Chapter Two

Signposts

Teri exited the Humphrey Terminal and looked for the silver Murano that she knew would be waiting. She saw it just a short distance from the doorway, and smiled and waved. She walked quickly through the warm night air to the waiting car, and paused before getting in the passenger door to open up the back.

"Mommy!" called out a cute, black-haired four-year-old that Teri quickly kissed on the forehead. "Hey, Kitty-Kat. How are you?"

"Good. Mike and me went to the Science Museum, and then we had lunch at Burger King!"

"Really?" said Teri, closing the back door and getting in the front, and kissing her fiancé on the lips, softly and quickly. "I thought Mike wasn't going to take you out to dinner as much?"

"Mike wasn't," said the stocky, sandy-haired man in the driver's seat, as he looked and merged into the flow of traffic. "But it was convenient tonight. So, how was Sarah?"

Teri looked out the window, lost slightly in thought. "Not great. She needed someone to talk to, I think. Scott's off on some mission, and Kelly's busy all the time with the primary, and Ronnie…well, I think she's short on confidantes."

"So did she try to recruit you?"

"Yeah," said Teri. "Yeah, she did."

Mike frowned, slightly. "And?"

"Well, she didn't want me to be a field op. She talked about me working in the Chicago office as her Adjutant General."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "You didn't tell her 'no,' did you," he said. It was not a question.

"No," said Teri. "I didn't tell her 'yes,' either, though."

Mike sighed. "Honey, you know I love you, and I want you to be happy—but we've been through this. I mean, it would mean moving us all out of Minnesota, and I'd have to quit 3M, and…."

"She offered us a house, and offered me three times what you make in a year," said Teri, defensively.

Mike scoffed. "Honey, I make about eighty thousand a year."

Teri said, calmly, "I know."

Mike looked at the road ahead for a good minute. "Teri, I just don't know about you getting mixed up in that again. I mean, the last time you were a part of it…well, you know."

Teri looked back at Katrina, who was now dozing lightly in her car seat. "Mike—what would you do if Pete or Chris came to you and told you that they needed your help, that their very lives might depend on it. And that they'd take care of you and your family, but they needed you to help them. What would you do?"

Mike sighed. "I'd talk to you about it."

"I know. But what would you want to do?"

"I'd want to help them. I know. Teri—I'm not sure I like this idea."

"I'm not sure I do, either. But Mike—Sarah would bring you on in a supervisory role in the civilian wing of the Society, if you wanted her to. She's said she'd match your salary with 3M. She wants me back, badly. And I know all the reasons I shouldn't go. But I want to go back. I think," she said, and then stopped.

"You think what?" Mike said after a minute.

"Nothing, nothing," Teri said.

Mike sighed. "You think it's what Jake would want you to do, don't you?"

"What? No, that wasn't—"

"Teri. Please. Look, I know I'm lucky that Jake's dead, because you'd never pick me over him. Don't lie to me. You think this is what Jake would want you to do. Right?"

Teri looked back at Mike, and smiled. "Mike, I'm glad I don't have to choose between you two. Because I don't know who I'd pick, and I don't want to ever have to find out. Yes, I think Jake would want me to. But Jake's dead, and you're going to be my husband. This is something for you and I to decide, together."

Mike smiled back, keeping one eye on the road. "Well, love, I think that we need to sleep on this. Think hard about it. And in the end, if this is something you believe you have to do—I won't stop you. But please, hear me out on why I don't think it's the best idea, okay."

Teri nodded, and looked back out the window. "Okay," she said.

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Zoraida leaned back from her computer and sighed. Almost four-thirty in the morning. Well, at least she didn't have to be into work until four tomorrow afternoon; she could sleep in.

She had written something; it just wasn't something she could sell. For one, she'd written in English, which always left her feeling somewhat incompetent and fumbling (though she actually enjoyed it in a way; her facility with Spanish was strong enough that she rarely fumbled for words. Having to recheck and think about her words carefully helped her writing, she thought. The same held when she wrote in French.)

The more important factor, though, is that what she had written could only be classed as macrophile erotica, and while there was a growing market for that, she didn't really want to become the Cervantes of Giantess Porn.

The story had been cathartic, though. She was able to get the stain of the night's events out, able to get herself cleared. She smiled a bit as she reread it; it was hopeful, she thought, in a way her actions had not been.

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Untitled

By Zoraida Abarca Vivas

Isabella sat down at her table in her kitchen. She was tired. She had worked hard at her job as a waitress, and she was already ready for sleep. She just wanted to finish a light supper, and then she would slumber.

As she ate, she suddenly was aware of a strange feeling. It was the feeling of being watched. She looked around her empty flat, but seeing nobody, she went back to eating.

There it was again, but this time, there was a small sound, like a mouse. She pushed her chair back and stood up, and looked around the room.

There. By the chair. There was just the tiniest bit of movement.

"Not again," she said, walking over to get the rodent. She expected she would have to talk to the building caretaker again. And just five months after the last mouse, too.

She picked up her broom and kneeled down to look for the tiny creature. She saw the scared figure, and she almost felt bad for it. But she could not let her house be overrun by mice. So she started to reach back with the broom handle.

