Oh but I know you’ll cause me grief.

Close friends of mine are in disbelief,

Coz they can see what’s underneath

Fluttering lashes, red lips and

Pearly – white – teeth.

Milla pushed open the door with her rump, carrying the plastic grocery bag in one hand and Simon in the other. Standing on her palm, her two-inch-tall brother balanced easily, used to the swaying motion of her gait and only placing a hand against the pad of her thumb every once in a while to steady himself. Milla swung around, finding the light switch with her elbow; the apartment, darkened by the heavy evening cloud cover, was suddenly washed in bright light. It was small, but well-furnished—and naturally, compared to tiny Simon, it was the size of an enormous cavern beneath the earth.

“Ta-dah!” his sister sang out, holding her brother out at arm’s length as if presenting him to the world. “What do you think? Not so bad for my first year out of college.”

“It’s great, Milla.” Simon craned his neck, trying to look everywhere at once. “You even hung up one of my illustrations!” He pointed to above the couch; there hung a canvas print of a digital illustration, an animesque take on “Saturn Devouring His Son,” where the mad titan was replaced with a rather scantily clad young woman. “Though—I wish you’d picked a different one to blow up to full size. That one’s…”

“But it’s my favorite!” his sister protested, winking at him. “Besides—I had a little grant money left. I wanted to put something here for you, to make you feel at home when you visit.”

“Uh-huh. Well, thanks… it’s the thought that counts!”

Milla moved into the kitchenette and set Simon down on the countertop. He slipped off her palm and twirled a little on the slick, shiny surface, pirouetting like a ballet dancer. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom really quick,” she said, smiling down at him and crossing her legs plaintively. “I’ve been holding it since Kroger. Can you fend for yourself a minute or two?”

“That depends,” Simon joked. “Any pets? A cat? A Simon-eating iguana that got loose?”

“Nope—you’re safe up there,” came the reply.  “Um… Take in some scenery while I’m gone.”

“What a magnificent vista!” he proclaimed as she retreated down the still-darkened hallway. But as the sound of her booming footsteps receded, another sound seemed to seep in to fill the silence. Tinny piano, from a speaker somewhere down the hall. And a British-accented voice singing:

“Fear and delight, all the way through the night; with a little derring-do, I’ll fall in love with you…”

Simon cocked his head. Then he called out: “Milla! Did you leave your Spotify going all week while you were visiting the colony? Boy that’s gonna mess up your Recommended For You.”

But of course, Milla was too far away to hear his small voice; his sister had sharp ears—a live-saver, considering Simon’s stature—but a hundred comparative feet of open air and a solid wooden bathroom door was too far for his voice to travel without his micro-projector. That would have to be the first thing they unpacked from the Jeep… after Milla came back and got the perishables in the fridge, of course.

Boy, she was sure taking a long time in there. Again the strange song tinkled down from the hall:

“Why is it that I’m keen to be devoured by you, when there’s the option of a love affair that’s pure and true; I always choose the dungeon over the sea view, it’s wrong but I want you tonight…”

Then—Milla’s returning footsteps. But as she swept out of the darkness still shrouding the apartment’s back hall, Simon felt a little thrill of alarm sing up his spine. It wasn’t his sister. It was some other girl, somebody he’d never seen before in his life.

“Milla…?” she called out in a clear, booming voice. “Did I hear you come in just now?”

She was a little taller than Simon’s sister—a difference that to a two-inch boy was quite significant. Her hair was a palish brown and flowed down her back in one straight waterfall, and her eyes were also pale, halfway between a blue and a gray. The only thing not pale about her face was her lips: made up a bright cherry red, they glistened under the apartment lights.

Quickly, Simon approached the edge of the counter and waved his arms over his head, making himself as large and as physically “noisy” as possible. True—she was a stranger to him. But she was in Milla’s apartment and seemed to know her; perhaps she wasn’t quite a stranger after all. And besides, when you were as small a boy as Simon, it was better for people to know where you were. That kept you from being crushed, swatted, trodden, or trapped beneath something.

At a certain point, you started to get the instinct for that sort of thing—if you wanted to keep breathing.

“Ahoy! Down here…” he called out.

The strange girl’s eyes darted left and right before swiveling down, alighting on him. For a moment, she didn’t seem to believe what she was seeing. He watched her mind do the typical dance inside her skull, trying to reckon with the feedback her eyes were piping in. He’s a bug, she was thinking. A toy. A hallucination. But as he continued to wave and smile, eventually the truth would hit her:

He was a “tiny”—the colloquial diminutive for a sufferer of Regressor’s Syndrome. As he had been all his life. He was one of millions across the world, but outside of specially built colonies that accommodated fellow sufferers of his relative size, the condition never fully stopped feeling… lonely.

“You’re… him,” she managed to stammer out at last, dropping into a half-crouch to put herself at eye-level with the tiny boy. “You’re Simon. Milla’s brother.”

“Uh-huh,” he shouted up—assuming this giantess didn’t have Milla’s unusually sharp ears. “All right then, who’re you? I assume you’re not a housebreaker, considering that the TV’s still here.”

“Oh. I’m Beck,” said Beck. “Milla’s roommate.”

“Well howdy, Beck, Milla’s roommate,” said Simon. He watched her eyes tracking him, as well as her right hand, which seemed to be moving with a mind of its own, twitching ever-closer toward him. This was actually a fairly typical reaction: if you still weren’t quite certain what you were looking at was really there, what would you do? Touch it of course, or try to. Simon was used to being poked and prodded and scooped up by new faces, even if there was a certain indignity to it.

“You’ve never seen a tiny before, have you?” he asked, grinning slyly up at her.

“Oh—am I that obvious?” Beck stammered, flicking her eyes away and reddening. “I’m sorry, I just… Milla didn’t tell me. And I’d never… I mean, I hadn’t…”

Again her right hand twitched; she placed it on the countertop, quite close to where Simon stood. He noted that her fingertips, like her lips, were painted cherry red, and were just as shiny.

“Could I…” she stammered out. “I mean, would it be…”

Just then, more footsteps approached. Milla appeared from the bathroom, shaking out her wet hands with her fingers fanned out. “Oh—good, you’ve met Beck,” she said. “I take it I don’t need to do the whole introductions dance, do I?”

“You might have warned her,” Simon snarked. “When she came down the hall, her mouth hung open so wide I could have walked straight down her throat.”

That bent Milla over laughing; Beck joined in, but the effect seemed forced. Simon found himself wondering how the two had met… and why Milla had never told Beck about him. Despite the strangeness of his disorder, he wasn’t ashamed of it… and neither was Milla, or so he’d thought.

“You big kidder,” his sister said once she’d recovered. “On that rather dark note—are you ready for dinner? I can get started once I get the other stuff put away.”

“I’m starving,” Simon agreed. “I skipped lunch for your big feast-a-rama… You’d better not disappoint! I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Keep it up, just keep it up,” Milla giggled—but when she crossed the room to where she’d left the grocery bags, Simon heard her breath catch in her lungs. “Si…?” she called out again.

“Yehuh?”

“I forgot the parm.”

“You what now?”

“The parmesan cheese. I think I left it in the shopping cart!”

Simon frowned, crossing to the other side of the counter island to peer after her. Momentarily, he’d forgotten all about Beck, but he could still feel her eyes on him, her gaze pricking into his skin.

“Is that… bad?” he asked.

Milla slapped herself in the forehead. “It’s boneheaded, is what it is. I’ll have to run back out. I can’t even start the lasagna without it. I feel like such an idiot…”

She stood to her full height, fishing her car keys out of her shorts pocket. Then she spun and put both hands on Beck’s shoulders. “Listen—I’m sorry, I know I just got back. But this dinner’s not gonna get made without this stupid cheese. Can you… I dunno, keep an eye on my little brother while I’m gone? It shouldn’t be more than half an hour. Pretty please?”

Beck stiffened and seemed to freeze. “Uh…” She looked at Milla, then twisted to regard Simon. Her face was now completely flushed red, almost the color of her fingernails or lips. And the expression on her face… Simon couldn’t place it. “Uh… Yeah. All right. I can do that.”

“Perfect—you’re an angel,” Milla beamed. She air-kissed the space near Beck’s cheek, then vanished out the apartment door in a whirlwind of cool evening air.

Simon and this strange girl, Beck, were left alone inside the apartment. 

Beck’s eyes turned slowly toward Simon; that odd expression from before was still plain on her features, but she seemed to be hiding her discomfort a little better than before. Perhaps the joke he’d made earlier had ruffled her feathers. Better to try and put her at ease, considering they’d be spending a whole week around each other—along with Milla, of course.

“Before Milla came out of the bathroom…” he began slyly. “You were going to ask me if you could touch me, weren’t you?”

Beck hid her face behind splayed, cherry red-tipped fingers. “It’s like you can see right through me,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I’m really trying to be cool about…”

“No, no—it’s fine! It’s fine!” Simon put his hands out in a supplicating gesture. “Really, you’re being wonderful. Very professional. I was actually gonna offer to let you pick me up, if you wanted.”

Her pale eyes went perfectly round for a moment. “What?” she gasped. “Really? I mean… why?”

“Well, two reasons.” Simon counted on his fingers, the gesture comically large as if he was playing to the back row of a theater. “Item One: You’ve never seen a tiny before, so you’ve probably never handled one. Clearly you’re a little gun-shy around me, and there’s no better way to get over your nervousness around a tiny than by getting your hands dirty… so to speak.”

He smiled up at her, hands on hips in a puckish pose. “You following along so far?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Uh-huh…”

“All right then. Item two. I was just gonna watch TV until Milla got back, but I can’t get down off this counter all on my lonesome. If I’m going over to the couch, you’re going to have to carry me.” He folded his arms behind his back, squaring his shoulders in a very businesslike pose. “So what do you say, soldier?” he asked. “Are we feeling brave today, or what?”

Again, that rogue right hand twitched a little at her side. “I guess that makes sense,” she said slowly, still unsure of herself. “But… you’re sure I won’t hurt you?”

“Milla trusts you, so I trust you,” came the cheery reply. “Plus—I’m a lot hardier than I look. It’s… a strange perk of being this small. Something about the square-cube law. I’m fragile, sure, but I’m much tougher to squish or splat than you might think. You won’t hurt me.”

“All right…” Still she hesitated. Her right hand came up, quivering—she didn’t seem sure how to begin.

“You could just pluck me up between your fingers and it wouldn’t injure me,” Simon told her. “But… let’s start slower than that, eh? Just put your hand flat on the counter next to me and I’ll climb up into your palm. That’s how Milla carries me, and it’s plenty safe.”

Silently, Beck did as he bade her. Her hand descended, large as a landing helicopter, until the back of it rested on the cool countertop. Her fist uncurled, opening her palm like a flower blooming. Immediately, Simon jogged toward it and before Beck could even gasp, he had scrambled up over the edge and sat down cross-legged in the palm of her hand, just next to the crease of her long heart-line. The texture of her skin was like corduroy, firm yet very soft, and almost instantaneously his nose was filled with the sweet overpowering aroma of her hand-lotion. Her hand twitched a little underneath him, and she stifled what sounded like a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asked her.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “Just—it’s such an unusual sensation. And I guess I’m still a little nervous.” Again, she recovered quickly, coughing behind her other fist. “Are you ready to…”

“Elevator—going up,” sang out Simon.

Beck seemed to steel herself… then without much warning, her enormous hand lifted up. Simon was used to travelling in this manner of course, so his stomach did not drop out inside him like it might have otherwise. But again, a strange and silent thrill shot through him. It was always a little bit leery being handled by a new person, especially without his protective big sister around. He had never encountered somebody who fit this mold, but he had heard stories on the internet… of normal-sized folks who took perverse pleasure in abusing or torturing or even killing tinies.

But again: this was Milla’s roommate. And she’d trusted Beck enough to leave him in her care. That would have to be enough for him… and besides, she seemed so nervous even to touch him.

Up, up, up he rose—until he was just level with her face. Nearly level with her lips, he thought. He wondered again if he’d be able to see his reflection in her lip gloss. They were large enough to be sure; he almost considered asking if she’d hold him a little closer for a peek.

“All right,” the titanic lips opened and said, “what now?”

“Just bring us over to the sofa.” He pointed, rising up a little on her hand. “You’ll have to work the remote for me—I left my micro-projector in Milla’s jeep. You don’t mind do you?”

“Um. No. Of course not.” Her hand had begun to sweat a little under him; he gave the palm a pat with his own hand, a simulacrum of a high five. A few short thunderous steps later and they arrived in the den, and Beck eased herself gingerly down onto the leather sofa. The hand not holding Simon scrounged for the remote and, finding it, clicked on Netflix. The other hand dropped down to the surface of the couch, the fingers curling ever-so-slightly around him, cradling him comfortably.

“Where do you normally, uhm… sit?” Beck asked. “I’m a little worried about crushing you still.”

“I guess the arm of the couch?” Simon replied. “Truth be told… with Milla I usually just sit on her shoulder. But the arm will be plenty comfy too.”

Beck’s hand lifted him up once more, drifting towards the curved arm of the sofa—then stopped. Simon found himself ferried back, closer to Beck’s torso, halfway up to her shoulder. She was wearing a dark blue sweater that sagged down, showing a lot of her upper shoulder and some of her collarbone as well.

“If… if you think it would be more comfortable,” she said. “I guess… I’d like to try it.”

Simon shrugged—then stood up from her hand and hopped nimbly off it, catching handholds in the coarse wool of the sweater and climbing hand-over-hand to her shoulder. Like in her hand before, he sat down cross-legged, only this time he was surprised at what he felt beneath him. Far from the softness of his sister’s own shoulder, Beck had some muscle on her. Her deltoid was curved, firm and strong under his slight weight. A swimmer, Simon guessed. Maybe even a gymnast? Again he gave her a pat with his open hand, causing her to twitch at his ticklish touch.

“Thanks!” he called up towards her ear. “Lovely accommodations. Remind me to leave a Yelp review.”

This got a giggle out of her, a genuine one this time. She was already getting much more confident around him. Good. The week’s visit might have been an anxious one if she stayed jumpy.

“What do you want to watch?” she asked, angling the remote at the TV screen and the endless scrolling icons for movies and Netflix Originals.

“Something scary,” he replied. “I’ve been on a horror kick. They got any good slashers on?”

A few minutes’ scrolling later, Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday was blazing on the screen. As buxom, airheaded teens got slashed, axed, stabbed, and sundered one by one, Simon’s own anxiety slowly left him, replaced with the artificial thrill of watching the hulking killer stalk his victims with eerie grace. Soon enough, half-forgetting that it wasn’t his sister’s shoulder he was perched on, he sidled away from the edge, curling up against the hollow of Beck’s long neck. He heard her breath catch in surprise at his touch, but she didn’t remark on it or ask him to move. If anything, the pulse under her skin seemed to quicken with pleasure—though this could have been from the horror on the screen as well.

He nestled against her, a harmless enough gesture, and listened to her heart racing inside her. It was a soothing noise, counterbalancing the screams of terror and flashes of violence leaping off the screen.

This might end up becoming a very pleasant vacation after all. 

In this way, the evening progressed. On screen, Jason’s impressive body-count rose and rose. And on Beck’s shoulder, Simon found himself becoming more and more at ease. He’d seen all the Friday the 13th movies a few times already, so the jolts didn’t scare him much; and the sound of Beck breathing was quite soothing—plus the little quivers of pleasure she gave whenever he adjusted his position against the hollow of her throat gave him an odd thrill every time they happened.

He wondered what it was like for her. Probably like holding a kitten, he decided. Or something even smaller, like a hamster. He knew his body temperature was naturally elevated as part of his condition; cuddling with him in this fashion was likely similar to using a heat-pack on a sore shoulder.

Soon came a slow section in the movie. Jason wasn’t killing anybody; the characters, boring cutouts that they were, were just talking to each other about their meaningless lives. In a way, Simon thought, they were even smaller than him. They had no real depth or purpose—only bags of blood on legs for the killer to carve up for his entertainment. He was more human than any of them…

“Hey… Simon?”

Beck’s throat vibrated as she spoke, startling him out of a reverie. “What’s up?”

He looked up at her; her face was still angled at the screen, and from his position he couldn’t really see her face in its totality. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” she asked.

Simon smiled. Finally—she was comfortable enough to be curious. “Go on and ask,” he replied. “I’m an open book… for real. Anything you want to know.”

Beck took a breath, held it, then let it out. Clearly she was gearing up for something, something big. “I thought about it a while,” she said. “What I want to ask you. I thought about asking what it’s like to be as small as you are, but honestly I can imagine that well enough. Plus, you must get asked that all the time, enough to wear you out.”

Simon’s eyes widened. This wasn’t what he was expecting. “I guess that’s true…” he replied. “Do you think about that… a lot? About what it would be like to be small?”

“Not exactly like that.” There was a nervous giggle to her voice, and her face reddened slightly in the harsh glare coming off the screen. “It’s just that I’d never met a tiny like you before, but I imagined what it would be like. Meeting one, handling one. Even being close, like we are now.”

“Huh…” Simon scratched his head again, considering this. He’d never really spent time this close to somebody who wasn’t in his immediate family—his sister, mostly, or his mother. He’d never thought about it much himself, but how they were positioned now, nestled together, it felt…

What was the word? Intimate. At least, it felt nice. Like his heart was a candy apple inside of him.

