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sylvia / late winter / year 4
Barely their own height's distance from the glove now, Sylvia's shaky steps came to a halt when the scent first hit them. Quivering eyes stared at the dark, lazily yawning opening of the leather glove, its worn wrist unobstructed and plenty large enough for them to crawl into entirely, out of sight...but something about being close enough to smell the traces of Her reminded them abruptly of what a raw trespass they were committing. This was such a personal space, even if it was small enough to escape notice. Who thought much about the insides of their gloves, anyway? But the fact that Sylvia knew Iris had an appreciation for such attention to small details made the violation feel all the more unforgivable.
The glove itself was quality black sheepskin with an inviting fleece lining inside, clearly purchased for longevity and enjoying a loving life of frequent use. Sylvia kept themselves from shying away from the strange envy they felt for it, briefly. They had seen Her wearing the same pair back in the old times. Maybe that was the source of the strange sense of attachment to them that was now giving Sylvia a lump in their throat as they forced their feet forward toward the opening. They had come this far.
The scent was stronger at the opening, and Sylvia paused to close their eyes as their quaking hand finally rested on the edge, heart fluttering. The perfume beneath the scent of leather, layered over time where the wrist brushed against the material constantly. Damp moss, fresh earth, sandalwood, a trace of black musk and balsam. Her sweat. God almighty, SYLVIA! They withdrew their hand from the fabric as if scorched by fire, holding it close to their chest and looking down at the floor in shame. What had become of them?
Years ago, what felt like a lifetime ago, they hadn't even liked...well, they hadn't thought of themselves as anything but a straight woman. Now, the idea of considering themselves a woman at all in Her presence, in moments like this, had started to feel almost uncomfortable. Inappropriate somehow. The use of "she" for Sylvia felt perfectly fine coming from others, but in moments like this, it...did not fit, like clashing tones in an otherwise serviceable outfit. Fine in other contexts, but not around Iris, not that they would ever breathe a word of that to any of the others. There was just a feeling of irreverence to sharing the same terms as Her when She was close. No such things even used to cross Sylvia's mind.
Now, they had just felt their face flush at the smell of the sweat of a woman's hand. They were also standing out in the open far too long, considering what they were here to do.
Seizing the impulse, Sylvia thrust themselves inside the glove, falling to their hands and knees as they straightened their little white nightgown behind them while crawling into the darkness. The instant they felt they were sufficiently out of sight, they collapsed against the fleece and buried their face in it, breathing deeply and nearly sobbing on exhale. Bare arms spread over the surface and reveled in the texture. Fleece had always felt heavenly on a sensory level to their skin, and it had been such a profound mercy to learn this hadn't changed with their new size. On the contrary, they clawed their way out of the nightgown to feel it uninhibited against their thighs, their stomach, their chest-
Sylvia rolled over and panted, heart pounding, arms folding in against their chest. Finally. Finally. They felt alone. They felt private. They were surrounded by Her. They'd missed this so, so badly.
In the moments, they never thought they'd be so wistful for the earliest days of having been this pathetic size. It wasn't a word they'd ever say out loud nowadays, especially not in earshot of the others, but it had been the most frequent one when they were first adjusting to their new life. Of course they hadn't been able to appreciate it in the throes of those growing pains. Back then, learning to live under Her had felt like the most humiliating and dangerous experience of their life.
In hindsight, there had been something deeply, troublingly freeing about those long months they wished they'd savored while it had lasted. They didn't resent the others for showing up. They wouldn't wish the outside wilderness on anyone, especially not knowing what life was like for so many poor souls in those first few weeks when people started shrinking. There were many in the first waves of it happening who had been much less lucky than Sylvia. Meanwhile, all Syl had needed to do was make it up to the unit right above their apartment, where She had lived back then, on the hunch that never hearing Her footsteps through their ceiling meant She might be a somewhat less thunderous giant to live beneath, more like a pest than they'd ever feel comfortable admitting back then. If only they had known then how much they'd lucked out.
Sylvia rolled over and army-crawled to the nearest stitching where the thumb of the glove began, and they curled their body around it like a pillow, mouth clamping around a tuft of the soft fabric before they could let themselves get too embarrassed to continue. They licked it. They were shaking while they did it. The taste made them clench their eyes hard, because it was the lining of a damn glove, not something meant to be tasted by a person, but they wouldn't dare think to stop now, nor let themselves think that the rules of People applied to them anymore. Why were they this wet?
They stuck two fingers into their mouth and worked the hand down past the fabric and between their legs until they felt their swollen clit. A ripple of warmth rolled through their body immediately, like a tense muscle nearly forgotten getting touched after far too long. It wasn't that they couldn't get privacy ordinarily. This kind of privacy was just...different.
