Chapter 9

The city of Andergast was covered in fog in the early morning as six long ships, navigating carefully on the river, prepared to dock. The sun had just started to come up, as were the first people in the streets. The city was packed with refugees, beggars and poor people and it reeked of the dirt they brought with them. Living conditions in Andergast had always been a tad on the rough side of things, but the recent developments were tipping the city's climate more and more towards the sour end.

It was situated on the north bank of the river Ingval which connected to the ocean, and the west bank of the river Andra, which joined the Ingval there. Across the Ingval there had been build a fortified bridge which ended on the southern bank into Ingval-castle. Thus, the bridge was protecting the open docks on the river against attacks, requiring no further fortifications behind them. The street to the north end of the bridge was leading just past the bergfried of the King's castle, the seat of King Aele of Andergast. Besides the castle, docks and central marked place, the city was quartered according to the four, most powerful artisan guilds: Metals in the north, leather in the east, textiles in the west and wood, closest to the docks, in the south.

With the king's castle directly beside the docks, the walk to the throne room did not take long.

"Thorsten Haffthor Olafson, of Thorwal, third son of the hetman of hetmen!" The sergeant carrying a halberd announced loudly as they entered the throne room.

"Thank the twelve you are here!" Queen Effine of Andergast exclaimed, rising from her throne.

The woman was utterly unattractive, Thorsten found. There was too much meat on her, hanging from her small stature, and on her face too that was round and puffy. Her thin, blue lips raised no affection and her eyes were utterly without glimmer to them. Her hair was mostly concealed under white cloth, held in place by a golden ring on her head, but from what could be seen, it was thin and strawy and actually missing in some places, not unlike the hair on an old man's head.

"Kneel before the queen." The sergeant grunted but Thorsten had no intention of kneeling.

The Thorwalsh never knelt.

Thorsten stood just over two meters tall, as many of his kinsmen did, and thusly towered over most other people anywhere. He wore traditional waxed sail cloth britches in red and white, held by a broad, brown leather belt, and a sheep skin vest. His muscular chest was covered in coarse, brown hair with the small, silver figure of a whale enthroned upon it that held by a leathern thread around his neck. He was young, so his beard was still not grown fully and fierce, but his wild, strong eyebrows showed that he would grow a fearsome beard to match them soon enough.

The Throwalsh were a proud, seafaring people that loved their freedom above anything else. They loved to fight too, and no one did they like to fight more than the Horasians south of them, for they hunted whales for lamp oil and ambergris. Swafnir, the one and only true god for most Thorwalsh, was a giant white whale himself.

"Your false gods have nothing to do with this." Thorsten said, ignoring the sergant and openly defying the queen, "You called for help. Here we are. Six longships, one hundred and twenty men."

There were more than enough female warriors and shield maidens amongst the fighters he had brought, but to the Thorwalsh that didn't make any difference. They did not regard their women as different or weaker, like most other peoples did.

"A drop of water into a brazier." A robed mage said, stepping into the light. "We were expecting the hetman himself and an army."

"My father and elder siblings are raiding Horas' coastline." Thorsten shrugged. "A punishment for their whaling. They left long before giants were first seen in Thorwal."

Many Thorwalsh superstitiously feared the arcane, but Thorsten did not really believe there was such a thing. The way he saw it, wizards were like the false priests of the twelve gods who liked to read a lot and hide behind others when it came to fighting. Nothing like Swafnir's true servants.

"We need more." The queen said, sinking back on her throne, desperate and frustrated, looking awfully tired in the torch-lit room.

She waved annoyed with her hand and the Sergeant took his leave, snorting furiously.

"Has King Aele let his kingdom grow so weak?" Thorsten commented snidely. "The giants are more dangerous and damaging than wolves, bears or bandits, I admit. But they act mostly alone and never with tactics or organization. They do what they do to sustain themselves."

"Not here." The mage explained sharply. "They operate in groups in our forests, killing or enslaving anyone they can get their hands on, destroying villages and creating chaos. Our city is overrun by refugees and what remains of our garrison gets smaller every day. We are at war."

"Then let King Aele call in his banners and root them out!" Thorsten urged in reply.

A solemn silence befell the room that Thorsten did not understand.

"He tried." The queen said, lowering her gaze. "My husband fell in the battle of Andrafall, along with most of his men."

"We tried to call in more troops but, without the king, the lords are hesitant and prefer keeping their men to themselves. Desertion is rampant everywhere, as is reaving, raping and murder. But that is not the worst." The mage added, darkly. "We have heard of at least two giant creatures that are ten times larger and much deadlier than the other giants."

"An exaggeration, perhaps?" Thorsten suggested hopefully, his snide tone gone.

"That's what we thought at first. But as muddled and confusing the reports are, the two sky high monsters are a common theme. What's more is that the devastations at Andrafall are simply too big, even for an army of common giants." The mage concluded.

"Swafnir, help us." Thorsten muttered, not entirely able yet to wrap his mind around all this.

"We have seen abandoned villages by the river." He went on after a while. "But nothing otherworldly as you describe."

"The worst is north of here." The mage replied. "Take your boats north, up the river to Andrafall and see for yourself, if you dare."

Thorsten did not like to be challenged by a coward.

"You are a protectorate of Gareth, as are we." He declared. "We are bound by treaty to be allies and we will gladly die for you in battle."

Who died in battle dined forever in Swafnir's mead hall under the sea. With this firm belief at heart, no Thorwlash warrior needed to fear death. Some had been known to tremble when the end was near, for all creatures' instincts told them to survive. In general, however, the Thorwalsh were infamous for charging into spear walls with joyful and menacing laughter.

