Monday, June 27, 2022

Holding Space - Pt. 3


CW: NSFW, M/m, male shrinking, honorifics, dudes being awkward, dudes doing it~


3.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge.  You know where the bottle opener is.  If you’re going to play music, don’t make it too loud or the neighbors’ll complain.  Oh - and throw down a blanket on the couch?  I just had it reupholstered.”  Jordan gave us a knowing smirk, and walked wincingly off toward her bedroom, her steps awkward in her too-tight shoes.


“You’re not planning to join us?” I asked.


“Huh?  Oh, maybe later.”  She glanced again toward the back of her apartment.  “I wanted to give my two favorite guys a little private time.  Besides, I’m seriously going to die if I don’t get these clothes off.  If I’m lucky I’ll be able to accomplish the feat without an extraction crew.  I’ll holler if I need you to fetch the Jaws of Life or something.”


She left.


Casey and I stood together in the entryway.  My arm was around his shoulder, his hand was in mine.  


“Do you, um.  Want another beer?” I asked.


“No thanks.”


He led me over to the couch.  In silence, the two of us spread Jordan’s big grey afghan over the surface.  I was tucking it carefully into the cushions when Casey touched my shoulder.  “Hey.  Sit with me?”


I nodded, my heart beating very fast.  On the first attempt, I left the acceptable-for-friends six inches of space between us.  I corrected, and moved closer, until we were almost touching.


The AC unit in Jordan’s window made a funny clicking noise, then settled back into a low hum.  Somewhere on a floor beneath us, a man laughed.


“Want to put on a movie or something?  Or, the west coast games might still be on.  The Angels are playing the….”


“I have a confession to make.  I don’t actually like baseball.”  Casey gave me a sad little smile.  “Scott.  We don’t have to do this.”


“No.  No!  I want to, believe me.  I just… don’t know how to start.”


“I could go ask Jordan to make me a little smaller.  Would that help?”


I considered it.  Seriously.  The idea did cause a certain amount of stirring inside me.  But then I shook my head.  “Maybe later.  This is a good height for you.”


He smiled serenely, and leaned against me.  Resting his head against my shoulder, placing his hand on my chest.  “Yeah.  I think so too.”


I pulled him a little closer.  And then we just… sat that way.  For a long time.  His body rose and fell as he breathed against me.  His hair tickled my chin.  At first my brain worked through the calculus of how to initiate things with him.  But then I relaxed, and just enjoyed having him so close.


I wasn’t thinking anything at all, when he started to kiss my throat.  My body just responded to the sensation.  My head tilting back to give him better access, my arm around his shoulder, drawing him in tighter.  His lips were soft, and warm, and he placed them on me with slow precision.  Working his way from my sternum, to the bottom of my chin.  Up the line of my jaw.  I followed his progress, orienting toward him like a compass as he explored me.


He started to unbutton my shirt, and I let him, my hands resting at my sides.  Everything about this moment felt crisp, and immediate.  I was very aware of the way his fingers worked to free each individual button.  We made eye contact, and I saw his curiosity, his concern.  Asking without words if this was good.  I smiled encouragingly.  


Casey kissed his way down my chest, peeling back my shirt as he went.  Running his lips over me, down the trail of hair to my stomach, nuzzling me with his cheek as he went.  I held still, breathing deep.  He ran his fingers along the rim of my jeans, then began to struggle with my belt.


“Wait.”  I touched his chin, then motioned for him to stand.  “You first, okay?”


His clothes were so laughably baggy.  Understandable, since he’d lost eight inches of height.  It was such a damn cute look on him.  I stood behind him.  Resting my chin on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind.  When I leaned against him, my groin pressed against the small of his back.  He arched toward me, going up on his tiptoes, and let the firmness of his ass shove against me.  I growled a little moan into his ear, squeezing him tighter.  


He kept grinding into me this way as I lifted his shirt over his head.  It came easily, and then I just held him against me, one hand rough on his shoulder, the other across his tummy.  The two of us, moving together.  The sounds of our breath intermingling, sharing little gasps of pleasure and anticipation.  


My hand stroked lower.  Worked the button of his jeans, snapped it free.  Immediately his pants slipped several inches down his hips.  They probably would have fallen to his feet if I hadn’t been there to hold them in place, and if he hadn’t been so hard.  Carefully, delicately, I slipped beneath his waistband.  He froze, holding his breath, as I tugged at the soft fabric.  Searching, in the folds of his too-big boxers.  And then, my fingers brushed against the hard arch of his penis.  He cried out in a long note, that slowly decreased in pitch as I traced my thumb down the length of it.  Exploring him.  It was silky, and warm, and it pulsed ever so slightly with my touch.  I let my whole palm cover it, cupping him, running my fingers through his short, coarse pubic hair.


“It’s not too small, is it?”


I kissed his ear.  “Well it’s the first one I’ve ever touched, other than my own.  So it isn’t like I have a lot of, ah, opinions just yet.  Why, is that something you’re worried about?”


Casey grinned dreamily.  “It’s something I considered, yeah.  Given the present circumstances.”  He inhaled deeply, and breathed out through his nose.  “Besides.  I think it’s about to get smaller.”


