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Author's Chapter Notes:

Living with regret

Zava finally made it home, bone tired, after an all-nighter (equivalent) Saturday-night party with some new girlfriends she met at college. After finding, to her shocked surprise, that her childhood friend, Millan, had grown from a slightly spoiled and willful child she was always in the shadow of, to a veritable psychopath that would be even capable of murder and torture when she thought she could get away with it (which was particularly easy if the victim was a tiny person), they had parted ways forever. Now in college, she had slowly overcome her natural shyness and indecisiveness after quickly making some new friends and had found herself also accosted by not always unwelcome attention of her male peers and seniors, much more numerous, diverse (and way hotter and more interesting) in college that they ever were in her high school district, where the jealous Millan kept everyone at bay, male or female.

 

In the new and exciting college environment, where she was more busy than ever with her studies (she was majoring in the relatively new field of electronic engineering) and exciting social life, she thought it to be the perfect place and occasion to forget all about the tiny man who had not left her head since she had set eyes on him besides the tiny Betty and all her equally diminutive and cute friends; even in that first encounter, she had unconsciously singled him out, as a braver fella than the other tinies, with a sense of possession and certainty she never associated with herself until she left the company of her much more assertive, now former friend Millan, he wanted to have Mark for her and hers alone. Betty and Mark would never know the titanic effort of will needed to let them, particularly Mark, go free; she was sorely tempted to go back on their promise to release them and let go of Betty only, keeping Mark as her own forever. Only the consideration that she did not want to be a monster in his eyes and the unbearable thought of seeing Mark looking up at her in horror, fear and loathing as a kidnapper and a giant abuser, and more than a little remorseful for intimately touching him without his express consent, gave her the inner strength she needed to do what she knew it to be the right thing and give the little man his freedom. He had kind of signaled when they parted that they could meet again (she was not sure anymore  if he had really said that or if she had imagined or dreamed that part afterwards), but ever since that day, other than the occasional and increasingly rare mention in the news, she had not seen the slightest sign of the little people, which had become much more careful and elusive that they ever were… unless they were already captured by the Special Investigations Department or met any other untimely end… or perhaps they already left the planet, never to be seen or heard of again, separating her and Mark for ever by the endless void of space, still beyond the bounds of her giant race, much less technologically advanced than the little people. Neither of these imaginings left her feeling particularly cheerful, either. As a matter of fact, last night after midnight, after the holidays fireworks volley din finally dwindled outside of the bar where she was drinking and dancing with some friends, when a TV screen over the bar flashing with a breaking newscast caught her attention. Her friends continued her partying oblivious as she saw and listened, mouth agape, at reports of an enormous thunder and blue streak heading into the sky that was witnessed and recorded by a local camera crew covering the celebrations over the Tabor woods, near where she had left Betty and Mark several months before.  A similar, but red event had been associated with the first sightings of the little people, who were rumored to be alien invaders; she in fact had confirmed chatting with Betty that they were indeed from another planet, but not invaders; rather some poor people, probably less than ten, stranded in her planet as their starship malfunctioned and had no choice but to land in the closest habitable sphere they could reach. This probably meant that the tiny aliens finally found some way of fixing their spacecraft and had departed for their homeworld, for good. Unexpectedly, she came to the sudden and inescapable intuition that indeed that was it! The little people, and Mark with them, had left forever!! And he never tried to contact her… Her knees buckled, and she barely made it, trembling like a leaf, to a nearby stool, where, she plopped, heart racing, a hand in her bosom. Her vision had reduced to a narrow tunnel and she fought back a swoon, with all her will, gripping the seat of the stool until her knuckles cracked, her eyes glued to the screen nobody was paying attention to, until it blurred with overflowing tears that came unbidden and unstoppable while she barely stifled a wail that threatened to escape from her trembling mouth, with both hands. Now she understood the phrase “rock your world”. Until that moment, she had been in self-denial and entertaining a secret and unconscious aspiration of seeing the little guy again, but now she was under the full weight of the realization that she cared about him more than she ever thought rationally possible… and now those hopes were utterly shattered. Of course, he left in that ship! The only reason he wouldn’t be on it was if he was prevented by doing so by capture or death, both of which was even more horrible to contemplate than him leaving for the stars, literally! Fighting the knot in her belly and throat, over a thousand-fold more terrible than the last time she saw Mark when she also cried, she raced to the ladies’ room, where she thankfully found an empty stall, where she dashed, turned the latch and plopped on the lid of the toilet seat, trembling with bone-wracking sobs that brought home a crushing sense of loneliness and despair…. they would NEVER meet again, and it was likely her fault and no one else’s. She was locked in there for a long, long time…