“How does it feel for you?” he blurted suddenly, prompting another nervous giggle from the enormous girl who’s shoulder he was curled up on.

“I thought I was asking the questions—Mister Nosy Pants,” she reprimanded him. But that fidgety right hand rose up and, to his great surprise, actually cradled him for a moment, stroking him with her fingers. Then it retreated once more, resting on her bent knee.

“All right, all right. Fine. Ask your question…”

“I wanted to know… about you and your sister,” Beck said.

“Me and Milla?” Simon said. “What about me and Milla?”

“About… about that joke you made earlier. It made her laugh but I didn’t understand what was so funny about it. About you… walking down my… my…”

Throat, Simon finished for her—in his head. Why was she so reluctant to say it?

But outside his thoughts, he only shrugged. “Oh… That. It’s a little bit of a private joke, between Mill and me. An inside joke, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

Beck’s head turned only slightly, enough to look down at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m not following you,” she stammered.

“Seriously? Milla never told you about the lasagna scare from three years ago?” But before Beck could shake her head, Simon smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “No duh, Si! You didn’t even know I was a tiny—how could she have told you?”

“So what happened?” Beck asked.

“If you really want to know…” Simon hesitated. It was a little bit of a private story, and an embarrassing one to boot. Plus, it was almost as scary as a hockey mask-wearing killer axing coeds. But they were already pretty close… and something about the quiver in her voice, that begging shiver… it made him want to tell her. It made him want her to know everything about him. He’d never felt like that before, not once in his tiny life. So he said:

“All right—this is a little bit embarrassing, but I promised you an answer, so I’ll get you an answer. I told you already that I’m pretty tough for my size. Tough to squash, tough to swat, tough to break. Or tougher than you’d think I would be. Well, I didn’t get to be twenty-one without putting that to the test over the years. Even when your family and friends are super-careful, there’s a lot that can happen to a small boy like me. I’ve been smacked off tables, sat on, squeezed too tightly… you name it. But until my eighteenth birthday, there was one common tiny-specific accident that had never happened to me.”

Beck said nothing—she only stared straight forward at the TV screen, seeming to hold her breath. Simon continued on, picking up some steam now:

“It was my birthday, so I got to pick where we went out to eat. I’d never been a big Italian guy, but there was this new place in our hometown I’d been hearing all my friends from the colony talking about, and even though their tiny accommodations weren’t quite up to code yet, I begged my family to go. So we went—and it turned out to be the wildest night of my life so far.”

“Was the food that good?” Beck snarked.

“Just you wait and see…” Simon retorted. “Since they didn’t have food portions in my size, I had to order a full-sized plate of lasagna… probably my favorite Italian dish. So I’ve got to root around on this huge hot plate to tear off chunks of this thing with my bare hands you know? And I guess I must have ducked under a shelf of flat noodle or something. That’s when Milla decided she wanted to try a bite of what I had, and plunged her fork down into the lasagna… right next to where I was crawling!”

Beck gasped. “No. She didn’t…”

“Ask her yourself when she comes back,” came the reply. “She came this close to spearing me. I could literally feel the metal against my arm, I kid you not. It scared the heck out of me, but I didn’t even get a chance to scream—because when the fork went up, she got a big mouthful of my lasagna… and a big mouthful of me too. And I tried to scream to her, really I did… but it all happened so quickly. Before I know it, she’d stuffed me in her mouth. And nobody knew I was gone.”

Simon shivered a little, recalling the memory. It wasn’t a story he told often. But he felt duty-bound to complete it now—on to the strange and bitter end…

“Of course I was terrified,” he continued. “Absolute pants-to-be-darkened scared. But I wasn’t too scared to fight back. I got tossed around her mouth, smacking up against her teeth… it was a huge miracle she didn’t bite down on me while she was chewing. But every chance I got, I pounded with my fists and screamed. Not that it did me much good. I didn’t get bitten but she also never realized I was there… at least, not until it was too late.”

In Beck’s lap, that nervous right hand made a tight nervous fist. But the girl it belonged to said nothing.

Simon went on: “I never thought it would happen to me, least of all because of my own sister. But you don’t need to be a science major to guess what went down next… me. One minute I was sprawled out on her tongue, in the middle of all that chewed-up lasagna. The next: GULP. Down the hatch. She didn’t even feel me go down, how messed up is that? I’d never felt smaller or more scared than when I was inside Milla’s throat, sliding down inside of her. I thought that was the end of me for sure.”

“But… but you got out,” Beck stammered. “How?”

“Only a stroke of pure brilliant luck,” Simon reported. “My sister’s got incredible ears. She might not have felt me slip down her throat, but once I was inside her stomach, she was actually able to hear me calling out for help. I guess it was quieter inside her head when she wasn’t chewing. So before anybody else realizes what’s happened, she excuses herself to the bathroom, goes in a stall, and manages to spit me back up. I was only inside her for about five minutes. She cleaned me off, came out, returned me to my plate—and nobody was any the wiser. Even my parents don’t know it happened.”

Simon rubbed his cheek, staring up at the soft place under Beck’s chin. “So, we joke about it now. I guess tragedy plus time is comedy. Any time I talk about getting eaten, it’s a reference to that birthday. And it’s how Milla gave me my nickname.”

“Si? I thought that was just short for Simon.”

“That’s the freaky brilliant part. It is. But it’s also an acronym… S.I. Secret ingredient. Apparently… I, uh. I taste pretty good covered in marinara sauce. Granted, that’s a data point of one, but…”

“Your own sister told you this?” Beck interrupted, aghast—but this was mixed in with something else.

“My own sister swallowed me whole,” came the reply. “It kind of changed the dynamic of the relationship a little. If we can’t joke about it, then what was the point of it even happening?”

Beck had no answer to this. She just stared at the screen, looking past the screen, seeing—what? She seemed lost in her own world… in her own imagination. Simon finished up:

“So—that’s the scariest and wildest thing that’s ever happened to me. Not a lot of people know about it, either so… keep it under wraps, I guess? I’m surprised I even told you. But I guess there’s a first time for everything huh? Now, I think I get to ask you a personal question… since I’m such a great storyteller.”

“Huh?” This seemed to jolt Beck out of a daze. She shook her head, making her hair move in waves down her back, but not so much that it endangered Simon’s perch on her shoulder. “Uh… Sure I guess. What do you want to know about me?”

“I want…” Simon started to speak, then hesitated. “I want to know…” For an instant, words left him. And that song, that strange song from earlier, played over and over in his mind like a record skipping:

“Fear and delight, all the way through the night… Fear and delight, all the way through the night…”

But which was he feeling now? The fear? Or the delight? What made his heart feel like this?

In a faraway kind of voice, he heard himself say:

“I guess I want to know why the joke bothered you so much. Why I bothered you so much. I’ve met lots of people who get skeeved out by tinies, but a lot of them are jerks or careless people who don’t want the trouble of having to watch where the step or set their drinks down on the table. But you… you’re like Milla. You’re careful. You’re considerate. You’re…”

“You’re making me blush,” Beck cut in—and indeed she was.

“You’re you,” Simon pushed through. “But in spite of all that, you’re still so… agitated around me. I want to know why that is. Are you… scared of me? What’s going on in your head, Beck?”

Playfully, he stood up on her shoulder and, reaching up on his tip-toes, tapped the side of her skull with his pointer finger, just next to her ear. She giggled at his touch, the ear wiggling a little bit as her lips pulled back in a nervous smile. “Stop it… I don’t want to tip you off of me,” she protested. “I’m not… It’s not that I’m nervous because of you. Or that you… that you make me nervous.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Simon said, walking his fingers along her skin, across her cheek.

“You’re… Oh, you’re doing this on purpose! It’s not… I don’t feel agitated. Not really. It’s not…”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s… It’s…”

But if Beck was going to say more, she never got the chance. Suddenly on the TV screen, Jason lunged into view, waving his machete. The music was a squeal and a shriek of harsh strings. Simon jolted and cried out in fright and surprise, but that was nothing compared to Beck’s reaction. She sat forward suddenly, her whole body seeming to convulse with the shock. And it sent tiny Simon toppling forward…

And then he was falling, falling, falling…

The brief sensation of freefall startled him for sure. But Simon knew, in the back of his mind, that he was safe. He’d bounce off the front of Beck’s sweater and fall in her lap, or between her legs on the sofa. He’d fallen from greater distances and popped back up, right as rain.

He knew he was safe. But he had no idea how safe he truly was.

He hadn’t counted on Beck’s sweater sagging quite so low at the neckline. So instead of bouncing off, he suddenly plunged into warm cramped darkness. Headlong, Simon plummeted towards her cleavage; then his momentum plunged him suddenly between her breasts and into the warm embrace of her titanic bosom. He didn’t even have time to cry out before the soft, pliable flesh completely swallowed him up and he disappeared from view.

High above him, Beck gave a surprised yelp as he vanished between her breasts. She immediately shoved her hand in after him, but as her bosom separated to give her room to search, the pressure on Simon released—and he slipped even deeper into her warm depths. He felt his mind go strangely blank. The smell of her, that same heady scent of her lotion he’d smelled on his hand. It mixed with he warmth and the darkness into an intoxicating cocktail. His eyes almost rolled back into his head, and he felt…

A stirring. Down there… something he’d never really felt before in that way.

It confused him. It frightened him a little. But it felt good, so good, good like nothing else had before.

Fear… and delight. With a little derring-do, I’ll fall in love with you…

But surely this could not be love. He didn’t know this girl, not really. And this was no way to fall in love with somebody, swallowed up whole by their bosom after a cheap slasher jump scare. But then, what was the feeling that was making his whole body feel shivery and sugary? Did it have a name? Had anybody ever felt like this before in the history of the world?

But even this reverie could not last. With a determined yelp, Beck finally managed to get her hand into position between her breasts, prying them apart with the other hand, stretching the fabric of her sweater’s neckline in the process. Her fingers closed around Simon’s sticking-up leg, and she fished him out of her bosom, holding him directly in front of her face.

She filled his vision like a huge full moon, down to her pale skin and eyes. Again, the only spot of real color in the entire display was her huge red lips—and from that angle, Simon got his answer. He could see his reflection in the curve of her pouting lower lip. But it was her expression that captivated him most in that moment. She was out of breath; it came in warm huffs from between those ruby-colored lips. And she was staring down at him with alarm… and intense interest as well.

It was almost desperate. It was almost angry. It was almost hungry.

“You asked me why you make me so nervous,” those huge lips said, in a whisper that still blew back his hair. “Well… that’s not what I feel. That’s not what I feel at all…”

Beck took a breath through her nose, held it, let it out slowly.

“I’m not nervous around you,” she uttered in a voice that seemed to come from deep inside her.

“Simon… I think… I think I’m turned on.”

Simon gaped in shock. He was still dangling upside-down, held gently but firmly by one leg between the tips of Beck’s enormous finger and thumb, in front of her equally titanic red lips—lips that had just spoken words he could barely understand, could hardly comprehend.

Had she really said it? That she was turned on… by him?

“What…?” was all he could manage to say, his voice breathless. “What… was that again?”

For a moment, Beck only looked at him, that same intensity still burning in her gaze. From behind her lips, her pink tongue snaked out, moistening her lips with a quick and furtive movement. Then as if a spell had been broken, her old nervousness seemed to come flooding back. “Oh… Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “Just please… forget I said that. Forget I said anything…”

With shaking hands, she lowered Simon so that instead of dangling from the fingers of her twitchy right hand, he lay sprawled in the palm of her left—her more responsible left, the tiny boy thought. Almost as if each had a mind of their own somehow…

But this thought did not linger long. Immediately he sprung to his feet and walked to the base of her hand to be closer to her face. “Hold on,” he began. “Just… just wait a minute. What did you mean, you were turned on?”

“Oh—please don’t ask me about it.” Beck covered her lovely face with her other hand, peering at him through splayed fingers once more. Behind this mask, Simon could see she was flushing mightily. “I… I take it back. I never should have said that. Not to Milla’s little brother…”

Not that little, Simon thought a little ruefully—even if was a lie. But out loud he said:

“But how? How is it even possible? I’m like… a hundred times smaller than you. Two hundred.”

“That’s…” She sighed deeply, again blowing Simon’s hair back. Her eyes darted to the apartment door—and slowly, a change seemed to come over her expression. Like she was considering something. At that scale, it was easy to see her features change and twitch as the machinery of her mind turned. For a moment, she would not look at him, biting down on her lower lip between her sharp white teeth. Then she fixed him with her gaze, some of that old intensity coming back into her eyes.

“All right,” she said. “You told me an embarrassing thing—I guess fair is fair. But you have to promise me something…” Again her gaze flicked to the door, locked from when Milla had left. Beck held Simon closer to her face, so close that he was right in front of her eyes. “You have to promise me you won’t tell Milla I talked to you about this. I’m not even sure she knows about it… and if she knew I was talking about it with you—oh God, I’d just die, Simon. So… can you keep a secret?”

Simon stared into her huge pale eyes, feeling the enormous pressure of her stare. He was certain that in that moment, if he had been back between her breasts, he’d have heard and felt her heart beating a hundred times a second—or was that the sound of his own heart?

Swearing himself to secrecy was risky… but before he knew it he was nodding earnestly. “I can’t exactly pinky swear,” he said, trotting quickly over to Beck’s own huge pinky finger and shaking it for emphasis. “But yeah, I promise.”

That got another laugh out of Beck. “Milla should have warned me about you,” she groaned. “You’re impossibly… cute.” Even this sent a thrill through Simon, but he didn’t remark on it. Instead, he just moved back to the giantess’s palm and sat down cross-legged, waiting for her to continue.

“I told you before,” she began. “I’d never met a tiny before you, not in person. But I’d always wanted to. I imagined what it would be like… interacting like this. Talking, and uh… handing a tiny. Kind of snuggling, like we were before. I had no idea you would actually let me do that, but you cuddled right up. It was… it was exactly like I’d imagined it would be. Like I’d… fantasized about.”

Simon’s eyes got round, but he stopped any interruptions behind a hand clamped over his mouth. He laid his other hand against her palm, rubbing it back and forth very slowly, pleased to see Beck give a little involuntary shiver when he did so.

“Oh Simon,” she said, blushing redder still. “Even that… it…”

“It feels good?” he asked—to which she nodded enthusiastically, in spite of herself.

“But it’s more than that,” Beck whispered. “I’ve read… stories. About other things a normal-sized girl and a tiny boy can do. Games… and other things. So when you tumbled off my shoulder and…” Her gaze dropped, again directing Simon’s attention to the great valley of her cleavage. “Fell… down there. Between my breasts… it was another piece of the puzzle. Another part of my fantasy.”

Simon cocked his head to one side. “Let me get this straight. You’re turned on… because I’m small?”

Beck shook her head hard. “No! Well… Yes. That’s part of it. Oh—God, how did I get myself into this?” She moved a strand of hair out of her face and looked down at tiny Simon almost apologetically. “Yes, I’m turned on because you’re small. But also because… Milla told me about you, but I didn’t expect you to be, well, you. You’re sweet. You’re dorky. You’re confident. You’re funny. And I meant what I said before, you really are cute. It’s… almost overwhelming. Even with you just sitting in the palm of my hand, it’s like you’re overpowering me. Like something’s taking me over…”

The fingers of her left hand curled up a little, half-caging him; her nervous right hand joined in, cupped beneath the left. She brought him close to her face, directly in front of her lips. He watched her mouth approach closer and closer with sudden alarm—but all Beck did was moisten her lips once more, then inhale deeply through her nose, sighing in contentment after.

“I’m sorry…” she said again, bringing Simon away from her face. “But even the smell of you…”

“I’m surprised you can even smell me,” he replied, wiping a little nervous sweat off his brow. “Your lotion… it’s pretty potent. And it was a lot stronger when I was… spelunking.”

“Is it that bad?” Beck apologized. “I can’t even smell it. All I smell is… is you.”

“Not bad,” Simon said. “Just… strong. Like swimming in a perfume bottle.” He scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. There it was again, that strange stirring feeling inside of himself. What would it be this time? The fear—or the delight?

“You were serious, then,” he stammered out. “About thinking I was attractive. Even at this size?”

“Not to make a big joke about it—but I could just eat you up, Si.”

In spite of himself, Simon let a grin loose. “I guess… you could smell me again. If you wanted to.”

Beck didn’t wait for a second invitation. This time she held Simon directly beneath her nose, cupping her hand so that he was almost trapped against her lips and chin. She breathed deep, moaning deep in her throat with pleasure—and Simon breathed in too. In her hand, the smell of her was powerful enough. But next to her face, mingling with her minty breath… he thought he would pass out from exposure. The effect was almost hypnotic. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if she would be willing to slip him back between her breasts, only for a moment… Oh, just to feel that close to her again, to be surrounded by her, swallowed up by her flesh and her affection…

But then another idea occurred to him. And without another thought, he stood up, still in the shadow of her face and her cupped hand. He trotted quickly forward across her palm towards her mouth…

…and standing on his tip-toes, he leaned in and planted a kiss against her lower lip.

