Welcome to my eighth Kinky Scribble, a 2500-word shrunken woman story inspired by @GTSMarsh‘s response to this tweet. Thanks for the writing prompt, Marsh!
Celebrating International Women’s Day by embracing my #ShrunkenWoman kink & creating a profile at https://t.co/u3yZ5SK4tA, a forum for “the judge-free discussion of Giant men & tiny women.”
I’m considering writing some new M/f kinky scribbles for it, too. Any prompt suggestions? pic.twitter.com/cUnGs3MAT0
— Elle Largesse (tired) (@mightytinygiant) March 9, 2021
I also want to thank @pseudo_size for suggesting the title for this story. “Little Clara” was a great snapshot of what came through in the narrative. Thank you for seeing that and reflecting it back to me.
A Kinky Scribble is a flash-fiction writing exercise idea I’ve been developing since January 2020, as a tool to break past my anxieties as a writer. Read my past Kinky Scribbles and search the #KinkyScribble tag itself on Twitter.
The strategy is to produce creative content in a short amount of time, give it minimal edits, and then release it into the wild for others to enjoy. My goals are to practice my fiction-writing skills, to produce more content while still reconnecting with the parts of writing I enjoy most, and to re-calibrate my sense of when something is “done enough” to share.
This strategy won’t be for everyone, but it’s helping me to keep writing in a low-stakes way, and sharing stories with others. Otherwise I tend to hang onto my content for a very long time trying to perfect it, and it never sees the light of day. That’s not helpful to me, to my writing, or to my community. Better to share something imperfect, than nothing at all. I’m trying to lean into the Andy Warhol philosophy:
“Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.”
Feel free to join in and create your own kinky scribble! Don’t feel obliged to follow my same format of listing my word count and writing/editing times. It’s really useful to me to re-calibrate my time estimates, and to prove to myself that I can make good content in uncomfortably short time frames.
And speaking of comfort zones, I strongly encourage all #KinkyScribble creators to tag their content so that readers can opt in or out with fully informed consent. I’m not perfect about this, but practice has been helping, and I’m committed to doing better in the future.
“By turns sweet, sexy, and intense, this story was cathartic. Clearly it was written in the moment… from a very personal place and very real struggle. The intimacy on display was beautiful.”
I’m proud to share “Do for One,” my entry for the My Heaven October 20 SizeRiot contest, hosted by the hardworking and talented Aborigen-gts. As this was the final chapter for SizeRiot, a quarterly event that meant so much to me as a writer and size kink enthusiast, I worked especially hard to give it my best effort.
Given the hellacious year we’ve all endured, and the ways trauma can influence our sexuality, I was not able to bring myself to write about my ideal, quintessential size scenario like the contest asked us to. However, I am proud that I did rise to the occasion and craft a love story that “that twinges the heartstrings,” and a size story that makes me “feel less alone.” Thank you, Aborigen, for bringing us all full circle back to our roots, and for encouraging us to find safe havens for our minds, hearts, and bodies, even in a time of fear, grief, and isolation.
“Deeply personal”
As many readers guessed, this story comes from a deeply personal place. Facets of me and both my partners shine through in both characters. Though I changed details, the work is similar to my own career.
And although I do not actually change size like Amy, my mind gives me the sensory input that makes it feel like I am smaller or larger than reality. As with many forms of neurodivergence, some days it’s fine, some days it’s fun, some days it’s awful, and if 2020 was any indication, quarantine definitely makes it harder. If any of this sounds familiar, or if Amy’s experiences speak to you on a personal level, then you can read more about size dysmorphia in my origin story.
Do try this at home
If you feel an emotional release from this scene and are wondering if you could re-create Amy’s catharsis at home, I’m going to encourage you to read the article I wrote in July, Sexual Brakes, Trauma, & Kink in the Burning 20s.
If you’re not interested in the neuroscience of sexual brakes and accelerators or why we don’t have sex drives, you can skip to “How to stop stopping: taking your foot (and everything else) off the brake” to learn about why Amy’s catharsis works.
