INTO THE WILD   Part  IV

Noeleen is fuming. She marches ahead with a frightening determination in her step, in spite of the increasing slope (we’re nearing the refuge location, and the first sheets of snow are already within our reach). All I can see is her back and shoulders, where her long brown hair is dancing below the bandana, but I have an inkling that her face must present a interesting mixture of sulking and effort. It’s hard to keep up with her.
I observe the strong lean muscles of her calves, as they pump their way up the slope and the long thighs are glistening with a sheen of sweat.  She’s beautiful under pressure, my little Noeleen.

Hell, I don’t often get to race her up a hill, and I’m all excited. I’m goading myself to reduce the distance between us. I know I can win this race.  In practical terms, it means I’m planting my heels in the shoulder of Vicky, our blond Norwegian tourist, who had the unfortunate idea to offer me a ride and who probably wonders if I ‘m not mistaking her for some horse (Mmmm… I wonder if  I should refrain from yee-haaawing any longer). At any rate, Vicky is a very pretty horse. Under me the soft Scandinavian skin is awash in sweat , as she walks in the hard sun, and I have my hand on some long blond strands of hair, in case she collapses untimely from exhaustion. 

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The girls were mightily scared when they met me at first, but their display of distress was nothing compared to the glee and excitement when they realized who (well, “what” works too, I guess) I was. I’m well used to the reactions of the moving mountains, when they become aware of my existence. My entire life is a long walk in a corridor of glances, open mouths, dumbfounded faces. I’m still amazed with the ways my little presence is affecting these huge beings. As I crawled from under the rocks, I could see the vast girls stepping back in a hurry, their faces in shock, while Noeleen rolled up her eyes in annoyance behind them. I’m a rock star, really, girls swoon when I appear….except they don’t and instead recoil from me in disgust. And I used to be such a charmer…

The usual dance took place. Yes that’s us, blablabla, oh, you saw pictures, did you? Blablabla…. The Norwegian kept glancing at one another and giggling. I kept a composed face full of the dignity that fits my station, hoping in the back of my mind that they weren’t seeing me for the little voyeur I really am. After all, I did not even know their names , I already had a pretty good idea of their intimate loveliness . Formalities were no longer required, I suppose. So much the case in fact, that Vicky insisted on carrying me to the refuge. (Lana is somewhat shyer, a definitive shame, considering her beauty). Noeleen is not too pleased with the idea, I can see that. But she’s amused all the same. I try myself to refuse the offer, but hell, I’m too small to even count , ain’t I? The decision is taken by the girls, who insist so hard, we have to relent.

I find it hard at times to analyze the reactions of people to my condition. From fear to fascination, I’ve witnessed a wide variety of expressions related to the First Sighting. Guys are fascinated usually, and more than a little sorry for the poor son of a bitch who can’t even hold his pint properly. Girls on the other hand are fascinated and always seem to find me cuter than I really am (although I’m admittedly a stud, no doubt about that, I don’t think my sex appeal has been enhanced much by the development) . I suppose the appeal is the same as for the cute little kitten they can hold in their hands, for the boyfriend they can cuddle (and eventually dispose of maybe).

However, the sheer weirdness of the situation is even more striking when I am seen in company of Noeleen. The questions raised about our relationship range from bewilderment as to the stability of our couple, to a real and invading interest for our sex life. Hell, even in Noeleen’s presence, it’s quite amazing the amount of flirting I get to do since I live ankle-high. I suppose girls don’t feel threaten by me any more. I’ve a suspicion the dominance in the relationship is attracting them as well. Here is a guy who’s not about to boss them around, they think.. ( Well, can’t say they ever felt threatened by me when I was tall, as I wasn’t the pushiest of dates, anyway). Or maybe the enormous difference in size is making them forget I’m still a person who can blush or get “interested” in they antics.

Now, as Noeleen is walking ahead of us, I can positively hear every jealous bone in her body scream to her to reconsider the fateful arrangement. Any minute now, she’ll turn round, give a mighty uppercut to Vicky, and re-conquer her man whom she probably sees as straying off the path of faithfulness. There’s a tension in her, that I’m well used to read.  Myself, I’m extremely relaxed I must say. Vicky is delighted with the adventure, in spite of the hellish train Noeleen is running, and between gasps, she keeps giggling and trying to wink at me on her shoulder. Every ten seconds, her massive face is turning in my direction, asking me if all is well, and each time I see closing on to me a lovely scented cheek, that begs a kiss. I think it wise to wait till Noeleen is busy pummelling a bear into submission, to attempt the forbidden act. On we march.

