INTO THE WILD   - introduction -

“You’re short on ideas, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, funny, look who’s talking. You’re the one doing the driving, I remind you. Don’t blame me if we’re lost.” I kick her playfully in the neck. She hardly feels it, of course. I sit down again on her shoulder. Behind me the wall of her hair goes waving in vast undulations as she turns her head, to start her backward driving.
The road has turned into a dusty rut, and there’s no point insisting in that direction.  The sudden jerking motion of the car nearly topples me forth, towards the long slope of her neck, and the inviting hills below. I grab a stray hair, to prevent my falling into my girl’s generous cleavage (she’s wearing the white dress I purchased for her last birthday, an attempt at curtailing the current explosion of colours in her wardrobe these past few months. My hint went totally unnoticed, as she’s draped a flashy red scarf around her waist).
“Ouch! Mind my hair, will you?”
“Sorry, honey”, I say, a bit peeved inside that she noticed [i]that [/i]more than my most lethal karate kick (I can positively break a biscuit in two).

I regain my composure and sit again on the warm skin under the shadow of her neck. The way she’s turned now, her mighty jaw is a vast canopy right above me. In front of me, the impressive length of her left arm reaches out to the gigantic wheel of our little car. I let my gaze drift down to the vast landscape below. I have a good taste for dresses, I congratulate myself pensively. The full length of Noeleen’s thighs are well exposed , two smooth and tanned horizontal pillars, defying my sense of scale, like two vast hills of warm tender flesh. I mentally gauge their texture, warmth and scent, and driving directions are the last thing on my mind, for some reason. The skimpy dress is wedged between the thighs, revealing in their crease, a triangular region worth my attention..

 A bump of the road brings back to more prosaic thoughts. This time I do not dare holding to the lifeline. The fall is inevitable, un-avoided and vertiginous, as I topple from my comfy position into the very landscape I was admiring. A soft bouncing on a rounded promontory, a flash of a white cliff passing by, and I land exactly in the surroundings of my day-dream. I briefly glide to this nether region where the two thighs really become interesting. As I get my bearings, breathing hard on the soft dress, feeling the warmth of the flesh beneath, I feel the thighs parting slightly and the dress  I lie upon sinks deeper into a newly formed valley.
Above, the giant wheel is turning, I smell the plastic of the dashboard, the rubber of the floor carpet below, as if my nose was stuck on it. I am just about beginning to stand up when a sudden jerk of the car sends the thighs closing on me. They trap me in darkness for a brief moment.
“Yo, could you drive AND spare my life, princess? Aren’t you supposed to be multi-tasking with these feminine brains of yours?!” I shout with the first breath I get.
“ What are you doing down there? You’re supposed to help me for directions, not spelunking at your leisure!”
Two fingers set on my body, the rugged prints pressing on my hips. I’m back into the light and deposited on her shoulder again. “Now, just keep holding”, she says, and no pulling, thanks.”  I grab again a few strands of long brown hair, wondering if I shouldn’t just jump back [i]there[/i].

We’re lost all right. The territory is unfamiliar, mountainous, and wild. I love mountains. I always did. But ever since the Shrinking I feel I have a better connection to them. They just seem to treat me like they treat everybody. They just dominate everything and everyone, and to them Noeleen is just as tiny as I am. Somehow I find a strange comfort in the thought, that in the mountains, hell, we’re all small things…

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We get to the place just before sunset. The small camping site is isolated, on the right side of the mountain (we get the sun till late, from the West-orientated valley below) and a small stream is chirping away not twenty feet from our lot. This is good, as it it means Noeleen can talk to me without being heard easily, looking like a loony constantly talking to herself. She’s really excited with the outing, and I glow with a quiet pride from having found out this place in my stubborn web-surfing.

Noeleen has set me on a napkin on the grass as she busies herself unloading the car (one of the many advantages of being tiny is the exemption from such tasks, I say). From my vantage, my pretty girl is an impressive mountain of her own, carrying enormous objects, with an incredible ease. A whole paraphernalia of camping items quickly get strewn all over the place. The silk bras that fall from an open bag are not exactly camping item, but they certainly suit my mood. Always be prepared, I say.

Around me, tall leaves of grass prevent me from seeing much of the landscape, surrounding me like a green curtain, but who needs nature, when your girl is bending forward inside the car boot, her small dress lifting high enough to reveal the full back of her thighs and the white panties it was supposed to hide. The rosy light of the setting sun throws a warm glow on Noeleen’s skin, and she’d be growing a pair of wings just now, I would not be the least surprised.  I sigh with plenitude. “This weekend could well turn out just fine”, I actually utter aloud, my  minute whisper lost in the soft breeze.

Famous last words.