But that didn't mean that they threw their lives away easy, either.

Thorsten's father Olaf, when taken prisoner by a rebellious hetman, had famously convinced his executioners to hold his beard aside so that it not be severed and he still had it, in all it's golden glory, drinking in Swafnir's halls. When the sword fell at his neck he had pulled back so that the hands holding his beard were cut off clean instead. The usurper had been so impressed that he ended his rebellion and renewed his oath with his former hetman of hetmen right then and there. Or at least, that is how the story was told.

"Do not be fools, as my husband was." The queen urged him. "Take from our armouries what you deem necessary and if you must leave the city, make sure you come back in once piece."

"You'd rather we stay here and do nothing?!" Thorsten asked, making sure his tone carried home that he was not going to comply.

"We want you to be here in full strength." The mage said, calmly but stern. "Our city had six thousand inhabitants, give or take, before this nightmare started. Our current estimates approach ten thousand soon, counting the refugees outside the walls. Think of the massacre that will ensue, when the giants hit. Whether they have hundred meter tall monsters or not."

Thorwalsh were not good at defending anything. That's why they only held such a small strip of land by the sea, from where to fish and go raid. If the mighty fleets of Horas came to root them out, they would scatter and rebuild later or, better yet, meet the huge, heavy and barely manoeuvrable hulks, cogs, caracks and war galleys in the open waters and fight them to glorious death. Attack had always been their choice strategy for defence. That was also why they preferred raiding over conquest.

No, Thorsten thought, putting his proud warriors and shield maidens on city walls would not serve.

"What of Gareth?" He asked after a while. "What does the high throne say?"

"Nothing, as of yet." The queen replied bitterly. "But we can't be sure if our riders got through, or if they stuck true to their tasks. They might as well have abandoned us."

"Horas never abandons her allies." A snarky, arrogant voice with Horasian accent said behind Thorsten.

He spun around to the entrance of the throne room and the queen and mage were looking as well.

A man stood there, of slim, average built. Of his face, only a wide, grinning mouth was visible under a broad, black hat, adorned by a white feather. His britches and vest were black too, but under that bulged out a fine white garb with quilling at the hemlines. He seemed to carry nothing but a few different sized leathern sacks on his belt as well as a floret, a long, thin stabbing weapon without a blade.

"Forgive my manners." He continued. "Interrupting you like that without introducing myself. Léon Logue, is my name."

He raised his head and showed them their face. His green eyes were narrow, but very alive, his eyebrows as long and thin as his mouth. His black, shiny hair was slightly curled and reached to his jawbone. On his upper lip, there was a small, perfectly trimmed moustache. Thorsten was at a loss for words.

His grin grew wider when everyone was too startled to speak: "I can see by the looks on your faces that you have not heard of me. Given the dire, backwards state your 'country' is in, I shall not hold a grudge against you for that."

"How dare you speak to the queen like that!" The mage hollerred when he had found his words. "Sergeant, throw this man in a dungeon!"

"Ah, ah, ah." The man mused with a raised, gloved finger. "Be careful whom you make enemies of, Jindrich Welzelin. It might just be the one who could inform the White Guild about your lack of enthusiasm for eliminating druidism and heresy, eh?"

"As for your Sergant," the Horasian calling himself Léon continued, "it seems he has found some unexpected wealth and went to celebrate his luck in the nearest locale."

"We have more guards than you can bribe." The queen cautioned him, more calmly than Thorsten liked.

"Yes." Léon Logue replied with a weary smile. "You have thirty city guard patrolling the streets and one hastily replenished banner of halberdiers. Then of course you have conscripts, rabble and militia. Bowmen! I am sure you were able to draft many from the stream of refugees arriving here, but then again, I hear it's more of a come-and-go attitude at the moment."

"You are well informed." The queen admitted in defeat.

"You forget about us." Thorsten finally said into the room and everyone turned towards him.

He felt insecure all of a sudden.

"By Horas!" The Horasian exclaimed cynically. "You can speak! Why, I had mistaken you for a buttress!"

Thorsten balled his fists.

"No need for that! I apologise." The man mocked. "I know you northerners like to settle your disputes with your hands. Well, if you feel inclined to give that a try, I hereby challenge you to an armed duel of first blood. Who ever wounds their opponent first, wins. That's much better sport than brawling, don't you think? So much more civilized."

"That little toothpick of yours couldn't parry my axe if I swung at you." Thorsten pointed out through his teeth.

The man was much smaller than him, both in height and mass.

"Agreed." Léon said with superior calmness. "Too bad you swing it so slowly I could kill you thrice over and still have time to dance away before it could crash down upon me."

"I forbid you both from killing each other in my city!" The queen blurted out, rising up from her throne, interrupting them.

"You!" She pointed at the Horasian with flaring nostrils. "Tell us why you are here!"

"Yes, Queen Effine." Léon said, bowing his head. "I am here to find my elder brother, Lionel Logue, an adventurer, discoverer and scientist, last seen in these parts. You wouldn't happen to have any information as to his whereabouts, no?"

"I do recall a Lionel Logue, my queen." The mage raised his voice quickly. "Odd fellow. Inquired about giants and where to find them and talked to a lot of people. He said to go north, to Andrafall, as I recall, but has not returned."

"Hmm..." Léon sighed, darkly. "I had somewhat hoped the old fool had gotten himself into one of your dungeons."

"Well." The queen said briskly. "Now that that's settled, you are excused, Léon Logue. We wish you the best of luck with your brother."

