Entering the still dark apartment, Mark listened intently for any signs of the occupant or occupants being up and around, but all was quiet. He left his backpack and machete in the still darker corner of the room nearest the balcony door, behind a chair. Then, coming from under the chair carefully, he looked around. Although visibility was still poor, It was getting noticeably less dark, and the dawn light was going to enter from the balcony door. Looking around, he managed to catch sight of a tall recessed wardrobe, now closed, a door to what was presumably a bathroom, also closed, and ahead of him a nightstand and a bed in front of it, blocking his view to the rest of the apartment. Crossing the eerily silent room, his footsteps resounded strangely, like in a cathedral, echoing in the corners, even. Looking around as he walked, he headed for the bed, which had short draping that would be out of his reach to climb on it, but instead of getting under it, he went in front, surrounding the footboard; in his experience, the underside of beds was usually dusty, not exactly fragrant and sometimes nasty surprises, like one pounder spiders, lurked underneath; nothing could be seen below it though, in the early dawn’s gloom, which afforded him no obvious clues if was indeed Zava who inhabited this apartment. Only a few trinkets and furnishings here and there around and above him confirmed him, beside the sighting of female undies outside, that the room was indeed enjoying female occupation, but not necessarily HER. At least, there seemed to be no sign of any man living here, to his relief. He planned to get on the bed or in the nightstand, where he was left last time while Betty and Zava were in the bathroom. He remembered a lamp was on the nightstand, with a cord running down, but to his disappointment it was nowhere to be seen. As he finished rounding up the giant queen-size bed, he looked at the nightstand, looking for a way to the top, but saw none; he was going to have to go back and get the grappling hook out of his backpack. He turned around to see if there was any way to climb up the bed from this side and froze…

There was a giant, car sized foot beside the bed. A smooth, shapely and slenderly muscled calf jutted above from an also shapely and lean, though oversized ankle, and he could see, looking upwards, part of a white skirt, pinned to the mattress by the giant leg. The sleeper, apparently a female, was completely motionless and silent; Mark could not even hear her breathe. Besides this, there was nothing on this side that could help him climb the bed, besides the very smooth leg which of course he could not mount, lest its owner kicked or stomped him to death without even noticing. He had to see if it was her! Turning from the foot, he jogged to get his backpack.

A while later, he returned with his grappling hook attached to a slender, knotted rope, to the side of the bed the foot was on. He approached the foot carefully from the side, not from the front, lest he be kicked by a twitch of its owner. In the now much less dim light, he observed the slender-toed, though jumbo-sized foot in front of him; its heel was slightly off the ground, resting lightly in her unpainted bit trim and well cared toes and the ball of her feet; he was barely eye level with her slightly protruding ankle bone; her calf was completely smooth: he could not see the slightest hint of hairs or pores, at least not in this light. He resisted the temptation to touch her foot and possibly elicit sudden movements from the giant woman, and looking around, he saw a pair of what apparently were panties crumpled beside a chair near the bed and flat, gladiator (though he supposed they were called differently here)-type sandals a little ways off, likely kicked off hastily of her feet. Neither of these things told him if this was Zava or not, but he felt he was on the right track.  He moved to near the headboard, swinging the grappling hook while he walked. He throwed it and it shot upwards, landing on the bed. He pulled lightly, and felt it slide and catch. He tested it with a few pulls; it seemed solid. He started climbing.

Grunting with the effort of climbing the more or less six meters, he was reaching sheet level when he felt the bed tremble. Looking aside, she saw the foot leave the ground and its owner emit a sleepy and, decidedly unladylike little grunt and a protracted exhalation. The bed springs creaked as its enormous and very heavy occupant turned and twisted, changing positions above, sheets swishing.  The bed kept creaking and wobbling like a ship at a high seas storm for a few seconds as she squirmed and then, finally, settled. Startled into immobility, he stopped climbing while all this took place. He waited for a few more seconds, arms burning with the effort; after nothing stirred above, he started climbing again, hand over hand; he managed only a couple of upward strokes when disconcerted, he felt the rope give and at the same time, a slight ripping sound; he managed to get hold of a small wrinkle in the sheet before the grappling hook came loose; he let the rope go to hold onto the sheet with both hands; the hook fell to the floor with a clang. He winced at the noise, but again nothing stirred above. “Just your luck, Wilson” he managed to mutter while, grabbing handfuls of the thick sheet fabric, he finished climbing; he was almost above.

When he made it on the top of the bed, he was greeted by a naked, hangar front-sized, very obviously female back, connected by a sloping and (comparatively) slim waist to a huge and curvaceous backside only partly covered by a much hitched up skirt and a black-mane of slightly disheveled mane of hair draped on the pillows; her colossal body was backlit by the golden light of the dawn. Looking down the bed, she saw she had her legs slightly tucked in a slightly fetal position, with her back relatively close to the edge of the bed he just climbed. His heart racing, he groaned as he realized that even now he could not be sure if this was Zava (why were not things easy for him, ever?). Looking to his left, he saw that there was a slight space between Zava’s head on the pillow and the headboard. Going the other way, although with potentially more enticing and promising visuals, was too far, too dangerous that she would twitch again and send him plummeting to the floor or worse, that she woke up and saw him looking up her skirt, not a very promising start for his much anticipated reunion with her. Looking down to the floor, he shrugged and sat on the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks and tossing them over the edge to the ground; it would not do to leave dirty footprints in the very clean white sheets and getting back down was now pretty much useless to worry about now, he got bigger problems to tackle first. Now barefoot, he got up and  headed for the headboard and her head; this was going to be risky, if this was not Zava there were a million ways this could end badly for him and about a hundred ways this could end badly for him even if it was her.

He easily climbed the soft pillow, and got near her head and her silky black hair; heat positively radiated off her head, along with a beguiling, womanly aroma… if his heart was racing before, now he was afraid it was about to burst out of his chest; he was now level with the crown of her head, in the two meter space left between it and the headboard; unable to contain himself, he reached to the pillow and softly, careful not to let the pulling motion reach her scalp, lifted a few strands between his fingers and tenderly ran his fingers off them. They were unimaginably soft, thought undoubtedly way thicker than “normal” human hair, of course, as she was roughly 15 times as big as he was. Letting go of her hair, he continued his way, legs trembling, until her nose and long eyelashes came into view. Turning aside from her face, he continued walking ahead to the next pillow in front of him, avoiding the overwhelming temptation to look at her face until he was a little far from her body, so he could get a better view. If he was too close he would not be able to take in her features fully and try to recognize her, she was way bigger than any face he had seen on any billboard, back on Earth. After he was close to the other edge of the bed, he stopped, his back still to her. Sweat was running down his back, his knees wobbled, his heart was lurching in his chest and his lungs were heaving, his mouth dry. This was undoubtedly one of the biggest moments of his life, a veritable watershed. If this giant woman was not Zava, he was out-and-out screwed, rudderless and now completely lost and utterly alone in an alien planet. BUT, if she was Zava, a new life, full of possibilities, lied ahead of him, as long as he managed not to fuck this up, and that could happen in a million subtle ways, too. After all, they knew very little of each other. With a deep sigh, steeling himself, he stopped dithering and in a sweeping movement, he turned around to look at the colossal sleeping head. Falling to his knees with a shudder of relief, he recognized the gorgeous giant features of his former captress.