#micro/macro

[itsmoving]

i think he deserves it.

[rottentiger-art]

May or may not be writing something about this lol

[maned-dog]

Comfort place :3

Bsky

Tele Channel

[scarfofsilver]

HERE COMES THE SPIDER-WOLF

[only-got-size-4-u]

butch4butch

the real tragedy of this is that there isn’t a mini carabiner for the little guy

[archie-sunshine]

meter/skyblaze (bf's oc) micro macro indulgence

[maned-dog]

Comm for noobahurg & toast on bsky!

Bsky

Tele channel

[vixivulpixel]

Gotta work for Christmas presents these days sheesh.

[wr1ghtw0rth]

A few things I made for my friend @samioli 💚

I hope you continue to feel better and thank you to everyone who was included in this little project, it was so nice to see how many people worked hard to make something nice for a friend ☺️

[scarfofsilver]

tis truly a pirate's life for me...

[micmacrobin]

imagine one of these nerdy stores, you know, where you might find videogames, trading cards, anime merch... and among other things, a figurine section. different styles, different characters, some figurines made to look cute, some to look cool, others obviously meant to be sexy.

among them, a tiny, bound and gagged, forced to stay in the pose it's been put in, most of their body exposed. their outfit, which doesn't cover much, is a bit humiliating for them— but not as much as being forced to stay there and endure the people browsing the shop.

some don't really react— missing them completely, or only sparing them a glance as they look around the shelves, not giving it much thought. it feels quite demeaning to see how little they mean— just a product among many others, not even deserving to be acknowledged, and unable to do anything about it. it makes them feel really small; well, that and the fact that, from their position on the shelf, and with their impaired mobility, they can't even see those people's faces most of the time; forced to stare at their shirt as they consider the massive size difference between them.

but of course, this is still the best situation the tiny can hope for. the other possibility is that people do react, stopping in front of their shelf to look at them; some staying at their full height, unknowingly overwhelming the tiny with how big they are; others bending down, their huge face filling the tiny's vision, fully displaying their feelings as they stare at their forcingly exposed body: curiosity, interest, amusement, lust, or a mix thereof, depending on the person.

but that's not all that can happen. because for some goddamn reason, the store the tiny wound up in doesn't bother locking their figurines behind glass; so anyone can just grab them if they are so enclined. and grab them they do. along with poke them, run fingers all over their body, turn them around to look at them from every angle, fondle parts of their body between their fingers, pass them from person to person so everyone in a group can get a good look at them all the while commenting on that interesting novelty figurine— it's not every day you see a tiny used for that, after all.

unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, their rarity means that their price tag is quite high; and so people always end up putting them down after having had their fun. the tiny doesn't want to become the property of any of these people, but everytime, they have to wonder: would it be worse to be bought than to stay here, and be left to endure the same treatment from the next person that comes in?

well. does their answer really matter? after all, they do not have a say.

[maned-dog]

We've seen some macro, but let's go the other other way now. Let's see someone in somebody else's pocket!

CALL NOW AND GET 2 FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!

Bsky

Tele channel

[so-very-small]

apologies for the blatant peddling of wares but *drumroll* there is a new story up on my p atreon! smutty, trans-woman giantess x tiny woman, all in a soapy unaware shower scene. 2k words, already up and available for subscribers, along with a lot of other fun stuff :) you can find the page in my pinned post!

[microposting]

macro/micro nsft, consensual, f/f, dom/sub, foot fetish, ~1k words

On a lazy weekend morning, a submissive tends to her tiny domme.

on AO3 as well

The fine dust was scraped off the sides of the immersion blender with a butter knife, then smoothed into an even thin layer onto the porcelain tray, covering the thin floral decal for later discovery. On a separate plate, she tugged drupelets off of a raspberry and a blackberry and cut a blueberry in two. Maeve took the tip of her smallest knife and scooped out the seeds in the center, then cut each half into three slices. With the fruits ready, she moved onto the yogurt, dolloping it onto the tray and flattening it against the top. Now time was of the essence. Second by second, the yogurt was further saturating the granola crumbs. Maeve pinched each bit of fruit into arrangement, the blueberry slices forming an array of petals around the pips in the center. 

There.

She allowed herself a second to appreciate her work. 

But just a second.

Maeve tucked the little metal spoon into the yogurt and pinched the tray between her fingertips, ferrying it off down the hallway and into the bedroom. Her eyes shot to the corner of the windowsill to see that yes, Priya was awake, reclining on her cushion. She had her blanket pulled up to her chest and watched the birds, one hand resting on the cool glass. Without glancing away, she motioned Maeve over. 

All these months, and Maeve still couldn’t sneak up on her. Priya could feel her from across the whole apartment. It made her feel stumbling, behemoth, like a walking earthquake.

Maeve padded over and got on her knees, holding the dish out to Priya, balanced on her middle finger. She tipped her head down. “Morning, ma’am.”

“Hi, Maeve.” Priya accepted it. She took her first few bites in silence. Maeve was desperate to see her expression, what she thought of the dish this time around, but her gaze obediently kept to the floor.

“The blueberry is tart,” she finally declared.