"Thank you." He bowed in reply. "But I fear my business in this city is not settled yet. I have challenged this Thorwal brute to a duel and the man has not even had the honour of telling me his name yet. Therefore, let us raise the stakes to second blood, if you're up for it. The first one to lose the ability to fight, has lost."

"My name is Thorsten Haffthor Olafsson." Thorsten said before the queen could protest. "And I will smash your Horasian brains out of your skull."

"That would be third blood then." Léon smiled confidently, equally as quick to reply. "Very well. Let's convene in an hour on the central market."

"I will have the both of you hanged if you do that!" Queen Effine bellowed, full of indignation. "You, Thorsten Haffthor Olafsson, have a city to defend!"

Léon looked perplexed for a second before laughing heartily: "Defend this city against the Pale King? Ha!"

"What are you talking about?! Explain yourself!" The queen inquired angrily after a moment of silence.

"Your outer walls are four meters at the highest." León pointed out. "And you have neither crossbows nor ballistas or catapults on them at all."

"Who is the Pale King?!" The queen specified, one of the eyebrows on her ugly face twitching dangerously.

"Ahhh." He said, soothingly putting his hands up and preparing to back up and explain.

"Well, according to what we know, giants have shown up in small numbers all over the continent." He began. "They have been known to band into tribal structures sometimes, but from no where have our spies reported the level of organization and concentration that they employ in Andergast and bordering Nostria."

He gestured with his hand and went on: "Now, this leads many of his Magnificense's historians and scientists to believe that they have a higher leader here a...king, if you will. As the most ancient scripts and tomes we could get our hands upon tell us, at the time of the giant-wars there was a pale-skinned beast called 'Albino', leading armies of giants into battle, before the earth some day swallowed them all. Their recent re-emergence has some worried that a new age of giant wars might come. Not everyone shares this opinion of course but if the giants are back, their king might be too. We can find no record of him being killed or wounded."

There was another silence.

"Well, of course, we cannot be sure about this." Léon said more lightly after a while. "But I say it is likely, which is precisely why I came to get my brother home, no?"

"If it were true, what would you have us do?" Queen Effine asked meekly.

"A smart man would grab his things and run." He shrugged in response. "A confident queen might pray that her kingdom is just too insignificant and strategically unimportant. A hero might step forth and meet them in the field, beat them while they are still weak, for all humanity's sake. Their lingering in the forests could indicate that they haven't finished gathering sufficient numbers yet."

"I will march and meet them!" Thorsten called out immediately, again, causing everyone to turn towards him.

"You and what army?" Léon sceptically replied. "I have seen your ten dozen on the docks. Fierce warriors all, I have no doubt, when it comes to murdering fishermen and boarding merchants' cogs. But what good are your axes against giants, I wonder? How fares your brittle, northern steel against their skin? Spears and longbows are the best you have against them. To meet them in the field you would need pike walls and heavy crossbows in line formation, pitch fields, traps, firebombs, artillery. Did you know, a huge new sword to two and a half hands has come into fashion with Horasian sell-swords, called the 'Andergaster'? Ironic, isn't it?"

"We know, our military is a little behind on the latest developments." The mage began cautiously. "But Horas has always been on the forefront of new technology, hasn't she?"

"Indeed." The Horasian said, smug and pleased. "That is why the manufactures are working tirelessly, new soldiers are being trained and Nostria is receiving more men and material as per our protectoral agreement than ever before. As I said, Horas never abandons her allies."

"And we do not abandon ours!" Thorsten fell in with as much conviction as he could. "We will set sail today."

"As much as I do not care if you threw your life away," Léon said sharply, almost completely devoid of his arrogant tone, "you must know that you are sailing into your doom!"

"We are not afraid to die." Thorsten countered, allowing himself the superior smile this time.

"You will do no such thing!" The queen protested hysterically. "You will stay here and man our walls!"

"You heard yourself why the city is indefensible." Thorsten shrugged. "If you want to stop us, try. But I think, Gareth would not hold it against me if I sacked this city and returned home after your soldiers attacked mine."

"But where will you go?" The mage implored him. "Where will you start your campaign?"

"You did say north of here was worst, didn't you?" Thorsten replied with a mild smile. "That's where then."

The Horasian sighed and lowered his head for a moment: "If you want to be a fool, be a useful one. Let me go with you, north, to Andrafall."

Thorsten was perplexed: "Did you not say doing that meant death?"

"Yes." Léon Logue replied and raised his head again, showing a thin smile himself. "But would you not die for your brother?"

-

Janna had awoken horny and with an unmistakable urge to kill something. Fingering in her panties for the tiny tavern wench she had left there, she found her first victim of the day missing. Looking everywhere on the bed, she couldn't find her either. Her blanket had slipped partially off the bed during the night, so there had been a reasonable way for the tiny thing to get down but scanning the floor didn't reveal anything. Surely, the tiny thing was around somewhere, hiding.

When Janna looked over at the table, she saw a tiny person waving furiously at her.

As silently as she could, so not to wake Laura, Janna tiptoed over. It was Steve, wearing blue, shiny shorts, running shoes and a white T-shirt. Christina and Valerie were seemingly still in their beds, sleeping. Turning everything upside down for the tiny wench would not serve with Steve onlooking. Janna would have to wait for an opportunity and hope for the best.

"Hey." She greeted the tiny man, whispering.

He had stopped waving and just gaped at her in awe. Not at her face but, as Janna now noticed, her bare breasts.

"Hey!" She scolded him, still not too loudly, and covered herself.

