The worst thing about co-ed cooking school? Definitely having to avoid the flurry of knives. It was hard to pay much attention in class when you shared a cooking space with giantesses. The girls paid tinies like you no attention as they worked with their knives and boiling-hot pots and pans. Not to mention the danger of being splashed by a giantess who was mixing or cutting something too vigorously. A trek from your food station to the other side of the counter to get more very-finely-minced onions could be extremely dangerous. Although the middle of the big, shared counters were reserved and well-marked as being for tinies only, accidents happened. Sometimes it was as harmless as being doused in ranch dressing, but sometimes a tiny would disappear into a bowl of ingredients, never to be seen again. You shuddered at the thought. Still, co-ed cooking school was the cheaper option, and your school was technically one of the safest for tinies. But every semester, tinies would go missing.

But you couldn’t deny the allure of the massive women that surrounded you all day. When they mixed something hard, you could watch their breasts jiggle, and they couldn’t even see you staring. When they leaned over to reach for something on the other side of the demarcated tiny zone, you loved staring down their shirts. When the girls leaned their backs on the counters, you loved the way they lifted their butts onto the counter. When one of the giantess teachers sampled the miniscule portion of food you’d made, you wondered what it would be like to be that teensy portion of casserole, sucked off of her finger, and being smothered by her queen-sized tongue.

It was true: you had a giantess fetish. You never really felt satisfied in your flings with other tiny women, though the obvious danger with the giants made you hesitate. You’d had friends who got themselves killed in unfortunate accidents with the bigger sex. One careless tumble, one spout of anger, and any tiny would be a goner. But you still longed to get close to a giantess and explore her body, and its landscape of folds, creases, mounds, and tunnels.

You were relaxing on the couch in your tiny apartment. It had been a ho-hum night at your part-time job at a tinies-only kitchen, and you yearned for some excitement. You pulled up the Tinder app on your phone. You hovered over the toggle button for “Giant Women” on your Tinder app for the fifth time that night, and took another swig of whiskey. Dammit, I only live once! And you toggled it. This time, you promised yourself you’d leave it on. You scrolled through the profiles of dauntingly sexy women, right-swiping each of them, even throwing a few super-likes here and there. You knew it was probably hopeless, but you had to try. 

Only 10 minutes later, you heard a “ping!” from your phone.

“It’s a match! You and Kelly like each other!”

No way. You pulled up her profile. She looked hot. Am I Capricorn? You had no idea. You opened the chat. You screwed up your courage and summoned your inner Shakespeare. This was it. Your first, and maybe last, chance to impress a giantess who was so hot you felt like you were back in the kitchen.

“Hey”

A few moments later, a “hey” back. Holy shit. She actually responded to me. She acknowledged me. How many giantesses had ever acknowledged you outside of teachers, instructors, managers, police officers… Any giantess outside of a professional obligation on her part? “U good?” The words flowed from your fingers like a muse had possessed you. “Wyd?” “nmu?” “chillin lol” Clearly, you were starstruck lovers, destined to be together, preordained since the beginning of time. “lol same”. It was like magic.

You chatted a bit and talked about their backgrounds. You told her all about how you worked as a part-time junior chef for a tinies-only restaurant in the outskirts of town, while taking cooking classes at a local co-ed college. She seemed impressed. You weren’t quite sure what she did for a living - she mentioned something about “being her own boss”, selling things, and apprenticing other women, but you weren’t clear on exactly what she did. You think it had something to do with selling clothes?

Unbelievably, you two hit it off and set up a date for the very next day. Your heart almost pounded right out of your chest as you suggested that you meet up: