Lunch Buddies: Smoke Break

I’m cruising along pretty good. All the other departments have turned in their claims, almost all were valid, and I’m chunking through the fiscal quarter’s returns, when those magic words lance through my back like a dinner fork.

“Hey, ready to take a break?”

Every single time, all my nerves get set on edge. I know Tana means well, she’s friendly and light-hearted, playful in her uncoordinated and short-sighted way, but I’ve developed an association with that phrase. Kinda like if you heard a pleasant three-note bell chime right before a speeding car T-boned another in an intersection. The music is still pleasant, but your body flinches and expects something horrible. I take a deep breath and turn to greet her with a smile. It can be a pinched smile or a tight smile, she can’t see from her immense height.

And she doesn’t really care, either.

The long, tall, slender woman leans against my cube partition, heedless of how she rocks it nearly out of frame. I don’t care, I don’t stick anything up on the walls, but my neighbor has complained about this bull-in-a-china-store before, as though I have any sway over the force of nature that is Tana Hands. She folds her long arms, wraps her long, shapely fingers around each elbow in a butterscotch jacket, and stretches her bright, sunny grin at me. I have to admit, that smile does tend to take the edge off.

“I thought we’d go for a smoke break. Wanna come?”

Every time I think I’ve heard every stupid thing come out of her mouth, she surprises me. “Neither of us smoke, Tana.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s unfair that smokers get all that paid time off and we don’t?” She waggled her dark eyebrows at me over her classic, all-business frames.

I can only stare at her, feeling something like an idiot myself. She has a really good point. I trot over to the pen cup, where my blazer’s hanging from the eraser of a mechanical pencil, and put my tethered business smartphone to sleep. I raise up my arms, my signal to this goofy giantess that I’m ready for her; she extends her wide palms around me like a narrow valley of smooth, healthy flesh and gently scoops me up into her grasp. No one else is as gentle and attentive as she is, to give credit where it’s due.

She prefers taking the stairs down to the ground floor, even though we’re eight floors up. Tana prefers her exercise, values her health. “Sitting’s the new smoking,” she told me once, so it’s kind of ironic that we’re… no, it’s not.

Perched on her shoulder, I wrap one fist in her glossy honey-and-cocoa hair and grasp her hoop earring in the other. She wears jewelry just for me, I realize, and I feel a little worse for judging her so dimly. I holler up into her ear, “I don’t know why I never thought about this smoke break thing. I guess I’m too busy keeping my nose to the grindstone, you know, what with everyone already thinking so badly of Anthropoles as it is.”

“Huh,” she sings, her voice bouncing off the stairwell walls. “I’ve never seen itty-bitty cigarettes, come to think of it! Do any of your Tiny friends smoke?”

“Anthropoles.” I’ve called her out on this before; she doesn’t care. “No, it’s not really common. For some reason Big Tobacco doesn’t consider us a viable market. I’ve seen mixers where a Normie unravels a cigarette and burns a little heap of tobacco, and some guys huddled around it like they were trying to inhale a campfire.”

Tana giggled and hopped down the stairs. “I would’ve liked to have seen that!”

“It was pretty sad, actually. They looked desperate. I’d just rather get drunk.”

She grunted and shoved the bar of a large service door. Daylight flooded us and we walked out to the designated smoker’s area: a dumpster next to Arlington Trust’s loading docks. “I read an article,” she chirped, unaffected by the squalor, “about how some Japanese businesses were going to offer nonsmokers three vacation days to compensate for all the breaks smokers take.”

I frowned at the dumpster, the detritus drifting about far, far below me. Tana’s huge foot, way off in the distance, booted a paper soda cup. “You were serious about taking a smoke break. I thought we’d go out for a snack or something.”

Her laughter rang out. Her head canted back to let it out, and the earring I grasped lurched back. I had to yank hard on her hair in order to not wrench her lobe. “Oh, I’m gonna get a cookie, don’t worry about that. Would you like a cookie?”

Aw, fuck. Seriously? Here? The answers to those questions were both YES, as the colossal woman strode around the immense steel waste receptacle. Tall as she was, it nearly hid her from easy view, if anyone should happen upon us back here. I hoped to Goddess they wouldn’t, as her huge, glistening fingernails plucked at my belt and zipper—her subtle signal to me to undo these things myself—and yanked my poor trousers right over my socks and shoes. I yelled at her to hold up: I untied my laces, tucked my socks into my shoes, pulled off my miniature boxers, wrapped it all up in my pants, and tossed them into her other waiting palm. She deposited my bundle in the chest pocket of her blazer and grotesquely licked her lips at me. From a distance, it was amusing what she thought was sexy. Up close, however, it was the stuff of nightmares.

Tana couched me in her hand and seemingly unhinged her jaw before me. The rear of her glistening pink cavern twitched as she giggled at me; overhead, her long nostrils flared and drilled up into darkness. She tilted her palm and I gently slid into her waiting mouth. My skin rippled with the thrill of my bare ass landing on her hot, moist tongue. With practiced skill she rolled me over to a prone position, so I was left gazing down the incredible length of her long, lean body. Perilously far below me, I watched her elongated fingers work at the button and zipper of her own slacks, tugging these down just enough to slip her hand inside her panties and start grinding. I parked my palms on her chin, resting my clothed chest upon her fat bottom lip, and stared at her activity.

Then she started working the tip of her tongue between my thighs and I lost my breath. Oh, my Goddess, what Tana could do with her tongue. I lay there panting between her lips, letting myself go limp in her grasp (and I probably would have tumbled out, had she not kept my midsection locked in a permanent kiss), feeling that huge, thick mass of muscle squirming all around my thighs and calves. She fished my feet up and rasped over my belly; she let my legs rest along her molars and dragged a hundred ripply taste buds over my cock and balls; I guffawed as she attempted to worm the tip of her tongue between my butt cheeks. Of course she made no progress, but it was so ridiculous to think of and such a stunning sensation as she did it, I let myself lose control and went along with whatever she wanted, whatever she could think of.

It was disappointing, to be awash in so much erotic pleasure, to be ensconced at the pinnacle of a vast, stretching edifice of sincere, unpolished sexuality like Tana Hands presented, in the middle of this wasteland of trash that missed the dumpster and grime that built up as a byproduct. We should be in a bedroom, dammit, or a hotel…

Her balmy mouth sucks on me, increases the suction, begins drawing me within. Her lips creep up over my spine and shoulder blades, pinioning my arms to stick up over my head. Something’s going on: I peer over her chin and down the plains of her rumpled dress shirt, and I see her hand working furiously in the fly of her slacks. Over the roar of traffic just around the corner of the building, I hear very urgent slurping down there. She’s getting close, so I’d better brace myself. It’s always at this point where I could cum if I tried hard, we could cum together, but she gets kind of carried away and−

Her incisors bear down on me. Her lips had me hugged tightly, but now her upper and lower rows of teeth begin to squeeze my shoulders and chest, and then they begin to dig in. They’re not sharp, not from my perspective, but it’s also no problem for a person at her immense size to simply force two rows of blunt objects straight into a little body like mine. Worse, I’m told we taste like lemon-pepper chicken to Normies, and that the proteins of Anthropoles may have slightly addictive properties. I have no idea if Tana has read anything about this. I hope she’s not about to find out on her own.

When she gasps—her lovely voice thundering around me, her sweet breath flowing over me in a flood—it’s my chance to right myself. I kick against her molars and turn myself supine upon her tongue. Now I’m staring straight up those endless nostrils, her huge front teeth arcing directly over my neck. My body shudders, no longer excited about being in here. When her mouth closes again, and reliably it does, her broad lips cinch around my upper body and hold me securely. Sadly, her tongue no longer ravishes the front of my body, instead writhing and rolling beneath my back.

And her teeth dig into my chest again. Her upper lip actually snarls and exposes her incisors up to the gums. Lovely gums, healthy gums, but those teeth are an irresistible force. Banging my little fists against them wouldn’t do anything, but you know what does? With a grunt, I sit up a little and thrust my hand straight up into one of her nostrils, and I seize upon a handful of long, coarse hairs. I twist these in my fist and yank hard.

“Fuck!” She swears all around me, sounding like she has a mouthful of food. It pisses her off but it has the desired effect: an unhappy apology burbles around my half-nude body. She’s more careful, this time, about hugging my torso in her lips and keeping her teeth away, and she wasn’t far from orgasm so she finishes up quickly. Despite the sweet whimpers and gasps that thrum over my skin, I’m feeling less aroused and I just ride out her pleasure.

She pops me out after a minute and grins at me, a crooked and unhinged grin, just like the rest of her. “Break’s over, I guess,” she purrs. “Did you get your cookie?” I explain that no, I did not, I was in mortal terror of being snapped in half by her big stupid teeth. She laughs at me, right at me, couching me in her palm right before her gaping mouth. “I’d never eat you, silly!” And maybe she believes that, but I wonder if it’s a matter of time before she breaks my skin and decides I’m delicious.