He turned then in my grasp, moving away from me just a little.  His pants failed to fall away easily, catching for just a moment against his erection, and he was obliged to play with them a little before they dropped around his ankles.  He braced against my shoulder, leaning his naked body against me so he could lift himself high enough to kiss.  It was immediately apparent he’d lost a few inches in the time I’d been touching him.  As I held him, I could feel him continuing to shrink.


That damn near pushed me over the edge right there.  For a moment, I barely inhabited my body.  My hands gripped his ass savagely, directing him to thrust against me.  My tongue parted his little lips, wrestled him into submission.  Leaning over him, the weight of me forcing him down, even as he dwindled in my grasp.  I was on fire, mad for him, and from the sounds he was making, he felt the same way.  


After a few seconds, we managed to slow things down.  I let him kiss me, finding myself bending lower, and lower, to keep in contact.  My hand drifted, reached below, found his cock.  My palm pressed into it, so small now that I could cover it completely.  I let him buck his hips against me, grinning as I felt it shrinking in my grasp.


I was a head taller than him.  Then he slipped beneath my shoulders.  Then I was leaning forward, and his face was pressing against my bare chest.  He was huffing, making cute desperate sounds with his nose.  


“You’re getting close, aren’t you?  Little guy.  Just a couple more seconds of this is all it’s going to take, huh?”


Casey moaned.  Trembled against me.  Then with what must have been a huge amount of effort, he pulled away.  He was a red-faced, sweaty little mess.  He looked scared, and excited, and very turned-on.  I wasn’t in a headspace to take measurements, but I would have guessed he was around four and a half feet tall, and still visibly getting smaller.


“If it’s okay,” he said, in a tiny little voice.  “I’d like to, um.  Touch you too.  Before I get too little.  Is that okay?  Sir?”


That last word.  It had… an effect on me.  


Smirking, I made him step back.  Had him stand still as I slowly removed my belt, and slipped my pants down my thighs.  His eyes widened at the sight of me.  I don’t know which of us would’ve been bigger at normal size, but that was irrelevant.  To me, he was tiny, not much longer or thicker than my two biggest fingers put together, and that was so sexy that I could hardly see straight.  To him, though?  I must have looked enormous.  He watched in a haze of excitement, hands curling in my direction, but waited for me to tell him when to move.    


I took my time.  Sat.  Got comfortable.  Spread my legs, stretching out.  Then at last, beckoned him.


He was on me at once.  Dropping to his knees, an almost worshipful posture.  I had time to think he was the perfect height for this position, and then coherent thought became difficult.  His little hands, moving over me in circles, as if he was polishing an altar.  His eyes softly closed, his lips parted.  Moaning, and kissing, and nuzzling.  He could’ve pushed me over the edge in only a few seconds like this.  But he wanted to savor this as much as I did, and he seemed to know every button to push.  Fingernails along the underside of my shaft, making me twitch.  Lightly caressing my balls with his fingertips.  A gentle little nibble just beneath the crown of my penis.  


My voice cracked.  I saw stars.


I’m not sure how long this went on before I realized just how small he was getting.  It was probably when he was obligated to stand up to reach me.  It was awkward for a moment, as we tried to figure out how we fit together.  He was too small to reach me comfortably from his knees, but too big to easily reach me with his mouth if he was standing.  But then he reached out, cupped the backside of my dick with both hands, and eased me toward him.  He arched his hips, brought us together, and massaged his tiny little cock against mine.  


I groaned, placing both my hands on his back.  Giving him purchase, pulling him closer.  Lifting him higher as he thrust.  As he got smaller I was more and more in control of his motions, until I was using him like a toy.  He groaned in satisfaction, looking up at me with soft, needy eyes.  He shrank, and I gripped him tighter.  Not even half my height, his little moans delightfully high in pitch.  Getting louder, reaching a crescendo.


I braced against the couch, flexing my thighs.  My toes curling….


In the next room, something crashed.  Jordan screamed – her voice much deeper than I remembered.  It was not a sound of surprise, or pain.  But of terror.  Casey and I looked at each other.  I’m ashamed to say there was a moment of indecision.  Though probably, not more than half a second.


The half-sized man almost tripped over his pants as he started to run toward Jordan’s bedroom.  I quickly got him free.  Then, hiking up my own jeans, I hurried after him.


Friday, June 24, 2022

Holding Space - Pt. 2

Tags: Female growth, minor panic attack, discussion of baseball


2.

Casey allowed himself to be led by his girlfriend, drifting along as if in a dream.  He was still fully a head taller than her, but that height difference didn’t seem to count for much.  He kept looking back at me, looking around the bar.  Bemused by everything in his environment, the new scale of the world after he’d lost nearly eight inches of height.  Jordan followed behind, making sure he didn’t get lost, or step out of his shoes.  She pushed him ahead of her, driving him with little taps on the shoulder.  Occasionally she’d glance back, making sure I was following behind.  She was shepherding us, without a doubt, but given the strangeness of the situation, I didn’t mind one bit.


She’d flagged down a cab for us, and she urged Casey into the backseat.  He shot us a goofy grin, and slipped into the car.  “I can’t remember the last time that was so easy,” he sighed.  “These tiny little sedans are always such a nightmare.  Oh my God, there’s so much leg room!”


The cab driver glanced at him without interest, and played with his phone.


