City life had its ups and downs, but living away from home had always been a dream for Amy. The rigidity and boring countryside town could be considered dull enough that it may as well have been a form of torture. Yet here amongst the hustle of the concrete jungle, she felt more alive, as if its energy and vigour flowed into her like electricity through a wire. It possessed a vibrancy, a seamless edge to it that allowed life to flow fast and fluid. Though she could only afford to live in a little apartment by the grace of a student loan, it would be enough to see her through to the end of her studies.

A hearty yawn, followed by a groan and sigh. The sun slipped through the blinds, stirring her from sleep. Cursing that the bed had to be right beside the window, she threw off the covers. Amy lumbered up, rubbing her eyes. The alarm clock on the bedside then blared a pulsating ringing when the time struck nine in the morning. Her room had a neat order to it that she strived to maintain. A small flimsy wooden desk to her left that had just enough room to fit her laptop with a rickety office chair that was more liable to fall apart than propping her up, which was followed by a temporary prop up grey wardrobe to store and hang her myriad of clothes. Inside such storage had a range of backpacks, bags and shoes. To her right, a glass mirror hanging from the creme-white coloured wall. A deep basket for anything that needed to be washed had been wedged tightly by the foot of her bed. The bedroom itself had just enough space to fit all these bits of furniture, leaving what felt like a rectangular patch of barren carpet before she could go out into the hallway. Huffing and silencing the dirge of the alarm, Amy went to get herself ready for her early morning lecture.

Out in the thin connecting room, her left and only five paces away was the entrance. To her right led to a sparse kitchen, which itself was then connected to a confined cubicle that could only be considered a mockery of a bathroom. The kitchen counters and stovetop, cracked and covered in several layers of grease, looked like they had not been tended to for several years. Cleaning materials, ranging from a filthy rag, its pink hue down dirty and black, to kitchen cleaner sprays from every brand and producer sat on the desktop. Several wooden cupboards hung above the burner and sink. With a squeak, Amy pulled out a bowl and some cereal and went over to the hip-high fridge tucked at the back, pulling out some milk from the back of the near vacant unit. From a drawer, she pulled out a spoon and went back to her bedroom. Planting herself onto the chair slowly to ensure it would snap, she ate at her desk, turning on her laptop. There was no other place to eat. The kitchen, deplorable and cramped as it was, would not be able to fit even this table in there. It had just enough room for all the appliances with a thin partition to let you into the bathroom.

After a quick scan through emails and wolfing down her expired cereal, Amy took off her pyjamas and pulled a towel from atop her wardrobe and went to the bathroom. Expediency was key. The shower would either scald or freeze, depending on its mood for the day. What made it all the more precarious was that the shower head was over the bathtub, making it all the more likely one could slip and break a bone whilst trying to wash. All the fixtures, from the sink to the toilet, were separated by several inches such that if one tried to get some water from the tap, a turn would have you stumble into the toilet or the bathtub. The door had been fitted with pure precision, such that there was a millimetre gap when it swung open between it and the toilet. A low hanging lightbulb had been fitted in but a small window at the back allowed the steam to escape, with its weak white blinds to stop someone from another apartment block across the road from having a peek into her abode. A quick freezing shower shocked out any residual weariness.   

Drying off her thin slender body, Amy returned to her bedroom, ruffled her ginger pixie cut hair and then dressed in her usual attire. A parka jacket, crop top, slim-cut jeans and thigh-high boots. Stylish enough to present a front that her digs were not in a state of utter disrepair and close to being condemned, but not so fashionable to make anyone believe she came from money. Many of the other girls at university used lectures more as a walkway for fashion, something that had never expected. Just to fit in, Amy had to follow suit as best she could. After a delicate application of eyeliner, foundation and glossy lipstick, she finally felt ready to leave. Ten o'clock struck on her alarm. Amy packed her bag with her laptop, phone and charger and left her apartment. Down the hallway and the elevator, she left the entranceway, walking out of the brown brick tower block and into the busy and bustling street. Office girls, tired and weary, paced past all the students that kept on forming a line across the sidewalk to talk with one another. Tourists meandering about looking lost and confused, hipsters skating past or delivery girls rushing to drop off packages. A fleet of bikes flew down the road as taxis, busses, cars and vans contested for spots in the lanes, hooting and honking one another. The air stunk of wet concrete, as a wafting luxurious scent of brewed coffee and freshly baked cakes passed by. All this turmoil and speed, hundreds of lives all passing by one another. It would have been a sight to have seen ten or so women back home at this time.   

