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Going Dark :iconscidram:scidram 7 5
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Trophy Wife :iconscidram:scidram 17 0
Literature
How the Chips May Fall, Chapter 2 -- Flush
“There has to be a logical explanation for this,” said Emily as she approached and put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder, clearly perceiving that Rachel was indeed a couple of inches shorter.
Rachel was still holding on to her loose slacks. Her sleeves hung to her knuckles, engulfing her hands. She held one arm forward to show Emily. “Look! Look at this! I know that ten minutes ago this blouse fit me fine. I...I swear it! You believe me, Emily, don’t you?”
Emily nodded her head. “Rachel, why don’t you come into the dining room? Maybe the others—”
“The others?” Rachel shook her head. “I can’t let them see me like this! I look ridiculous!” She looked down at the space between her waist and her slacks.
“I think you’ll find that you’re not quite alone in this.”
Rachel looked up at her friend. What did Emily mean? Were the others experiencing the same bizarre symptoms?
In the din
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Literature
How the Chips May Fall, Chapter 1 -- Full House
Rachel went to answer the door after the second of her guests had knocked. Standing on the other side was her good friend Julia, whom she hadn’t seen since the summer after high school graduation. “Julia!” exclaimed Rachel.
“It’s been too long, Rache.” Julia bent down and hugged her friend. At five-foot-eleven, Julia towered over most of her friends from high school. “Who else is here?”
Rachel backed out of the embrace. “Why don’t you come in and see for yourself? Here, I’ll take your bag.”
As Rachel walked away with Julia’s suitcase, the statuesque blonde found her way into the living room. Sitting on the sofa with her legs folded was Gwen, flipping through a magazine. Gwen’s fashion sense hadn’t changed much since high school: she wore an old pair of sandals, faded blue jeans, and a paisley vest over a white tee shirt. The only noticeable change was her brown hair, now cropped very short.
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How the Chips May Fall by scidram How the Chips May Fall :iconscidram:scidram 9 2
Literature
Desperate Measures, Chapter 3
When Charlie stormed into the lab, he expected to find Veronica there, but she was nowhere to be seen. He headed into the break room, but it was deserted as well.
Veronica had witnessed his sudden entrance and exit. It made perfect sense to her that Charlie didn’t notice her sitting cross-legged on her desk. Had she been in his position, she wouldn’t have thought to look for herself there. Time to face the humiliation and be noticed, she told herself as she stood. Wrapped around her body like a semi-translucent beach towel was a facial tissue, which she had struggled to remove from its trunk on her desk. It served its purpose for the time being, and as much as she dreaded being seen as she was, it was better than him seeing her nude.
After a deep inhalation, she hollered, “Charlie! I’m out here!”
He appeared in the break room’s doorway. “Where?” He scanned the lab. “I can barely hear you.”
“On my desk!”
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Literature
Desperate Measures, Chapter 2
Veronica cracked open her heavy eyelids to find herself curled up on the floor of one of the pods—which one, she wasn’t yet sure. Every bone and muscle in her body ached as if she had been crushed by something massive. Still, she was alive, a fact for which she was grateful despite the pain, and she hoped that it was simply a bad hangover.
As she sat, she shook her arms and stretched her legs. All four of her limbs were still connected and seemingly functional. Her head, her facial features, and her hair all felt as they should. She cupped her hands under her breasts and squeezed gently to learn they too had the correct firmness and size. Her brief self-exploration reminded her of her nudity and that her lab coat was hanging right outside the pod.
With some minor aching, she rose to her feet. Stretching a crick out of her neck, she winced, and her eyes clenched shut. “All in the name of science,” she feebly chastised herself.
When she looked around, she could te
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Literature
Desperate Measures, Chapter 1
“Three...two...one...activate.”
Following the computerized voice was the loud sound of electricity crackling through the air and the intense light pouring out of the windows of the two capsules on one end of the large room. Four figures—three of them standing and one seated at a computer workstation—watched through special safety goggles and waited for the light to fade. When it went out, almost as abruptly as it had first appeared, the staring occupants remained motionless.
“Charlie, open the door to the arrival pod,” said a commanding but apprehensive female voice.
The man at the computer glanced at the screen while tapping the keyboard. After a few clicks of his mouse, he looked up, joining the others in their collective anticipation.
The door of the capsule on the right opened with a hiss of escaping pressurized air. Mist formed as the warm air from inside the pod mixed with the cooler air of the large room.
“Did it work?” asked the d
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Literature
Short Time, Chapter 3 -- The Results
It was pitch black.
The darkness gradually broke as Suzanne slowly opened her eyes. Though the ambient lighting was somewhat dim, she could still make out her surroundings. She was lying on her back under what appeared to be a large yellow circus tent that had collapsed on top of her. The fabric, though somewhat thick, was translucent enough for her to notice that there was light outside. Since the fabric was not exceptionally heavy on her body, she figured she could crawl her way out from underneath it.
As she rolled onto her stomach, she could feel the soft billowy ground against her bare breasts. Where were her clothes, she wondered as she gave the rest of her body a quick glance to confirm she was indeed stark naked. Reflexively, she held her arms in front of her chest and slid her legs together to keep herself somewhat modest. Embarrassed, she timidly looked around, hoping no one had spotted her.
“Hello?” she called, wondering if she wasn’t the only one trapped u
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Literature
Short Time, Chapter 2 -- The Test
The siren of an alarm pierced through Suzanne’s head. Her eyes popped open, instantly reading the time: six-fifteen. “Shit!” she shouted, jumping out of bed and dashing into the bathroom.
Eight o’clock, she reminded herself, she told her team to be at the compound by eight o’clock. Usually, her alarm going off at six-fifteen would allow her enough time to take a daily jog of a few miles, return home for a quick shower, and still make it to work by nine. That was her error today, she realized, as she forgot to adjust her alarm to make up for the earlier starting hour at work. And God forbid she show up at the compound even one second late after demanding her team be there punctually. Any chance they had to criticize her they’d jump upon, so she’d have to sacrifice her running. Hopefully, the break in her exercise routine wouldn’t have that drastic an effect on her physique.
In the shower, she quickly shaved her legs, cursing each time she
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Mature content
Short Time, Chapter 1 -- The Briefing :iconscidram:scidram 11 0
Desperate Measures by scidram Desperate Measures :iconscidram:scidram 4 1 Short Time by scidram Short Time :iconscidram:scidram 21 4

