Kelly held the pan with one hand as she bent down to open up the oven. As she bent down, she started to lose balance on the pan, and her hand slowly let it dip down as she focused on the oven.

“Kelly, keep the pan straight!”

“Huh, what was that, Phil?” As she said this, she let go of the oven, and spun around. She was limp-wristedly holding the pan, and the dishes started tumbling out and falling towards the floor.

Crash! Each one of the ten pots fell to the floor and exploded, sending ceramic shards and soup splattering all over the floor.

“Oh no!” Kelly drew her free hand to her mouth as she stepped back and looked down at the remains of the cooking. “Oh my god, I didn’t even feel them fall out of the pan!”

You leaned over the edge of the counter and stared. All that hard work was now just a mess on the floor. The expensive herbs you used to marinate the beef, all the strain and fatigue of lugging around your heavy backpack full of equipment to her apartment, all your careful preparation. You were certain it would have been the best damn Beef Bourguignon you’d ever made. It would have made your teachers proud. Now it was just slop on the floor, destined to feed only the mop. 

“Fuck.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! The food!”

“Fuck. Augh.” This was awful. A disaster. What could you do now?

But you couldn’t blame her for it. Actually, this was a common mistake in co-ed kitchens. Giants often had a hard time helping tinies cook for this reason, so it was seldom, if ever, done. To them, it was hard to feel the tiny dishes on the pan. The pan was much heavier than the food, so it felt like the pan was still empty, so it was easy for them to forget and not hold it carefully. But you had no choice this time. It’s not like Kelly had a tiny oven for you. God! Why didn’t you think of this? You should have made her something that didn’t require an oven. Stupid, stupid.

Kelly looked at you like she had just accidentally stepped on a puppy. Her eyes were starting to well up with tears. You had to say something.

“Hey, it’s okay… I’m sorry, this was a really bad idea anyway.”

“No, I’m sorry, I should have been more careful! I’m so sorry, Phil. I’m sure it would have been delicious and amazing.”

She knelt down beneath the counter and brought her face to it, grabbing the counter on either side with the tops of her fingers. Again, you got a very up-close look at her face and her stunning features. She was pouting adorably. Her golden hair draped the sides of her head, framing its beauty. God, how could you ever hold a grudge against such a stunning woman?

“It’s okay, really. This sort of thing tends to happen when giants and tinies cook together. This is why we tend to have separate kitchens.” Among other reasons, you thought.

“Aw… still, you worked so hard on it… I’m sorry, little guy. Can I kiss you and make it better?”

“Wh-” You almost choked when you tried to respond. Did you hear that right? You felt the sudden heat of a blush reddening your face completely. You wished you could control your blushes, but it was impossible.

She giggled, and her pout turned into her grinning, ivory-white teeth. “Just kidding. Maybe later though!” She winked at you and stood up from the counter. You were speechless, and you felt your blush deepen as she rose from the counter. You wondered if she realized she was giving you an excellent view of her chest, then her midriff, and finally her waist as she stood. She looked down at your speechless, tomato-red self again and giggled. One thing was for certain. She loved teasing you.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I’ll microwave something quick and maybe we can have a drink together.” She let her hands flutter on the counter in front of you before spinning around and reaching deep into a cabinet. She raised herself on her toes to reach, and arched her back, lifting her crop top slightly higher on her back and curving her butt, making it look oh, so juicy. You wondered how soft it would feel to lay on top of it. Or under it.

She withdrew from the cupboard holding a package of microwavable cup ramen. The dime-a-dozen kind in a styrofoam cup with red and yellow design. Your heart dropped a bit. This is what your romantic, home-made dinner had turned into. A cheap, mass-produced microwave meal. What kind of chef were you to let your date eat this? But it was too late to suggest cooking something else. That, and you thought this was actually the only food she had. You peeked into the cabinet and saw many packages of cup ramen, stacked high, wide, and deep.