"Please, no!"

She backed up with a start. Had the mouse just talked to her?

She put the broom down and looked in carefully. She saw that it was no mouse hiding behind the chair. It was a tiny person.

Isabella's mouth fell open. She was amazed. She had never seen a tiny person before, except on television. "Please," she said, "come out. I did not mean to scare you. I thought you were a mouse."

The tiny creature walked out carefully. He was eight centimeters tall, wearing only a pair of gray shorts. She saw he was strong and handsome, with dark hair and an unkempt beard.

"Hello," she said to him. "My name is Isabella."

"I am Germán," he said. "I am sorry to intrude, but it was raining outside, and I needed someplace to go."

"Do you need help getting home?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he had been shrunk accidentally. He shook his head.

"I have no home. My parents are dead, and my fiancée—well, she is not my fiancée anymore."

"How did you get so small?"

Germán sighed. "I was tired of the world. Tired of the struggle, of life. After Graciela left me, I just wanted to leave the world of the living. But I did not want to kill myself. I just wanted to go away for a time.

"That was six months ago," he said. "It has been interesting."

Isabella leaned back. "I can hardly imagine," she said. "Well, if you want, you can stay here tonight. Are you hungry? I have some soup if you would like it."

"I would love some," he said, looking up at her. "If it's no trouble."

"You're small. There is plenty for you," the woman said, smiling down at him.

* * *

Through dinner, they talked. Isabella found that Germán was a writer, like herself. He told her of his plans, that six months from now, he would grow back to the size he had been, and then he would write of his experiences. He told her of many of them: of running from two hungry cats, of befriending an old woman at the park, of foraging for food outside a grocery store, of watching giants and giantesses dance the night away at a club, while he hid under a table, watching the girls and wondering when he might be over his love.

For three hours, they talked. And Isabella found something amazing happening.

She was falling in love with him.

He was funny. He was smart. He was sexy, in spite of being smaller than her foot.

No, that was not right. He was sexy because he was smaller than her foot.

And so, as he yawned and stretched, and she did too, she leaned in close. So close that her face must have taken up his entire world. And she said, softly, "Have you been with a woman since you shrunk yourself, Germán?"

She watched as he looked at her, and swallowed. "I, I, I have not," he stuttered, his eyes wide. "I never thought a woman could want me at this size."

"And what if a woman told you she did?"

"I do not know. I do not know what I would do."

"What if I told you I did?"

Germán looked up at Isabella, mouth wide open. After a moment, he asked, simply, "Why?"

"Why would I tell you that? Well, you are brave, funny, handsome, smart, sexy, and you have good taste in literature. That, for me, is quite enough to want to be with someone. Of course, I won't pressure you. But if you are interested…."

Germán looked up at her. She could see him breathing hard. "I have wondered," he said, cautiously, "what it would be like to see a beautiful woman at this size. To try to make her happy. But I fear that I would not be able to satisfy you."

Isabella laughed, and put a kiss on his forehead. "If all else fails, I can satisfy myself. But you are creative. I think you might just be able to do the job."

Germán smiled. "If you are willing to have me," he said.

"Come," Isabella replied. "Let's go to my room."

* * *

He dropped his shorts on her nightstand; she disrobed entirely, and they faced each other.

She smiled as she saw he was already attracted to her. It was tiny, yes, but it was fully erect, and she wondered if she could feel it at all were he to try to insert it.

At any rate, she didn't wait. She grabbed him, and set him astride her right nipple. She heard the yelp from him, but ignored him, and instead leaned back enough that he would not fall.

He reached down, and she stared down, watching his tiny bottom shift as he touched her nipple carefully. She moaned softly. It felt good.

He suddenly pushed himself up, so he stood on her nipple, and he spun around to face her. He slid back down, and she did feel his tiny member as it slid down her breast. It tickled, but in a lovely way.

He smiled up at her. "I want to see you," he said. "I like to see my lovers."

She reached down, and touched his bottom, urging him on. He began to rub himself on her breast, and she lay back on the bed, feeling him push against her, feeling him gratify himself, and feeling her vagina growing moist, knowing how much she presented to him.

He stopped short of orgasm, and instead rolled into the valley between her hills. Standing up, he said, "Those are nice, but I think there's somewhere I should go first—if you will have me there."

"I am yours to survey," she said, with a wink. And so he walked down her stomach to her bush, and slid down her front, causing her to gasp in surprise, even though she knew it was coming.

She felt him turn himself around, and slide his legs in under her. Then she felt his tiny member enter her bottom, while his hands began to caress and stroke her pussy.

She had never enjoyed anal sex, but she found he was endowed in such a way that yes, it did feel nice. And his hands slid over her pussy, which was wetter and wetter, and soon enough he touched her clitoris, and then it was all she could do not to shout with joy, as she felt him pump his tiny load into her behind while he stroked her. And soon enough, she was bathing him in her juice, and soon enough, they were both done, and she lay back, tired and smiling, feeling the tiny man curled up against the hair by her pussy.