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Everything went dark.


My head throbs, and I instantly regret opening my eyes when intense white light hovering above me scorches my retinas. My immediate instinct is to squint and shield my face, but I can’t lift my arms. I feel them extending away from me, and my fingers wiggle fine, but something restrains my wrists. I’m lying flat on a floor, the rough wood underneath me chafing my backside.

Why am I naked?

I remember blacking out, and I ache all over as if every inch of my body has been crushed. My eyes adjust to the light, and though it hurts to lift my head, I look past my bare breasts. My ankles are similarly bound, my feet pointing outward, and my legs are spread wide open.

Is someone planning on raping me? Or have they already?

I thrash about, trying to escape before my captor comes back, but whatever binds me—neither handcuffs nor straps—doesn’t give. My arms are pinned to the floor by rectangular sheets of thick frosted cellophane, about a foot wide and three to four times as long. What the hell are they?

Clenching my fists, I flex my biceps. If I can bend my elbows, maybe I can pry myself free. It doesn’t work, so I try again with every muscle in my body. My back arches off the floor, but my extremities stay fixed in place. I hold myself there for several seconds, grunting and sweating, until I fall back breathless. Are the sheets glued to the floor? Epoxied? Nailed? How are they holding me down?

“What have we here?” The deep, sultry voice is distinctly feminine, emanating from beyond the circle of light. I shudder at the first evidence that I’m being watched. “Cat got your tongue? Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She snickers.

“Where am I?” My words squeak out as I tremble. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you already know?”

I ignore the question. If she’s part of the organization I’m tracking, then they got me first. And since I’m naked, they must have my clothes, credentials, and weapon.

There’s a shrill, grinding sound as the lighting fixture suspended above me tilts, so I’m no longer in the center of its pool. I’m near the back edge, where it’s not as bright. She’s taunting me, beckoning me to look where the spotlight aims. I’m simultaneously too afraid to know and too curious not to do my job and investigate.

If she approaches, I’ll hear her footsteps clop on the floor. If she’s out there, I’ll see her cast a shadow. But there’s a dim expanse in all directions.

“Up here,” she says, her voice booming as if broadcast on loudspeakers hanging from the rafters of an empty sports arena.

With a gulp, I gaze upward. The indirect light illuminates a giant pair of lips, smirking and colored blood red, contrasting the surrounding olive skin. The bottom half of this face is too large to be human; it must be a projection screen, a ruse to frighten me into revealing my assignment.

An enormous hand emerges from the darkness, and I scream. I must have been drugged, and this must be a nightmare or hallucination.

But it’s too vivid, and I’m too lucid. I don’t just see the hand; I feel four individual digits wedging themselves underneath my left hip. The middle and ring fingers grope my ass.

“Firm,” the voice says. “You must work out.”

I focus on the distant movements of the mouth, bright white teeth large enough to bite off my limbs. The thought terrifies me, but I’m sure that’s their plan. They want me unsettled. Shaken. I won’t give them the satisfaction, so I close my eyes and concentrate. Maybe I can snap myself back into consciousness.

There’s sharp pressure against my sternum, like a shovel digging into my chest, which forces the wind out of me. Gasping, I open my eyes to see an armored plate, polished with a heavy coat of glossy red paint—the same tint as the lips.