"Good morning, uh, sorry!" He caught himself, scratching the back of his head in shame.

"What's it with you and my boobs, huh?" Janna pushed on, angrily.

"So sorry." Steve explained quickly. "They're just so...really, you can't blame a man for staring at them."

He had a point, Janna thought, feeling a little flattered. The size of her breasts was something she could honestly be proud of. Biting her lip, she took her arm off her chest and uncovered them for him to see. She was worked up and knew she had to be careful not to get carried away. But surely, a little banter wouldn't hurt, plus she really craved feeling good about herself.

"Like 'em?" She whispered seductively after a moment.

He was clearly awkward: "Janna, please don't do this."

"Aww, is my teeny tiny boy getting hard already?" She cooed playfully, happy with herself.

He shook his head: "They're the size of fucking water towers, man. You could kill someone with them."

"Biggest you've ever seen, huh?" She grinned and lowered herself closer to him. "Yeah, I have to be real careful when giving boob jobs."

She gave him a little wink on top of that.

Janna was proud of herself for having said it. Usually, she was coy and timid with boys. It had sounded like something Laura would say, who was so much better with men than her. But then again, her now girlfriend was just so breathtakingly beautiful, no wonder she had so much self esteem. Janna was eager to see if it would have the same effect it had when Laura did it.

"Janna, please, just stop." Steve urged her, averting his head.

"What's wrong?" Janna pouted, still as seductive as she could. "Don't you men like boobs?"

Something inside her really needed his approval. She couldn't have him as a sex slave, but he could still give himself willingly. But even if he only had told her she was 'hot', would have satisfied her. She loved Laura, but her current feelings made her realize that she wasn't a fully grown lesbian yet.

"Yeah, slightly oversized boobs on a slightly undersized girl." He said, still not looking. "Not this."

"Come on." She cooed desperately and leaned even closer to him. "You can touch them if you want. I'll be careful..."

When her breath washed over him, Steve cringed and covered his mouth and nose: "Jesus fucking Christ, what have you eaten!? Smells like death!"

His figure of speech was more true than he knew, but Janna felt offended all the same. At the same time she had to admit that she had not brushed her teeth the night before. No doubt there were still remains of the tiny tavern patrons stuck in between her teeth.

They had been about the size or a little smaller than him, so it made sense for Steve not to find her beautiful. After all, she was one hundred meters tall. A freak. It gnawed away her self-esteem, but the bitter reality was that there was nothing she could do about it. She hated being big for a moment and felt peculiarly like she was losing the ground beneath her feet.

To rinse her mouth, she looked around but found that the Erlenmeyer flask they usually used for filtered water but found that it was empty. Next to it, the dead, ken doll sized giant and the squashed but somehow still alive druid were lying, both of whom Janna hadn't gotten around to inspect further. More problems. Luckily though, they were out of sight for the people on the table.

Sighing defeatedly, she turned around and wanted to slip into her T-shirt which, adding even more to her displeasure, was just too dirty to wear.

"Fuck this." She muttered and took it with her on the way out of the ship.

"Hey wait!" Steve called when she passed the table. "Take me with you! I want to go out!"

"No." She said, matter of factly, feeling a hint of pleasure from being able to deny him as a little punishment for hurting her feelings.

She lingered a moment to see his reaction.

"Seriously, take me outside Janna." He demanded. "I want to take a run."

That explained his attire, Janna thought, but was perplexed too because it seemed very unlikely for someone stranded on a different planet to go jogging. Steve was that sports type of guy though.

"Run here, on the table." She gestured briskly. "It's big enough for you."

"Ey, I can do push ups and everything here, I don't mind, but doing a five K on a fucking metal plate is just balls, man!" He countered, sounding rather displeased. "I make one every morning. No exceptions."

"Well, looks like you are going to have to make an exception because I'm not taking you out." She replied, uncaring.

She was in power and she loved it but this tiny man was seemingly not willing to accept that.

"Why are you being such a bitch?!" He fell out at her.

Janna had to swallow before she believed her ears. She had lingered to hear him protesting and let him run against a brick wall, but this was far, far over the top.

"What did you just say?!" She whispered threateningly and took a step towards him.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." Steve raised his arms but did not sound nearly sincere enough for Janna. "But seriously, you guys take us here and then you won't let us out. It's like kidnapping! I have rights, you know? Take me outside, now!"

Janna's voice was shaking with anger: "First, you don't have any rights, because you are the size of a bug. Second, you will fucking do what I say, because you are tiny and insignificant to me. And third, you will apologize on your knees right now and if you call me a bitch ever again, I will fucking kill you."

By the time she finished, her face had gotten threateningly close to him but Steve looked utterly unimpressed.

Crosing his arms, he spat: "No! Fuck you! Take me outside and you will apologize for threatening to kill me!"

Janna felt the sudden urge to just slap the table and squish him like the pesky little fly he was. She had to remind herself that he was off limits. There was a way, she knew, to defuse the situation, but that would not nurse her wounded pride. And it was wounded dangerously right now.

"Apologize and we are good." She said softly and calmly as she could, reaching him an olive branch.

"No!" He replied defiantly. "If you think you can bully me around because you are as tall as a skyscraper, I'm sorry, but that makes you a fucking bitch!"

A split second later, Janna had snatched him off the table and placed him on the floor at her feet. She stomped the ground, hard, causing him to lose balance and fall on his behind.

"Can't bully you, huh?!" She stomped again, closer to him. "Can't bully you?! What's wrong little bug, you scared?"