She wondered as she fell asleep if he would still be there in the morning, or if he would be gone. She hoped he would stay, but if he had to go, she hoped they would meet again someday. She had enjoyed herself, and she thought he had too.

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Zoraida smiled. It wasn't bad. Oh, she'd written better, and it could probably stand some editing, but she was just giving it away. So she saved the file—changing the title to "One Night Stand" and her name to "Bella Gigante," the name she had chosen to be her pen name in the giantess community—and she uploaded the file.

Happy that at least something had come of the evening, Zoraida turned off the computer, and went to sleep.

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It was but four hours later that Scott sipped the cloying mint tea, trying to decide what the next step should be.

It was easy to say that the next step was simply to Stop Wafia, but he knew better than that. For one thing, he didn't relish the idea of going one-on-one with another adept. And while he could call Sarah for back-up, he didn't want to risk either of them.

More than that, though, he knew that just stopping Wafia wasn't enough. She was a pawn in Leah Jackson's game. Okay, maybe a rook, but the analogy was still the same. Wafia wasn't the one they were after, not ultimately. And while taking her out would be nice, it wouldn't ultimately take out the queen.

No, he needed to do something daring.

"So, Dr. Bouzoubaä, do you think you can get me back to that group tonight?"

"I would prefer not to, Mr. Chelgren. But I will if you ask me to."

"I am," Scott said. "I think I have an idea."

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Lilavati sat down at her desk, and sighed. Stupid to go out clubbing when you had to be in at nine the next day. She wasn't eighteen anymore, she thought, trying to ignore the fact that she was declaring herself an old woman at twenty-five.

Still, she was glad as her computer booted up that she'd done something with herself last night. She was certainly not looking forward to a day of loan processing. But it was what it was.

"Hey, Lil," came a voice from behind her. She turned in her chair, and smiled at Lloyd.

"Hey, yourself. You seem cheery today."

"Yeah, well…I've come to a decision. It might end up making this a really good day, or a really bad one."

"Really?" Lil said, bemused. Lloyd was given to grandiose pronouncements, and she was curious where he was going with this.

"Really. It's going to depend largely on what you're doing tonight."

"Oh, Lloyd, I'd love to go see a movie, but Kate wanted to go out to dinner."

"Well, cancel it. I'd like to go out with you tonight."

"Lloyd, I can't cancel it. I mean, Kate's my friend too, and she's got first call on it."

"I don't mean go out as friends, Lil."

Lil started to speak, and then stopped. Instead, she simply stared at Lloyd for a moment.

"I, uh," he said, "I've felt this way for some time, but haven't known how to say it. Lil, I'd like to go on a date with you. Perhaps many dates with you. If you'd like to do so. If not, well—I mean, I still like you as a friend, it's not like I've just been biding my time, looking to seduce you with kindness, so I still want to be friends if you don't feel that way, but—"

"Lloyd," Lil said, "shut up."

Lloyd shut up.

"It's about bloody time," she said, smiling. "Meet me at my flat at seven. Don't be late. And bring a change of clothes."

"A change of—" Lloyd said, then he stopped. And smiled. "Ah. Yes."

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Teri was accustomed to being semi-lucid in her dreams. She knew when she was dreaming, and when things got difficult or scary, she was quite capable of steering her dreams in any way she wanted them to go. Indeed, she had found through the years that she could do so with almost any dream.

But she didn't.

She knew that dreams were the mind's way of telling you things you already knew, but didn't know you knew. She knew that where her subconscious stretched out and met the wider world, where she became aware of the afterlife and the future, that these things could manifest in dreams. And so she was usually content to simply observe her dreams, observe her actions, and try to figure out what they meant later.

Tonight's dream was very vivid, as she might have expected it would be. She was at a baby shower. Ronnie was there, and Sarah, and Karen and Susi and her mom and grandma. And Trina was there, though it was a baby shower for her.

Still, she looked down and saw she was pregnant. Dream logic. In its own way, she loved it.

"And the next present will require Katrina to leave the room, and the rest of us, too," said Sarah, smiling, as she handed Teri a package wrapped in silver.

As she grabbed the package, the room melted away, as did her pregnancy. She lifted the lid, and inside was the living room of a dollhouse, with two tiny men seated inside.

Mike and Jake.

"Hey, honey!" they said in unison.

"Hi, guys! What are you here for?"

"To make you happy," they said together, and then the package dissolved, and she felt both of them exploring her, probing her, touching her tenderly. She thought she could tell who was who. Maybe.

The dream was like that for a long time, pleasant and comforting. And then, suddenly, she was walking down a street, looking for someone.

There. By the lamp post. A woman with red hair leaned against it, waiting for her. She turned, and smiled.

"About time you got here," said the woman. "Do you think this will work?"

"It has to, Liz," Teri replied. "I just hope I know what I'm doing."

"You do," Liz Anderson said, calmly. "I just hope I can keep things under control."

Teri awoke, gasping.

She reached for her dream journal, and began to scribble furiously, while her fiancé snored softly beside her.

She didn't know what it meant.

All she knew was that she needed to figure it out.