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    Best posts made by xformbob

    • RE: Anna and Beth (M/ff)

      Part 5 - Day 17: One day in the sun.

      The doll dress that had been purchased yesterday at Anna’s request lay next to her as she stood in front of the small mirror taped to the side of the books and tried, for the third time, to apply a tiny amount of makeup using the edge of a pin and a drop of water. The result was more doll than she had intended, cheeks too bright with eyes too wide, but she did not wipe it off. Instead she slipped on that pale green dress and stepped into the little plastic slippers he had carefully stretched for her. They were still slightly too stiff, but they stayed on her feet and almost felt like shoes.

      Beth watched from the towel without comment. She had agreed to go, but only if Anna came with them and stayed close. She had spent the morning quietly preparing herself for whatever might happen outside. The thought of being carried again made her stomach tight, but the thought of fresh air and open space pulled harder. She did not know if she was giving in or simply being practical. She only knew she wanted to find out which one it was.

      When he returned he carried a small woven picnic basket. Inside were two toy plates, a few carefully cut pieces of fruit and cheese, and a larger plate for himself. A folded square of soft cloth sat in the middle like a cushion. He placed the basket on the desk beside the shelf and opened the lid.

      “You can ride inside,” he said. “Both of you.”

      Anna looked at Beth. Beth gave a small nod.

      They climbed in without being touched. Once the lid closed over them, Anna spoke quietly in the dark.

      “See? I told you he would find a way.”

      Beth did not answer, but she did feel a smile pass over her lips.

      Then a short, or rather giant, walk from his apartment to a quiet corner of a park with a wooden table half-hidden by trees. When he opened the basket the women climbed out on their own and sat on the cloth he had spread. The air was warm and smelled of grass and distant rain. For the first time in weeks they ate without urgency. Anna’s dress caught the light when she moved. Beth glanced at it once, then said, almost gently,

      “You look like a doll someone dressed up for a tea party.”

      Anna smiled instead of bristling. “I know.”

      They talked while they ate, about the color of the sky, the sound of the leaves, the way the grass moved in the breeze. Small things. Safe things. When the food was gone, without a word, Anna brushed herself off, climbed back into the basket, curled up on the remaining cloth, and fell asleep in the shade.

      Evan looked down at Beth.

      She stood up.

      They moved to the other end of the table away from the basket. He sat on the end of the bench and she let her feet dangle off the edge of the table, but her arms were crossed.

      For a while neither of them spoke.

      Then Beth said, “You kidnapped us.”

      Evan was quiet for several seconds. Then he nodded once.

      “I did,” he said. “At least partly. I could have called for help that night. I chose not to. I told myself it was to protect you, and that was true. But it was also true that I wanted to keep you where I could control what happened next. I’m not going to lie to you about that.”

      Beth had expected denial or deflection. The direct answer knocked something loose in her chest.

      He continued, voice steady. “I’m still working on getting access to the reversal research. I think there’s a real path. But it’s going to take time, and there’s no guarantee it will work. I haven’t told Anna how uncertain it is yet. She deserves to know. You both do. There are going to be harder choices ahead.”

      Beth studied his face. He looked tired in a way she had not allowed herself to see before.

      “She’s in love with you,” Beth said. “Crazy in love. And you know it. Don’t take advantage of that.”

      Evan met her eyes without flinching.

      “I’m in love with her too,” he said. “I know how it looks from where you’re standing. But I’m not using her. What’s happening between us is real on both sides. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t complicated or that it started from a clean place. But I’m not lying to her about what I feel.”

      He looked toward the basket where Anna was sleeping.

      “I’m going to take care of both of you,” he said. “Even if you never trust me. Even if you keep seeing me as the man who took you. If you’ll let me make your life a little easier, at least you won’t have to go through this alone.”

      Beth was quiet for a long time. The wind moved through the grass far below her feet.

      Finally she said, “We should let Anna sleep in the basket. You can put me in your shirt pocket for the walk back. I want to see.”

      He nodded. He did not ask if she was sure. He simply reached down, picked her up with careful efficiency, and slipped her into the breast pocket of his shirt. Her head and shoulders cleared the top. She could see the trees, the path, the distant cars lining the street.

