Quint’s new neighbor was gorgeous. Intoxicating, really, if he was willing to be cliché enough to admit the facts. She and her mom had only moved in three days ago, so he was still working up the courage to get close enough to her to ask her name or find out first-hand what color her eyes were. Still, despite her having moved in so recently, Quint had accrued a good number of facts about her. With the help of his binoculars and window, of course.

She clearly knew she was gorgeous. No girl with low self-esteem about her appearance would change so openly with the window open, letting her bra fall off her sun-tanned D-cup tits in full view. Sunny D's, he thought to himself. In fact, on the second night of being her neighbor and witnessing the same thing, Quint had almost wondered if she was specifically putting on a show for him.

She was slender, and lightly tan everywhere, but not in an overly saturated way that would have indicated an obsession with tanning beds. Her blonde hair flowed down in layers to the small of her back. He was absolutely certain that if Aphrodite was real and decided to take human form in the early 21st century, this girl was her.

The truth is that if she hadn’t approached him on her fourth day as his neighbor, he probably would have never worked up the courage to do anything more than ogle at her through their windows.

“Hey,” was all it took her to say for him to become a bumbling, sweaty mess. He had known she was gorgeous through the window, but when she stood right in front of him, he couldn’t help but let “Wow…” slip through his lips.

“What?” she asked, squinting as if it would help her hear what he had said.

He blushed, embarrassed. “I, uh… Nothing.”

She nodded her head slowly, with the same speed a smirk grew on her face. She was clearly used to men either being or acting like complete idiots. She also knew how to make them only want her more even while she indicated their stupidity.

“Listen, my mom and I moved in a few days ago and we don’t really know anyone in the neighborhood. She figured that since you’re about my age, we could hang out or something. But if your shoe is more interesting…”

Quint snapped back up to look at her. His eyes tried their hardest to stare at her sizeable cleavage, but he sweated through the urge. “No, I’d, uh, love to hang out! That would be rad!”

Her smirk stayed put. “Rad?”

“Um, cool. It would be cool.”

She rolled her eyes. “I liked rad better.”

It was Quint’s turn to smile. “Rad.”

She smiled back this time. Not just a smirk. “You want to come over? I’m one of those hipster weirdos who has an Atari. I have some classics. If you’re into insanely addictive games with shitty graphics that are impossible to actually win, that is.”

“Dude. Yes.”

She was off his porch before his brain had time to register that looking at her ass was rude. Also that he should be following her. “Well?” she called back to him, without bothering to slow down or even turn her head back toward him.

And like that they were walking to her house.

He lived in a well-to-do neighborhood, to put it lightly. For instance, his new neighbor’s house (he realized he hadn’t yet asked her name) had two balconies—one facing the backyard that was accessible for lounging and one in the front just for show. Still, it came as a bit of a shock to him to see the house so clean, if still somewhat cluttered with cardboard boxes.

“The woman who lived here before was crazy. Crazy messy, too,” he said as they walked into her house through a garage wide enough to fit two cars, though it was currently empty. “She was a hoarder. Tons of cats.”

“Everyone likes a little pussy now and then, right?” She winked at him, smiling large enough to reveal perfect teeth. She grabbed his hand to lead him upstairs. Or, it was more like she reached her hand out to him and his hand was magnetically attracted to it.

Was she flirting with him? Quint blinked a few times to try and wash away any hallucinations he was having. None of this made sense. He wasn’t ugly or anything, but he was still a lanky nerd, and she… wasn’t.

It took reaching the top of the stairs for him to continue his story. “Her brother is apparently a real big shot, because he paid for her house and all of her food and stuff. So she didn’t even have to go outside ever. Or anything.”

“Alright,” she said. “Just this flight of stairs to my room.”

He forgot what he had been talking about. He had assumed they’d be playing video games in the basement or something. He wasn’t a prude or anything. It’s not like going into a girl’s bedroom was normally such a big deal, or really a deal at all. But this wasn’t normal.

