You were about to suggest to Chelsea that the two of you should probably start studying for that Marketing quiz, when your thoughts were penetrated by a deep sound emanating from behind you. Turning your head back, you traced the sound of the bubbling gurgles to Chelsea’s lean stomach. The sounds were promptly silenced by your giantess friend placing a hand firmly onto her tummy, and then sheepishly blushing lightly.
“Well…I guess I know what we should do first today.” You joked, playfully elbowing Chelsea’s hell for emphasis. Rolling her eyes, Chelsea curled her toes and flicked your chest with her big toe gently, just enough to knock you over. While you recovered from her unexpected pushback to your teasing, the titanic brunette hoisted herself from the bed and swept her purse over her shoulder in one smooth movement.
“Breakfast IS the most important meal of the day.” Chelsea stated, picking you up and sliding you into a tight but secure pocket in her purse, one she had carried you in countless times before. It was just big enough for you to disappear completely into, as to avoid any potentially dangerous accidents, such as falling out. “And besides, I heard your tiny little tummy rumble earlier. You’re just as hungry as me.”
Chelsea winked, and you smirked back at her before allowing yourself to sink to the bottom of the purse pocket. It was true, your stomach had been begging for food for the past ten minutes or so. Knowing Chelsea would undoubtedly head off to your favorite breakfast restaurant on campus, you decided to simply relax your body and enjoy the ride, however bumpy it might be.
To her credit, Chelsea walked with as even a stride as she could manage, keeping the swinging of her purse to a gentle and rhythmic pendulum motion. She’d learned her lesson the hard way a few weeks back when she’d placed her new tiny dormmate into her purse, and then ran quite carelessly down the hallway, purse flying behind her. It took her nearly twenty minutes to find where tiny little Tom had splattered against the wall, having flown right out of the pocket at Mach speed.
Throwing on her sunglasses, Chelsea fished her keys out of her purse and strode down the walkway outside of the dorm, hopping into her car and resting her purse in the passenger’s seat. With a mischievous grin, Chelsea cranked the radio to an overplayed Pop music station, blared the volume, and began purposefully singing along in a goofy, off-key manner. She knew how much you hated it, and knew you couldn’t exactly do a thing about it at the moment.
Sitting inside of her purse, you recoiled at the sudden, unexpected blast of music, pressing your hands against your ears and staring daggers out of the pocket towards the direction of your obnoxiously harmonizing dormmate. You should’ve known she’d taunt you in this way, and you could only wince from the overbearing bass drops and ear-piercingly shrill singing. Already, plans were forming in your mind of how to get Chelsea back for this.
Before you knew it, the music was being shut off, and your purse transportation was lifted back up into the air, strap situated over Chelsea’s toned shoulder. Giving you a quick little smile down into your pocket, Chelsea kicked her car door shut, locked it, and strolled inside of the restaurant, which was a quaint little breakfast joint known as “Sally’s Southern Delights”.
You and Chelsea had visited this restaurant a few times before, and it was easily your favorite place to grab some morning food stuffs. The restaurant, as its named suggested, specialized in Southern, farm-styled breakfast options, including eggs, oranges, biscuits, pancakes, grits, and mouth-wateringly delicious bacon. The meal was often supplemented by warm milk or coffee for a drink, and a slice of apple pie for dessert.
What made “Sally’s Southern Delights” really stand out from the crowd was how committed the restaurant was to providing the appropriate atmosphere. All of the furniture inside of the diner was wood, including smooth wooden benches, stools, and tables. The lighting was fairly dim, illuminated through lanterns and candles hanging around the walls. Every door in the place was a wooden swing door (though the bathroom swing doors had locks), and a generous but not inconvenient amount of straw and hay littered the wood floors of the establishment.
Last but not least was the staff, who went above and beyond to serve all patrons. The waitresses wore cute but practical Southern belle dresses and knee-high cowgirl boots, and each of the chefs looked like they’d all starred as gracious hostesses on “Little House on the Prairie”. Every staff member was required to speak with a fluent and strangely mesmerizing Southern accent, and huge smiles were all around. “Sally’s Southern Delights” was truly a memorable place.