“You next,” Jordan told me.


“You want me to sit in the middle seat?”


She raised an eyebrow, and gave me a placating, go-on gesture.


“But, you’re his girlfriend.  Shouldn’t you sit next to him?”


“I think you’re forgetting the point of the exercise.”  She gently shoved me toward the car.  “Will you just trust me on this?  Time is becoming a factor.”


I started to ask a follow-up question about that last part, but decided to just do as she told me.  The idea of sitting next to Casey was rather appealing, after all.  Especially in his shrunken, giddy state.


I had a little more trouble climbing into the car than Casey, and shifted awkwardly as I tried to find the seat belt.  He smirked at me, watching me struggle.  “Hey big guy.  Have you come to keep me company?”


“You could say that,” I grunted, and clicked the belt around my waist.


Jordan got in, and the cab took off.  The three of us sat in silence.  Occasionally the driver spoke softly into his headset, apparently on a phone conversation, his attention elsewhere.  


The city drifted past, the three of us briefly illuminated by passing headlights and storefront windows.  No one said anything.  Casey was looking out the window, his hand almost but not quite on my thigh.  Jordan stared straight ahead, looking like she was trying to work out a difficult math problem in her head.  For my own part, I sat with my legs close together, hands resting on my knees.  Trying to give both my smaller companions space.


“Hey.”  The diminutive girl surprised me, suddenly giving my sleeve a little tug.  Her face was colored dull red by the stoplight we were waiting at, and she seemed faintly embarrassed.  “Can you scoot over?  I need a little more room.”


I rolled my eyes.  “I mean, you’ve got more space than anyone.  But if you want me to let your boyfriend sit in my lap, I will.”  I paused, glancing at the driver in the rearview mirror, suddenly aware that he could hear us.  When I went on, my voice was much softer.  “But we can wait until we get to your apartment.  For.  That.”


“No,” Jordan said, from between clenched teeth. “We can’t.”


I noticed she was sweating.  A lot.  I had time to open my mouth to form a question, but then, she started to grow.


“Holy shit!”  I flinched hard, sliding as far away from her as I could, pressing bodily against Casey, forcing the poor little guy face-first into the door.


The driver looked back over his shoulder.  Frowned.  Then went back to watching the road.


“Yeah so anyway,” Jordan said, as she continued to swell in the seat beside me.  “That was one hell of a game.  Horgensen made that great defensive play in the eighth.”  She bit her lip, clearly suppressing a moan as her jean shorts tightened around her thighs.  “Think he’ll win a Gold Glove this year?”


“Horgensen.  Yeah.  He’s great.”  I tried to swallow with a dry throat.


Casey tapped me urgently on the shoulder.  His face was flushed, his body contorted as I inadvertently continued to shoulder-check him into the door.  I mouthed an apology, made myself get off him, moved closer to Jordan.  Her body grew taller, wider, the ample leg room she’d had only moments ago rapidly disappearing.


She frantically adjusted her seat belt, and gave me a panicked, pleading look.


“And um.  We’ve got the third best bullpen in the league now.”  I tried to sound casual as I balanced myself between them.  There wasn’t enough room to go around anymore, and Casey’s thigh pressed against me.  I wanted to be distracted by this, but a moment later Jordan’s growth brought her into contact with me as well.  Even taking up as little space as she could, things were rapidly becoming cramped.  “If we could get a little starting pitching at the trade deadline….”


“Oh yeah,” Casey squeaked.  “It’s all about pitching.”


Jordan tugged at her crop top, trying to make room to breathe.  Sweat stood out at her temples.  Her eyes were very bright.


The three of us went on trading banal statements about baseball, and Jordan kept growing.  The laces on her shoes creaked, the button of her jeans popped.  She tried to stay calm, but it was obvious she was upset.  Thankfully, just as the car turned onto her street, the process slowed, and finally came to a stop.  If the driver suspected anything weird was happening, he didn’t let on.  


We climbed out of the car the opposite way we’d gone in, with Jordan practically exploding from the car door onto the sidewalk, followed by me, and then Casey.  As the cab drove away, we stood together under the orange sodium street light.


Casey went to Jordan, and hugged her.  I gave them space, but tried to stay nearby.  The two of them were almost exactly the same height now.


“It’s okay,” she was saying.  “It just scared me.  I didn’t know it was going to feel like that.”  She tugged at her shirt, trying to adjust it, to make herself comfortable – a hopeless task if I’d ever seen one.


“Do the two of you want to tell me what happened?” I asked.


“I’m actually just as confused as you are.”  Casey came to stand beside me so we could both regard her.  He took my hand again.  It felt natural enough that I didn’t notice he’d done it for several seconds.  “Babe, you told me you could make me smaller.  But growth spurts never came up in the conversation.  Call me crazy, but I’m guessing it’s related?”


“Hey, give the little man a lollipop.”  She laughed, unconvincingly.  When neither of us said anything, she sighed.  “Okay, so I left out a few details.  I can’t just make your size ‘go away.’  I wouldn’t want to, in fact, because presumably you’re going to want it back after we’re finished fooling around.”


Casey blushed.  Something inside me gave an excited little pulse, and I decided not to engage with it right then.