Her room reeked pink plush. A lavender shag carpet and a double-king-sized (for gay kings, he figured) heart shaped, magenta bed. It might have been an unwieldy shape to try and get a good night’s rest on if it had been a normal sized bed, but it was humongous.

If he had been unsure if she was the god of love in a mortal form before, all doubts had been wiped away.

“What did you say your name was?” he somehow managed to mutter as he ogled her scarlet satin blanket.

“I didn’t,” she said. Then she pulled her top off.

Quint’s subconscious mind led him to back away. It was like Indiana Jones: you can’t just look inside the Ark of the Covenant.

Of course, then she pulled her bra off. He moved forward again. “Uh…” was the entirety of his vocabulary.

“I know you’ve been watching me undress,” she said.

Guilt racked him for a moment before backing off. It had, apparently, worked out in his favor.

“You’ve been bad.” She unbuttoned his pants. “You need to be punished.” She unzipped them. “And I know just the trick.” She pulled them down, along with his underwear.

Quint’s vocabulary remained one word. “Uh…” Goddammit! he thought. Say something intelligible! And sexy! And—

She turned him around and pushed him on the bed. Something intelligible came out of his mouth when she took off her own pants to reveal a recently Brazilianed pussy. “Oh my god.” Sexy? Maybe not so much.

Slow as the smirk she’d had not ten minutes ago, she pushed him down with the tip of her pointer finger until he was lying on the bed. She climbed over him as she did so, so she wound up with each of her legs kneeling on either side of his crotch.

She reached down her perfectly smooth, perfectly soft, perfectly perf—

Oh my god.

He had been hard since he’d entered her room, but she needed to make sure.

Then he was inside of her.

“You’ve been bad,” she said. She rose and fell, the sticky and smooth warmth of her pussy swallowing his dick whole. He could feel her ass landing on his thighs. Her engorged clit bumping into him. He could feel everything.

“You need to be punished,” she said. She placed her hand on his face, pushing him down as far as she could into the springy bed. She moved up again, slowly, savoring him like the only popsicle in the world on a boiling summer’s day. She placed his hands on her tits.

“Twist my nipples,” she commanded.

Quint came.

Then he passed out.

When he came to, he couldn’t remember where he was. Even when he did, it came back to him in a haze. That couldn’t have been real. She was way out of his league.

But when he opened his eyes and looked up, he knew it was. She was there, pussy soaking wet. Only… That can’t be right.

He tried to blink away his hallucination again, but the image stayed the same. She was the size of a building. She had grown immensely.

“Fucking two-pump chump…” she muttered. “You’d think being the goddess of love would, like, give you the freedom to at least make them last a little longer.”

A drop of cum spilled out of her onto him. He sputtered, but the reason now was different than the past number of times he’d done so today.

“Oh,” she looked down at him past her massive breasts. “You’re up. It usually takes guys a little bit to wake up, too. I guess you’re little mister Speedy Gonzalez all around, huh?”

Of all the questions he had, the first to come out was, “Are you really a goddess?”

She laughed. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you?” When he remained too scared to speak, she continued demeaning him, her vagina continuing to loom dangerously above him. It moved with her hips as she waved her hands around while she spoke. “There’s no such thing as God. Well, maybe there is now, for you. My therapist said I had a god complex. He didn’t last very long, though.” The trademarked smirk. “Mom decided it was best to avoid getting me a therapist after what I did with him. She doesn’t like me doing this stuff, but she knows if she ever tried to get in my way, I’d fuck my way out of prison and then she’d be toast.”

Nothing she was saying assuaged Quint’s fear at all.

“I keep her around because I’m still too young to get away with having my own place without having to launder cash somehow. And that’s effort. I guess you could say my mom is my laundering scheme.”

Quint started crying as he realized that this was, indeed, happening. “Please…” he said.

