Pacho did not sleep badly. In fact, he slept quite well, but the night was awfully long. He awoke several times, annoyed because he had no way to know the time, only to fall asleep out of forced idleness and boredom in the dark. Amidst the dimness of the rom, he could make, to his right, the hill of blanket and giant woman underneath. The air in the room was stale and much less than fresh, and this time nobody could blame him. Thank god we did not have beans for dinner, thought Pacho, wryly. At some point she had transferred him to the chair, and was even kind enough to cover him with an improvised blanket.

Sometimes he woke on his own, and sometimes he woke because of the noise Tloche made. This last time he woke up startled, and wondering what had happened, as a glance at his lovely roommate only showed a still, unmoving breathing knoll. Then she uttered, probably not for the first time, a decidedly unladylike (but very sexy), long moan. What the putas was that?  Pacho burst out laughing, before covering his mouth, not wanting to wake her.   Whether because of the sound Pacho made or because of the previous agitation in her dream, she groaned, grunted and shifted in the bed, which creaked like an old sail ship under her titanic weight.

When she finally settled, Pacho could make out a pale, shapely calf and foot, sticking out of the covers and the mattress as she lay apparently prone. There was another noise, much less sexy and even less ladylike, and which immediately increased the sourness of the room’s atmosphere quite a few notches. Pacho started to sigh, then decided against it. I know the word for that, he chuckled to himself, as the picture book brought by Tloche, from a library, judging from the markings on the book, was surprisingly earthy, and there was the unmistakable illustration of well, an old… guy doing his thing. No mistaking, as the word was rather onomatopoeic. Thinking of oddities like these, in the end, he fell asleep again.

The next time, he awoke to a sweet voice calling his name from above in a lilting, beguiling timbre:

“Paah-tshoh, Paah-tshoh, anebé tsissoko nah. Anebéyah”.

Pacho opened his eyes to see the smirking, gorgeous face of Cantlutloche hovering a few meters above him. I could get used to see this first time in the morning he thought, looking in wonder at the beautiful woman, playfully nagging him for oversleeping, teeth gleaming white. She impishly tugged at the covers, but he, laughing, pulled them back, as he was naked under the huge handkerchief and had a hopeless case of morning-wood he did not want her to see. Self-evidently, she did not really want to yank the covers off, offering some (obviously token) resistance before letting go and whispering a string of gibberish he could not pick up a syllable of, in her unfairly stimulating voice. She smelled intensely of perfume, almost cloyingly.

Ignoring her, he covered his head and whole body with the cloth and pulled on his makeshift pants. Then he emerged. Tloche had already gotten ready for going out, and she was dressed in a rather plain khaki, short-sleeved livery which rather reminded him of a museum or safari guide, complete with shorts and matching long socks. She had only minimum makeup, hair tied in a bun, and an oddly-cute black cravat, which of course, he thought, more than a little disheartened, meant no cleavage. Despite the basic attire, she looked radiant… and very young.

How old is she? If she was from Earth, he would not give her more than twenty, which was not so far from his own 29, but as large mammals (which she obviously was) live longer and grow slower than small ones (such as himself), she could be even older than him, in Earth’s reckoning, and he suspected this world’s years were, as the days seemed to be, noticeably longer than Earth’s. And…  he could be wrong, and she could be a minor, maybe even fifteen or less, not even a senior in a boarding school… he thought guiltily. Maybe the uniform was a high-school’s? No way to know, for now. Haven’t been that far into the book.

There was something he DID know. He had to take a leak. A big one, in fact. But for this he was prepared, as the unpretentious book had already taught him. looking up at her looming, standing near the chair, arms akimbo (it’s going to take time getting used to always be looking up people’s noses), he said:

“Tloche, suimnase, shikko sanakia zu”

This seemed to take her off guard, as she, flustered, flushed red as a beet. My god… she blushes so readily! She moved her right had towards him, then seemed to think better of it, and withdrew it. Then she half-turned to face the door and gave a step sideways, looking around as if asking for help. She covered her mouth.