For a moment, Beck froze—indeed, time seemed to freeze with her. Simon stepped back, suddenly horrified… What if he’d overstepped? Should he have asked permission first? Worse—he hardly knew this girl, really. What if… she was angry with him? What would she do to him now?

But in one smooth movement, Beck put all the tiny boy’s fears to rest. Her lips spread in a surprised and delighted grin. Cupping her hands even tighter around him, she lifted him up and pressed him against her enormous lips. The sensation was unlike anything Simon had felt before. He’d been kissed by his mother of course as a child, and occasionally Milla’s normal-sized friends had pecked him on the cheek—mostly as a joke. And he’d even shared a kiss or two with girls his own size, living at the colony. But compared to this, none of those experience seemed to matter. There was no comparison to the electricity that was flowing through him in that instant.

Beck’s lips were smooth and soft—and a little sticky, from her lipstick. Pressing against them felt like being pressed into a feather bed, one that twitched and parted to accommodate the movement of his body. His face was directly in the center of her lips, pressed against the seam between them. For a moment, he simply let himself be pushed into them, into her… Beck seemed to be waiting for him, for some signal. He gave it. He returned the kiss, putting his tiny lips against her titanic ones, and placing his hands to either side, pressing against the swell of her bottom lip.

The effect was immediate and immensely gratifying: Beck shivered all over even at this touch, and let loose a whimper from her chest that might have deafened him had it been much louder. She pressed him tighter against her, increasing both the pressure and the suction slowly… until suddenly, one of Simon’s arms was sucked between her lips. For a moment, he groped in the darkness of her mouth, feeling the hard wall of her bottom front teeth… and the moist fleshy touch of her tongue as it slid deftly over his hand and across his arm…

Then Beck broke the kiss, bringing Simon away from her face once more. She was panting and red-faced, completely out of breath, staring at him in utter fascination. Simon brought his hand up to his own face, wiping his cheek—his hand came back red, covered in lipstick. Suddenly he burst out laughing.

“What…” Beck panted, looking down at him in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m picturing it…” Simon replied, still laughing. “I bet I’ve got a big kiss-print across my whole body!”

“That’s what you’re thinking about at a time like this?” Beck protested.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… I didn’t know what to say. That felt…”

“Yes?”

“It felt really good, Beck,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied, blushing. “It felt… good for me too. And…”

Now it was Beck’s turn to laugh, in her usual nervous timbre.

“Your sister, she wasn’t kidding,” she said. “You do taste kind of good. Even without the pasta sauce.”

“Well… I am the secret ingredient.” Then Simon peered up at her huge, beautiful face. The words he spoke next felt strange to him, and probably should have made him nervous… but again he felt sweet and sugary all over, still tingling across every inch of his skin from Beck’s kiss. He asked in as insinuating of a voice as he could manage:

“That’s part of it for you—isn’t it? My… my taste?”

Very slowly, Beck nodded her head. Again she licked her lips, but this time there was nothing secret about the display. “I don’t expect that you’d understand it. I don’t even really understand it myself. But I want… I want… Oh, cutie, are you going to hate me if I tell you?”

Simon shivered—but he put his hand against hers, running his fingernails across her skin comfortingly. “I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he murmured so low she probably couldn’t even hear him. “Just… say it. Just tell me what you want.”

Beck chewed her lower lip, looking almost miserable. “Oh—Milla should have warned me. She really should have warned me.” Then she seemed to steel herself, and said breathlessly: “There’s a part of me that wants to just put you back on my shoulder and keep cuddling, and have that be the end of it. And there’s another part of me that wants to kiss you again, or to slip you back between my breasts and feel you squirming there like you were squirming before. I want to feel you all over me—you, Si, not just some imaginary tiny from my fantasies. Your sweet, brave, loveable self. I want you to explore me all over, to roam across my body like a landscape. I want to feel you everywhere. But most of all…”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Here it came: the big admission. The plunge over the edge…

“But most of all, I want to taste you. All of you. To feel you slip between my lips, completely inside… where I could taste you completely, experience every inch of you, seal you up within me, and then… Simon, please please please don’t hate me for this, but after that… I want to swallow you whole. Just like Milla did. Oh God—I’ve never wanted anything more than that, to feel you slip into my throat and slide down inside of me, deeper and deeper, completely surrounded by my love. And then… you’d be inside me. Inside my stomach. I’d feel you moving and hear you talking, all inside…”

Simon was stunned into silence. A million thoughts raced through his head, chief among them being: Had she really just said that? Had this beautiful girl really told him that she wanted… that? Immediately his thoughts flew back to that terrifying scene three years ago in the Italian restaurant, but even as he relived that terror, nothing could pull him free from this other feeling that had him in a soft pillowy grip… like how her lips had felt, he realized. Like how kissing her had felt.

He knew how his body and mind should be responding to a giantess saying she wanted to gulp him down. But this… was not that response at all. And he almost wasn’t afraid of it.

Beck pressed her red-tipped hand to her face, hiding her ashamed expression. “But I never should have told you any of this,” she moaned. “But it’s like I said… I feel almost helpless around you. Even though I could do anything I wanted to you, anything at all…”

Suddenly she swept her hand away from her body, moving Simon towards the arm of the couch, far away from her. “You can get off here, if you want. You’ve been so nice and understanding but… I know how all that must sound to you. You must be terrified of me.” She chanced a look Simon’s direction, out of the corner of her eye. “You are scared of me now… aren’t you?”

The silence seemed to hang infinite between them. Simon stared up at her—up the length of her pale arm, past the swell of her breasts under her sweater (where he’d been imprisoned mere minutes before), lingering on her collarbone and on the white length of her throat, then on her twisted-up red lips, before he finally settled on her huge blue-gray eyes. He was shocked and moved to see how much fear there was in her eyes, how much worry and hurt… she thought she had threatened him scared him. But what she’d really done was lay herself bare, made herself vulnerable to him.

She really is almost helpless around me, he thought. The poor girl… even if I am in the palm of her hand.

But when a single scared tear squeezed out of the corner of Beck’s eye, Simon knew he had to act. He was not going to let this beautiful girl cry in front of him. He was her host now, after all, at least while Milla was still out shopping. And she’d already made him feel so good…

“I am scared,” he admitted—but waved his hands to indicate that wasn’t all. “But I’m not scared of you. Never of you, only… of what might happen next between us.” He spoke almost without thinking, letting the buoyant feeling in his heart carry him up, push him forward…

“We’ve been alone together almost half an hour now,” he reminded her with a shy smile. “If you were going to do anything that would hurt me, you would have done it already. But instead, you’ve been gentle. You’ve been sweet and affectionate and… sexy, and… you think Milla should have warned you about me? She didn’t even tell me she lived with somebody as beautiful and amazing as you!”

He was still cross-legged in her palm, and once more he stroked the textured surface of her skin with the flat of his own hand, reassuringly… and even a little provocatively, if such a thing were possible. It seemed to do the trick: Beck shivered, her lips twitching around an involuntary squeak of delight.

“All I’m saying is, I have every reason to trust you. But more than that—I know I’ve only just met you, but… Beck, I don’t know how to describe what I’m feeling right now. But if I don’t do something about it, it’s going to drive me completely crazy. And… and I trust you, so…”

Beck stared at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. It reminded him of when she’d first spotted him, when she couldn’t believe her eyes—or her luck, Simon thought. Had she wanted this the whole time, from the moment they met? But he powered through, on to his own big finish:

“Listen,” he said. “Three years ago, when I was… when my sister swallowed me, and I was inside her stomach, it… it didn’t hurt. Not immediately anyway. I think whatever about my size that makes me harder to crunch or smush, makes it harder to digest me as well. I can’t say for sure, but I think… I would be safe inside you, at least for a little while. So I think… if I went down… and you managed to spit me back up after five minutes had gone by… then I would survive it. I would come out okay. I can’t believe I’m saying this, I should get my head checked to make sure it’s still fixed on straight. But this is what you want to do with me, if this would really feel that good to have me inside of you…”

Beck’s mouth dropped open—again, just like when she’d first met him. “You’re serious, aren’t you,” she gasped. “You’d really let me, I mean… You really want me to…”

Simon’s heartbeat pounded in his hears. But instead of backing down, he nodded confidently, pleased to see Beck’s whole beautiful face light up like a Christmas tree.

“I mean it,” he told her. “If gulping me down... will really bring us closer together—then swallow me, Beck. Swallow me whole.”

A bizarre rippling chill shivered through Simon’s entire tiny body. And for only a moment, for the first time since he’d set foot inside his sister Milla’s apartment, he felt truly alarmed for his own safety.

Had he really just said that?

Had he truly given this girl Beck permission… to swallow him?

One look upward into her pale and lovely face confirmed it: he’d said it all right. He’d said a mouthful. A host of conflicting emotion’s crawled across the giantess’s features: shock… then alarm… then conflict… then, finally, overwhelming elation. Beck looked like a girl who’d just won the lottery without buying a ticket. She’d entered this contest on a lark. Now she was about to scoop up all the winnings.

And he, Simon, was the prize.

But as suddenly as they’d come, the feeling of anxiety faded away, subsumed by a peculiar sense of excitement. When had he ever shied away from a risky venture? He’d always been an adventurous soul, a quality that had spared him the depression and despair and sense of powerlessness that plagued so many other tinies he knew. Now a monumental challenge presented itself; could he really do it?

Could he actually pull this crazy thing off? Slip down inside her—and come back up, unharmed?

Beck’s fingers flexed around him experimentally; she looked him up and down, seeming to judge his size with her gaze. “Are… are you sure?” she stammered. “If you are, that’s incredible—but there’s no shame at all in backing out now. What I’m asking you to do, what I’m asking to do to you, it’s…”

Simon shook his head. “I’m not backing out,” he countered. “And you didn’t ask me to do anything. I offered. I want you to do this. I want… to do this with you.”

And as if to seal this declaration, he stood up and walked across the palm of her hand to the base of her thumb. Pulling the curved digit towards him, he pressed his lips against the pad of the thumb like he was stamping a wax seal on a letter. Beck quivered, her nose twitching like a rabbit’s, and she squeezed her eyes shut, savoring that moment in time. She said:

“You have no idea how good that feels, even that little soft touch…”

Simon shrugged. “Maybe I don’t. I don’t understand what I’m feeling at all. But I don’t think it’s ever going to make sense…” He pointed a tiny finger at her face, her mouth specifically, then traced a path down the front of her until he was pointing at her soft stomach. “…until I’m inside you.”

This last statement seemed to overwhelm Beck’s emotions entirely. Her hand closed around him and swept him up towards her face—but instead of stuffing him headlong between her jaws, she only peppered him with kisses that further covered him in the crimson of her lipstick.

“How are you this perfect?” she squealed. “How did I miss it all this time—that Milla had a tiny, sweet, delicious little hottie for a brother?”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Simon laughed, wiping his eyes. “I’ve already agreed to let you swallow me whole—you don’t need to sugar me any more than you already have.”

But that display of affection was almost a relief to the tiny boy. There had still been some part of him, some life-preserving anxious dark corner of his brain, that was afraid that once he’d made his offer, another side of Beck would come forward—that the predator inside her would emerge. That she’d stop seeing him as a person and see him only for what he was about to become to her: a mouthful of food… to be gulped down and instantly forgotten about.

But Simon realized in an instant that there was no danger of that. The girl who’d just kissed him—she was the same girl he’d spent the better part of an hour with, cuddling on the couch. The same girl who’d been afraid to pick him up for fear of breaking him. The same girl who was curious about his life and his likes. The same girl who made his heart feel like it was full of warm melted chocolate.

Sweet, caring, affectionate, loveable Beck.  

Yes—he could trust her. He could trust her with his very life.

“I don’t think I’m laying it on thick,” she corrected him. “What you’ve offered to do for me, to literally put your life in my hands…”

“…and down your throat,” Simon put in jokingly.

“Yes. That, too.” Beck’s face was completely crimson. “Well—it’s the most amazing thing anybody’s ever done for me. And that makes you the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You big flatterer.” But the flattery was working; now it was Simon’s turn to flush red. He wondered if Beck could tell, his face being as tiny as it was.

Beck smiled nervously, raising him toward her face once more. “So… are you ready? Last chance to back out. No shame in it. Really, I’ll understand…”

Simon raised a confident eyebrow. “I was about to ask you the same thing. What’s the matter—are you stalling? Worried you won’t be able to get me down?”

Beck set her jaw, like she’d been challenged. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“I’m saying put your money where your mouth is—and send me after it.”

This got a laugh out of Beck; then she narrowed her eyes at him, her lips kinking up at the corners suggestively. “If you’re really feeling so brave… maybe you’d like me to show you where you’ll be going.”

“A guided tour!” Simon tipped an invisible cap. “A capital idea, o beautiful temptress!”

“Temptress. I like that. Like a femme fatale. Then, o brave adventurer, let me share with you what a cunning and inescapable trap I’ve laid for you…”

With that, she positioned her hand with Simon on it directly in front of her cherry-colored lips. “First,” she purred, “I’m going to put you in here…”

She smiled—then opened her lips wide. Simon gasped involuntarily. The opening of Beck’s mouth was almost as wide as he was tall, and the inside of it was dark and wet and glistening and cavernous. His gaze swept around the interior, at the double half-circles of massive white teeth, and the huge red fleshy carpet of her tongue… and at the very back, shrouded in darkness, lay the opening of her throat, a plunge into shadow guarded by her pink swinging uvula which seemed to point down inside her.

As if it were a signpost, he thought, shivering. A welcome mat, urging me deeper inside of her…

Beck’s mouth closed, her teeth clacking shut mere inches from Simon’s curious face. “Then I’ll seal you inside,” she continued in that same seductive purr. “I’ll savor you, tasting every inch of you—I forgot to ask, do you want to leave your clothes on when I swallow you up, or take them off? They’ll get wet just from being in my mouth, but if you’re self-conscious…”

Simon waved away her concerns. “I think… if I’m going to be inside of you, you’re able to handle seeing me naked.” He turned away from her, still standing on her palm, and began to strip down. Hearing her talk so confidently about it, about swallowing him, was making him feel hot and cold, kind of quivery all over. Finally there was a pile of his clothes in her palm next to him, and he turned around. Beck looked his bare body up and down—and grinned when she saw his erection.

“Goodness,” she whispered. “If you were full-sized, the girls would never give you a moment’s peace. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t think I can resist temptation any longer…”

She brought him up to her mouth for another kiss, but this time she opened her mouth and dragged her huge wet tongue up the length of Simon’s entire naked body. The sensation shocked him, and it was all he could do not to fall bum-over-teakettle backwards—but he was grateful for the warmth, and for the moment when the tip of her tongue briefly cradled his tiny member. Beck must have seen him shiver and twitch at this, because she grinned and licked her lips saucily. She said:

“Cutie, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you enjoy this just as much as I do. And if that dowsing rod’s any indicator, you’re well on your way there. Ah… on with the tour, shall we?”

Simon nodded, his brain still a little full of fog. “All right,” he stammered out.

“Good—because we’re at my favorite part.” She lowered Simon to the level of her neck and tilted her massive head backwards, displaying the full length of her throat. “Once I’m done tasting you,” she murmured, “I’m going to tip my head back, just like this. You’ll slide right to the back of my throat, and then…” She bobbed her chin and gulped audibly for effect. “I’m going to swallow you whole.”

With her other hand, she placed a pointer finger against the soft flesh just below her chin, then traced a path down her long neck, between her huge breasts, before it reached what could only be the tour’s final stop: her stomach. “I’m going to feel you slide down my throat, wiggling and squirming… before you plop down into my belly, right here.” She lifted up her sweater, showing Simon another spectacular view: her well-toned stomach, with just a hint of abdominal muscle beneath the skin.

That’s where I’m going to be, he thought with a flash of realization. Just on the other side…

He tried to imagine it—but even though he’d been inside a stomach before, his mind as a curious blank. There was no preparing for an experience like this. All there was left to do… was take the plunge.

“And that’s the end of that!” Beck gave her stomach a soft pat, then rubbed it contentedly, as though Simon was already tucked away inside. “I hope you’re all ready, cutie,” she sighed. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold back. I think… I’ve got a taste for you now.”

Simon only nodded, trying his best to control the pace of his breathing. Beck lifted him away from her flat stomach, ferrying him up and up—past her bosom and shoulders and neck, finally positioning him directly in front of her huge smiling lips. There it was: the gateway to his final destination. A bright lipsticked portal from which he might not ever emerge again.

“I’m ready,” Simon whispered to himself—and he almost believed it.

The huge red lips moved. He was so close to her mouth now that the sound of her clear ringing voice seemed to come from all around him: “I think it’ll be better if you walk in on your own,” she told him. “At least, that’s the way I’ve always imagined it. Do you think you can…?”

Without finishing her question, Beck opened her mouth.

Hot minty breath washed over Simon’s entire naked body. Time seemed to slow. His erection still stood at hard attention, but now as he gazed into the dark abyss of Beck’s cavernous mouth and throat, a sense of awe swept through him. There stood the same old scenery, teeth and tongue and the high pink fleshy arc of the roof of her mouth. But now the view was like seeing some great predator in the wild: a lion or a bird of prey. It was a majestic sight. But with that sense of reverence came another feeling.

He did not want to feel it. He begged himself—don’t let it in. But there it was.