      He lifted the basket with Anna still sleeping inside and began the slow walk back to his apartment.

      Beth stayed where she was, watching the park move past her. She did not speak again. Neither did he. The arrangement was understood.

      They were not friends yet. But they weren’t enemies anymore either. Just two people who accepted the situation for what it was. For now, that was enough.

      posted in Stories
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: How would you like your SW?

      @i-am-insane Given that we’re talking here SW and not transformation proper, there are several classics that never disappoint:

      Taking a bath in my soup bowl while I eat my soup spoonful by spoonful from around her slowly leaving her naked and trembling in the bottom (clearly she’ll need some warming up), dusted with powdered sugar laying in the frosting on the top of a flourless chocolate cake (good enough to lick clean and keep on licking), and one of my personal favorites, secretly feeding me salty buttery popcorn from inside the tub in the theater trying not to get caught.

      But in truth there is no meal that could not benefit from a SW as at least a garnish, a utensil, or someone to play with your food.

      posted in Size Fantasy Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Back Again, Perhaps?

      Story posted successfully, great to see it up and sitting at around 70 views already. Looks like at least a few people have checked it out.

      I’m not fishing for likes, just trying to get a sense of how things work here. Plenty of older threads, but it’s clear some members are still active and regularly adding fresh content.

      Posting on DeviantArt just disappears into the void, so it’s nice to find a small (pun intended), tighter-knit community that doesn’t suffer so much from the cross over from other kink spaces.

      posted in Size Life Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • Some Shrunken Women from the Drawer (AI)

      I supposed that videos might be too large to post here, and I’m still conflicted about whether I should start posting on DeviantArt again. So I figured there’s no harm in sharing some of my older style images.

      The Pressed Flower

      Over the last few weeks she enjoyed spending more and more time confined in the pages of the book. It overwhelmed the fears that had plagued her mind with the brute for of confinement for her body.

      WIqS6U21DM.jpg

      posted in Artwork
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: M/f new world order

      @TakoAlice8 The reason I’ve never written M/f “new world order” type stories is because all the ideas seem to turn towards harems. It would seem to end up more M/fff+

      Back in the days of the Roman empire men having sex was just seen as a biological function of being male and whatever woman who was nearby was useful for that purpose. The only real issue was answering to her father, brother, or husband, assuming he was of sufficient class or power to demand compensation for his property being damaged.

      Now I get some folks around here like the darker side of things, and the over the top stuff hits in a good place for people.

      I suppose one way to do it would be for groups of women to intentionally team up, to look out for each other and find stable relationships that would be more difficult or at least rare with a giant.

      It might be fun to write something where men grow rather than women shrink and perhaps not a lot of men survive the growing process. That way women at least have numbers to balance out the situation. Perhaps some groups of women have even “tamed” a giant.

      posted in Size Fantasy Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Does anyone use giant/tiny to cope with mental illness

      Do not take anything I say as mental health advice. Work with a trusted therapist who is accountable to you and you can be open with.

      That being said, labels on feelings can help us feel like we are in control, especially when we’ve felt out of control for a long time, but they can also become our identities.

      Fantasies help us manage and escape that. Even JRR Tolkien defended fairy stories (though he didn’t mean smut it still applies) as a way for a prisoner to look out through the bars.

      I have plenty of problems (autistic, if you want one label) but I had the good fortune to be born in a time with thousands of stories, every one of them is an extra lifetime that I wouldn’t have gotten to live.

      I’ve read so many books and so many short stories and every single time I dive in and become someone new and live in their world for a while. Much less expensive than going to Disneyland.

      You can call it a cope. My life doesn’t suck, but I had terrible tragedy in it. I’ve seen some horrible things. But I don’t treat my many lives as cope, but as the kaleidoscope of me that’s gotten to live all those thousand lifetimes while only having one to spend.

      posted in Size Life Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • Henry and Sarah (M/f)

      Part 1: The Duplicate

      Sarah stood in the middle of Henry’s cluttered home lab, hands resting on her hips, the soft blue glow of half a dozen monitors painting shifting patterns across her body. The new cosplay costume fit like it had been poured onto her, sleek black and crimson panels that hugged the full swell of her breasts, cinched tight at her waist, and flared over the generous curve of her hips. The thigh-high boots added three inches she almost never got to enjoy in real life. Henry was exactly her height, five-foot-eight, and for years he’d gently discouraged heels with that shy, affectionate smile of his. “I like seeing your eyes at the same level,” he would say, brushing a thumb along her cheek. Sweet. Safe. Frustratingly safe.