Dammit. Last time it was too big, so she went with a smaller berry, but obviously the smaller one would be tarter. Shit. Okay, so next time she could find some similarly sized blueberries, cut each of them in half, sample one half herself, find the ones with the right combination of size and flavor─

“It’s good. Thank you, Maeve.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she murmured. 

“Get yourself some breakfast, Maeve.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She returned to the kitchen, dumped the remaining ingredients into a bowl, and came back to Priya. 

“I had a dream,” Priya said. She continued at her breakfast for a few more bites and Maeve waited in silence. “I had a dream… it was before I shrunk. And we had this ant problem. And it was all you talked about. The damn bugs. We gotta kill all the damn bugs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No…” She sucked on her spoon. “Just a dream.”

At Priya’s request, Maeve opened the window, and they finished breakfast in silence, listening to the birds and the cars. 

“I’m so stressed,” she grumbled.

Maeve bit down a smile. “Are you, ma’am?”

“My neck keeps cracking… my back’s so stiff… I feel like my muscles are barely working.”

“That’s just awful.”

Priya gave her a little smile. “...Could you?”

She was placed delicately facedown onto the mattress. Maeve laid on her belly, propped on her elbows, and stroked fingers down Priya’s back to slide off her silk robe, placed carefully to the side. Priya stretched out, unburdened by clothing, and Maeve took in her smooth skin, her squared buttocks, her twitching little soles. Her pointers settled beneath Priya’s shoulders and her thumbs along her neck. She pressed down, with a steady increase of pressure moving inferior. She continued for several strokes there, then shifted her left fingers under Priya’s breasts and traced her right thumb along her spine. In the middle of her ribs, she pushed her knuckle down in slow circles.

“Mm,” Priya muttered.

So she settled there, for a while, until Priya’s posture shifted and melted in her hand. “There you go,” she whispered. 

“Sorry, am I an orphaned baby bird or something?”

Maeve snickered. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Her fingers spread along the length of her torso and her thumbs traveled in conjunction down the length of her body, spiraling around her shoulders and lower back and her hips. She petted and kneaded and stroked and reveled in every sound and squirm she could stir up from her mistress. Her attention slowly moved distally, from her shoulders to her wrists, her hips to her calves, stopping herself at the ankles. She pinched wrists and hands between her fingertips and gave them their own gentle squeezes. 

Maeve always got a bit melancholy here. There was no finger-by-finger massage anymore, no progression from the meat of her thumb to her fingertip, no sidling her own fingers down the gaps between Priya’s knuckles. Such an obvious expression of how much servile ability she had lost. 

“You’ve been so patient, Maeve,” Priya sing-songed.

Puppy-like, she perked up.

Priya kicked her legs. Her toes dug into the bedspread beneath. “So focused all morning long. And I feel so relaxed now.” She pushed herself around and sat up. Her feet stretched out in front of her, flexing, twisting, flirting. “Finish the massage, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Maeve brought her head down, pressed her chin into the bedspread, getting her eyes as close as she could. Her fingertips stroked up Priya’s arch and nestled themselves in the curve. Little toes wiggled against the thick pad. The tickle made Maeve’s heart jump. It was worth squinting for them. So fine, so delicate, so perfectly formed, that high arch and those plump toes and beautiful round nailbeds. Would Maeve have ever pursued her, if Priya hadn’t been so fond of wearing woven leather sandals in sophomore year? Would she have ever known what kinds of spoils lay at the ends of her generous legs?

Her fingertips were too stiff, too clumsy, just a flimsy excuse to open for the main act. She pinched one ankle up into the air and inched her shuddering wet mouth towards it. Every contour molded against the smooth plush of her inner lip just slightly warm and twitching. Her tongue flicked down, and Priya responded with a sharp kick to the teeth.

Maeve hissed and pulled back. 

“Woo me,” she commanded.

“Sorry, ma’am.” 

She elevated Priya’s feet with her fingers. They nested against each other and Maeve planted a kiss on both together. “So gorgeous…” she muttered. Priya giggled. Her lips honed in on a heel, her toes, a ball. “Beautiful, beautiful woman.”

“You’re just saying that to get at my feet.”

She smiled. “I mean it. But I am just trying to get at your feet.”

“Sigh.” she deadpanned. “Pervert. Alright.”

Maeve’s middle finger slipped between her legs and clawed her down to the bed, forcing her legs into the air. Before she had time to even finish her scream, her feet were sucked into Maeve’s ready mouth. Licking, slurping, her tongue riding them back and forth, drooling, enthusiastic.

“EW!” Priya snapped.

Maeve smiled around her ankles.

She got her fill eventually and tried her best to dry off Priya’s poor abused feet. So fine, so pretty… she allowed herself another kiss.

Priya kicked her lips off. She stretched out, smoothing out the bedsheets around her. 

“Was it a good massage, ma’am?”

“Mm-hm…” Priya motioned Maeve in and planted a kiss on her lower lip. “But I’m still a bit tense… I could use a bath, I think. A proper one. Something to soak in…”

She’d have to somehow improve on last week’s oat-honey-milk-flower-petal concoction. A worshipper’s work was never done.

[maned-dog]

Firmly grasp the beast >:]

Made a ton of sketches in prep for micro/macro march mwehehehe