Its softer underside squashes my left breast, a massive thumb fondling me. I won’t acknowledge this illusion as a real person because it can’t be. Such a person would have to be over fifty feet tall. Unless…

“You’re in exquisite condition.” A tongue emerges from the mouth and licks the lips. “More toned and natural than my usual acquisitions.”

If that’s an admission of guilt, then I need to end this delusion so I can make an arrest. I’ll need backup, but I don’t know where my phone is. Not that it would do me any good while I’m still bound and under surveillance.

A loud grating noise echoes in my ears, and I wince as hairs on my right forearm are violently uprooted. My arm is free, but my skin is inflamed like I received a lousy bikini wax.

“Didn’t think you’d mind,” teases the voice. The fingers slide out from under me, laying me back on the floor. The thumbnail drags along my stomach; with any more pressure, it would probably slice through me. “You’re smooth down here.”

The nail burrows into my vagina, and I yelp as it scratches and scrapes, the sharp pain paralyzing every nerve in my body. What kind of drug did they give me? What kind of examination is this?

I don’t feel the sheet being peeled off my right ankle. Either I’m desensitized to it now, or it’s because I shaved my legs that morning. Or was it yesterday morning? How long have I been here? My throat is parched, my body sore, and my mind reeling. I blink to prevent tears from dripping before they see I’m unnerved.

When the thumb withdraws, I try to curl into a fetal position. With one arm and leg still bound, I can only roll onto my side, my dark hair spilling over my eyes. Through the tangled strands, I study the translucent sheet affixed to my forearm. Its narrow ends have noticeable jagged zigzag patterns, almost like it had been torn from a…

No. It has to be an elaborate oversized stage prop, another way they’re screwing with my head. For ordinary strips of household adhesive tape to restrain me, I couldn’t be more than maybe six inches tall. And that’s…

Not…

Possible.

Something squeezes my left foot, plucking me from the floor. I’m still stuck to the piece of tape—it can’t be that—and I feel it being wrapped around my legs, clamping them together.

Four claws pinch my ankles and start lifting me. A construction crane, not giant fingernails, must be scooping me up. My restrained wrist impedes my backward motion, and to add resistance, I dig my free hand into a crevice in the floor. Or is it a nick in a tabletop? I can’t be that small! The opposing pulls stretch my body, and before I’m ripped in half, my arm splits through the tape with a deafening snap.

I writhe in pain as I’m carried to somewhere warmer and much brighter. As my vision adjusts, I notice a tall but bent pole. My eyes follow it down to a circular base on the floor not far from the remnants of the tape my arm broke through. Only from this vantage point, helplessly dangling upside down, can I see the large on-off switch and understand the towering structure for what it is. A desk lamp.

“Tell me why you’re here,” commands the voice.

I see the chin and red lips, and the light reveals a slightly upturned nose and high cheekbones. This hallucination is too surreal yet far too real, but I refuse to believe that she’s a gigantic woman or that I’m a tiny one. “No, no, no!”

“Then I’ll have to make you talk.”

She—or whatever’s clutching my legs—lowers me, and my head and shoulders plunge into icy cold water. The abrupt temperature change shocks me, and I spread my arms to swim up, but my knuckles collide with impenetrable barriers on both sides of me.

When I’m lifted out, I gasp for breath. Water dribbles from my mouth and trickles past my eyes and forehead.

“That was a warning dunk. Why are you here?”

My gaze drifts past her neck and collarbones. She wears a tight black top, its plunging neckline accentuating her ample breasts. The chasm of cleavage is wide enough for me to fall inside.

“This can’t be happening,” I mutter, hoping to clear away the horrifying vision.

She must take my head shaking as defiance because my descent is rapid. I’m able to inhale before I’m submerged, this time to my waist.

I force my eyes open to ascertain my surroundings. I’m in a cylindrical tank, about halfway to the bottom. The cold water is clear, but I need to breathe soon.

I’m jerked upward and out. I inhale, and in the chilly air around me, I see the breath I puff out.

“I can do this all night,” she says. “You’re not particularly heavy like this.”

“What did you do to me?” Between my shivering and the water dripping off me, I probably appear to be crying. I know I want to.

“You’re intelligent. In the FBI, after all. So why are you here?”

She knows. I gulp, but I’m not surprised. She must have taken my identification when she stripped me. Or did she shrink me out of my clothes?

“You still haven’t answered.”

Knowing I’ll soon be fully immersed, I take a deeper breath. I’ve been trained in firearms, hand-to-hand combat, and interrogation techniques, but never how to withstand physical or psychological torture, especially anything like this—whatever this is. I reach down to push off of the bottom of the glass—because that’s what it must be; a standard drinking glass—but I can’t fight against her drowning me.

She pulls me up before I pass out. My shuddering body is numb, and I’m panting.