      Tonight she had worn the full outfit downstairs for him, not just the camera. The fabric whispered against her skin as she turned slowly, letting the dramatic lighting catch every seam and contour. “Baby… what do you think?” Her voice carried that playful lilt she used on camera, but underneath it was something quieter. Hopeful. A little desperate.

      Henry looked up from his keyboard, glasses slipping down his nose, the messy bun of his longish hair slightly crooked from hours of focus. Silver had begun threading through his beard in the last couple of years, but his eyes still lit with that same boyish wonder every time he saw her. For a moment he simply stared, lips parted.

      “Holy shit, Sarah.” He let out a low breath. “You look… incredible. The detailing on the gauntlets, the way the panels sit, damn. Your subscribers are going to lose their minds.”
      The compliment landed warm in her chest, but it wasn’t quite the flame she’d been hoping for. Not the rough edge she sometimes imagined in the shower when her hand moved faster between her legs. Still, she stepped closer, boots clicking softly on the concrete floor, letting her hips sway just a little more than necessary.

      “I was thinking maybe you could help me with some reference shots?” She let her gaze linger on him. “Or… something else, if you’re feeling inspired.”

      Henry’s cheeks flushed that familiar, endearing pink. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that had never changed in all their years together. “Actually… I’ve been working on the new neural capture upgrade. It can do full-body scans now, texture, subsurface scattering, dynamic movement mapping, the works. What if we made a perfect digital duplicate of you in that costume? You could use it for thumbnails, 360-degree spins, even virtual try-ons for your fans. It’d be fun. And… kind of intimate, right? Just us.”

      A strange little thrill traced down Sarah’s spine, electric and unexpected. A copy of her. A perfect copy. The idea felt oddly vulnerable, almost naughty, like letting someone else wear her skin.

      “You mean like… clone me?” she asked, half teasing, half genuinely curious.

      “Not clone, duplicate.” He stood up, gesturing proudly toward the scanning rig in the center of the lab: two tall, elegant rings of sensors, soft LED lighting arrays, and a padded circular platform that looked like something out of a sci-fi film. “Come on. It’ll only take a couple of minutes. You just stand still, arms slightly out, and it does the rest. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

      She laughed, soft and warm, the sound filling the quiet basement. “Alright, nerd. For science.” She stepped onto the platform, striking a confident pose, hips cocked, one hand resting on the prop pistol strapped to her thigh, chin lifted. Henry’s eyes did linger this time, tracing the way the crimson panels stretched across her chest with each breath. Good. At least the costume still had that effect on him.

      He sat back down at the console, fingers flying across the keys. “Okay… initiating full-spectrum scan. Try not to move, love.”

      The rings began to rotate around her with a low, rising hum. Warm lights swept over her body in slow, deliberate passes. At first it felt pleasant, like sunlight on bare skin, or the gentle pressure of Henry’s hands when he massaged her shoulders after a long editing day. Sarah closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the strange intimacy of it. Every inch of her being mapped. Seen. Captured.

      Then the sensation deepened. A tingling that sank beneath her skin, pressing inward, as if the air itself was learning the exact shape of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the soft give of her thighs. Her breathing slowed. A heavy, velvety drowsiness rolled through her limbs.

      “Henry…” Her voice sounded far away even to her own ears. “I feel kind of… sleepy all of a sudden.”

      “It’s normal,” he reassured her, though his voice had grown distant, focused. “The neural lock is pulling a bit more power than I expected. Just relax into it, baby. I’ve got you.”
      Her knees wobbled. The world tilted gently, colors bleeding together. She tried to speak again, but the words melted into a soft sigh as darkness folded over her like warm velvet.
      When awareness returned, it crashed in with a jolt of pure wrongness.

      Sarah blinked hard against blinding lights. The padded platform stretched out around her like an endless stage. She looked down at herself, still wearing the skintight costume, every seam and panel perfectly in place, but her body was tiny. Ten, perhaps eleven inches tall at most. Barbie-doll scale. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she took one shaky step forward; the surface felt vast and soft beneath her miniature boots.

      “What… the fuck?” Her voice came out high and clear, but impossibly small, a bell-like squeak that made her own ears ring.

      She spun around and froze.

      There, slumped just outside the scanning rig, was her body. Full-sized. Breathing slowly and deeply, the rise and fall of her chest making the crimson panels shift and gleam. Her own face, eyes closed, lips softly parted, cheeks faintly flushed, looked serene and enormous from this new, terrifying perspective.

      And Henry… Henry was on his knees beside the full-sized Sarah, one hand pressed to her neck to check her pulse, his face pale with panic. His glasses had slid even further down his nose. “Sarah? Sarah, wake up, oh god, what did I do? The neural transfer protocol wasn’t supposed to activate like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, ”

      He looked so small in that moment, despite towering over her new form. So scared. So hers.

      Sarah’s tiny hands flew to her mouth. Her consciousness… it hadn’t been copied. It had been moved. She was in the duplicate now, solid, real, and heartbreakingly small.
      “Henry!” she called, waving her arms frantically. “Henry, I’m over here! Inside the scanner!”

      His head snapped up. His gaze locked onto her miniature body, and for one long, breathless second the only sound was the low whine of the imaging system slowly powering down.
      Sarah watched his eyes travel over her, taking in every exaggerated, perfect curve the scan had captured, the way the costume still clung obscenely tight to her shrunken breasts and ass, the tremble in her tiny legs. A deep flush crept up his neck. The panic in his face didn’t vanish, but something else flickered through it. Something darker. Hungrier. The kind of look she had secretly ached to see for years.

      “Sarah…?” His voice cracked, rough around the edges. “Holy shit. You’re… you’re so small.”

      She planted her hands on her hips, trying to summon the confident cosplayer energy even at this ridiculous scale, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “Yeah, no kidding. Your ‘perfect duplicate’ decided to steal my consciousness and shrink me.” She swallowed hard. “Fix this, husband.”

      But even as the words left her lips, a wicked, electric thrill uncurled low in her belly. For the first time in their marriage, she was literally looking up at him. And the way his gaze kept drifting over her tiny, helpless body made her wonder, just for a heartbeat, if either of them really wanted to fix this anytime soon.

      posted in Stories
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Giants, what's your favorite way to humiliate a tiny?

      How about just making her confess how much she enjoys whatever it is you are doing to her?

      This is especially effective with girls who like to play brats. Just get her to admit some aspect of the experience turns her on and she’s get so worked up her face will pop.

      It works so well because it comes from inside her rather than being forced on the outside.

      posted in Size Fantasy Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • Back Again, Perhaps?

      Well, I’ve already messed up by trying to post my new story in parts. Apparently I didn’t wait long enough between posts and I’m flagged as a spammer. I hope I haven’t broken something.

      I decided to stop by and see what’s what and whether there are still active communities out there for size stuffs. I’ve been around since the early days of the web, usually popping in for a while, make a few collages, write a story or so, and then I’ve disappeared for long periods of time because I’ve needed to clean up my internet footprint. I’m sure I’m not the only person that needs to keep this “hobby” private.

      I was disappointed when I started looking around DeviantArt. There’s a lot of content, but I was surprised when I looked at art or stories I thought were particularly good, but hardly anyone had seen, much less hit favorite or watched.

      Weird, some 200 accounts I’ve found that have some sort of shrinking woman or adjacent stuff, but a lot of them hardly get any engagement. Seems like the old forums might have been much better for that.

      So I wrote a new story (starting over again from scratch as usual) and I’m going to try to post the rest of the parts if the anti-spam software lets me. Read it if you want, or not, I’m just here to see what’s what.

      posted in Size Life Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Henry and Sarah (M/f)

      (if the anti-spam will let me post)

      Part 2: Overwhelmed

      Sarah’s tiny heart hammered so hard she could feel it pulsing in her throat. Eight inches tall. A perfect, living miniature of herself, still wrapped in the skintight assassin costume that now felt almost obscenely revealing. The black and crimson panels clung to every exaggerated curve, the way her breasts strained against the fabric, the impossible tightness across her ass, the smooth expanse of thigh left bare between boot and hem. She looked like the most expensive, explicit collectible a fan could ever dream of owning.

