ashtreegt

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 18/19: "accidental" injury

(part 1)

[ashtreegt]

The Trick to Eating Chocolate

Part 1 of an ongoing story. See the index and content warnings here.

When Joe Piccoli had set out to grab a few things from the pantry that day, he had expected a journey that was identical to the last day’s journey, which had been identical to the journey of the day before that. What he had not expected to encounter was the brazen insult that now stood before him.

“Dear sneak-thief”, read the handwritten cursive on the folded note that stood as high as he was tall, “if you want something to eat, just ask!”

Sneak-thief. Sneak-thief! The audacity of it. Didn’t his new neighbour know that Joe was practically the landlord when squatter’s rights were taken into account? Oh, but that was not the end of it! That tall bastard was not only accusing him of being a thief for taking food from his pantry, but clearly attempting to murder him as well. The note had been set upon a small saucer, and on that plate was a brick of brown gold that the guys down at the docks would kill for: a piece of chocolate about the length of his forearm. Easily worth a fortune, deadly though it often was.

To top it all off, the offering had been placed next to the wall in the kitchen, directly outside of Joe’s favourite entry and exit hole where the pipe from the kitchen radiator entered the floor, as if this human whom he now regrettably had to share air with were saying, I know where you live.

Still, as he circled around the saucer and examined the delicate floral designs that, being hand painted by a giant, left much detail to be desired, he couldn’t help but think that this peace offering had some merit to it. If there were one thing it was almost impossible for a tiny like him to acquire, it was chocolate. Unlike the stray crumbs of chips or the half-eaten pieces of toast or even the stray spillings of sugar that lingered on countertops everywhere, the big people either devoured their chocolate down to the last atom, or kept it sealed away in boxes or wrappings that were a nightmare to get into.

So it was no secret to the borrowers who knew their stuff that, if a human ever wanted to get rid of a tiny infestation quickly and easily, all they had to do was offer up some chocolate that had been laced with rat poison. The poor fools of the world who ate it would be dead within the day. Many tinies who had a death wish would stubbornly partake knowing full well it could kill them; a delicacy was a delicacy after all. Joe was one such individual, and to date he had survived a total of three poisonings. There was a trick to eating chocolate and surviving, Joe had discovered, knowledge that had narrowly cost him his life to acquire.

He pulled out his boot knife and shaved off a piece about the size of his thumb and no larger – that was the first step. The second step was to take exactly one bite of it, and so he did. The third step was to wait for the nausea and the chills to set in. It was an inexact science. An act of playing chicken with death. Sometimes the sickness set in within minutes of the first bite depending on the amount of poison that had been used; other times it set in closer to the third. At most he had a half an hour before it doubled him over. Smarter borrowers than he would wonder why Joe would bother taste testing such a thing at all, but if there were any delicacy greater than poisoned chocolate down at the docks, it was unpoisoned chocolate – the white whale every career borrower dreamed of finding and reselling at least once in their lives.

As he sat on the edge of the saucer and waited, he tried not to let his hopes of finding that white whale get the best of him. There was not a single human in the world, he was certain, who didn’t have ulterior motives. His thoughts turned to the human who had invaded his home. What had given him away? Had the tall bastard found his footprints? Had he dropped something on his travels? Had - god forbid - he been spotted while roaming what had at one point been his house? If you want something to eat, just ask! As though that doctor was the boss of the place!

The clock in the parlour ticked away as the afternoon shadows crept along Victorian green wallpaper that had to be well over 50 years old by now. Motes of dust drifted lazily through the still air, as though they were only half-heartedly bound by the passage of time. Joe, who very much was bound by the passage of time, felt no chills. He took the second bite and continued to think.

A haunting realization hit him much too late: if this man were a doctor, perhaps the poison was more discreet than the average person’s. Maybe Joe was a dead man walking already. Maybe so much as touching the stuff with his bare hands had already marked him for death. His mind cycled back through every instance of cruelty from the big people he had witnessed in his young life, of which there were many: stompings, torchings, crushings, among countless other heinous crimes. If he were already good as dead, what would the doctor in all his humanity do with him afterwards? Would he be dissected? Put on display? Sold to some science museum? Grappling with the sudden regret of his decision, he started weighing his options. Should he induce vomiting? Would it help at all if he did?

In spite of all his worrying, the chills still hadn’t set in. He felt no pain. No tingling. The half hour had passed unceremoniously; if he were going to drop dead, it was taking an awful long time to happen.

That hope rose within him once again, louder now and the hope – well, that was what killed you, Joe reasoned. Either that or it made you rich. In this case, the amount of chocolate he had been left with would easily be enough to buy himself a place on the housing list of his local Tiny Town, so that he could have the privilege of waiting three years to once again have a home all to himself... provided he could remain financially stable enough to pay the rent.

