The Shape of Things to Come It had never been overt, but school had been the worst. Size was somethi

The Shape of Things to Come

It had never been overt, but school had been the worst. Size was something that everybody noticed but no one really talked about. Being short, or skinny, didn’t mean all that much at the forefront of things, it was just another fact, but it had coloured perceptions, made people prone to condescension, even if she’d been one of the oldest in her year.

But she couldn’t help but see her frailty as an asset. She didn’t have anything to cushion his blows, but that also meant there wasn’t anything between him and her, no buffer, no comfortable cushion of flesh that would keep the sensation that little bit more dulled, that little bit further away. 

The sex was the best, it felt like she was being split in half. A thick rod of an exclamation point, shuddering through her over and over again, as if making a point that she just wouldn’t listen to. It made her feel petulant, and that made her grin. She was stretched out, thin and tight, a balled bunch of muscle that may as well have been lightning in a bottle, just waiting to burst out and scorch the earth. 

He saw her as a firecracker, that much she knew. She was rocket fuel, compacted and ready to explode, arch towards an apoapsis and burn for the horizon. He may have been in control, but she was the driving force. 

Which is what it all boiled down to. Frailty was the asset, but only because it was somehow perverted by his influence, inverted and smirking, vulnerability turned into power, raw and unharnessed.