      And Henry was staring.

      Not with panic anymore. With something darker. Hungrier.

      He stayed on his knees for a long moment, just looking at her. His breath came slow and deep, each exhale washing over her like warm wind. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly, acutely aware of how little the costume actually covered at this scale. Her nipples had already tightened into hard little peaks against the fabric.

      “Henry…” Her voice came out high and breathy, barely more than a squeak. “We should… we need to figure out how to reverse this. Right?”
      He didn’t answer right away. Instead he reached out, slowly, giving her time to step back if she wanted. One large hand, warm and slightly calloused from years of tinkering, settled on the edge of the platform. His fingers were thicker than her arm. The sheer size of him made her stomach flip.

      “I know,” he murmured, voice rougher than she’d ever heard it. “I know we should. But look at you, Sarah. God. Every detail is perfect. The scan even caught that little flush on your chest when you’re turned on.” His thumb hovered just above her, then brushed, infinitely gentle, down the side of her body. The pad of it dragged over the curve of her hip, pressing the costume against her skin. Heat bloomed everywhere it touched.

      Sarah gasped, knees buckling. The contact was electric, overwhelming. A single finger, and she already felt caged, held, seen in a way that made her head spin. “Henry, careful, ” The protest melted into a soft, humiliating moan as his thumb settled lightly against her back, steadying her. Two fingers. That was all it took for him to gently cage her upper body between them. She was trapped, helpless, and the realization sent a fresh rush of wetness slicking between her thighs.

      “You’re shaking,” he whispered, awed. His face filled her entire field of vision now, those familiar eyes dark behind his glasses, the silver in his beard catching the lab lights. “Are you scared, little wife?”

      A little, she wanted to say. But the truth was more complicated. Fear and arousal had tangled so tightly inside her she couldn’t separate them. This was her Henry, her safe, gentle, slightly awkward husband, and yet the way he was looking at her right now made her feel like prey. Delicious, willing prey.

      “A little,” she admitted, cheeks burning. “But… it feels…” She couldn’t finish. Because it felt good. The heat radiating from his skin, the gentle but undeniable strength in his fingers, the way her full-sized body lay unconscious just a few feet away, chest rising and falling in slow, oblivious rhythm, while this tiny, hypersensitive version of her was already dripping for him.

      Henry’s eyes softened for a heartbeat, the loving husband still there. “If it’s too much, tell me. I’ll stop. I swear.”

      The offer melted something deep in her chest even as it made her pussy clench with need. She shook her head, tiny curls bouncing. “Don’t stop. Please… I just, I’ve never felt anything like this.”

      That was all the permission he needed.
      He lifted her slowly, carefully, until she was level with his face. His breath ghosted over her breasts and belly in hot waves. Sarah whimpered, back arching without permission. When his lips parted and his tongue, hot, wet, impossibly large, brushed a slow, deliberate line from her navel up between her breasts, she cried out. The slick heat soaked through the costume instantly. Every tastebud dragged across her skin like warm velvet, and her nipples throbbed so hard she thought she might come from that single lick alone.

      “Henry, oh fuck, ” Her tiny hands flew up, fingers digging into the soft skin just above his upper lip as another long, lazy stroke of his tongue covered her from belly to throat. He was tasting her. Exploring her like the most precious, filthy toy he’d ever been given.

      He pulled back just enough to speak, voice husky and low. “You taste like you. Exactly like you. But… sweeter somehow. More concentrated.” His free hand moved to her full-sized body, brushing a strand of hair from its, no, her face with heartbreaking tenderness. The contrast hit Sarah like lightning: her strong, confident self lying helpless and unaware, while this tiny, trembling version writhed in his fingers, soaking herself, desperate.

      The jealousy and humiliation only made her wetter.

      “Please…” The word slipped out, small and needy and shameful.

      Henry’s smile was slow, new, carrying just the faintest edge of teeth. “Please what, little Sarah?”

      She hated, loved, how that nickname made her core tighten. “Touch me. More. I… I shouldn’t want this so badly, but I do. Henry, I need, ”
      He didn’t make her finish.