“I mean, it’s not like she objects to playing with my guys after I’ve already got them down to a good size. It’s just that it’s hard to cover our tracks after I’ve done it a couple times, you know? We have to move whenever I get too horny. It’s a pain in the ass, to be honest.”

“Please…” he said again. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go.”

“Well, there’s the thing. You’re going to do whatever I want whether I let you go or not. It’s not like I even know how to get you back to full size.”

“Please…”

“Hey, look!” she said to him, flinging her hand to point at him. The quick start and stop of her body led another bit of her juice to fall down onto him. He gagged. As much as he liked pussy, the smell of it was too much at his size. “It’s not like this is fun for me either! Can you imagine what it was like for me my first time? I actually liked that guy! And I never even get to bone a dude more than once!” She thought on it for a second. “I mean,” she said, “I guess I could’ve told you to pull out or whatever, but I barely had the time to register you were in me.”

Quint’s amygdala pumped into action, because without bothering to think about how impossible his escape was, he got up and tried to make a dash for it. That’s when he realized that he was no longer wearing socks. They were a handful of yards away, each of them large enough to hold a dozen of him. She hadn’t grown in size; he’d shrunk. Even getting off the bed was going to be a chore.

“You get me all turned on, get your piece of action, and now you want to leave? That’s really rude, Quint.”

He kept running. She felt too lazy to bother with leaning forward enough to grab him.

“You’re not even going to ask me how I know your name?”

Thoughts weren’t occurring to Quint at the moment. He continued running.

“Or why I chose you? I mean, it’s not like I was worried you weren’t going to come over. It doesn’t take much more than a wink for me to have guys panting,” she said. “The only time I had difficulty was this one guy, Xander, but that’s because he was gay. I actually felt kinda bad.”

Quint had reached the edge of the bed. He realized that he’d have to jump.

“I mean, it’s just so much easier to not even care once you have the guys down to about a twelfth of their height.”

He stood there, frightened, trying to judge whether or not his death would be more or less painful if he stayed or if he go’d. If he go’d there would be trouble, but if he stayed…

“Well, are you gonna jump or what? Don’t just stand there.”

He really wanted to. The shag carpet would cushion his fall. He was sure of it. But his survival instinct wouldn’t let him.

She snorted with laughter. “Yeah, guys don’t actually try jumping until about a week in, usually. I mean, it’s not like you can actually hurt yourself that way. You’re too small. You won’t exactly float like a feather, but air resistance increases. Something about surface area decreasing slower than volume.”

He got a better idea, to get his brain’s brain to win over his brain’s brawn. He sat down on the edge of the satin cloth and counted to three.

One.

“Well, if you’re not going to ask, I’ll just tell you.

Two.

“I like to collect guys with weird names.”

Two and a half.

“That’s why I picked you. Doing two guys with the same name makes me feel like kind of a slut, you know?”

Two and three quarters.

“I like each guy to be a new experience. I bet you really hate your parents for naming you such a shitty name now, huh?”

Three.

“I mean, what the hell kind of names start with ‘Q?’”

He pushed himself forward. If his legs wouldn’t let him down, his arms could do the trick. As expected, he landed on the carpet, safe and sound. The fibers, no longer soft to the touch, reached up to his chest. Sort of the perfect height for him to brush them aside as he tried to figure out where the door was. Looking up made him dizzy, so he had to scan the bottom of the wall for a gap.

“Oh, wow. You’re a brave little guy, huh? I guess I shouldn’t have told you you’d survive. That was kinda cheating.”

He found what he was looking for. He had to pass under the bed.

“Look, I don’t really feel like trying to find you right now, because I’m still pretty horny and I’d kinda like to just rub one out, you know? So if you stay put, I won’t go too hard on you.”

While she thought on the actuality of what she’d just said, Quint started his journey. The distance wasn’t immense, but the carpet slowed his movements. It was like trying to hack his way through a rainforest.

