Chris, 3:35 PM

“I was thinking because we’ve had sooo much time to just sit around lately,” The shower continues to run as Heather paces back and forth in front of you, so massive it's a struggle to crane your head up to the girl's face. You settle on her blue jean-clad legs. There’s a light gust of turbulence each time she moves past, but it's minimal. Nothing like the wild movements you had been dealing with regarding Celia. That girl was as careless as they come, someone with zero fucks to spare.

             “Obviously, we need to get home.” She stops pacing and looks down at you from high above. Each leg is a colossal pillar that towers to both sides. It's terrifying to imagine what those legs could do to you. One little squeeze and…

             “Maybe we could take a little detour?” Heather breaks your chain of thought. “I know a nice cafe we can hang out at….” Is she asking you on a date? It's an odd offer. Certainly not one you ever expected. But not an unpleasant one by any stretch of the imagination. Though, even with some added durability to bulk you up, there’s no telling what could happen. Hell, the two of you could barely communicate, your voice far too small and pathetic to reach Heather's ears. A fact she’s only just realizing herself.

             “Right, it's pretty hard to hear you.” She goes silent, thinking for several long moments. “What if we just do like, yes or no questions? Yes, you wave at me with both arms! No, you stay still. That sounds good! Yeah, let's do that!” She clasps her hands together and kneels down before you, her drop dizzying in its speed. Like a comet hurling itself to earth, she stops right in front of you, her gigantic unblinking eye staring at your naked body. There’s a level of violation as she scopes you out with her newly acquired size, looking head to toe.

              “Oh my god,” Heather exclaims, finally getting a good look at your naked body for the first time since she’d reclaimed her height, “It’s just, like, a toothpick.” She’s astonished. Her eyes tell you exactly which area she’s focused on. Not like it can be helped! You sigh.

 Heather seems to pick up on your distress, and she quickly backpedals, “Oh, well, of course it's small! Because you are!” There’s a long delay where she has nothing to say, “...I’m sure it's a good size when you're, um, normal?” You sweep a foot along the floor idly, slightly annoyed. She wasn’t complaining earlier, that’s for sure. An awkward silence fills the air as both of you pause. “Well, where do we put you? My Pocket?” She blinks.

 You make sure to stay totally still. The last time you rode in a confined space like a purse, Heathers specifically, you’d nearly gotten killed by a tube of lipstick. That wasn’t something you were eager to revisit anytime soon. If she kept you anywhere like that, you’d have to be strapped in, not able to bounce around. She moves on, taking your silence as a conclusive no. “Uh, okay. How about my pants?” Another hard pass. Front or back, you’d gotten enough of both recently to be set for a lifetime.

 That last one leaves her stumped like it was her ace in the hole. Any other day, you’d have taken her up on it. But after this last week or so? Not a chance in hell. This fantasy has its upsides, but it's becoming more of a nightmare each day. At this point, getting back to normal wouldn’t be anything other than a massive relief.

              “Okay, I think I got it! Heather brazenly lifts up the shirt and pulls down the bra she’d liberated from Celia. It spills over, clearly not fitting her in any sense of the word. Your new friend speaks up with a shit-eating grin, “How about taking a ride in here? Look, I know the cup size is pretty tight, but there should be some space at the very end for you. Kinda like, a condom, you know?”

 It seems like an absolutely horrible idea, and you freeze just looking at those massive heaps of flesh. Is that really how big they always were? Fuck. You take a deep breath and wave frantically. This option was terrible, but so were all the others. Heather was never the brightest, though. And it wasn’t like you could pitch any ideas. You’re almost sure they’ll all be outrageously dangerous with her at the helm. At least this way, you’d be secured at the end of her tit, not able to bounce around. Though, the thought of suffocating in there fills you with dread. A genuine concern that you’d simply have to put towards the back of your mind.

              Her eyes lower in satisfaction, “Perfect.” She stands up, adjusting herself for the switch. “I hope you know just how lucky you are. Not everyone gets an all express pass to my tits!” She teasingly brags, lowering a hand for you to step on. You cautiously amble up and are subsequently rocketed upwards. The speeds are so fast that you’d have puked if you weren’t already well acclimated to the jolting motions of being picked up. Clearly, her care needs some work.

              There isn’t any way to voice a complaint, though, as she grossly licks a finger and smears you with her saliva before hastily pressing you into her tit. It's downright vile, able to quickly feel the individual strands adhere to you before being plastered to the pink of her soft nipple. You imagine it seems cuter her size, but at your miserable height? No chance. The smaller you go, the more intense everything is. A hard-learned lesson over the last few days.

              You feel her entire body shudder at the sensation of the finger making contact, a firm seal onto the topmost part of her areola, and a grin still wrapped tightly around her lips.