If this was the Canadian dream, he didn’t want to know what the American tinies were getting up to.

Dead man or not, as the time kept ticking by the point came where he had to know for certain: he had to take bite number three. Every borrower had their respective borrowing “style,” as those in the trade called it, and his style just happened to involve fucking around and finding out. They didn’t call him Cast-iron Joe for nothing, he supposed.

His frustration grew as the clock kept ticking, and the shadows kept creeping, and the motes kept drifting, and all the while he remained stubbornly alive after three bites of dubiously poisoned chocolate; an aliveness that raised a question that vexed him:

Why?

Why would this doctor be nice to him? Why would he offer him food? Why write to him? Why do any of this? He began to feel dirty, somehow. Disgusted with himself. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin and run far away from this house and this kind man who would call him a sneak-thief but feed him a delicacy nonetheless without even bothering to try to kill him with it. Joe knew that even eating the food that had been left out for him was the sort of thing the guys at the docks would call “pet behaviour” – but what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them, and the less they knew, the richer he would be in the long run.

 He took out his knife and carved off another piece, a larger one this time, taking bite number four, then five, until he was passively munching on it as if it were any other afternoon snack. With each bite and each passing minute the looming threat of death grew weaker and weaker, until-

-the porch steps creaked under the human’s heavy footsteps and a key scraped the lock from down the hallway, snapping Joe back to attention. Fear paralyzed him, as though he were a boy about to be caught misbehaving by his father. The chime of the clock striking six rang in his ears as if the house itself had issued its condemnation, causing all thought to leave him. Then a newer, larger shadow crept along the house’s walls, closer and closer to where Joe stood. Even the motes seemed to scatter in a frenzy as the human, with all his thumping and bumping and banging and clunking, disturbed the quiet peace of what had once been Joe’s sanctuary. Joe scattered along with them, skidding into the space between the floor and the pipe – but not before taking the brick of chocolate along with him.

In the safety of the floorboards, clutching his prize as it slowly melted into the sleeves of his jacket, he dared not move a muscle as the footsteps drew closer and closer, until they shook the wood above and hammered in his very head. He could faintly see the wooden slats shift under the human’s weight as the doctor knelt down to inspect what remained of his offering.

Through the floorboards, Joe could hear the incredulous doctor let out a low chuckle that somehow only managed to add further insult, for it was not unlike the way an adult would chuckle at a small child. Against his better judgment, Joe crept closer to the light above, pulled by that morbid curiosity, that lingering why. He only ever saw the doctor in glimpses, and each time it had been involuntary, but now he couldn’t help but find himself drawn back to the light above like a man in search of forbidden knowledge.

As he craned his neck up from his place in the darkness, Joe could just make out the blur of the human’s hands before he was blinded by the spark-and-burn of a struck match and the darkness was no more. His dumbstruck gaze was met with a single, gigantic eyeball peering at him from behind the flame, the orange light dancing across its bands of amber-brown colour. The eye blinked and narrowed, then widened into a shocked expression that matched Joe’s own.

Primordial fear overtook him at the sight. He fell back in shock, scrambled to his feet, and sprinted into the darkness. As he ran, the voice of the doctor, omnipresent as the voice of a god rang through him:

“Wait, don’t run! Come back!”

The floorboards shook again in what Joe could only imagine were the doctor’s attempts to pull the floor open and grab him. He didn’t know for certain what the man’s motives were and he didn’t care: he had escaped with his life and five thousand scraps’ worth of unpoisoned chocolate. The rest, Joe decided, as exhaustion forced him to come to a halt all the way across the other side of the house, he would figure out tomorrow.

Oh, how he wished this day had been a normal day like any other. Something told him tomorrow would be even worse.

If you've read this far, you may want to check out the next part here! Thank you so much for taking interest in my work.

[ashtreegt]

can veni please wear the little hat

for sureeee, im putting my best team on the job

[ashtreegt]

btw I'm totally fine with NSFW size blogs reblogging my stuff 👍 im an adult and there are some kink undertones in some of my work, and I think that the nsfw side of g/t is an important aspect of the community :-3

that being said I ask that kink stuff not be added onto my art in reblogs/tags (ie. sexualizing characters, expanding scenario to include kink, etc) bc I'm not comfortable with most of my ocs being hijacked for fetish content

THX 💋

[ashtreegt]

Where'd your little guy get his clothes?

his Other roommate is more niceys and got really into doll clothing and using doll clothes patterns to make veni clothes once he saw what was going on and the crap clothes he had :-) he was wearing like a weirdly stitched long "shirt" freak#2 had stitched together quickly and quite begrudgingly (he doesnt sew...) just so veni wouldnt be ass naked for long. cause that'd be weird for everyone. hes sad he cant wear his regular clothes, hes happy that he can wear clothes again, he gets mad when they try to dress him up like a doll for fun. its a whole thing!!!!