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The blondness of our new friends is matched only by their chattiness. What they say, we don’t really know, but they have a lot to discuss apparently. They take turn carrying me to the refuge. I find that Lana’s hair is somewhat finer that Vicky’s, I need a few more strands to make sure I am not toppled over her shoulder during the ride. The landscape is nearly the same though, a vertiginous drop to an inviting shady grotto between two mounds of tanned skin under their white tops. (The landscape around us is fine too…) The same long thighs appear rhythmically below me, with a sensuous shine to them. Yep, they are still pretty much alike.  Lana’s long neck near me is now a heavenly sight, and I am getting happier by the minute about this unexpected turn of events.

On one occasion, I do lose my footing and slide off Lana’s tanned shoulder. That sends me flying at the end of the blond hair and then bobbing against a generous breast. That breast is happy to see me, t seems, and bounces with glee. As I balance right and left, big letters of some Norwegian brand pass by, a soft and bouncy billboard. I bounce along for an interminable minute while Lana is laughing. Off  I go, and then back, trying to stop the pendulum, my feet finding purchase at times on a very firm nipple that protrudes shamelessly through the thin fabric of her top.. I have the feeling the owner of the nipple does not dislike the gymnastic I’m doing. When the pendulum comes to a stop, I actually find myself astride the little mound, to the joy of my host. I’m splayed against the soft mound, that keeps bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the marching girl. Vicky comes closer, a walking mountain of a girl, and teasingly tries to push me off my anchorage point with a long painted fingernail. The girls are ecstatic, and well, I’m not that unhappy myself.
“You ok, back there?”, comes Noeleen’s voice.
A hand discreetly picks me up and sets me again on the shoulder. Wise, very wise, girls. Below me, the bouncing carries on without me.

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The refuge itself is a disappointment. The small cabin displays some mattresses strewn about on an uneven stone floor, a large ugly wooden table reigns in the “salon”, and the kitchen is badly equipped. I sit on the edge of the table, with that ease that comes from long practice in high distances, observing the three girls as they take a well deserved nap after all this climbing. The way Vicky’s arms is thrown around Lana’s waist is very touching I have to say, and is to my little one-track mind nothing short but erotic, sending me to a contemplation of forbidden pleasures.  Shafts of lights come down from the ceiling windows, and myriads of dust motes dance in the over-heated room.

Noeleen is fast asleep in seconds, with that abandon and trust in Morpheus’ arms, that I liked so much about her, from the very first days we sleep together. Her hair is splayed about in an aureole of brown meshes longer than myself. She’s tired too, and has engulfed gallons of water before going to sleep. Of our little group, I’m the only survivor, it seems, my own fatigue coming mostly from the frustration my dick has been submitted to, surrounded as I was by so much beauty. (I ‘m all for enjoying life to the full, but hey, at times I can show some restraint.)

I drop to the floor, a frightening jump for sure, but since gravity doesn’t care so much for me any more, the landing on the padded back of a rucksack is hardly felt at all. I feel the urge to go and pay a visit to our new friends, as one would to the Rushmore monument. As I near Vicky’s feet, they take more and more the allure of sleeping dinosaurs. My tiny foot steps on the wooden floor are totally silent, so I do not fear awaking them, I must say. I have an easy time climbing the musty mattress, and when my arms finally come on top, I am greeted by the statuesque shape of the sleeper, feeling like a tiny Indiana Jones discovering his next adventure. The pink flesh is not that sweet smelling, but hey at my size, the world of smell is so much enhanced, I am well used to the flagrance of the human beings around me. A boulder of a toe is beckoning me, and I can’t help touching the soft surface of the undertoe, passing my hand over the ridges of the skin. I walk nonchalantly along the sole, a powerful wall of wrinkled flesh, crisscrossed with many lines, whose top I can just about touch. 