If you’re very low on energy and just want help, go to “Completing the cycle while (ahem) laying in bed” for my recipe on how to use size kink to achieve that catharsis. It’s not a quick fix, but I swear, this is one of the top things that has helped me manage my mental health through the pandemic.
Commissioned artwork
I am thrilled with the artwork I commissioned from TinyBoyToy, a talented artist from the #SizeTwitter community who creates gorgeous queer giant/tiny artwork. (Heads-up, they do sometimes post body horror content on their Patreon.) They are wonderful to work with, please commission them and help them reach 20 patrons so they can keep making amazing art!
Thanks also to the anonymous donor who contributed to my commission fund. I’m so grateful!
Illustration credit to @TinyBoyToy. Do not repost without permission. Click to see full image. Commission the artist and support them on Patreon at https://twitter.com/tinyboytoy
Feedback & community response
I appreciate the feedback I received for this story. As always, I’m deeply grateful to my beta readers and everyone who read my work and reviewed it.
What did people enjoy most about this story? This section is longer than I usually make it, because at least half of the feedback felt like it might have meaning for others, too. And we could all use more hope and meaning right now. Here’s what the readers had to say.
“A lovely story of partners negotiating kink and size spaces.”
“Beautifully and unforgivingly human characterization… Thoughtful use of visual descriptors manages to be both vivid yet also subdued. One of my favorites of this contest. Very fine work.”
“Fantastic feeling of frustration and being trapped by her own size. The relationship felt entirety natural and I practically felt the frustration as she fought her fury out of her and the relief at the end. An impressive ride of emotion and size entwined.”
“Deeply personal read about a familiar and infuriatingly contemporary struggle.”
“Stories like this bring some hope and light, especially in a time like this. Struggling with what you can and cannot do during the pandemic, how and who we can help, or if we can do anything to take care of ourselves. This is a harsh tale, but also one with hope, telling us the need of letting go, releasing the burden. How it plays with size games, with pressure, with all the tension to fight the negativity and find the ray of hope that keeps us going. All that in this story, so well-written and so intense.”
“Heartbreaking and sexy all at once.”
“My favorite thing about this one is how it resonated with Talmudic concepts of doing good in the world, even though the world seems so big.”
“I enjoy the trope of size being connected to emotional state, and you utilize it here in a meaningful, relatable, visceral, and hopeful (“Do for one”) way. These are real characters with real fears and needs, and this is an amazing piece of fiction.”
“This is a remarkable story about personal release and catharsis through size. I think one of the most beautiful things about this fetish of ours, is that it gives us an avenue to experience being powerful, and powerless. Ways to take, and ways to give. It’s usually difficult to write something that is meant for yourself, and have it encode for anyone else. The message got through this time. The need to fight, when there’s nothing suitable to fight. This story was such a beautiful way to solve that problem, with this gift of size we’ve been given. Thank you.”
“An amazing story, and perhaps one of the first I’ve read involving a definitively non-gendered deuteragonist. Also a look into a world of safe-words. Overall, this piece is a fantastic tale crafted with care and love. I’m better for having read it, and I’ll be returning to it throughout my future; one of the best compliments I can give a work of art.”
“To whoever wrote this story, thank you for writing it. This helped instigate the best cry I had in a while, one I sorely needed, because I didn’t even know I was feeling some of these things. If these experiences are based on real lived ones, please know that you have helped me. Rare is the story that encapsulates that feeling of impotence one feels when one has power—any power—to help and still can’t. Rarer are those that validate the feelings that arise. The rage, the utter, debilitating need to *be* and *not be*, while also acknowledging the little goods, the big goods, the unambiguously valid truth that comes with being hamstrung by a world that seems insistent on ignoring pain. Life imitates art, yet art draws from life and I was still surprised to come upon a story that will likely remain in my consciousness for a while.”
Maybe I didn’t need to share all of that, but I wanted to. Both for myself, as a reminder that in spite of my insecurities, I am actually succeeding at doing what I set out to do—write sexy stories about connection and love and the human experience—and also to acknowledge that we’re all going through a lot right now.
Some folks wrote some really personal, heartfelt things to me after reading this piece. Thank you for reading, and for trusting me.
You’re not alone.