 

After a while, she managed to reign in her emotions, and reclined in the seat, looking at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused, her sight turned inwards. Her unexpected and totally involuntary, yet undeniable and uncontainable reaction had shook her to the core; she had never been of a fainting, neither nervous nor choleric disposition, but rather calm and perhaps a little too laid back for her own good until she focused her will and life energy into her studies at college. What right had her to be so attached to Mark? How did that happen? They had only met for like a day… It is true she had been more than a little pushy with him, going beyond what she had ever dared to do with a regular sized boy, much less a grown (though pint-sized) man, but with little Mark, it had been impossible to resist the temptation to give in to her urges; that time, she barely, just barely, restrained herself from ripping his pants off; she was not sure then (although she was now) what she would have done with him if he had gazed at him naked in all his glory in her hand and utterly in her power.  When she had made him, to her delight, squirm with involuntary pleasure under her relentless but (she hoped) gentle fingers and probing mouth, he was sullen and quiet, and, she thought, with a mix of thrilling exultation and more than a little mortifying self-consciousness, that he was more than a little scared of her (which was not her intention at all)… had she hurt him? He felt so delicate in his hands, like a little bird...perhaps she had gone too far. That time, she closely watched him after he cleaned himself to determine if he was lame or stiff when walking, but he seemed to be as limber as ever, not that the little proud fool would display any weakness before her, anyway, but she avoided trying to handling him until she got Betty, she could not bear seeing him recoil from her; indeed he didn’t, submitting meekly to being picked later together with his companion Betty into her eager hands; the more she touched his warm, tiny but firm body, the more she wanted to keep fondling him. He felt so good writhing between her fingers!

 

Maybe his parting words (if he really said them) of a possible future meeting were only uttered to convince her to release him and Betty, him sensing her unwillingness to let them go from her grasp. He probably would have said anything that would get him and Betty far, far away from her hulking frame and her prodding fingers. His last sight of him and his little female friend heading into the scrub had been also blurred by tears, as she turned away from them and half-ran, half-walked home, feeling lonelier than she ever had been and feeling like a hole had just been bored into her heart by an ice-cold drill, leaving a gaping hole where the gnawing cold of loneliness and remorse went through like a chill. Would she ever see them, and specially Mark again?

 

That first evening, as she made it home, she undressed and plopped in her bed sighing, unable to take her mind off Mark and recalling all that had happened between them. Thankfully, she had graduated from high school a few weeks earlier, because she was so distracted thinking of Mark that she doubted she would have been able to focus on anything. In the coming days, she daydreamed of him continuously, and in the coming weeks and months, she was always looking around her feet when she walked home, her eyes darting here and there to the ground each time she passed an alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mark or any of the little people that could guide her to him, but she only saw rats, lizards and bugs scurrying around. She avoided, though, going into the woods where she left the little couple, as she of course did not want to go with Millan (they latter had their final fight and avoided each other) and she was very wary of being alone in the woods on her own… she had heard hobos and winos lurked there sometimes and although she was not petite and quite fit she nonetheless did not want to find out if she was a match against a man in a struggle if one (or more than one!) corralled her at knifepoint or decided to wrestle her down. Later, at class, or at home watching TV or reading, she often zoned out of what she was doing and fantasized that Mark had sneaked into her house to meet with her, or that she had him right there in her pocket… or under her skirt, if she was wearing one.  Variations of this were a recurring theme in her dreams as well, leaving her very disappointed when she woke up and Mark was nowhere to be seen.  And these were only the tamest dreams she had, and only at the beginning, because as days became weeks, and Mark or his tiny friends failed to make an appearance, her dreams became more urgent, more vivid and more lurid. In the day, at class for instance, she often blushed involuntarily when recalling such dreams. Thankfully, she was relatively dark-skinned and the change in color was not very evident (she hoped). And the heat in her face was mirrored in much nether regions as well.