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It’s getting dark now and Noeleen has set our gaslight on the grass nearby. To me, it ‘s a wonderful cylinder of warm light, sending its immobile rays far above my head. Pretty soon, lots of insects start flying around and bumping into the translucent glass, a sight I do not find over-poetic. A lot of these bugs are near as big as my torso, and I can’t help feeling vaguely threatened by their presence. (In my condition, a mosquito is a nightmarish concept).

Noeleen is finishing setting the tent, a vast dome of orange fabric, that looks like a closed stadium. Her vast body is crouched near me, as she sets the last peg in the ground. I watch in awe as she hammers the peg down, drilling a metal shaft twice my size into what feels to me like sheer rock. She often takes in my head the role of the mythic Venus, but seeing her now evokes rather the image of a female Thor or Hephaestus.  But her great bottom is well highlighted by the low lighting of the lamp, and my religious fervour, hardened by the rhythmic hammering, is somewhat slowly evolving into something completely different. Fortunately I’m now lost in her great shadow and I doubt she can notice the change in my physiognomy. When she eventually stands up to admire a handiwork, the sudden development of her beautiful and overwhelming form leaves me yet again gob smacked, and in this natural setting, gazing up at the impossible legs, I do feel indeed like a little voyeur earthworm staring at a Earth Goddess.

After much motion and arrangements, we have settled at last for our rural dinner. Noeleen has warm up a soup on a gaz burner that would shame a decent petroleum factory, and I sit on an upside-down paper glass between the  crossed legs of my girl (who has dressed up in a pair of torn jeans, the temperature is clearly dropping).  I contentedly dine on a few millimetres of the hot beverage, wearing the tiny jumper and  cotton trousers the custom designer of Noeleen’s company was kind enough to create for me. Not too far from us, giant shapes are busy doing the same thing, around the colourfully lit circus tents that pepper the field. Whiffs of conversation and laughter drift in our direction. I feel sad suddenly that to them, Noeleen appears to be a lonely girl, silently eating our diner. Probably won’t be too long before some kind soul asks her to join their group.

“Do you feel lonely with me, Noeleen?”
She looks at me, her face dimly lit by our small lamp. “That’s a new one. No I don’t…. Do you think I should?”
“Well, I don’t know, it’s not like I take too much room in the landscape.”
“No you don’t , laddie.  And it’s a beautiful landscape you found us for the weekend, so I won’t complain.”
“It’s not what I mean, I…..”
“But somehow I’ve never managed to find the switch off button for your chatterbox, so no, again, can’t say I feel lonely.”
A humongous finger brushes past my back.
That does shut me up for a second. She sure knows how to keep up with a deep meaningful conversation.

I can catch a few glances coming from the other tent. “Oh no”, they must think, “The loony next door is chatting to herself. Too long in the wild she stayed.” I sigh.
“It’s just that you always have to keep you voice down, to pretend you’re…”
Noeleen laughs now, a roar of a laughter that rings in my tiny ears.  I love that sound, obviously.
“Oh, my, you’re worried about the folks around, aren’t you? That’s rich.” She glances around. “Hey, wait till I take you inside” she adds, nodding in the direction of the Dome. “They gonna hear far more  than that”.
 I stare at her smiling face, my spoon frozen in mid course. Some people have no shame, I say.
“Hold your horses, your highness, this weekend is to be dedicated to Nature, Spirituality and a Zen approach to life, Remember ?”
“Ow, you’ve read “Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance” again, haven’t you? ….. Well, I’ve just added “Deep exploration of our inner nature” on your shopping list… I really buy that concept, you know”. She winks at me, and, moving her hips forwards, sits so close to my paper glass of a chair, that I could nearly touch the zipper of her jeans. On both sides of me, a wall of jeans fabric has obliterated my view on the camping site. The cliff of her body extinguishes half the stars. She’s driving a tough bargain.

We chat further for a while, till the night is so fully over us, I can’t see anything past the twin hills of her thighs. Noeleen has switched the burner off, and the sky beyond the mountains is all shiny with sparkling dots. I feel the same with the stars that I do with mountains. They totally accept me. Of all the things in the world, they never changed. Only the vast breathing behind me (and occasional deep grumbling within) reminds me of how little I really am. That,  and the fact that when I point at a star I like , Noeleen politely pretends she knows which one I’m showing , of course. The night is alive with the screeching din of the nocturnal insects, and when an owl flies by us, I instinctively set a hand on Noeleen’s thigh.