She drops me in her blazer pocket and I struggle to dress myself, while she finishes mashing her pussy with fingers like pillars, then assembles her outfit. When we walk around the dumpster I see two people I know having a legitimate smoke break. They notice us, too, and I duck inside her pocket, leaving her to grin like an idiot in their faces. “Nice day for it!” she calls out cheerily, and I hear them grunt in acknowledgment, before we enter the building and, rather than ascend eight flights of stairs, walk straight on into the shopping area on the ground floor of Arlington Trust.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she stage-whispers into her pocket. I look up at her leering eyes, her writhing lips and flashing teeth. I wave her off and try to will myself back into my cubicle.

“Not those,” she says louder, as though thinking to herself. “Not a candy bar, today. Chocolate, though? Nah, that’d be messy.” It’s clear she thinks she’s fooling those around her with her intellectual process, but she hasn’t considered how the fuck she sounds. “We don’t want sugar, do we? Could cause an infection, and it takes forever to lick out. Let’s go for something crispy and savory!” With much ostentation she purchases a bag of BBQ chips and off we go.

I hear her shoes clack against the tiled floor of the shopping arena, then the ding and sliding doors of an elevator. It sounds like we’re alone in there, and before I can thank Goddess for small mercies, Tana’s hand wedges itself forcefully into her tiny chest pocket, her big, clumsy fingertips clenching me and extracting me from my hidey-hole, only to plunk me into her bag of chips.

Goddamn it! Now my suit’s all covered in paprika!

Up, up we go, and Tana’s fingers merrily thrust at me in the chip bag. Her shellacked fingernails bang against me as she seizes chip after chip, and I watch them rise out of the foil sack and disappear into that enormous, goofy mouth of hers. She chews with her mouth open, too, perhaps for my benefit: two rows of glistening white stones gnashing brittle potato chips into fragments, without the least effort on her part, of course. It sickens me, it makes me intensely nervous, and Goddess only knows what she thinks she’s doing by it.

And then her fingertips pinch my leg and hoist me out of the bag. I watch the foil interior wheeling away in space as I rise past her blouse, her sharp chin, and then I’m dangling above her yawning maw.

Tana pauses and lowers me, smiling winningly at me. “Oops! I almost ate you that time! That would’ve been horrible!” She laughs like a little freakin’ girl.

“Yeah, you sound really broken up over it,” I grouse. “Glad you’re so invested in my safety.”

She warns me not to be a sourpuss, and my heart skips a beat at the enormous tongue she pokes out at me. I could use it for a bed, seriously. I had no idea it was so huge. Once more she drops me into the bag and I collide with a bed of potato chips, even cracking a few. I’m surprised at how powerful this makes me feel. Experimentally, I raise a fist and bring it down upon a broad chip: it cracks in half beneath my blow. I nearly laugh at how satisfying this is. Picking up one of the shards, I bring it down over my knee, and it crumbles with slight resistance, and now I do laugh. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Did anyone else know about it? This was the kind of thing someone should’ve shared on Schmal, the Anthropole message board I discovered a couple months ago, like using dragées for target practice. They look like little cannonballs, see, and−

Her fat thumb tip slides over my back, her index finger intrudes down my front, and she hoists me out of the bag again. Goddess damn it, anyway.

But this time she doesn’t catch herself. Her mouth widens happily and her fingers let me go. There’s no time to turn through space: I dive headfirst into her waiting pie-hole, hardly bouncing on her tongue. The lights go out as her lips and jaws close behind me, and I kick my tiny little shoes against the concave rim of teeth. The trick is to not also shove myself into her throat while booting her like this. I hardly like to stick my hands anywhere near her teeth, but I have to brace my fingers against her wisdom teeth and push back so I can kick her.

Tana starts laughing, and this entire damp, muggy cavern booms with her mirth. I’m so glad it’s dark in here and I can’t see her overeager throat working right in front of my head, widening and flexing with more than enough space to suck me down whole. The only thing that can stop me from lashing out at her incisors is how her tongue now mashes me against the roof of her mouth. My feet slip, my fingers lose their hold between her large, blunt teeth, and I’m rubbed vigorously back and forth against her palate by an immensely powerful tongue.

What the fuck is she doing now? I draw enough of a breath to holler: “If this is meant to be erotic, you’re missing the mark!” It’s actually not a good idea to scream in here: I loathe how my tiny voice echoes down her bottomless throat.