 

Sometimes she regretted and more often she was relieved that she had not tried to take things any further that fateful night when he was, quite literally, in her hands, because she really, really had wanted to and perhaps only Betty’s presence in the nearby bathroom had prevented her to fully have her way with the little guy. She remembered when she had him walking on her lap, tickling her tummy, and she joked, as he mocked her for being “only a child”, that he was very close to… down there… and indeed having her around that part had made her very, very excited, tingling all over and particularly down south more than she ever had; she even was very aware of her nipples poking against her sleepshirt and was sure Mark had noticed and was trying, unsuccessfully, not to stare at her chest. His continued defiance had finally made her more than a little bold and reckless. Besides, she never had touched a man down there (she only had kissed some boys in the mouth in years past and some were bold enough to try to fondle her breasts, but she never encouraged them beyond that  and stopped making out if she felt things were getting out of control) nor had she seen a man naked besides some furtive glances to dirty mags sneaked in school by giggling classmates, and she never dared to buy one herself for a more careful inspection, as most magazine and news stalls salesmen were mostly, well, older Men; she had resorted, however, to covertly gawk at color plates of naked men in anatomy and art books in hidden recesses in the library, but in them, the model poses were dissapointingly stilted and invariably with flaccid, smallish members, and she had heard (and confirmed when manhandling Mark into arousal), that manhoods could grow much larger and stiffer when aroused than when they were flopping limply between an unaroused man’s legs; she now knew that she liked cocks much better when hard, up and ready for her gentle ministrations.

 

The problem with trying one on, however, was that, even more after meeting Mark (a real astronaut, for crying out loud!) she found boys immature and tiresome and preferred older men, but as until recently she was a minor, it was not appropriate to involve herself with older males.

 

Sometime in the weeks after last seeing him, she started going over her time with Mark and she started thinking of the things she had done to Mark from his point of view, and the conclusions she came up with were more than a little disturbing. How would SHE react if a strange 100 feet man grabbed her in his giant hand, fondled her privates and ripped her clothes off, leering at her and ultimately violating her with his ungainly fingers and mouth, bringing her to an unwanted but unstoppable climax in the palm of her hand? She felt her face hot with shame and her heart heavy with regret each time he thought of his treatment of Mark… she had, for all intents and purposes, RAPED him, and planned then (but thankfully decided against) using him for her own pleasure! No wonder he could not wait to get away from her, and why the hell would he want to meet her again, her, her RAPIST! How could she have done that to him?! If she ever met him again, she planned to apologize and make it up to him. She would do anything he asked so he could forgive her!

 

At other times when considering that, her thoughts wandered in another direction: she remembered one time while in middle school when her parents had taken her to a wildlife park. She enjoyed the trip but vividly remembered the intense smell of the large mammals they saw, and particularly that of a great plains, four legged herbivore which was over 18 feet high at the back. It towered even over the park’s special truck she and her family were cruising on, protected from the animals by wire mesh, which freely let pass the air that wafted from the creatures that surrounded them. Even from more than 20 feet away, the stink of the wild hulking beast was overpowering, to say the least. It was not that bad a smell, but there was A LOT of it. And, compared with Mark, she was a lot bigger, more than ten times than that beast had been to her… did he find her natural scent too intense or unpleasant? She certainly, when she grabbed him and held him to her face, caught a whiff of a not unpleasant masculine smell she liked about him… And she supposed that he would be able, upsettingly, to see the tiniest skin blemishes, pores, hairs, moles (not that she had many), pimple scars, etc. Maybe that was why he was so dismissive… maybe she did not see her as a young comely woman (she knew she was not beauty-pageant-level, but the mirror said she was very easy on the eyes) but as some kind of smelly, unwieldy, coarse being with bulging eyes and rope-like hair grasping at him with disturbingly strong paws that squeezed too hard in the wrong places with crude tree-trunk like fingers in an iron grip, threatening to grind his bones to powder on a whim?  And what about when she had him in her lap? Did he smell her then increasing arousal through her shorts and her panties below? And how would Mark react to see her giant, completely naked body, and her hairy, damp crotch looming in front of or above him (she knew she could become QUITE wet down there at times)? If the roles were reversed she thought she would faint at the mere sight of her giant sex so up close and personal, not to mention the scent, or rather, to him, reek of her crotch, she thought, blushing furiously. And sometimes her mind wandered even more…. For instance, what about farts? Although she was not particularly prone to them, they did happen and she imagined he would be able to smell (and hear!!) even the slightest one from across the room! Did he hear her stomach and guts rumble, her joints creak and her blood flow in her giant veins when he was held against her body?