The only huge problem about the restaurant was, quite literally, a HUGE problem. The diner, perhaps because of how specialized it was in its design, had barely adapted to support tiny, shrunken patrons. None of the staff were tiny (they were, in fact, all women), and no changes had been made to seating arrangements to accommodate the miniature percentage of the human population. This wasn’t done in a deliberately malicious way, but it still kept you a bit on edge during each of your visits.
Approaching the receptionist, Chelsea flashed a warm smile and broke you from your thoughts by speaking. “I’d like a booth.” She proposed.
The girl behind the counter returned an equally radiant smile. “Sure thang, sugah! How ‘bout that booth over there?” She mentioned, gesturing to an empty booth against the side wall. Chelsea nodded graciously and walked over, the straw and hay crunching unceremoniously under her shoes. Pretty much every patron and staff member was used to the barn aesthetic by now, and carried not a bit for what fell under their feet while they walked around.
Sliding into one side of the booth, Chelsea let her purse fall onto the seat beside her, fished you gently out of the pocket, and then dropped her purse to the floor by her feet. Depositing you on the table in front of her, you barely had time to stretch your limbs before a waitress happily bounded up to your table, eager to serve.
A frilly pink dress adorned this waitress, poofy white shoulders and a large purple bow across her midsection included. The dress hugged her tightly, but not enough to disallow flowing movements every time she shifted. The dress stopped at her knees, right where her brown boots began. Long white gloves adorned each delicate hand. Lightly curled blonde hair framed her cute face, cutely freckled complexion set in a wide smile.
Of course, you only saw about half of her face, as most was blocked by the girl’s abundant chest size. Near the edge of the table as you were, the giantess towered over you, perky breasts sticking out from her like a shelf. Her dress was rather low-cut, her tanned boobs threatening to spill from her top at a moments notice. In fact, you could tell the girl was surprisingly curvy under her dress, then chided yourself for immediately jumping to pervy thoughts about a girl who hadn’t even spoken a word yet.
“Greetin’s ya’ll!” The girl cheered. “Mah name’s Sadie, and I’ll be yer waitress today!” Her voice was bubbly and infectious, even through the incredibly thick accent. You wondered if it might’ve actually been her true hometown accent.
Chelsea cleared her throat. “We’ll take two glasses of warm milk, and I’ll have the sausage, scrambled eggs, French toast, and orange platter.”
“Two glasses?” Sadie tilted her head in an adorably confused manner. “Why two?”
Chelsea flicked her gaze down to you. “One for me, and one for Tom.”
Sadie, to your utter amazement, actually pressed an arm against her breasts, squishing them flatter in a somewhat futile movement, and gazed down at the table, eyes locking onto you. Her eyes widened, and she blushed lightly. “Oh mah stars! I’m so sorry, tiny cutie! Why, I reckon I ain’t never woulda seen ya if yer girlfriend here hadn’t pointed ya out!”
Chelsea coughed. “Huh, what? Oh, uh, he’s not…”
Sadie grinned. “And, so what would you like, sweet pea?” She leaned down closer to hear you, titanic body casting a shadow over you. You fought bravely to tear your eyes away from the deep abyss of her cleavage.
“Um…the same as Chelsea, I guess. B-but, can I have bacon instead of sausage?”
“Sure thing, little cowboy! I’ll be back in a jiffy with ya’ll orders!” Sadie bowed politely and scurried off, disappearing through two huge swing doors into the kitchen. After waiting a moment, you turned to Chelsea with a wry smile on your face, having clearly heard her panic over the “girlfriend” misunderstanding.
Cleverly, Chelsea averted her gaze and stood up, quite visibly fidgeting awkwardly. “Uh…um…I need to go to the bathroom real quick Tom. Shouldn’t take more than…a few minutes.”
Watching her leave silently, you caught yourself staring at her massive, leggings clad butt swinging side-to-side. No doubt she was flustered about being confronted over her relationship with you, a reaction that peaked your interest, to say the least. But, you knew better than to keep teasing her about it. Especially when she could get you back by simply placing one finger down onto your bug-sized body.
Scanning the restaurant lazily, you noticed that quite a few more patrons were showing up for breakfast, and empty tables were filling up fast. Feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach, you began pacing around the table, silently praying for Chelsea to hurry back…and soon.
What happens next?
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