“I mean, I won’t go hard on you today.”

It occurred to him that he was still slimy with her quim. When he got under the bed, he took a moment to wipe himself off as best he could, using one of the ropes jutting from the floor as a makeshift towel.

“That’s as good a deal as you’re going to get, you know.”

Quint took a breather. She was right. He couldn’t win. Unless…

When he got closer to the edge of the shadow he was in, he dove into the carpet. He’d make his way to the door crawling. When he got into the light, though, he heard her booming laughter.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “That’s just too cute. You know I’m above you, right? I can still see you. Even your cute little butt.”

He froze.

“Not that it’s that cute. Honestly, you should be glad you even got to be with someone as hot as me before you settled for eternal virginity. Now here,” she grunted as she leaned over the edge of the bed.

Her perfectly manicured fingers (nails rose-pink and somewhat pointy, of course) closed in on either side of him. He was airborne.

“If maybe you’d taken a little bit of time to take care of my needs before splooging everywhere, we wouldn’t have to do this. But you didn’t, so we do.” She dropped him. He closed his eyes as he bounced on the bed, rising up handfuls of feet (from his perspective) in the air before falling back down again. When he finally settled, he opened his eyes, peeking out through spread fingers.

Her pussy, as if noticing he’d seen it, swooped in. She didn’t insert him, only rubbed up and down on him, leaving an infinity of snail trails on him in her wake.

“Now, I’d say this won’t take long, but I’ve seen your idea of long. So this might take a while.”

It wasn’t anything like sex.

It wasn’t fun. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t smell good. It didn’t taste good. He wasn’t turned on.

She certainly was.

His arms were as clasped to his sides as his eyelids, as gripped by her walls as his upper and lower jaw were to each other. It was all he could do. He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, and prayed he would wake up soon.

In fact, at their current size disparity, her cunt wasn’t even anything like a cunt anymore. It was like a blind alien’s head, her urethral opening a single nostril. Her labia was strange alien hair, coming down in one large, wrinkly clump instead of in separate strands.

Okay, maybe the face analogy was a bit of a stretch, but it was the best he could do in the moment to humanize a completely alien situation.

She (if aliens had gender in the same way as humans did) was an alien, unable to digest his human flesh yet obsessed with his flavor, trying to swallow him even as she regurgitated discharge over his shaking form.

Well, he really shouldn’t have been turned on, and, in actuality, he wasn’t, but the pressure and speed of her wet tunnel rubbing up and down on his cock gave him an erection. He didn’t cum, though.

“Aw, Quint, honey,” she giggled. “Don’t look so miserable. You got with a goddess twice in a row! In one day! That’s twice as many pussies as you’ve been in total before today. I mean,” she flustered out, heartbeat rising, “you get it, right? Because you’re, like, a virgin and everything.” He could feel the blood pulsing through her veins all around him. “But,” she paused both her speaking and movement for a moment to let out a moan, then continued thrusting her cunt around him, faster than before. “Like, you came out of your mom that way.” She thought about it while continuing to assault him. “Unless you were, like a C-section.”

Quint continued trying to stay as still as possible through the blasting waves of slime and heat pouring over him. For a moment, she slowed down.

“Hang on a sec,” she said. She was lying on her back with her knees up so her feet could lie flat on the surface of her bed, but she sat up for moment. She leaned to the side, lifting Quint up briefly before gravity slid him out of her. “You’re pretty thin, unlike a lot of the fatties I got back when we were living down south. I need a little help.”

Quint didn’t bother to open his eyes, but he could hear the clatter of a disorganized drawer. Then the thundering rumble of a vibrator twice his weight. He opened his eyes for a moment as she lifted him back up into her looming vagina. The vibrator was just about the same shade of magenta as the now sopping blanket. It was silicone and veined, essentially a dildo with an on switch. He closed his eyes again as she brought it down to her clit and sat herself down again with him snug, if not safe, inside of her.