In front of me the length of her calf is stretching out in the distance. I follow the long wall of smooth skin, as one would the toppled down pillar of a fallen temple.(I do get near religious, in moments like that). The hairs on the leg are fine, and very blond. I refrain from tugging at one though, that, now, could well stir some trouble. The enormous knee looks powerful above me, and yet very fine and feminine. Hell, both girls could do the catwalk any day. The thigh is just awesome; I walk past the underside of it, letting my hand touch it lightly, while struggling a bit to keep steady on the rugged surface of the mattress. The pale cliff near me is round and inviting. Above, another thigh is piled upon it, too high for me to reach of course. (Vicky is sleeping on her side, nearly spooning her friend Lana) . The vast shape of the thigh disappears in the confines of her red shorts. When I reach them, there’s ample room between the fabric and the skin and I could easily crawl in there. The animal part of me is tugging at my left brain “Go on”, it says, “Just do it, will ya!” The right part of my brain is struggling for a while but wins the day. I decide to go round. 

I pass under the twin projections of Vicky’s comely bottom, the second cheek jutting above me like a rounded cliff. I accelerate my pace somewhat. (My heart does the same). The red short ends at last and I follow the long naked back. Vicky has stripped of her top and sleeps in her bra, whose string is just a few steps away. Her spine is nicely marked by a deep hollow line in the nape of her back. In a few steps, I get near the fabric string of the giant bra.(I wonder at the mammoth breasts this simple “rope” is imprisoning, and I’d love to go on the other side of the great body, but squeezing between Lana and Vicky’s bodies seems a bit risky, even for that prize). Too high for me to reach is a simple knot, in the middle of the brown cliff her back. I am dying to get to it and tug at the loose tie over there, I have to say. Just a healthy reflex, I’m sure. The whole cliff near me is swelling with her breathing, and I’m getting my feet already entangled in the long blond strands of hair that litter the matter. I decide to move away, when the mattress suddenly shakes.

Unseen from me, a vast body is moving behind Vicky, sending earthquake-like ripples through the ground. Hu ho. I start moving backwards already when the giant back start lowering towards me, in response to the commotion. Behind me, a vast thigh is shifting and landing on the bed, dragging the mountainous ass with it. A huge arm and shoulder have appeared above and are falling in my direction. The arm  is landing already on the space in front of me, cutting my retreat.  I still run towards it , feeling more than seeing the wall of Vicky’s back turning and coming to rest on the space I was occupying a second ago. I’m considering panic as a viable option when suddenly a huge shock send me tumbling on the dusty mattress while something unbelievably heavy settles on me. I am one with the mattress as it creaks and sinks under the newly settling weight. More motion and then near darkness.

I consider my situation. My legs are stuck under Vicky’ shoulder blade, my head and torso miraculously are free and positioned under the new and claustrophobic landscape of her armpit. Everything around me is flesh and sweaty smell. A dislocated snorting sound comes from somewhere above. Vicky did not even awaken during her move. Great stuff. Under me, long blond hairs are trying to imprint themselves into my chest (with success I fear).  Bloody hell, I think accurately, how am I to explain this to Noeleen?

Humility is a virtue. Trying to worm your way out from a girl’s armpit during her sleep is a humbling experience, if any. I tug and pull and groan and struggle, in the near obscurity between her back and the fat of her upper arm. If this girl moves another inch…. Already the arm in front of me has come closer, as she poised her left hand on her belly, closing even more the space left for manoeuvres. If she squeezes now, she’ll break my neck and smother me for sure. My sweet Vicky just now has acquired the unexpected sex appeal of a car compressor machine and I want out. So, more groaning, more pulling, more tugging, under the heavy swelling motion of the great back It takes me a good twenty minutes to get free, squeezing between her arm and ribs, trying not to touch any more skin than is necessary. Once my legs are free (I’m strong in many ways since the Shrinking I got to admit), I still have to cautiously crawl my way under the jutting overhang of her forearm. The ground is nothing but strands of hair and the slightest pulling could wake my unaware host. At least I don’t have to breathe her sweat any longer. At last I can stand up, exhausted and coughing out the dust from the mattress in the quiet air of the silent refuge. Bloody idiot, I keep repeating in my head. I stand there for a second, spitting out my lungs, in the shadow of the great sleeping body. Bloody idiot. Just then, an other upheaval starts, as the vast cliff of Vicky’s belly is coming in to view, a descending view of tanned flesh,  that rolls over and buries me under its weight. Oh, for fuck sake...

