The speaker above the call box gave a whimpering buzz that crackled and hissed, then quickly faded. You opened the door, which creaked and whined. Inside, the hallway looked just as poorly maintained. There was an antique-looking elevator with crooked doors and crumbling paint, which you dared not attempt to ride. Thankfully, Kelly only lived one floor up. It would still be quite a climb, but there was no way you were getting in that elevator.

 

It was quite the climb, especially with the load on your back, but finally you reached Kelly’s floor. There was nothing in the way of tiny accessible walkways, so you tried to stick to the edges of the floor. Eventually you arrived at Kelly’s door, or rather, her side door for tinies. You always felt like you were going through a mouse hole when you used one of these. You buzzed the doorbell.

 

A muffled voice responded. (Thank god, the doorbell worked.) “Coming!” And then you felt the vibrations of her footsteps, which got louder and louder. You heard a click, and the door unlocked. You stepped inside, and were greeted face-to-face with the sole of a pink sandal, and a big toe taller than you.

 

You looked up at the foot. The bottom of her toenail was above you, shading you like an awning. Further up, you could just barely see the top of her rhinestone-studded sandal straps. You gazed up her long, smooth, leg, and you realized you could see straight up her skirt. She was wearing small red panties. Her short pink skirt cast a shadow over you. All you could see over the skirt was the shelf of her breasts in a white crop top. You couldn’t see her face. Was it even Kelly? You had no idea. You were dumbstruck. You hadn’t even said “hello” to her, but you’ve already seen her panties.

 

“Phil? Where are you? Did I buzz you in?” Her voice, in person, was sweet and lilted.

 

“Kelly! I’m down here!”

 

“Huh? Oh!” She backed away and peered down at the floor. Finally, you saw Kelly’s smiling face, looking down at you over her breasts. “There you are! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even know where my tiny door was! Stay right there, let me pick you up.” She took another step back and knelt down, extending her hand towards you. 

 

Now you could clearly see the rest of her body. Atop the pink, studded sandals was a pink skirt and a white crop top with a low neckline. Her knees pressed her huge breasts up and gave her some very eye-catching cleavage. Her face was stunning. She was wearing lipstick, eyeshadow, even some glitter, and her bright, blue eyes were staring intently, and happily, at you. 

 

“Don’t be shy!” she giggled, brushing back her shining blonde hair with her other hand. “I want to get a closer look at you!”

 

You gulped and accepted the ride. You climbed up on her finger - your first touch - and her smooth, warm skin smelled like melon. You walked onto her palm and sat down on the slightly sweaty skin, leaving your backpack at your side. Your shoulders ached, but this wasn’t the time to worry about that. “Okay, ready!”

 

“Alright, hold on tight!”

 

She brought you to her face and held her palm up to her eye. This was always a somewhat unsettling experience, being looked over by an eyeball larger than you. It could only have been more humiliating if she decided to get out a magnifying glass. But this was different. You saw her huge, gorgeous blue iris and her widening, onyx-like pupil, her gorgeous, straw-colored eyelashes, and you felt like you were already falling in love.

 

“Aww, you’re even cuter in person than in your pictures!”

“I - I could say the same thing to you,” you stammered. “Nice to meet you in person!”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine little guy!” She giggled. (God, did every giantess have to call you that?) She moved her hand to hold you at a more comfortable distance to her face. As she spoke, you were mesmerized by the movement of her glittery, balmed lips and the flashes of her bright teeth.

“So… Phil, right? I’m so glad you got here safely. Was the trip okay?”

“Yeah, no problem. You have a nice apartment.”

 

That was a white lie. Everywhere you looked you saw clothes and empty food containers strewn about randomly. On the other hand, you were overwhelmed by the intimacy of being able to see this stunning woman’s home in person, so you didn’t mind. Maybe it was the perfume.

 

“Thanks! I decorated it myself. It’s a bit messy though, sorry!” A bit messy was a bit of an understatement. You briefly wondered if you’d need to watch out for cockroaches.

 

“So,” she continued, “You said you could cook for me, right? I’m so excited to see what you can do with those little hands of yours!” That was quick. Was a free meal all she wanted out of this date? But if that was the price, you were happy to pay.

 

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ll need your help though. I don’t have everything with me.”

“No problem! I have stuff in the fridge. Let’s go to the kitchen, ok?”

 

She held you steady in her palm as she walked into the kitchen. For her, it must have been a bit small, but to you, it was more room than you could ever need. She placed you on the cold surface of the counter opposite the fridge, and turned around to bend over and open it up. You got a face-full of skirt-covered ass as she did so. 

 

“Hmmm, so what do you need from here?”

“I, uh, can’t see.”

“Oh! Sorry.” She stepped away from the open fridge. “Anything you want?”

