It had been an agonizing night.
It had taken him hours simply to get out of the wicker waste basket, and he wasn't sure why he'd bothered, once he got out. After all, the night had brought the incursion of more condoms into the basin, proof that Kari was truly enjoying the giant's company.
When he finally emerged, he was standing on the floor of the bathroom, cold and alone, and bitterly depressed. Still, he wasn't giving up. Not yet. He wished he'd met the beauty a month earlier, or a month later. But nevertheless, he had to try to get Kari's attention. Surely she wouldn't torment him so if she knew he was here, what he'd given to be with her.
* * *
There is something about new love that isn't replicable in any other way. Oh, people in deep, long-term relationships will point out that new love is facile, that a deeper relationship is more meaningful -- and they're absolutely right.
But new love is something else entirely, like being simultaneously drunker and more sober than you've ever been. It's transitory, and you know it's transitory; if you're lucky, you can hold just a piece of it, and let it mellow into the deeper, more meaningful long-term relationship. If you're unlucky, it burns too brightly, and burns itself out. But while it burns, there are few human experiences that can compare.
Kari and Paul were in the midst of new love. Neither knew if it was going to be the kind that flamed out or the kind that deepened and grew. And like anyone newly in love, neither of them were worried about that right now. They were far more interested in finding the sweet spots in each other's psyches, and the sweet spots on each other's bodies. There would be time to think long-term. For the moment, their most important task was figuring out what to do that afternoon.
"We could just stay in and have sex," said Kari. "That's been fun so far."
"Oh, I know," said Paul, "and I'm all for more sex. But you know, I do have to recuperate for a while. I can't keep up this pace forever. I figure a nice lunch, maybe do something fun, then come back, and I should be ready to go until bedtime."
"You know," said Kari, smiling, "it was pretty smart of you to pack for the weekend."
"Well," he said, "I thought it was unlikely you were inviting me to your house just for spaghetti -- not that it wasn't good."
"Hm. You're just after my body."
"Well, it's a pretty nice body, you've got to admit."
Kari chuckled. "All right, tell you what -- you have any interest in art?"
"I don't know," said Paul. "I know it can be pretty."
"I was an art history minor; not useful, I know, but would you be interested in going to a museum? The Art Institution's got a nice collection from the Romantic period."
"A museum?" said Paul. "Huh. I don't know as I've ever been to an art museum, except in school."
"In that case, we can do something else...."
"No, actually, it sounds interesting, kind of. Hey, learning new stuff's part of the fun, isn't it? Just promise that if I try to drag you out on a hike sometime, you'll give it a try, at least once."
"I like hiking," said Kari, "but I'm sure there's something you like that I don't, and I'll try it, at least once."
"Well, you did last night..."
"And I liked it! See, that's how it works."
"Good deal. All right, you want to shower first, or should I?"
"You think we need a shower? I mean, we're just full of sweat and sex."
"Okay, I'll take the first one. It'll give us a chance to get full of sex and sweat again."
"Deal," said Kari, smiling quietly.
* * *
He ignored as the giant came into the bathroom, emptied his bladder, and headed into the shower. The bastard. Strolling around like he owned the place, like he belonged here. The guy soon enough emerged, and dried off, and then, provided Seth with a service.
He knocked a washcloth off the counter. A minor thing, really, but still, it dropped close enough to Seth that he was able to make it to the giant towel before the behemoth conscientiously returned it to a ledge above the sink. Seth clung to the facing of it, not totally stable, but safe enough.
He would wait here for Kari. Surely, she'd have mercy on him.
* * *
She entered the bathroom just as he exited, pausing to give him an encouraging pat and a lingering kiss, which lingered long enough for him to say, "You know, I can shower again if I have to."
"No," she said. "I'll shower now."
"Really, I don't mind."
"No, I want us to have some energy for tonight."
"All right," he said, smiling, giving her one more kiss en passant as she went in and set about showering herself.
She lathered herself quickly, not worrying about perfection; for one thing, Paul hadn't complained this morning when she was a bit disheveled; granted, he was partly responsible for it, but she figured he wasn't expecting her to be dressed to the nines (and if he was, he'd have to get disabused of that notion quickly). She quickly soaped her hair, lathered and rinsed, but didn't repeat. She simply stepped out and toweled off, faced herself in the slightly steamed-up mirror.
She smiled at her reflection. She felt better than she'd felt since she started dating Seth. She wondered, idly, what he was doing at the moment, as she put on deodorant and combed her hair. She hoped that he'd found a girl to spend a weekend with.
* * *
The bathroom grew progressively steamier. His grip grew progressively weaker on the towel, as it soaked in the steam from the shower in which his goddess cleansed herself.
He tried to get higher up onto the shelf above, but as he reached for the looping branch above him, his grip faltered, and he fell.
He screamed as he dropped through the air, until he landed on something creamy and damp.
It smelled oddly familiar, a perfumed scent that he identified with Kari, but he couldn't quite place it, and his body hurt too much for him to look around right away. Still, by the time the shower had ceased, he looked around and saw himself laying on a plain of white, slightly rising to a hill in the distance.