Suddenly, brave Simon was truly afraid.

Beck held her hand closer, so close that the edge of her palm was just touching her full lower lip. All he had to do was walk to the precipice and climb inside. He was so close: to a new overwhelming experience for the senses, to facing a nagging fear that had bothered him for nearly four years now, to making this beautiful sweet girl the happiest she’d ever been… But try as he might, he could not force his feet to move, to step forward, to carry him into the inviting warmth of her mouth.

A moment passed, then two. Simon twisted away from Beck’s face, his own countenance burning with shame. Wasn’t he supposed to be the confident tiny? The brave tiny? The little boy who wasn’t afraid of anything? Where was that Simon now? A hot angry tear rippled down his cheek.

She’s waiting for you, he scolded himself, desperately trying to goad his disobedient feet into action. She’s waiting, and she’s so excited, and you promised her…

Behind him, he felt Beck take a breath to speak. He braced himself for the reprimand he thought would surely come. But when the words came, they weren’t pleading or impatient. They weren’t disappointed. She spoke in a gentle voice, quietly so that even at that distance she wouldn’t burst his eardrums:

“It’s all right, cutie,” she whispered, her sweet breath washing over him once more. “Really—it’s all right. I’m a little nervous too. And a little scared. So you truly don’t have to do this. The fact that you offered, even the fact that you considered it… that can be enough for me.”

He turned around, just in time to see her staring down at him with shining eyes.

“But I want to understand something,” she continued. “Si… I’ll keep you safe. Even when you’re inside me… I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me—no matter what you choose. You’ve been so courageous already, but…  But you don’t have to be so brave anymore if you don’t want to.”

Her eyes twinkled; her red lips spoke comforting words.

“At least for a little while… I can be brave enough for both of us.”

Simon felt his little heart melt inside his chest. It was like a magic trick. Staring into the light of her beautiful pale eyes, his fear seemed to dissolve like sugar in water. This was the last piece of the puzzle, he realized in a joyful flash. The final turn of the screw. Surrendering to Beck’s strength, to her protection, to her beauty and affection and love. To really trust her with his life.

This was the secret ingredient. Simon’s heart sang inside of him.

Beck seemed to notice his change in demeanor. She leaned in, gently pressing her lips against his face and upper torso. Simon leaned into the kiss, simply basking in the caressing touch and the warmth of her breath. Then Beck opened her mouth once more, her lips curling up eagerly at both corners—and this time, without hesitation, the tiny boy in the palm of her hand stepped forward and climbed inside.

Her soft lips gave slightly under his weight as he passed between them; her hard, saliva-slick bottom teeth were a wall that had to be vaulted. But then he was truly inside, crouched on his hands and knees inside the immense cavern of her mouth. The air was hot and sweet and full of moisture, and the movements of her wet pink tongue beneath him made the whole space seem to shift and flex around him. The only light came from through her still-open lips; opposite this, the back of her throat was a great and mysterious pool of darkness. But he could sense it there, the dark plunge of her throat. With every breath out, it made its presence known. And with every breath in…

It called to him. It whispered hungrily—urging him deeper, closer to its irresistible embrace.

Simon’s heart fluttered within the cage of his ribs. It wasn’t that his fear was gone. He was still afraid, though the sensation was joined by fierce tense excitement that sent his pulse racing. Fear and delight, working in tandem. Like salt and sugar, or sweet and sour. It was wonderful and terrible all at once.

And now, he wouldn’t trade away the sensation for the world.

He knelt on Beck’s soft tongue and, just like when he’d sat in her hand, he pressed his own palm against her taste buds, rubbing it back and forth—to say, I’m here. I’m okay. I trust you.

We can be brave together now.

From the back of Beck’s throat came a pleasurable moan that vibrated every bone in Simon’s tiny body. The giantess seemed to take his touch as a signal, because almost immediately her lips began to close. Soon there was only a thin sliver of light pouring through into her mouth, then a crack, then a pinprick…

Then no light at all. Simon was lost in the darkness of Beck’s titanic mouth, completely sealed inside. He breathed when she breathed, and his small form rose and fell with every undulation of her tongue. She was really all around him, surrounding him—just like she’d described in her fantasy. This was how she’d wanted it, what she’d pictured since the moment they had met.

This was really it, he thought to himself with singing nerves. This was the point of no return.

For better or worse, Beck was completely in control.

Now, whether Simon liked it or not—he was as good as swallowed. 

Beck was in heaven.

For that entire evening, ever since she’d emerged from the dark bedroom and found this tiny boy waiting on the kitchen counter, she’d careened between two polar extremes of emotion. Nerve-cracking anxiety, then burning desire—back and forth repeatedly like a pendulum. Tortured equally sharply by the fire of her secret need and the shame it crushed her under, she’d been terrified even to speak to Simon, much less interact with him physically. But now, that fear seemed so far away.

Now—look how far they’d come. And it was all because of Simon himself.

He had made the first move, speaking to her, melting her heart and teasing away her nervousness. He had wanted to be friends, or something more than friends. And he had touched her, his warm body cuddling into the hollow of her throat as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d gone spelunking down the front of her sweater, struggling deep within her bosom—entirely an accident, though a pleasurable one as well, one that blew wind through the bellows in her heart and in her loins. And when he teased out her secret at last, he hadn’t run from her affection. He hadn’t been afraid.

He’d kissed her… and then he made her an offer she never dreamed would come.

Quivering, Beck put her hand up to her face once more, opening her mouth to its widest, barely able to keep from beaming in anticipation. The world seemed to pause: then, she felt a sensation she had only been able to imagine up to that moment—the unmistakable feeling of Simon’s tiny body slipping between her parted lips and settling cross-legged on her tongue. A shudder of enjoyment shook her; it was all she could do to keep from moaning as his flavor splashed across her tongue. Her mouth began to water, and she quickly shut her lips to keep from drooling on herself. His taste was like well-salted rare meat, juicy and delicious… but this wasn’t what sent flashes of cold thrill running across her skin.

It was his presence inside her mouth itself. The very thought of him entering her willingly, submitting fully to her hunger and her desire and her love… The feeling of his tiny fragile body adjusting slightly on the soft damp bed of her tongue, completely at her mercy and yet unafraid, anticipating the moment when she would tilt her head back and engulf him, making him a part of her, a part of her fondest wish…

Sweet, funny, loveable, delicious Simon.

Another movement from inside her mouth sent her heart fluttering. He had stood up and taken a few slippery steps across her tongue. God in heaven—he was exploring inside of her. Beck felt a tickling touch brush across the roof of her mouth, and she imagined him stretching upward on tip-toe, reaching for the ceiling of the dark moist chamber with his fingertips. A laugh rumbled up from her chest that sent tiny Simon sprawling across her tongue, and she tilted her head forward slightly to keep him from sliding to the back of her throat too soon.

His words rang inside her mind like a clear bell: “Swallow me, Beck,” he’d said. “Swallow me whole.”

And she would—indeed, it was taking tremendous effort not to toss her head back and simply gulp him down immediately. And why shouldn’t it? Beck had dreamed of this moment for almost as far back as she could remember, and now, all of her most secret fantasies were playing out in real time, just behind the soft barrier of her lips. But not she would not swallow him down yet. No—first she would savor him, submerge them both in the ecstasy of the moment. She had made a solemn promise to Simon himself that she would make his journey inside her body feel just as good for him as it did for her.

She would make good on that promise. And she knew just how she’d manage the trick.

Beck began slowly, flexing her cheeks as she began to toy with the tiny boy on her tongue, sucking on him and coating him in her saliva. As she manipulated his body, she weighed his little body on her tongue, trying to get a better sense of his size. Most tinies, she knew, were around two inches in height—a substantial mouthful to be sure. If Milla’s little brother was much larger than that, she worried that his teasing would come true and that she wouldn’t be able to get him down her throat at all. But by her internal estimation, Simon seemed to be just shy of that average. He’s perfect, she trilled to herself, rolling her shoulders as a shiver ran through them. Just the perfect size to swallow whole.

That thought alone increased the pace of her sucking and licking, and this time she felt Simon’s body squirm against her tongue. His legs kicked out involuntarily—and although it was faint, she thought she could hear a low squeal of pleasure emanate from inside her mouth. She moaned in response, unable to dampen the sound this time. Gleefully she continued her oral assault on her tiny lover, now paying especial heed to his groin as she licked and tossed him and pressed him to the roof of her mouth. Her hands had balled into fists against the sofa cushions; as her own pleasure increased, she reached up and grabbed handfuls of the headrest behind her as her hips bucked forward of their own accord.

She didn’t need to feel herself to know—south of the equator, she was soaking wet.  

Beck was lost in sensation. Simon’s taste, his tickling squirming movements on her tongue… they were starting to overwhelm her. She pressed a palm against her tight jeans, just above her burning loins, even sliding two of her fingertips along the hem of her panties… but she did not touch herself. Not yet. That moment would come soon enough, and only after Simon himself had taken his fill of her. But it was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to swallow, so she attacked the tiny boy furiously with her tongue, tumbling him end over end, not letting up for an instant, his groans of pleasure drowned out by her own quivering yelps and sighs…

…until at last, her efforts were rewarded. Beck’s heart leapt as she felt him buck and spasm inside her mouth, releasing a thin stream of his seed across her eager tongue. Immediately she sucked him clean, delighting in this new flavor, before pressing her exhausted lover against the roof of her mouth once more as she swallowed her built-up saliva, along with his meager-yet-delicious offering. Then she relaxed her tongue, letting Simon rest and catch his breath. From inside her mouth, she though she heard his voice, but he was too tired to make himself heard from within her.

“What was that, cutie?” she whispered, keeping her lips parted slightly so she’d hear his response.

A moment ticked by; then, his weary but happy reply floated out between her lips:

“T-thank you, Beck. Thank you so much…”

“You’re welcome,” she purred around him.

Below the waist, she was still all revved up—but even despite this, her heart registered the sweetness of the moment and it warmed her from the center out. She closed her eyes blissfully, cradling Simon in the center of her tongue, slowly starting to work him towards the back of her mouth. But as he arrived at the precipice, she paused. She imagined what the little boy in her jaws must be seeing, must be feeling, staring down into her, into the darkness of her innermost self, the depths of her body. She felt his form tremble, there at the very back of her throat, and she parted her lips once more and asked softly:

“Si, are you ready… to go down?”

Simon did not speak. Only, his tiny hand pressed against her tongue and caressed it.

It was answer enough. It was permission enough.

Beck didn’t wait another instant. In a sudden rush the moment overcame her—and with a groan of deep pleasure she threw back her head and swallowed Simon whole. He slid easily into her throat, passing beneath her uvula and plunging quickly into her body’s warm embrace. Beck’s eyelids fluttered as a tight squirming lump began to slide slowly down her throat; she angled her head back and placed one trembling finger against her exposed neck, tracing the path of that squirming as the tiny boy slid deeper and deeper inside her, into the vast and loving embrace of her flesh. Her breath quickened as that finger traced down her throat, over the ridge of her collarbone and between her heaving breasts until…

“…yes…”

The word escaped her mouth in a hot huff of air as Simon’s body squeezed down the final length of her throat and tumbled the last few inches into her stomach. She sighed as she felt him enter, his slight weight pressing strangely against the floor of her stomach, then a wonderful fluttery sensation as he climbed to his feet inside her and began to move around. Her lip quivered; her eyes rolled back behind her eyelids, and her hand rose up nearly unbidden and pressed against her skin, just below her left breast. She pushed against her stomach, probing curiously. At first, she felt nothing. Then—little Simon’s weight pressed against her stomach wall from within, nudging against her hand, returning her caress.

Beck’s other hand—her rebellious right hand—slipped into her pants.

She didn’t have to wait any longer. It was time to make this real.

She kept one hand pressed to her flat stomach, caressing it and feeling Simon return the gesture again and again from inside. The other worked furiously to quench the fire of need that had already nearly consumed her. Five minutes, Simon had told her. Beck almost laughed. She would not need that long. She was already wetter than she’d ever been before; her fingers slid easily inside herself, sending jolts of intense pleasure through and through her in time to the movements inside her stomach—the boy she’d swallowed, she reminded herself over and over again. The boy she’d swallowed whole.

Sweet, delicious, sexy Simon…

I wonder… she thought. I wonder if he knows what I’m doing.

Oh God—I hope he knows. I hope he knows what he’s making me feel.

As if in answer to that prayer, Simon’s struggles inside her increased in tempo. Beck struggled to match pace, pushing her fingers deeper inside herself, thrashing on the sofa. Her breath came hot and ragged from her lips. Her head spun and swam; she hardly knew where she was anymore. She was lost—helpless in Simon’s power, in the grip of the moment. The world ceased to exist, to seem real at all.

Simon—and Beck. They were all that mattered…

She couldn’t be certain. There was no way to know if it was real or a hallucination brought on by sheer intensity of pleasure and feeling. But she could swear she heard a tiny voice say:

“Beck… you’re even beautiful… on the inside…”

“Si…” she moaned. She was nearing the edge. She could feel it about to take her, like a terrifying fall.

“Simon. Little Simon. How… are you… this cute… from… inside me?”

Then—out of a blue sky it hit her like a rockslide. She plunged her fingers in and upward; her hips bucked forward and she howled as pleasure seemed to melt her from the inside out. The feeling shot through her entire body, up from her loins like a bolt of electricity. She imagined, in a moment of ecstatic hilarity, her skeleton sparking through her skin, showing the black outline of every bone. Her eyes squeezed shut, hot raw tears pressing out from their corners. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed against her until she was reduced to a quivering heap, soaked with sweat and panting hard.

Slowly the world came into focus again. As proper feeling came back to her body, she was again aware of Simon’s tiny weight in the pit of her stomach. Beck sat up part-way, staring down the length of her body at her stomach, imagining where her tiny lover was inside. He wasn’t squirming anymore, just softly caressing her from the inside. Beck’s heart fluttered and she patted the spot where she felt him, drumming fondly against her skin with her fingers. Her breathing slowed, culminating in a deep sigh of relief and contentment as the last pulse of pleasure finally cooled in her loins.

“I don’t know if you can hear me in there,” she whispered. “But that was amazing. You were amazing…”

She wanted desperately to simply fall back on the couch and soak in the afterglow, to enjoy the immense closeness she felt with the little boy she’d consumed with her love. To fall asleep in the light and warmth of their new bond, to feel him slumbering within her while she dozed off herself. But she knew almost instinctively that time would run out quicker; the consequences for them both would be dire if she failed to rescue Simon from inside her body. If she hurt him, especially in the midst of her own pleasure, she knew she would never forgive herself.

But a moment longer, only a moment… surely there could be no harm in that…

Beck leaned back into the arm of the couch, another deep contented sigh fluttering past her lips. Her eyes fell half-lidded, and she continued stroking her stomach, murmuring mindless affectionate words to it—to the boy in her belly. Her incredible little lover. Simon, her Simon…

But her reverie was broken by a sudden noise from just behind her. Beck’s heart leapt into her mouth and her heart rate shot up. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead and the backs of her hands.

It was a key in the apartment door. The lock was turning. Milla had come home.

Terrified, Beck only had the time to grab a blanket from the back of the sofa and throw it across her joy-stained lap before the door swung open and Milla swept inside, followed by a burst of cool evening air.

“Sorry I’m late,” she sang out, closing the door with her heel. In her hand was a grocery bag with a single item inside: the all-important parmesan. “I saw a sideswipe accident on the way home,” she said, “and I had to stick around as a witness while the police got called. Huge pain. You got my texts, yeah?”

Beck opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, Milla fixed her with a strange, piercing gaze. “Beck—what’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked. “You’re all flushed. And you’re panting.”

“Oh. I’m… Uhm.” Her mind raced, struggling to find words, any words at all. “Oh. Scary movie,” she said at last, pointing to the TV. Jason Goes to Hell was paused, the freeze-frame showing the masked killer about to slice through one more dead-girl-walking.

“Simon. He, uh. He wanted to watch,” she finished, grinning weakly.

“That figures.” Milla shrugged and smiled, about to let it go. “Glad to see you two are getting along…”

But then her eyes narrowed slightly, looking first at Beck, then at the couch to her left and her right. Beck could see the wheels turning in her head and her heart sank, her teeth grinding anxiously.

“Something wrong?” she asked as innocently as she could manage.

But it was no use at all. At the end, her voice rose almost to a squeak as Simon suddenly squirmed inside her. He wanted to come out. She didn’t blame him, but what could she do? In the throes of her passion, she had forgotten that Milla would be returning, stupid stupid stupid…

“No, it’s just…” Milla cocked her head, a nameless expression crossing her features.

“Well now hold on,” she said, scratching her head. As if on cue, Simon squirmed again, and Beck’s poor stomach gave a loud and guilty rumble. She hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch, she realized with a horrible sinking shock. She was ravenous… and the only thing inside her stomach now was…

“Where is he?” Milla asked her. “Beck… Where’s Simon?”

Silence hung between the two roommates, thick and heavy as blackout curtains over bedroom windows. The girls blinked at each other for a moment; Milla’s face was still twisted up by confusion, while Beck’s was frozen in a mask of alarm, flushed full up to the roots of her hair. She adjusted the blanket on her lap and rubbed her stomach fretfully, hoping against all hope that Simon’s big sister hadn’t heard the damning noise it had just emitted. From inside her, Simon gave a panicked little wriggle.