 

There wasn’t much in the fridge besides open beer cans, half a gallon of milk, take-out boxes, and some ketchup. You were disappointed, and a little worried for this girl. Did she only ever eat take-out? 

 

“Err… I was hoping you’d have some onions, maybe?”
“Oh, sure, I have one of those!” she bent over again and reached all the way behind some take out boxes, grabbing a single onion. Her ass bumped the counter you were sitting on. If you had been just a little closer to the edge, you would have been knocked over.

“Here you go!” She turned around and dropped the onion near you. It rolled precariously close to you, threatening to crush you.

 

“Hey, careful!”

“Aww, it’s just an onion, it’s not going to hurt you!” Did she not see that it was multiple times your size?

“It’s a little dangerous for us to use whole onions. At school, we get them pre-chopped. It could roll on top of us, or a giant might not see us on it, you know?”

“Ohh, that makes sense. Should I chop it for you?”

She leaned up against the counter and reached up high, into the cupboard above. This time, thanks to her crop top, her bare stomach pressed into the counter. Above you, her huge breasts cast a shadow over you. She was standing on her toes. You prayed she was able to keep her balance.

 

“Here we go!” She retrieved a knife and placed it on the counter next to you with a clang. You jumped back.You didn’t want to be anywhere near that knife.

 

“Thanks, but I think I’ll chop it myself!”

“Oh… Okay!” She looked disappointed. “I’ll just watch you then?”

“That’s probably for the best.”

 

You sighed and unzipped your backpack. You took out your equipment, the ingredients you had, the hot plate, your pot, and so on.“Do you have anywhere I could plug this in?” You asked, holding up the hot plate.

“Uh… What’s that?”

“It’s a tiny hot plate.”

“I uh… I don’t know?”

“Do you have an outlet somewhere? It would have a tiny socket.”

Along the wall, there was indeed a giant-sized wall socket, along with a tiny one below it. 

“That’s the one.”

“Oh! That’s what that’s for? Gosh, I’m sorry little guy. To be honest, I don’t have much experience with tinies. Aside from a tiny teacher or two that I’ve had, and a personal trainer this one time, you’re the first one I’ve ever really talked to.”

“Don’t worry about it. This must all be a pretty new experience for you then.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s pretty weird. I mean, not weird in a bad way, just, unusual, you know? It’s kinda fun watching you work with your little tools there. You’re like a little Santa’s little elf or something. It’s pretty cute.”

“Gee, thanks, I’ve always wanted to work for Santa.”

She giggled. “So what are you making?”

You kept talking as you set up the mini station you unfolded out of the backpack. “Beef Bourguignon. It’s a classic dish in French cooking with a rich history. It originally hails from the Burgundy region of France, where it was traditionally made by peasants who needed a way to eat the tougher cuts of meat by slowly cooking them in red wine. Of course, my spin on the recipe is a bit unique, as I like using a delicious marinade of wine and aromatic herbs like…” You trailed off. Kelly had completely zoned out. She was leaning against the counter, head in her hand, and she was twirling her hair and staring at her phone. Her breasts were practically spilling out of her top, and the bulges of her nipples were brushing the counter. “...It’s a beef dish.”

“Oh! Cool. I love French food, like French fries.”

Well, she didn’t seem like the foodie type. It didn’t matter. Hey, maybe that was a good thing! If she’d never had fancy food, maybe she’d be utterly blown away by your dish?

 

You got to work with a renewed vigor. You hoisted the beef, oil, what veggies you had, and the rest of your things out of the backpack and got to sauteeing on the hot plate.

“Could you pre-heat the oven?”

“Uh… how do I do that?”

“There’s a button, or a knob, or a dial or something on the oven.”

“Which one’s the oven? You mean this?” She pointed to the microwave.

“...No, that’s the microwave. The oven is that one,” you pointed to it.

“Oh, ok! What button do I press?”

You sighed. This was going to be an ordeal.

 

—

 

You made small talk as you chopped, sauteed, braised, and boiled. Kelly seemed more impatient than interested. Maybe you overdid it? Should you have just bought her something pre-made, rather than making a show of cooking for her? It’s not like she could see your cool knife technique. The knife was too small for her to make out. 

 

Eventually, it was ready to go in the oven, and Kelly placed a baking pan on the counter for you. You were surprised she even owned one. You had made 10 whole portions, and you carried each one onto the pan. To you, it smelled incredible. You wondered if she could smell it at all.

 

“Okay Kelly, we’re almost there. Just carefully place that in the oven, and then we wait for it.”

“How long will it take?” She asked, clearly bored by now.

“Well… maybe 45 minutes?”

“Oh.” She really seemed impatient now. You gulped. This wasn’t going nearly as well as you hoped. 

 

Without another word, she carefully picked up the pan, and brought it towards the oven, and: