This was a fun little commission I did awhile back, and it occurs to me that I never got around to posting it to this blog. Likely because it pre-dates it by at least a couple of months. This piece is a favorite of mine. It's got it all: a gradual, slow-burn, f/f shrink fight, with lots of tension and gentle powerplay. Not only that, but I was even able to work my own, witchy OC Eve into the works. I should really write more about her....
Tags: f/f, NSFW, slow shrink, sizes >18 inches, light BDSM restraint and breathplay, light shoe and footplay, light dub-con
Following the Recipe - Pt. 1
When people asked Michelle what she did for a living, she always replied the same way. “Oh. I work in an office. I guess?” It was a non-descript answer, but then, it was a non-descript job. She answered phones. She processed payments. She entertained clients. This last involved tacitly allowing them to hit on her, while they waited in the lobby: flirting, but nimbly preventing things from going too far.
It was an artform, and, being nimble in many senses of the word, one for which she was well-suited. She was tall and attractive and extremely good at what she did. People tended to flock to her, which was okay, to a point. Michelle had been the captain of her college’s Division Two volleyball team: a minor celebrity, in a very narrow circle. She was used to having fans and admirers. As such, deflecting the advances of strangers came naturally.
They’d ask about her personal life. “I’m single, but really I’m focused on my career now.” Or about her height. “I’m six foot four, and believe me it’s more trouble than its worth.” The game was to keep the conversational ball in the air, until the little red light went on behind her desk. The older men made this most challenging, were the hardest to put off. The women were the easiest. Most of THEM just stared at her in awe, and many would even stammer when she offered them coffee, which was adorable. She’d even considered giving some of them her number, but this was probably frowned upon. Plus they were all too short for her.
Eventually the light would come on. “Eve will see you now,” she’d say, or, “Right this way,” or if she was feeling feisty, “Come with me.” In the back, past rows of cubes and copiers, was a small office with a mosaic glass window. Michelle would hold the door for them. And that was it. Once in a while she was called to escort them out again, but this was rare. Usually it was the older men. Most, she simply never saw again.
It was late one Friday when all this changed. Michelle had just finished sending a payment to yet another home renovation company, when the red light came on. She looked up on muscle memory, expecting to see a client waiting, perhaps one she’d forgotten. There was none. What is a Pavlovian dog supposed to do, she wondered, if the bell rings and there was no one to feed her?
Michelle did the only thing that made sense. She went back through the empty office space, to the mosaic glass door. She knocked.
“Come in!” a sweet voice called.
She was four steps across the threshold before she realized she’d never seen into Eve’s office before. It wasn’t what she expected – but then, it suddenly occurred to her that she’d never thought to expect ANYTHING from it. The room was cavernous, with a high glass ceiling and polished stone walls going far off in either direction. Everywhere there were plants. Tall palms and low ferns, fragrant bushes and flowers she couldn’t hope to identify. They didn’t seem to be potted either, but growing up from bare soil, as if someone had stripped a hole in the foundation.
Michelle pushed her way through the strange little jungle, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She could barely see the other side of the room through holes in the foliage; it must take up the better part of a city block! But there was another storefront next door. On either side in fact. And the sun shouldn’t be coming through the skylight this time of day. With the new condos across the street, this whole neighborhood should be in shadow.
“This way, dear. Take a left past the willow.”
Michelle stepped over a bundle of roots, found a gravel path in the dirt. She followed it. At the end, in a bright little clearing, sat a woman. She was behind a desk strewn with papers, a laptop hanging precariously off one corner. She was pale and pretty, with long black hair that trailed down nearly to her waist, and she was tapping distractedly on her phone.
The woman smiled, setting the device aside. “Ah, you must be Michelle. Have a seat.” She pointed at a chair that Michelle was certain hadn’t been there a moment before.
She hesitated, studying the woman up and down, sensing a trap. “You’re my boss?”
“If you want to use the term, sure.” The woman, dropped her elbows to the desk, and her chin to her hands. She twirled one well-manicured finger toward the seat encouragingly. “I just had to get a look at you. You’re making QUITE an impression on our clients.”
Michelle warily took the offered seat. “That’s a...good thing, right?”
“Mmm, yes and no. In general? It’s something I admire. But for your role at our company? It is DEFINITELY frowned upon.”
“I’m sorry,” she responded instinctively. “It didn’t mean to…”
Eve waved her hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s my fault. A problem with the recruitment I suppose. I wanted someone competent, and extremely attractive. You’re BLONDE too, so all that came though just fine. I thought I specified someone unassuming, though….”
She could feel hot blood rushing to her cheeks. Michelle tried not to get angry. “You SPECIFIED? I don’t remember ‘unassuming’ in the job description.”
“What DO you remember? From the job description, sweetie?”
Michelle stared. She suddenly felt cold.
“Nothing huh? What about your first day, then? Any anecdotes from your on-the-job training? Someone MUST have told you my name at some point, at least? Who was it?” Eve’s eyes twinkled green in the afternoon light. “Nobody. Huh? Like you ALWAYS knew?”
“What ARE you?” Michelle asked suddenly.
Eve nodded emphatically, pounding the table with her fist. “Great question! I’m a witch, of course. Or, well, that’s a good a term as any. You could call me a genie too, I guess? The concepts overlap, and neither is accurate.” She tapped her chin with her finger, thinking. “Okay. So, it’s like this. People come to me. They WANT things. They say words, though usually the words aren’t important. It’s the WANT see? We negotiate a price. And then...things change for them. Sometimes even for the better.”