“This is the last time I ask,” she says malevolently. “Why are you here?”

I shouldn’t compromise the investigation, especially if she’s my target, but I don’t want to die this way. Maybe if I answer and promise to let her walk, she’ll show mercy and restore me to my normal size.

“People… disappeared.” Hugging my arms around me, I speak through chattering teeth. “Suspected… human trafficking.”

I try to gauge her reaction from the curves of her lips, but I’m freezing and lightheaded. After keeping me hanging a few more moments, she says in a higher-pitched patronizing tone, “That wasn’t hard, was it? I’m sure you’ll make a great pet.”

My vision blurs as I’m flung, flipped, and ultimately released. I plummet until I land with a crash in the bottom of a transparent pit. Clutching my knees to my chest, the tape still binding them, I cower against the curved wall and glance up. A ceiling is twisted into place, eclipsing any view of her face. I only see her fingertips.

“We need to relocate.” Her voice is muffled. “Don’t want her colleagues snooping around.”

They’ll never find me, and I doubt they’d think to look where I am. Before my abduction, I had gone dark, cutting off all communication. By the time they catch her—if they catch her—I’ll be sold, my location presumably untraceable.

I’m jostled as my prison clanks against other glass. The fingers vanish, and pinpoints of light appear through air holes drilled into the lid. A cramped array of jars surround me, each containing a naked woman or man.

Drenched and alone, I curl up on the floor and shiver. The muted cries and pleas for help from her other victims will forever haunt me. I was supposed to rescue them and protect others, but I failed.

High above, two massive cargo bay doors made of cardboard start closing. Growing shadows creep over me until everything…

Goes.

Dark.
Going Dark
My entry into January 2019 Size Riot. The theme was Cruel. This story is F/f and contains bondage, nudity, violence, and some physical and psychological abuse. The theme was about cruelty, after all.

I typically don't write cruelty into my SW stories. I put my SWs in peril, and they're not always treated nicely, but I've never really gone into violence or abuse. But the theme was cruelty, and as I contemplated the extent I'd be willing to go dark, my mind mulled over connotations of the phrase "Going Dark" and an idea started forming.

I hope you enjoy, but please be forewarned it's NSFW and cruel.
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Tiffani slipped into the guest room of the mansion and quietly removed the lingerie from her shopping bag. The fabric of the pale pink babydoll was sheer, the darker bra cups embroidered with floral designs matching the thong panties. She stripped out of her clothes and put on the sexy sleepwear, lacing the ribbon over her breasts. She knew her husband liked seeing her cleavage—he had paid for her implants, after all—and she loved showing off her assets.

She made her way to the master bedroom, her straight platinum hair hanging halfway down her back. Stopping at the closed door, she listened to the faint moans coming from inside. Knowing his behavior, she smirked.

Porn, she thought. He’s already in the mood. Perfect.

She ran her hands down her sides, her fingertips lightly caressing herself and sending tingles to her spine. If he was priming himself, then why couldn’t she?

“Surprise!” Tiffani said upon opening the bedroom door, but she was the one shocked by what she saw.

The flat-screen television on the wall wasn’t on, but the orgasmic sounds she heard continued. On the bed, she recognized her husband’s ass as it vibrated up and down. Had their king-size mattress been old instead of one of those magic foam types, the springs would be squeaking.

“Ah, don’t stop, Victor,” said a sultry female voice under him. Her accent was thick, pronouncing his name Wictor.

“What the fuck?!” shrieked Tiffani, starting to sob and hyperventilate.

Victor jumped up off of the woman, taking a bed sheet with him. One hand securing the sheet around his waist, he held out his other hand in a stop gesture. “Tiff, it’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what she thinks, Wictor.” The woman moved fluidly onto her feet and stood, stark naked, beside the bed. Her wavy dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto the olive skin of her perfectly round and real breasts, which were larger than Tiffani’s. The way she stood, one hand on the curve of her hips and one knee bent, was almost like she was seducing everyone else in the room.

The thick carpet absorbed the sound of Tiffani’s footsteps as she stomped forward. Poking Victor’s chest, she cried, “You big dick! I’d never cheat on you!” She sniffled and wiped her eyes before marching toward the woman. “And you, you’re nothing but a…”

As Tiffani approached, her eyes widened upon realizing exactly how tall the woman was. Six-four at least, she estimated, just taller than Victor. “…a big slut,” she continued meekly, craning her neck to look up at her.

The woman stared down at Tiffani and cocked a dark crescent eyebrow. “Such rude vords from a little, insignificant vife.”

Tiffani raised a hand as if to slap the woman across her face but thought better of it as the woman’s breasts defied gravity right before her. They were intimidating. Arousing. And they smelled like feminine sweat tinged with a dash of roses.