      Two thick fingers slipped under her ass, lifting and spreading her legs as he brought her closer again. His tongue pressed firmly against the seam of the costume right over her aching pussy and rubbed in slow, devastating circles. The fabric was drenched in seconds, hers and his saliva. Every ridge of his tongue ground against her swollen clit through the thin material, and Sarah’s tiny body bowed hard, a high, keening cry tearing from her throat.

      She came embarrassingly fast. Pleasure crashed through her like a storm far too big for her miniature frame. Her legs shook violently, heels digging into his palm, hips grinding desperately against the hot, slick pressure of his tongue. A fresh gush of wetness flooded the costume as she sobbed his name over and over, tears of pure overwhelm pricking at the corners of her eyes.

      When the peak finally ebbed, she slumped boneless in his hand, panting, trembling, face burning with mortification and lingering bliss. Henry kissed the top of her head, soft, almost reverent, then cradled her gently against his chest. His heartbeat thundered under her ear like a drum.

      “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, voice thick with awe and something deeper, darker. “My strong, confident wife… coming apart so completely in my hand like this.”

      Sarah hid her burning face against the warm skin of his thumb, mortified and glowing at the same time. Part of her still whispered that this was insane, that they should reverse it immediately. But a much louder, much hungrier part was already aching for whatever came next. She could see how hard he was through his jeans, huge, insistent. Henri had his free hand balancing himself, his fingers wrapped around her full-sized thigh where her body rested nearby.

      She wanted him to strip her unconscious body and fuck it while she watched, helpless and dripping. The filthy thought made her whimper again, a fresh trickle of arousal sliding down her inner thigh inside the ruined costume.

      Henry seemed to sense the shift in her. His fingers stroked slowly down her back, possessive and soothing at once. “We’ll figure out how to get you back,” he murmured, though the promise sounded a little less certain now. “I promise. But first… I need to understand every inch of what you are now. If you’ll let me.”

      Sarah lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes. Her voice was small, shaky, but honest.

      “Yes, Henry. I’ll let you.”

      posted in Stories
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • Question about Archive of Our Own

      What are the impressions of Ao3 as a place to share stories that include fetish/kink content? I am aware that there are “shrink” tagged stories there, though it is often confusing to find them.

      It seems like stories, while supported on DeviantArt as a medium aren’t really the interest of the user base.

      I am delighted that my stories here have received so many views here, but it seems like (as has always been the case) the community has ebbs and flows.

      This forum appeals to me for many reasons and I’d like to learn to interact here more fruitfully of course. But I’ll confess that I have been unsuccessful in promoting conversation organically.

      Clearly people are here, the high view counts are demonstration of that. But it has always been “deep magic” to motivate the lurkers to post.

      posted in Size Fantasy Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Asexual Thoughts

      I just responded to another post of yours about personality, but I thought I’d drop an additional note here.

      There’s a ton of G/t M/f stuff on DeviantArt obviously done by younger women who don’t seem to intersect much with the properly naughty size scene.

      Personally I think that’s great. It doesn’t all have to be genitalia flying all over the room. What matters is whether the play is fun and rewarding.

      Even in straight up size smut there are scenes where characters have breakfast or go shopping or even fantastic things like repair spaceships together as a G/t team.

      If that’s the part of the story that matters to you, then enjoy.

      Makes me wonder if I should try my hand at some PG stuff just to see who might still find that emotionally satisfying even if they don’t… well… you know.

      posted in Size Life Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Henry and Sarah (M/f)

      Part 3: Withdrawal

      Henry worked through the night with the fierce, quiet focus she had always loved. Tiny Sarah stayed curled against the warm curve of his neck like the world’s most intimate secret, her cheek pressed to the steady thunder of his pulse. Every time his heartbeat jumped, when a line of code finally compiled, when he muttered a triumphant “got you”, a fresh shiver of arousal rolled through her miniature body. The scent of him surrounded her completely: coffee, faint soap, and that warm, masculine note that had always been home. She kept squirming, thighs slick inside the ruined costume, fighting the urge to grind herself against his skin like a desperate little thing.

      By the time dawn light filtered through the narrow basement windows, he had it: a clean reversal protocol. A second scan with inverted neural fields. Simple. Elegant. Terrifyingly reversible.

