/d/ Giantess prompt - Unappreciated fairy

"Sorry, not happening"

She had a pout that could move a mountain, and knew it too. The plump red lip jutting ever so softly out, the slight furrow of her brow. The subtle tilt of her head and searching eyes. She could wrap just about anyone around her finger.

Just a shame then, that she was barely the size of yours.

"Come on, mister. I can promise you you've never had someone like me before. Don't you know to not judge a book by it's cover?"

She stamps a foot for effect, and though it makes her tits bounce and bulge almost out of her top, she barely makes a dent in the bedsheet. At barely six inches tall, the little fairy would be hard pressed to make much of a dent in anything. You roll your eyes as you respond.

"I didn't pay to read. I paid to play with tit's the size of my head, and then some." You hands fondle the air, the pliant flesh of tantalizing imagination molding and squeezing in your mind. "Minotaur milkbags that never run dry. Orc tits that blot out my vision. You know, melons, not..." you narrow your eyes at her, and bring your thumb and forefinger together,"...grapes."

The sprite is in the air at that, her aesthetic, yet tiny, tits bouncing before your eyes.

"Sound's like you have a type, then."

"A type I paid for. I thought I made it clear to the receptionist."

"I see. But you know," there's a smug smile on her face, but you can hear steel behind her teeth. "There's more to breasts than just size."

Her hands gesture around her chest, exaggerating just enough for you to see.

"What good are breasts that just sit there? That don't bounce or emote?"

As if following her lead, her busom jiggles in it's place, almost following her hands.

"Who wants a pair with sag? Firmness plays a role too. And let's not forget general shape."

You roll your eyes. You've heard it all before.

"These just sound like excuses for flat chests."

"They do, don't they? But a real breast enthusiast wouldn't turn his nose at the chance to test them, would he?"

She's presenting her breasts now, arms locked behind her head, swaying her tits from side to side. And you have to admit, the way they wobble slightly, the way they pull at their confines. It's like their begging to be touched.

She must see your temptation, because she thrusts her chest further, and closes the deal.

"And after all, the first sample is free~"

...well shit. What harm could there be, really?

"Alright lady. One touch, and I'm gone."

Your fingers reach out, preparing to pinch. The fairy opens her arms, chest swelling.

"One touch is all it'll take."

That set off an alarm bell, but it's too late. Your finger have already hit flesh. And for a few seconds, you're surprised. The breast flesh is surprisingly pleasant to touch, less like a tiny sandbag, and more like a ripe fruit.

Then your entire arm goes numb.

You try to cry out in shock, but your mouth feels like its filled with cotton. The feeling, or lack of it rather, crawls through your entire body, and your vision begins to swim. You feel as if your falling, but with your feet firmly planted on the ground. you double over, dazed and confused, clutching your head, until the feeling subsides. You feel your clothing sticking to your back, a cold sweat the only lasting evidence of the fairies subterfuge.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Your eyes snap up at the that, both in anger and confusion. Who did she think she was, attacking you for your taste? And why was her voice so loud? What did she think she could accomplish by...

Any thoughts in your head are brought to a halt. You were crouching on the floor, and expected the fairy to be floating above your head, laughing. What you didn't expect was only half of her to be above your head.

In a word, the fairy was big. Huge even. No longer was she the dainty temptress hovering before your eyes. She sat on the floor, laying back, legs splayed open. Each thigh, smooth as marble, and clearly as strong, was the size of your waist. You leap up, unable to hold back your panic as you notice the fairy still has to look down to keep your eyeline, even with you standing. Which leaves you about eye level with...

"There you go. Eyes on the prize."

For a few moments, her tits are your entire world. What you'd shrugged off as unimportant moments ago now dominated your entire field of vision. Some small part of your brain registers the familiar, soft ground texture, the interlocking weave of massive fibers, the lack of furniture. Some part of your brain begs you to look around, to look at the bed-like surface you're on. Some part of you knows that you're a puny thing next to fairy, standing atop a perfectly normal bed.

But you can't register that. At this scale, you can see the way the fairy's tunic bites into her tit flesh, the way the light seems to bounce down the valley of her cleavage. The truly flawless skin, engorged, bathing in the air. The barest sliver of pink creeping through her shirt's edge, enough to charm the coldest hearts. Any hope of rational thought is gone. You don't even register walking towards her until you're within arms reach of her treasures, standing within her legs, eye to nipple nub.

"Not bad for a set of grapes, eh?"

That breaks you out of your reverie. You swallow hard, and tear your eyes away from her chest, finally meeting hers. She's wearing a triumphant grin, though you can't exactly blame her. Pride is a tough pill to swallow, but when faced with such a conclusive argument, you have no choice but to yield.

"Okay. Point taken."

Your mouth is almost to dry to talk, and the words are less graceful concession, more hoarse squeak. But it seems to work, as the fairy shifts forward, hands clamping onto your arms. Her grip is like a vice, almost painful, and eyes narrow, even as her smile widens.

"No, no. I'm sure you're not satisfied with just this, right?"

Your hair begins to stand on end, but any protests or questions are silenced as she begins to move. With a small grunt of effort, she rises to her feet, lifting you clear off the ground. It's uncomfortable, supported only by your shoulders, as a girl might hold a doll. But your kicking feet do nothing as your captor keeps going.

