A few very dull and long days ensued. Pacho was bored nearly to death while inside the fanny pack, as there was nothing to do inside it besides peeking at the giant world around him, and no way to talk to anyone: and even if he could be heard by Tloche, his limited vocabulary and even more rudimentary command of grammar still did not allow the kind of conversation he was dying to have with the alluring giant woman. However, she took him anywhere she went, which admittedly was much better than languishing in her narrow, spartan room through the long, alien day.
The few glimpses he got through the holes of the bag of this society of giants, and the cultural differences he recognized even in the smallest details kept him from totally collapsing from absolute tedium. So far, he had seen squarish-garishly colored cars and oddly shaped bicycles. There were a variety of what seemed to be electrical appliances, but their purpose baffled him, as their shape and buttons were utterly unfamiliar, also, his little bilingual handbook did not cover those.
Everyone, including Tloche, had the curious custom of squatting to chat, which he had often seen in Slavic and some Asian countries back on is world. People squatted to chat, squatted to eat snacks, etc.; they squatted everywhere, including his protectress.
Every day of the week had been the same. Not long after daybreak, Tloche, took away his chamber pot, fashioned from a bottle cap, and then put him in a shallow tin basin with lukewarm water so he could clean himself in private while she went to wash herself in the common bathrooms. After that they had breakfast in her room, after which she picked him carefully with her soft, warm fingers, put him in the fanny pack, and she went to her job with him in tow, literally. Then they came home in the evening, ate dinner and chatted, and chatted some more, with his trusty notes, and her very kindly correcting his pronunciation and explaining what she could to his questions about grammar, vocabulary and everything else. Then she would put him in the drawer, change into her sleeping camisole, take him back out and they both read or studied for two hours of so, he in his language studies, her in her medical textbooks, before biding him good night and turning the lights off.
If Pacho wanted to chat, Tloche was not only forthcoming, but clearly eager to converse. She usually sat on a mat on the ground near the chair, where he slept and ate, as it was awkward to do so in the table because of the difference in height when she was seated in the chair, and she was reluctant to sit on the chair now that he used it as a loft and ate there.
Her very expressive eyes sparkled when they talked, and she gestured a lot while talking; Pacho thought half of the talking was done by her eyebrows and eyes alone. The earnest, giant woman’s gaze was surprisingly tender, yet keen and intelligent. Her black eyes regarded him with her whole attention, so fixed in each broken Casibare-kem (which, he learned, was the name of her native language) word he managed to utter, that his spine (and other parts) tingled with awe as he looked up at her enormous face looking down at him, eyes wide, mouth half opened with and wonderment as he struggled to answer her questions and she answered his with her sweet, lilting voice. Her face was flawless, covered by minute blonde hairs that no doubt were invisible to her. Her cheeks, brow, and even her cute nose was covered by the fuzz, which sparkled in the sunlight. Being in the presence of such a marvel of nature made him happy to be alive.
After a few days, Pacho had been set at ease by a clear improvement in her complexion, so now he was pretty much assuaged that he had not brought a deadly plague along. Indeed, when they talked, she often blushed, spoke too fast to be understood, giggled and even stuttered a little, covering her mouth and lowering her eyes, nervously. All of this made her ever more adorable in Pacho’s eyes, but he thought she was like that all the time. Little did he know that Cantlutloche’s friends would be aghast at seeing the pale, dark haired woman, usually cool to the point of being grave, so flustered when talking to a man that she was red to the ears.
When they talked, he could not help but be entranced by her naturally carmine lips, and he had to struggle not to stare to the enormous, sensual lips as they moved rapidly to form words, giving him glimpses of pearly teeth and a very nimble tongue.
He was thankful of his scant and ridiculous purple shorts, as he had a case of an almost permanent hard-on when Tloche was around, which was 90 percent of the day, as the giant woman was clearly loath to leave him alone for extended periods of time, but the thick fabric concealed his arousal well enough. Staring at her sexy, kissable mouth from up close did not help in this regard. And below that, her bulging bosom, filling her shirt in a very distracting and impossible to ignore way (especially as it giggled noticeably and enticingly when she giggled as they talked, or tried to).