 

Did he see the veins in her eyeballs pulse sickeningly when she held him close to her eyes? And what about her breath? She also remembered how he was shocked into silence when she overtly squeezed her boob over him when she had him in her lap and he called her a “child”. She now was old enough to take male attention and admiration for granted; she was actually very proud of her breasts and she knew theirs were quite shapely and pert and well but not too well endowed, but maybe Mark was disgusted and shocked of having giant, to him mottled, misshapen and grotesquely enlarged (and perhaps even malodorous) mammary appendages thrust into his face? And she remembered when she had found Betty and Mark hiding in the alley… she had open pumps on her feet… she remembered seeing Betty recoil from her giant looming form… or was it from her smelly feet? Did Betty not mention anything during their later chat out of politeness or fear of offending a giant ogre of a woman? She remembered being more than a little amused at first at the squeaky voice of Betty and the only slightly less squeaky voice of Mark when they first met… she could barely hear them the first time she saw them at her feet, and had to kneel to bring them into hearing. Did they find HER voice too low-pitched and unlady or unwoman-like, even troll-like in its loudness and coarseness? In fact, one of the reasons she did refrain from touching herself in front of or indeed touching herself WITH Mark that time she had him, before she had the time or the inclination to ponder on the notion that Mark might not think of her as a desirable woman, but as some kind of monster, was because she was self-conscious of a poorly stifled moan being heard by Betty, which Zava had noticed flinched when she talked too loud that time in the alley with Mark. To these poor little people such womanly moan would be even louder than for Zava were the bellows of one of the giant, smelly beasts she had also heard in the Wildlife Park. She remembered how she started, to their parents amusement, when the creature emitted those too loud and unexpected noises back then… and again, to the little people she was much bigger than the beast was to her … was she, then, a monster to them? And especially, to Mark? She could not stand the notion of being shunned by him as a blotchy, bumbling, gross raping giant woman from a nightmare… did he ever think of her other than in his worst nightmares?

 

She regretted not having had the wisdom sooner to ask Betty directly about some of these things when she could but now was too late. Or… was she perhaps overthinking this stuff? Was it worth it to spend so much mental energy in a man that would perhaps never think of her or only think of her as an enormous, unrelatable beast, a giant abuser no different from all the other lumbering, persecuting giants he had encountered in this alien planet? And what It did all these worries matter if he was gone from her to an impossibly far, utterly unreachable star! Would she ever get over him? They had barely talked! Where did this damned infatuation come from?!  These and more random musings made her head whirl when she allowed herself to indulge on them. As the months passed, she tried to focus on her studies to stifle these likely idle thoughts, succeeding only partially and, as they resurfaced each time she found herself alone and idle, she tried to keep herself vehemently busy, lest his tiny face intrude into his thoughts, and it always did, in the end; one can only study so much.

 

These thoughts and remembrances came back and spun in her head as she was seated in that toilet seat, her head in her hands, her elbows propped on her spread knees, trying to come to terms with her losing Mark forever, without having the chance to say sorry, at least, but there was also so much she wanted to tell him.. so much she wanted to ask him...

 

She was shaken out of her reverie by Yaeer, one of her new classmates, lightly knocking on her stall door.

 

“Zava, mate, are you in there? One of the girls told YorJees  you ran for the bathroom like the devil was after you!”

 

“It’s OK, Yar, never mind, I thought I had the runs after I ate that shrimp dish, but I’m OK”, she lied, and relieved to hear her voice way steadier than she thought it would come out, she added. “Gimme five and I will be out, OK?”.

 

“No problem”, said her girlfriend.  But do not take too long in there, people will think you’re smoking a joint!  Or rubbing one out! “ she said, only half-jokingly.

 

“I’ll be out soon, but I think I’ll be going home, I don’t think I am in any condition to stay here, getting a little tired and sleepy, actually”.

 

“Right. Want me to call you a cab?”

 

“Please! Thank you Yarr!”. Once the receding sound of her friends steps told Zava that she was alone, she got out of the stall to rearrange her hair and bangs in front of the mirror, cleaned herself a bit, and hoping that in the gloom of the bar they did not notice her reddened eyes  (giving more credence to the rumor that she was doing drugs in the bathroom, which would get her in trouble if word of it ever reached a SID operative, and there were plenty around), she finally left the restroom and reunited with the other guys.

 

The rickshaw-taxi arrived a little later and that is how she arrived home a bit after midnight; somewhat tipsy after drinking too many beers in succession after she got out of the restroom to be teased by her friends, she continued her brooding during the ride home, responding to the cabbie’s attempts at conversation only with barely polite one-worders. While she climbed the steep stairs to her home, little did she know that the little guy that caused all this inner stir, the one she thought could be already light years away, was sleeping like a log not 100 feet from her home, and coming to meet her. The taxi driver drove away slowly, watching the slender and shapely form of the young, short-haired brunette in a white mini-skirt and sandals gracefully climbing the stairs two at a time, statuesque legs flashing under the moonlight. The radio was saying something of a blue ray streaking across the southern sky earlier, accompanied by a loud boom that shattered some windows. People were talking of UFOs and little invading aliens.

 

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