****

I’m such an idiot! She had not considered, not even once, despite her having been to the toilet several times in the last day, that, of course, he would have to GO, too at some point. The fact that he hadn’t until now only meant that he was probably mildly dehydrated.  Some doctor I’m turning out to be… Another glaring hole in her plan to keep her man smuggled in her room or in her person. I have to keep in mind that even if he is not human, he is most definitely a sentient person, not a toy, not a doll, not a pet, and NOT mine. An astronaut, in fact, is what he is…

Trying to think clearly as Paah-tshoh fidgeted below her, she considered her options: maybe he does not only have to pee… but poo too… not to mention he must want to take a bath…But it’s too risky to make him use the toilet… he could slip, fall in and be flushed, drowned or swept beyond reach in the sewer, not to mention he would be visible under the stall to other people in the bathroom, and standing on the edge of the privy, reeking of giant bodily waste must not be pleasant for him, nor hygienic. He’s too small for the wiping loofas, too…

An unwelcome thought bubbled up: he’s smaller than what I (or even a waif like Jablo) can evacuate in the toilet in a bad day for the gods’ sake… She blushed even more, her brain reeling from the implications. He must find us humans disgusting, smelly behemoths! It would be filthy and undignified to make him relieve himself on a napkin here, on her room. Shit! It’s getting late! What to do, what to do?

Suddenly she came up with a plan. Leaving the flummoxed Paah-tshoh standing there on the chair, she went to the wardrobe and kneeled to get one of her shoes, quickly pulling the laces of one. Then she kneeled before the chair and hastily tied it around the increasingly perplexed tiny man’s waist, coiling the rest and delivering it to his hands. Then she grabbed him in her fist as gently (but hastily) as she could and transferred him to a fanny pack full of some of her silk handkerchiefs for cushioning and a few berries she had thrown in there for him, among other knick-knacks and pulled the strings close to secure her valuable cargo. First stop: the toilet. A bath would have to wait till later: her job awaited her.

****

Tloche’s movements had become more paused, thankfully, as the walk to wherever the giant woman was going had apparently reached its destination, all in good time, as he was getting an awful dose of motion sickness. Earlier, Tloche had taken him to the bathroom for “shikko”, a situation that, as expected, was awkward, to say the least, for both of them and specially for Paah-tshoh, who had stood on Tloche’s knee, who in turn had crouched near the ditch-toilet stall in the boarding house, while she held the lifeline string in one hand, ready to rescue him, should he slip.

She had been in an awkward position (in more than one sense), trying to angle her knee towards the porcelain ditch without falling in, and be close enough for Pacho to reach, while politely looking away, an effort he appreciated but that was ultimately thwarted by his shy bladder, which was also to be expected as he was standing with his ridiculous purple velvet shorts on his ankles, cock in hand, on the warm, smooth, shapely naked knee of a beautiful woman, looming behind him.

He took so long to squeeze out the first drops, that of course, a (you guessed it) furiously blushing Cantlutloche looked down and immediately away, noting he had not finished. Both of them were relieved he did not need to go to number two… yet, but it was just a matter of time, he groaned inwardly. Then, he feared, she would have to go, too… and perforce he would be around. Also, it was the first time in his life that Pacho had spent more than 24 (Earth’s) hours without taking a bath, and it was HOT inside the bag he was in. Thankfully, the bag had some eyelets to let fresh air in, and where he could peek out from. Tloche had also provided a few berries to eat, and a kind of shortened syringe filled with water, which he could drink from.

Tloche was greeting people in her melodic, but very loud voice, and was greeted back by both males and females with even more stentorian tones, making her voice look subdued by comparison. Pacho peeked out of the nearest eyelet, only to have a hair-raising view of a giant, potbellied, hulking blonde man staring right at him. His heart stopped… only to realize, relieved, that he must be staring (rather blatantly) at Tloche’s ass, facing the giant, an ass above which Pacho was resting in the fanny pack.

Looking around, Pacho noticed they were in a library. Other giants were around, some dressed in the same attire Cantlutloche was wearing. It seemed to be the uniform of library or school employees. As she walked around, a voice from a loudspeaker droned something unintelligible. Pacho saw Tloche was walking among the shelves, but as he was facing backwards, he could not know exactly what he was doing… until he heard the whirring of wheels, probably a cart for transporting books. She must be working here at the library, putting books back on the shelves… and other tasks. For a long, boring time. Minutes passed. Then dozens of minutes. Then more.

He had found a lower eyelet and found he could see Tloche’s curvaceous legs and a good part of her behind, ambling below. He was distracted contemplating this, when a while later, they entered a rather dark passage and then the bag swiveled in its strap and its mouth opened.

Pacho looked up, guiltily as he had been ogling her, to see her innocent eyes and lovely smile…. Beyond the very prominent mounds of her breasts. She looked him over, checking if he was OK, and with some soft words, waved at him and closed the bag, which was returned to its former position behind her. With nothing else to do, Pacho’s mind began to wander… the hardon he had gotten by looking at the back of her thighs and her twin buttocks bouncing below him had only reasserted itself by seeing her smile at him… over the curves of the most magnificent mammaries he had ever seen.

