The Brob Girl Ch 40: Good News & The Decision To Be Made! (Final)

(Abbie)

I was still riding the high of passing my handling test, and honestly, nothing could ruin my mood. Well, almost nothing. Right now, I was too busy playing with the tiny speck of a boy nestled between my boobs to worry about much else.

Michael had stopped squirming at this point, probably realizing resistance was futile. Every now and then, I'd gently press my breasts together, trapping him in a soft embrace before letting up just enough for him to move again. His tiny little voice protested at first, but I could tell he was laughing too.

"You having fun down there, little guy?" I teased, shifting slightly so the movement jostled him just enough to remind him how little control he had in this situation.

Monica, meanwhile, was actually eating. Unlike me, she wasn't preoccupied with tormenting a tiny man stuck in her cleavage. She glanced up from her bowl of gumbo, raising an eyebrow. "You know, most people eat their food, not play with it."

"He's not food," I shot back, sticking out my tongue. "He's just... a very bad little Lilli who needs to learn a lesson."

Michael made a noise that I think was supposed to be a protest, but considering he was half-smothered, it came out more like a muffled squeak.

After a few more minutes of messing with him, I finally decided to set him free. Reaching between my breasts with my index finger, I carefully scraped him off my skin, peeling him away from the slight sheen of sweat that had glued him there.

I held him up to my eye, grinning. "That should teach you to stop jumping into massive women's chests from now on."

Michael, looking both exhausted and amused, gave me a sheepish smile. "Yeah, yeah, I promise not to do it again."

There was a pause.

"Maybe..." he muttered under his breath.

Oh-ho, so that's how it is.

I narrowed my eyes playfully, about to give him another round of "Abbie's Totally Responsible Handling Skills" when Monica's phone rang, cutting the moment short.

Both Michael and I turned our attention to her.

Monica sat up straighter, her expression shifting from relaxed to serious as she answered. "Yeah? ...Uh-huh... Wait, really? ...No way. That's amazing."

I blinked, watching as her lips slowly curled into a big, satisfied smile. Whatever she was hearing, it was good news.

After a few more moments, she hung up, exhaling like she had been holding in a secret. She turned to us, eyes shining.

"Well, Michael," she said, "I had a friend looking into your case, and guess what? They're gonna be able to open the Brob Portal to Lilliput."

My heart sank.

Monica was still smiling—until she saw my face.

I wasn't smiling. Not even close.

I turned my gaze downward, my eyes landing on the tiny Lilli still sitting on my finger. He hadn't said anything yet.

Monica sighed, scooting a little closer. "Abbie... I get it. But this isn't his world. It'd probably be best for him to go home."

"Yeah..." I muttered, though I wasn't sure I really meant it.

Monica turned her attention to the little guy in my palm. "Michael, what do you want to do?"

***

(Trish)

I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face in frustration as I paced back and forth in front of my father's massive desk.

"It's not fair," I muttered, clenching my jaw. "It's just not fair."

From his seat behind the grand oak desk, my father exhaled heavily, clearly tired of hearing this same complaint for the millionth time. He leaned back in his leather chair, adjusting his cuffs like he had something better to do.

"Trish," he said in that calm, measured voice of his. "The Brob Lottery happened months ago. It's time to move on."

I slammed my hands against his desk, making a few of his expensive little trinkets rattle.

"Move on? Move on?!" I repeated, my voice rising. "You taught me, Dad. You always taught me that we're supposed to be the best! That it's in our blood to be on top! How the hell am I supposed to be the best if I'm just... stuck down here?!"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he steepled his fingers together, considering me carefully. That slow, deliberate way he always did when he was about to say something important.

Finally, he stood up, adjusting the lapels of his suit before walking around the desk to stand in front of me. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and then—he smiled.

A small, knowing smile.

"I have to say, Trish... I'm proud of you."

I blinked. That... was unexpected.

He rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You're not like the others. You don't settle. You don't accept losing. And because of that..." His smile widened ever so slightly. "I might just have a way to get you what you want."

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat.

"You mean—"

He nodded once. "The wish of becoming a Brob."

A slow, wicked grin spread across my face.

Oh, Abbie.

You might be on top for now, but don't get too comfortable.

I'm coming.