“But they give me a vonderful idea.” She took a step back and clapped her hands above her head. Closing her eyes and humming, she thrust her hips once to the left and once to the right. Then she opened her eyes and held her hands high over Tiffani’s head, wiggling her fingers as if she was manipulating a marionette.

The lights in the room flickered, and Tiffani evaporated in a puff of pink smoke.

“Holy shit, Olga!” exclaimed Victor, rushing toward her.

She shot a hand forward to stop him. “Careful, Wictor. Vatch vhere you step.” She held a finger in front of her pursed, painted lips. “Listen.”

“Where the hell am I?” squeaked a faint voice from the floor.

Victor looked down and saw Tiffani’s lingerie rumpled on the floor, something—a mouse or other critter—scampering underneath it. As he looked closely through the translucent material, he saw a tiny pair of shapely human legs leading up to a tight ass. Right around the small of the creature’s back was the end of fine silky hair. “Tiff?” he asked incredulously.

“Where are you?” she called. An enormous tent from nowhere had collapsed upon her from, and the smooth fabric slid over her inexplicably nude body as she crawled forward until she got herself out from under it. Standing in an odd field of thistle, she looked up at the two smooth tree trunks filling her vision. They went up and up…

A shadow fell over her, and like projected a planetarium ceiling, she saw the other woman’s face. “Now I really am a big slut,” she bellowed.

Tiffani screamed as a giant hand reached down and snatched her into the air.

“Come, Wictor, make love to us,” said Olga’s booming voice.

Her breathing constricted in the tight grip, Tiffani tried prying herself free from the giant fingers, thick blood-red armored plates manicured at their ends. It must have been a dream or hallucination—the woman must have drugged her—because otherwise, it meant she had been reduced to no more than five or six inches tall.

Tiffani’s world flipped direction as the giantess relaxed on the bed and set her between two mounds of rose-scented flesh. Free for an instant, Tiffani tried to slither away, but the squishy orbs compressed against her and two pairs of giant tongs spread her legs apart.

“Wictor, don’t keep us vaiting. Bury your head in my chest.”

Watching from the foot of the bed, Victor couldn’t believe his eyes. The exotic woman he had taken home for a tryst pinned his miniaturized wife between her breasts. He considered calling the police, but they probably wouldn’t believe his story. He considered trying to rescue Tiffani, but if Olga had the power to shrink people, upsetting her could be dangerous. He considered running away, but he couldn’t deny his arousal. The bed sheet, still held around his waist, was pushed forward by his engorged and erect dick.

In a horny trance, he dropped the sheet and crawled onto the bed and onto Olga. He kissed her navel, and then slowly slid his tongue up her stomach to her ribcage. That’s where he first noticed Tiffani close up, wedged between Olga’s ample bosoms.

Her body was as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so in its smaller, more delicate form. She wriggled but couldn’t escape, and as tiny tears streaked her face, she pleaded, “Help me.”

“Lick her!” commanded Olga, her voice overpowering. “And play vith me!”

Victor brought his arms forward and started caressing Olga’s breasts, thumbing her nipples until she sighed. He brought his face forward until a faint and familiar whiff of lavender body spray wafted into his nostrils. Tiffani. Enticed by her scent, he wanted to feel her—wanted to taste her—so he let his tongue slide out of his mouth.

She screamed as the rough appendage made contact with her outer folds. She writhed but there was nowhere to go. Victor’s tongue probed her and held her down. Meanwhile, Olga’s breasts oozed onto hers, the taut skin compressing and twirling them. Through her cries and her inability to escape, she willed her body to go as limp as possible, hoping she’d awaken from the nightmare. She closed her eyes.

And then she released a squeal.

A small one at first, but without the bizarre sights of giant people immediately in her vision, all she could experience were tactile sensations. The pressure of hundreds of little bumps providing friction between her legs. The vibration of the mattress below her and the soft pillows on either side of her. Her fingers stroked the surfaces surrounding her, and a raspy moan from beyond rippled the world below her into violent earthquakes.

Suddenly, she was doused with warm salty water, as if a bucket had been emptied upon her. It was Victor’s aroma. She ran a finger through the puddle on her belly and then licked the sweat off it.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she purred. “Fuck me now.”

“I agree, Wictor,” added Olga, her breasts heaving Tiffani higher as they both panted. “I vant you to fuck us both.”

Victor lifted his head and stammered. “Wh—what?”

Tiffani hadn’t registered the comment. As soon as Victor’s tongue receded, she reached down to finger herself, the juices inside her already sloshing around. She wanted to come, needed to come. Any moment. Any second…

Then she was pinched at her waist and lifted up into the air as if by a crane. Her eyes reflexively popped open, but the scenery was a blur of quick motion. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms until she was hovering in front her husband’s face, as large as a billboard. Though he was as handsome as ever, her feelings of anger and betrayal resurfaced, though not stronger than her fear of being suspended relatively so high above the ground.

“Do something, you big dick!” she squawked.

