The rest of the lecture washed over me like white noise. I just looked at the note, then flipped it, then looked at the back of her head. Amy J didn’t look at me again, seemingly listening to the professor talk about the tiny suffrage movement. It was all too much. Did she know? I’d been eyeing her in class for a few days but mostly from behind. I only left class a few times to relieve some stress. I resolved that it must be nothing. A simple choice of paper, whatever was handy. She doesn’t know I’ve been daydreaming about her begging me for her life. Still, I was mortified. All this time and now she was the one to make the first move. Maybe she’d picked up on how hard I’ve been avoiding her. Or how I blush when she smiles. How I can’t bear to watch her walk around the table without feeling impossible things.
Before I could compose myself, class ended. I didn’t really have anything to pack, so I just got up and walked to the tiny desk. They were all walking towards the causeway for tinies, and some were getting picked up by friends and carried off. Amy was standing there at the edge, holding her books. I realized I was pressing my thumb against my fingers, grinding rhythmically. I took a deep breath and relaxed before bending down to make myself eye-level with her.
She was so small, yet so beautiful. That was the closest I had been to her. I picked up the slightest scent of strawberries as my face met hers. My nose hung over the lip of the table just out of reach.
“Hi,” I said, careful not to blow my words across the table.
“Hey.” Her voice was bold despite being so quiet.
She wore a long yellow sundress with oversized (for her) brown boots. Small fashion always seemed a little strange but she pulled it off. Her auburn hair was curly and springy. She was miniature art.
“I got your note. You need a ride?”
“Yeah, to the science building. But actually… I’m kinda hungry, do you wanna go grab something? They never have anything good at the canteen.” Her smile was broad and sure.
“Uhm, yeah, I think I know someplace.” I lied, I had no idea what I was doing. I was supposed to be going to the arts center for graphic design.
“Great! Give me a lift?” Amy asked and eagerly stepped forward.
“I’m not used to… I’m afraid of hurting you.” I unfurled my palm onto the table. She walked over and grasped my pinky. The softest touch, like a snowflake.
“You can’t hurt me, don’t worry” She laughed and lifted herself aboard.
I watched her climb onto my palm, the miniature ways in which she moved were fascinating. My skin formed little depressions where she walked, and it tickled. I blinked and she was a red stain, dripping down the side of my hand. Crumpled gore splattered across my short black nails. I blinked again and she was just standing there, grasping my thumb for support.
“Ready?”
“Yeah. Hold On.”
I gently wrapped my fingers around her back to steady her against my thumb and took special care to keep her upright and firm as I lifted her. It was a well-practiced motion from previous tiny handling classes but I didn’t really try it on anyone. My hand was shaking just a little, and I hoped she didn’t notice. She seemed alright, but she just watched me instead of where we were going. That fucking smile.
I decided to take her to the fry shack at the other end of campus. I hadn’t seen any tinies there and it was probably a dozen miles for her.
“Do you pick up a lot of girls?” She asked as I walked.
“I haven’t really dated,” I answered, smiling now myself.
“Girls?”
“No, tinies. I’ve dated plenty of girls.”
“I get that.” Her smile had diminished somewhat.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m afraid of hurting you, you know?”
“It’s not so bad, you know. You learn to tumble.” Amy made a quick gesture, a mock karate move with her free hand as she stood on me.
“Well, I guess you have to.” I laughed.
“Besides, I don’t mind getting tossed around a bit, you know?” Her smile was back.
I merely blushed and focused on walking. Many students were zigzagging through the crowd and the sound of their voices made talking impossible. I felt Amy’s eyes on me and only me as we walked. It was a little unnerving at first but I very quickly grew to enjoy it. It was fun to have her watch me while I ignored her. A little change of pace from sitting behind her in class. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling. When you look out the window of a tall building and see all the cars zooming around, knowing they cannot see you. The opposite of that feeling.
We made it to the fry shack which was a little quieter. The open-air restaurant was mostly a literal shack, situated under a tree near the staff parking lot. It was a nice day. I tried to focus on that. I tried not to focus on her softness and warmth. I tried not to think about pulling her in close and examining her like a captured insect. I tried not to think about how I could swipe my thumb across the pad of my finger and snap her neck. It would be less than the effort to push a console controller’s joystick.
“You kinda just order fries here, they don’t have much else. That sound good?”
“Sure, I’ll have what you’re having. You OK sharing?” Amy chided. She was terribly uppity for a tiny. No fear, just joking with me as if I didn’t hold her life in my hands.
“Ha! I guess I can make an exception. You may have one fry.” I concluded with a posh accent.
I ordered, setting her on the counter as I paid with my student ID. My hands worked quickly and I hadn’t noticed just how fast until I saw her staring. She watched me unlatch my wallet and withdraw a card the way someone might watch a building demolition. The shack clerk rolled her eyes, and I blushed. She thought we were together.
I placed my hand on the counter. She looked at it, then up at me.
“You can just, like, pinch me if you want. It’s faster.”
My heart leapt. I wanted to badly, my fingers burned to squeeze her. But there wasn’t really any way to grab her without feeling her up, and it was rather bad etiquette; like touching someone’s hair in public. It was also dangerous. One moment you’ve got a tight grip and the next you’ve got two pieces of a tiny.
My hesitance was nearing awkward, and people were waiting behind us. I steeled myself, exhaling sharply.
“OK. You asked for it.” I smirked.
I didn’t waste any time. If she wanted to be plucked, I would pluck her. Maybe this would convince her that a relationship with me wasn’t meant to be. I treated her like one of my belongings and snatched her like loose change from the cashier. She squeaked, much to my enjoyment. But it wasn’t a squeak of pain or fear. Excitement, perhaps? I caught a glimpse of her as I walked to the table. She was bright red. I tried not to think of the other noises I could elicit from her tiny mouth. She didn’t even try to hold on, limbs swaying with my stride. I could feel her little breasts against my thumb, and the pressure I relieved earlier in my car returned.
I found a seat and let her hang from my thumb over the table. Those strange little boots kicked with glee as I lowered her. Her little limbs were quick, she stuck the landing with grace. Her miniature muscles were toned and graceful, even while tossed around a little. I loved the way her legs moved, it made me want to grab hold of them and twist. I was starting to get uncomfortable, I tried not to squeeze my thighs together while I sat.
“See? Hehe. Faster.” She did a little curtsey that melted my heart. She was still red but clearly enjoying herself. Her curls were slightly askew as if she’d been on a thrill ride. Perhaps she had.
I realized the places on my hand where she had touched me were still warm. When she was fully on the table I withdrew my hand and placed it on my thigh. I wanted to lick my thumb to see if it tasted like strawberries.
“Heh. Yeah.” I tried not to sound distracted.
“Sorry,” Amy said, “I didn’t mean to kidnap you from wherever you were planning to go just to have lunch with a random tiny.”
I laughed. It was adorable that she felt she was the one who brought us here. I could have stuffed her into my panties and nobody would have seen her again. I could have taken her to my car and reenacted my fantasy. My laugh turned a little sour. Awkward.
“What?” Her face was twisted in mock accusation. Or was it genuine?
“I’m sorry,” I chuckled, “It’s just that I was the one who kidnapped you.”
“Did you, now? I usually have someone buy me a drink before kidnapping me.”
“Best I can give you is a fry?”
“Deal. But next time it’s drinks.”
The food came out before I could respond, just a simple fry basket with several sections on the side for different sauces. The fries there were really good, which they had to be in order to justify the shack.
“I don’t really have a… table or anything,” Amy said, looking around. She was right, this establishment had no tiny amenities.
“Sorry, I guess they don’t get a lot of tinies here. How about… you go into the basket? I don’t mind if you step on a few fries.”
“Works for me!”
“You’re sure it’s alright if I pinch you? It doesn’t hurt?”
“Are you kidding? It’s…” She hesitated, searching for the words, “really nice.” Her tone was sincere, her smile could almost cure me of my affliction. So sweet. So pure. Have you ever carved your finger through fresh snow? Ruined the pristine beauty, just because you could?
I reached out to pinch her, and she braced herself with a grin. No squeak this time, but a hearty giggle as I lifted her into the basket. I let her go just above the far edge, and she landed gently in the pile.
“Awesome!” Her face lit up to see the veritable mountain of food.
“Ketchup or honey mustard?” I asked as I took a fry.
“Ketchup, do I look crazy to you?”
“Big talk from someone in my fry basket,” I raised an eyebrow as I chewed the fry, making sure to punctuate my words and expose the masticated potato. She turned almost scarlet and looked away. Perhaps I had struck a nerve?
I reached over her and picked up the little paper ketchup container. It was large enough for her to take a bath if she wanted. I intended to dribble a little bit next to her but misjudged the viscosity. A large glob of the red dipping sauce spilled out of the container, landing square on her arm. She was instantly coated up to her shoulder, red flecks splattering across her dress.
“Oh! Fuck! I’m so so sorry!” I exclaimed.
“Hehe! I’m a french fry!” She laughed, unperturbed.
I ripped off a chunk of napkin and handed it to her, but it was simply too much. It was like using a very poor towel. She took it but could not possibly clean everything. I merely watched, it was my own turn to turn scarlet.
“It’s OK, I’ve had worse discharge on me,” Amy added with a sly wink.
This was too much. She made jokes but it was no joke for me. Just last week I had imagined her submerged in my cum, face pressed up to the wall of a little jar. Gurgling and crying as I pleasured myself over her, squirting until I filled the container. Cumming until she drowned.
“Let me go get this napkin a little wet,” I said, my mouth bone dry. I started to leave.
“Wait!” Amy called back.
I stopped and sat back down to listen to her. She had a very strange half-smile and was blushing as red as the ketchup. I blinked and her arm was gone, cleaved off. Deep red blood was spurting from her ruined stump. She was screaming why, why did I do that to her? I blinked again and it was just ketchup. She was fine, just a little sticky.
“I know this is weird, but can you just… lick it off?” She winced as the words left her.
I swallowed hard. Even among same-size friends, this was an absurd request. I had technically only just met her and now she wanted me to put my mouth on her. We hadn’t even kissed yet. She wore that cute yellow dress and sat in my fry basket and asked me to taste her. My thighs clenched together.
“I’m not sure I…” I couldn’t speak.
“Believe it or not, this happens a lot. Nothing really gets the sticky out. Except, well, spit. Or hand sanitizer, but that’s awful for my skin.”
“I can just get a napkin wet, I mean I don’t want to…” I stammered.
“No, Yeah. That’s OK. I’m sorry I asked.” She averted her gaze, the smile was gone.
I didn’t get up. Seeing her dejected and covered in a sticky mess did something for me. I wasn’t sure what it was yet but it was rather endearing. I thought about the times I had pictured slamming her into my cunt until she popped. I held up my fingers, covered in her scent. Strawberries. I admitted that I wanted to taste her, but not like this. I wanted to nibble and bite. I wanted to see what she looked like without that arm.
“Wait. Look. Amy I really like you. I don’t think this could work because I’m fucking awful but…”
“You’re not awful. The fuck?” Amy was aghast. “You’re… fucking amazing.” Her voice was even and firm. It betrayed her silly predicament.
“What I’m saying is, if you were my girlfriend I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I don’t think I have that in me.”
“I thought you liked girls?” Amy stood.
“That’s not it… I’ve hurt tinies before. I don’t want to again.”
“Everyone gets hurt in relationships.”
“Not like that.” I thought about popping her like a grape.
“What if I told you that I was capable of handling myself? I’m a big girl, despite needing a little help now and then.”
“Can you tell me when I’m too much?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Oh my god, how can you be this hot but so dense?”
I blushed. This was a bad idea. I wanted it so bad but I knew where it would end. Either she would see me for the monster I was or she would end up smeared across something.
“Fine. But just because you look so pathetic.”
She beamed despite my slight. I reached over the basket, pinching her around her legs. I looked around. Nobody was really watching or anything, but there were people around. What would they think, anyway? That we were dating? That we were just in love? A silly sloppy kiss between girls? Surely nobody would think that I’d slathered her in ketchup just to take a bite. Surely nobody would think I was about to devour someone at the school fry shack. Surely…
I lifted her and held her upside down. She looked tasty. I felt myself blush. I hoped that she assumed it was from embarrassment. In reality, the monster within was surging forth. I wanted to savor her like a french fry. Snip that arm just to know the look on her silly smiling face. I dangled her above my lips, her sticky red arm was hanging down. Ready to be devoured.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were about to eat me.” She laughed, but a little nervously.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted me to.” I didn’t laugh.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened my mouth and used my tongue to guide her arm inside. She tasted mostly of ketchup, which was to be expected. Then I lowered her down a bit and sucked her in up to the shoulder. It was the closest I had seen her face, too close to focus on her properly. Her smile was dreamy and distant, lips half-parted. I closed my eyes and molested her tiny arm, lapping the flavor away even after I could taste no more ketchup. She tasted like strawberries. Not perfume, not artificial sweeteners. Just sweet and tart.
I could have bit down then. It would have been so easy. Every fiber in my body wanted to. I wasn’t satisfied probing her skin with my tongue. Her arm convulsed, so full of life. Delicious. I knew I was about to go too far. I was about to cross a line, the pressure building until I opened my eyes and withdrew her. A thin tendril of saliva clung to her hand, my body was sad to see her go so soon.
She was breathing heavily. So was I. She looked at me and I could not place her expression. Bewilderment? Fear? Excitement? It wasn’t long before her smile returned, but it was shaky and tilted even as I lowered her onto the fries.
“I think I might need to use the restroom.” She said flatly.
“Oh. Yeah, sure. Better get cleaned up.” I tried to joke but there was no joke to tell.
Fuck. She had seen it, hadn’t she? The same vision as I had. Parts of her disappearing into my mouth… This was why I didn’t fucking date tinies. Kissing normal women was so much simpler.