This was far from their first time stealing some alone-time with some of Iris's belongings. It was only in those months before the others started showing up that they really had the freedom to do such unspeakable things. Such flat-out wrong things. They knew they were wrong. Iris knew nothing of this and certainly hadn't given anything like permission. Had shrinking altered their mind somehow? Of course it had. The greater implications of that idea worried them as much as it helped the relieving feeling of giving in as they mindlessly tried to hump the little corner of the glove where the joining of the thumb and index finger rested. Even if anything Sylvia left behind tonight wasn't evaporated by the next time tomorrow that Iris needed these gloves, She would only think it was a little leftover sweat from the day before. Syl knew, because they'd gotten away with it already. Iris never even noticed back then and wouldn't now. She had never noticed traces of Sylvia's presence on other articles of clothing either.
They pulled their legs up and maneuvered themselves to straddle the spot where the index and middle fingers joined, their face down against the spot where Her palm would be. They spread their arms out first, letting themselves breathe slowly and feel the fabric under them, really feel it, the way they had early on. In the weeks where they were still crying themselves to sleep at night, one of the little things they'd use to calm themselves down and look for silver linings had been to shamelessly feel how textures around them in everyday objects had changed. Wood. Pillows. Their own clothes. That had been so...relieving. It was still relieving. And so much better that everything they touched now was Hers.
Hers.
By the time they realized their mind was drifting, their arms had already drawn back in and cradled their own body, but they didn't feel the need to resist it. They were alone. They were unseen. They kissed the glove and left their lips there, Their heart fluttered. Their hips had started rocking at some point, albeit hesitantly, as the texture of the fabric between their legs wasn't as agreeable as their need to push themselves into it. Still, warmth welled in their lower stomach, and they let their right hand cup their breast, just to hold at first, then to feel over and clench their jaw on realizing how stiff their nipples had gotten. The other hand ran through the messy tresses that clung to and had wrapped around their neck as they'd gotten situated, then covered their head as they squeezed the fingers with their thighs once more before squirming free and pushing themselves to the opening to catch their breath. Gloves weren't made for ventilation. They didn't stay long before diving down again and rolling onto their back.
They let their mind wander the way it had wanted to. It had been special, being alone under Her. For all the pain and humiliation, there had been such peaceful, private moments that they knew they would remember for the rest of their life, and so many of them like this, burrowed away from sight and simply allowing themselves the moment. Their fingers slid down to their clit and played with it while they remembered their first time. It hadn't been nearly so personal like this. They'd just been looking for somewhere more pleasant than their early hideout spots to relax for a moment while they knew She was out of the house for the day.
It had been a robe. Oversized, impossibly fluffy, soot black like so much of Her wardrobe (always warm blacks, rarely cold blacks). It had been, and still was, one of Her favorite pieces of loungewear, which Sylvia had always liked the spirit of. A single piece of comfy fabric one could just throw on. The comfiness had been the draw when Sylvia saw it had fallen off its usual spot at the foot of the bed and pooled at the floor. They'd dove into it without hesitation and wiggled around the way they'd been doing in the glove tonight. Perfect texture. That alone had been sublime, but in the process, they'd gone and practically bathed themselves in Her scent for the first time without even meaning to. It had imprinted itself on them and given them the same comforting warmth they felt now. They'd burrowed into its pocket and gotten off to the thought of Her coming home early and pulling the robe over Her shoulders before they had a chance to escape.
Her. Their fingers pushed past their lips and worked their way in. A ripple of warmth welcomed them and slowly spread while she let their head fall to the side to lay flush with the side of the glove, breathing slowly with eyes clenched. Memories of watching Iris pull this same glove over Her hand in the mornings on Her way out the door, tugging it snug and flexing her long fingers, a thoughtless action that defined much of this simple article's entire existence. Thoughts intruded. They thought of Her hand sliding into the glove while they were still inside, too terrified to yelp, feeling pinned between this fabric and Her palm before it squeezed around them-
They whimpered and shuddered, cracking their eyes open to look once more toward the glove's opening. All clear, or clear enough as far as they were willing to investigate right then. It was becoming hard to care about the possibility of any of the others hearing them in this state. Sylvia couldn't begin to imagine what they would think of them. They'd been the one to help each one of them adjust to life in Iris's house as they'd trickled in. More than one of them had told them they thought of Syl as an older sister.
They hated how warm the risk of ruining that reputation made them feel. That pang of guilt and shame sent butterflies through their stomach as they stroked themselves in their pitiful little corner of the glove. As their heart raced, they felt attuned to the lattice of tensing muscles deep within them in a way they hadn't all week. It disgusted them how it was these thoughts that made their body feel so awake. Allowing themselves their own disgust was part of the freedom they afforded themselves in these moments. It almost helped. They were licking worn fabric, for god's sake. Why did their most pathetic moments feel truest to what made them feel like this?