“So if I take height from you, someone else is going to gain it.  I can exert energy to delay that, for a little bit.  Honestly I was hoping that I could hold off until I was alone in my bedroom, and the two of you were on the couch, up to no good.  But.”  She shrugged.  “I guess all the drinks really took it out of me.”


I reached out, and gave her shoulder a squeeze.  She tilted her head demurely, but didn’t move away.  “That looked really unpleasant.  Are you okay?”


“Yeah.  Or I will be.”  She hesitated, as if she wanted to say more.  “Let’s hurry up, though.  The two of you love birds are making me stand here in mini-Jordan clothes.  You do not want me to describe where my g-string is right now.”


Casey and I watched her go.  She’d always had a well-muscled, athletic body, her build suiting her petite frame.  But there was no denying that being several inches taller than average looked really good on her.  We were both appreciating this fact I’m sure, but neither of us would have been stupid enough to say it to her face just then.


“She really must be crazy about you,” I finally told him, too low for Jordan to hear.  “To put herself through this, so you can live out your fantasy.”


He seemed startled.  “I mean.  Yeah.”  Nervously, he reached up, and put his hand on my arm.  He swallowed.  “Scott, can I ask you something?”


“What?”


“You aren’t… what I mean to say is.  You were into this idea, like, before?  I mean.  You were attracted to me when I was normal-sized, too?”  In the dim light, he looked very earnest.  His pupils were wide.  His lower lip turned out ever so slightly.  “I just want to know that this is…worth it.”


“I was,” I breathed.  “Into you.  Or I wanted to be.  You’re my friend, and a great guy.  And I think you’re really cute.  I’ve just.  Had some bad experiences when I’ve wanted to explore things like this.”


He nodded, solemnly.  “I think I know what you mean.  But when you kissed me, in the bar.”  I had to lean in, he was speaking so quietly.  “It was like I was melting.  You felt so good.”


“Yeah?”  I raised an eyebrow.  Reached out, touched his hip, took a big fistful of his oversized sweater.  Pulled him closer.  “We better be careful that you don’t melt away completely.  Because that?  Was just a warm-up.”


“Oh.”


I drew him in, inch by inch.  Until my hip pressed against his stomach.  Looked into his eyes.  Took him by the back of the neck.  And kissed him, full and deliberate, on the mouth.


I swear, I did feel him melt.  He cuddled in closer, taking up what space I offered him.  Trying to get as near me as possible.  I found myself bending lower, trying to keep my lips in contact with him, and for a moment I thought he might be shrinking again.  But when I opened my eyes, I found he was simply bending his knees, lowering himself on purpose.


“Sorry,” he breathed, his lips against my cheek.  “Being shorter like this.  It’s.  God.”  He laughed.  “It’s weird, right?  Be honest.”


I shook my head, smirking.  “It’s really hot.”


He brightened at once.  “Good.  Because I do want to get smaller.”  


There was a corollary to that thought, and we both arrived at it at the same time.  In unison, we glanced at Jordan.  She was leaning against the side of her apartment building, trying to look as if she wasn’t watching us.  If she was still frantic to get out of her tight clothes, she wasn’t showing it.  Casey touched my chin, and I leaned down close to his lips so he could whisper.  “She made me promise, that if I wanted it, that I shouldn’t let her feelings get in the way.  I thought she meant if she got jealous, but.  What I’m saying is, she knew this would happen.  And it’s okay with her.”  


He nibbled on my earlobe, and an embarrassingly loud moan escaped my lips.  Somewhere, a dog barked.  “Make me the same promise?  Let’s… just feel good tonight, together.  Okay?”


I gasped, and allowed him to pull me down with his lips.


When Jordan led the way up the stairs to her apartment, it was without comment.  She couldn’t quite hide the big, proud smile that lit her face from ear to ear.  But I noticed…she was still sweating a lot.


Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Holding Space - Pt. 1

 


Most stories I write are an attempt to explore a particular feeling of mine. This one is no exception. Here's what's different: I'm being explicit about it at the outset. This is a story about the ways people care for each other. The ways we offer and receive affection. It's a story about three people having some white-hot sizeplay sex - like 80% it's about that.


This is also a story about how I'm not straight. I think men are sexy, and if it ever felt safe to explore that, it's something I'd enjoy. Sometimes writing is about building yourself a world where you'd like to live.


So just in time for Pride. Hi. I'm pseudoclever. I'm attracted to people of all different shapes and genders, and I'm proud to say, that includes men. This is a story about that.


Many thanks to Elle Largesse, @mightytinygiant, for their tireless work beta-reading this piece for me. Their feedback and support made this story what it is, from simple encouragement at how fucking hot they found the sexy stuff, down to basic plot beats that helped me figure out what the story I was actually trying to tell.


TL;DR: this is a story where one of the love interests is two guys.


Full Story Tags: NSFW, female growth, male shrinking, male growth, female shrinking, F/m, M/f, M/m, M/f/m, doms of various sizes, claustrophobia, panic attacks, internalized homophobia, polyamory, people talking about their feelings.

Chapter Tags: flirting, discussions of voyeurism and polyamory, male shrinking, internalized homophobia


1.

It was late, and the crowd was starting to thin out at The Wooden Nickel. Usually most of the locals head home after the ball game. That was why the three of us got together that night, as we did at least once or twice a week.  We were all huge fans of the local team, and never missed a game.  It was how I’d met the two of them actually – Casey, and his girlfriend Jordan.  

