Being a beautiful woman, and since her body started to get womanly curves a few years back, Tloche was not a stranger to the feeling of being stared at by men and women alike. As she walked through campus early in the morning, she was horribly conscious of the warm, oftentimes wriggling, ticklish and maddeningly arousing presence of her lover traveling tucked away between her breasts, and she looked down too many times to check there wasn’t any conspicuous lump betraying his presence through her shirt.

 She was convinced everyone was looking at her chest, and she worried the spooks that had paid her an unwelcome visit were around looking for signs of little invaders being carried around on her person. As she walked, trying not to look suspicious, Tloche was also annoyed as she was now also very conscious of how much her boobs moved around when she walked, something usually she was only aware of when for some reason she walked briskly down flights of stairs.

She could feel the poor little man changing positions every time her breasts jiggled particularly strongly. She imagined him being thrown around uncomfortably, and at some points during her walk to the lab she thought she could feel him quite a few times sliding and pushing against her increasingly perspiring flesh with his little hands and feet so he was not dragged and smothered by a tossing, yielding breast trying its best to run him over. It was quite distracting, and she was thankful she had decided to stuff some padding into the strap women in her country used to support their breasts, because feeling him there had her nipples tingly and hard, and they would be showing through the fabric in her shirt if it was not for the padding.

The early hour warranted few passersby, but she felt like the few she encountered were scanning her with their eyes. However, she did not run into any acquaintance until she got to the university lab’s building. There she met the porter, Ms. Durrotessiu, who was always kind and chatty with Tloche, but today she was not in the mood for small talk… she had a mission.

However, she smiled and nodded as Mrs. Durrotessie prattled on for a few minutes… a few hellishly long minutes during which she could feel sweat starting to run down her back and between her breasts as she began to get more and more flustered. She found it oddly arousing to be chatting with someone who was entirely oblivious Tloche had a (naked! And very attractive) man stuck between her tits at the time. These were now almost painfully sensitive, and she could feel heat in her face from a confusing mixture of embarrassment and horniness.

Now that she was standing still listening to the old lady talk, she noticed the inside of her thighs was slick and cool under her long, flowing skirt, slimy with the overflow of her inner juices as she fidgeted in place, the inside of her thighs also incredibly sensitive as they rubbed against each other. The sudden stop and subsequent out-of-rhythm tit bounce as she reached the checkpoint at the entrance of the lab building had also pushed her little passenger uncomfortably under one breast.

It was not as she could reach into her decolletage to make her breasts more comfortable in front of the old lady…. Tloche felt Paa-tshoh tried to stay still at first, but the conversation was taking too long… he began to squirm and at some point he slid up against her sweaty breast until Tloche felt a feathery touch grazing her now very stiff nipple.

A shiver ran down her back, goosebumps burst all over her and she felt her face heated even more and she barely managed to cover the resulting her grunt-moan with an oddly high-pitched throat-clearing sound, which the little stowaway perplexingly took as a signal to increase his grabbyness. But incredibly, Mrs. Durrotessie did not notice anything was wrong. Tloche suffered in silence as the minutes stretched into infinity along with the steady stream of sweat on her face and breasts, and as she felt a weird ticklish sensation down one thigh that was quite likely a trickle running down her thigh as her traitorous crotch drooled in anticipation… as she had decided not to wear a loincloth under her skirt, there was nothing to staunch the warm seep.

Finally, she managed to go past Mrs. Durrotessie without being rude and she went upstairs to the lab, checking behind her that she wasn’t leaving a trail of grool, which thankfully she was not… yet.  There was no one in the building, as was almost warranted by the day (weekend) and the hour (early). She finally opened the door with her key and closed it behind her. After locking it back, she leaned with her back against it, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breath. Her legs felt like rubber.

****

Pacho had ridden in cars, boats, planes, helicopters, horses, camels and even elephants during his time in India, but he found riding on a giant woman to be both exhilarating and difficult. Tloche had offered to carry him between her giant mammaries early in the day to some unspecified errand in her Uni. He said yes without thinking it through, as he was bored with riding on her fanny pack and he had confessed to Tloche that he was afraid she could crush him inadvertently by brushing against another giant. It was safer, she said only half-jokingly to carry him in her “special pocket”, as she called it.

As bras were not used, not even invented in this country at least, women only used a strap of thick cloth to support their chests, tying it like a sash. Well-endowed women like Tloche also used a longish strap which they looped around the armpits so the back of the neck supported the not insignificant weight of the fleshy, bouncy orbs, between a pair of which he was now traveling. It was indeed bouncy, hot, and eventually wet.

As her tits became slicker with the heat of the day and of his own body heat against them, they tended to jiggle, separate and come together with her steps in unexpected ways. It did not help that she started to walk at a hurried pace, clearly eager to get to her destination. Each time she turned a corner, got down or up a sidewalk or stopped, he found himself in danger of slipping under hundreds of kilos (a few tons, perhaps), of jumping, perpetually moving titflesh.

Finally, it happened and after he felt Tloche went up a short flight of steps which made her tits lurch like wild horses, she suddenly came to an abrupt stop and he found himself between her unberboob and the strap, his face against her skin. Fortunately, her tit was very yielding, so he was not crushed and the only problem was the terrific heat and humidity. Then some other giant started talking to Tloche and the giant girl started sweating much more, incredibly. The scent of her skin was amazing.

Even her sweaty cleavage smelled womanly and wonderful, and as he lay sprawled against her, his irreverent dick stood to attention. Then it became too hot, and he feared he was going to suffocate there before the conversation was over. He started to heave and crawl against the cloth and managed to step on a helpful wrinkle in the strap and he felt the top of his head bump into her something hard that was not cloth nor flesh. As he reached up with his hand. Intrigued, he discovered it was her nipple. Unseeingly in the semi-darkness of her cleavage, he ran his fingers along the full foot-long, rubbery nub, Pacho felt the giant body shiver noticeably, and when he grabbed it and pulled himself up so his face was in the slight void created by the stiff nipple against the fabric, Tloche made a strange, strangled sound. Not long after she finally resumed walking. Then, after the jingle of keys, and the rumble of doors opening and closing, all was still.

****

When her breathing had returned to almost normal, Tloche approached one of the scrupulously clean worktables and put her purse on one, delving among its messy depths. Smiling mischievously, she scooped out a small ping-pong paddle-like racket and a small roll of wound-tape. Then she sat on a stool and draped her chest atop the table, delighting on the feel of the cool wood against her now beyond warm breasts. Unbuttoning her shirt, she opened her neckline and beckoned the little man out.

Her lips curved up once more as he walked around on the table, his woody already very evident. He looked around quizzically, and then up at her. She thought:

“If you knew what I have planned…”