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 18/19 will be posted tomorrow (I keep biting off more than I can chew and then leaving my sketches at work -_-

[ashtreegt]

[ashtreegt]

A Drop of Honey

Thanks to @ashtreegt again for the #GTJuly2025 prompts!

Here's #18 - Accidental Injury

Again, this is an absolutely real restaurant in NYC that is, sadly, not g/t related. I wish they sold t-shirts and mugs.

The first time I imagined there were giants involved, but this time I went the other way (hence the different picture lol). Zoey, Tyler, and Jennifer return.

Content warning: Adult themes, language, mouthplay, injury, fear and mentions of death and hints at vore.

***

Zoey grabbed the top of the knob with both hands and pulled with all of her might. It clicked to the right and she kept pulling, several more clicks followed until she let go with a huff. When she could afford it, she really needed to get a model with touch controls. 

She wondered if they made one with a tiny remote.

But the oven temperature was set now, at least.

“There…” she said, pleased with herself, and made her way back to the prep countertop.

She sat down on the digital scale amongst a sea of trays with various shapes of prepared dough ready for the, now, pre-heating oven. Her weight barely registered on the scale, just a few grams. Zoey reached down and picked up her coffee, taking a much needed sip.

Her “mug” was actually a stainless steel utensil holder from a miniature kitchen set meant for dolls, sold at an overpriced home furnishing store. But at only 4 inches tall, it worked perfectly well as a very large cup. It was her second one of the morning, she was dragging.

She saw on the wall clock that it was nearly 5 am. Normally, it was the slow time in the kitchen at her sandwich shop. Everything, from fresh bread to pastries, would be done and just being set out for the morning rush. 

But, normally, Jennifer would have prepared everything, not Zoey. Zoey would only go and add finishing touches to make it obvious her tiny little hands had played a role. Pressing her hand prints into toppings or crimping edges in a way that only someone her size could. The novelty of her size as a tiny baker is what made them sell so well.

As she tended to her coffee, going through her mental checklist, the bell hanging over the front door dinged. Zoey could hear the sound of keys all the way back in the kitchen. She had no idea why Jennifer had so many keys or how she ever kept track of which was which. Zoey swore Jennifer somehow had a key for every door in the city.

She was late for her shift, which was unlike her. It had made the morning extremely challenging for Zoey, who was a stickler for staying on schedule. There were some accommodations for someone her size in the kitchen, but there really was not that much she could actually do. 

The ideas, recipes, and overall vibe was hers but the labor was almost entirely Jennifer. Making food for regular sized humans was a lot of work, and sadly she could only get so far by herself. She certainly couldn’t make as much of it as fast as Jennifer could, so if she was going to run a business she needed her normal sized hands.

Zoey had inherited the shop from her father. His real name was Tony, but his nickname was “Tiny.” He thought it made for a funny play on words. It had taken a lot of effort by Zoey to turn it into what it was now. Other than the name, which worked well for branding purposes, everything else was completely changed.

Her dad’s old sub sandwich joint, frequented primarily by construction workers, had transformed into a chic modern bakery and coffee shop, now frequented by all sorts. Though a lot of construction workers still came in and found something out of habit.

For some reason, normal sized people adored the idea of a tiny baker. Zoey didn’t know any others, so she had a niche. The recent press didn’t hurt either. They kept one photo, from the most recent article, framed up front next to the register. In the picture, Zoey was on display with her hands raised over her head, standing on top of a muffin far larger than her. It was the photographer’s idea.

She didn’t mind catering exclusively to bigger people.

But if Zoey had a nickel for every time someone made a Pillsbury Doughboy joke or tried to poke her in the stomach like him, she could have retired by now. She could tell it was a struggle for some of her regulars to abstain every time they came in.

Zoey had to have some more coffee. She would have to be out front for opening and needed to be “on.”

She hoped most of her customers came for her cooking, but she worried sometimes that they really only came to fulfill some sort of childhood fantasy. While some tinies like her would actually rent themselves out as living toys, Zoey had never considered it. The pay was tremendous, but it was also tremendously dangerous.

All it took was for some 4 year old to squeeze too hard and it was lights out.

She knew that seeing all four inches of her at the register, custom apron and all, was enough for most. It was part of the appeal. People never used to see her father. At his sub shop, the only trace of him was the sound of softly whispered cursing through the pickup window. He was almost always yelling at his cook of 25 years, who largely ignored him and went about his business.

It wasn’t hard to do when the person yelling was the size of a finger.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” Jennifer begged for forgiveness.