I remember Jordan was sipping some fruity girl-drink that night. Her third of the evening, and each one probably had a higher alcohol content than the beers that Casey and I were nursing put together.  Neither of us doubted her ability to drink us under the table. 

“So what’s next, guys?” she asked, grinning at us owlishly. “Want to play some pool? Maybe check out the new all-night karaoke place down the street? Or, I know! We could grab a bottle of fancy scotch.”

Casey frowned, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. The little muscle in his jawline, the one that always stood out when he was nervous, tightened a little. “I’m terrible at pool.”

“And none of us can sing,” I added. “We’d get boo’d out of the place before the first chorus.”

“And neither of you can handle good scotch.” She drained the last of her neon blue murder-drink, and tapped the rim thoughtfully. “Well the only other idea I have? Is bad movies.  And a big old cuddle pile at my place. But I bet the two of you aren’t into that either.”

I glanced at Casey, trying to assess him without being obvious about it.  He was staring off into space, so I decided to shrug. “I mean.  I don’t want to be a third wheel.  I’m fine to just hang out.  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve watched you two make out over a riff track.”

Casey winced. He turned to me, the bar lights playing off his blonde hair. “I’m um. Really sorry about that, Scott. We’d been drinking and well. Jordan is really hard to put off when she’s in that mood of hers….”

“Yeah she is,” Jordan growled.

“You do have more than a foot of height on her,” I pointed out.

“A coyote will always win in a fight with a Great Dane.” Jordan began to walk her fingers up her boyfriend’s arm. “Because although the coyote is small, they are wild. Vicious. And the Great Dane?” She gave Casey’s neck a sudden pinch. “Is domesticated.”

Casey grimaced, and half pulled away from her. “But what I’m saying is, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It just sort of… happened.”

I shrugged, again. “I like seeing my friends happy. Besides, I grew up watching late-night Cinemax. What you two were up to was tame by comparison.”

“Less static-y too,” Jordan added. “And less chance of getting caught by your mom. Anyways.” The word escaped in a long, exasperated sigh. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to come watch us make out. I asked about a cuddle pile. As in. Including you..” 

Casey started to object. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he shut his mouth at once. The two exchanged a quick look.  I had the feeling that a large amount of data had passed between them, on an encrypted channel.

“Or, I don’t know.” The diminutive woman flipped her hair casually. “The two of you could just get naked together. See where it goes.”

Casey and I both stood in unison. He looked at me, and I looked at him. He was at least three inches taller than me, and far more broad in the shoulders. He looked scared. I’m sure I did, too.

“Where are you going?” I asked him. 

“The bathroom.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “I was going to the bathroom, too.”

"Oh. You go first.”

I shook my head. “No. That’s okay.”

Jordan sighed.  “Why don’t you just go together?” 

Casey walked off at a trot. I watched his retreat. 

“Sit down.” Jordan sounded tired, but patient.

I sat.

“Scott… how long have the two of you been making eyes at each other? Six months, at least?”

Denial started to rise in my throat, and Jordan narrowed her eyebrows almost imperceptibly. “Yeah… I guess it’s been about that long.”

“Okay.  Set aside other people I could mention, who also seem to have great chemistry and should probably talk about it at some point.”  She dipped her head, looking faintly sad, but when she went on her tone was caring.  “He likes you too, dummy.” 

She reached for me. Moving slowly, like a person trying to pet a caged animal. I didn’t pull away, and her hand closed over mine. 

Her hand was tiny, and very cold.

“I know you’re curious, Scott. You didn’t have to watch us. On the couch, that night. But you did.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You could’ve asked to join us.”

I shook my head. “It’s not my place. Anyway, what would Casey have said?”

“I think you know the answer to that already. You just don’t want to hear it. But, let’s try it this way.” Jordan gently rested her palm on the center of her chest. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Well, yeah.” I looked over my shoulder.  God, what was taking Casey so long?

“Are you afraid of me?” 

When I didn’t answer for several seconds, she narrowed her eyes.

“I just… it’s complicated.  I guess not.  Okay?  You’re tough, don’t get me wrong.  And scary when you don’t get what you want. But I guess I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of you or anything.  Just, cautious.”

“Good.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “So why just cautious, and not afraid?  Is it because I’m short?”

I laughed. Tried to sip from an empty can. Thought about joining Casey in the bathroom. 

“Scott. I am four feet eleven inches tall. Casey is six foot three. My boyfriend, well… he’s huge, but he’s such a marshmallow.  Yet.  You’re afraid of him.  Why?”

“I’ve never been with a man before.”  The words tumbled over each other as I spoke.  “He’s cute, and I like when we flirt, but just, men are….”  I looked at her helplessly, suddenly at a loss for words.

“I get why this is scary.” There was sympathy in her eyes. “Believe me, I know.  But I can’t stand idly by, seeing how much you both want this.  And I think I have a solution.” She sat up very suddenly. “Did it work okay, honey?”

Casey was blushing. I’ve always known him to blush easily, but this was something else entirely. He stood between Jordan and I, staring at his feet, his lower lip quivering. His formerly tight denim shirt was many, many sizes too large. His pants hung loose around his hips.  “It worked. Did you, um. Explain things to Scott?”