“It’s not Beef Bougie, but it’s something!”

Great. You consoled yourself with another look at her ass as she leaned over the sink to fill it up, then again as she put it in the microwave, the one kitchen appliance she didn’t need help with.

“I’m starving, how about you?” She asked.

“I’m pretty hungry, yeah.”

Beep, beep, beep. One minute and thirty seconds was all it took for the cup ramen to finish. Barely a fraction of the time your dish would have been in the oven, not to mention the preparation time.

“Well, let’s dig in! Come on, we can watch it in the living room. There’s a great TV show on. Have you heard of Tiny Bachelor?”

“Yeah, my coworkers talk about it a lot.” You were glad just to change the subject. “I’ve watched a few episodes myself, and, uh, it’s fun.” Actually, it wasn’t fun, it was a pretty humiliating show. You hated the way it portrayed tinies, because - 

“Yeah, it’s so funny when the girls sit on him by mistake!” That was why. 

“Haha, yeah, it’s pretty relatable.”

“I bet! I bet you just can’t get away from girls’ big butts, like mine,” She slapped her hip and chuckled. “Come on, let’s go, little tiger.” She brought her hand down to the counter, and you climbed on and sat down in her palm. You left behind the wreckage of your meal preparation and tried to put it out of your mind.

The walk to the living room was uneventful. Kelly held you with one hand, the cup ramen in the other hand, and in between, her braless breasts jiggled slightly with each step. You watched her covered nipple rub against the soft fabric with each jiggle. Maybe this date wasn’t turning out so bad after all. Maybe next time - you yearned for a next time - you would just bring something premade.

She leaned down to place you and the cup on the coffee table. You looked up at her, trying not to stare at the round silhouettes of her breasts hanging freely under the slightly transparent crop top. 

She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. It was already on the channel where Tiny Bachelor was running.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? I just need to freshen up.”

“No worries, take your time! I’ll be fine here.”

She spun around and walked past the TV into a door in the hallway. Hate to see you go…

Tiny Bachelor. You hated that show. It was really popular, too. During class, your giantess classmates often joked about the latest scandal or mishap on the show, whereas you and your fellow tinies tended to grit your teeth. You hated how the show portrayed and made fun of the tiny bachelor, Ryan, who was helpless against the advances (and blunders) of the 8 gorgeous giant bachelorettes, and you’d complain about it with each other. Out of earshot of the giant girls, of course.

Tonight was no different. This episode’s premise was that one of the girls, Rebecca, was feeling jealous of how close another girl, Emily, had gotten to Ryan. So to try and turn her off of him, she sewed him into Emily’s bra and covered him up with fabric. The plan was to out him as a pervert when Emily discovered him.

Who comes up with this crap? you wondered, as you watched the quickly-cut close-ups of Emily bouncing around on a treadmill, complete with dramatic sound effects and interspersed clips purportedly from Ryan’s microphone of him wheezing.

But you had a bigger issue. You stared up at the cup of ramen next to you, feeling the heat radiate off of it. How am I supposed to have any? you thought. She didn’t leave you a bowl or anything. And you were actually really hungry. There was a neatly-stacked pile of books next to it, with titles like “Button Fashion Unfashioned” and “Wabi-Sabi Welcome”. Somehow, you were absolutely certain she had never opened these books. But the books did look perfectly climbable. And you spotted a stray noodle hanging off the side of the cup. A plan hatched in your mind.

Tinies, of course, are quite used to climbing. As accessibility just isn’t a big concern for most giants, climbing and scrambling to get around is something you’ve accepted as an everyday fact of life. You climb up “Gestalten” and shimmy between “The Annual Ornithologist” and “Les Arts Décoratifs,” and eventually you reach the top of the stack, with a clear view of the steaming cup. The stray noodle is just barely out of your reach. You think you could hop onto the rim and grab it. Alternatively, the piping-hot cup is making you hesitate. You could just give up and wait for Kelly to get back. What should you do?