Not only this made Pacho feel guilty, but also, he was hard pressed not to leer as he was essentially at knee height and she was using her uniform, with shorts, most of the day, which showed off her very shapely, toned thighs. Every morning, and he had a privileged, up close view of the giantess thighs after they finished breakfast, as she slid the chair a little apart from the bed, turned her back on him and bent over to make the bed, displaying her pert, meters-wide ass unknowingly.
Perhaps what was more galling to Pacho was the fact that he had to depend on the giant woman for everything. He was always on tabletops, chairs, in the fanny pack or in her hands (which trembled noticeably [and not very reassuringly] when handling him), which meant he was always trapped several meters above the ground. He had to admit that being on the ground so he could walk around made little sense, as Tloche would not be able to hear him talk, and he did not want to be anywhere close to car-sized feet supporting a being of over 100 tons, who could turn him into a red stain on the floor effortlessly if she was careless even for an instant.
He had to wait for her to feed him, carry him around, and even more humiliatingly, he had to inform her every time he had to relieve himself, for which Tloche had provided him with a little jingle-bell like contraption he could sound from inside the fanny pack to signal he had to go to the loo. She even had to empty his chamber pot, for crying out loud!
****
The first days with Paah-tshoh were almost torture to Tloche. She spent the whole day in an uneasy state of excitement as she was constantly reminded that she had a man – and a very attractive one at that – so close to her, all the time, which made her very self-conscious of what she said and did. Because of this, she got distracted and made a few mistakes on her job, which got her in trouble with her supervisor, Mrs. Unononu, who was priggish even when Tloche was at 100% (and now she wasn’t). She also spent some uneasy moments in her shift as every time she had to take a bathroom break she had to find one of her friends to leave her fanny pack with her with some lame excuse as she did not want to expose Paa-tshoh to unseemly smells and sights of her and other patrons of the ladies’ room. She was then always terrified that anyone opened her fanny pack to find her little treasure there.
The times when Paah-tshoh signaled her that he had to go were also very awkward, as she could tell he was quite uncomfortable and unhappy to have her around when he had to take care of nature’s calls, but there was not any way around it. He could see he was ill at ease, avoiding her eyes, blushing and speaking in a mumble of words, which made it double awkward as she had sometimes to ask him to repeat himself.
Another source of awkwardness was the fact that Tloche had to be putting Paah-tshoh in and out of her desk drawer so she could change clothes every time she took a bath or before going to bed. She could tell he hated being in there, like a prisoner or a pet. Tloche also found that being compelled to have her room’s door always closed also made her feel like a prisoner, and her self-imposed hermit life was driving a wedge in the friendhip with her roommates, but she was deathly afraid to expose Paah-tshoh to the prying eyes of any woman who surely would be running right to the authorities after seeing the little-extra-terrestrial especially after the shrill news coverage on the radio following the government’s revelations.
But the thing that had her more stressed and wound up was being around such a sexy man, touching him every day, her fingers trembling from pent up excitement as she handled his firm, warm little body. For instance, when she changed clothes, in her room, she got oddly excited to just stand there, stark naked, in front of her desk, running her hands lightly over her body as she bit her lip to contain the whimper bubbling in her lips.
Knowing that there was a man there, who was himself quite aware the reason she had put him there was because she was going to be unclothed, and the only thing separating them, the only thing that prevented each other from seeing their mutual charms, were a few fractions of an inch of wood panels, aroused her to no end. So every night before bed she took of her day clothes and stood there, legs lightly spread, naked, bare toes curling on the cool tiles with suppressed eagerness, her gaze fixed on the drawer where she kept her little man.
It was then when her hands went unbidden to squeeze her burning breasts, to the heat between her legs, but she had to restrain herself, as she was sure he would be able to sniff the lingering aroma of her arousal in her fingers ( even when her period finally went away) when she touched him again to get him out of his wooden confinement. So, she simply sighed, slid her lithe body into her sleeping shift and then fished the unsuspecting Paah-tshoh out.