Everything taken into consideration, this isn’t all that bad. In fact, you could even get behind this in a small way. Finally, a sexy situation that you could actually feasibly enjoy! She blows a quick kiss downward before sealing you away behind miles of fabric, casting you into the humid darkness. The wave of heat is immediate, the insulation inside the cheap, poorly fitting bra doing you no favors. Otherwise, you find yourself surprisingly cozy. The bra keeps you pressed lightly against her nipple, and there’s little room to fall. The ever-present danger that has been an unfortunate companion to your adventure feels lessened in this space. It's almost non-existent, leaving more room for the erotic.

             You feel Heather moving, but it's challenging to get a good mental picture of what's happening outside. It's too dark to see, so instead, you focus on her heartbeat and the feeling of warmth her nipple provides. So, instead, you work a hand loose, wiggling it back and forth until it finally breaks free of the thick saliva that Heather seems inclined to use as glue. Naturally, you use the newfound freedom of your right hand to grasp at your member, blood already pumping vigorously through it. Gross as it may be, Heather's spit makes for a surprisingly solid lubricant, allowing your hand to glide up and down effortlessly.

Her chest sways lightly with her stride, a subtle pulling of gravity almost imperceptible to the naked eye. But you're living it, in the very thick of the action. Holding you in place as you take out all this pent-up sexual energy. In a way, it's soothing.

Repeated motions, up and down, up and down. Over and over again until your body lurches, spraying a pitiful amount of seed across the soft inner material. The explosive finish leaves a hard-to-spot stain on the inside of a bra. It’s a garment she'd likely toss straight in the trash, knowing Heather. You feel guilty not asking permission, but she's probably okay with it, right? Doesn't matter; not like you have any way of telling her. And her finding out on her own is practically an impossibility.

Annoyingly, you need to adjust your straps every few seconds; the borrowed bra is not doing you any favors in the stability department. It's a nice day out, though, and you try not to let a minor inconvenience ruin it.

Chris, on the other hand, is almost entirely unfelt. His tiny body is far too small to provide the stimulation needed for your body to acknowledge him beyond the occasional tingle. It's cute knowing he's sitting protected beneath the woven surface, snuggled up against such an erotic part of your body, but truthfully, he's making it quite itchy. However, you refrain from taking action, assuming Chris wouldn't be a fan of the interruption.

Trying to ignore the passing urge, you continue down the familiar college town streets. Vaguely familiar faces pass you by, most on the younger side of the typical college-age bracket. Some you've seen around, mostly in passing. And none of them are any wiser to what you have tucked away inside the loaned-out bra. Something is exciting about the hidden aspect, something both dangerous and empowering. You're really starting to see why Lexy is into this.

 It being Chris only makes things sweeter. You aren't totally sold on the nerdy type of deal he has going on, but he's cute enough. Plus, it's getting increasingly difficult to deny the feelings bubbling up recently. Maybe you'd ask him on an actual date after all this is said and done. A movie, possibly, or just lunch.

 You rapidly turn the corner, streets thankfully easy to traverse. The town has very few back roads, so what you see is what you get. It's something you've always appreciated about attending this school. Simple to get around, even without a vehicle. It makes clubbing a total breeze.

 Turning the next corner after a brisk walk past the university bookstore, you find yourself in front of the holy grail of coffee hangouts. Right across the street sits the usual spot, Aunt Joans. A local place that made iced vanilla macchiatos sweeter than any place around! You'd spent countless afternoons here. Alone and with friends. It was practically cemented into your morning routine, probably racking up a couple hundred at this place easily every month. Seeing a multitude of bodies crossing, you do a mental fist pump, appreciating the excellent stroke of luck.

 Your eyes focus on the relatively plain exterior of the building as you cross, several days without coffee making you a little too fixated on getting a cold brew. Shortly after reaching the other side, you run right into a muscle wall.

 "Watch whe-" You start to chide, but quickly yank yourself back when you see who it is. "Oh! Hey, Peter!" You say, putting on your most convincing fake face.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck! You mentally release a barrage of curses. Of all the people to bump into, why Peter?

 "Hey, little lady!" The Basketball player says smoothly. His voice is irresistible, but you know first hand this guy has very little to offer. Probably the quickest you'd ever broken up with someone. But being in the same circle, you had to stay on good terms. Anything otherwise would be social suicide.

 There's a sudden earthquake, and you're flung directly into the walls of enclosed fabric, breaking free of your spit prison in one swift move. It's startling but ultimately tolerable. As Heather initially pointed out, there really isn't much opportunity for you to get lost in here; the divot towards the nipple is relatively roomy, all things considered.

 "Holy hell," you groan, raising yourself against the natural slope created by the bra. You're rattled but otherwise, fine. That is until you hear a man's deep voice speak up. It's the first guy you'd even heard since Alexis invited you out for that run. There's something much more terrifying about it: the deep and confident cadence it carries.

 "God, can I just say you look gorgeous today!" Peter pipes up cheerfully.

 Heather lets out a giggle so forced even you can pick it up, responding with a curt, Thanks! I like the new haircut!"