Joining the pedestrians, Amy turned right and kept pace with the other students, lurking behind them, passing by the local boutique cafe that came next to a sidestreet. Within this dark and dingy alleyway, lined with overflowing dumpsters, waste bins and vents billowing out steam from the complexes, a curious and quaint cardboard box took her eye, making her backpedal and run across the tide of girls trying to go about their lives. Awkwardly apologising and bumping passed them, she came across a brown container sitting next to the nearest dumpster just ten steps away, close enough for her to see the words “new home needed” in big blocky capital letters drawn with a black marker pen. Intrigued, she stood before the box, crouched down and opened it to reveal its contents. A tiny tucked itself away in the corner, curled up and shivering, wearing nothing but rags across its pale frame. Even when Amy had flipped open the cardboard, the tiny had barely reacted to the sunlight pouring in nor to her looming above. He turned his head and looked at Amy. The man’s eyes, coloured a piercing blue like a clear summers days sky, stared for a moment and then he tucked his head back in, his shivers worsening.

Stunned into silence, a welling of remorse struck her like a punch to the stomach. Amy threw her head side to side, wondering who could have left him here. Yet all she saw was the stream of city folk passing by, uncaring to whatever Amy was doing in this alley. Instinct took over and adrenaline spiked. Picking up the container with deftness and grace, she hurried back to her room. Ducking and weaving between the oncoming foot traffic, slamming her shoulder against the entryway door to open it, then up the elevator and to her apartment. She fumbled about in her pockets for keys, unlocked her door, kicked it behind her and then placed the cardboard down onto her unmade bed. She opened it again. The tiny was stilled curled up in its fetal position, despite all the chaos of trying to get back to her room. Unsure of what to do, she paced about. Panic clouded her thoughts, considering one possible course of action, then discarding it for another.

“Food, warmth and water,” Amy thought to herself, simplifying what she had to do next, “That is what he needs!”

A jaunt to the kitchen to procure something to eat and drink brought a new challenge. Everything she had was not intended for someone so small. There were bits of food in the fridge, but they were probably bigger than his entire frame. Giving him a glass of water would have been the equivalent of giving him a water tower. Clicking her fingers, an idea came to her. From her bag, she took out a bottle and filled the cap with water. Taking the last bits of cereal, Amy ground it down into minute chunks between her fingers. Tiny portions prepared and ready, she raced backed into her bedroom. Peering over the walls, the tiny kept still as if he were asleep. With careful finesse, Amy placed the food and water beside him. Now all she had to figure out was how to keep him warm. Something like a sweater would dwarf him and more likely to smother him than save him. A blanket also would be too thick and end up crushing him. Something light yet durable, yet nothing came to the forefront of her mind. Tearing up some clothes might be good enough, but then again, the fabric could overwhelm him also.

Dilemma at hand, Amy peeked and looked at the tiny, who continued trembling and ignoring the food and water before him. Flustered with panic, something had to be done to stop him from freezing to death. Urgency demanded her to act. Amy reached into the box to pick him up, yet seeing her hand coming towards him, the tiny broke from curling up and scarped away, fleeing from one corner to the other. Wide-eyed and terror struck, he tripped over himself, falling onto the cardboard and resolved to scoot away on his back until his back hit the wall. Amy jerked back in shock. The tiny, cowering in abject horror, shielding himself with his arms, tried to shrink himself lower and lower.

“I…” Amy tried to talk but could not find the words, lost under a sea of anxiety and sorrow. Seeing him degrade into such a state at her mere approach stole away her power to speak., but she knew she had to do something. Bringing her hand slowly towards him, letting him see her fingers come above him, the tiny seemed rooted to the spot, shaking uncontrollably.

Her middle finger hovered just before him. Amy’s fingertip was equal to half his height. To see something like that coming towards you without knowing any intention would strike terror into anyone.

In her most soft and tender tone, lowering it to a gentle whisper, Amy spoke to him, “I don't mean to hurt you…”

He remained unconvinced and still stared at her finger as if it were going to attack him at any moment.

“Please…” Tears welled into her eyes, her voice breaking, “I just want to help.”

The tiny glanced between her mournful look, her trembling lip and her middle finger. Exchanging looks, darting between her and her face, he raised his hand, still quivering and shaking. Unsure, he left a gap between them and then touched her fingertip. The instant he did, he then yanked away out, backing off as if driven by some animalistic instinct. Yet when Amy did not react and kept her finger out, the tiny looked shocked and confused. Under such a stupor, he shuffled forward again and touched her digit to test her reaction. He turned upwards and looked at Amy, dumbfounded with his mouth agape. She gasped in delight, having failed to realise she had not taken a breath out of worry, returning to him a warming smile, beaming as bright and radiant as the sun.