She stomped a last time and grinned with satisfaction when he shrieked in terror. Laura, turning in her bed, caught Janna's eye and she suddenly remembered the two other sleeping girls too. Biting her tongue, she stood still and listened but as through some kind of miracle, her stomping didn't seem to have woken any of them. The only thing she could hear was Steve, whimpering at her feet. Her anger melted within seconds as the reality of what she had done began to sink in.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Steve." She whispered and crouched down to pick him up.

She needed him to forgive her and shut up about the incident. Besides that, she was genuinely sorry.

Crying harder, he crawled away from her fingers and she let him for a moment before she took him gently and lifted him up. Following an instinct and what she knew about biology, she cupped him against the nipple of her breast and talked soothingly to him.

"I'm so sorry." She cooed. "I never wanted to hurt you. I lost it and wanted to scare you."

The effect might have been amplified because of her size, but comfortable warmth and scent worked their wonders surprisingly quick.

"I'm sorry too." Steve said, wiping his tears away. "You're not a bitch, I...I should never have said that."

Janna was satisfied with that.

"That's okay." She replied understandingly. "I should've just done what you wanted. I only wanted to keep you here because it is dangerous out there, you know?"

"I can manage the locals I think." Steve said, his voice growing less whimpering and pathetic and more manly again.

"Look at this." She said and reached over for the corpse of the giant. "These guys are out there and they want to hurt tiny people like you."

With the rot setting in, the ken doll sized man looked scary, even to Janna. She put him back and wiped her hand on her butt, quickly.

"Holy fuck!" He exclaimed.

"You get it, don't you?" She asked Steve sincerely.

"Yeah." Came the bitter reply after a moment. "Damn, he looks mean."

"The life ones are meaner, trust me." Janna chuckled.

There was a silence and she was unsure how to ask and make sure that Steve would remain silent about the incident. She couldn't leave before being sure.

"Look..." She said after a while. "I feel horrible. Let me make it up by watching over you while you go on that run."

"Nah, that's okay." Steve declined. "You were just on your way out doing something and...I shouldn't be so selfish. Just put me down, I'll make some jumping jacks or something."

"No." Janna insisted. "I really want to make it up to you. I was just going to the lake to bathe, get water and wash my stuff. That can wait, really. I mean, our ship's not going to fly anywhere any time soon."

She showed him a friendly smile in the hopes of convincing him.

"Hey!" He called out, suddenly, as though he hit a brain wave. "If there's a lake, let me swim a few a rounds, that's cool. That way we both get what we want!"

All the way to the lake behind the space ship Janna held Steve closed in her fist. He would see Laura's village eventually, she foretold, but now was not the time. When she looked at it from the distance however, she noticed the giant corpses lying around. First she thought Nagash was one of them, but then she saw the tiny giantess, already at crane duty.

She was conflicted. On the one hand she was curious as to what had happened. On, or rather in the other hand, was Steve, and she just couldn't put him back into the ship now. He had priority, she decided and continued to the lake only to discover the next problem.

Villagers were there, fishing with rods, no doubt at work to collect food for her and Laura. Of the approximately twenty men, women and children, all but six dropped their gear and ran off into the woods in terror. The remainder gaped up at her in terror before they bowed down in a gesture of worship.

"Spare us, goddess!" One woman called up at Janna. "We serve at your pleasure!"

Under different circumstances, Janna would have turned the people into toe jam and thought nothing of it but now she was insecure and didn't know what to do. Steve wriggled impatiently in her fist. No doubt, he had noticed that Janna was not walking any more. After a few seconds, she just opened her hand a little and peered inside.

"Finally!" Steve called out. "I'm suffocating in here! What's the hold up, are we there yet?"

"Yeah, umm..." Janna began before she had properly formulated her thoughts. "There's people."

"You mean, like, locals?" Steve was aghast.

"What should we do?" She asked insecurely in response, deciding it was best to let him call the shots this time.

Janna had messed up enough for one morning.

"What are they doing?" He inquired immediately, springing to action.

"Some ran away..." Janna began to explain. "Others are...praying. I think they think I'm a goddess."

"Oh man, of course they do!" Steve said angrily. "Have you forgotten how big you are?! Let's get out of here, you've probably caused irreparable damage already!"

"But I can't get out of here, this is our lake." Janna explained. "We wash here and take our drinking water and stuff."

"You drink the water you wash in? That's harsh!" Steve commented. "Why are there people here anyway?"

The question made sense and Janna could only think of one way to explain it sufficiently.

"They're from the nearby village." She said, knowing she would have to give a more thorough explanation. "They know us, they give us food sometimes and we protect them. Not by the book, I know, but they are so close they can't help to see us every day as we come and go, so..."

"I see." Steve called out of her hand and seemed to think about it for a second. "Well, if they already know you, it's alright, I guess?"

"I guess." Janna echoed with a shrug.

Unsure what to do next, she simply crouched down and set Steve on the ground in between the villagers and her feet. Upon seeing the young man with his strange haircut and shiny blue shorts, they stopped bowing to their goddess and stood, looking at him. Some took a few steps forward and seemed curious but superstitious fear seemed to win eventually and keep them at a safe distance to him.

"They seem to fear me more than you." Steve observed perplexed.

"I think they are just very...conservative here." Janna suggested almost apologetically.

"Hello!" Steve called at the villagers and raised his hand as a gesture of greeting.

They looked at him suspiciously, but one returned the gesture after a while and, encouraged, Steve dared to make a few steps forward.

"Steve." He over-pronounced his name and pointed at himself.

"What is this man, goddess?" The man who had returned the gesture called at Janna. "Is he not of sound mind? What do you want us to do with him?"