Was it make-up of some sort? He couldn't tell. All he knew when she emerged from the shower was that he was at the very least standing on a stark white background.
"Kari!" he screamed, sitting up and waving his arms above his head. "Look down here! It's me! Seth! I'm down here! Look, please!"
She looked down at him, absently, and her hand reached out.
He gasped with joy. She saw him! "Please! Lift me up! Look at me, Kari!"
She lifted the thing he rested on with her right hand, and brought it up toward her chest. His heart leapt.
Then it sank.
She stopped as the plain reached her shoulder, and then dipped it, lifting her left arm to expose her armpit. And then, too fast for Seth to object, she slammed the plain and him into her pit, sliding and smearing her deodorant and him into a quick, thin film.
He stuck to her underarm, which soon became black, as she lowered her arms to the position they usually were in. Occasionally, he got flashes -- when she dressed, he briefly caught sight of the blouse she was going to wear, and the bra strap was pulled around her vast arm. And occasionally, as the day wore on, he would see her sleeve when she gestured with her left hand.
Or feel the collision with the sleeve and a hard thing from outside it, which he knew had to be her boyfriend.
It was a miserable day, and the fact that her scent still ate away at the perfume smell of the deodorant did nothing to make him feel better. He stewed, catching a bit of conversation from outside his armpit prison, and wishing he was dead.
* * *
"So be honest, did you like it or not?"
"I did," Paul said, holding Kari's hand as they walked out to the car. "I don't quite get the modern art stuff, but the Baroque paintings were just pretty."
"They are. I mean, if Rembrandt doesn't impress you, nothing will."
"And that one sculpture -- you know, with the girl in the bathtub?"
"The Rodin piece? I thought you said you didn't like the modernist stuff?"
"That was modern art? It didn't look it."
"Rodin would have been glad to hear that. He didn't think of himself as a modern artist, but he was really influential in the development of modern art. His sculpture, The Walking Man...."
There was a bit of quiet. "What about The Walking Man?"
"Oh, I just realized I was getting into a bit of an art history lecture. Which you probably don't want to hear."
"Why not? You seem to enjoy talking about it."
"Well, yeah...but I don't want to bore you."
Paul touched her shoulder gently, and turned her toward him. "Kari, if you're boring me, I'll tell you. But I actually am kind of interested in this. It really interests you, and you really interest me, and therefore your interest in it is interesting to me. Does that make sense?"
"Not really," Kari said, sliding her arms around him. "But I appreciate your indulging me."
"Indulge, nothing. I'm actually wondering what The Walking Man was, other than a walking man."
"Well, that's the thing," said Kari, as they resumed their walk. "It wasn't a walking man, not entirely...."
* * *
He was grateful that the deodorant was holding him in place.
They were on the bed, all three of them. And eating...well, it looked like Asian food from the glimpses he got, but what did he know? He was just a piece of lint or a bit of dust, an irrelevancy to his goddess. She ate, and flirted with her boyfriend, and ignored him.
He realized now that she wouldn't see him. Maybe she couldn't see him. Maybe he was too small to see, or maybe Aprhodite's magic left him invisible to her.
He swallowed hard. He was starting to realize that he was in Hell.
No; maybe it was Purgatory. She had said it would be a month. He didn't know how he could last another four weeks, but if he did....
Well, maybe the two lovers would break up. Four weeks was a long time. Maybe she'd tire of him, and maybe Seth would have her all to himself again. That would be fine.
This was unbearable.
He finally got a good look at the tableau as Kari stretched her arms over her head. The guy was naked. This wasn't good.
Kari suddenly took the moment to scratch at him, plucking him off of her skin far easier than should have been possible. He tried to hang on to her finger, but he found himself falling toward a carton of what appeared to be rice. He hoped that he'd simply land in it, and be eaten, but he instead bounced off the facing, and onto the bed below.
He lay there, stunned, as the two began clearing the food away. And he screamed out in impotent rage.
* * *
"I'm impressed by your willingness to eat Chinese food in your bed. You don't worry about getting the sheets messy?"
"Too late for that. Besides, where else are you gonna eat Chinese food when you're naked? It's perfect," she said, stretching her arms out.
"You're not getting tired, are you?"
"Nope," she said, scratching herself idly. "Just limbering up. Have a position I want to try. I've done it once, but my back got sore."
"I don't want you to do anything that hurts."
"Oh, I can take it," she said with a wink, grabbing Paul's flaccid member and squeezing. "Really, it wasn't bad pain or anything. Not nearly as much pain as it was pleasure. And I think you'll enjoy it."
"Well," said Paul, gathering the food, "I can't resist that invitation. And I'm full. Shall we get to it?"
"Let's," said Kari, as she stripped her panties off.
At ground zero, an inaudible voice protested. But she didn't know it, and couldn't hear it. She would have stopped had she.
Probably.
Giantess World
