"Hello?" Scott answered
"Hey babe. I think we should go out to eat somewhere. I'm feeling a bit hungry. You still at work?"
"Actually, My boss sent me home for the day. I accidentally spill some chemicals all over my clothes, so he gave me the rest of the day off."
"Oh my god! Are you all right?"
"I feel fine. It's just the clothes."
"Good. Rachel's birthday party is still on for tonight, and I will not go alone. If you start to feel ill, get over it. You're a tough guy. You can hold it out."
"Do I really have to go? She hates me."
"We are going. That's final." Scott mimicked Sarah's high-pitched demands. "Go over to my place instead of yours. You got some clothes over there. I just finished shopping. I'll meet up with you, and we can go to Denver's Diner down the street. Sound good?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"I love-" Right before Scott could finish, Sarah hung up the phone. He threw an annoyed fist into the air, and headed for his car. He was now changing destination to his high-maintenance girlfriend's flat. He wasn't as invested in this relationship as she was. He just saw a cute face on day at the bar, and one of his friends told him that she's never been laid. Since that day, he made it his life mission to try and have sex with her. Unfortunately, four months have passed, and only now was he starting to see why she wasn't being hooked up so often.
Sarah was a controlling brunette who hid her desire to play the puppet master under her 30DD breasts. She had a fairly round ass, not too big, but just enough of a handful to grab. She took a lot to please. She took advantage of Scott's free time by dragging her and her friends around places where she would benefit the most. It was a one-way deal, and Scott did a lot, but he didn't receive much for his actions.
The worst of Sarah was her friend Rachel, an African-American athlete. She was very busty in both breasts and ass, a body required for huge success in college volleyball. She didn't like Scott so much, possibly for the fact that she could smell through his deceiving bullshit and was just watching out for her friend. Scott wasn't too fond of her either, due to her frequent quick-to-anger attitude towards him. He felt more like a killer than a boyfriend whenever the three were around.
As Scott made his way to her flat, his body started to sweat profusely. The sun was beaming down his side of the window, but even he knew that it wasn't that hot. There were moments where he felt like he was going to crash into an accident. He held his head in his palm the rest of the way.
Scott eventually reached the parking lot of her flat home, and quickly hurried to her room. She had some medicine in her bathroom cabinet. He could definitely use some. He walked through the main lobby, turning in the first right. Panting, he reached her door. Room 107. He took out the spare card key and busted into her living room, almost collapsing to the floor.
His eyes were drooping, and his movements were suddenly feeling short and rapid spasms. What the hell was going on, he thought? Were these the work of the chemicals? He ran into her room and switched on the bathroom light. He looked into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. He flicked the lid, poured two tabs in his hand, and swallowed them whole. After three seconds, his whole world went dark.
Scott woke up a couple minutes later, lifting his face of the cold tile. Tile? Scott jumped back to his feet, looking at the massive teal tile under his legs. He gazed around the bathroom to be shocked that he couldn't see the top of the counter anymore. He was the size of a dust bunny a couple inches from him. His heart raced with worry. He wondered what exactly the chemicals did to him. He stood in place, too mind-fucked with so much going on around him.
"SCOTT?" Scott heard the main door close with a bang, and heard the thunderous voice of his girlfriend calling his name. "SCOTT!"
Scott was scared, but he needed to get help. Sarah was the only hope he had of figuring out what was wrong with him. He sprinted out the bathroom door, back in her room. The messy terrain of clothes grew even more, and it was hard to even notice a floor to stand on. He raced towards the door, only to be greeted by a quick, annoyed swing.
There was giant Sarah. She was wearing a purple sundress with dark blue petals scattered around. She was also wearing silver flip-flops, showing off her tiny, now incredibly huge, feet with purple nail polish. She was walking around with a angry puff in her cheeks.
"DAMN IT. I TOLD HIM TO COME OVER HERE." She pulled out her phone to try calling him. Perfect. Scott waiting for the ringing in his pants, but nothing came. He then came to the stupid conclusion that his phone was still in his car.
"NOT PICKING UP? ASSHOLE!" Sarah threw her phone on the ground, along with the rest of her purchases from shopping. She walked towards her bed, almost crushing Scott under the sole of her flip flop. She face-palmed and screamed out of fury. The was now Scott's chance to get the help needed. He could climb from her feet, that way, if she moved, he would still be holding on. Climbing the sheets would be safer, but if she moved, it would have all been in vain. Which route did Scott choose?
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