(Content tags: this article contains discussion of sex, masturbation, mental health diagnoses, C-PTSD, size dysmorphia and AiWS, dissociation, burnout, panic attacks, grief, and shame, balanced with a variety of positive emotions like gratitude, hope, and determination.)
Instructions for Living A Life:
Be astonished. Tell about it.
Achievements in context
This has been a difficult year for so many. As I see the 2022 retrospectives roll past on the timeline, I feel a mix of pride in myself and my own accomplishments, and a wish that I could put some of it in context for anyone else out there who also feels inadequate. If you feel like you haven’t done enough, or if you’re afraid to take a break because you won’t be productive, this is for you.
This year I wrote more fiction than I ever have in my life, more than 120,000 words. That’s clocking in at 2.4 NaNoWriMos! I published 80,000 words to this blog. I recorded and edited six author-read audio tracks. I also wrote a significant amount of nonfiction, including three free community resources, one of which I presented at SizeCon.
I’m very proud of this achievement. And a lot of it has only been possible because my life happened to fall apart in a very specific way. There’s some socioeconomic privilege at work here, and other factors I won’t share for privacy reasons.
My life was in upheaval this year. I experienced two traumatic losses, one of which was to due to COVID in spite of vaccines and boosters. When the living situation at our last place became untenable, my polycule moved again for the second year in a row. I burned out completely on my entire nonprofit career, had two full breakdowns, and took five hiatuses from Twitter/writing that amounted to at least six months of “unproductive” rest and healing.
“Woman, in Ecstasy” follows the story of a woman on a date with her boyfriend at a museum of sex. He convinces her to volunteer as part of a kinky art installation, where she grows, shrinks, and becomes a horny slut at the mercy of strangers—one of whom has eyes on her boyfriend. Read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.
In Chapter 3, Noelle grows in more ways than one as she lets go of her stress and focuses on what matters most, like doing whatever it takes to be fucked to climax.
I’ll be unveiling this story in five chapters, each one lewder than the last. I’m proud to be able to offer author-read audio for each installment. This is a way to ensure increased accessibility for members of the kink community who use screen readers, and adds some extra sexiness for my fellow audiophiles.
(Discussion of agency, bodily autonomy; nonconsensual themes in size play, hypnosis, mind control and bimbofication; mentions of trauma and resources for survivors of sexual assault.)
Why am I writing a story about a woman losing her agency? Why am I releasing it right now?
The short answer is that I began writing this back in April, and it’s done, and I want to share it.
The medium answer? My body responds to fantasies about giving up control, especially when I’m stressed. I’m far from alone in this. Many people have fantasies about someone forcing them to do the sexy things they find most arousing. My first kink-informed therapist told me that she believed “it’s a way to give ourselves permission to explore pleasures that society tells us are taboo.”
In recent months, I’ve been stressing a lot about bodily autonomy. Sometimes we want to avoid stressful topics when we explore erotic things. Other times, it feels really good to use stressful topics in erotic ways, to process our feelings and reclaim a sense of agency.
True, it’s ironic I’m reaffirming my agency by writing a story eroticizing a loss of control and bodily autonomy… but it’s still my choice. I wrote this story on my terms, to explore these themes in ways that feel really good to me. (Literally, each time I had to make a decision about where to take the story, I chose the option that turned my body on the most.) I’m releasing the story now in the hopes that if someone else out there needs to process stress in this way too, it’s here.
I’ve written about this elsewhere, but it’s worth repeating what I learned from her:
Having fantasies where sex acts are forced on you or others does not mean you want to act on them in real life, or that you do not understand trauma or lack compassion for survivors of violence. It means your body responds to a fantasy, and you get to decide what you want to do with that information. We are not our thoughts, and we are not our fantasies. Some survivors find healing and liberation through exploration of noncon fantasies, and that’s okay. Some never want to interact with these themes again, and that’s okay too. As long as every real person involved in your fantasy play (such as you reading my story online) is a fully informed consenting adult, then the act you are participating in is inherently consensual.
A fantasy that I have for myself, or that I share with my consenting partner, is inherently consensual. That’s true even if the topic of the fantasy is pretending that I’m being forced against my will. If I fantasize that a Giant picks me up and shoves me in her panties without asking first, I am consenting to my own fantasy. If I explain my fantasy and ask my partner to roleplay that with me and they say yes, they are consenting to my fantasy. All the real people involved are able to say no and stop the fantasy at any point.
For the record. Beyond the realm of fantasy, I do not condone sex acts without consent. Erotic fantasy play between two individuals in reality in person and online should always include negotiation, fully informed consent, and protections such as content tags, safewords, aftercare, and emergency planning.
If you or anyone you know has experienced sexual harassment, trauma, abuse, or assault, I strongly suggest seeking advice and counseling from trained professionals. These are usually free and confidential. See my blog post for a full list of resources for survivors.