“My date was a no show! Can you believe that? The fucking nerve, but I it turned around into a girl’s night. I have such a headache and I overslept my alarm,” the Jennifer explained while washing her hands and putting on her own apron. 

Even though they were nearly the same age they couldn’t be more different. For a start, Jennifer was blond and 5’7” but, more importantly, she lived much more like a 24 year old should be living. Zoey envied her more because of that than her hugeness. 

For someone so small, Zoey had a lot of big responsibilities. Like Jennifer’s paycheck. When the shop had closed, the day still wasn’t done for Zoey. There were suppliers to correspond with, bills to pay, press or other inquiries like catering orders, and all kinds of administrivia.

She got a lot of orders for small children's birthday parties. She even had a whole line of "fairy cakes" that kept her shop in the black. She almost thought of only doing that sometimes. But the extra work was a lot. It took forever when Zoey had to step from key to key on the laptop in her back office.

“I’m sorry that sucks. But it’s ok. I’ve just been running a little bit behind without you. Can you…”

“On it boss!” Jennifer cut Zoey off and rushed around, figuring out what needed tending.

She checked on each tray one by one, then slipped them into their respective racks in the two side-by-side industrial ovens. As she watched the towering blond work at a frenzied speed compared to Zoey, a sense of relief washed over her. If Jennifer had arrived even a few minutes later, they would have been in a real bind.

At Zoey’s size, there was no way she could have gotten such huge trays into the ovens. How could she even begin to try? Just getting the dough rolled and shaped had taken her well over two hours. Jennifer usually finished it in 30 minutes or less. She was so much faster at everything in the kitchen.

Plus, Zoey was worn out from the full body workout that it took to accomplish by herself. She thought of the people who would drop by in trendy workout clothes or yoga gear. If they only knew what a real workout looked like.

“You know it’s delivery day,” Jennifer teased at her tiny employer, drawing out the syllables in a sing-songy voice while she poured herself a cup of coffee. Jennifer's cup was big enough that Zoey could have used it as a plunge pool.

“Stop,” Zoey warned very unseriously, but felt herself getting flustered at the reminder.

“Oh come on! You know he has a BIG crush on you…”

“Stop. How would that even work?” Zoey set her coffee down, noticing how sticky her hands felt.

Jennifer looked put on the spot, her features scrunched up in thought for a moment.

“I mean I can definitely see how it could work. No matter the size if you just touch any guy’s…” “Seriously. Stop! Not. Work. Appropriate!” Zoey cut her off, emphasizing each word.

Jennifer held up her hands in capitulation, her coffee in one of them.

“I’m just saying if a guy the size of this building had a crush on me…I know I wouldn’t get hung up about what to do next. I mean…speaking of hung if he...” Jennifer continued speaking slightly softer under her breath.

“Get your huge ass up front and set up!” Zoey demanded, channeling her dad, her cheeks red from the hint. “Aye aye cap’n! I’ll let you keep watch for Moby Dick,” Jennifer finally said after pausing for a moment, getting one last tease in, saluting Zoey with her coffee.

Zoey sighed at the huge blond. It was too early and she was already too tired for this. She was going to say something else, but Jennifer was already out of the kitchen in a few booming steps. Her gait was unreal compared to Zoey.

Jennifer opened the cash register in a rattle of shuffling of coins, then she started setting up chairs and tables in a loud racket. The front came to life with every passing moment of Jennifer's attention.

She’s always so freaking loud, Zoey thought but knew she was wrong. Zoey was just small, very very small. She checked the clock. He’d be there any minute.

Zoey hopped off the prep counter down to the floor then scrambled up the leg of another counter, this time next to the sink. She reached the top and walked to the very tiny spout made just for people her size, next to the regular sized faucet.

Her hands, and the rest of her, was so sticky from all that dough. Zoey hated being sticky.

Zoey shifted uncomfortably as she washed her hands, again, thinking about Tyler, again. She knew he had a crush on her. It was hard not to notice it when every look and movement on his face was so magnified. 

Talking to normal sized people, for Zoey, must be what a movie theater's screen was to them, every detail and minute expression was impossible to miss at such a scale.

He was tall, even compared to every other towering figure around Zoey. His job was very physical and it showed. She liked how substantial he looked, solid. Although, even the scrawniest person could toss Zoey around without much effort. She knew how strong Tyler was from his deliveries. She shivered.

Zoey sat down on a dry sponge in a ledge on the far corner of the sink, looking over at the back door where he usually came in, still daydreaming. But despite that size and strength, he had a sort of grace to him. He had mentioned early on, when he started coming to the shop, that he only did this job because it gave him time to go to gigs with his band. He played the guitar. She thought about his fingers and how dextrous they must be. Guitar strings were so small and thin afterall…

She sat on the sponge for several moments, lost in her thoughts about him, when she gazed around the kitchen. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t seen the almonds she used as a topping for her honey glazed croissants. Then she spotted them.

