Tutoring a Giant Girl About Titties Tiny Terry chapter 4 by KoroKoroAi

The girl who stepped into the classroom seemed to suck up all the light and air, replacing it with a cloud of vanilla-sweet perfume and a vibe of pure, undiluted girl.

“Ohmygosh, hi! Are you the tutor? You are sooooo tiny!”

Chloe. That was the name on his schedule. Chloe Matheson, 18, needing remedial tutoring in Biology. Specifically… Breast anatomy. She was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, her long, parted brown hair swishing over her shoulders. A big black bow headband perched on her crown like a cartoon butterfly. Her outfit was... minimal. A white spaghetti-strap top that was more strap than top, hugging curves that were, even by the generous standards of Eagle High, advanced for her age. Tiny denim shorts completed the look. A school uniform violation of epic proportions, but pointing that out to a giantess student was a one-way ticket to being flicked into a trash can, or worse.

“Yeah, that’s me. Terry Rose. I’m here to help with your Biology class,” Terry said, forcing his voice not to squeak. He stood a little straighter on the vast desk, trying to project some authority from his barely-one-inch height.

“Terry?? That is, like, the cutest name for a tiny ever!” Chloe giggled, her voice a high, lilted melody. She practically skipped to the desk, dropping her oversized pink backpack on the floor with a thud that made the desk tremble. Terry had to spread his arms to keep his balance.

She leaned over, planting her hands on the edge of the desk. The classroom disappeared, replaced by the cavernous shadow of her cleavage. The thin white fabric of her top strained, offering a dizzying view of soft, tanned slopes that curved into profound darkness. The scent of her skin and perfume washed over him, warm and cloying.

“So, what are we learning about today?” she asked, her big eyes blinking down at him with vapid curiosity.

“Um,” Terry said, tearing his gaze away from the seismic geography before him. He gestured to the textbook, open on the desk, which he couldn’t even see over. He grabbed his assignment sheet from his backpack, which listed the students and subjects they needed tutoring in. “Mammalian Anatomy. Specifically, the mammary glands. It says here you failed a test, so your teacher wanted you to-”

Chloe’s face lit up with a delight that was both innocent and deeply unnerving. “Oh! Titties! We’re learning about titties? That’s, like, my favorite subject!”

She pulled out the chair behind the teacher’s desk – a massive, creaking throne – and plopped down. Now she was level with the desk, her chin resting on her folded arms. Her face was the size of a building to Terry. Her glossy lips formed a perfect ‘O’ of fascination. Her eyes sparkled with excitement

“Okay, so like, explain it to me. All the stuff. The biology.” She waved a hand, her manicured nails – painted a sparkly purple.

Terry took a shaky breath. “Um… Right. Mammary glands. They’re modified sweat glands. Their primary biological function is to produce milk for nourishing offspring. They’re composed of adipose tissue - that’s fat - and glandular tissue, which contains the lobules and ducts for milk production…”

He launched into the textbook explanation, pointing at the diagrams on the textbook, asking her to turn the pages. Chloe listened, her head cocked. But her eyes kept drifting from the book to her own chest, then back to Terry, a slow, giggly smile spreading across her face.

“So… all that milky stuff…” she began, poking a finger gently at the side of her own breast. The flesh yielded, creating a dimple. “...it’s all in here? Like, right now? Even though I’m not, you know, preggers?”

Terry rolled his eyes (internally). “The structures are there, yes,” Terry said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “They develop during puberty under hormonal influence. But you won’t lactate unless you’re… Preggers. It persists as long as it keeps being expressed regularly afterwards.”

“Whoaaaaa.” She leaned closer, her breath stirring the air around him. It smelled like bubblegum. “That’s so weird. And cool. There’s so much stuff in there. Like, my one boob…” she cupped the underside of her left breast with her hand, hefting it up. “...my one, normal, girl boob is bigger than, like, whole apartment buildings for tinies. Once I saw one of the tiny teachers’ tiny apartments. Whole tiny families live there. And they’re smaller than my bra cup. That’s, like, so crazy.”

Terry felt a familiar, helpless heat creep up his neck. “I… Yes, I suppose the scale is quite different.”

“Different? It’s, like, insane!” she giggled. “Hey, are you so small you could you fit inside my milk ducts? Like, for real? Is that a thing?”

The question was so absurd, so casually invasive, that Terry could only stare. “No. That’s… not a thing. The ducts are microscopic, even relative to my size. And, not to mention it would be fatal. There’s no air in there.”

