s gorgeous ink,” Rae said politely. I turned my head and tried to peer through the fabric to see what body part, exactly, this other woman was revealing to my new girlfriend. But to see through something as thick as this denim, I would need bright sunshine and the ability to hold the fabric taut. I huffed.
“Anyway, we had a ton in common and the passion was there, but it can be hard to feel close without that physical component, you know?”
My laughter shifted to a smirk. As the other woman continued, I hauled myself up with both hands and scrambled to the top of the elastic. Kneeling awkwardly there, I pulled it open and slipped my legs inside. I paused, grinning wickedly, and gave three clear taps. Yes?
It took Rae fully thirty seconds to respond. She was often like that. The anchor to my impulsiveness. The cautious one who said we should take a moment to think things through before launching into my latest idiotic idea. But when she committed, bless her, she committed all the way. I loved that about her. I loved her.
I smiled to myself in the darkness of her clothes. My girlfriend’s clothes. Had I really just told her I loved her? Part of me wanted to scream and bolt for the nearest exit at the gravity of that word. But it was a much smaller part than it used to be. And just because a word had weight to it, didn’t make it bad.
Three slow taps.
She’d made her choice. Now I made mine. I pulled the elastic back open and slid into another layer of darkness, allowing the gravity of my girlfriend pull me down, closer, deeper into her orbit.