“You are going to freeze to death unless I pick you up,” Amy said, and then asked, “Will you be okay if I do?”

The tiny stared at his bare feet, looked to Amy and then gave a hesitant nod. Consent given, she plucked him up between her finger and thumb, taking every care not to squeeze or drop him. So worried about the possibility, Amy’s hand shook. Holding such a fragile life between one's fingers brought with it a racing heart and the dread thoughts of hurting him. With unfounded fear, she deposited him into the palm of her left hand. He landed on his feet, crouching as if unsure about where he had just fallen onto. Then placing her right hand beneath her left for support, she brought him up to be level with her face. At this vantage, she could make out more of his features. She had already seen his mesmerising eyes, yet they were surrounded by dark circles and bags. His face was rugged and well defined, with a shaggy frock of greasy brown hair. Thin from starvation and so diminished Amy felt as if she were carrying a feather. His rags, infested with holes and stains, came down to his knees. An inherent proudness kept trying to push its way through it the tiny, trying to straighten out his back and stand tall and proud before her. Yet, the tiny continued to shiver as if he were still trapped in the icy bite of winter.

Amy’s cheeks flushed red, stuttering out “T-tuck into my palm… It should be warm enough to fight off the cold.”

Apprehensive and cautious, the tiny curled himself up, her palm tickling as he eased himself and wiggled to get comfortable. His breathing became more laboured and heavy but the spasms began to die down when he did eventually settle. With the utmost care and diligence, Amy stroked his head, but he failed to respond. Upon closer inspection, he had fallen asleep. Tired and worn after spending however long in that box, the warmth of her hand must have felt intoxicating. Seeing him rest brought something unexpected to Amy. It rose like a high pitched squeal, pursing her lips to stop it from disturbing the slumbering tiny. Instead, it resonated within her thoughts, bouncing about and a growing urge to pat him overtook her. All she could hear was this squeal in her mind whilst a great grin formed on her face.

Snuffing out the wail in her mind, Amy became drunk with a singular thought, “He's sooo cute!”

When her infatuation levelled out, it then slid instead into melancholy. Amy removed the cardboard box by chucking it across the room, laying out on her bed, propped herself up with a pillow on her back and rested her hand on her stomach. She could only imagine the harrowing journey the tiny must have had. Whatever must have happened beforehand to make him so skittish and afraid of just her finger nearly brought her to tears. Something so small and beautiful begged the question, what sort of monster could have abused him. Perhaps the tiny still did not trust her for that reason, but with exhaustion taking its toll and when offered soothing warmth, it knocked him off his feet and made him relax. Amy exhaled. She did not know how to tend to him, nor did she have any clothes or bits of food for someone so minuscule. Watching him curl up in her palm and doze off into a deep sleep, she swore to herself she would abandon him as someone else had done before. It would be awkward, clumsy even at first, but she would care for him here. That much Amy did know.

The adrenaline rush, peaking from her panic, flushed out of her system and a wave of fatigue overtook her. Her eyes became heavy and the walls of her bedroom blurred. In that split moment where her eyelids shut, she reopened them. Thirty minutes had passed by in the blink of an eye. Amy had not stirred an inch, but the tiny had awoken before her, sitting cross-legged in her palm with his back facing her. His shivers had stopped, the pale morbid complexion abating to become fairer as colour returned.

“Hi there…” Amy spoke softly, still stirring from her nap, “Did you sleep okay?”

The tiny shifted round and remained silent. For a second, Amy thought she saw him smile before returning to a sullen muted expression. He opened his lips, paused and then sealed them before turning his head down to look away from her. Thinking of his possible distress, Amy brought her index finger and brushed his head. Still unresponsive, Amy withdrew, yet then he gazed upwards, inaudibly mouthing something. Intrigued and astonished, she raised her hand closer to her face to hear him, without realising just how terrifying it might have been to loom over and dominate his vision with her comparable giant frame. Such a move made him nervous, freezing him up as he tightened himself up.

“It's okay,” Amy cooed, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I did sleep well. T-Thank you ma’am,” he meeked out, so high pitched it was more akin to the squeaking of a mouse.