“Not yet, sweetie. I said to give us ten minutes at least. You’re a little over-eager, huh?”  

I pushed myself back at the table, looking at the two of them in horror. “You’re smaller! He’s smaller!  You… shrank!”

Casey, formerly taller than me by several inches, was now somewhat shorter than an average-sized man.  Around five seven if I had to guess, and quite a bit shorter than my six feet.

He blushed harder as I stared.

But Jordan only smiled. “It’s hard to make the first move when he’s intimidating,” she purred. “Well. Now he’s not intimidating. Is he?”

Casey and I stared at each other. I could hear my heart over the jukebox.  

“Please say something,” he said at last. He held up his arms, his sleeves sliding halfway to his elbows. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You knew this was going to happen?”

He nodded, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“And.” I swallowed. “What.  It was supposed to make you less scary? So I’d be… comfortable..?” I gestured vaguely, suddenly running out of words.

Casey looked at his feet, not saying anything.  He looked sad, and sweet, and terribly afraid.

“He’s nervous,” Jordan put in gently. “Because he likes you.  He just put himself out there, in a way that I have to say, was very brave of him.  He’s feeling extremely vulnerable about it.  So Scott, check in with your feelings.  What does seeing him this way make you want to do?”

Very slowly, I reached out, and took the smaller man’s hand in mine. His palm felt rough, and clammy, but good in my grasp. 

He squeezed.

“Casey and I talked about this,” Jordan said.  “The other night.  He wanted to know what he could do to make you more attracted to him.  And I told him he didn’t need to do anything, because you already thought he was beautiful.  Was I wrong?”

Casey and I made eye contact.  It felt hot, and dangerous, and incredibly powerful.

“No,” I managed, before looking away again.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Casey said, very softly.

“You could have said something, too.”  I shrugged.  “Anyway I’ve… never had a crush on another guy before.  This is all really new for me.”

“And that,” Jordan breathed.  “Is why I thought it would be a good idea if he were smaller.  It’s easier to say these things when you can look down at him.  Isn’t it?”

I nodded.

She moved closer.  Still giving the two of us space to be intimate, but near enough that I could see the tiny hairs standing up on the back of her arm.  “He could be even smaller.  Would you like that?”

My gaze shot toward Casey.  He couldn’t make himself meet my eye.  But the corners of his mouth were turning upward.

“Oh yes.  He asked me how far I could make this go.  How much of his height I could take away, for you.  I told him that he could be as short as me.  Or smaller.  A lot smaller.  It, well.  Let’s just say the idea appealed to him.  When I described what it would feel like?  Shrinking down inch by inch, while he stared up into your eyes?  We had a rather nice evening.”

“Scott.”  Casey’s voice cracked as he spoke.  “I want this.  I want you.  But, if this is too much, if it’s too weird….”

I touched his stubbled cheek.  Cupped him.  Turned him ever so slightly, until he was looking up into my eyes.  The top of his head didn’t even reach my nose.  The colors in the room felt too bright, the music muffled and distant.  The bar wasn’t as crowded as it was twenty minutes ago, but I was painfully aware that at least a dozen people could see us.  Even so, I wanted this too badly to resist.  “Is it okay if I kiss you?” I asked.

He nodded.  And I did.

I’d thought about this moment, for a long time.  Wondered what it would be like if it ever came.  The angle was a little different, than in my fantasies.  His mouth was soft, and had a faint citrus taste from the IPA he’d been drinking.  He breathed into my mouth, and my head started to spin.

My hand slipped up his shoulder.  Then pressed to the back of his neck.  He moaned, his brow tensing.  But he held so delightfully, perfectly still.  Letting me explore him.  

“This is okay?” I asked him.  I was shaking, and I couldn’t make it stop, but it wasn’t bad.  

“This is wonderful.”  He pressed his hand to my chest.  Closed his eyes, and just breathed.

Jordan gave us a knowing smile.  She stepped away, and settled up our tab.  

I didn’t know what to do with my body, so I wound up pulling him halfway into my lap, in an awkward way.  He didn’t seem to mind.  When his hip pressed against my groin, I had to bite my lip to hold back a moan.

“Do you really want to get smaller?” I asked him.  My lips brushing against his earlobe.  

“We should talk about that,” he whispered, nuzzling his head against my chin.  “It’s scary.  But.  Really hot.  As long as you promise to be gentle I….”  He laughed lightly, and pressed his hand against my thigh.  “I just want to keep going.”

“I’ll be gentle,” I promised.  It felt good to be protective of him.  It made me feel strong, and big, and very, very turned on.  “No matter how small you get.”

Jordan walked by, motioning toward the door with her head.  There was a cab waiting.

Wednesday, June 8, 2022

Honesty's Reward - Pt. 7


 

CW: Brief physical altercation, attempted physical harm


For the first few seconds, no one moved. We all just stared in silence at Tiffany. The girl looked like the largest, most muscular bukkake star that ever existed. Standing there with that slack-jawed, faintly dazed expression you see on girls who have just taken a hard one to the face – if you know what I mean.