“Damn it. That doesn’t go up there…” Zoey sighed and got up, making her way across the counters to the shelf.

Usually, if Zoey needed something from the shelves she preferred to just ask Jennifer. But she didn’t want to get teased even more about Tyler. She could wait. She could wait until Tyler had come and gone. Then she could have Jennifer retrieve it. It could wait, but she felt antsy and behind schedule. She couldn’t help herself. She’d have to use the chute.

Along one side of every shelf, stretching from the countertops to the ceiling, Zoey had a chute installed so she could push or pull smaller things into it. They'd fall down it like a slide and land onto a pad at the bottom. It worked fairly well.

She climbed up the little cutouts on the chute's side, forming ladder steps, up to the shelf. She ntended to push the almonds down to the countertop, even though it wasn't entirely necessary.

Zoey reached the shelf and the jar. She pushed. Her hands were too slick and they slid across the glass. She lost her balance and fell off the edge.

Normally, Zoey could fall from pretty high up with no problem. She weighed almost nothing. She would have welcomed landing on the counter.

Instead, she dropped down over the large honey pot that had been placed out the night before, ready to drizzle all over the croissants for the glaze. Zoey tried to move in the air, changing her fall’s direction so she’d land on her feet somewhere else.

But she was off and banged herself against the sharp inner lip of the large, ceramic honey pot. She yelped in pain and landed in the honey with a sickening thud. She didn’t sink, at first, and tried pulling her limbs free, trying to escape.

Unsurprisingly, the honey stuck to her, thick and heavy. She struggled even more but it was impossible. She was well and truly stuck, sinking very slowly.

The back door opened with a bang, and Tyler backed inside with a dolly rolling in tow.

“Hey, hey, hey ladies, good morning!” Tyler grunted, lifting his dolly stacked with heavy boxes over the small ledge into the kitchen.

Tyler set the dolly down with a clang and turned around, but the kitchen was empty. That was odd. Zoey was always back here at this hour before opening. He knew she dreaded the show she’d have to put on, something any service worker could relate to, but her gimmick could be especially challenging.

She smiled and made small talk with everyone if they wanted. Not that tinies were rare or anything, but Zoey put on a facade for people. Tyler thought it was goofy but people ate it up. He liked the real her, and her stop was the highlight of his morning.

He took out his ear buds and slipped them into his shirt pocket, still looking for Zoey.

Zoey spotted him and tried to shout but her mouth filled with honey as she tried. She had to tread at the surface to get clear enough to shout. She tried to force her legs down and make her upper body go the opposite way. But it was hard, everything hurt from hitting the sharp edge of the pot. And she was so tired already.

“Zee? You in here?” 

Through the distortion caused by the honey dripping down her head, Zoey saw him. Tyler's towering figure was in the middle of the kitchen looking around, looking for her. She had to get his attention. She was losing out to the honey.

Tyler scanned the countertops and ledges but he couldn’t spot her. He saw a crumpled up towel on one counter and slowly lifted it, peeking under. Nothing.

“Where are you…” Tyler's eyes focused trying to spot movement somewhere in the large space. “TYLER!” Zoey shouted in his direction from the honey pot.

He thought he heard something, it sounded like his name.

“TYLER!” 

He heard it again. Definitely his name but super quiet. If he hadn’t taken out his ear buds he would have never heard it.

“Zee?”

Tyler strained to listen for a response, scanning the kitchen again, trying to find the source.

“TYLER! HONEY!!! HELP!!!”

Zoey shouted for all her worth with great difficulty. The honey was so thick and sweet, but it was strangely burning. It was stinging. She swallowed far more than she wanted to, by accident, trying to keep her head above the surface of it. She coughed and gagged as she struggled to keep her head out of it.

Her movements seemed to be making it worse. She felt herself sinking deeper. Faster. She was going to die in her own kitchen.

Tyler stepped gingerly towards the sound, looking down over the countertops like a helicopter surveying the city. Then he saw her, trapped and sinking.

“Oh shit! Zee!” he yelped.

He reached down into the pot and closed two fingers around her torso, pulling her up. He felt the honey pulling back but Tyler won. Zoey gasped in Tyler’s clutches as she was lifted up and out into the air, coughing hard. She was absolutely covered in honey, layers upon layers of it forming a dense aura over her.

“Shit, shit, shit, hold on!” Tyler exclaimed.

The next thing Zoey knew, it was very dark and warm. There was an echo and she felt movement all around her. 

Am I…Zoey thought, then she realized it. 

She was in Tyler’s mouth.