Please… Beck thought, chewing her lower lip. Please be patient. And please-please-please be safe…

“Sorry.” She blew a hair off her face and managed eye contact with Milla. “What… was the question?”

Milla rolled her green eyes—the same color as Simon’s, Beck realized with a guilty jolt. Only, far larger.

“You know—Simon?” she repeated. “My little brother? About two inches tall? The one I left you to look after while I was doing the shopping? This is ringing a bell, isn’t it?”

“Oh. Right. That Simon.” Beck palmed her forehead. “He’s… uhm. Well I’m sure he’s close by?”

“I would hope so.” Milla tapped her foot, sweeping her eyes around the room. To the couch, to the counter, to the kitchen floor and the hall beyond. “Come on now—where is he? Is this some kind of game he’s playing? Cough him up already, so we can eat. I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am.”

Beck’s stomach gave another guilty rumble. The back of her neck was starting to sweat.

Cough him up, she parroted to herself. Oh—if only I could…

But the words were enough to give her an idea, one that might save them both.

“He’s in the bathroom,” she said suddenly. “He asked me to bring him… just before you got in. I left him alone to give him some privacy. Is that how it usually goes? I mean, when he’s with you?”

Milla narrowed her eyes at her—then broke into a wide easy smile. “You’re handling him already, then! That’s really good, I was hoping the two of you would hit it off. Go on and get him then, I’m sure he’s finished in there by now. And it’s not like we’d hear him calling at that distance.”

Beck’s thoughts flew back to the sound of Simon’s voice coming out from inside her mouth—just before she’d swallowed him down. Like the world’s strangest ventriloquist act, she mused. But she’d been given an out. Without speaking again, she nodded and rose from the couch, keeping the blanket pressed against her lap to disguise the stain of hers and Simon’s lovemaking that had soaked through the crotch of her blue jeans. In her other fist she hid Simon’s tiny handful of discarded clothes. In this fashion, she waddled towards the single bathroom in the apartment. She felt Milla’s eyes on her every step of the way, boring into her back like a powerful laser.

Let her go on staring. Time was running out—for her and the tiny inside her both.

That is, if it hadn’t run out already.

Beck flicked the light switch, bathing the little full bath in an electric dusty glow. Shutting and locking the door behind her, she dropped the blanket on the bare tile floor and dumped Simon’s clothes out of her hand onto the little shelf beside the sink. Her heart raced; her throat felt tight as a twisted rubber hose. She couldn’t feel Simon in her stomach anymore. Not his squirming, not even his tiny weight…

Surely not, she tried to assure herself through a wave of white blinding panic.

Surely she hadn’t. Not already. Not that quickly.

She couldn’t have…

Not to delay any longer, Beck opened her mouth and thrust two fingers into her throat as far back as they would go. She’d never tried to make herself vomit before, but she’d seen the trick done on TV and in movies. And in all the stories she’d read, this was how you could retrieve a tiny from inside of you. Sure enough, it seemed to work. She gagged around her fingers, hacking and coughing, making horrible wet noises in her throat. Her stomach heaved; her throat tightened…

But nothing came up.

“No. Please no…”

Beck’s heart nearly stopped. Hot tears spilled down each cheek—but she didn’t give up. Simon was counting on her. Sweet, loveable, trusting Simon… and what had she told him? I can be brave enough for both of us. He wouldn’t make a liar out of her, not after what they’d just experienced together.

Stifling a sob, she removed her fingers, set her jaw determinedly, and thrust them back in once more. And this time—oh Glory, something moved deep inside her. Her stomach seemed to clamp like a squeezing fist. Then a hard tight lump began to move slowly up her throat. She felt him squirming weakly, emerging from her dark depths. He was beneath her breastbone now, and now her collarbone. Now he was making his way up through her neck to her waiting mouth. She could almost taste him…

But then, in a heart-stopping moment, his journey slowed. He stopped—and started to slip back down.

“SIMON!”

His name flew from Beck’s lips; she had to clap her hands over mouth to keep from crying out any louder. The panic was starting to overwhelm her now, but she still wouldn’t give up. She gagged herself again, in time to halt the squirming lump’s travels back down her throat to her hungry belly. She leaned over, concentrating on not swallowing, terrified by the thought that if Simon plopped back down in her stomach, it wouldn’t give him up so easily a second time. But luck was in her favor now: before she knew it, the tight hard spot inside her chest reversed course, moving quickly up her throat. She held her palm open under her mouth, and quite suddenly a tiny naked blur spilled out from her parted lips.

Beck wiped her mouth, choking back tears of joy and gratitude.

It was Simon—coughing and exhausted and quite bedraggled, but very much unharmed.

##

ONLY A FEW MINUTES’ PRIOR

With Beck’s lips closed tight, it was darker than a subterranean cavern inside Beck’s mouth. So when she began to maneuver him to the back of the chamber, he could hardly tell what was happening. Without visual stimuli, one place inside her mouth was very much like another to him.

But he felt it when her head angled back. He felt it when she tipped him down her throat.

He felt it when she swallowed.

Simon knew it was coming. She’d been kind enough to warn him, to ask his permission one last time. And while he’d been too exhausted to reply loud enough to reach her, he’d fought the post-coital fog inside his brain well enough to send her a signal, caressing her tongue. He thought he was prepared.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sensation of a giantess swallowing him whole.

The base of Beck’s tongue lifted up beneath him like an ejector seat. His whole world went vertical—and he plummeted in near-freefall, her dangling uvula sliding across his face before the powerful muscles of her throat caught hold of him in a gentle yet inescapable embrace. “Gulp…” The sound of her muscular swallow nearly bust his eardrums as he was sucked down inside of her.

His heart jumped up into cut-time rhythm and for a moment, only a fraction of a moment, he panicked and fought, trying to clamber his way back up to the safety of her mouth. But it was like quicksand. The harder he struggled, the farther he slid down, deeper and deeper, traveling inside his lover’s body. So instead he tried to cool his racing pulse, breathing deeply and only squirming slightly to keep comfortable as Beck’s throat ferried him closer and closer to his final destination—her stomach.

“I’ll be brave enough for both of us,” she’d told him. All right then—he would let her. He had trusted this beautiful girl with his life. Now there was nothing more he could do but keep trusting her. If he was going to get through this strange adventure, it would be under Beck’s power and nothing else.

But if it was her arousal that made her swallow him—what was it that would bring him back up?

Simon slid further and further down, the muscles of Beck’s throat squeezing him all over. He was glad he was a little below average height for a tiny. Were he any larger, her swallowing him might have cracked a rib or two. But as things stood, inside her throat was almost… soothing. It was dark inside her, and warm, and the sound of her heartbeat passing him by was as lulling as the sound of crashing waves on a beach. And the tightness of the embrace was better than any hug he’d ever gotten. It was funny: he imagined that at any other time, this same experience would have terrified him. He remembered how scared he’d been when Milla swallowed him; the sensations at their base had been almost the same. But with Beck—something about being tucked so deep within her made him melt instead of tremble.

Could it be? he wondered as he slipped into her stomach at last. Do I… do I like being inside you, Beck?

Her stomach was mercifully empty, save for a small pool of warm fluid at the very bottom of the chamber. The walls flexed and shifted around him with muscular rhythmic action. The wall nearest him bowed in ever-so-slightly, seeming to search for him. Experimentally, he pressed his hand against it and was shocked to hear Beck’s voice respond, from high above him.

The words were muffled, filtered through layers of muscle and bone and skin. But he heard her say:

“Oh, Simon, yes…”

That moan stirred his blood; it seemed to stir Beck’s as well. All around him he heard her heart rate pick up and her breathing labor. He realized, first with embarrassment, then with delight, what his lover’s twitchy treacherous right hand must be doing. She’s pleasuring herself, he realized. And despite the darkness and heat, despite the terrifying nature of the trap he found himself in, he grinned.

Here was another challenge. Beck had already brought him to orgasm inside her mouth.

He would be damned if he’d let her please herself alone.

With all his strength, Simon threw himself at the walls of Beck’s stomach, squirming as hard as he can to make his presence felt. And Beck responded, rubbing her stomach with her hand and crying out each time she felt him kick or twitch or push. Her moans grew louder and louder, encouraging Simon to push himself to his absolute physical limit. Soon he was sweating and panting hard—but his efforts didn’t take long to pay off. Beck’s climax was like an earthquake for the tiny boy inside her. She bucked and thrashed, throwing Simon against one wall of her stomach, then the other, howling in ecstasy.

Then—it was finished. Both lovers collapsed backwards, their energy completely spent. Simon slid down into the pit of Beck’s stomach, slipping into the pool of fluids up to his waist. It didn’t burn exactly, but it did tingle on his skin a little, like his legs had fallen asleep. It reminded him of the carbonation inside a Coke, or a particularly frothy beer. High above him, he heard Beck’s labored breathing steadily begin to slow, and he smiled contentedly. He hadn’t been a virgin before, but he’d never been with a normal-sized girl. Now he was literally inside one, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

And not just any girl. Beck—his Beck…

“Beck…” he whispered into the empty chamber of her stomach. “I think… I think I…”

“That were amazing,” her voice interrupted him from up above. “You were amazing.”

He smiled and shut his eyes, leaving his thought unfinished. Amazing. That was the only word for what they’d just done together. That was the only word for Beck.

With his heart full of that feeling, he slid deeper into the fluid in her stomach, and before long he was drifting off into a peaceful exhausted doze…

Until a sudden noise woke him. A voice. Milla’s voice.

His sister had come home—and he was still inside Beck’s stomach!

Simon jumped to his feet and climbed up the slope of Beck’s stomach wall, pressing an ear against the muscular flesh. The voices outside were muffled, but he could track the conversation well enough. He knew Milla’s first question would be to ask after him… and sure enough, poor Beck’s heartbeat began to pound. She was panicking. Neither of them had thought this far ahead, and now they were both caught in the same trap. He heard Beck stammering, lost for words, starting to choke on them…

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He rubbed her stomach wall, reminding her:

“You’re not alone. I’m still here. For better worse—we’re in this together.”

Well—more or less…

It seemed to have the desired effect. Simon’s world shuddered and flopped as Beck got to her feet and hustled into the bathroom. He heard her gag; her stomach convulsed around him—then suddenly he was hurtling upward the way he’d entered, up her throat and into her mouth. Light poured in, nearly blinding him. Then he slid down the length of her tongue and landed softly in the palm of her hand, looking up into her relieved and tear-streaked face.

“Are you all right?” she squealed, her eyes brimming. “I thought I’d… I mean, I couldn’t…”

For a moment, Simon just stared up at her, catching his breath. After the darkness of her stomach, her beauty was like the break of dawn. He stared into her pale blue-gray eyes admiringly as they searched him up and down, her lower lip caught in her teeth. Simon let the moment linger; feeling the heat of her hand beneath him and the heat of her breath on his bare chest and legs. Then he rubbed his face clean of her saliva and he uttered these words:

“Accommodations roomy. Hostess was charming. Bit damp. Bit dark. Still—five stars.”

Beck’s face broke open with relief; the noise she made was something between a nervous laugh and a despairing sob. And suddenly Simon felt himself crying as well—not from sorrow or fear, but from a sheer overwhelming emotional release. He and Beck had experienced something together that few would ever dare attempt. Simon felt light and heavy all at once, but more than that he felt as though an unbreakable thread had tied one end of itself around his heart, and that the other end had fastened itself tightly around Beck’s own heart. It was madness, he knew. But in that overpowering moment, he truly believed that he would give himself to her again, surrender his body and his life to her hunger and remain within her forever if only that cord would remain bound to them both.

But soon enough, that fever faded, replaced by a more mundane kind of elation. Simon leapt to his feet in Beck’s huge palm, and soon they were talking breathlessly over each other, waving their hands and struggling to keep shy, elated grins off their faces.

“…you’re sure you’re all right, I thought for sure I…”

“…I’m fine! You didn’t hurt…”

“…but you were inside me so long, I…”

“…not burned at all, I didn’t even feel…”

“…but when you went in, when you went down, it…”

“…like magic, like nothing else I ever…”

“…feeling you squirm all the way down, it…”

“…hearing you moan, and feeling you move all around me…”

“…it was…”

“…it was…”

“…perfect,” they finished together.

With an almost desperate fervor, Beck cupped Simon in both hands and brought him swiftly towards her mouth, pressing him against her lips so hard he was nearly drawn between them once more. But she broke off the kiss before he was swallowed up again, a thin strand of saliva trailing between their faces for a moment. Then suddenly, Beck’s eyes widened in a panic once again.

“Your sister…” she whispered. “Si—what are we going to do?”

A funny thought flashed through his mind—we could always tell her. He shook his head, slapping himself across the cheeks a few times to center himself again. “The sink. Run me under the warm water. It won’t get me completely clean, but it’ll get off most of your…” He gestured shyly to himself; he was still naked and covered in her saliva and digestive juices. “You know.”

Beck did as she was told. Carrying Simon gently in a web of her crisscrossed fingers, she quickly rinsed him off, then brought him the corner of a washcloth to dry himself with. While he was toweling off, she brought him his handful of clothes. He imagined it must be a funny sight, hopping on one foot to slide into his pants at the size he was. Once he nearly slipped on the smooth surface of the porcelain sink and was relieved when the cushion of Beck’s palm caught him nimbly.

“How do I look?” he said when he was clothed, taking a few catwalk steps that got a giggle out of Beck.

“At least you don’t look like you’ve been…” She trailed off, running her fingers across her stomach.

Simon peered up at her, catching her eye with a smile.

“That’s got to be good enough. Come on and bring me out of here—before Milla gets suspicious.”

“I think she’s already suspicious,” Milla whispered. But she laid her hand flat on the counter, letting Simon scramble up onto her palm once more. But instead of simply walking out of the bathroom, she lifted him up to her shoulder, offering it as a perch. Simon grinned and stepped off onto the padded surface of her sweater, taking his usual place near the crook of her neck. Beck shivered and purred at his touch, then blinked hard, seeming to steel herself. “You ready?” she asked the tiny boy on her shoulder.

“I don’t think anything scares me now,” Simon replied.

Beck put her hand on the knob; but before they left, both lovers turned to each other with one accord.

“Thank you…” they breathed with one voice.

Then Beck opened the door and they walked back into the waiting world together. 

Beck padded slowly down the hallway, Simon once more sitting cross-legged on her soft shoulder. Simon thought for sure he’d be nervous. But instead, as the lights of the kitchenette grew brighter, a strange kind of calm washed over him, warming him up from the inside out. Although, he imagined, that could very well be partly from Beck’s own natural body heat staving off the chills. Nestled beside her neck under the curtain of her pale brown hair, he felt her pulse quicken beneath her skin. Even if Simon wasn’t uneasy at the prospect of facing Milla after what they’d just been through, Beck clearly was.

And why not? Simon mused. Why shouldn’t she feel strange—after what she’d just done.

After what they’d done together…

He rose to his feet, balancing easily as a sailor on the deck of a ship, and put his tiny hand against her skin and whispered up into her ear: “It’s gonna be all right. I’m here. We’re here together.”

“If you say so…” Beck whispered back. Her voice held even, but there was a tension behind it. She brough her hand up, stroking Simon’s little body gently before dropping her hand to her side and rounding the corner into the kitchenette. Milla was posted at the stove, oven mitts on each hand, stirring a pot of water with a wooden spoon in one mitt and reading from the back of a box of noodles held in the other. She turned slowly, angling her eyes at them. Her gaze lingered on Simon, still leaning into the crook of her roommate’s neck, but didn’t pass comment. Her expression betrayed nothing.

“What took you so long,” she snarked out of the corner of her lips. “Fall in or something?”

“Something like that,” Simon quipped back without missing a beat.

Milla narrowed her eyes at him playfully, then shrugged. “Well—did you say thank you to Beck?”

Simon blinked. “For…?”

“You don’t smell like toilet. I assume she fished you out and helped you rinse off.”

“Oh—yes. Of course.” From his perch on her shoulder, Simon turned to face Beck’s cheek and swept downwards into a deep comical bow. “Thank you for your service, Lady,” he intoned, in mock-polity.

“It was my pleasure, Master Simon,” she replied in a stuffy British butler’s accent.

Milla raised an eyebrow, but again didn’t make any remark. Instead she switched off the gas jet flame and carried the boiling water a few feet away to the sink. “I made an executive decision,” she explained, pouring the rotini into the strainer. “I was too hungry to wait to make proper lasagna—so I went with ordinary pasta instead. I figured you all would be pretty famished too.”

Simon and Beck murmured assent; Simon in particular thought of how loudly Beck’s stomach had growled when he’d escaped it. It hadn’t been happy about losing a meal; she must be ravenous now.

“Honestly, it’s probably for the best,” his big sister continued on without turning back to them. She was getting bowls out of the cupboard now—two, one for her and one for Beck. “I don’t suppose…” she said, in an insinuating tone, “…that Si told you our little lasagna story?”

She turned at the waist, her lips kinking up as she searched their faces for a reaction. Simon managed to remain stone-faced, but Beck had flushed red all over, straight up to the roots of her brown hair. Simon shrugged, catching his sister’s attention with a wave. “It, ah… it might have come up,” he admitted.

