Even after scrolling through every message on the dating app, your thoughts kept coming back to Becka. There was something irresistible about the beautiful redhead’s innocent expression, her full lips blowing a playful kiss to the camera. Her message seemed quite nice, and you felt like you could really hit it off with her. With butterflies in your stomach, you sent her a quick message:
“Hi Becka! Would you like to meet sometime?”
After your message, you sat and waited patiently for her reply, praying that you weren’t getting your hopes up for inevitable disappointment. Whittling away the minutes, you paced nervously around your room. Just when you realized how silly it was to expect Becka to reply mere minutes after your message, you actually did get a reply:
“Hey there, cutie! I’d love to hang out and meet you. Stop by anytime, as I’m almost always in my dorm room. I’m on the third floor of the West dorm, room 347. See ya soon, Tom!”
Your heart began to beat a mile a minute, and a huge, goofy grin spread across your face. You hastily replied back to her:
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Becka!”
Setting your miniature phone down, you failed to notice the “ERROR SENDING MESSAGE” warning appear on the screen. You rushed around your tiny room and threw on the best outfit you could manage, which included a sharp black dress shirt and black slacks. Adjusting yourself in the mirror for a brief second, you raced out of your small dorm box, leaving your phone behind. Tiny phones were incredibly pricey, so you often left it behind to avoid it breaking in any unfortunate accidents.
Due to your miniscule size, it did take you nearly fifteen minutes to reach the third floor of the West dorm (which thankfully was the dorm you already lived in). You had boarded the elevator along with two chatty girls who had nearly pulverized you beneath their heels and used the elevator as a quick shortcut to the third floor, which did save some time.
Approaching room 347, you took several deep breaths before slipping under the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet. Obviously, at your height, you couldn’t knock on the door. And, since you had left your phone behind, you couldn’t alert Becka to your arrival, and could merely hope she would be prepared to greet you as soon as you entered. You were, of course, still oblivious to the fact that Becka had no idea you were coming.
Once inside, you were immediately taken aback by the sight of who you could only assume was Becka, towering above you and dressed in only a pair of frilly black panties and matching bra. Her generously curvy assets seemed to strain against the fabric of her lingerie, even more so as the gigantic redhead bent over to retrieve something from a drawer near her door. Her boobs jiggled as she moved, jello-like cleavage demanding your full attention.
Wanting to avoid an awkward first encounter, you yelled up to your potential future girlfriend. “Hey Becka! I’m here, like I said! Down here!” You cried, a big smile on your face. That smile faded as Becka didn’t glance even remotely in your direction, pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer, and walked back over to her bed, eye-catching ass bouncing to and fro.
You were about to call out to her again when your eyes noticed something small sticking out of both of her ears, and your heart sank. Becka was wearing earphones, and upon closer inspection, you noticed her continuously rocking her body back and forth as she moved, clearly super engrossed in her music. There would be no way that the redhaired giantess would hear you.
Groaning, you walked further into the room, knowing you would need to approach her to get her attention. While you walked into her dorm room, you noted a vast assortment of fashion designing materials scattered across the floor and on her bed, ranging from scraps of fabric, to string and needles, to a sewing machine, ribbons, glitter, glue, and more. You also noticed what looked like a half-finished and rather revealing dress. You recalled her listing sewing as one of her hobbies, and fashion designer as her dream job.
You were also reminded of her passion for cooking by looking at her countertop, which was filled to the brim with cooking supplies. While busying herself designing clothes, it appeared you had caught Becka in the middle of fixing herself lunch. Something was heating up in the microwave, and a huge bowl and mixer sat beside a wide, rectangular pan.
Just then, Becka spoke. “Huh? When’s the party? Tonight, silly!” The giantess giggled, her voice as melodic and mesmerizing as you had hoped. Apparently, Becka was listening to music in one earphone and talking to a friend with the other.
Crossing over you, you dove out of the way of Becka’s tanned sole, barely avoiding being squished. You had hoped your potential future girlfriend would’ve been more careful since you had told her you were coming up (still unaware of your message’s failure to send). Recognizing how unsafe the floor would be, you began climbing up the side of the kitchen counter, where a draped towel touched the floor and allowed you to easily scale it.
Meanwhile, Becka organized a few strips of black and tan cloth on her bed and pulled out a few needles. She continued to talk to her friend. “So, what am I doing? Leah, I’m getting ready for the party. I’m making my dress for tonight and cooking my food. Er…baking, I suppose.” Becka laughed. “Don’t say that, Leah. You know how much I love working on this stuff.”
The redhead rubbed her chin pensively. “Yeah, I’m getting sewing stuff ready to finish up that sexy dress I told you I was working on. I’ve got most of it done, but I need a bit more fabric for the ass and chest area. I’ve almost run out of that stretchy fabric stuff you bought for me. Hope I can find more.”
Becka walked back over the counter, and you waved your one free arm to get her attention, but to no avail. “As for my cooking, I’m heating up a plate of lasagna for lunch, and mixing some cake batter to bake a delicious cake for the party tonight. Shouldn’t take me too long, and I still have, like, seven hours of time before the party.”
The beautiful girl sighed happily and reclined against the counter. Sensing your opportunity, you scrambled up the remaining bit of the towel and sprinted across the counter to where Becka’s hand was lazily resting. It was only right as you approached that disaster struck.
The microwave beeper loudly, and Becka turned around, her hand sweeping across the counter. The perfectly manicured fingernail of her index finger on her left hand slapped into your tiny body, sharp fingernail puncturing your shirt. With a startled scream, your body went flying along with her hand, miniscule form dangling helplessly from her fingernail.
Oblivious, Becka opened the microwave and pulled out her plate of lasagna. Breathing in the steamy smell and moaning blissfully, your potential future girlfriend set the plate and a fork down on her bed by her sewing supplies. “Alright, Leah! Lunch is ready, and I’ve got work to do. Let’s chat later, kay?”
Shooting her left hand up to her ear to hang up on Leah, Becka’s hand launched at rocket speed, and your shirt slid right off the fingernail that had cut it. This, of course, meant that your body was now flying fast and far from Becka, your only potential savior, and you could only pinwheel erratically and scream to Becka’s deaf, music-pounding ears. You flew head-over-heels towards god-knows-where, unable to control the trajectory of your one-inch body.
What a great first encounter this was shaping up to be.
Where do you land?
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