You fuss with the hem of your purple sweater dress, one of the only colorful clothing items you own, and sip your coffee. You’re pretty excited to meet Kelly—there just aren’t many tiny lesbians in town! She must be new.

She’s super late, though. Which you kind of figured would happen; she seemed a little ditzy and excitable when you were planning your coffee date. It was actually kind of charming. But you’ve been scanning all the tables on the raised counter that serves as the tiny-only seating area, and it’s been twenty-five minutes already. Would a courtesy text have killed her?

You grab your phone and send a quick message.

Surprisingly, you get a flurry of responses within the minute.

What? You’re at the Starbucks on 5th Avenue, and there are exactly four tinies in this seating area, and unless Kelly is catfishing you hard, none of them are her.

You hear a very loud voice from the giants’ seating. “Nicole? Hello?”

And you see a confused blonde woman in a pink dress stand up, spin around, notice the tiny seating, and break into a grin, and hoooooly fuuuuuuuck it’s Kelly. And she’s coming right towards you.

That is...a lot of cleavage. That is so much. You could drown in it. It’s spilling out of her dress, and she’s so tan, and so much skin is visible everywhere, she towers into the sky and blocks out the light and she smells like melon. Her hair is draped like a cloud over her shoulders and her thighs are so creamy and gorgeous and also huge.

“Oh my gosh, Nicole! Hey! It’s Kelly. Um. Obviously.” She leans in toward you, giving you a better view of her light blue eyes, her full, pink lips, and the colossal, soft curves of her breasts. Kelly is stunning.

She shoots you an embarrassed smile and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t know there was special tiny seating, sorry! I totally should have texted earlier, but I didn’t want to hurry you in case you were running late. Anyway, hi! Can I get you anything? It’s totally warm out enough for a frap, and the java chip--”

You only process a few words of what Kelly’s saying. The rest of your brain is frozen up, half in paralyzing terror, half in a confusing, paralyzing arousal.

“—could just chat for a while? What do you think?” Kelly looks at you expectantly.

Okay. You don’t know what’s going on, but you should probably answer her. And not with “you were supposed to be tiny” or “please drop me in your panties”. Say something a normal person would say.

“Yeah, that sounds great!”

Kelly beams. “Awesome, I’ll be right back! We could sit outside, maybe?” She turns and walks up to the counter, giving you a moment to collect yourself and release your white-knuckled grip on the table.