She felt herself get pressed up against the roof of his mouth by his powerful tongue muscle. It was wider and thicker than her whole body. She couldn’t move at all against it. He kept her pressed up against the soft, firm roof of his mouth.

Her hands brushed against the inside of his teeth and felt how smooth they were, even with the honey covering her. She didn’t know whether she was pleased or horrified by this sudden development.

Then she felt a pulling, and somehow it got even wetter. He was sucking the honey off of her.

Oh god no, Zoey cried in her head, honey and Tyler’s saliva swirling all around her.

But it was working, Tyler’s efforts made the honey lessen with every powerful woosh down his throat. For a moment, she felt a tightening in her chest that he’d miscalculate, that she’d end up going down too.

Getting swallowed by him wouldn’t be the worst way to die compared to drowning in honey in her own kitchen. Or was it?

After a few seconds, the honey was gone, but Tyler kept sucking on her like a lollipop. He made faster, shorter swallows as his jaw moved around slightly repositioning her for space to swallow.

He was taking great care to clean her. Zoey would appreciate the consideration if she wasn't overwhelmed by it. As the honey disappeared into his stomach, the sucking started to feel good. Really good. She had a whole new problem now.

She tried flailing, hoping it’d get him to stop. Her frantic efforts were rewarded and she felt the tongue relax. It dropped down, making her fall on top of it at the bottom of his mouth. He gently, briefly probed her with it. The tip ran across her face and she gasped.

Oh god he has to stop, Zoey pleaded in her head, pressing against the slimy pebbled surface of it with both hands.

Suddenly, the was light. Zoey toppled out of Tyler’s mouth onto his waiting hand. Without meaning to, she flipped in the air as she fell the short distance, landing on her back against his palm. She looked up, totally drenched, and saw his worried face staring down at her intensely.

“Zee?! Are you ok? I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t think you could breathe…”

Very, very slowly, Zoey raised one hand and gave him a thumbs up. Her arm fell to her side, sore, hurt, and exhausted. Her back was killing her from hitting the pot's lip as she fell.

“Oh! Is this sriracha honey?! That’s a cool change...Zee?” Tyler asked, very casually for what had just happened, down at the panting woman sprawled out in his palm.

Sriracha? No wonder it burned, Zoey thought unable to speak or move after the morning she'd had. She was going to have to call in "sick" for her usual routine this morning, when she could talk.

“Thar she blows...” Jennifer exclaimed in a pirate accent then chuckled, leaning against the kitchen's doorframe.

She stared at them with a huge grin across her face.

Tyler looked confused.

Zoey was going to kill her.

***

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 17: cutthroat

(the more I make stuff based on my lifelong g/t fixation the more I see myself creating patterns in stories exploring power in tinies. where does power come from, in someone that small? what power could they have over human beings?)

[ashtreegt]

A Very Tall Order

I normally post my writing on @sizebrained but since this is a one off, maybe, without any of my 2 story universes at the moment I thought I'd drop it here.

Thanks to @ashtreegt for the #GTJuly2025 prompt

Here's #16 - POV

So this is real restaurant, and a great place, in NYC that is sadly not g/t related...but what if it was...

***

It had been an especially busy day for Zoey's shift. She'd already filled nearly double what she usually did. It figured with all of the construction going on after the incident last week.

What were the odds of several new giants appearing on the same day, and indoors no less. Four high rises had toppled over from it with some pretty big casualties. Those poor giants, such a terrible way to come into their new bodies. Crushing so many people by accident.

The day had been so busy that Zoey left the garage door, that made up one whole side of her corner shop, wide open. Giants had been coming and going all morning, she might as well save herself the effort.

But this last order was ridiculous, she'd never made that much before for a single order. It didn't even fit on the loading platform. She had to use the loading dock. Zoey called the number just to confirm that it wasn't an error.

When she was finally done with it, which had been confirmed as genuine and not a mistake, she walked outside for a cigarette in the first lull of the day.

The heavy, steady footfalls of a giant approaching shook the sidewalk, bumping Zoey off her resting spot leaning against the outside cornerstone. She recognized the pattern. It was one of her regulars.

Zoey took a deep puff and blew out right as the giant rounded the corner into view.

After they turned, each giant got their own designation number from the government. Zoey's shop was primarily subsidized by the government as an approved vendor for them. The giant smiled seeing Zoey's outline, the top of her head not even reaching midway up the giant's calf.

It was No. 783 but Zoey called her by her before name, Jennifer.

She was nearly 7 stories tall, blond, and very friendly compared to a lot of others who had turned. They mainly kept to themselves and seemed almost scared of people their former sizes.

"Hey Zee! Is my order ready?"

Zoey's outstretched thumb pointed behind her at the open garage door. A paper wrapped sandwich, the size of several king sized mattresses side by side, was laying on its platform ready for pickup.