"What did he say?" Steve asked enthusiastically and turned towards Janna as well.

"They think you are a retard." She giggled heartily. "Can't blame 'em."

It felt good to laugh and it lightened the tension of earlier a little.

Steve grinned sheepishly: "This sucks, how did you learn their language so quickly?"

Janna shrugged in response: "It's real easy actually. We started by pointing at things and learning the names for them. After that it was just listening for the grammar."

"But then again," She laughed, "they probably took us more seriously than you."

"Tree." Steve said, over-pronouncing and pointing at the forest.

They looked at him and then at Janna again, seeking guidance.

"Fuck, I feel like an idiot doing this while you stand next to me." Steve pouted.

Janna was still giggling: "Your first meeting with extraterrestrials didn't go as planned, huh?"

She actually felt sorry for him. It was such a big moment and it turned out ruined and awkward. Deciding to let him struggle for a while longer, she threw her T-shirt into the lake, filled the Erlenmeyer flask and finally slipped into the water herself.

What was actually an average sized lake for Steve was but a longer garden pond for her. When she sat upright in the middle the water barely reached her nipples. It was a little less than luke-warm.

"Tree!" Steve said again but the people still would not answer him.

They nattered amongst each other before a woman addressed Janna: "Goddess, please give us wisdom! Why does this man not speak the common tongue? Is he of a place, far away? We beg you to enlighten us!"

"Should I tell them to teach you?" Janna asked Steve.

That was a bad idea, she noticed as soon as she said it. If he learned the language as quickly as she and Laura had, Steve would know very soon what they had done to the little people. That would look bad, particularly in the light of what she had done earlier.

"Not now." Steve said, disappointed. "I came here to swim. No exceptions."

And with that he slipped out of his T-Shirt and jumped right into the water. His upper body was impressive from what Janna could see. He didn't have the ridiculous muscle-mountains that many body builders had, but a great deal of definition and contours. He didn't look like a balloon inflated with steroids, more like a normal man that someone had improved a little. Janna took great pleasure in watching him swim, even though her craving lust of before had vanished.

He was quick, swimming to the far end of the lake and back, butterfly style. People who swam butterfly had always impressed Janna. He didn't mind her at all, absent-mindedly washing her shirt, and swam by her to the other end and turned around again. Even the villagers, standing somewhat forlorn on the bank, seemed impressed with his swimming, debating and pointing occasionally. Janna wondered if they could swim at all.

That gave her an idea.

"Who of you can do this?" She asked them, gesturing at Steve who took no notice at all.

They had a bit of a natter after which the woman who had spoken before too asked: "I humbly beg your forgiveness, oh goddess! Do you mean swimming like him or swimming at all?"

None of them could do the butterfly, Janna had figured out that much just by watching them.

"Swimming." She clarified. "Who is your fastest swimmer?"

A man stepped forward, a bit taller than the others but still smaller than Steve. He had short brown hair and bushy eyebrows and looked rather average, the only slightly striking thing about him being his bushy moustache.

Steve was still going adamantly about it, taking no rest and paying neither the other tinies nor Janna any heed.

"Get into the water." Janna commanded. "You will race him. If you win...I will not eat you and the others."

Steve did not speak the local tongue and was not listening anyway.

They patted the man on the back a few times while he abandoned his ragged shirt. All of them looked gravely concerned, for they saw how fast Steve was. When the man entered the water, Janna blocked Steve's path with her hand.

"Hey!" He shouted angrily when he came up from a dive.

No man liked it when a woman interrupted his hobby.

"You have a challenger." Janna told him calmly. "This one wants to race you."

"...kay." Steve shrugged after mustering the guy. "How many lengths?"

"One should be enough." Janna decided and gently pushed the two contestants to her designated starting point.

"To the other far end of the lake." Janna explained to the man with the moustache who looked absolutely terrified. "Go!"

"Hey!" Steve shouted again as his opponent started ahead of him.

The villagers on the bank were cheering but within four pulls Steve was already even. The local man swam a pathetic, improvised mix of frog style and dog paddling. He was not slow by normal standards, Janna judged, but lacked all the grace and ultimately also the speed of the butterfly.

When Steve had overtaken the man by one length, Janna suddenly saw his opponents hand on his ankle, pulling him back. She couldn't help but giggle again. Steve protested and wriggled free, of course, but the man kept fighting unsportsmanlike and Steve continued cursing at him, not knowing what was at stake for the man.

After a while they were even again but didn't make much in terms of way towards the goal line during that time. Then, finally, Steve freed himself and rushed off like a mad man, reaching the goal line three lengths ahead.

"Fair player wins! Woooo!" He announced proudly while the villagers on the bank started crying and hugging each other, clearly not expecting any mercy from Janna, of all people. In truth, though, she couldn't hurt a single hair on their heads, while she was with Steve.

But then, suddenly, all hell broke lose.

When the other neared the goal line he didn't swim past Steve but straight at him, opening with a sudden punch to the young man's face that sent the water splashing.

They were fighting hard there in the water, exchanging punches and pulling each other under. Janna couldn't see who was on top and even who was who at some times. Then, both were gone, under water. Turning around each other, they were grabbing and wrestling at each other's throats and faces. It was not easy to see and only distorted, from above. Janna had not foreseen this reaction at all.

Perplexed and in shock, it also occurred much too late to her that she was the only one there who could pull them out.

When she reached for them, she felt them briefly but they slipped away through the water. She had to grab a couple of times, before she got a hold of one of them. When she opened her fist, she saw Steve, on all fourths, coughing and dripping with water, bleeding from his nose. She was relieved.