“Listen,” she said. Then she gasped for what felt like an eternity. “I mean,” she moaned. Her sticky juices were now freely flowing, pouring out of the dappled texture of her walls. “Not my moaning or whatever. Although you can—Uh! …listen to that, too, of course.”

He wished she’d shut up and get this over with.

“Just tilt your head back so you don’t get bashed in the face a bunch. I promise Mr. Pink won’t leave my clit as long as you’re a good boy and stay put.” She moaned. “Oh my glob… That is in-fucking-tense.”

Then she gasped again, and all hell broke loose out of her urethra. It wasn’t piss. It was sticky and sweet, but it shot out of her with force and into Quint’s flaring nostrils as he tried to grab every breath he could.

When he opened his mouth to continue his efforts, another wave shot onto him. This time, he ended up swallowing it. It took less effort than spitting.

While she coated him in waves of sucrose-saturated piss, she clenched onto him, to the point that his arms shifted from being on his sides to being uncomfortably trapped on top of his stomach.

After half a minute of clenching and squirting, she turned Mr. Pink off and let him fall down on the other side of her thigh.

When it became clear she was enjoying a moment of rapturously silent stillness, Quint decided now was as good a time as any to slither back out of her.

“Okay,” she gasped. “You can go out now. But don’t try anything. We still have lots of fun ahead of us.”

He didn’t. He was too tired and too out of it to even consider lifting a finger or opening an eye. Of course, if he had, he would have gotten a great view of the last thing he ever wanted to see again, so it was probably better that way.

She woke up from her nap before he did, but it didn’t take long for her booming, yet sickeningly petite voice to jerk him awake.

…toenails need fixing up, don’t you think?”

He sighed with disappointment in himself. She had fallen asleep before him, too. Had he actually given up hope so quickly? It hadn’t been half a day. It hadn’t even been a quarter, probably.

“Aw, honey,” she said, peering down at him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Lots of guys are too worn out after their first time to really make an effort to escape. I mean, even without having to actually even move at all, it takes a good bit of effort to deal with a girl as needy as me, I bet.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Listen, I’ll give a little bit of a breather, okay? We can do my nails later.”

He remained silent, but he opened his eyes. Ugh. He closed them again.

“Well, that was kind of rude. You know, you’re getting off pretty easy as it is with only having to do my nails. If you think I got this Brazilian from someone other than a shrinky dink, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Quint sat up and turned away from her. When he moved, he could feel the now cool slickness beneath him. He opened his eyes from a jab of disgust. At least now he had a view of… a mirror. Oval, with an ornate metal room slapdash painted pink. He saw himself sitting, and her, sitting much, much larger than him. He attempted to sigh through his nose, deeper this time than the last one, but quickly realized that it was a horrible idea.

It’s okay. He thought. I’ll wait until she’s asleep tonight, and then I’m out of here. No matter what.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s not going to work. I have a very special little space for you to sleep in. Mom helped me make it! Lemme show you.”

She stood up and walked over to her closet, bending over to rummage. As much as Quint hated to admit it, she really was absolutely gorgeous.

“Voila!” she said, triumphant. It was a metal case about the size of a shoebox, locked shut. It had stickers of hearts covering it. What was her deal with hearts? She opened it to reveal a Barbie sized- bed and a shot glass. Hearts on everything.

“Listen, you rest up. We can do my nails later. I don’t want you to get so worn out tonight you’re no fun tomorrow, right?”

He stared at his new home, dazed. Fine. He wouldn’t escape physically. But this whole thing had to be a dream, right? So he nodded his head. Maybe if he went to sleep in a dream, he’d wake up. He wasn’t really sure about lucid dream logistics.

“Lemme wash you off first, though.”

She grabbed him up in her fist and started walking, no simulation of pretending he was human. In her private bathroom, she turned the faucet on to a comfortable temperature and pressure. He started to wipe himself off, but she stopped him, then started to do it herself, coating her pointer finger in liquid soap.