Tiffany was covered from nose to navel in a thick layer of greyish cream. She was trembling.  Her breath coming in little gasps, her pupils much too large. Her lips parted in a soundless whimper. And then, faster than I would have imagined possible, she started to shrink.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, fighting panic as her body dwindled. The girl's sleeveless crop top had been skin-tight, almost to the point of circulation loss, and cut to reveal massive swaths of cleavage to anyone tall enough to actually look. Suddenly the garment wasn't close to form-fitting. Within a few seconds, she was practically lost in it. She held her hands to her face, trying to watch herself shrink.  I knew from experience that was futile, and against my better judgment, felt a wave of sympathy.  

“Lower ranking employee, my ass,” Anthony sneered.  The giant watched the fruits of his labor with satisfaction for another moment, then turned to regard me.  Then immediately blushed and looked away.  Oh – I hadn't thought to cover myself yet. Or for that matter, even gotten around to closing my legs. “Sam? Are you...okay? I heard somebody moaning, and I sort of assumed Tiffany was…like…torturing…you….”

“Ah?  No?  Not torture, exactly.” My voice was a mouse's squeak, coming from a tiny throat constricted with embarrassment. I gestured wildly at the shrinking girl – hey look, a distraction!. “I guess you turned the tables on her though, didn't you?”

Tiffany's waist had already sunk beneath the level of the massage table, and as I watched, her belly button slipped past it as well. That mysterious steam was coming off her in thick, puffy clouds. Slowly, it was filling the room with a strange, sweet-smelling fog.

And it seemed like height wasn't the only thing she was losing. I had been jealous of Tiffany's body for a great many reasons, not least of which, her muscular physique. Her toned gym body, her well-defined biceps and abs...they were...evaporating! She was no longer ripped, merely 'in shape.' Then less. She was...well, still as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so. But now she had an almost willowy appearance.  One might even say, ‘cute.’

She looked down at herself, watching as her body melted.  “No....” she groaned. Then, much louder. “NO!”

Tiffany wheeled, almost tripped over her too-large sneakers, snarled down at Anthony. “It took months of steady gain to get that height, that strength! And you've ruined it! I'm right back to where I started at five foot ten!”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Ah, actually I think...you might be a bit shorter than that.”

From where I was sitting it was hard to tell – they both looked like giants to me. That, and well, let's just say that I wasn't  clear-headed right then. There was still that buzzing, tingling feeling from when Tiffany had stopped touching me so suddenly. It was half afterglow, half blue balls. Even so, I thought Anthony might be right. After a few more seconds I was sure of it. She was only a few inches taller than his five foot four – and going down fast.

Tiffany looked at her still-dwindling body, mouth agape. And when she returned her gaze to Anthony, there was fury in her eyes.

“Fuck!”  Tiffany inhaled, screamed, and charged forward, fist drawn back. Anthony drew away, raising his arm to block...too slow. The girl launched a devastating right-hook directly at his jaw – and it sundered the air a millimeter in front of his face. The girl had been shrinking even mid-punch, and good luck for Anthony, she had misjudged the distance between them.

The force of the blow-that-wasn't was so great that it threw Tiffany off-balance. She stumbled forward, her legs tangling in the cuffs of her jean shorts, and she fell. 

If I had been in Anthony's place, I would've just gone ahead and let her hit the ground.  In retrospect, this would've made everything that happened next much easier. Besides, she was still bigger than him, clearly knew how to fight, and was in the mood to do some serious damage.  Despite the muscle she'd lost, I'd still have bet on her..

But if Anthony didn't do what he did next – catch her, grab her by the shoulders, pull her into his arms – well, he wouldn't have been my knight in shining armor.

She fought him, teeth bared, struggling in his grip. Trying to bash head head against the bridge of his nose, clawing at his arms.  Anthony really had the tiger by the tail now.  If he let her get enough clearance to throw a punch, he was in for it big time. Yet every second it was getting easier.  Tiffany shrinking in his grasp.  Two inches taller than him...then one...and getting weaker all the time. Her shirt slid down her chest, the waistband of her shorts drifted lower. They were the same height for a moment...and wonder of wonders, now she was looking up at him.

“I hate you! I hate you!” she cried, though her voice seemed to have lost some of its raging edge. She almost sounded on the verge of tears.  Her face was flushed, sweat dripping from her bangs. Her breath came in ragged, panting gasps. This was from the struggle, surely. But there was something else to it.  I knew from personal experience that the shrinking gel had certain mood-altering effects, and tended to make a person pretty excitable – not to mention open to suggestion.

And with that understanding, I saw a way out of this.

“Hey Tiffany.  Knock off the hissy fit.”

I stood up on the massage table, actually tall enough this way to stare the both of them down. My arms were crossed, a sarcastic little smirk on my face. “Yeah, so listen. There was a time not so long ago when I was in your shoes. Remember? I thought the only thing I wanted in the world was to get bigger. Then you shrank me.  Against my will, I might add. I said I didn't want it and – any of this ringing a bell? You just laughed. Why? Because you knew me. And you told me to be honest with myself. Now I'm asking the same of you.”

They were both staring at me. Anthony, eyes shining. Tiffany, face squelched in a glare, perhaps three inches shorter than him by now, still shrinking. I was vaguely conscious that I was waist high to both of them, and clad in nothing but my birthday suit.  I should have been embarrassed. I wasn't.