Cold air rushes over me and her fingers pinch my legs. She jerks me out and hangs me upside-down before her characteristic rictus. “Silly, I’m cleaning you off! Your suit’s all dirty with delicious barbecue seasoning. You’re so tasty right now, I nearly gobbled you down once and for all!” She waggles her eyebrows at me again. “Would you like that? I know some little guys are into that kind of thing. Is that something you’d like me to do to you sometime?” Her large white teeth bite into her fat bottom lip.

It’s to my credit that I keep a civil tongue in my head in this moment and don’t call this careless, thoughtless giantess all the names she deserved. But I do think I impressed upon her that no, that was entirely outside the realm of my interest, and also, look what she did to my suit.

“I was cleaning you off!” She has the audacity to pout cutely at me, and that’s when I lose my civil tongue. For about two minutes straight.

She doesn’t say anything to that. A woman like Tana, in Tana’s position, doesn’t really have to say a thing to get her point across. I didn’t realize where we were: we’d long left the elevator car and had been heading to my cubicle, when she spins on her heel and races (from my perspective) into the women’s restroom. Once there, she swiftly undoes her pants, tugs down her panties, and stuffs me right between her butt cheeks. She wedges me upright, my legs draping somewhere in her crotch, and then she spreads her cheeks and fits my face almost flush against her tan, wrinkled anus. There’s no time or room for apologies: she simply sticks me in her pert little butt and seals me in with her clothing once more.

What comes next is obvious: she finds reasons to walk around the office, talk to people, strike up small talk, ask job-related questions for an extended period of time. Throughout this, her puckered asshole nudges and swells and occasionally gapes to blast hot, fetid air directly into my face. Artificial BBQ flavoring gives her terrible gas, you see. That doesn’t stop her from eating it, but I should have remembered this before I lost my temper at her.

The next 20 minutes are a tug-of-war, with her releasing torrents of flatulence upon my helpless, restrained body, and me trying to hold my breath long enough for the chance of sucking fresh air through her panties behind me. Sometimes I’m successful, often I’m not. Her buttocks, long and lean like everything else about her, shudder deliriously around me with every step, rattling me badly and leaving me with the sensation that I’m vibrating even when she’s standing still.

The ordeal ends only with being mashed hard between her ass cheeks, nearly the full weight of her body dumped upon me with vengeance. I can’t breathe, I can’t move an inch (one of my inches, even), I just have to be patient and wait to find out what comes next.

It turns out it was my chair she’d taken a seat in. Her long, strong fingers snake all around me and fish me out of her ass crack, then abandon me to the center of my seat cushion. “That’s what your swearing’s like,” Tana says, looming far overhead like a dark and foreboding skyscraper. “It’s like puffs of nasty gas when I’m trying to… partake of… the sweet air of… the beautiful…” She looks around, straining for the analogy.

“Those were hardly little puffs,” I mutter, sitting upright. “Those were geysers of noxious effluvium. Damn it, my jacket’s full of it.” I peel my poor blazer off and try flapping it.

Her protracted arms fold efficiently, and her broad mouth turns down in a ghastly scowl. “Just improve your stinking attitude, little bully.” She turns and exits my cubicle, staggering slightly to avoid running into Marguerite Reynolds, the boss of both of us. The hits just keep playing.

“Is there a problem here, Mr. Malina?” The barrel-chested matriarch in the navy suit leans into my cubicle, crinkling her nose distastefully. “I wasn’t able to find you at your desk earlier, and now it seems as if you have been… indisposed.”

“Nope, no problem,” I shout up at her. I drape my blazer beside me on the enormous seat, trying to make it look casual, like that’s what I was going to do anyway.

From looming over me like a hot-air balloon, she bends at the waist and hovers over me like the same. I don’t notice her immense breasts because of how they bulge against her suit in this position; I notice them because they could easily crush me. “Are you sure, Mr. Malina? Is this an issue for HR? You seem to be unkempt and disheveled, quite a bit below office standards, even standards for Anthropoles.” She’s proud of herself for using the accepted term, that’s clear. Again I assure her everything’s fine, I just need a moment to recombobulate myself. She sniffs disdainfully, mutters a comment about disgusting Tinies, and thunders down the aisle, off into the universe.

I loosen my tie and fluff the chest of my shirt, attempting to off-gas myself, then look up at my desk and the smartphone so far out of reach. Happy Hump Day, everyone.

[Latest installment in the “Lunch Buddies” series on Giantess World]

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