Hungover (Story + Art Preview) (Patreon)

This is an excerpt from an upcoming story I'm working on featuring two very big and very bratty sisters, Sophie and Stacy, who wake up after a long night of partying.

Chapter 1: Waking up 

Beeeep-beeeep-beeeep-beeeep! John’s alarm buzzed sharply from his wristwatch, cutting through his sleep like a knife. He sat up, groggily rubbing at his eyes as he tried to collect himself: he had a headache, his clothes were disheveled, his still tasted alcohol… oh right, the party. He’d been invited to the sorority girl’s big house party last night, and since it was a mixed-size event the term “big” had been quite literal. All the girls were giantesses, and things had quickly gotten more than a little rowdy when they began drinking what seemed like, to him, swimming pools worth of booze. He could vaguely recall being made out with (or, rather, sucked on like a lollipop) by some affectionate brunette last night, but the rest of his memories were foggy. Glancing around John realized he was sitting on a leather couch cushion faaar bigger than he, with a another Tiny or two lying here or there in the distance, one just beginning to pull her shirt back on. John gave an appreciate glance before remembering his important plans for the weekend: shit, that’s why he’d set the alarm! He still had to get home, shower, grab breakfast if he had time, and… John’s thoughts were interrupted as a gigantic form next to him, which he’d first tiredly assumed to be the couch, began to shift. A girlish voice yawned from above, and the massive form (which John was now realizing to be a round mountain of denim-clad hips) slowly tilted overhead, rolling in his direction like a mile-high tsunami of feminine backside. John watched the young woman he had spotted earlier disappear instantaneously with only a surprised yelp, flattened as if she was nothing at all to the much larger giantess. It appeared that his alarm clock had woken up someone besides just himself, and someone far bigger...

Stacy rolled lazily into a sitting position, compressing the leather cushion (and several people) beneath the weight of her broad jiggling hips. There was a tiny muffled shout from beneath her, but Stacy was too busy yawning and wondering how her hair looked. For anyone else in the room, Stacy was a sight to behold: young, shapely, and wearing a button up shirt that was tight, see-through, and undone enough to reveal so much of her frilly black bra that she might have been less provocative had she worn no shirt at all. A small gold necklace disappeared into her deep cleavage, the gold nearly matching her flowing blonde hair that hung down past her shoulders. Not wanting to stand or get up just yet, Stacy looked herself over before complaining, “Ugh, my shoes are missing...” She’d said that to nobody in particular, but they had been expensive shoes, and she was at least going to make her discomfort known to anyone within earshot (especially whoever she was beginning to realize she was definitely sitting on). When her shoes didn’t magically appear out of thin air, Stacy sighed melodramatically and looked around for her twin sister, quickly finding her sprawled upon the other half of the L-shaped couch in the corner of the living room that they had apparently both drunkenly passed out on.

The sofa cushion hissed as Stacy leaned over her sister. They were physically identical: they both had sandy blonde hair, flawless skin, spectacular “assets” (which they were both keenly aware of, though in Stacy’s opinion her tits were just a bit bigger), and so breath-takingly gorgeous that inch-high men practically threw themselves at their feet (at least that’s what Stacy smugly thought to herself whenever she stepped on a few of them). For the moment Sophie was reclined comfortably on the expensive sofa, her gigantic chest rising and falling gently with her breaths. Whereas Stacy had worn a button-up shirt and jeans, Sophie had opted for a different but no-less-provocative choice: a form-fitting blue dress was stretched dangerously tight around her curves. The fabric ended well above Sophie’s shapely legs, hugging her firm round backside snugly, and a strategically placed opening exposed a great deal of underboob to anyone who happened to be beneath her (which, of course, had been the main reason for Sopie to wear it to a mixed-size party). From above Stacy was able to easily spot nearly half a dozen little men arranged haphazardly across the larger girl’s huge plump chest, the faint indentations in Sophie’s dress being the only sign of their existence.

With all the care of a loving sister, Stacy shook Sophie’s shoulder, “Hey stupid, wake up.”

As her huge chest sloshed from side to side within the confines of her top, Sophie blinked her eyes open and immediately shut them with a whine, “Ugh, it’s so briiight!” 

Stacy rolled her eyes, “Yeah, that’s what happens in the morning, when the sun comes up.”

Sophie didn’t bother to retort: she could already feel a migraine coming on. How much did she drink last night? She couldn’t remember: the whole house party was a blur in her mind. Sophie rolled onto one side, letting her chest plop heavily onto the couch with a bounce as she whined again, “Mmgh… my head is pounding.” When nobody immediately offered sympathy (except for several nearly-inaudible voices coming from within her dress), Sophie sat up and arched her back cutely, stretching with a girlish squeak of exertion. Stacy had been watching Sophie’s chest puff out, bulging and shaking against the already taut fabric of the dress, and couldn’t help but comment on all the little wobbling figures, “Have you ever woken up without a Tiny stuck to your fat tits?”

Sophie paused mid-stretch, “Huh?” before looking down and spotting the shapes against her chest. Rather than answer her sister’s question, Sophie just laughed and gave them all a gentle shake, “Haha! Well good morning, my little boob decorations!” It was just too funny that they’d all spent the night smooshed flat against her curvy body all because she hadn’t bothered to free them before passing out. They’d probably woken up to her wobbling around, and covered in her boob sweat.

Stacy commented again, “I’m surprised they didn’t squirm free in the night.” Sophie calmly finished her stretch, smiling at the thought that all it had taken to inconvenience half a dozen grown men was a moment of selfishness from a clueless girl a hundred times their size.

“Oh, my shirt is way too tight for that. I don’t think they can even, like, move right now.” Just to demonstrate, Sophie gave her chest a tiny up-and-down shake, leaving the men to jiggle along with her but otherwise remain right where they were. 

Stacy snorted at her sister’s answer, before a thought occurred to her, “Hey, have you seen my boyfriend?”

Sophie had been entertaining herself by watching everyone bounce around against her breasts, and looked up dumbly, “What?”

Stacy rolled her eyes, “My boyfriend, have you seen him.” Stacy glanced down to her sister’s still wobbling chest, “He better not be in there, Sophie. I swear, if you’ve gotten him stuck in your shirt again...”

Sophie glanced down with only mild concern (not for anyone stuck to her, but just because she didn’t want to get yelled at), “Uh, I don’t think he’s in here…” Sophie gave her chest another unhelpful bounce, sending all the Tinies stuck to her flying back and forth once more. Tired of her sister’s shenanigans, Stacy leaned in to get a closer look herself. 

To be continued...