I’m Andy Parker, twenty-six years old, and at first I might sound just like any other guy. I’ve got brown hair and brown eyes and I’m usually clean-shaven. I’m a bit on the skinny side: though I eat quite a lot and exercise whenever there’s time, it seems to have little effect. Also, I’m 2’ 3” tall.

That’s right; I measure a grand total of 27 inches from head to toe. So I’m a midget, but every part of me is completely in proportion to the rest of me, almost as if I were a regular person who’d been shrunk down in size. I weigh seven pounds and two ounces, and my height and weight have remained unchanged since I was eighteen. Naturally, my mom and dad had lots and lots of doctors examine me, but there was nothing anyone could do. I would just have to go through life less than half as tall as everyone else. There are worse things than that, I’m sure.

My parents were of course very protective of me. They kept me out of school and had me taught at home. I wasn’t allowed to go outside on my own, and I certainly didn’t have any friends throughout my childhood. The only people I talked to on a regular basis were all family members, apart from the two or three teachers who homeschooled me.

When I turned eighteen, my dad promised me he’d try and find a job for me, but nothing came of his promise. We both thought that it was best that I stayed with my parents as long as it was possible. However, it didn’t turn out so well. Mom and Dad both died in a plane crash just as they were returning from a vacation in Europe. I was living with my grandpa at the time, and when I heard the sad news I felt as if my life was well and truly over.

Of course, it wasn’t over, and, seven years later, I’m still living with my grandpa. He’s become a bit strange in his old age, and sometimes he doesn’t appear to recognize me, so he and I don’t talk much. I hardly ever go to his house, since I live in a small building near the fence in the backyard, which used to be a tool shed. It now contains my bed, my clothes cupboard, my computer, a TV, and all sorts of other stuff that makes my life easier. My parents did leave me quite a bit of money, but it won’t last forever, and I don’t want to keep asking my grandpa to buy me food and things. I’m still looking for a job, preferably one which involves writing articles or stories, something I consider myself pretty good at.

I do my own shopping, mostly at a grocery store near the corner of the block, run by an old couple who know me and are always eager to help me. I keep my head down when I walk, avoiding the staring eyes of all the giants who pass me by. I usually wear little kids’ clothes (they’re the only things that remotely fit me, though even clothes for a two-year-old are way too big for me), and wear a cap on my head, so most people who see me think I’m a little boy, out shopping for his mom, or something like that.

Except for one particular group of people. A group of neighbourhood boys, aged fourteen to sixteen, like to hang out in the street which runs behind my place. It’s a very quiet street, so it’s an ideal place to ride around with bikes, or play soccer. The first time one of them saw me was when he accidentally kicked his soccer ball in my direction. It hit me in the stomach and knocked me over. The boy came up to me to see if I was hurt. I tried to leave quickly, but it wasn’t quickly enough. He saw that I was no ordinary ‘kid’, grabbed hold of me, and took me against my will, to show me to his friends.

Since then I’ve dreaded the thought of walking that street again. The gang of teenage boys always seemed to be there, waiting for me, as if they had nothing better to do. Even the shortest one among them was more than twice my height, and many times my wait. I couldn’t outrun them, and, for many months, I endured a weekly session of humiliation, being roughly handled, wrestled, and sometimes even thrown through the air and caught again. These sessions usually ended with me crying, something I’m utterly ashamed of, but which I couldn’t help. The boys would then mock me and call me all sorts of supposedly funny names, before letting me leave.

One winter’s day, near the middle of January, I returned from the shop as usual. I’d been sick for some time, so I was glad to get out of the house and get some fresh air. It’s also been a while since those nasty kids had last tortured me; they’ve all gone away on vacation, I assumed, and maybe they were still away. But I was wrong: when I got within sight of my house, I saw them waiting for me.

The oldest of the group, whose name was Sam, began to approach me. I dropped my shopping bag and began to run in the direction of my house. But Sam was there first, and he cut off my escape route. I turned around and tried to run somewhere else, but he’d already grabbed me by the back of my jacket. He yanked me off the ground and dangled me in front of his face.

“Missed me?” he said, smiling in a most unpleasant way. “How come we didn’t see you last week, huh? Trying to avoid us, weren’t you? You little fuck!”

