------ Chapter 11 ------
Like some immense castle gatehouse, Ms. Bianchi’s sizeable front door slowly opened, swinging away from me in an ominous fashion. Outside light flooded in and filled the doorframe, with dramatic yellow backlighting provided from inside the home. As I gaped upwards, a remarkably gargantuan female form filled the doorway, illuminated from all sides as my teacher stepped into view, her footfalls thundering with a percussive rumble against the vast hardwood floor.
A daunting combination of femininity, beauty, and mass stood before me. I was utterly dwarfed by the statuesque woman, who seemed even larger now that she was outside of the classroom. While I was sure that she meant me no harm, I still began to feel an appropriate level of fear brought on by our difference in size. Apprehension gripped me, and in spite of my best efforts to hide my trepidation, a shiver shot through my knees at the sight of my teacher’s considerable mass.
Expectantly, Ms. Bianchi gazed down at me from on high, both hands resting on her voluptuous hips. In response, I meekly smiled and gave a shy little wave.
“Hey Ms. Bianchi.” I began to feel myself sweating, as the anxiety and nervousness of the situation began to take its toll on my nerves. Being unused to a world where all the women were the size of small buildings was stressful.
My teacher returned my smile, and swept one of her huge arms through the air in a beckoning gesture. “Well hello there. Come inside, Dean!” With one booming step backwards she cordially made way for me to enter- as if I needed the spare room. When she stepped, watched the tiniest tufts of dust fly up from the floor as her gargantuan heel came down, a detail that I was sure I could only perceive because of my decreased stature. While interesting, at that moment it only served to further remind me of my lowly place in this society.
Carefully, I made my way over the threshold of the door and into her home, staring upwards at her the entire time. Despite my innate fear of her, Ms. Bianchi was an absolute goddess, the most beautiful thing I’d ever had the fortune of laying eyes upon. Her loveliness was so profound that it was just as intimidating as her size, and I began to feel my throat tightening as I walked by her. By the end of this meeting I was sure I’d be a nervous wreck.
Without a doubt, I had been enamored with her while at school, yet in her casual attire, she was even more stunning. Ms. Bianchi had changed into some very tight fitting black capris that clung to her queenly, curvaceous thighs. She complemented the look with an equally form fitted top, a low cut teal shirt that hugged the oceanic swell of her bosom. It had always been apparent to everyone that Ms. Bianchi was a considerably busty woman, yet in her professional life she had never worn attire that accentuated that particular aspect of her figure. Now, in this informal meeting with her casual clothes on, one could see the true outline of her substantial bust. Her breasts, impossibly large and round, hovered high above me like overinflated hot air balloons. To say that they were nice to look at would be an understatement.
I made my way past her, and once I was clear, she quietly shut the door behind me. Even though I knew she was being as careful as possible for someone her size, it was as if the enormous bulkhead of her door had been practically slammed shut. It had the effect of cutting off my only escape route. While I knew it wasn’t her intention, the sensation left me feeling like I’d just been trapped, locked away in the vast dungeon of this woman’s home.
“Why don’t we head into the living room then, and I’ll fix us something to drink?” Three booming steps carried Ms. Bianchi far past me, and she gestured in the direction of the living room. “Just find a place to sit in there for the meantime.”
Mindful of my teacher’s man-crushing heels, I made my way around a corner and into her living room- a room the size of an airport hangar. Of course, all the furniture was matched to her scale as well, so I needed to literally climb onto the cushions of her brown leather couch to take a seat. While I waited, I could hear Ms. Bianchi bustling about in the kitchen nearby. I had to readjust myself because I was nearly falling backwards into the soft plushy crack of the leather couch cushion. It was one of those interesting hardships of living in a society not built for my size, and it made me extremely grateful of things I’d enjoyed in my old life. At that moment, I realized that there was much I had taken for granted.
Overall, her house was orderly and scholarly, and in many aesthetic respects it mirrored her office. It was obvious from the first glance that her occupation consisted of some type of educational or academic work. The room smelled meticulously clean, and was dimly lit. There was a fairly extensive bookshelf, a large screen TV (which may as well have been a movie theater screen to me), and a well lit metal work desk that was tucked away in a corner, the top of which was cluttered with half made lesson plans. Ms. Bianchi was probably a very smart woman.
Thunderous steps announced her entrance into the living room, and as she left the kitchen I could see she was carrying a large glass in one hand. It was filled with some sort of mixed drink, likely alcoholic. Walking up next to me, she set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me, flipped on a lamp and prepared to sit on the couch next to me. Her car sized ass plummeted downwards, landing with cushiony thud fairly close to me. The black, thinly stretched fabric of her capri pants seemed to struggle against the girth of her womanly thighs, and I could distinctly make out each detail of the fabric because she had sat so close to me. Additionally, her extensive mass caused the leather surface to bow towards her as her butt buried itself in the couch cushion. This tilted my whole perspective to one side and caused me to involuntarily lean towards her gargantuan thighs. I did my best to offset this chance and keep a respectable distance.
Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders as she leaned closer, to get a better look at me.