"What's wrong with that guy?!" Steve cried, still coughing. "He tried to fucking kill me, man!"

Of course, Janna thought, he is mad. In his opinion, Steve, by winning, had just doomed them all to her belly. He couldn't know Janna wouldn't follow through with her threat.

To her surprise though, the other man had not resurfaced yet. Her hand, reaching for the strugglers the first time, had kicked up mud and debris from the ground, muddying the water so she had to reach around blindly for a minute until she found the man. When she lifted him out, he was unmoving.

"Fuck!" Steve cried out when Janna held her hands together to show him.

He rushed over and touched the man, shook him, talked to him and began reanimation.

"Twenty two, twenty three, twenty four...", He counted, while pushing on the man's chest.

"Come on!", He cried desperately and blew two mouths full of air into the man's lungs before starting another round of thirty pushes on his chest.

Janna watched it for what seemed like an eternity.

"He's dead." She whispered after what had probably been three minutes.

"No!" Steve cried in disbelief but his pushes grew feebler with every one.

Finally, he collapsed in Janna's hand on the dead man's chest and whimpered. Janna felt a strong urge to cup him against her breast again.

"Shhhh, it's alright. It wasn't your fault." She cooed, softly.

Steve lifted his head off the man's chest and looked at her with a thousand mile stare. Blood and snot were running from his nose and his eyes were blue lined and dark.

"I killed this man!" He cried pathetically. "Do you know what that feels like?! No, you don't!"

Janna stared back, baffled, before she involuntarily chuckled straight in his face.

"This isn't funny, you fucking idiot!" He screamed at her and collapsed again.

She had been taken aback for a moment but caught herself and switched gears.

"First of all," she reasoned softly, "he may look like a man, but he is an alien. Remember that. Also, he attacked you. Besides," she smiled at the fact that she had finally found leverage on him, "no one will ever know."

Steve stopped whimpering in a peculiar sort of way and looked back at her. Then his eyes fell on the locals, still crying and hugging, and he lost it again.

"They saw everything!" He wailed and gestured at them. "They'll tell everybody. I'm going to be the evil anthropologist that killed a poor Indian! On his first fucking contact with them too!"

Janna bit her tongue: "That's only if they are still able to tell."

Slowly his head turned towards her as the implications of her words settled in.

"Oooh no!" He called suddenly when he had fully understood what she was suggesting. "We can't do that, that's wrong!"

This was turning into something Janna could enjoy.

"Your call, killer." She shrugged in response. "I won't do anything unless you say the word. And I would only be doing this for you, so that your reputation remains intact and that you can go, with Christina, and start explore their culture and stuff. I don't know if the others will even talk to you if this story spreads."

Steve pulled at his own hair as though he wanted to rip it out with the skin, torturing himself.

"But it was self defence!" He cried meekly. "He just wouldn't let go! I wanted to swim back up but he...and I was running out of breath...so I grabbed his throat and..."

"I don't even think they have 'self defence' here." Janna pondered, playfully. "Interesting question, though. I would guess, to them, it looks like strange, evil foreigner kills one of their friends. And that's how they are going to tell the story. Ironic, isn't it, how the most primitive savages sometimes turn out to be the biggest xenophobes?"

"But they are still people!" He pleaded, audibly in conflict with himself.

"Okay." She conceded with another shrug. "I was just concerned about your future, is all. You wanna let 'em go, let 'em go! I wouldn't have my future ruined by some backwards-ass aliens though. Do you want me to throw the body into the forest or should I give it to the villagers for burial, so that they have some nice proof to fit their story?"

He was silent, kneeling in the palm of her hand his head bowed and his hands balled to fists, resting on the dead man's chest.

"You really think we should kill them?" He asked after while, a futile attempt to divide the burden of responsibility away from him.

Janna didn't really care either way. She and Laura had killed so many already that it was too late to care about how they were percieved, once rescue would arrive. But she wouldn't let Steve weasel out of this moral dilemma either, so she remained silent.

"Do it." He sighed after another while, unable to look upwards from all the guilt he was feeling.

"Come again?" Janna asked to rub it in a little.

"Do it! Make them disappear!" He screamed into his hands, his voice breaking a little, yet loud and determined.

Of course, in his state of mind, he couldn't have seen coming what Janna would do next. The game wasn't over yet. The villagers were cowering by then, absolutely at a loss as to why Janna hadn't eaten them yet. Why they didn't run like the others, Janna couldn't tell. Perhaps they thought that it would facilitate their deaths.

"Okay, umm." She played as insecurely as possible. "How do I do this?"

He looked up at her, in his eyes was that thousand yards stare again and he shook his head in disgust of his own words: "You weigh twelve thousand nine hundred tons, Janna. Figure something out."

"So, I should crush them?" She asked feebly. "Like, step on them or something?"

The weakness in her voice seemed to give Steve a little strength back. He looked up and seemed to think a little clearer. Janna could almost see how it dawned upon him that she, according to his knowledge, had never killed anybody. Something that he had now more experience with than she.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Wouldn't that leave...traces? What if Laura uses the lake?"

"I don't want to eat them!" Janna said quickly.

Not that she didn't dare to, but she had to continue playing hesitant.

"Of course not. Umm..." Steve made and stood up, scratching his head. "Maybe bury them?"

"Alive?!" Janna asked aghast.

"No, that would be too cruel." He followed up, quickly. "Uhh..."

He scratched his head again and looked around, searching for answers.