“I was sick!” I yelled, hoping against hope that some passer-by would come and end this. “Why don’t you leave me alone, Sam? I’ve done nothing against you!”

Sam laughed and gave me a punch in the stomach. The other boys had gathered round us, and I could tell that many of them were looking forward to having some ‘fun’ with me.

“Leave you alone?” Sam sniggered. “What makes you think we’ll listen to you, freak? I mean, you’re a grown-up, right?”

“Yes, I am!” I said desperately. The gang all laughed again, and Sam swung me around a little. I could already see where this was going, and didn’t like it one bit.

“Ooh, I’m really scared!” Sam said. “Seriously, man, you’re scaring the shit out of me! So what are you waiting for, big boy? Come on and get me!”

He threw me down onto the cold, hard sidewalk. I tried to land on my feet, but in doing so I twisted my ankle and howled in pain. As I was lying there, trying desperately not to cry again and make an even bigger ass out of myself, Sam began to poke me with his foot. I wanted to tell him to stop, but only a few whimpers escaped my lips. Just then I heard a woman’s voice shouting for him to stop. Sam turned around, and I heard him exclaim: “Whoa, what the fuck?”

From my low point of view I couldn’t get a good look at the newcomer, but I did realize one thing: she (it was clearly a woman) was fucking huge! She towered over all of the boys, who were all about as tall as her waist. That meant she had to be at least eight or nine feet tall! She grabbed the dumbfounded Sam by the front of his jacket and lifted him with one hand. With her other hand she gave him a punch in the gut, just like he had given me. He screamed and tried to fight back, but he was no match for her superior size and strength. She let go of him just as two of the older boys jumped for her legs and tried to tackle her. One by one she shook them off her legs, then lifted them both up at the same time and slammed them into each other. There were more screams and curses, and, just like that, the gang of bullies ran off, leaving me alone with this giant.

“What’s the matter?” she yelled after them. “Can’t handle a big girl like me? Pussies!”

I lay quivering on the ground as the woman stood over me, looking down at me with an amused expression. Now that things had quieted down I could get a good look at her, and what sight it was! She looked about the same age as me, or perhaps a little younger, I couldn’t tell. She was wearing black boots with grey stockings, a knee-length black skirt, and a grey tweed coat, and she carried a small leather purse. She had a seemingly perfect figure, with well-defined hips, and even beneath her coat I could see that her breasts were pretty big. Her face was drop-dead gorgeous, with brown eyes and luscious red lips, and her hair was long and flame red. Her great height was difficult to guess, but I reckoned that if I stood up I would be no taller than her knee.

“Oh my God!” she said, bending down to look at me. “Are you for real? Holy shit!”

I hastily tried to stand up, but my ankle was unbelievably painful, and I quickly fell down on my butt again. I crawled pathetically over to my shopping bag as the monster-sized woman leaned down even further.

“Need some help, little man?” she asked. “It’s all right, I won’t eat you!”

“N-n-no th-thanks,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. This was not a comfortable position at all for me, and I just wanted her to leave without any further humiliation taking place.

“Really? You don’t want my help? Oh, that’s too bad, ‘cause I’m going to help you in any case. Where do you live?”

“O-o-over th-there,” I stammered, pointing in the direction of my house. There was no hiding my discomfort now, so I just gazed at the ground and held on to my bag. A great pair of hands, clad in pink woollen gloves, reached down and grabbed hold of my body. Then I was lifted up, as easily as if I were a newborn baby.

I had never been touched by a girl before. I had hardly ever been near a girl of my own age before. Like any other man, however, I found girls physically attractive, and I liked to jack off every now and then while fantasizing about them. In my fantasies I was always the dominant one, and the girl was always smaller than me. In real life, however, all girls were much taller than me, and I was scared to death of talking to them, let alone getting close to them in other ways.

Now I was in the arms of a very large, very attractive girl, who was easily four times my height. She held me against her chest with one arm, pressing me tightly into her coat. Her scent was intoxicating, and I was aware that directly beneath my chest was one of her breasts. I immediately got a massive erection, and tried desperately to think of something else to make it disappear. It didn’t help that her soft, sexy hair was draped across her shoulder and hanging down over my head. To some other guy, perhaps, this might not have been a big deal, but to me – well, I might just as well be lying in her bed and having sex with her.