Read the story
AUDIO VERSION: Coming this spring, check back for a 20-minute author-read version
Kinky Scribble installment seven! If you’re here for the sexy times, skip to the “read more.” Otherwise, continue below for an update on my inspiration for this story, why this is my first scribble in six months, and my hypothesis for why the sexy words finally, finally came. (Pun intended.)
Inspiration & Responsive vs Spontaneous Sexual Desire
On the surface, my inspiration for this story would seem to originate with this tweet and this tweet. If you ask to go deeper (please, deeper, harder) then I will share with you that the inspiration came from one of my first roleplay sessions with the talented @pseudo_size, a fellow polyamorous kink writer who has brought much inspiration to my life this year. You can read more of his work here, including a fantastic dark noncon commission he did for me in July. This weekend when I found myself fantasizing about two of the characters from that first February session, I messaged him privately to explore the concept, and he was very obliging with his response. It left me thirsty for more, in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
(Content warning for discussion of mental health.) My regular readers know that I’ve been struggling with trauma and a decreased desire for sex a lot this year. I won’t go into that in detail here, but I have learned a lot about the concept of sexual brakes and sexual accelerators, and how arousal works in relation to stress and mental health. My blog post Sexual Brakes, Trauma, & Kink in the Burning 20’s explores how I have used size kink in stress cycle exercises to release stress, fight depression, and find my way back to arousal.
Even with all that hard work and experimentation, in the last six months I have found my own turn-ons to be rooted firmly in responsive desire—when your brain only gets turned on when something sexy is already happening—and in my case, it’s mostly in contexts with people I trust a great deal, like my partners. Pre-pandemic, finding my turn-on for writing erotica was as easy as turning a faucet, most days. Spontaneous and fun. But in the last half year, the faucet has required some creative encouragement to function at all. For example, trying to find my turn-on for a sex scene in SizeRiot’s HistoricalJuly20 contest required patience, tremendous effort, and a lot of trial and error. It was a mental puzzle, not a physical inspiration.
So how the hell did I wake up Saturday morning spontaneously fantasizing about sex? After so long, how on earth did I finally feel inspired enough to dash off 1600 words of sensually charged erotica? With no deadline, no contest, no context of a loving partner hoping for my next kiss or my next paragraph?
I’ve only experienced spontaneous sexual desire a few times during the pandemic, and each time came directly after some stressor in my life resolved itself. The work crisis ended with a lucky break. The estranged family member answered my messages. I finally asked for help about something that had me burned out. Within 12-24 hours, each time I found myself experiencing wave after wave of spontaneous arousal. It was as if my body took a deep breath and said, “FINALLY! It’s safe enough for sexy times. Release the arousal!”
A door in my mind opened and erotica came flooding out.
When I shared the story with Pseudo afterward, I blushed hard at his response. “You really turned a quick few sentences about this concept from me into one of the sexiest pieces of size writing I’ve ever read.”
Kinky Scribble recipe & reasoning
A Kinky Scribble is a flash-fiction writing exercise idea I’ve been developing since January 2020, as a tool to break past my anxieties as a writer. Read my past Kinky Scribbles and search the #KinkyScribble tag itself on Twitter.
The strategy is to produce creative content in a short amount of time, give it minimal edits, and then release it into the wild for others to enjoy. My goals are to practice my fiction-writing skills, to produce more content while still reconnecting with the parts of writing I enjoy most, and to re-calibrate my sense of when something is “done enough” to share.
Feel free to join in! Don’t feel obliged to follow my same format of listing my word count and writing/editing times. It’s really useful to me to re-calibrate my time estimates, and to prove to myself that I can make good content in uncomfortably short time frames.
And speaking of comfort zones, I strongly encourage all #KinkyScribble creators to tag their content so that readers can opt in or out with fully informed consent. I’m not perfect about this, but practice has been helping, and I’m committed to doing better in the future.
Kinky Scribbles installment five! This writing exercise has been so immensely helpful to me as a tool to break past my anxieties as a writer.
I make notes about how long it took me to write and edit because I’m trying to recalibrate my sense of when something is “done enough” to share.