But ever since his rescue, Tloche had treated him kindly, but keeping an invisible barrier between them, inviting nothing of the earlier intimacy they had shared. She seemed to be establishing boundaries. What else could I expect, thought Pacho, surprisingly hurt, as he cogitated this. She is (as I could witness first hand) not a virgin. She probably has a lover, a giant, or rather, normal to her, lover, with a prick longer, thicker and much more durable than Pacho’s whole body could ever hope to be. When Pacho was inside her, he had noticed he was by no means touching the bottom, so to speak. He could never penetrate her with the force and the subsequent and sustained pistoning necessary to satisfy a colossal girl, with a colossal pussy for which Pacho was a mere, inadequate morsel, never a full meal. Last time he visited, he was almost killed by her vagina.

He remembered the difficulty the redheaded Trano had had in trying to grab his meager cock, pinching clumsily around with her thick, stubby fingers, nudging his balls rather uncomfortably. And then Tloche had hastened to procure him with something to cover himself, so he would not have his unimpressive “manhood” in her face. It was all the worse as Pacho already had seen those impressive, kissable nipples atop squeezable tits bigger than him, those long legs and everything else, which he would never see again and which he would never have the chance to prove worthy of enjoying and making their owner enjoy having.

He was cursed to live the life of a talking hamster, who would pine away in the darkness of the desk, out of the way as one day, he was sure, the sounds of giant lovemaking would reach him, when she found (if she did not have one already) and brought home a man of her own measure before whom she would offer what he could never have. Even these disconsolate thoughts did not appease his desire for the young giantess, images of giant womanly eyes, giant dangling breasts, huge milky white thighs spreading open and sweet, deep and moist lips danced in his head. He only restrained himself from jerking off right there as it would be filthy and he did not want to be a creep to the woman that had risked jail or maybe even her life, to keep him from harm.

****

As she worked, Cantlutloche felt like time was not only crawling but actually going backwards. Having the tiny, sexy, scantily clad man so close to her all day was maddening. Last night she had had disjointed dreams she could barely recollect, but all involved a naked Paah-tshoh. In one particularly lurid dream she had lying in a great bed, spread eagle, tied to the posts by as an army of tiny Paah-tshohs,  even smaller than the original, barely two inches tall, ran all over her body, touching her everywhere, dragging their feet on and combing her pubes, climbing her breasts, but, tantalizingly, never directly going where she needed it, until her nipples and cunt were positively howling in a frustrated sex-craze. In another, she watched, as in a trance, how Paah-tshoh was the one pinned by the table, sprawled as a butterfly under her hungry gaze, her looking at his penis move, impossibly, like an elephant’s trunk, flopping all around, avoiding her fingers, who longed to feel the amazingly soft yet hard member to kiss it, suck it, milk it for all it could offer her, until it unexpectedly burst a load like a garden hose, spraying her with its pearly offering, which tasted as sweet as sugar.

She had woken from one of these dreams so aroused she tried to covertly rub one off under the covers with her back to Paah-tshoh, but the rustling of blankets and the creaking of the mattress was too loud in the dark, and she was on her period, which would make things even messier, so she desisted. Hell, she would run to the toilet to rub one NOW, period or no period if Paah-tshoh was not inescapably around her. And the last thing I need now, is to confirm him I’m the greatest pervert of the two planets, both his and mine.

Every time she remembered she had taken advantage of his helplessness to shove him up her cunt she felt a deep twinge of remorse she could not shake off. I must seem so gross to him… my skin (of which she was not-so-secretly very proud of) must seem to him as the hide of a whale, full of pores and coarse bristles… my breasts so bloated, dangling and grotesque (she was secretly embarrassed of having very perky breasts and nipples). Every time I am closer to him I worry how I must smell to him, especially now in my bi-monthly cycle… it’s so strange that I have to worry if I wiped myself right after going to the bathroom because he might notice as he is so close atop the table to… there… If he is cute, imagine how the women of his world must be, so delicate, so soft. They must flock to him, so brave, so determined, so handsome.

The fact was that Paah-tshoh seemed quite indifferent to her, taking care to cover himself from her prying eyes, never, after he had ogled her at the table, had she caught him looking again at her THAT way, keeping his distance. He must be grossed out after being soaked in my stinky cum, and now is trying to bid his time until he can get away. She could not deny now that she wanted to go all the way with the tiny man until she exploded. It had been quite a while since she had been with a man, and her intimate experience with Paah-tshoh, though shameful, had left her unsatisfied, and yet, appallingly... she wanted more of it, did not stop wanting it to happen, not again, but completely this time. I will make it worth your while, she thought, shocked at her own determination to seduce the man destiny had, quite literally, delivered into her hands.