“Did you hear that?” asked Olga, sitting up and grinning at Victor. “Again, your vife calls you that. Show her how big.” With that, she released Tiffani.

As she plummeted through the air, the apparent twenty or thirty feet whizzed by faster than Tiffani expected and ended almost immediately after it began when she landed catlike in a pair of hands cupped together.

Victor looked down at his tiny wife. Her body had always turned him on, but holding it his hands almost sent him over the edge. He could feel himself about to come, but he didn’t want to waste his load. He wanted to fuck both of them at once—the woman he controlled and the woman controlling him.

“Hey Tiff,” he said, rolling her into one hand and then scooping her up with the other. “After we’re done, I’ll raise the limit on your credit cards.”

He deposited her along his erect penis, her head by its head, and then crawled forward as Olga leaned back and spread her legs.

Terrified, Tiffani wrapped her legs around the thick shaft, slightly longer than she was. She knew where it was going, and she wanted to get off without getting crushed in the process. She clenched her legs tightly near its base and rotated herself down one side. It immediately rumbled with the rush of flowing blood and semen inside.

Victor groaned and then thrust himself forward.

Hanging below it, Tiffani prepared to let herself drop, but her entire body was squeezed into a dank and narrow chasm. The squishy walls inside Olga’s vagina against her back squashing her body and face against Victor’s dick, only her feet still barely outside. Between his musky scent and the humid air, she almost passed out.

The tremors of their bodies shook her, and their muffled but deafening sounds of pleasure and pain reverberated everywhere. The floodgates opened, and her body was drenched with a mixture of sticky and warm liquids.

Then everything went black.

“It vasn’t his dick that caused my climax,” said Olga’s voice from the dark heavens. “It vas your little toes twiddling my clit, so I spared you.”

Tiffani weakly opened her eyes, but she didn’t see Olga looking down at her. Only Victor.

He stood tall with his arms outstretched as if he was showing off his body. “Vhat do you think?” he said, but the voice wasn’t his. It was Olga’s.

“What the…?” muttered Tiffani, looking around at the expansive mattress where she lay. She was still shrunk.

“Wictor vas—as you said—a big dick, and I vanted a change.”

Whoever or whatever was in the room with Tiffani reached down and lifted her up to his—her?—face. As this entity spoke, Olga’s voice slowly transitioned into Victor’s, deep and masculine and without the accent. “I vill restore your size but you must live as my quiet and obedient trophy wife. If you refuse or try to escape, you will remain this size for me to keep as my personal trophy. The choice is yours.”
Trophy Wife
My entry into October 2018 Size Riot. The theme was giant couples. This story is F/M/f
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I'm sitting here at my laptop, three days after leaving SizeCon, simultaneously basking in its afterglow and bittersweet that I'm back in regular life.

As I drove to NYC last year for my first trip to the Con, I was definitely anxious about what to expect. The people behind the screen names were strangers, and our parents always warned us not to talk to strangers. Also, my primary size interest is specifically for shrunken women, particularly of the slowly shrinking, slipping out of their clothes variety. I have been intrigued by certain GTS images, so maybe I am a little bit bisizual, but BE and other expansions, weight gain, and vore didn't do much for me. But as the weekend last year progressed, I saw people--real people--who were like me not so much in specific interests but in the shared ability to be open and not judged about those interests. It was a community in the purest sense of the word. I walked around and explored the artwork on sale and talked to some of the creators, maybe not sharing their interests but clearly understanding them. And it was, pardon the pun, transformative.

It was also surreal. As I met the people behind the screen names, they met me. I wrote some SW stories back in the late 90s and early 00s and then real life came along. Over the past few years, I revised and self-published some of those stories. At last year's SizeCon, I had a booth selling them in paperback, and I was invited to participate in the writer's panel. I was taken aback by the wide-eyed grins and double-takes when people realized who I was, almost like they were meeting a celebrity. I don't look at myself as a celebrity, and I'm definitely not willing to be a public one for my SW writing, but it was flattering. I was honored. And I felt the same way about some of the people I met at the Con last year. When it was all over, I knew I'd be coming back for SizeCon '18.

Going for a second time is a vastly different experience. As soon as I arrived to set up my booth, I recognized people. There were immediate hugs and handshakes. I was also quicker to introduce myself to artists that weren't at last year's Con, and I met some great people that I hope to see again at future SizeCons. I brought the same number of books--I was one short of selling out last year--but didn't sell as many. I gave away a few to some people because I wanted to. But selling books was not the reason I came this year. The Con had expanded--yeah, pun intended--in ways that I wanted to experience. So here is my list of transformative events from this year's Con, in chronological order.