"Thanks. Mind if I eat here?"

Zoey held her half-finished cigarette between her lips and gave a deep bow with her arms outstretched towards the sidewalk. Gesturing upwards, be my guest.

Jennifer checked every careful step before she took it. She had to be at her size or it'd be a report. Or worse real harm and damage to people and property.

She looked down behind her and slowly squatted down until her butt landed on the concrete, her back was resting up against the building. The giant was on the other side of the garage door from Zoey. She reached inside and picked up her sandwich the way she might have gotten letters out of a mailbox back when she was normal sized.

Zoey finished her cigarette and put it in the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can. Jennifer unwrapped the top half of the sandwich and took a huge bite chewing while she talked, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as if that could hide it at her scale.

"Sorry I'm starving," the building sized blonde started before swallowing what was in her mouth.

"There's been so much work this week I've been going since dawn. How's your day going? Busy I bet?"

Zoey was about to nod and realized the futility of it. There was no way Jennifer would be able to see from up there. Zoey cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up instead.

"Okay but busy! I had to make this ridiculous order that was so big it's out back in the loading dock."

Jennifer nodded, taking another bite.

"I bet it's for him. Have you heard about the new one?"

"New what?!"

"You haven't heard? The new giant that did most of the damage last week. I've been busting my ass all day because of him. He's HUGE!"

Zoey lowered her hands from her face. The idea of someone Jennifer's size calling something else huge like that made Zoey's heart jump.

She wondered just how big this new giant must be and suddenly felt hot. Ever since people started getting turned, Zoey found herself inexplicably and hopelessly obsessed with them. It was why she'd opened up the shop in the first place.

Not many people get to live their innermost dreams. But here Zoey was, day in and day out surrounded by giants. But HUGE? Zoey needed to know like she needed water.

No one was sure how or why the turning happened. There didn't seem to be any pattern or predictability to it. One day someone was normal, the next day they couldn't fit in their house or worse. Zoey hoped it never happened to her.

She hoped that it happened to literally everyone else and left her as the sole remaining human sized person in a world filled with giants.

Then it dawned on her, the ridiculous order. It had to be for him and she knew Jennifer was right. He was huge...

The first thing Zoey noticed wasn't the ground shaking her where she stood in a far different way than Jennifer's steps had just done. It was how long each one lasted, much longer than Jennifer's had. It must have been him and he must have been so heavy.

Another step.

This time Zoey did tumble to the ground. As she pushed up with her arms starting to get up, she felt lifted up into the air. She saw the ground racing away from her as she got higher and higher.

But it was over almost as soon as it started. She found herself plopped into a dirty, sweaty palm the size of her delivery van. Jennifer's face was just next to her like the facade of the building she was leaning against. She looked worried but somehow still managed to take another bite from the sandwich in her other hand.

"Geez are you okay? That's gotta be him. I didn't want him to step on you or anything by accident. You'd better stay there for now till he's gone." "...Th...Th...Thanks," Zoey shouted shakily up to Jennifer from the vastly larger woman's hand.

"So big..."

Zoey stumbled and stuttered with her words. Being held by Jennifer wasn't helping either. She'd only been in a giant's hands a few times. Technically it was illegal, but so was double parking. Zoey would gladly pay a ticket for this.

She looked down at Jennifer's palm and ran her own hand across the ridges and swirls of it in awe. She recognized the same patterns from her own, but seeing them up close at this size was unreal.

While Zoey was staring down, everything suddenly got darker. It was a shadow, his shadow.

"Hey Tyler!"

It couldn't be...Zoey thought, holding her breath

Jennifer had finished her sandwich and crumbled up the wrapper with one hand. She very carefully placed it down on the corner for the trash collectors. That amount of thick paper sheeting balled up was taller than the trash can that Zoey had put out her cigarette in.

Jennifer stood up, her palm outstretched with Zoey as a passenger. She had to crane her own massive neck to look up at the figure blocking out the sun. This section of town had much smaller buildings than others, but he stood over all of them.

Jennifer didn't even come up to his waist.

"I know it might be hard to see from up there but meet Zoey. She's really cool and owns the sandwich shop," Jennifer raised a foot and pointed at the corner shop with it, then set it back down lightly.

"Zoey meet the newest and biggest giant, Tyler..."

"Oh my god..."

Zoey was right, it was him. Tyler. The delivery truck driver from one of her suppliers who she'd flirted with for years. She was expecting to see him last week but a totally new driver showed up who only said Tyler was "sick." Now she knew with what.

And huge didn't begin to describe him.

The titanic figure bent down slowly on one knee in front of Jennifer then bent his torso down even further towards her hand. He was still taller than Jennifer.