Inside the tent, the landscape is a confusing succession of blue hills of fabric (which used to be my trusty sleeping bag in times of yore) mixed with mountains of discarded clothes. I tread upon the complex folds of the cold fabric, till I’ve put enough distance between me and the tent opening. After a minute or so, the vast curtains of the entrance are pushed apart by the massive head of my girl, as she starts entering our little abode. I’m reminded of a certain T-Rex doing the same in the movies, except that this head is as large as the T-rex, and the smile that shines in my direction could have chewed the poor animal to pieces, it seems.

Now seeing Noeleen in any room is enough of a show. Seeing her enormous body enter the confined space of the tent is just as scary and wonderful as it gets. In a second the large body has taken all available space, plunging me in deep shadow. Noeleen’s’ face is moving far above, draped in a sea of brown hair that seems bent on toppling down on my. As her torso passes over my head, she smiles at me, repressing a giggle. The next moment, two huge knees are planting themselves on both sides of my little shape, shaking the cover I stand on, and sending me on my back gazing at the vast arch of a jeans-clad crotch.

Far above, Noeleen is stretching up to remove her top, her now naked arms scraping against the tent’s roof. A mountain of wool falls silently nearby. When she starts removing her jeans, the huge mass of clothes crumples down in my direction.  I should run, of course, but I do start to get a glimpse of naked thighs, beyond the crumbling mass of the descending jeans. I am no mouse, I tell myself, and hold my ground.

I‘ve had my share of scary moments, as the Shrinking sent me toppling down the scale of the living. It is a sad but true fact that during the early months of the process, when my mind was still fighting the constantly new and changing reality around me, I’ve been afraid of my girl.

I vividly remember how stunned I was that day, when , having spent two months in isolation in the Institute, I was allowed to see her again for the first time. I wasn’t tiny then, just an incredible midget a quarter her size.  I was sitting on the edge of a table in Professor Lawrence’s office, and Noeleen had burst into the room, searching for me. She had spotted me there and literally jumped in my direction. I was used to the slow calculated motion of the near-by scientists then, and the sudden onslaught of this familiar yet monstrous body in my direction, had triggered a fleeting but intense fright. Noeleen was as overwhelmed as I was at seeing me at this size, but her natural reaction was to come to me, not to shrivel away. I’m quite certain she never noticed my instinctive fear when she suddenly loomed high above me, her large hands coming to my sides, and that’s a real comfort. I thank the stars for that.

I’ve had moments too, when the situation had worsened still, and when, walking in the kitchen for instance, I’d hear the ponderous steps from the other room coming closer and closer, my mind calculating how far I was from the door when she would enter, feeling a cold chill as the large feet would come in crashing on the floor near me. Being stepped on by accident was a real issue for me, and one that remained so for quite a time before I fully adapted to the situation. I’ve had panic attacks, I’m sad to say, in the early days, when finding myself in the grip of warm fingers, I realized that Noeleen was asleep, and that whatever she’d do in her sleep could mean a crushing death. And there was of course the incident, when she had sat down on me, after too much drinking, the night I was kidnapped by Helen..

Yes, living in the presence of a giantess, no matter how delightful and sexy she is, was for a long  time a pretty traumatic experience.  I still can’t say whether it is sheer dumbness or absolute trust that eventually overcame this aspect of our relationship. In my warped mind, I still manage to play the tough guy, I guess, still believe I’m in charge of our safety together, and nothing Noeleen does now is really much a source of worries. Well…

Noeleen has backed away from me a bit to get space for her legs. As the jeans are tossed away in the dark recesses of the tent, I find myself lying on my back with a gigantic statue of flesh straddling my diminutive frame. Noeleen is smiling at me, her head lifting the roof , her hands on her hips, apparently quite please with the situation. Her white sports bra are accentuating the comfortable eminence of her ample chest, and if a man has ever been humbled by this feminine attribute, I’ve got to be this man.
“I’m ready for my first class, master” says Noeleen in a grave tone. Oh well, I might as well join in.
“This is a arduous path you have chosen” I respond in kind, “and many have failed me in my teachings. Do not disappoint me, little beetle.”
I stand up on the sleeping bag. The torchlight Noeleen hung from the roof of the tent is dancing to her movements, and keeps blinding me.
“Now, little beetle, we’ll start with the breathing exercises. First, you will…” I wish she’d let me finish my sentences once in a while. The huge chest is descending upon me like a collapsing Eiffel tower. On second, I look at my girl, the next all I see is that huge breast falling on to me, filling up all my view.
“Breathing under pressure, lesson …” is all I hear, as the tip of Noeleen’s breast is reaching me and I start sinking under its weight in the depth of our inflatable mattress. Noeleen is definitely past the early shadows of our relationship. She’s willing to give herself to me no barrels hold. As she lies down on top of me, obliterating my existence under her soft breast,  I reach out in a hurry for the meagre shreds of Zen buried in my being.

Tbc?

nostromo