She took extra time cleaning his no-longer-private area.

“You know,” she mused, her great breasts hanging above him, “you’re pretty well hung for a nerd. Kind of a shame it doesn’t actually matter anymore.”

She dried him off with a pink washcloth, aggressively and without ceremony. Small fibers clung to him, but she only seemed to like him better with a little bit of pink on him, smiling widely at her handiwork.

When they returned to her bedroom, she muttered, “I need to change my fucking sheets now.” but she still put him in the box. Before closing the lid, she told him, “You should have enough space in there to stand up. Tough shit if you don’t, alright?”

He nodded, staring off into space.

“You’re doing the whole silent sorrow thing, huh?” she sneered at him. “Whatever. Don’t piss on the floor. That’s why I gave you the glass.”

She shut the lid, and he could just make out his bedroom by the light poking in through the breathing holes in the ceiling. Quint heard and felt the lock chunking shut.

Then they were on the move, and then, with a bump, she placed him down on the floor, presumably in her closet.

“Oh, and by the way, don’t try getting out. You can’t and it’ll just wake me up. I’m kind of a light sleeper.”

Then there was no light.

Unfortunately for Quint, sleep didn’t seem like much of an option for him tonight. The girl (what was her name?) slept soundly, her peaceful snoring wafting through the closet door and into his box.

After her mom had made dinner, she had brought him a piece of broccoli. “I need you healthy,” she had said. When he hadn’t immediately gone to eat it, she had threatened him: “If I don’t see a good chunk of this gone by tomorrow morning, I’m going to be very upset. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

He was in a daze, but his head automatically shook a no for him.

“Good.”

So he spent the night eating as much of the piece of broccoli as he could. It was something to do, even if he started to gag towards the end. When he was done, he spent what felt like forever trying to avoid puking. And when he was done that, his metabolism lulled him to sleep.

He slept deeply. It took her not only lifting the box and unlocking it, but also opening it with a wide smile and saying “Good morning sleepyhead! Great job with finishing your dinner!” for him to jerk awake.

“Baby swept well, didn’t he?” she cooed.

“Fuck off…” he grumbled.

Her face changed instantaneously from cutesy to austere.

“What did you say to me?” she hissed.

He sighed. There was no point to rebelling. Unfortunately, not responding to her question also qualified as rebellion.

“I said,” she emphasized, “what did you just say to me?”

“I said fuck off. I’m sorry.”

Her angry face loomed across his vision. How was it possible for her to remain beautiful when her face was twisted by wrath?

“You feel like being bad today, huh?” she said, snatching him up in her hand and bringing him so agonizingly close to her face that he squirmed. “Is this because I went easy on you yesterday?”

He shook his head vigorously no. There was nothing he wanted less than for her to believe that what happened yesterday was going easy.

“No? Then what is it?”

“I just can’t wait to get started on your nails.”

A smile made its way back across her face. “I know you’re full of shit, but that was so cute I might just let you get away with it.” She thought about it for a second while they walked back to the bathroom. “If you do a good job, of course.” She placed him in her cleavage.

Quint felt an erection coming on, even as the warmth radiating from the jiggling mounds on either side of him brought him to sweat. He tried to think of unsexy things, like dead puppies and his grandma, but when a perfect pair of tits was gently pinching his entire body up to his neck, he ended up imagining dead puppies with great racks. He didn’t even bother with trying to imagine his grandma, because that would undoubtedly plummet him into more shame than he already felt about the puppies with puppies.

“Hm…” the girl said, pretending it was a difficult decision. “Which polish do you think I should use? Rose? Or Pink Passion?”

“Whatever you want…” Quint mumbled. He was distracted.

“Boy,” she said, “you really like my tits, huh, cutie? I wonder if you’d like my ass as much. Or are you a tit man, through and through?”

It didn’t take long for Quint to decide he didn’t want to end up down there. “I like the, uh, chest area the best. By far.”