We really need to take care of each other and ourselves right now. Be gentle with yourself. Set boundaries. Figure out how your body in particular asks you for different kinds of rest, like mental downtime or peace and quiet. Find ways to listen. If your brain and body don’t feel good about reading this story right now—if “all parts of yourself don’t consent to exploring this today” like my EMDR therapist would put it—then it’s okay to say no. You can come back later and see if your brain and body give you a different answer on a different day. It’s okay if it stays a no.
The most important thing is to listen to your body and decide what’s right for you. After all, no matter how much we fantasize otherwise, you’re the only one who can decide what’s right for you.
Artwork & shout-outs
I’m thrilled and deeply grateful to @pseudo_size for creating this GORGEOUS and sexy render art of one of my favorite moments in the story.
It’s no exaggeration to say that this story would not be what it is without pseudo and his help. His skill and empathy in beta reading, his insight into character development, story arcs, strengths and vulnerabilities, all of it helped me tell the story I was trying to tell.
Please go check out his art and writing, including a new story he began sharing for Pride Month, Holding Space. It’s one of the sexiest stories I’ve ever read in the size kink community.
Inspiration for this story comes partly from a place that’s been on my bucket list for years, The Vagina Museum. It’s hardly the only museum of sex, but it is the world’s first bricks-and-mortar museum “dedicated to the gynaecological anatomy.” Learn how to support their work in my introduction to Chapter 1 (and discover why I’ve chosen to depict nonprofits in this way).
Support the author
Money is tight right now. I have twelve works of fiction in progress, ranging from wholesome to kinky as fuck. I’d like to continue releasing them here for free.
If you enjoy this story and want to see/hear more like it, the best way to do that is to support me financially. (The second best way is to boost the signal on my stories and encourage your friends to support me, too.) Thanks, y’all!
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. I welcome help in tagging—please let me know when I have missed anything important.
Tags for the story overall will include:
F/m/f, f/M/F, f/F – (shrinking, growth, public play, exhibitionism, breast & ass expansion, humiliation, objectification, dubcon/noncon, mind control, intelligence play/bimbofication, hypnosis, begging, orgasm denial, jealousy, cuckolding, BDSM, voyeurism, masturbation, entrapment, claustrophobia mention, licking, sucking on fingers and feet, kisses, insertion, cunnilingus, penetration, and “bigger on the inside” magic for fucking tinies.)
Tags for this chapter in particular include:
F/m/f, f/M/F – (shrinking, growth, public play, exhibitionism, breast & ass expansion, humiliation, objectification, dubcon/noncon, mind control, intelligence play/bimbofication, begging, orgasm denial, cuckolding, BDSM, entrapment, claustrophobia mention, and “bigger on the inside” magic for fucking tinies.)
Read the story
AUDIO VERSION: Listen to an 18-minute author-read version of the story here.
I recorded this audio in a single take, and this is my first time editing my own audio, so please go easy on me. If you’d like to help me buy a bonafide mic and a pop filter to make the sound quality better for future recordings, I’d welcome donations of any size.
TEXT VERSION: Read the text version of the story behind the cut.
Last weekend I reached 700 followers as @mightytinygiant on Twitter, and have decided to celebrate by sharing two things that are important to me. After nearly half a year on hiatus to heal from depression, it’s good to be back. I’m grateful for all the support I’ve received and the messages urging me to take care of myself. The writer is worth more than what they write.
The first thing I’m thrilled to share is this gorgeous portrait of me by the talented and friendly DTV_art. I have admired her work for years, since I first laid eyes on her Tumblr treasure trove of lovely queer Giantess girlfriends and sizeshifter boyfriends and so many gorgeous Giant/tiny moments. Trust me, she is so incrediblyskilled and talented and awesome and her work is queer-friendly and romantic AF. I am humbled by the way she took my photograph and translated me into my most femme-tastic witchy woman sizeshifter self. As of this writing, she is still open for commissions!
The second celebratory tidbit I’m sharing with you lovely folks today is one of my favorite pieces of writing, first shared on Tumblr, January 12, 2016. I was struggling then with depression and size dysmorphia, just like I have been this year. I have made huge strides this summer with therapy—thank the Gods for sex-positive, kink-positive, polyam-friendly therapy—and for insurance to help me afford it. More people should have access to that kind of healing.
That support has given me the hope I needed to delve into my feelings about my body and my writing. I’ve been revisiting what I love most about what I’ve written. I’ve been working on befriending my body and accepting that the way she feels large or small may actually be healthy for me, even if it’s not a thing people commonly feel. Commissioning a portrait of myself as a new avatar is part of that work, and I’m grateful for DTV working with me to get it right.
It’s okay to feel small. It’s okay to feel large. It’s okay to take up whatever space you need to take up, in this world. I need this reminder now, as much as I ever have. Maybe you do, too.