 "Oh, this old thing? Changed it up a few months ago. Crazy how time flies, huh?" He says with a chuckle

 Although it's evident to everyone but this guy that Heather isn't into the conversation, it still manages to rattle you. If you couldn't reclaim your size, you'd have to compete with people like that. Not only in romantic settings but in all walks of life. Strong, confident, probably tall even for their relative size. It's a depressing line of thought. Otherwise, you wouldn't stand any chance, totally helpless in the adult world. And that's assuming they didn't lock you up somewhere. After all, you aren't sure how well known this magic business is. The implications of magic being real are far-reaching, yet.

That guy is more boring than a wet sack of paper towels. Both in bed and otherwise. You recall him bragging about his one toe being shorter than the rest; so lame. Regardless, you've made it. All that's left is to push open the door and order a drink made with heaven's very own mixture of caffeine! You wave an overly enthusiastic goodbye to Peter and turn towards the coffee shop, your false veneer dropping immediately.

Ding

The bell rings as the door is pushed open, and a barista on the thicker side of proportions greets you with a smile. "Welcome back, Heath, haven't seen you in a few days! I was getting lonely over here!"

Caroline. Lovely girl who lingered on the chubby side of the scale. Pale white, but she always did her makeup, the tones typically complimenting her face well. You've always appreciated a girl who has time for beautifying, and even though you'd never associated with her outside of grabbing a coffee, the two of you are on first-name terms, which is no surprise. Heck, you practically live here most weeks.

"Hey, Carol!" You give a short little wave. "Yeah, busy busy, you know?" The two of you share a quick giggle. "How are things?" You ask out of vague interest for some gossip.

"Well, you know that cute guy I showed you a picture of? We finally went out." The young adult sighs, visibly deflating.

"Oh my God, for real? I'll take the usual, but tell me all about it! How'd it go?" You ask, curiosity sufficiently peaked.

Caroline turns around and mixes the various flavorings into the coffee as she speaks, "Well, not so great. The guy was obsessed with my ass." She gestures toward her generous behind, giving it a pat for a stronger emphasis. "Definitely not relationship material, and when we got to bed, you know he b-lined right for it!" She groans in aggravation. Luckily, both you and Caroline could speak freely with it close to closing time.

You snort, the description reminding you of someone very close by. "How lame. I'm okay with a little myself, but it sounds pretty one-note." You say offhandedly.

"Right?" She agrees, placing the cold coffee on the table, the sweat running down the side teasing you with its chilling presence. "Anyway, totals six-forty-two."

You reach into your pockets and freeze. No money. Your face turns beet red as you sheepishly try to explain, "I guess I forgot my purse at home. I'm so sorry, Carol."

"Pshh, don't worry about it, girl.” She pushes the drink towards you before grabbing a plastic-wrapped cookie from behind the counter, “Here, just take it. Have a cookie too. Most of it goes right into the trash on days like this. If I don't get to it first, that is. And I do not need more calories!" She turns around, shaking her butt for emphasis before going back to whatever she was doing before you walked in.

Now, the heat is really starting to get to you. The intensity has you sweating like a pig while Heather makes idle chit-chat. She has you panting like a dog in here. Though, you find it hard to blame her. She wasn’t doing this intentionally, and in fact, she probably didn’t have the faintest clue about how stuffy it could get.

Finally, the roof is slyly cracked apart after a while longer, dim cafe light flooding in. A finger scoops you up, placing you roughly on the slick table Heather seems to have chosen for this thrown-together date. Is that what this is? You still aren't entirely sure.

Heather stares down at you with a warm smile, much kinder of an expression than you’ve seen to date from her. However, the warm tone is contrasted heavily by her imposing chest. You can barely even see most of her smile, hidden behind the several tons of warm tit-flesh. It blots out even the artificial light of the coffee joint. At any moment, she could so quickly just drop them to the surface, and you’d be toast. Nothing you can do would ever be enough to stop them if Heather slumped forward even slightly; your corpse would be shared between her shirt and the table. Fortunately, she quickly realizes the mistake and lets you sit in the groove of the poppable plastic bubbles adjacent to the straw before taking a sip.

Sluuuuurp

              You’re astonished as a massive amount of liquid flows through the straw and into Heather, her mouth greedily taking in the drink. It rushes through the tube like a high-pressure pipeline.

              Ahhhhhhh

              She lets out a fulfilled sigh and leans back, finally giving you some space. Pulling out the warm cookie, Heather takes a solid bite. Her strong teeth cut through the cookie's rapidly cooling exterior, your eyes widening. It's an impressive display of what her body is capable of, her mere mouth able to drain entire oceans at the drop of a hat.

              Full dump trucks worth of sugar vanish into that stormy cavern while hailstone-sized pieces of cookie dust rain messily onto the table below. The chocolate chip is devoured greedily, taking no time for Heather to scarf the whole thing down. It's mind-boggling how much food could disappear into her mouth.

She catches your bug-eyed stare, leaning slightly closer to inquire. “‘hat?” She blurts out, the rest of the cookie in the process of being chewed to a pulp as she speaks.