She laughed. “How did I know you were going to say that?” she asked. “Listen, we’ll be trying it out later. You can lie, but you’ve got a lie detector in between your legs. If you’re lying, we can have fun watching it grow.” She winked down at him.

Fortunately for Quint, he really wasn’t an ass guy. Unfortunately, he doubted very much that she really cared.

“I’ve decided,” she said. “We’re going to try out Raspberry. It’s new, so I kind of have to. I wonder if it actually smells like raspberries.” She laughed, but Quint was too busy focusing his attention on trying to not explode to join her. “Probably not. Nail polish smells kind of gross, don’t you think?”

He tried to boost himself up, so that he didn’t feel so completely immobile. Unfortunately, with his arms pinned to his sides, he only succeeded in digging himself further into her.

“Whoa, there, little guy!” she said as she plopped down on the bed, bouncing with a pace that gave Quint seasickness, “Don’t suffocate in there. I know I have a great pair and everything, but I like to think I’m able to hold on to my little fellas for at least a few weeks each. I might not have been caught yet, but if I shrink every guy I come across, somebody’s bound to notice. And I just can’t go for too long without one.”

Just as he was sure that she was going to continue talking until he really did suffocate in the pressure of a D-cup push-up bra, she used her hands to pull her tits away from one another. “You can come out now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He tumbled out of her, tripping on the collar of her shirt and falling on his face. She laughed, and her mouth was so near to him that he felt the noise was coming from all sides.

“Alright,” she said. “I grabbed my polish towel from the bathroom while we were in there. It usually takes guys a few tries to be able to do it without dripping everywhere. And while you were asleep,” she added, “I also filed them down.”

He sat dazed on the towel, surrounded by splotches of various shades of pink larger than he was.

“Fine, don’t thank me. See how much good that does you.” She unscrewed the polish, and an acrid scent poured out, burning his nose and eyes. She giggled at his pain. “You could also thank me for picking polishes with thin caps. Otherwise, you’d probably fumble more than… I don’t know. Who’s a bad football player? I don’t really watch it.”

She handed him the polish. He staggered under it, not so much at the weight as the difficulty of maneuvering it. Already he slipped, and a drop of dark pink landed on the towel.

“As entertaining as this is,” she said, “I’d like it if you could hurry up. I think I’m going to try and get you a friend tonight, and who knows if he’ll be as easy as you.”

Eventually, he found that by leaning on the base of her big toe, he was able to use its support to prop himself up. He painted the polish across the middle of her nail. They were perfect nails, just like the rest of her. Smooth and crisp, neither jutting out of her skin nor enveloped in the flesh.

He slid the brush along one edge of the nail, being careful not to get the paint on her skin. He didn’t think she’d be so patient about that kind of mess up. To get the far edge of the big toe, he realize he’d have to move closer. In order to still have support, he ended up standing in between her toes. Truthfully, he was tall enough that he still pointed the brush down at her nails. He grunted with effort as he brushed it along her nail.

When he went back over to restock the brush with polish, he found that she’d moved it closer to him. She really meant that she wanted this done as quickly as possible.

Eventually, as his head got more comfortable with the smell dripping off the brush, he began to smell her feet beneath it. Salty, but not heavily. She had already taken a shower today, and she didn’t sweat profusely. He was definitely grateful for that.

“Do you know any guys with weird names around here?” she asked him. “Preferably good looking ones, but I won’t be picky.”

As if he was going to help her trap some other guy. “No.”

“Too bad, I guess. I always have to do the work.” She scrolled through her phone while he labored. “Let’s see if we can’t find some loser on Tinder.”

He sighed. Maybe if he had a partner, they could figure something out. It could take the pressure off of him.

“It gets me so hot when two little guys make out. Especially when they’re all macho and grossed out and stuff. It’s so funny.” She giggled.

Ugh. Nevermind.