1) THE TINY CAFE. I gotta give the SizeCon team props for this idea. I understand the financial reason why they did it, but the greater reason--to have more interactive events beyond panels--made it all the more brilliant. I bought my ticket to the cafe, though I wasn't there for the gourmet food. My server, the lovely and talented Kindii, was slowly shrinking. Done with platforms, high-heel shoes, and oversized shirts and aprons, the illusion required some imagination and suspension of disbelief on the patron's part, but I'm a writer with a size interest. That was easy. And because I kept my eyes away from the ground to avoid shattering the illusion, it really worked as the top of her head was lower each time she interacted with us. As for those interactions, Kindii was phenomenal. I'm sure the other servers were wonderful in their own ways, but when there's a woman appearing to shrink in front of my very eyes, I'm all in. I didn't attend the Giant or BE cafes, but I hope these events remain for future Cons.

2) THE WRITERS PANEL. This year, we all got to have a brief opening statement about our own writing journeys, processes, or advice. Then, it was opened up to audience questions. I couldn't have been happier sitting among my writing colleagues, who are all professional about what they put out there into the community and about their encouragement to others who may want to embark on writing. I hope that all future SizeCons have a writers panel because since many of the interests represented at SizeCon can't happen in real life, we need to rely on our imagination, roleplay, or artwork and fiction to experience it. I'm sure the artists, both traditional and digital, feel the same way about their respective panels. So when (I refuse to say if) SizeCon '19 happens, I'm definitely willing to sit on this panel again.

3) WHEN THE COPS ARRIVED. At one point Saturday evening, three police officers came after receiving a call about some threatening language at the hotel. Two younger male officers and one female officer asked questions and walked around. I don't think the call came from our event as everyone was totally chill, but what made this funny was that five minutes after I saw them in the Dealer's Room, the two males were in the Wonderland Room playing Mario Kart. The female officer walked in and rolled her eyes at them. Classic.

4) SOCIALS! Another excellent addition to the Con's schedule. Rather than the majority of the discussions be in the panel-audience format, there were several informal socials scheduled throughout the weekend. About eight of us sat together in the Giant Men-Tiny Lady social sharing what we all thought was cool about that specific scenario. It was a great discussion, and like everything else, it was non-judgmental.

5) I COMMISSIONED SOME ART. Last year, I purchased some artwork that appealed to me. This year, I went the next step and got some artwork commissioned. I got two wonderful line art pieces about a woman shrinking and the antidote being just out of reach. They're fantastic, and I haven't yet scanned them in to share them, but the artist is named iamfilledwithstatic, and she's wonderful. Check out her work at the link. I also commissioned some digital collages by the amazing M-31, and I built up the courage to approach Koa, who appears in many of MaxGrowth's expansion videos, to ask for her autograph. It did take a little prodding, however. ;-)

I clearly had a wonderful time, and I can't wait for SizeCon '19. I plan to debut a new book available, and I will be selling paperbacks exclusively at the Con before the ebook is released. I've also come up with an idea for another interactive event to be added to the schedule. I've already shared it with Jitensha, GiantGripper, and Cezar Nix (who unfortunately wasn't able to attend because the terrible weather in the NYC/Newark area Friday night caused his flight to be cancelled), and they all think it could be amazing. I won't reveal anything yet because it will require a year's worth of planning, but if I can put it together, it could be REALLY BIG!

To all my SizeCon friends, I had a wonderful weekend with you, and I look forward to doing it again.
I'm sitting here at my laptop, three days after leaving SizeCon, simultaneously basking in its afterglow and bittersweet that I'm back in regular life.

As I drove to NYC last year for my first trip to the Con, I was definitely anxious about what to expect. The people behind the screen names were strangers, and our parents always warned us not to talk to strangers. Also, my primary size interest is specifically for shrunken women, particularly of the slowly shrinking, slipping out of their clothes variety. I have been intrigued by certain GTS images, so maybe I am a little bit bisizual, but BE and other expansions, weight gain, and vore didn't do much for me. But as the weekend last year progressed, I saw people--real people--who were like me not so much in specific interests but in the shared ability to be open and not judged about those interests. It was a community in the purest sense of the word. I walked around and explored the artwork on sale and talked to some of the creators, maybe not sharing their interests but clearly understanding them. And it was, pardon the pun, transformative.

It was also surreal. As I met the people behind the screen names, they met me. I wrote some SW stories back in the late 90s and early 00s and then real life came along. Over the past few years, I revised and self-published some of those stories. At last year's SizeCon, I had a booth selling them in paperback, and I was invited to participate in the writer's panel. I was taken aback by the wide-eyed grins and double-takes when people realized who I was, almost like they were meeting a celebrity. I don't look at myself as a celebrity, and I'm definitely not willing to be a public one for my SW writing, but it was flattering. I was honored. And I felt the same way about some of the people I met at the Con last year. When it was all over, I knew I'd be coming back for SizeCon '18.