"Look." He said after a while. "Dig a hole here by the lake where the ground is all crushed anyway. You put them in, close it up, step on it a few times. Quick death, end of story."

Once morals were over board, human minds looked frighteningly rational at killing. Janna let Steve hop off her hand into the water and stood up but made herself hesitate again and tremble.

"I'm not sure I can do this." She displayed, looking downwards insecurely at the tiny men and women Steve would have her murder for his career.

"Janna, please, you have to! Just...think of them as bugs!" He urged her from below, the terror in his voice changing more and more to desperation.

She made herself swallow hard.

Behind the group she dragged her hand through the ground once, creating a ditch already large enough to contain them all. There were still some roots and things like that in the ground, but nothing that could give her any meaningful resistance.

The villagers didn't seem to know what to make of this until she dropped the dead body inside. They seemed relieved at first but that only lasted until her hand came and pushed them, all together, into the ditch as well.

It was not deep enough to prevent them from escaping though, and as their survival instincts took over, two tried to crawl out. With equally as many gentle flicks, they were back in their grave and Janna quickly dragged the hand full of earth over them, that she had taken out to create the ditch.

"Mercy!" Was one woman's last cry before she was buried.

A handful of dirt, to her, was evidently enough already to kill them. They were suffocating in there, she knew, but she'd rather they were suffocating under her.

"Crush them!" Steve called up, reminding her.

Janna lifted her foot over the grave but put it down again, settling instead for turning around and sitting down, purposefully slowly. The soft earth compressed under her buttocks and finally, there was the satisfaction she craved. Poor little bastards, she thought. Crushed to paste under a twelve thousand nine hundred thirty seven ton college girl. No doubt their bodies were becoming more mingled with the compacted earth around them with every heartbeat she sat on them.

"Are you okay?" Steve called up at her, treading water next to right leg that rose out of the water like the pier of some highway bridge.

He didn't look as woebegone as Janna expected. Apparently, killing one man in self defence was not so far from having five more crushed to death while buried alive when one's career was at stake.

"Do you think they are dead?" She asked, looking down between her legs.

"Yeah..." Steve nodded bitterly. "They're dirt."

She lifted herself and slipped back into the water. Her butt had left a clear imprint on the bank of the lake but of the tiny people nothing could be seen.

"Are you really okay?" He asked again after swimming in front of her.

"Yeah." Janna shrugged. "You said, think of them as bugs, and that's what I did. Just like that."

"That's fucking scary." He observed.

"Hey, I did this for you, okay?!" She snapped at him.

He remained silent for a while, still treading water.

"Can we...not talk about this ever again?" He said hesitantly, looking up at her.

"And not to anyone, ever." Janna promised and reached him a finger to shake.

The tiny man had to settle for a fist bump because her finger was almost one meter in diameter. She found it so amusing that she proceeded to push him down, under water. He went effortlessly.

"Hey, haha!" He laughed when he came back up and Janna laughed back.

Some harmless playing would release the dim gravity of the earlier business, she decided, and made sure that Steve had sufficient time to catch himself before pushing him under again. He seemed to like it. On the last push, he held onto Janna's finger with his arms and legs and she lifted him up to her face.

"Haha, you're just like a baby frog." She teased him.

"No." He grinned back. "You are a sea monster! Catch me if you can!"

Janna's hand was raised between fifteen and twenty meters above the water, but Steve stood up on her finger and jumped, plunging head first into the wet. After that he dove away from her, unhurt.

Playing along, she lunged forward on all fourths, tracking him from above. It was amazing how long Steve could hold his breath. Eventually, though, he had to come up and Janna greeted him with her open mouth, snatching him up in between her lips. His head and torso were inside her mouth, while his legs were outside, kicking.

"Woa, hey!" She could hear him scream, still playfully though, just a little bit scared.

She took him by the legs and lifted him above her head, grinning at him.

"Oh my, has the sea monster caught a little frog man." She mused from below. "Mhh, I'm gonna eat you, little frog man."

"Never!" He called heroically and pulled himself up her finger.

Janna released her grip on his legs, so that he could pull himself up completely. Then she hovered her hand over her open mouth and turned it, so that the tiny man had to move constantly and climb over her fingers. It was all in good fun but the power she had over him made Janna become aroused again. Inconspiciously, she snuck her free hand into her panties under water and played with herself while she played with Steve.

A pant escaped her lips but he did seem to have heard it and went right on.

When he was just been climbing over her index finger, Janna pinned him with her thumb and brought him down to her mouth, where she licked straight across his body. He began protesting something, but Janna's tongue drowned his words. She could feel him nicely with her tongue. His muscular chest, arms and legs. His cock...

She wasn't sure if he still thought this was a game, but she was far too deep into play mode to stop.

Her breath quickened while she licked him a last time, before she shoved him past her lips and began to suck on him. She did it gently and carefully, so not to rip his tiny body apart by the forces. He tumbled around her tongue, helpless, only getting fresh air when she gasped or moaned. She put him through that for maybe three minutes before she was satisfied.

Panting, she took him out of her mouth. He seemed unhurt, physically, but looked at her insecurely and afraid.

"Awww, what's wrong, tiny frogman?" She asked playfully. "Scared of the big sea monster?"

"Did you just get yourself off?" Came his dry response.

"No, I was just playing." She lied. "You have a really interesting taste by the way."

"I overdid it a little, didn't I?" She asked after he said nothing, to which he only nodded.

"Well." Janna shrugged. "Chalk that up on the list of things we never ever talk about again."

Feeling good about herself, she cupped Steve against her breast, reclined in the water and touched herself gently in between the legs, soaking.