Amy’s cheek blazed red. Her entire face lit up like burning coals in a stoked furnace. Though the tiny shrunk back down, she could have not been more ecstatic and utterly enthralled with him. Unable to control her impulse, she lifted him up, pursed her lips and gave him a warm-hearted kiss, pecking him. Not expecting such treatment, the tiny had just enough time to realise her glossy lips were barreling towards him, baulking in terror as he thought that she would try to eat him. By the time her lips pressed him, he basked in addictive heat that spread across his body in an awesome wave. Makeup stuck to him, imprinting a pink shade onto his dirty form, but in the instant that overwhelming glorious sensation of her lips smothered him, when Amy pulled back, it felt as though the sun had gone out and the cold that washed over him made him crave for her tender touch once more. Jaw agape, stupefied and stunned in silence, he saw Amy boasting a joyful smile, trying her best to stop her stop herself from giggling at how amazed he was.

“My name is Amy, what’s your name?”

“Nate…” He finally spoke. “My name is Nate.”  

No sooner had he uttered the words, Amy gave him an all-consuming kiss. Pressing into his body, his vision was subsumed by a tide of pink as her lips smothered him, dwarfing him in size. Craving that warmth, so sublime and enthralling, he basked in its radiance as the waft of perfume and lipstick hung heavy in the air. Nate felt the growing pressure pushing against him, a low hum as Amy seemed to be too entranced to notice. Just when he thought it would be too much, her lips parted from him, ending the kiss. Nate had not realised he had been put onto his back, resting against her palm as Amy slathered him. But then, the giantess huffed, ruffling her hair until she looked frenzied in nature. Biting down on her lip to control herself, but seeing the tiny in her hand, sprayed out on her palm, Amy felt fire coursing through her veins, submerging any rational thought beneath an ocean of lust. No sooner had she stopped, than Amy kept losing herself. She squirmed on the spot, rubbing her thighs together to try and dispel her arousal. The attempt failed.

For Nate, nothing compared to it. Each kiss evolved into an encompassing embrace, for every peck had been born from the deepest fathoms of affection and care of the giantess. His heart thumped against his chest as he craved for air, unable to gain a moment of reprieve before another set of intimate smooches bombarded him. He longed for such sensations to never cease, wishing that he could spend eternity enduring such tenderness. She broke from her stupor, composing herself as best she could, exhaling to release herself from her degenerate desires.

“Nice to meet you Nate,” Amy boomed with pride, almost unable to speak between her panting, “Welcome to your new home!”

Nate stumbled to his feet, still off-balance from the kisses, half glazed in her lipstick. Whatever fear he had before melted like snow beneath the sun. An air of confidence ran through him as he clicked his heels and bowed his head, much to Amy’s confusion.

“Thank you for hosting me, ma’am,” Nate said, straightening himself, “Y-You are too kind.”

“What's with the formality?” Amy asked, puzzled by the politeness.

Squirming in the spot, that air of confidence had been knocked straight out of him to the point where Nate looked despondent as if he looked through Amy rather than talk at her. He responded, “My former masters taught and instructed me to do so. I was to greet them as such, and that a tiny should only speak when spoken to.”

Nate’s face turned a sickly white, making him hollow and vacant, “And to obey without question.”

With no hesitation, Amy brought Nate hurtling towards her chest. At first, he reckoned it to be a form of punishment for speaking out to her. A gap above allowed him to peer upwards and see her so downcast and depressed. He could hear the rhythmic thumping of her heart as the slow rise of her chest with each breath she took pushed against him. Though he sat like a speck in her hand and the simplest of hers movements were liable to harm him, her hug was a careful embrace, trying to undo whatever harm had befallen him before Amy had found him. At first, he wondered if there was any point in returning the hug, questioning if she would even be able to feel him doing so. Instead, he nestled into her, placing his hands on her chest. Akin to a dot to her, he did not expect how cuddling, or at least, laying into her, could have brought a huge and heavy sigh of contentment from the giantess that blew against him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that Nate.” Up close to her chest, he felt his body vibrate from the bass of her voice.

Unperturbed, he buried himself deeper into her chest, a tear coming to his eye, “It is not your fault ma’am… but….”

“What's wrong?” Amy queried

“Hold on to me,” Nate whimpered, his words breaking apart, “Just for a while longer ma’am.”

Pouring every ounce of affection and compassion, Amy held him close, feeling all his tension and anxiety leave as Nate stopped tensing and went limp, soaking the exuberance and love of the giant. When she lifted him back up, Amy nuzzled him against her rosy cheek, whispering to him “Please, I’m not your ma’am. Just call me Amy.”  