“Lucky thing you did too,” came the reply with a wink. “Or we might not be having this conversation.”

“For sure, we wouldn’t.”

Steadying little Simon with her hand, Beck sat down at the circular breakfast nook table and folded her hands on the faux-wood surface. Simon stood and nimbly skipped down the length of one arm, but instead of finishing the journey on the table’s surface, he stopped short and plopped down on the back of Beck’s right hand. Beck twitched in surprise at his ticklish touch, but then smiled down shyly at him and flipped her hand over, catching him in her palm and cradling him comfortably on the table. Simon smiled back and ran his fingernails over the corduroy surface of her palm, tracking along the thick crease of her lifeline and teasing a pleasant little shiver out of the larger girl.

Milla returned from the sink. She’d doffed her oven mitts and had two steaming bowls of rotini pasta, slathered with brick-colored sauce and sprinkled with a snowy dusting of crumbled parmesan cheese. She slid one towards Beck along with a fork, keeping the second for herself. Simon’s sister peered down at him, still resting comfortably in the palm of Beck’s right hand—and he thought he saw a strange secret smile wiggle across her lips.

“Comfy?” was all she said. But before her brother could respond, she stabbed a big forkful of pasta and raised it to her lips, blowing the steam off. “You cool to sit at the edge of my bowl, little bro?” she asked. “I could get you another plate or something but honest to God—I don’t want to wash another dish.”

She shoveled the pasta into her mouth, staring down the length of the fork at Simon.

“Unless…” she mumbled through her mouthful. “Unless Si’s afraid of a repeat performance?”

Simon rolled his eyes, pretending to consider it. “I’ve seen you eat,” he teased her—and gave a few oinking grunts, pushing up the point of his nose with two fingers. “Maybe I should be nervous.”

Milla sneered at him, still chewing. “Maybe you think Beck would be more careful.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Maybe you ought to test that theory.”

Simon folded his arms. “Maybe I oughtta.”

He leaned back, craning his neck to look up into Beck’s eyes upside-down. Her lips worked back and forth nervously, staring down the length of her nose at him with bright pale eyes.

“You’re… are you sure about this?” she half-whispered—although Simon was sure he detected a note of eagerness hidden under her usual fluttering anxiety.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he replied, kicking his bare heels against her palm.

“No. I mean… I’m sure I don’t.” She was flushing pink again.

He smiled reassuringly at her. “Just put me on the edge. And don’t mistake me for a noodle.”

Rather than bite at that bait, Beck swallowed and lifted Simon up over her steaming pasta bowl, finally holding him level with the rim. He climbed off her palm carefully, hooking one leg then the other over the lip of the hard china before dragging a piece of noodle towards himself. The pasta was warm and pliable under his touch, and soon he was tearing off pieces and shoving them into his mouth, occasionally dipping them down deeper into the bowl to swipe up a gob of marinara sauce.

Beck stared down at him, watching in fascination. Simon caught her eye and gestured grandly to the remaining mounds of noodles in the bowl. “Go on then,” he called up to her. “You must be starving.” And then, in a much lower and private voice, he said:

“It’s all right—I trust you.”

It seemed to be enough. Beck nodded and lifted her fork, thrusting it down into the pasta furthest from where Simon perched. Simon watched her put the forkful of noodles in her mouth, chew, and swallow—as though he was unable to look away. After his sister’s accident, he’d been almost afraid to watch people eat; now the act fascinated him. His eyes tracked along Beck’s towering body until his gaze landed at the patch of sweater concealing her stomach.

Not ten minutes ago, he thought to himself. Not ten minutes ago, I was right there—inside her. He wondered if Beck was thinking the same things. If she was imagining it. Reliving it…

He didn’t understand why the thoughts thrilled him so—but thrill him they did.

But soon normal dinner conversation resumed. Beck grew more confident eating around Simon, and hardly seemed to notice his presence at the edge of her bowl unless he spoke. This he did very little. As Milla and Beck talked to each other, catching up and reminiscing about the school year, Simon felt his heart start to glow in his chest. After so much time in his colony, he had missed talk like this. Real talk, about the real world, not the little fragile lives of his fellow tinies, the petty squabbles or meaningless political power grabs others of his size seemed so fascinated with.

This was anything but meaningless. This was real life: loud and friendly and joyful and large.

Simon never regretted his size. Even at life’s most dangerous, he appreciated the thrill and utility his condition came packaged with. But missing this… being deprived of this… was the only thing in the world that ever made him wish he was as big as his big sister.

The conversation went on. Simon had eaten his fill and was starting to feel warm and sleepy. As he chewed a last bite of warm noodle, he worked a kink in his shoulder, surprised at how sore his whole body had suddenly become. His adventure inside Beck’s stomach, coupled with their lovemaking, had worn him down completely, exhausting every muscle. But it felt good, that deep-in-the-muscle hurt. Like he’d spent the evening exercising and not doing… whatever it was he’d done with Beck.

He blinked sleepily at the bleary kitchenette lights high above him. He didn’t want to sleep yet. He wanted to stay with Beck and his sister, continue enjoying the evening with them. But the porcelain bowl under him was warming him all the way through, relaxing him… and against his will, he felt his eyelids starting to drift shut, and his mind starting to wheel towards darkness…

Then Beck said something—a joke, one of the few Simon had ever heard her tell, and Milla’s fist pounded the table as she laughed hard. Beck’s pasta bowl shook and clattered on the table; Simon, perched on the lip, felt himself slipping forward. Any other time, Simon would have been strong and agile enough to catch himself. But he was too tired now, his belly too full and his brain too slow… The world spun crazily around him and he slid down into the bottom of the bowl, landing splat in a last puddle of dark red sauce. He cried out in alarm, and Beck gave a yelp as well—but Milla only laughed harder, screwing up her eyes and going completely red in the face.

“Are you all right, Si?” Beck blurted, plucking the tiny boy out of the sauce.

Dangling between her fingers, Simon looked into Beck’s face. All at once he burst out laughing as well. The sauce had soaked into his shirt and his pants and was smeared in his hair and across his face.

“You see now?” he said between giggles. “You see how it happens?”

“Sorry, little bro…” Milla huffed from across the table, over her own laughing fit at last. “Come on Beck—give him here and I’ll get him cleaned up again.”

She put out her hand out, palm up. But Simon twisted toward her and waved her away. “Oh no, you don’t,” he protested. “You’re benched, San Andreas. Take a lap. Get your head in the game.”

Milla stuck his tongue out at him—then, her eyes flicked suspiciously between him and Beck. Simon rubbed his eyes and held her gaze as best he could manage, giving nothing away.

“Fine,” Milla said, shrugging. “Beck—you’re up again.”

She fished her phone from her back pocket and started thumbing through her social media, head down and completely engrossed. Beck rotated her hand so that sauce-sticky Simon rested on her palm once more, giving him a questioning look. Simon simply shrugged.

“Sorry to ask again,” he said, “but I can’t get to the sink myself…”

“This better not become a habit,” she murmured, smirking at him.

But with the stuffy grace of a dutiful manservant, she turned up her nose and stood, carrying Simon towards the kitchen sink. Simon ran his fingers through his hair, combing out chunks of sauce that had started to dry there. Beck switched the faucet on, running her other hand beneath the stream of water to gauge the temperature. But before she could lower him under the waterfall, he held up a hand to stop her. Simon leaned over the edge of her palm, peering across the kitchen at Milla. Her back was turned, still engrossed in her social feed. Simon looked up at Beck’s expectant eyes, a dangerous idea twisting around in his brain. He beckoned her closer, and as she raised her hand level with her face…

He rolled back his sleeve, offering his sauce-covered arm toward her.

Beck’s eyes rounded; she shook her head hard, her brown hair fanning out. But Simon only grinned and walked closer to her, standing on the very heel of her hand, only a few inches from her lips. “I’m still feeling a little brave,” he whispered to her, holding his arm out once more.

Beck chewed her lip, a pained look crawling across her pretty face. But she glanced back at Milla—then ducked her head down, pressing her mouth against Simon’s arm and upper chest. At first it was only a kiss, like they’d shared before. But after only a moment the suction increased as Beck slurped his arm into her mouth all the way up to the shoulder, quickly sucking every last drop of sauce off his skin. For a brief instant Simon thought he might be drawn inside her mouth completely; instead, she broke the kiss, red in the face and covering her mouth with her other hand. As if on marionette strings, they both turned back towards Milla—mercifully, her back was still turned. Soft tinny music was playing from her phone; she was watching a music video.

“Fear and delight, all the way through the night, with a little derring-do…”

Simon stifled a giggle; Beck did too, hissing laughter behind her cupped hand. There was something wonderful about sharing a secret. But this went beyond that. Was this how normal-sized teenagers felt, sneaking around, stealing kisses? It didn’t matter. Whatever the feeling was, it was exhilarating.

“This better not become a habit,” Beck had said—only half-joking.

It was too late for that now. Simon wanted more. He would always want more. 

The remains of the evening passed in a heady soporific blur. Beck helped Simon rinse off the last of the sauce under the sink-jet; after that came dish-work, followed by more Netflix on the sofa. Simon spent the time passed from one girl to the next, resting variously on Beck or Milla’s shoulders and occasionally on the curved back of the couch as well. Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday only had fifteen minutes left in the runtime, so after the credits rolled came a change of pace: some kind of combat sport movie called Showdown: Kissing Canvas that Simon had never seen. This was Beck’s pick, and she got sucked in right away, pumping her fist whenever the hero rose off the mat again and again to face down his seemingly invincible foe—played convincingly by a snarling Mark Wahlberg.

Simon tried to focus, but his reserves were completely burned through. Pretty soon, slumber pawed cat-like at his eyelids; he let himself start to drift off, the sound of Beck’s enthusiasm and Milla’s laughter fading into shadow in the background. He could hardly recall where he was laying. Milla’s shoulder? Beck’s thigh? Somebody’s lap, or a pillow? It didn’t matter. He felt warm and secure and comfortable and loved, and soon he plunged headlong into dark and dreamless sleep, so deep that later on he didn’t even feel himself plucked up between fingers and carried away…

Hours later: Simon’s eyes fluttered and opened. The world was one solid wall of darkness. For only a moment he let himself panic; his head whipped back and forth in the dark, searching for some signpost or buoy to tell him where he was. He found his landmark at last—high above him, the red bleary glow of a clock radio’s digital display flashed 1:15 AM. The rest fell into place quickly enough. Milla must have brought his sleeping unit in from the Jeep, and placed him inside it.

The unit wasn’t much more than a hard plastic shoebox with an open lid from the outside, but inside there lay a double bed Simon’s size, a desk surface, a small cushion-like chair fixed into the floor, and a wall panel that lit up or dimmed at the touch of a tiny’s hand. It was almost a fully functioning portable apartment; some tinies sprung for additional accommodations like closets or even little wash-stations, but Simon had never seen the attraction of being so self-contained.

If everything he needed was in the unit—why would he ever need to leave and explore the real world?

Simon sat up and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He guessed careful Milla had slipped the sleeping unit beneath her own bed; directly over his head, the vast darkness of the bottom of the bottom of her box-spring, through which he could easily hear the noises of his big sister breathing and shifting comfortably in her sleep. His eyes found the digital clock again: 1:17 AM now. Hours of darkness before light came. He flopped back down onto the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. He waited for the old fatigue to grip him, to pull him down into the grasp of slumber. He waited. And waited.

Then—with a groan of frustration, he threw the blankets aside. Before he really understood what he was doing, he’d climbed off the bed and marched straight out of the unit’s side door and onto the carpeted floor of Milla’s bedroom.

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him at first. The room was pitch dark, but his body moved as though possessed, padding easily across the tight firm weave of the carpet as though it were the surface of the moon, or a vast desert. But once he squeezed through the gap beneath Milla’s bedroom door and out into the hall, there was a little more light to see by. A small footlight plugged into the hallway outlet glowed dull green a few inches above Simon’s head, bright enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings. There to his left, standing ajar and pouring out a thin crack of nightlight, was the door to the apartment’s apparent single bathroom.

And to Simon’s right, also standing partly open—that could only be Beck’s bedroom.

His bare feet brough him there. Straight to her open doorway. The door stood open only a few inches, but to a boy that small, the gap was an invitation, like welcoming arms spread wide. He slipped through quietly: Beck’s room was not quite so dark as Milla’s, and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to recognize the dim shapes of furniture. A chest of drawers loomed huge in one corner, a desk beside that, and on the far side of the room rose the long obelisk of her enormous full bed. A window hung above this; moonlight poured through the glass, lighting the room up silver. It was a single strong beam coming through a crack in the heavy curtains, white and liquid as milk poured into a tall glass, falling on the bed—and on Beck’s upturned face, sitting half-upright propped on her pillow, gazing through the window with her eyes half-lidded. She was awake and looking at the full moon.

Simon felt a breath catch tight and hot in his lungs. Beck had been beautiful before, under ordinary lighting. But in the moonbeam she was completely transfigured, huge and pale like the statue of some titanic arctic goddess. The milk-colored light turned her brown hair silvery and made her half-shut eyes dance like they were full of twinkling stars. She had removed her lipstick before she crawled into bed; now even were mouth was the color of the moon. On the floor beneath the bed, Simon spotted the crumpled pile of the sweater she’d worn the day before; he couldn’t tell what she wore now beneath the blankets, but the thought made his imagination whirl and dance.

He felt guilty about such thoughts, but the feeling only lasted a moment. Beck had seen him in his altogether after all—and they’d been far more intimate than that as well, hadn’t they?

His thoughts were soon interrupted; almost as though she could feel the pressure of his gaze, Beck’s eyes flicked away from the moonlit window, searching along the floor until her gaze lit upon him lurking near the doorway. Her a moment she only regarded him placidly from beneath her eyelashes. Then a slow and sleepy smile spread across her lips, and she lay back on her side on the bed, snuggling herself further under the covers. “Hi, Simon…” she whispered. “I guess you couldn’t sleep either?”

It sounded like a question but it wasn’t. Simon nodded. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” he said—in a similar unquestioning tone. As though the answer was already plain. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I only wanted to see if you were still awake too.”

Beck shook her head, still smiling at him sleepily. “Ta-dah…” she breathed. “No, I’m still up. I’m still kind of wired, I guess. From… before.”

Simon felt his cheeks flush red; he rubbed one shoulder with the opposite hand, trying to hold his gaze steady. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course.” Beck dropped her gaze shyly. “It’s… it’s been all I can think about. And when you pulled that stunt in the kitchen, sticking your arm between my lips…”

“Milla almost caught us,” he teased, taking a few more steps into the room.

“Milla almost caught us.” Beck widened her eyes comically. “You big tease—what if she had?”

Simon shrugged. “I guess we’d have come up with something.”

Then his eyes dropped again, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he admitted. “What… we did together.”

Beck stared at him, her gaze soft as moonlight. “Why don’t you come over here a while,” she asked. “I can hardly hear you that far away.” It was a lie, but a harmless one. And it was excuse enough.

Simon obeyed, padding across the carpet towards her. Beck’s bed seemed to loom taller and taller the closer he came, and for a moment her lovely face went completely out of his view. But then she rose up on her side and stretched her arm out, making a platform of her curved fingers close to the floor. Simon paused, staring up the length of her arm. Her face had changed; the light was still in her eyes, but there was almost a pleading expression there as well, a tender kind of eagerness.

“Come up,” she begged. “Come up and talk to me properly.”

Without hesitating an instant, Simon climbed aboard and crawled up into her palm; Beck’s hand twitched under his slight weight and its owner let out a happy sigh, only a whisper as it trespassed her lips. The hand rose up until it hovered above Beck’s torso, hidden beneath the drape of the bedclothes. She let Simon hang a few inches from the blanket for a moment but didn’t set him down immediately. Instead, her other hand gripped the covers and pulled them away, revealing a black graphic t-shirt with a band logo on it for a band Simon had never heard of.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Beck asked, tapping her flat stomach with her fingertips. “I can’t put you on my shoulder, and my arm’ll get sore if I just hold you up like this. Not that I mind holding you.”

“I don’t mind,” Simon replied.

Beck grinned and lowered him onto her stomach—but before she tipped him off her hand, she pulled back the hem of the t-shirt and set him instead onto the soft bare surface of her skin. Her teeth closed on her bottom lip when his bare feet touched down, biting down on a whimper.

Simon hardly noticed this. Her skin was smooth and warm and immaculately soft, and as he eased down into a sitting position on her stomach, it warmed him all the way up through his body. As she breathed in and out, her belly rose and fell gently; indeed, her entire body seemed to move and shift like the motion of waves, starting at her waist and running up along her torse, making the swells of her enormous breasts heave under the cover of her shirt. For a moment, the girl and the tiny only regarded each other in rapt awe, enjoying the sudden startling intimacy of that touch. Then:

“I have a confession,” Beck breathed. “I was… kind of hoping you’d come see me.”

Simon’s heart raced in his chest, but he managed to keep his voice level: “Happy to oblige you.”

Beck crossed her arms behind her head, leaning back on her pillows so that she was looking at him over the hillside curve of her bosom. “Where do you normally sleep?” she asked. “I mean to say, when you visit outside of your colony.”

