He kicked and kicked as fast as he could, but he was propelled primarily from the colossal current behind him. Five kicks and arm strokes of his corresponded to one massive stroke from the giantess behind him. His owner had taken him to an innocuous beach party. After she had drank her fill and had a good time, he took this as an opportunity to escape forever. Perched on her shoulder, he thought she was distracted talking to her girlfriends near the edge, when he took daring jump into the ocean. The water was a safe net for the fall. The current had taken him out quickly. Now, she had noticed and became pissed. He didn’t know that she could swim this well.

              He wasn’t sure what his end goal was: she was much faster than him. All he knew was that each stroke would take him a few feet closer to freedom. Each of her slight breaststrokes closed the gap by sixty to a hundred feet. The good thing, though, was that the force from her pushes swept him away at an alarming rate. She would close in only to have him sucked further away.

              He dared not look back as the force became stronger. That meant that she was only getting closer and closer. Eventually he could hear a giant whoosh a few feet behind him, and he knew what that meant: the next one would catch up to him. Its force knocked him forward out of control. At least this is pushing him away, but he found himself unable to control the direction of his body.

              A few seconds later, she got to him. Her giant hand hit him like a car. Instead of grabbing onto him, though, it seemed to only knock him down. He tumbled into the depths, and finally surfaced gasping for breath. She must have been too drunk to really grab him. He tried to figure out which way was up. She was looming right next to him, about as confused as he was, her head and part of her bikini about the water scanning for him. He could feel the whirlwinds caused by her kicking around below. He went the opposite direction.

              It took her a minute to finally spot him. He tried to swim below the surface as much as he could, but he needed to surface periodically. The current picked up as she descended. She was going faster now, walking instead of swimming. It must be shallower here.

              In front of him flung her expectant palm. He braised for impact as he did not have enough time to alter course. Instead, he heard a giant whoosh and felt himself lounged forward. He was so deep underwater, and then suddenly several feet in the air. She was nowhere to be seen. A wave must have crashed directly behind them, sending both flying. He landed hard on the sand, gasping for breath. A large wave smacked him across his body, but he had no more willpower to do anything about it. His memory became hazy after this.

              He awoke with a throbbing feeling in his head and chest. He was on a soft, slightly curled surface. It would be confusing to him, if he hadn’t been so familiar with it: it was his owner’s palm. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes yet, though. His head still ached, and his body felt like it had been under a rolling pin.

              “Wake up, honey! What’s wrong?” She beckoned above him. The smell of alcohol subsumed his body as she said this. He hated it when she was drunk, and with his pain, he wasn’t ready to leave his tranquility yet.

              “Come on!” she screamed becoming agitated.

              “What’s wrong?” A far away voice called. He recognized it immediately: her friend Rachel.

              “He’s been drowned or something,” she replied her drunken slurs becoming more pronounced over the word drowned. She pokes him with her finger violently. He doesn’t think she means it, but she doesn’t have the coordination to be gentle. Her finger presses into his chest preventing him from breathing. It takes all the resistance he has to avoid wheezing when she finally let’s go.

              “Oh, okay, let me see him,” Rachel calmly reassures. She’s too tactful to show her concern, but Rachel knows that I might get hurt in her drunken neglect. I tumble suddenly and land on a very similar feeling surface.

              “There, there,” she states. “He looks fine. He just needs a moment. Was he swimming?”

              “He done got knocked with that wave,” my owner replied.

              Rachel starts to gently rub my chest with the tip of her finger. She increases the scope until finally rubbing my waist, then my legs, and then even my face. Her finger is smoothing, however. Eventually, I decide to wake up.

              “He’s back!” My owner squeals.

              “Yes, but he looks pretty beat up,” Rachel frowns. “How about I take care of him for a little while and give him back to you.”

              His owner reluctantly nods her head and walks over to something else. Deep down, she knows that she is too drunk right now to really be watching over his fragile self. Rachel will be a nice break. He looks up at her sympathetic eyes.