Sometimes when you grow, you’re scared of ruining your clothes or destroying your favorite pair of shoes. Sometimes you’re just scared of how they constrict you, how a necklace could choke you or a beloved coat could trap you like a straight-jacket. But not always.
Sometimes when you grow, shredding through your layers of fabric and fashion feels better than breaking a chain with your bare hands. You’re no longer made for the world of thrift shop jeans or business casual blouses. You can stop worrying if it looks wrong. It belongs to the person you used to be when you still apologized for taking up space.
Small wonder, then, when you stretch your shoulders just to feel the seams tear. When you breathe deeply so the hooks on your bra unbend themselves, unable to hold the glory of your breasts as they grow in size, weight, and consequence. You roll your hips and savor the shredding sound of that pencil skirt you used to love, which has been too small for far too long. It slips to the ground like a memory, followed quickly by the remains of your panties. The lace surrendered by unknitting itself. It wasn’t up to the task of containing the beauty of your other massive assets.
Tearing through the leather on your high heels seems almost obscene, but deep down you offer it like a sacrifice. Your bare feet fill the ground with presence. The crown of your head lifts above the crowd where you walked alone in your smallness.
You feel your own beauty as you never have before. With awe and gratitude and no regrets. You see the world differently and know yourself fully as you grow in all directions, pushing outward, but especially upward.
You have every right to stand tall no matter your size. Breathe deeply in the body that bears your heart, and never apologize again.
Content warnings: some NSFW artwork and language, discussion of body dysmorphic disorder, gender dysphoria, grief, gun violence, depression, neurodivergence, kink, microphilia, macrophilia, and shame
See my Size Dysmorphia / Size Euphoria page for a shorter introduction to these concepts and updated information after my 2021 diagnosis of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome.
Introduction: arguments with my body
It won’t surprise you that I’m sitting at a table in a chair with my feet on the ground, while my hands type comfortably on a laptop. You—and most of the people who know and love me—might be intrigued to know that my senses also tell me I can lift my hand and touch the ceiling with no trouble, because it’s dangerously close to brushing my head.
Would you like me to open the front door, fifteen feet away? It’s within easy reach. Or, at least, that’s the argument my body makes.
My senses agree I’m sitting at the table in the usual way, but they also feed me contradictory information about the walls seeming to close in around me, about how there’s no space for my knees and legs between the table and the wall, no way this chair should be able to support my weight, and no way that my fingers could possibly type on a laptop that feels like a toy for a doll.
If I close my eyes, the sensation intensifies and logic takes a backseat to a kinesthetic awareness of overwhelming size. Some days I feel overwhelming smallness instead, as if everything is huge and heavy and beyond my isolated reach.
Luckily for me, if I open my eyes again, I’m able to use the visual information to combat the strange, contradictory physical information. I concentrate on the evidence of my eyes and wage a war against my kinesthetic senses—the same kind of battle I’ve been fighting quietly since childhood.
In some circles, this experience is known as size dysmorphia: a sense that your body’s size feels larger or smaller than you know it to be.
I know that I stand five feet, two inches tall. I know that my body does not change in size. And yet, it’s as if some ancient part of my brain and body refuse to completely accept this data.
Sometimes it happens without warning, like a radio shifting channels and offering music and static from two different stations. Sometimes I go for days without noticing anything unusual, my broadcast uninterrupted on a steady playlist of “five-foot-two” with no interruptions.
When I feel a sizeshift coming on, sometimes I groan inwardly and grit my teeth. Other times, I try to induce the feeling myself, just for the sheer joy and arousal and exhilaration of it. Few sensations are as empowering as a sense that you stand twice as tall as everyone around you.
Until about three years ago, I refused to tell anyone.
Call me Elle Largesse. I’m a sizshifting bisexual polyamorous kinky erotica writer who made my presence known to the “Giant/tiny” community on Tumblr in December of 2015. That community became the safe haven that helped me cope with size dysmorphia, embrace my sexuality, and find new multitudes within myself.
Three years and ten days after beginning this experiment in sensuality, I created this privately hosted website to continue the conversation and share my work on my own terms, with less threat of censorship.
This blog is mostly NSFW / 18 & up only. You’ll find original writing and collages, and occasional RP. Topics covered include shrinking and growth, microphilia and macrophilia.
My name is Elle and my pronouns are she/her. I’m fine with Ms. Elle, Mistress Elle, etc. but please DO NOT CALL ME GODDESS. Ask before you assume my size.
I have a thing for licking, lips, insertion, breast expansion, and obscenely large cocks. I like very softcore “pre-vore” like tongue and mouth play, and that’s about it. I’m not into hardcore violence but I have complex feelings about nonconsensual acts and a bit of a crush on butt crushes. Beware the puns.