And She had no idea. Sylvia's felt a throb ripple through them at that little reminder and clenched their eyes harder. Of course they didn't entertain the idea that Iris hadn't noticed something about Sylvia. Despite being told all their life they were soft-spoken and hard to read, they did not feel subtle, and it was a challenge to behave normally around Her, but She couldn't possibly know they got up to things like this without confronting them about it. Surely. Right?
The thought that they could be wrong and Iris just feigning ignorance was, unfortunately, new and electrifying. How miserable that would have been for them. Pathetic. Warmth welled into heat that made them ache. They gave their fingers a rest and slid them out to massage their clit. How long had She really known about them before they'd finally been caught? What if She had lied to be polite? They used their free arm to cross over their chest and push up against their breasts, remembering the feeling of Iris's finger scooping their tiny body up the first time, holding themselves in a way that reminded them of how terrifying that pressure on their chest had been back then. She was so, so careful with all of them these days, only ever offering them an open palm to climb into. Getting caught had been different. Sylvia had run from Her. They'd lost their nerve from finally making eye contact, and rather than risk losing contact forever, Iris had chosen to let Her hand dart out and, as carefully as She could, catch Sylvia with just a couple of fingers that swept them into a cupped palm they'd rolled into screaming, balling up in terror as if death were a certainty...just before Her low voice had begun to shush them in as comforting a tone as She could offer, felt so immensely in their body that the shock alone had silenced them, even before it spoke their name in dawning realization, the first time they'd heard it since they shrunk. When they'd forced their eyes open to look at their former neighbor, they were confronted with Her densely freckled face taking up most of their view, and those dark eyes looking at them with that striking fascination that had made their nerves melt, impossibly soft palm creases thoughtlessly caressing the sides of their body-
Sylvia felt the orgasm start to crest, and they turned their head to stuff their mouth with fabric to stifle the noise that escaped them as it wracked all two inches of their body. They writhed against the glove's surface as warmth unspooled through them and emptied the tension in them in crashing waves. The thought of Iris pulling Her glove on tomorrow and feeling the faintest trace of residue moisture tomorrow morning thrilled Sylvia in a way that made them so ashamed of themselves they buried their face harder into the fleece as their hand's gentle motion guided their nerves back down, taking their time. Why did this mess always feel so satisfying to wallow in like this? They didn't want to get up. They wanted to lay in this specific spot thinking about Her until sleep finally claimed them and let the first thing they woke up to be Iris asking for an explanation, a request that would make them pass out before they could muster any words. This spot was so comfortable. Their body had almost settled down. It would have been so easy to give in.
They took a breath, swallowed hard, and pushed themselves upright to fumble through the darkness for their nightgown. Finding it was the last moment of privacy they afforded themselves. They clutched the soft piece of fabric to themselves and hugged it for just a few more seconds while their heart settled down. Wearing it here hadn't been just out of convenience. Nowadays, the first piece of fabric that Iris had ever given them felt too special to risk wearing outside their bedroom most of the time, but that quality also made it comforting. Sylvia wasn't normally a risk-taker, at least, no more than they had to be. This risk was worth it, but it still wracked their nerves every time they chose to take it.
It was a hike back home from here in the dead stillness of about 3am, down from the table by the door where the glove had been via the coat on the rack, across the living room, and around to the far end of the kitchen to the same tunnel-entrance they'd left by. She hustled, both for the sake of catching a little extra sleep that evening as well as the fact that the ground was terribly cold this time of year. She was hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms by the time she was passing under the chair that stood over the entryway (something Iris had suggested to provide them with some cover when coming and going that way).
She smelled the smoke from Louis leaning against the outermost chair leg before she saw him, and her stomach did a somersault. She nearly followed the instinct to stop, turn around, and walk off again for a few minutes until he went back inside, but she knew Louis's sense of hearing better than that. Sure enough, she proceeded a few steps until he was in view and saw him already peering in her direction, eyebrows raised mildly over deeply baggy eyes, silly little miniature strip of rolled paper in his fingers smoking faintly. Syl liked Louis. Pragmatic and mellow personalities tended to be appreciated in little groups like theirs, but when he first showed up, he had deferred to Sylvia's experience here more directly than some of the rest, and that kind of level headedness was something she'd always appreciated since.
"Oh, hey," she said with a little wave, hoping the sleepiness in her voice was more audible than her nerves. "Can't sleep either?"
He exhaled smoke, and his expression didn't change. Louis couldn't typically speak, nor did he tend to sleep well, so none of this was particularly unusual, but there was a hint of amusement in his tired look that made Sylvia feel unusually seen through. After holding his gaze longer than she meant to, she exhaled, stepped toward him, took the little roll of paper from his hand without asking (he neither flinched nor visibly reacted at all), took a puff, placed it back into his hand, and without another word to him, hurried back into the tunnels to hide in her bedroom for the next few hours before she dug her hole any deeper.