“I suppose you are probably wondering why I brought you here?” She mused while taking a long pull from her drink while casting her gaze down at me. Her question seemed almost playful, for the moment it appeared she had dropped the strict teacher routine. I surmised that she wasn’t working anymore, so therefore it wasn’t necessary to maintain her professional reputation. Perhaps tonight I would get the chance to see the real Ms. Bianchi. Her change in demeanor helped put me at ease, and was very welcomed.
I nodded in response. My heart was thumping wildly in my chest at the sight of her, and I couldn’t decide if it was from fear or infatuation. It was likely a mixture of both. Ms. Bianchi flashed a lighthearted grin and continued.
“Let’s just say I’m going to be running some observations on you, little Dean. I want to learn as much as I can about where you came from. In order to do that I’ll need to consistently have you on hand. That means you’ll need to be by my side 24/7, 100 percent of the time. Do you understand what I’m asking?”
I’d have to be with Ms. Bianchi all of the time? The thought excited and intrigued me, but I knew it simply wasn’t a realistic request. Personally, I sort of wanted to comply, but I knew ultimately I would have to turn her down. I knew my response to her demand would need to be as diplomatic as possible.
“Well… on basic principle I guess I follow you,” I muttered meekly, “but what about my family? My mother is going to wonder where I am. Even though I want to help… I don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me.”
Undeterred, Ms. Bianchi took another long pull from her drink and carefully set it down, the percussive effect of this simple action reverberating through my tiny ears. To me, the glass she was drinking out of was larger than most garbage cans, and I was sure it came up well past my waist. The noise it made when she set it down against the hard glass table top was unsettlingly loud, despite her efforts.
“I’ll just declare that you’re my property.” She stated matter-of-factly, and leaned backwards with an overtly satisfied look on her face, as if she’d just won a high stakes card game.
Not her following at all, I cocked my head to the side and squinted up at her. “What…?”
The titanic woman laughed loudly. “You truly aren’t from here, are you? How else could you work up the gumption to question my declaration of ownership?” She raised an eyebrow and shook her head in amusement at what must have been a maverick and ballsy response on my part.
Confused, I couldn’t help but feel like I was somehow majorly disrespecting her in some way. At the moment, the candid shock value was dismissible, but if I continued the conversation in this ignorant manner I had a suspicion that she might get very upset. “I’m sorry if I don’t understand. Could you please explain it to me?”
Ms. Bianchi took yet another drink and smirked. “I guess I should, huh? Ok…” She finished her drink off, again loudly setting the cup on the top of the coffee table.
“When a woman wants a man to be her property, she makes a formal declaration of ownership. Provided that she is larger than the woman who previously owned him, she then gains his custody. When that happens, the man completely belongs to her, and is obligated to see to her needs. Normally, women will declare ownership when they have intentions to mate.”
I nodded while I listened. “Where I’m from we just call that ‘marriage’.”
My monumental teacher squinted like she’d never heard the term, which, considering the state of this matriarchal society, she probably hadn’t. “At any rate, I’m sure I’m far larger than your mother, who no doubt is your current owner. You will live with me until I’m done experimenting on you, where I will then cast you aside and you can move back in with your mother. I’ll get my experiment results, you’ll gain the prestigious reputation of allegedly having mated with a woman as large as myself, your mother will eventually get you back, and everyone will be happy.”
I chewed that over for a few seconds. She made it sound as if it were the answer to everyone’s problems. Still, I was skeptical.
“So let me get this straight… You are going to be my owner, do your observations, and then just drop me?”
“Precisely. Don’t worry, I’m sure some smaller woman than myself will be glad to take you, especially after you have been with me. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve made it this far without ever being claimed. You must have quite the large mother. Too bad she’s not a big as me.”
I suddenly realized several implications of what she was saying. First, it hit me just how critical size was for women in this world. A bigger woman essentially got whatever she wanted. Smaller women had to cater to larger ones. Size directly correlated to power, it formed a visible rank the structure of the social hierarchy, and as a quality it ranked at the top of women’s desirable traits.
Secondly, the lack of visible men in society was probably due in part to this declaration of ownership. Any available man would quickly be snatched up to be the private house slave of some domineering female. It would be in her best interest to keep him tucked away, lest some bigger woman saw him and snatched him up. While I was positive men still weren’t valued in society -being its smallest members- I was sure a personal servant had at least some tangible worth. Otherwise men would probably be much more visible. To me at least, this seemed to be a reasonable conclusion.
Finally, and most importantly, I was excited by the possibility of being with someone like Ms. Bianchi. It was like a dream come true. But I was troubled by the realization that at any moment, when the mood struck her, Ms. Bianchi could cast me aside like garbage. Perhaps it was foolish of me, but I would have felt much more comfortable with a solid commitment from her. I thought that I truly wouldn’t mind having her own me so long as she promised to always own me.
At least, with her size, it was unlikely a bigger woman was going to come along and take me.
My enormous teacher spoke, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “I can see you’re deep in thought. You do realize that I own you now, correct? This isn’t negotiable.”
Processing the gravity of what she was saying, I reluctantly nodded, “Yes, I understand.”
“Then you may want to try being more grateful.” She smirked, amused at my ignorant and flagrant disregard for the norms of her society. “I’ll overlook your disrespectful manner this time, but in the future I’m going to show you what I expect out of you. You’ll be a modern man before we’re through, I promise.”