      He carried her to the platform with both hands, cradling her like fragile glass. “Are you sure you’re ready?” His voice was hoarse from lack of sleep, but gentle. The loving husband still very much present. “We can wait. Test it more. I don’t want to lose you, Sarah.”

      She looked up at his exhausted, beautiful face, glasses slightly crooked, silver threads bright in the morning light, and felt a pang of love so sharp it hurt. “I’m ready, Henry. Bring me back.”

      The rings spun. The warm lights swept over her tiny form. She felt her consciousness pour out of the miniature body like water returning to the sea, rushing, stretching, expanding. Then she gasped awake on the platform, full-sized again, legs shaky, the assassin costume damp with sweat and arousal clinging to her skin.

      Henry caught her as she awkwardly tried to stand up, wrapping strong arms around her. “You’re back,” he whispered into her hair, voice thick with relief. “God, Sarah, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

      She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, breathing him in. For a long moment it felt perfect, solid, safe, normal. Her body felt powerful again. The right size. They stayed like that for minutes, just holding each other while the lab equipment cooled down.

      The rest of the day passed in a soft haze of tests, quiet cuddles, and careful touches. Henry kept brushing his fingers along her arm or waist as if reassuring himself she was real and full-sized. She let him, melting into every caress. They made love that afternoon on the old couch in the corner of the lab, slow and sweet, the way they almost always did. He covered her completely, moving inside her with familiar tenderness, kissing her throat and murmuring how much he loved her. Sarah came with his name on her lips, fingers tangled in his messy bun…

      …but it felt strangely distant. Muted. Like her nerves had been tuned to an impossibly high frequency during those hours as his tiny toy and now everything was dulled. When he finished and held her close, stroking her back, she smiled against his shoulder and tried to ignore the quiet emptiness blooming inside her chest.

      That night she lay awake beside him in their bed upstairs, staring at the ceiling while his slow, satisfied breathing filled the dark. Her skin felt too big. Too empty. She kept remembering the crushing, delicious pressure of his fingers around her torso. The hot, overwhelming swipe of his tongue between her breasts. The way she had shattered from almost nothing. Her clit throbbed at the memories, but when she slipped her hand between her legs to chase the feeling, the pleasure was flat. Unsatisfying. Like trying to satisfy a starving woman with a single grain of rice.

      By morning the ache had become a constant, low-grade fever.

      Henry kissed her forehead before leaving for the city, new sensors, better power regulators, every safety measure he could think of. “I’ll be back by dinner. Stay out of the lab, okay? We’re not risking that again until I’m sure it’s completely safe.” His eyes were warm, protective, full of the man she had married. The man who would always put her safety first.

      Sarah nodded, smiling like the good wife she was. The second his car disappeared down the street, the withdrawal hit her like a drug crash.
      She paced the house for over an hour. Tried editing footage. Failed. Her body felt heavy, clumsy, unheld. She kept pressing her thighs together in the middle of rooms, chasing ghosts of sensation. The memory of looking up at him. Of being small enough to be lifted, tasted, controlled, owned. Of watching her own full-sized body get fucked while she trembled on top of it.

      Finally she stood at the top of the basement stairs, heart hammering so hard she felt dizzy. Shame burned her cheeks. This was insane. Reckless. She had a good marriage, a kind husband, a life that most people would envy.
      “Just… once,” she whispered to the empty house. “To feel it again. Then I’ll wait for him like I promised.”

      Her hands trembled as she descended. In the lab she stripped slowly, savoring the cool air on her full-sized skin one last time, peeling the costume off with deliberate care, folding it neatly on the console. Naked. Vulnerable. Exposed in every way that mattered. She stepped onto the platform anyway, nipples already tight, a flush spreading across her chest and down her belly.

      The rings spun to life. The warm lights swept over her. That delicious, velvety tiredness rolled in like a lover’s embrace.

      She smiled as her knees buckled.

      When awareness returned, the world had opened up again, vast and bright and right. She was tiny, just a doll. Perfectly naked. Every nerve ending sang with hypersensitivity. Her nipples were stiff little peaks, and a single clear drop of arousal already glistened on her inner thigh. She stood and stared at her giant unconscious body next to her. She had kept in good shape all these years, and had a popular cosplay channel, but she never thought of herself as hot. Maybe it was just the shrinking, but from this angle her own nudity was intoxicating.