"You said a pair that could blot out your vision, with and endless milk supply. The way I see it," and she leans in close, breasts spilling, cleavage taunting you with the faintest scent of honey and vine. Her face is right next to yours, and you can't help but take notice of how big everything is. Her cold eyes seem to drill into your very soul, overwhelming you. Teeth longer than your fingers, and sharper and stronger than any wolf you've ever seen. Lips, plump and red, curled in fiendish delight, like living pillows. when they move, her hot breath tickles your skin, and sends chills down your spine.

"You're not nearly small enough."

The numbness returns with that. It spreads along your entire body, faster than you can react to, but slow enough for you too feel. There's less pain this time, more of a mild discomfort, and the feeling of intense pressure on your chest. But maybe you preferred the pain. Now, you can see the process, and that only causes you to panic more. The fairy's hands widen and widen, covering your upper arms, then the lower arms, until they're pinning both your entire arms to your body. You kick your dangling feet, trying to find purchase more than cause damage, but only the first swing touches flesh. her tits bounce and wiggle from her kick, but when you swing them back, they no longer reach. By the third swing, your hips are level with the bottoms of her hands.Her face recedes into the relative distance. Where it was once the size of a barrel, it balloons to bull's size, then a small cottage. The same nagging voice in your head speaks up again, reminding you that the fairy is still, at most, six inches tall. You don't dare try to think about how small that makes you.

Her hands shift, and you're aware that most of you can fit in her cupped grip. Hell, if she made a fist, she could hold most of you, with just your legs poking out. And still, the pressure continues, unabated. Your head drifts down, past her thumbs, as the supernaturally smooth skin starts to reveal its courseness. What was once marble given life is now closer to polished soapstone. Pleasant to the touch still, but with grooves and edges running along its length. Her massive thumb moves, and you can only despair, as the grinning fay rolls you from one hand, into the other, back and forth. To you, each turn is like falling off a cliff, and rolling into another larger one. You cry and flail, but with each trip, her fingers grow larger and larger, the turns more turbulent. And then, the rolling stops. You tumble to a stop, tears in your eyes, braced between a wedge by your hips, and a column behind you. The pressure has subsided, and you try to calm your roiling stomach.

Your wedged between a callous on her palm, and her finger. You know that, in the abstract sense. But you can't really know that, or accept it. There's enough room on the callous to seat you and a small family comfortable. The finger behind you is so large, should you try to hug it, your arms would begin to bend. You're so small, a part of you wails, nothing feels smooth. Her skin is covered with ridges and bumps, enough that you could feasibly climb her finger, given infinite time and energy. Theoretically, at least. the fat of her finger is large enough that you would have to climb almost horizontally for some distance.

Then everything shakes.

Her gargantuan face appears in the sky. It doesn't seem to move, or blur. One moment, its a vague and unfathomable figure on the horizon, and the next, her eyes, nostrils, and mouth fill your entire view.

'There you are'

Her voice is in your head now, but you don't see a twitch of movement from the mouth above. And suddenly you can't hold back. You fill the air will your cries and wails, your ravings and words. You scream, and curse, and threaten, and the you beat the ground with your fists. And then you cry out again, and sob openly, begging, pleading, and bargaining, on your knees, on your feet, looking for anything. And then, only when silence fills the area around you, do you hear her again.

'Sorry little guy. You're way to small for me to hear. Or even feel, really.'

'Now, I'm sure you have some questions.'

That's a massive understatement, but you still find yourself looking toward her face in response. Her eye, at least. Looking at her is like trying to look at the entire sky all at once. It's better to just pick an area of focus. Your world begins to shake,a dn you drop to all fours, nails digging into what ridges you can grab.

'But let me get this out of the way. Your questions don't matter. You barely even matter right now.'

It's a cruel thing to say, but the way her eye dilates, the way it flutters as she says it speaks volumes. Even as you cling for life, even as a strange creaking and tearing fills the air, your heart sinks as her eye brightens.

Your world turns, and the sky changes. Her face no longer hangs above you, but now soars out of sight, as you come face to face with a massive, cracked red wall. The scent of honey fills the air, and you cry out as your world tuns upside down. your fall is mercifully brief, as you land with a thud on a red plain. It's soft and pliant, despite it's appearance, the cracks appearing on closer inspection to merely be folds and creases. There's a curve to the surface too, though there's enough room to stand safely. Resting a hand against the wall, you feel a slight throb in response. It runs from the wall, down beneath your feet. Then it continues, and your knees tremble as you begin to put the pieces together.

'Welcome to my nipple. I'm sure it's nothing compared to a grape, though.'

The disdain is present in your head, but you don't have the energy to even sob. A shadow falls over you, as a massive hand in the distance drags a creaking, scraping piece of cloth over where you stand, higher and higher, until it blocks out your light. It hangs in the distance, the fabric straining, the flesh twisting, until you feel the now familiar pressure, and let out a wail.

'Tits that block out the sky, and endless milk. Right in front of you. I'd pick a fold and hope it leads to a duct.'

With that, the sky falls.

The fabric snaps against the nipple, causing the entire breast to jiggle slightly. The fairy's nipple hardens in response, throbbing, and growing thicker. With a nod to herself, the fairy readjusts her dress, and bounces off the bed, wings beating and propelling her through the air. She had some time before her next customer. Might as well enjoy herself.