I cautiously walk past the enormous bodies of our Norwegian friends.
My head is dizzy from the fight against the Great Belly. I was saved by the depression created by a button in the mattress, that gave me head space and breathing air. I confess I had a moment when I sort of doubted my personal luck, as I lied there, in darkness, smothered under the flagrant skin, listening to the gurgling sounds of the giant intestines above my head (Vicky was digesting some protein-filled tablets, the only lunch she apparently needed). The noises are so close and overwhelming, I felt, pressurized on all side as I was, as if indeed I was inside this body, on my way to turdness. Still, I was well aware that death itself would never protect me from Noeleen’s wrath at finding me under another girl’s body and decided to try and crawl again my way out, taking advantage of the breathing motions to extirpate myself from under that belly. A sudden and deafening burst of activity in the nether region (I suspect her drinking the water from that spring earlier is going to produce some unpleasant results later) gave way to some wriggling about and created a window of opportunity so to speak for my launch back into regular space. I squeezed out at last, liquefied by the heat, like toothpaste from a tube. Standing outside again, retching, I did contemplate kicking at that great body, that seemed so bent on keeping me under its power, but I let my cowardly side take over and ran away instead, like a frightened cockroach. Humility indeed…

I shall circumvent by the North road, via the hills of the pillows. It’s Lana’s turn to hold on to Vicky’s waist now. These two are quite attached it seems. I tip toe around the blond domes of their heads, treading lightly on their pillows and aiming towards the brown river of Noeleen’s hair. Beyond her giant head, I can see the bottle of water and near the bottom of that great tower, the cup of water she’d prepared for me. I do indeed feel like a crash survivor. The past forty minutes have been nothing but struggle and heat and pressure. I’ am drenched in sweat , trembling from the exertion and I badly need a drink.

Noeleen arms is extended, and her hand is resting on the brick that serves as a table in this sauna of a room. Carefully, oh so very carefully, I climb on Noeleen’s arm and follow the great trunk to the brick, as one would cross a river on tumbled tree-trunk. Under my naked feet, the powerful pulse through her veins is reminding me this is indeed no tree-trunk. The water is there, fresh and limpid in the little cup. I need at least 1200 gallons of it. I am just about to reach it, savouring it already in my mind, bending over the edge to dip my face in it, when huge fingers close around my body and a dreaming Noeleen brings me close to the loving furnace of her bosom. I struggle against the fleshy pads that surround me, but Noeleen , not even waking up, just snuggles me closer against her throat, like a child would hang on to its favourite piece of cloth. The temperature rises another few thousands notches. Great. Just great….

When the girls wake up an hour later, all refreshed and revitalized, I am no more but a shadow walking on the brink of Oblivion. Noeleen is not too surprised to find me in her grip. Hell, she often enough snatches me at night when she’s afraid to have bad dreams, a fact she refuses to admit as true, despite the evidence of her awakenings. I need to get a camera.
“What were you doing again, buster?” She frowns. “Can’t you just stay on your own for one hour?”
“You know me, sweetheart, I was getting really bored and needed some close company for a change. And it was getting chilly out there.”
“You’re being silly again”, says a distracted Noeleen as she swallows in one gulp the content of the little cup of water.
“Noeleeeeeen!!!”
“What ? "

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Much later that day...

The air is so hot, I feel my body liquefy in the damp musky hole. Waves of juices wash over me, sticking to me, making me one with the flesh around me.  The walls are pulsating vigorously, in a din of squelching sounds and suction noises. Above me, gurgles and liquid displacement noises reveal the presence of a tremendous organism in full motion. My hands are pushing helplessly against the narrow fleshy folds. At times, a finger pries open the entrance of the dark tunnel, mercifully sending some air to my rescue. I’m quite at ease in this strange environment, and I should be pretty content to participate in the confusing upheaval.No really, I should enjoy myself here, yet, something is bothering me. Call me picky, but little details bother me at times, like the fact for instance, that I don’t really know whose vagina this is…

Tbc?

nostromo