Zoey couldn't breathe. She stayed frozen in place as his face loomed larger and larger the closer it got to her.

It was so entirely different from someone Jennifer's size. Even as Zoey was being held in Jennifer's hand, seeing Tyler now made her feel like a toy.

She loved it. She more than loved it.

"Hey Zoey how've you been? Uh sorry I missed you last week but I'm glad you weren't honestly. I would have hated for you to get hurt when this happened..."

"I'm...You're...Uh..." "You look nice today. Shame I can't bum a cigarette. Maybe you could light the pack on fire and just waft it in my direction for me?"

Jennifer giggled at his suggestion. Zoey stayed silent staring like she'd seen a dinosaur. But Tyler was way bigger.

His voice was so impossibly loud and deep. Fog horns would be quiet compared to him. Every syllable wracked her body from the force of his casual small talk. Small talk...she thought.

She was sure her ears would be ringing after this.

"You're Order 979?"

"What? Sorry I can't..."

"She asked if you're order 979?" Jennifer repeated like a translator on Zoey's behalf.

At Zoey's size, and Tyler's size now, there was no way he'd hear her even if she shouted. And she didn't have a bullhorn handy.

"He hasn't gotten a receiver yet. So smaller folks like me have to help out till they modify one and install it in his ear," Jennifer explained.

"Oh yeah that's my new. Jen what's it called?"

"Your GDN - Giant Designation Number you big dummy. It's not that hard to memorize!"

Tyler looked embarrassed saying, "Right 979. That's me I guess. But could you still call me Tyler? I asked if I could get all my food here since I'm familiar with the area and thought I'd be less likely to cause any more damage. And it's nice to see you as always Zee."

"Wait, you know each other?!" Jennifer looked shocked.

Then Jennifer noticed the tiny shop owner's face in her hand, the look on it was very telling.

"I can get his private number for you when he gets it if you want girl," Jennifer tried whispering conspiratorially to Zoey.

"Uh yeah, I want...his..." Zoey petered off, not blinking out of fear she'd miss a millisecond of soaking him in.

"What?" Tyler asked, smiling down at the pair.

"She said your order is out back on the loading dock?"

"Oh I know where that is, mind if I have it here with you two? Would you mind helping me out so I can talk to Zee for a little? If it's too awkward..." "No not at all—I'm happy to help, Zee is the best isn't she? I wish I could do my hair like hers."

Zoey sat in Jennifer's hand feeling like she was a favorite toy not a person with these two. She was utterly inconsequential, almost an idea at her size especially compared to Tyler. Yet here was Jennifer holding her and being her wing woman, hyping her up. And Tyler, even though he was almost squinting to see her, staring right at her with that cute smile of his.

Being the object of attention for such huge beings was too much. Zoey felt like she was melting.

"Yeah her hair's great. So is everything else. One sec I'll be right back and then we can talk some more while I eat, I'm starving."

Tyler stood back up to his full height again covering them both with his shadow. He only needed to take half a step to get to the loading dock now. Zoey stared up at him, her whole body was shaking and her mouth was open, marveling at him.

He reached down into the loading dock, his hand was the same size now as his old truck had been. Maybe even a little larger. He held it flat and pretended it was the truck. He backed his hand up making the sound in his head as he did then picked up his sandwich.

To think he used to like delivering here, not only for Zoey, but because it had so much space to back up the truck seemed crazy to him now. His point of view was so off now, he had gotten used to the scale of things after his turning rather quickly. He felt oddly like a kid again in his bedroom full of little action figures and cars.

He was just thankful he hadn't gotten so big that the city looked like the diorama from the old world's fair on display at the Queens Museum.

While he was distracted, Jennifer sat back down and brought Zoey up to her face. Jennifer's brown eyes, each one the size of Zoey's torso, looked at the little human in her grasp, searching for more details about her and Tyler. Except the only thing Jennifer noticed was that Zoey looked like she was having a heart attack.

"I told you he was huge. Are you alright?"

Zoey was panting, overwhelmed by not only the new giant's size but that it was Tyler. Tyler of all people. She was definitely melting.

"Zee?"

***

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 16: POV

(when i was a kid i used to lay in bed with a flashlight on my chest and hold my hand over it. it would make it look like a giant hand reaching down from the sky, and i would imagine it picking me up and taking me away)

[ashtreegt]

a conversation held aboard the Maelstrom

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 15: trapped

(a nightmare, part one)

[ashtreegt]

Do Not bureaucracy the jotun

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 15: trapped

(a nightmare, part one)

[ashtreegt]

G/t july

day 15: Trapped

*You were caught*

Thank you so much for the prompts list: @ashtreegt 🌿

[ashtreegt]

g/t july day 14 is gonna be late </3 SORRY 🤞