“Look Tiffany.  Whether it's what you want or not, you're shrinking. Face it. You're already shorter than the vast majority of girls. You're probably going to get a lot smaller.  Since there's nothing you can do about it, you might as well be honest. Do you really hate Anthony for shrinking you? And more importantly...do you hate this?”

Tiffany's eyes swam, a near-infinite series of conflicting emotions playing across her face. She looked back and forth from my miniature form, up into Anthony's eyes, craning her neck higher to do so each time. Her formally tight pants dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Her shirt dangled, almost big enough that her shoulders could slip through the collar. And still she shrank.

By the time she spoke, her head was beneath the bridge of Anthony's nose. Her voice was calm, even.  Under the circumstances, the control this must've required spoke of a tremendous strength of will. “Your logic is backward, Samantha. What does it matter, whether I hate this or not, if there's nothing I can do about it? Either way, I'll just have to deal with it.”

She turned, the ghost of that old smirk on her smaller face, and looked to Anthony – now dwindling past the level of his chin. “So tell me, stock boy.  Did you follow the nuances of what she just said?  In between the parts where she was lambasting me for the fictional crime of lying to myself.  She…”  Here Tiffany stabbed an accusing finger in my direction.  “Loved shrinking.  And more, the way I was touching her while she shrank. You weren't defending her honor when you burst in here, you idiot. She wanted to be tiny.”

“You're lying,” Anthony told her flatly. He shot me a glance, blushing again at my nudity. “Isn't she?”

I hesitated. Sighed. “No Anthony.  She's not.” I began to climb down the side of the massage table, waving him away when he moved to help. It was pretty difficult, given my miniature size and the way my newly enlarged breasts were throwing off my center of gravity, but all those pull-ups at the gym had their advantages. The floor was cold under my feet, the ceiling high, so high...and Tiffany and Anthony absolutely towered over me. Still, I moved bravely, stood at his feet, and looked up at my crush with all the dignity I could muster.

“Anthony, I like...no, I love being small. More than that, I loved being shrunk. Tiffany was right about… well, everything.”

“Are you....” He paused, swallowing hard. “Clarify. Are you trying to tell me that you like shrinking, or that you like...Tiffany? Is she part of this package?”

“No! I mean yes, she is, but...God.”  I trailed off, trying to think of an elegant way to say this, failed.  The truth was I didn’t know the answer, and how was I supposed to say that in front of both of them?  I knew she was attractive, that she’d made me feel things.  That I would let her put her hands on me again in a heartbeat.  But did that mean I liked her?  The gargantuan size of the man I was addressing wasn't helping my thought process. Anthony looked easily ten feet tall now, and now that I was standing on the floor, that age old desire of mine was starting to come to life again.  Making my mouth dry, my knees weak.

“Samantha. What are you trying to say?”

In desperation, I said the one thing I was sure was true.  The words were forced almost violently from me. “Anthony, I like you more!”

His eyes went wide, body going slack. “You...?”

If you're going through hell, for God's sake keep going. “Yes Anthony, I do. For like, a whole year at least.  So look.  It all comes down to you. I've known...I mean I think that you like me too and...all I need to know is....” I gestured at my shrunken little body, threw up my hands. “...How do you feel about this?”

He looked at me, his expression impossible to read. His mouth closed slowly, the sound of his teeth coming together an audible 'click' in the silence. And that silence lasted so long that I began to count it. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand...all the while feeling like a tiny little moron for baring my heart like this. What had I been THINKING?

It was on twelve-one-thousand when I felt a huge hand come down on my shoulder. I looked far, far up into the face of Tiffany Ardeen. Not as big and menacing as she'd been ten minutes ago, but from my vantage point, still freaking enormous. She was perhaps four feet tall now, which looked closer to eight to me.  If she was still shrinking, it was no longer noticeable. 

“Alright both of you, enough of that,” she said.  The words had the air of a school teacher who is tired of watching two students bicker. “I'll tell you how we're going to handle this situation.” She turned, wrapped an arm protectively around me, and pointed up at Anthony. “You, Mr. Spielman, are about to have two lovely, if rather petite ladies as house guests. This will likely continue for the foreseeable future, while Samantha and I recover enough height in order to make ourselves presentable.” She stopped, glared up at him evilly. “I trust you have no objections to this arrangement?”

Anthony laughed, though there was some nerve in the sound. The girl was shorter than his armpit, but she still apparently scared the bejesus out of him. “I suppose not, no. My place is a little messy at the moment, but....”

“That will do fine,” the little giantess interrupted. Tiffany spared him one last look, then turned, bent down to one knee, and surprised nearly three years off my life by pulling me into a hug. “Thank you for talking me down, sweetie,” she whispered, low enough that only I could hear.

“Any time,” I replied, struggling to put down the powerful twinge of excitement I felt as the much larger girl pressed her naked body against me. 

She stood, and once again addressed Anthony. “Get us anything you can find that we can dress ourselves in. I'll pack some growth serum, and later tonight Samantha and I will take our first dose.  It’s going to take weeks, and possibly even months to recover from this.  So we’ll just have to get used to each other.” Tiffany glanced at the clock over his shoulder. “And for God's sake, who's minding the front counter? It's almost five o'clock. We'll be getting our evening rush any minute!”