My review of Short Shrift, an F/m story by Aborigen. Links to the story at the bottom.
This was an excellent read and a good wank. It’s an extended treatment of a single encounter that one might expect to end much more abruptly and gruesomely. A number of distinct sexual activities are depicted in compelling detail, and Aborigen makes the reader feel every secretion and clench. Aside from the variations, what keeps the physical descriptions from becoming tedious is the frequent interweaving of the two characters’ inner narratives. This is key, of course; we care about the smut because we care about the characters, and Aborigen takes the time to establish them for us.
The introductory perspective is that of Candice, the instructor of an exercise group. She gives us our first look at the two main characters (in whose perspectives we will spend the rest of the story), and she is also important in that she is the only knowing agent of the size change that makes the plot possible. I actually would have liked more foreshadowing of this, as it otherwise seems too out-of-the-blue, particularly for the non-fetishist reader.
Fortunately, both Melanie the novice exercise student and Rickey the misogynist predator are sufficiently recognizable and well-developed that when the size change occurs their responses ground it in realism. Crucially, neither Melanie nor Rickey react predictably or implausibly to the bizarre circumstances they find themselves in. We get our fetish itches scratched, not because either Melanie or Rickey seek them out, but because they honestly explore who we already know them to be.
Aborigen is in fine form here, with sophisticated streams of consciousness and wicked observations. Most gratifyingly, he is unsparing in both sensual detail and emotional depth. I don’t identify with either Melanie or Rickey, but I’ve inhabited both of them, separately, during one my most obsessing fetish scenarios. An abiding delight.
Before the Internet revealed all of us to each other and encouraged us to make size content by size pervs for size pervs, we had to mentally “repurpose” mainstream size content. Such sources were usually sci-fi or horror or, tediously often, children’s entertainment. Here follows my ribald extrapolation from The 3 Worlds of Gulliver, which I imagined took place after Gulliver cures the Queen but before his witch trial.
This one is pure horror. No sexytimes, just woman-kaiju vore. Inspired by Nyx and Aphrodite.
Cadmus was brought back to consciousness by the change in the rhythm of waves slapping the ship’s hull. For days he had been relying on the steady cadence to stave off both nausea and nightmares. The latter had provoked the crew to confine him to the bilge, and his screaming only abated when the boatswain had given him the last of his opium stash.
He could hear the crew moving to their stations and re-rigging the sails. Lots of orders were shouted as the pilot began negotiating a delicate course. We’re making port, thought Cadmus. What should have been a relief was instead a wave of dread washing over him. It seemed safer at sea, he thought.
One of the reasons that Jitensha was motivated to create Daddy’s Dollhouse was that, in her experience, some M/f fans were inhibited from expressing their darker fantasies, more so than fans of other size fantasy configurations. One of her first posts was an invitation for everyone to share the darker stuff that gets them going. It has been supremely gratifying to read and contribute to this thread.
Be warned: The discussion contains fatal outcomes, watersports, scat, cruelty, and of course nonconsensual encounters. Please read and comply with the forum rules.
Scarlett’s unspoken nickname for him was Sasquatch. He wasn’t freakishly tall, probably not much more than six feet, nor were his feet disproportionately large. What was remarkable about him, what provoked Scarlett to near obsession, was his hair. It was everywhere. Thick and dark brown, it flowed scraggily from beneath a cap bearing the logo of a long-vanished tech startup. He wore a mustache and beard, of course, full but more-or-less trimmed. He seemed to always wear a T-shirt and cargo shorts regardless of weather, and Scarlett could see the brown curls coating his legs and arms, spreading across the back of his hands and creeping towards his knuckles.
Lacey was almost home when she got the text from her boyfriend, Will. Got a package from Grandma, he texted. He meant Lacey had received a parcel from her grandmother; Will hardly got any mail. Leave it in the kitchen for me, she replied. Will do! She hadn’t quite gotten tired of that response yet.