Going for a second time is a vastly different experience. As soon as I arrived to set up my booth, I recognized people. There were immediate hugs and handshakes. I was also quicker to introduce myself to artists that weren't at last year's Con, and I met some great people that I hope to see again at future SizeCons. I brought the same number of books--I was one short of selling out last year--but didn't sell as many. I gave away a few to some people because I wanted to. But selling books was not the reason I came this year. The Con had expanded--yeah, pun intended--in ways that I wanted to experience. So here is my list of transformative events from this year's Con, in chronological order.

1) THE TINY CAFE. I gotta give the SizeCon team props for this idea. I understand the financial reason why they did it, but the greater reason--to have more interactive events beyond panels--made it all the more brilliant. I bought my ticket to the cafe, though I wasn't there for the gourmet food. My server, the lovely and talented Kindii, was slowly shrinking. Done with platforms, high-heel shoes, and oversized shirts and aprons, the illusion required some imagination and suspension of disbelief on the patron's part, but I'm a writer with a size interest. That was easy. And because I kept my eyes away from the ground to avoid shattering the illusion, it really worked as the top of her head was lower each time she interacted with us. As for those interactions, Kindii was phenomenal. I'm sure the other servers were wonderful in their own ways, but when there's a woman appearing to shrink in front of my very eyes, I'm all in. I didn't attend the Giant or BE cafes, but I hope these events remain for future Cons.

2) THE WRITERS PANEL. This year, we all got to have a brief opening statement about our own writing journeys, processes, or advice. Then, it was opened up to audience questions. I couldn't have been happier sitting among my writing colleagues, who are all professional about what they put out there into the community and about their encouragement to others who may want to embark on writing. I hope that all future SizeCons have a writers panel because since many of the interests represented at SizeCon can't happen in real life, we need to rely on our imagination, roleplay, or artwork and fiction to experience it. I'm sure the artists, both traditional and digital, feel the same way about their respective panels. So when (I refuse to say if) SizeCon '19 happens, I'm definitely willing to sit on this panel again.

3) WHEN THE COPS ARRIVED. At one point Saturday evening, three police officers came after receiving a call about some threatening language at the hotel. Two younger male officers and one female officer asked questions and walked around. I don't think the call came from our event as everyone was totally chill, but what made this funny was that five minutes after I saw them in the Dealer's Room, the two males were in the Wonderland Room playing Mario Kart. The female officer walked in and rolled her eyes at them. Classic.

4) SOCIALS! Another excellent addition to the Con's schedule. Rather than the majority of the discussions be in the panel-audience format, there were several informal socials scheduled throughout the weekend. About eight of us sat together in the Giant Men-Tiny Lady social sharing what we all thought was cool about that specific scenario. It was a great discussion, and like everything else, it was non-judgmental.

5) I COMMISSIONED SOME ART. Last year, I purchased some artwork that appealed to me. This year, I went the next step and got some artwork commissioned. I got two wonderful line art pieces about a woman shrinking and the antidote being just out of reach. They're fantastic, and I haven't yet scanned them in to share them, but the artist is named iamfilledwithstatic, and she's wonderful. Check out her work at the link. I also commissioned some digital collages by the amazing M-31, and I built up the courage to approach Koa, who appears in many of MaxGrowth's expansion videos, to ask for her autograph. It did take a little prodding, however. ;-)

I clearly had a wonderful time, and I can't wait for SizeCon '19. I plan to debut a new book available, and I will be selling paperbacks exclusively at the Con before the ebook is released. I've also come up with an idea for another interactive event to be added to the schedule. I've already shared it with Jitensha, GiantGripper, and Cezar Nix (who unfortunately wasn't able to attend because the terrible weather in the NYC/Newark area Friday night caused his flight to be cancelled), and they all think it could be amazing. I won't reveal anything yet because it will require a year's worth of planning, but if I can put it together, it could be REALLY BIG!

To all my SizeCon friends, I had a wonderful weekend with you, and I look forward to doing it again.

Comments


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:icondavren57:
davren57 Featured By Owner Apr 6, 2019
Thanks for the watch. 
Reply
:iconfetish-fotos:
Fetish-Fotos Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2018
Thanks for the watch! :)
Reply
:iconpraedatorius:
praedatorius Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
It was great talking to you at SizeCon last weekend. Let's talk again soon!
Reply
:iconscidram:
scidram Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2017
Yes it was. So glad I came this year. Was so relaxing to be able to be open and relaxed about everything, and to meet online names in the flesh.
Reply
:iconpraedatorius:
praedatorius Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
By the way, I bought your other book on Amazon and it just arrived. I plan on reading it while I'm at the beach next week. Can't wait!
Reply
:iconscidram:
scidram Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2017
Thank you so much, and I'm glad it arrived. I hope you enjoy it.
Reply
:iconmisterdoe:
misterdoe Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for watching! :)
Reply
:iconjitenshasw:
JitenshaSW Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch ^^
Reply
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