      The moment was so intense she moaned out loud, knees giving out. She lay on her back on the padded platform, legs falling shamelessly open, and just breathed in the overwhelming rightness of it. Every inch of her felt alive. Her pussy felt swollen, empty, and starving.

      Tentative at first, she slid one tiny hand between her legs. The first stroke over her slick folds made her cry out, high and sharp. Two strokes and her back arched hard. Three and she came with shocking suddenness, hips jerking, a tiny gush coating her fingers while she whimpered Henry’s name like a prayer.

      She didn’t stop. She kept touching herself, slowly now, savoring, circling her hypersensitive clit, dipping inside, imagining his enormous fingers, his tongue, his cock. Another orgasm rolled through her, then another, until she was a trembling, glowing mess on the platform, chest heaving, thighs shiny with her own wetness.
      Afterward she curled on her side against the hip of her sleeping giantess for warmth, glowing, terrified, and happier than she had been in years. The full-sized body lay unmoved, beautiful, powerful, and suddenly… irrelevant. This was where she belonged now. Small. Sensitive. Utterly his.

      The sound of the garage door opening upstairs made her stomach flip with equal parts dread and dark, delicious anticipation.
      Henry was home early.

      Sarah sat up slowly, heart racing. She was still naked. Still dripping. Still tiny. She didn’t hide. Instead she stood tall on the platform, shoulders back, breasts flushed, chin lifted even as her voice would surely shake, and waited for his footsteps on the basement stairs.

      When she heard them, a fresh rush of wetness slid down her leg.

      “Henry…” she called, soft and trembling but clear. “I couldn’t wait.”

      posted in Stories
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Some Shrunken Women from the Drawer (AI)

      @xformbob

      The Demanding Sub

      It never stopped fascinating him how strong she was only minutes before they both knew she’d whimpering and cooing in his grip. But when it came to demanding play time, she was bigger than she looked.

      QzGpX5VDbM.jpg

      posted in Artwork
      xformbob
      xformbob
    • RE: Does your size identity affect your body image?

      @TakoAlice8 I’ve been doing some thinking about this, because I genuinely didn’t feel like my interest with Shrinking Women (or some of the other related kinks) had any connection to my body. I’d always assumed this was springing up from my overactive imagination. This was always a “creative” outlet for me and I saw my interest in it as sort of the adult version of when kids play cowboys and indians.

      Now the unnecessary autobiography.

      But I did realize something that might be more like what some folks have talked about. I have always been a big guy. I’m just over 6’ and lift weights, I played a bunch of sports in high school (I was/am built like a lineman not a quarterback). And I have a rather big personality.

      I guess you could think of my natural disposition as John Rhys-Davies or Brian Blessed, or if you watch anime “that American guy” who is usually a mechanic. I was in theatre and loved the stage, I sing well and play a couple of instruments.

      But from early on I was constantly being told to be quiet or various other versions of “don’t stand out and don’t take up space”. The church I grew up in was full of people who were salt of the earth small town people, and the culture there was positive but sober. They didn’t like noise or noisy people (we sang acapella with no mics etc).

      My father (also a big man) constantly cautioned me that my size, my voice, my manner would put people off. He was in sales and had constantly had to temper his own size and personality to be a good salesman. So what did I do? I cranked hard down. After a few years I found that I had formed a habit of constantly dialing down, pulling back, trying to take up less space.

      Despite my strength I’m constantly frustrated that I hold things too delicately. I touch everything like I’m going to break it. Can you see where this is going?

      Girls like manliness, of course. But I’ve been programmed for decades that girls are fragile and breakable. So…

      Oddly enough now that I look at it, I can see the symmetry. If I could shrink a woman, she could enjoy all the intensity she wanted she could be satisfied by the overwhelming experience of masculine energy and I want that for any woman I am intimate with. She can have that even while I’m holding back, holding her like she might shatter. I don’t have to worry about hurting her or scaring her in a bad way, she wants my “bigness”.

      Anyway, I don’t think that’s why I have the kink, but it certainly is why the kink and others related to it continue to flourish in my imagination year after year.

      posted in Size Life Chat
      xformbob
      xformbob
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