I'm krissbeth's boyfriend. Here's the ROLE PLAYING she's referring to, in character journal form:
She was a dame. A dame to make a bishop kick out a stained glass window. A dame to make some guys start thinkin' about honest living, and white picket fences, and small children.
A kickin' bod's been hidden underneath loose clothing: a tight ass and muscled thighs that'd squeeze you 'till you burst like an overripe grape…
No. Think about puppies and kittens and, and, and... small, furry, warm...
Alright. Get a hold of yourself, John. Your body's gonna get you real embarrassed, real quickly. Look away.
Oh, god. She just got wet. Pert breasts glistening in the water under thin cloth clinging... red hair, unbound, spiraling out just behind her like, like, like…
Beetles! Think about the beetles, John. Or the mummy’s hand. Or the skummy guys in the flophouse. Gotta get focused, get prepared. Try to get Red out of your mind and your eyeline.
Later...
Wait. I wonder if dwarf girls know about shrinkage?