Michelle did her best to act as if she’d understood this. She affected a casually lean against the desk, while inside she felt her life crashing to ruin. “So uh, tell me then. Eve. Why does a witch need a personal assistant?”
Eve laughed, the sound like the tinkling of a dozen tiny bells. “Oh, you aren’t my ASSISTANT silly. You’re my FAMILIAR!”
Michelle pushed her chair back, rising to her feet. “I’m WHAT?”
“Save you existential crisis.” Eve rolled her eyes. “You’re still YOU. It’s not even a violation of free will, technically. I made a spell to summon the appropriate person. Someone capable yet unobtrusive, who could fade into the background while doing the necessary, boring parts of my job. YOU showed up. So let’s investigate that, shall we? Because as much as I appreciate your work ethic, you’ve been making my life harder.” The witch leaned back, contemplating the impossible sunlight reflecting from above. “They aren’t thinking about anything, when you escort them back here, see? Except YOU. Half want to date you. The others want to BE you. Tall, and confident, and commanding. All the HOURS I’ve wasted getting them back on task....”
“Sorry,” Michelle whimpered.
“I said save it.” Eve softened. “Here. Let’s figure this out. Look at me.”
Michelle did. The witch came around to her side of the desk. The woman was much shorter than she’d been expecting – though Eve WAS a bit on the tall side for a woman, she supposed. Then again, most EVERYONE was shorter than Michelle.
Eve stood toe to toe with her now. She took each of Michelle’s hands in hers, studied her palms, then the backs of her hands. Her expression was appraising, yet there was an affectionate sort of curiosity as well. The look of someone trying to find a reason not to throw away a beloved but moth-eaten old sweater. “You’re very tall.”
“I’m six foot four, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Michelle responded without thinking.
Eve nodded, grinning a toothy grin. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
She discarded her stock reply for when the conversation took this path, thought about the question for perhaps the first time in years. Eve inspected a stand of Michelle’s hair, rubbing the ends between both palms, sniffing it. Michelle grit her teeth, trying to ignore the treatment. “It gives me certain advantages. On the court, it definitely did. In real life…it makes people take you seriously. But….” Michelle suddenly yelped as Eve gave her hair a sharp little tug. “Can I HELP you with something?”
“No, no, don’t mind me. Magic stuff, you know.” She pointed toward the floor, at Michelle’s sensible ballet flats. “Take one of those off. The left one. Your sock too. And put your foot on my desk.” Michelle did, feeling foolish. Eve ran the tip of her finger along the blade of her foot, her lips pursed thoughtfully. This continued, Eve’s movements an odd mix of clinical and sensual, until the witch found a point that made Michelle’s whole leg give an involuntary jerk. She nodded approvingly. “Other foot now. You were saying?”
Michelle sighed loudly, but obeyed. “I was SAYING, that being tall tends to attract unwanted attention. It makes SOME people treat you with undue familiarity….”
“Mmm,” Eve agreed, her face two inches from Michelle’s big toe.
“…while others get scared away. And it tends to warp your perceptions, too. Who’s worth your time. Who isn’t. Let’s just say…when I was younger, I made some choices that I regret. A lot of it had to do with being tall. I’d rather not go into details right now.”
“Ah. Don’t want to get too personal with your boss, huh?” Eve was fishing a set of calipers out of her drawer.
Michelle finally had enough. She stepped away from the shorter woman, crossing her arms overher chest. “This? Whatever it is? It’s done.”
Eve stuck out her tongue. “Oh you’re no fun. Anyway I’ve almost got what I want. One last question: would you change it?”
“Working for a witch? Jesus, probably.”
Eve laughed. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t dodge that question.” She sat back down, putting her kitten heel-clad feet on the desk. “Being tall. Michelle. If I could fix it for you? Would you want that?”
For a long time, Michelle didn’t say anything. Eve let the silence play out, grinning wolfishly at her.
When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You…you could really do that? Couldn’t you?”
The witch’s nod was barely perceptible. Her eyes were terrifyingly bright and green. Somewhere, water dripped from a high forest branch.
“But,” Eve said. “I won’t.”
“Why not?” Michelle whined, disappointment evident in her voice.
“Because it helps to have GOALS, sweetie. Something to drive us. If you’re going to be my apprentice, I want you to have something to WORK toward.”
The taller girl threw herself into her chair, pouting. “But I’m NOT a witch!” she said to the ceiling.
“Nope. But do you wanna be? It’s like, I don’t know, eighty-five percent horticulture? And the other fifteen isn’t hard, if you’ve got talent. I’m quite sure you do, by the way.” Eve dimpled. “I was worried, for a bit, that I’d messed up that spell. But I forgot that I left a LITTLE room for interpretation. So maybe you aren’t as unassuming as I wanted. Unless I miss my guess, you’re QUITE a bit more capable.”
“How’s the pay?” Michelle groaned, still limp in her chair.
“Stinks. Let’s focus more on the benefits package.”
She looked up at this, studying the witch with a wary expression. “You’re really going to teach me to do magic? To make, like, a shrinking potion?”
“That’s a LITTLE advanced. You aren’t even in kindergarten yet. Think more like, Potion of Slightly Redder Hair. Anti-hangnail tinctures. But what you’re after? I promise you, it’s not too far down the road.”
Michelle sighed. “Can I have the weekend to think it over?”
“Oh yeah, totally! But you don’t need it, do you? Special talent, you see?” She tapped the side of her head, then smirking, offering her hand. “I can tell when people have made up their minds.”
Michelle sighed louder this time. And took Eve’s hand