“As you wish ma-” Nate arched himself to bow, but stopped halfway, then stood straight as if called to attention, “As you wish Amy.”

Using the tip of her finger, Amy tried to tickle his chin, but a nervous twitch kicked in from Nate. Preemptively bracing himself, he took a step back.

“Is everything all right Nate?” She asked, retracting her hand back, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m sorry,” A quiver in his voice and a shake in his hand, balling them into fists to try and manage his emotions, “I did not mean to offend.”

“Offend?” Mystified at the notion, Amy asked “Why do you think I would be?”

Nate, prostrating himself, replied by saying “I reproached your gesture when I have already asked you a kindness,” trembling on her palm, “I must apologise for my behaviour.”

Amy took a moment to pause, unsure how to respond. Nate refused to move, keeping himself low and not daring to move an inch. She whispered to him, letting her soft tone caress and ease him, “It's my fault Nate, I’m getting too carried away, but I am not your master or your ma’am, and you are not my pet or plaything. You should never feel you should have to apologise for being you.”

He continued to prostrate himself but Amy heard a sniffle as Nate, trembling, gasping for air and refusing to lift his head. Upon her palm, she could feel faint wet drops. He murmured something to himself, hiding as best he could to prevent the giant from seeing the state he was in. A weak sob prompted Amy to pat him, imbuing in him the courage to stand up, revealing him close to blubbering. Tears streamed down his face that he tried to wipe away, his cheeks blood red and he tried holding back his sputtering as best he could.

Covering his face in embarrassment, he muffled out “I am nought but a wretch, I do not deserve any of this, ma’am.”

“No, you deserve so much more.” Amy gave him a kiss on his forehead

Uttering such a sentence caused Nate’s legs to lose all strength, falling onto his back. Where he had tried in desperation to mask himself, a flood of tears came pouring out, his eyes turning bloodshot, wailing into hands to stifle and silence his lament. Amy hugged him once more, letting him weep and let all the frustration and the weariness he had endured come out. Just when he began to calm, Amy caressed his head as he snivelled. Tears streaked down his face, which he dabbed away with his rags. He wept, both for Amy’s love and for his past. All the pain of being left on the street, discarded and forgotten, of his previous owner, all the indignities endured, it all came forth. He could not reason why Amy treated him like this. To be left out in the cold darkness, spending the days wracked with hunger until the stabbing pain melded and conjoined the freezing aches when night came, only to then feel the earth-shattering tread of everyone passing him by, ignoring him. Trapped in that small cardboard world, unwanted by anyone, to now come to this. The outpouring of kindness and care made all the trials he had gone through feel so much more acute. In her embrace, basking in the warm glow, Nate felt as though he had transcended. In his mind, nothing short of fate could have conspired for them to meet.

“Please,” he could barely speak, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she whispered in response, “I promise you that.”

As Nate settled down, cleaning his face, his stomach then roared in hunger. He pinched his wasting belly, trying to stop the pangs.

“Listen,” Amy went to rub his cheek to help calm him. Again, he twitched in apprehension but then tilted to his side and leaned on her fingertip. Resting against her, Nate closed his eyes for a moment, a small smile came to his face.  

“Why don't we get you some hot food?”

Uneasy at first, he gave a nod. Amy then Nate slowly drop down her chest, letting him slide against her smooth skin, which ended up with him being deposited between her breasts. Nate blushed so hard that it looked as though he was about to explode, stuttering incomprehensibly. Wedged in her cleavage, the soothing warmth of her body wrapped around him like a blanket. He looked up and saw Amy giggling, cupping her chest and adjusting her boobs until she engulfed the lower half of his body. As he eased in deeper until he felt as though two great soft pillows smothered him from either side, Nate lost his ability to speak, trying to say anything at all. Whilst he did try to protest, he drank deep of the heat, the sublime suppleness that surrounded him, bathing and wallowing within her cleavage. His senses overwhelmed, yearning to dive deeper and become nestled between her breasts, to be placed in such a way that he could never be free from her cleavage, Nate had to fight such an impulse and with a shake of his head, he got his bearings before he lost himself in those salacious thoughts.

“M-Ma’am! Why are you doing this?” Nate cried out, trying to pull himself out. When he pushed down on her breasts, his palms sunk into her, prompting her to titter.

“Well, I’m going to need both my hands to cook, and I’m not going to break my promise by leaving you here.” Amy rubbed his cheek and asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Y-Yes,” Nate gave up the show of struggling, allowing himself to be snug and warm, “I am.”

“Right then!” Clapping her hands together, “Let’s get you something proper to eat!”