“You’ve probably seen adverts for miniature sleeping units on TV,” came the reply. “I’ve got one of those. They’re portable—and they’ve got a suitcase handle on the lid so Milla’s able to carry it around when I travel, especially from the tube station to the apartment.”

 “Here I was picturing a matchbox lined with tissues or something. Or you curled up on Milla’s pillow.”

Simon ran his hand along the skin of her bare stomach, keeping his palm flat so as not to tickle her so much. His perch was soft and comfortable but also slightly precarious; if he agitated Beck now, her laughter might well tip him off onto the bed. A little rough and tumble might be fun, but he didn’t want to break this intimate moment just yet. “I used to sleep like that,” he told her. “Before we bought that unit. Milla’s always been very protective of me. And we’ve always been super-close. You wouldn’t know it to look at us of course, but she’s only my older sister by about ten minutes. We shared a womb.”

Beck’s eyes rounded and her lips hung open. “You’re… you’re twins?” she gasped, putting one hand over her mouth. “But how? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s usually not possible.” Simon nodded, thinking back to how his mother had explained it to him. “Usually in cases of twins where one’s a tiny and the other is… not, the normal-sized twin absorbs the other in utero. It’s sad, but it’s just what happens to us. But Milla, even in the womb she was protecting me. I didn’t even show up on the ultrasound because her body was curled around mine. When I was born it was a miracle. An act of God—and an act of Milla. And we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Beck blushed. The hand that had covered her mouth crept down the length of her body, cupping behind Simon and steadying him against her warm skin. “That’s really special,” she told him. “I never had any brothers or sisters. But you and Milla, that’s… just kind of beautiful.”

Simon leaned back into her fingers. “She’s the reason I can be so brave as I am,” he said. “Because I know she’s in the world, watching over me, looking out for me. She’s the reason I trusted you—because she trusts you. And loves you, I think. I knew I didn’t have to be scared, even when we… you know.”

“I do know.” Beck’s other hand descended as well, drumming insinuating fingertips against her stomach. The impact sent little vibrations through Simon’s whole body. He looked down at the repeating pattern of her flat abdominal muscles, which were just as soft yet firm as her shoulder had been.

“I’ve never met a girl with muscles like yours. My guess was gymnast—was I close?”

Beck blushed under the moonlight. “You noticed.” One corner of her lips kinked up in pride.

“It’s hard not to notice,” Simon reported. He walked his fingers along the firm skin beneath him. “I guessed it when I was on your shoulder for the first time and felt your deltoid under your skin.”

“Well—you were close, but not bang-on.” Beck shrugged and fixed him with a hard look. “Some people guess gymnastics, looking at me. Or a ballerina. But it’s kickboxing actually! All-collegiate.”

“You’re kidding me.” Simon felt a laugh bubble up inside of him.

“What’s funny about that?”

“Nothing at all. Only—you don’t seem like the type. You were so nervous when you met me. I guess it’s hard to imagine you high-kicking somebody in the face like that.”

Beck didn’t respond—she only smiled proudly and pointed up at a shelf on the bedroom wall. A tall trophy gleamed there, topped by a statuette of a young woman with one leg thrust upwards in a perfect effigy of a textbook roundhouse kick. The name confirmed its owner:

“Rebecca Phillips—that’s your full name?”

Beck nodded. “I guess I already know yours. Simon Groff. Because I know your sister’s name.”

“I stand corrected, ‘Rebecca Phillips’—I guess you are a badass. Why do you go by Beck?”

Again the larger girl only shrugged. “I thought it would sound a little tougher. Nobody’s rattled to square off with a Rebecca. And for your information, I was only nervous at the thought of hurting you by mistake. I’m much braver when I’m trying to mess somebody’s face up. You seemed so… fragile.”

Simon smiled up at her. “I guess we know differently now, though. Don’t we?”

“I guess we do.”

“If it makes a difference to you—you were perfectly gentle with me, Beck. The whole time.”

“Even when you were…” Beck fumbled for the words, flushing again. “…inside of me.”

Simon nodded, not taking his eyes off hers. “Especially when I was inside you.”

To his surprise, he saw the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of her pale eyes. “You’re never going to understand it. How much that means to hear you say that. Thank you.”

“It was… my pleasure,” Simon replied. But despite this, the tears welled over, running in parallel tracks down her cheeks. “Beck, what’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m sorry…” she sniffed, drying her eyes on a corner of bedsheet. “It’s just—it’s just you.”

“What about me?”

“I spent my whole life feeling like this. Wanting… this. And feeling ashamed of it. Keeping it a secret from everybody. Thinking that anybody I told would reject me or think that what I wanted was wrong or evil or harmful or sick. But to hear you talk about so… casually. As though it were nothing. I feel like I’m being sewn back together whole. Like I was never really broken at all.”

“But it wasn’t nothing,” Simon protested—a little too loudly. But his blood was suddenly up. “It wasn’t casual. Not to me. It was…” He paused, searching her face, wondering again if he’d overstepped. But her wide startled eyes showed no real alarm, only a taut eagerness, waiting for what he would say next.

So he said it: “It was special to me. You’re… special to me, Beck. And even if I haven’t decided whether I like everything we did in the same way you do, I know that I like you. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Beck looked like she would cry again. But instead, the hand behind Simon’s back scooped him off her stomach and pressed him firmly against her puckered lips. Just as quickly, he was returned to his resting place atop her belly, slightly dazed but grinning ear to ear.

There it was again—that cord that seemed to connect Beck’s heart to his own. That desperate, dreamlike feeling. His whole body felt strange and weightless. The whole atmosphere in the bedroom had changed. He could imagine slow piano music playing somewhere, as though in a dream. Perhaps he was still asleep and dreaming this conversation, and Beck’s stomach beneath him was really his warm bed in his sleeping unit. But the look in his lover’s eyes, that rapturous, urgent look, could not be fabricated.

This moment, this connection between them—it was real.

“I couldn’t resist,” Beck whispered sheepishly.

“You don’t have to resist.”

Beck nibbled her lower lip. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you think you enjoyed it enough… to try again?”

Simon wiped a fleck of her saliva off his cheek. His little heart pounded in his chest.

“You mean… like, right now? Here?”

Beck shook her head—a little sadly. “I want to. But… no. I’m too tired and relaxed. I’m worried I wouldn’t be able to get you back up. Or that I’d just fall asleep with you inside me.”

“Probably best to avoid that,” Simon agreed with a slight shiver.

“But I’ll take that rain check, cutie… if you’re offering.”

“We’ll just have to send Milla out on another grocery run,” Simon joked.

Beck ran her tongue across her lips. “Or you could just sneak into my room again.”

Simon laughed—then paused, his own mouth hanging open slightly. In his seated position, his imitation denim jeans hand suddenly grown considerably tighter. Even the prospect of coming to her again in secret, of entering her again… it was heating his blood and stirring his loins and sending a curious urgent buzz across every inch of his skin. He stared up at Beck’s huge face, gazing down admiringly at him. Then without another word, he rose slowly to his feet, steady on the firm surface of Beck’s abs.

“Something wrong?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Simon smiled coyly, crossing his arms behind his back. “I was only thinking. What was that you told me—about other things a boy my size and a girl your size can do together?”

Beck didn’t speak—only, her eyes seemed to plead with him. Simon’s smile grew across his face.

“Do you trust me, Beck?” he asked.

“Of course.” He felt the hot breath of her answer, even at that distance.

Simon nodded. There was no calming his heart now. “All right. Then—just stay like you are…”

He strode forward, careful as a gymnast on a balance beam, trekking up the pale soft desert of Beck’s stomach toward where the hem of her shirt had bunched up to give him a place to lay. He grabbed the seam in both hands; Beck hardly had time to gasp before he’d pulled the fabric up over his head and slipped beneath it, moving at a half-crouch up her torso towards her chest. An involuntary quiver of delight shook through her, coupled with a pleased staccato sigh.

“Si—are you sure?” she breathed. “You don’t… I mean, I want… but…”

Simon paused, kneeling to place his tiny hand against her skin. Her t-shirt was like a heavy canvas pressing down on him; he imagined the lump he must make beneath it, moving like a mole tunning in the earth. He imagined his voice coming through muffled as he said:

“Do you want me to stop?”

For a moment there was only the deep sound of Beck’s panting breaths—and the distant noise of her hammering heart, deep beneath her skin. Then:

“Please don’t,” she urged. “Please… keep going.”

Simon grinned to himself and obeyed. He pressed forward, holding her shirt up with his slender but still strong shoulders. Up her torso he marched until the weight of the fabric seemed to lift. He came to a spot like the apex of a circus tent, but it was no center pole holding this tent aloft. It was Beck’s breasts.

They rose above him like two great cliffsides, pale and beautiful and smooth. Each was many times larger than Simon himself, but even though he’d been between them before, he hadn’t reckoned with just how massive they really were. She wasn’t wearing a bra under her shirt, so each breast hung free, falling slightly to the outside of her body and forming a natural valley between them. He stepped forward, placing a hand against the underside of each one; he was small enough that he had to hold his arms out wide to actually touch them both at the same time.

Beck sucked in a whimpering breath—and cried out, “Wait. Not yet. Please, let me just…”

Before Simon could react, something slithered up under her shirt from the end he’d entered. Beck’s enormous hand appeared and pinned him gently against her body. But he could still see her other hand at work, sliding her shirt up and over her head. When she released her grip, she had bared herself completely to him. Simon stared in awe. He could see each breast at its full height now, huge pale globes topped with dainty pink nipples that stood upright, saluting towards the ceiling. Beck stared down adoringly at him from between them, her lower lip held firmly between her teeth. Her eyes still glistened, but there was no sadness there now. Only the hunger that was not hunger, that was more than hunger, that went beyond any hunger Simon would ever feel himself.

With each hand, Beck took hold of each breast and squeezed them, pushing them together and releasing them in a circular motion that nearly scrambled all of Simon’s insides. His hands twitched at his sides, waiting for a signal. Waiting for the word Go. Beck licked her lips again—and parted her bosom as though it was the Red Sea, creating a path forward between them.

It was an invitation. It was a demand. It was a plea.

“Go on…” the giantess whispered. “Little explorer. I’m… all… yours.”

“Beck—you’re incredible.”

The words seemed to fall from his lips. But even as he spoke them, Simon knew they weren’t enough to describe the view that stretched out before him now. Even if he’d been full-sized, Beck’s naked body would have been a breathtaking sight to behold. But at only two inches in height, the view was as arresting as any magnificent natural vista on the globe. Her body seemed to stretch away all around him, in every direction—behind him, her flat toned stomach flowed down into the hem of her dark lace panties, and beyond that rose her taut muscular thighs, each bent at the knee slightly on the bed. Simon noted with some interest that one of Beck’s hands had crept down to her waistline, the thumb hooked through the elastic band of her panties, teasing the barest glimpse of the pale woman-flesh beneath.

And in front of him—the majesty of her titanic bosom towered.

At first Simon hardly knew where to look first, surrounded on all sides by such beauty as he was. But beyond the grand valley of Beck’s breasts, he caught her watching him carefully, her lips kinked up into an eager hungry smile and her eyes sparkling with cool liquid moonlight. Her hand—her nervous, twitchy right hand—rested against the skin of her torso, just beneath the shelf of her chest and beside Simon himself. But she made no move to grasp him or even touch him at all. It seemed to be taking a tremendous effort of her will, but she was waiting… to see what he’d do.

The music had started; Beck was letting him lead.

Simon felt a tight twitch below the waist—the pressure inside his pants had become suddenly intolerable. He was pitching a tent, and from the intrigued glance Beck paid to his groin, he guessed it must be visible even at his diminutive size. “Well…?” she murmured, her voice a rumble under his feet.

“I guess you don’t want me to keep you waiting.”

Very slowly, Beck’s head shook back and forth. Her breathing hadn’t begun to labor yet, but each breath in was deeper than the one that came before. Simon rose and fell with the movement of her lungs, thrilling in the idea that even his mere presence on her body was exciting her this much.

“All right.” He nodded confidently. “But first—let me get into something a little more comfortable.”

With a wink up at Beck’s huge face, he crossed his arms and pulled his shirt up over his head; to his surprise, as soon as his head was free and the shirt was above him, Beck’s hand descended and snatched it away, depositing it an impossible distance away on the surface of her nightstand.

“Hello you…” she breathed, eyeing him up and down.

“Hello yourself.” Now bare-chested, he took a few slow steps forward until he was positioned perfectly within the chasm of the larger girl’s bosom. He knelt, then lay down on his stomach between her towering breasts, propping his head coyly on his curled fists. “Now we’re equal,” he mused. “I wanted to feel what this would be like—skin on skin like this.”

“And what does it feel like?” Beck’s voice shook—she was having trouble keeping her cool.

“Warm. Wonderful. Intimate.”

“Uh-huh.” Farther down, Beck’s hips shifted slightly. “It might feel even better if you lost… those.”

Her hand rose up again, pointing. Simon followed her finger to his hindquarters.

“You want these off as well?”

Beck nodded, her lip between her teeth. “Yes, please.”

Simon’s heart thrummed in his chest, but he stood up shakily, steadying himself against her right breast to get on his feet again. Here Beck’s flesh was softer and his footing less stable than on her stomach. This was different than the last time he’d been naked in front of her, he thought to himself. Before, it had been a matter of practicality, even though it had led to an intimate moment. Now he was being asked to disrobe explicitly for the purpose of lovemaking. The hugeness of her gaze bore down on him; it was like the stare of the moon, of a huge hidden goddess.

But when he was upright at last and hooking his hands into his waistband, Beck stopped him:

“Wait,” she pleaded. “Would… please, would you let me?”

Simon nodded. “Of course.”

From out of sight, Beck’s right hand snaked up behind Simon and lifted him between her fingers. With the other, she gently hooked the nail of her pointer finger under the waistband of his jeans, only applying so much pressure as not to injure him. Simon helped her along, unbuttoning and unzipping the pants so they’d slide down his legs easier. Beck grinned and slipped them off with one smooth motion of her finger. Simon’s erection twitched as it sprang free, standing at full salute. Beck raised an eyebrow.

“Why, Simon…” she purred. “I had no idea you were so eager.”

“Surprise…” He shrugged shyly, still dangling in her grip. “The spirit’s willing, I suppose.”

Beck’s mouth curled up in a smile, already coming closer and closer as she lowered the tiny boy towards her lips. “Cutie, I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” she murmured. “Now, come here…”

She pressed him into the kiss, and almost immediately Simon felt himself melt into her. This was not the shy, heart-fluttering first kiss they’d shared on the couch in the den. This was not the frantic, glad-you’re-not-digested kiss she’d given him in the bathroom after rescuing him from her stomach. This was an intense and sensuous embrace; Beck moaned, the hum vibrating every bone in his body and making his member twitch with delight. He returned the gesture and kissed her back, completely lost in her affection for what seemed like hours on end.

When Beck broke the contact at last, like before her tongue emerged from between her lips, but instead of licking up his entire body, she teased his groin with the tip, drawing it completely into her mouth. Simon was pressed against her lips once more as intense pleasure rocketed through him like the rush of some quick-acting drug; Beck was toying with his member inside her mouth, licking along its length with her dexterous tongue and pursing her lips to stroke up and down the shaft.

Finally she removed him from her lips with a wet ‘pop,’ holding him above her upturned face and staring up at him with hunger in her eyes. It took a moment or two for the fog in Simon’s brain to dissipate. “That was some kiss,” he managed to say at last, in between stuttering breaths.

Beck shook her head, almost in dismay. “You have no idea how hard it was to resist… well, you know.”

Simon was pretty sure he knew. But still he said: “Tell me.”

“Slipping you in all the way. And maybe…” Beck tilted her chin and swallowed, exaggerating the noise of the gulp slightly to tease him. “Sending you down inside of me. I remember before, being worried you might be too big to swallow, but you’re the perfect size. You slid right down my throat…”

Then she blushed mightily, turning her face away and hiding it behind her other hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured beneath the mask of her fingers. “That still sounds so strange, talking like that out loud. You must think… It must sound… Oh, I don’t know.”

“It’s all right. Your willpower does you credit,” Simon quipped—but his voice quavered with emotion. He put his arms out to either side of himself, relaxing in the chair Beck’s fingers made around him. “I meant what I said before, you know. I trust you completely. The last time I put my life in your hands, it was the most incredible experience of my life. That kind of thing… well, it’s habit-forming.”

Beck stared adoringly at him. “You really mean that.” Simon nodded; Beck put her hand to her heart, between her breasts. “I… I must be the luckiest girl in the world. But I won’t risk it again. Not tonight at least. Although…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her other hand walking eager fingers down her torso, finally drumming a tantalizing rhythm against the taut surface of her exposed panties.

“There are other ways, you know,” she breathed, drawing Simon close to her lips once more.

“Other ways?” he asked.

He knew what she would say. He wanted her to say the words.

She said them: “Other ways… for you to be inside me.”

Simon felt heat flash all across his body. His mind swirled with sudden sensuous images—and his dick, which had begun to droop only slightly, snapped up into full military alert once more. Very carefully he leaned forward, bridging the distance between his body and Beck’s face; he pressed an air-light kiss against her upper lip, prompting a pleasant little squirm from the blushing giantess.