In the past I would write a thing and leave it in my files to collect dust because I was convinced it needed some unknowable quantity of edits, a goal with constantly shifting measures of success. When I limit myself to a scribble, the path becomes so much clearer. It’s been really good practice for me, so I’m going to keep it up for the foreseeable future.
Note: the word napkin is US usage, not UK where it apparently means a diaper for a baby. Here it’s the piece of cloth you use to clean up during a meal.
And far more sincere thanks to my friend Dick, the Micro Giant, who let me roleplay this little comfort scene off and on today to work through these feelings.
Ten minutes. Just a scribble. Let go of whatever you think this needs to be, Elle. Just write.
(Ten minutes turned into an hour and a half of writing, with another half hour of edits. I never know if I should feel pleased at my accomplishment when this happens, or annoyed with my inability to keep my projects small. I do feel really good about this one, though.)
Kinky Scribbles: Body Pillow
(M/f, male Giant, female tiny, shrinking, cuddles, cock play, comfort. Second person POV addressed to a male “you.”)
1020 words, est. 1.5 hours of writing, 0.5 hours of editing
I have had the good luck to end up with a writing coach for the month of January, and she’s helping me figure out ways to lower the stakes of writing more often, both for erotica and for my mainstream projects.
Step one is to attempt what I’m calling “writing scribbles” that will be quick, short, relatively unplanned, and can have only one round of edits before sharing with the world.
This is basically what I achieved many times over with Tumblr’s format, and what I’ve been avoiding with my shiny personal website for the last year. As if I went from a commuter train full of conversations with friends and acquaintances I see regularly, to a personal vehicle where I make all the decisions of where to go, and I do it alone, and have to roll down the window or deliberately invite people inside to talk to them. It’s clunky, lonely, and it feels like the stakes are higher (silly ideas about identity, success, connection) if I decide to go in the wrong direction or say the wrong thing.
Fuck the wrong thing. Nothing is wrong–it’s either unethical, painful, uncomfortable, or various shades of awkward. I might regret a thing, but who cares? It’s on my website, and I’m in control of whether or not it continues to see the light of day. I’m going to take the steps to make sure it’s as ethical as I can make it, by offering tags and informed consent and giving credit to other writers and artists. As for pain, that can heal. Discomfort and awkwardness are also hallmarks of change and growth. Nobody ever made progress or created something wonderful by staying 100% comfortable.
Scribbles can be drawing, writing, any kind of creative art. The point is that it has to be quick, simple, and low-stakes.
At this point in my process, I’m not allowed to turn it into a big thing or make extra work for myself with extra ideas. I’m not adding it to my mainstream works. I’m sticking to kinky content only, because it’s the one kind of writing that brings me the most joy and escapism right now. And also because it’s a way to keep my scope small.
Ironically for someone with size dysmorphia, I have no idea how to keep my ideas and goals small.
I know how to “go big or go home” in other parts of my life, but over the years I’ve let it become too overwhelming with writing because I get cloudy with assumptions of what it means to be a writer and what it means to be “enough.” (Fuck you very much, Impostor Syndrome.) Even discussing the scribbles concept with the coach and how to fit 10 minutes into my schedule a week, I quickly morphed the discussion into how I could carve out 30 minutes a day, every day. When she pointed that out and reminded me that I am already enough regardless of how many minutes I can or can’t put into my schedule right now, I burst into tears.
Fuck going big all the time, fuck that overachiever mindset that’s burned me out so many times. Fuck the toxic productivity culture of never believing I’m enough.
I want to learn how to go small. I’m a sizeshifter, damnit. This is a skill I can develop, just like any other. I just need to find a way to show up and do the work without self-sabotaging all my efforts with last-minute deadline scrambles and other misguided attempts at staying comfortably far away from risk and failure.
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash, shared with a Creative Commons License: https://unsplash.com/photos/AF_4tBQjdtc
“And so, shrunk down, strapped to a tiny dildo, little more than decoration for a party she should have been hosting, Mora shuddered and spasmed and cried out with her first orgasm of the day.”