“Aww, that’s too bad,” she pouted, bur immediately brightened. “But you could, like, get lost on my boob, right? Just, like, wander around for days.” She giggled. “My mom says I’m still growing, too! I had to shop for more bras just last weekend. I’m already way bigger than she is. And my mom is, like, enormous.”

She was completely off-track now, the biology lesson forgotten in the wake of her own anatomy. Terry was just a sounding board, a tiny audience for her girly musings. He tried to speak up, and get her back on track, but she wasn’t listening at all.

“It’s so funny,” she continued, resting her chin back on her hands, her eyes dreamy. “My tiny Daddy and my tiny brother get sooooo embarrassed by them. Like, red-faced, can’t look at us when we wear low-cut stuff. It’s adorable.”

Terry’s own face felt like it was on fire. He knew exactly that kind of embarrassment.

“My mommy,” Chloe went on, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis, “does this thing with her boobs and with Daddy. She dips Daddy in, like, this jar of really sticky stuff at night, then she sticks him in her titties. Right in the middle, where it’s all warm and soft. Why does she do that? Is it, like, a biology thing?”

Terry’s mouth was dry. “I… I don’t think that’s in the textbook.”

She continued, undisturbed. “And she rubs them on him whenever she gets the chance! When she’s watching TV, or on the phone. She just plops him on her chest and, like, smushes him around with them. He gets all squirmy, but he never really tries to get away. Daddy obviously loves boobs, you know? So why does he avoid them sometimes? He stopped wanting to be hugged by me when I hit puberty...” A flicker of genuine, childish confusion passed over her features. “Why would he do that? My hugs are awesome.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. The gossip was flowing now, a stream-of-consciousness monologue about the tiny men in her life.

“And my tiny brother! He used to love being in Mom’s boobs when he was little. Like, he practically slept there sometimes. But then he hit puberty too, and Mom stopped putting him in there. Even though he still begged her to. Like, cried and everything. She said it wasn’t ‘appropriate’ anymore.” Chloe rolled her eyes, a monumental gesture. “Ugh, moms are so weird about rules. It’s just boobs! They’re so comfy!” She pressed her hands into hers, kneading them like dough. “Super comfy and soft. What tiny guy wouldn’t want to feel these?”

“Listen, Chloe, I think we should get back on topic...” Terry was drowning in her words, in the overwhelming, giggly, utter innocence that reduced his entire existence to a trivial, cute side-note in the story of her developing body. He was a speck. And she wasn’t listening to him at all.

“So, like,” Chloe said, her focus snapping back to him with terrifying intensity. “What about you? Do you get embarrassed? By these?”

She didn’t gesture this time. She simply leaned forward, until the soft, warm swell of her breasts pressed against the edge of the desk right in front of him. The white fabric stretched taut. He was so close he could see the individual threads of the material, the pores on the skin and the faint red pulse of her heartbeat, the warmth radiating from her like a sun. The sheer, immense presence of it was suffocating.

He couldn’t speak. He could only stare, his whole body humming with a mortifying mixture of terror and unwanted, instinctual arousal. He wished someone would rescue him from this embarrassing hell.

Chloe stared at him a moment and burst out laughing, sounding like tinkling bells. “You do! You totally do! You’re all red! You’re just like my Daddy!”

Her hand, which had been resting on the desk, moved with a thoughtless, playful curiosity. Her thumb and forefinger, each larger than his entire body, reached for him.

“No, no, wait, I—” Terry protested, stumbling backwards.

It was useless. Her fingers closed around him with gentle, unbreakable certainty. She lifted him from the desk, bringing him up through the air. The classroom whirled below him – the dizzying view of the floor, the distant chairs, the speck that was his textbook.

Then, he was held before her face. Her giant, beautiful, vapid face filled his world. Her eyes, pools of sparkling color, examined him with delight. Her lips, glossy and pink, curved into a smile.

“You’re just the cutest little thing,” she cooed, her breath washing over him. “So smart, talking about ducts and lobules and stuff. But so, so tiny.”

She turned him this way and that, as if inspecting a new piece of jewelry. He dangled from her pinch-hold, his legs kicking feebly in open air. The humiliation was absolute. The biology tutor, reduced to a living doll in the hands of his failing student.

“I’m gonna get an A for sure now,” she whispered, giggling, as she brought him closer to her chest, clearly contemplating where to put her new lucky charm. “This has been, like, the best tutoring sesh ever. Thanks little guy.”