Hello, my lovelies! One of my goals for the new year is to share more imperfect writing, so today I’m sharing a Winter Solstice gift: an 11K word sizeplay story featuring lesbian sex at a holiday party, succubus magic, shrinking, objectification, mind control, humiliation, dubcon, unaware, scissoring, mouthplay, insertion, and so many orgasms I literally stopped counting.
🎵it’s the most wonderful time of the year🎵
(because I can trance you to think you’re holiday decor and have you loop thrusting yourself on a dildo like the most nsfw and prettiest ornament on my tree❤️💚❤️💚)
I responded with this retweet, but the fantasy stayed with me and I decided to try it in a story.
Yes, please. Someone trance me out and make me your sexy decor.
NSFW ornaments don’t have to think or worry about anything except making their master happy. That is exactly where I want to be right now. Objectify the fuck out of me, yeah?#NSFW#Objectification#MindControlhttps://t.co/ydctwH2vmc
Now that I have more experience on Twitter, I’ve realized in hindsight that writing her fantasy into a story without permission and then quote tweeting her original tweet was not an okay thing to do. Ithaca and I are not mutuals and don’t have any kind of friendship or relationship. I need to own that I didn’t comment on her tweet or DM her to ask permission to explore her idea OR put a size-kink spin on it, and that’s a problem.
We all take inspiration from a lot of places, and people participate in kinky twitter partly as a way to share our fantasies, but do that for a variety of reasons. Sometimes a person is tweeting a fantasy for the purpose of inviting strangers to interact with them in that fantasy; sometimes a person tweets a fantasy with the hope other creatives will take that idea and run with it; but in either case, you don’t know until you ask. Just like a sexy piece of clothing is not an open invitation to do something sexual to a person, sexy tweets are not open invitations to start roleplaying publicly.
This isn’t exactly roleplay, but I didn’t ask. I ran with the idea, and then I basically involved her in my version of the fantasy by quote tweeting her original with my new story inspired by it. That’s a problem, too. If I’d gotten permission and she was into that, quote tweeting in this way would have been a fun way to share the work, give her credit, and promote her account. I think I did it this way because I started in Tumblr, and that platform revolved around sharing and building on others’ work. But it’s not how Twitter works. Doing that without asking was crossing some boundaries, and I am sorry for that. I DM’d her an apology. She was gracious and understanding, and I have decided to leave this up because I would prefer that others be able to learn from my mistake.]
Writing it quickly, sharing it quickly
I wrote it in one marathon writing session, and I’m deliberately giving it to you after only two hours of editing today. Why? Because stories that collect digital dust in my files don’t bring pleasure to anyone. Editing is good, but editing as a way to postpone being vulnerable is not serving my goals as a writer. I have to learn that it’s better to let them go before I’m completely satisfied. (I’ll never be completely satisfied.) In an effort to re-calibrate my sense of “this is good enough to release into the wild,” I’m going to share more content with deliberately fewer rounds of editing. I’m tired of holding back, so I’m going to let myself be imperfect. It seems like the only way forward.
One other thing holding me back is that I know I will need content for Kindle once I begin publishing. I write a story and stare at it, deliberating. Should I post it to my website and share it for free? Should I hold onto it and polish it more and publish it on Kindle? Or is it possible that maybe, just maybe, these questions are keeping me frozen in place, not sharing content or moving closer to my goal of publication?
This story is a little messy. It’s a little dark, because I was in a dark place when I wrote it, and all I wanted was to be owned and objectified and to lose myself in pleasing someone else. There were parts I considered cutting, parts I think need more polish and clarity.
But you know what? Sex is messy, too. I have never had a single experience of perfect sex, and if I had waited for perfection I would have missed so many wonderful, beautiful, intense moments of intimacy and connection with real, genuine, messy, and sexy people. I would never have had any sex at all, and sex is one of my favorite pastimes! So. Fuck perfection. Have some free erotica.
[Update on 11/27/20: I wanted to share this again but couldn’t resist one more round of edits for clarity and consistency. I should probably ask someone to tie me up before I go in for more…]
“It’s magic,” Irena whispered. She, too, ran a finger down Mora’s tiny body and the tiny woman felt more beautiful under their shared gaze than she had in years. She felt strangely powerful, in spite of her size…
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