“Where do you want me, Beck?” he asked—as invitingly as he could manage.

Beck’s eyes rolled under her eyelids. “As deep as you’ll go…” she uttered. “But you’re the explorer. I’ll let you chart the course before you start…”

“Mapping your interior?” Simon finished for her.

“Yes. That. Exactly that.”

“So—where’s the starting line?”

Beck eyed him up and down with her lip between her teeth. “How about… here?”

The hand holding Simon lowered; her grip loosened, letting the tiny boy slide down onto the topmost peak of her right breast, directly next to the pink areola. Simon put his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes as though he were surveying an uncharted land. Then, in a merry mood, he said:

“Hey—I think I can see my colony from here!”

This got a laugh out of Beck: she had to cover her mouth to keep from waking Milla. But even this stifled sound shook her whole body, her breasts especially. Simon had to steady himself against her perked-up nipple to keep from slipping down into the valley below.

“You big kidder,” Beck retorted once she had recovered. “They’re not that big.”

Simon scoffed. “They’re not that big,” he parroted in a mocking tone. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of how big things are around here. I distinctly remember being swallowed up by these sweater puppies not five hours ago. They’re not that big… give a guy a break, Beck.”

“If you say so…”

“I feel like I need a flag or something.” Simon propped one foot up on the top of the nipple, holding a fist out as though he would drive a flagpole into the “earth” below his feet. “I claim this land for Spain!”

Beck giggled again, but there was something beneath the mirth now. Simon heard her breath catch and was pleased to note that the nipple under his feet had engorged, standing perfectly pert now. Encouraged, he stretched out his hands and massaged the pink flesh between them, like he was a sculptor at a pottery wheel. He was immediately rewarded with a moan that melted into a deep sigh that fluttered Beck’s lips. Simon’s blood thrilled in his veins. The last time he’d heard her make that sound, he’d been tucked away deep inside her. Here, out in the open air—it was like a siren’s song.

He worked his hands into her flesh, eventually pressing his entire body against her erect nipple. Allowed to wave free, his tiny cock pressed into her, and small as it was Beck seemed to react to its touch. Her hands came up on either side of him, grasping her breasts and pushing them together slightly. Simon tried in vain to keep his balance atop them, and with a cry of surprise plunged down into the valley below. And like before—Beck caught him. She pressed her bosom together, securing him between two soft warm walls of pliable flesh. Simon’s world turned end-over-end as she rubbed her breasts together, massaging him between them. Tumbled in the depths of her bosom, soon the tiny boy didn’t know which direction was up. His head spun pleasantly, and all throughout, the giantess’s heartbeat was a thrumming constant, keeping time like a clock, dictating the pace of the action.

Then Beck released him; Simon tumbled free, onto her torso. He caught his bearings, peering up at his lover with a wild look on his face. “I thought you were letting me chart the course?” he said, grinning.

Beck grinned back. “What can I say—the way forward holds many dangerous obstacles.” Then a mote of worry crossed her pretty features. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she whispered. “I hope I’m not… I mean, I know you’re sturdy, but I don’t want…”

Simon laughed her off with a dismissive wave. “You won’t hurt me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Like I told you—I’m sturdier than I look. I’ve got to be, if I’m really going to…”

He cast a sly eager glance down her torso, towards where her womanhood lay. When he turned back, Beck’s face was flushing mightily, her lip caught in her teeth once more.

“You’re sure?” she whispered. “I know I suggested it but…”

Again he cut her off. “I’ve been inside you one way already,” he teased. “This is the last uncharted frontier. Do you really think I’d pass it up?” Then he went on, in a more serious tone:

“I mean it. I want to do this. Let me please you, Beck. I’m asking.”

Beck stared down at him adoringly, her breath quickening, making her muscles go tight beneath Simon’s feet. “If you insist,” she purred, in an aching tone. “Then I hope you’re ready… because you’ve got me all stirred up. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

Her hand rose up, eager fingers hovering just over Simon’s head. He allowed himself to fall backward, letting Beck catch him and lift him up. Then he was cruising above her: he watched her body move away beneath him, her muscled torso flowing smoothly into her more angular hips. She held him above her panties, so close he could reach out and touch the fabric if he wanted to. And the smell… it was not like the smell of her skin, as potent as that had been. This was stronger still—a wet, junglish odor. His little heart beat inside him like a caged thing, smashing against the walls—but before he could think to do anything else the giantess had hooked the fingers of her other hand through her waistband. Then she had wriggled free of the lacey undergarments. Then…

Then the gateway lay bared before him. Beck’s womanhood—a fleshy swollen slit glistening between her parted legs. Her nether lips were slightly parted, held open and hooded by two fingers on Beck’s other hand. The sight took Simon’s breath away. Here was something he imagined no tiny he’d ever spoken to had ever bore witness to before. It was certainly new to him. In the bright moonlight, the entrance to her dark passageway gleamed and seemed to pulse achingly; he wondered if that thrum could be her heartbeat, moving blood through her, engorging her, getting her ready for…

For me, he realized. The thought sent a twinge of pleasure through his own groin.

She’s ready for me. She’s wet like this… for me. She wants me. Inside of her…

Beck—his Beck. Affectionate, insatiable Beck…

From seemingly miles away, her nervous whimper reached him. “May I…?” she asked.

The question was incomplete. But it was enough.

He repeated what she’d told him before, unable to keep his voice from shaking:

“Beck,” he told her. “I’m all yours.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of her eager grateful grin. Then her hand carried him forward, closer and closer still to her dewy sex. The heat, the smell—all of it completely intoxicating. Simon shut his eyes tight; suddenly the wet slick wall of her womanhood pressed against him, instantly covering him in her warm sweet juices. Beck raised her hips just slightly, enough that her pelvis could be more a platform for her little lover, and he could lay against her mostly unsupported. Simon sprawled across her, breathing her in, but only for a moment. He’d heard the hiss of breath when she’d first placed him against her. He would not keep her waiting.

In the darkness between her legs, his hands groped—but not blindly. Unlike when he had entered her mouth, this was not an entirely foreign experience to him. Though by no means an experienced lover, Simon was no fumbling virgin either. And though the nether parts beneath him were many times larger than any he’d ever touched, he still knew how to touch a woman. His hands found the correct place and pressed down—and Beck sucked in a startled breath. Her hips quivered beneath him, but he did not lose his position astride her. He could tell she was trying to hold back, but as he massaged and molded her with his hands, her sighs grew deeper and throatier, becoming moans, then at last soft cries. She almost seemed to weep with pleasure, a realization that emboldened him. He slipped further down her quivering body, his bare feet slicked by her sex, dangling before the entranceway to her most secret and private place. He teased his legs against the opening, wondering idly if he could enter her under his own power. Simply swing down—and slip inside her, lost within the dark wet cave of her body.

Completely swallowed up, in an entirely new way…

But he didn’t wonder this for long. Too late, he realized the folly of merely teasing Beck with his touch. His lover groaned and took matters suddenly into her own trembling hands. Her twitch right hand moved behind him as though it had a mind of its own, and pressed probing fingers against his back. For a moment her strength only massaged him gently against her moistened womanhood, drawing more aching cries from her lips. Then suddenly he felt himself slip farther down—and deeper in. Beck’s body seemed to close in all around him. He’d entered her headfirst, his arms pressed tight against his sides, sliding in deeper and deeper as thought the fleshy tunnel was actively drawing him inside her.

For a moment, his legs and feet dangled just outside the entrance. Then Beck lifted her hips once more—and little Simon was swallowed down completely.

There was a brief moment of panic. There in the cramped wet darkness, Simon could barely move. Her juices dripped all around him, covering him head to foot, and for a moment the fear of drowning, or being crushed, or simply being trapped inside his lover forever flashed like lightning across his mind. But then another muffled moan of delight made its way to her ears, seeming to come from both miles away and from all around him. The walls of the slick tunnel flexed, seeming to embrace him. Simon remembered where he was. And why he was there.

He wasn’t lost in the dark. He was exactly where he needed to be.

And he wasn’t trapped. And he was far from helpless. He was Simon Groff.

This girl Beck—she was his lover. And love her he would.

With all his strength, he bent at the waist, wriggling forward—and like a magic trick, the pleasure-slicked walls around him seemed to withdraw, loosening their vise grip on his tiny body. With more room to maneuver, each twitch he made seemed to drive the giantess closer and closer to frenzy. Her love was a river all around him now, but instead of pushing him out, her pulsing muscles actually seemed to draw him deeper and deeper inside her with every sigh or whimper that left her mouth.

And this was purposeful, he realized with a delighted shock. Beck was a fighter. An athlete. Every muscle in her beautiful body was precisely conditioned, trained to respond to her every wish. Should that not include even the muscles that surrounded him now? If he was sliding deeper within her, it was because she wanted him there. It was no unconscious thing. She was aware of him keenly, enough to position him inside her how she wanted. Though she could not touch him where he was, she was still loving him.

Even here, trapped completely in her deepest depths—she would keep him safe.

This thought stripped away any lingering fear or inhibition. Simon thrashed freely; now every pulse of Beck’s innermost world sent shocks of pleasure through him as well. Muffled by the blind of her huge body, he could hear her moaning reaching a fever pitch. She had started to thrust her hips. The movements shook him, though the firm grip of her inner walls held him in place as firmly as a roller coaster’s harness. And he was reaching a peak as well; pleasure built inside him like an irresistible wave and he squirmed all the harder… until suddenly the muscular tunnel surrounding him seemed to collapse inward, squeezing him tight, and he could contain it no longer. His breath caught—and he came inside of Beck, just as Beck herself hit her own peak. A flood surged past him. For a moment the juices simply washed over him, still held tight in the grip of Beck’s inner self. Then like a sigh, she released him. Beck lowered her hips and let Simon slip free of her along with the last rivulets of her passion, catching him gently in her waiting hand.

Simon didn’t know where he was. He hardly noticed it when he slid loose from her womanhood, or when Beck placed his dripping body atop her chest, just beneath her collarbone, pressing him to her with one still-quivering hand. But soon the world began to come back, piece by piece. So close beneath him, Beck’s heartbeat was the first thing he noticed. It was even louder than it had seemed when he’d been inside of her, and every quaking breath she took made his soft bed rise and fall like the ocean.

“Did you…?” she asked.

Simon nodded exhaustedly. “Oh. Oh yeah.”

“Inside of me?” she gasped. “I thought I felt…. I mean, but I couldn’t be sure…”

“It was…” Simon panted, trying in vain to catch his breath. “It was…”

Beck’s fingers stroked his back. “It’s all right, cutie…” she murmured. “Don’t talk. Just… be with me.”

He managed to look up at her, her huge face seeming to shine in the moonlight. Her face was somewhere between admiration and disbelief. As if she couldn’t believe what they’d just done.

He understood the feeling.

“We should…” he breathed, despite Beck’s protestations. “We should… do that again… someday.”

Beck nodded, her chest heaving beneath him. “Soon.”

It was all that needed to be said.

---

A little later on, Beck cleaned him of her fluids—using her mouth, kissing him clean. There was no sex in the gesture, only grateful affection, and Simon was still too tired even to stir at the touch of her lips. Soon he was between her breasts once more, cuddled tight to her warm body, the blanket now covering them both. He heard Beck’s whispering voice, though it took her several times repeating herself before her words penetrated the fog clouding his mind:

“Will you stay here with me?”

“In the bed?”

He felt the motion of her silent pleading nod.

“Of course I will,” he responded.

Beck chewed her lip. “Your sister will notice,” she breathed. “She’ll ask questions.”

Simon considered this—but only for a moment. “Let her ask.”

A long pause, as though Beck was holding her breath. “You mean that?”

“I do.” He rolled onto his side, peering up at her sleepily. “Is that all right?”

“I’m afraid,” she said simply. And in her eyes, he could tell it was the truth.

“It’ll be all right,” he assured her. He stood up shakily, though every sore muscle in his body screamed at once. He walked up her chest toward her angled chin, and pressed his lips very softly against her broad cheek. “I’m scared too,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen. But if you’ll let me, I can be brave. I can be brave enough for both of us.”

“Oh Simon…” Beck looked down at him almost sadly, scooped him up for a proper kiss. Then she deposited him back on her bare chest, nestled between her breasts once more. She looked like she might speak again, but instead her head tipped back and her eyes closed. Soon her breathing evened out, and Simon guessed sleep had dragged her away.

He lay between her breasts, hands crossed behind his head. He stared at the ceiling. A shadow moved there, from some light flickering outside. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe it was something else. It didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, and dawn soon after.

It would be all right. Everything that needed to be said had been said already. 

Dawn came. Moonlight became sunlight, streaming thick through the gap in the shade covering Beck’s bedroom window. Simon’s eyes opened, the lids sticking together slightly. He rubbed them and yawned. For a moment the previous evening blurred in his mind; he’d had so many strange dreams while he slept. Then, the ground shifted beneath him, rising and falling. Beck heaved a happy sigh—he looked up, craning his neck to peer into her face, staring down at him.

He was still situated between her bare breasts, tucked in her bosom as though into bed. Neither lover had stirred from that position the whole night through.

“Good morning.” He smiled, staring up at her in amazement. “How long have you been awake?”

“About an hour,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded. If you needed to get up or…”

“It’s not that,” Beck breathed. “I was… Well. I’ve been watching you sleep.”

“Oh.” Simon’s heart stirred inside him, like a car motor starting up on a cold day. “Well—thank you for the, ah. The accommodations.” He put his hands out to either side of him, patting the globes that surrounded and penned him in.

Beck’s lips fluttered in a giggle—then a serious expression crossed her features.

“Simon?”

“Yehuh?”

Her eyes flicked away momentarily, her tongue working behind her lips. “Any regrets… from last night?” A little taken aback, Simon shook his head no. “Or the… evening before?” she persisted.

“None at all.” He twisted around so that he lay right side up on her chest. “What about you?”

“Nope.” Beck sighed happily—and with some relief as well. The gust of wind blew Simon’s hair back. “I just thought…” she said. “Well, I wondered…” She seemed to catch herself, smiling down at the tiny boy on her bosom apologetically. “Never mind. It was silly. I know you enjoyed it too.”

“I did,” he told her, grinning. “And… I know you enjoyed it.”

“The whole apartment building knows.” Beck pressed a hand to her flushing face. “Si, I swear I’m not usually… like that.”

“Like what?”

She flushed mightier still. “Loud like that. You just, I don’t know. Brought something out in me.”

Simon didn’t reply. He only grinned proudly, in spite of himself.

“I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough this morning,” Beck reported. “Are you ready to get up? I can get your clothes for you; you must be chilly.”

Now sitting cross-legged on her enormous bosom, Simon shook his head, still grinning. “Not at all. You’re warmer than a space heater. It’s like sitting on a hot plate.” Swiveling, he struck a cheesecake pose atop her warm skin, angling one pointed toe up in the air. “Ain’t I a dish?”

Beck nibbled her lip. “You’d better knock that off,” she breathed. “Before I have you for breakfast…”

“It’s not good to eat the same thing over and over again,” Simon mused. “Bad for you.”

“I’ll get a doctor’s note,” Beck retorted lustily.

Figuring he’d tease her a little further, Simon shrugged—and stood up suddenly, starting to make his way towards her mouth. “If you insist…” he said slyly. “But you’ll only be hungry again in a few hours. And you’ll have to face my big sister all on your pretty lonesome.”

Beck seemed to consider this, her tongue probing into her cheek. “Hrm. You make good points I guess. But I am a little hungry...” But she was blushing as well, unable to hide the color in her cheeks under the bright morning sun. When Simon reached the point of her chin, her hand appeared and scooped him off her body, bringing him swiftly towards her mouth—but instead of slipping him inside, she only pecked him chastely on the torso and stretched her arm out, placing him gently on the nightstand.

“Go on and get dressed,” she told him, already twisting off the bed to grab her shirt off the floor. “You keep talking like that and I don’t know what I’ll do—and then Milla will kill me for sure.”

A little shaken from the landing, Simon shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He found his clothes and quickly wiggled into them, hopping on one foot to get his pants on. Beck moved slower; when she turned around, she caught site of him sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the dresser, fists supporting his chin, looking up at her and smiling. She’d got her panties on over her shapely bottom, but her chest was still fully exposed. She made a move to cover herself, thought better of it.

“What are you looking at?” she teased.

“You. I didn’t get to see you from this angle. Just up close.”

Grinning, she gave a graceful twirl on the ball of her foot, then struck a pinup pose of her own. “Like what you see?” she asked through pouting lips.

His eyes devoured her. For a moment, words wouldn’t come. “Yes…” he managed to say at last.

Now it was Beck’s turn to look proud. “Never seen you lost for words before.” Wordlessly, she slipped on a dark red brassier and slid a plain black oversized t-shirt on over this, leaving her bottom bared save for her underthings as the shirt was nearly the length of a skirt. Then she placed her hand flat on the nightstand’s surface, crooking her fingers, welcoming Simon aboard her palm.

“Come on then,” she beckoned.

He scrambled up into the hollow of her hand, standing with his feet planted like he did when Milla held him instead of sitting cross-legged like before. “You’re more confident now,” he noticed.

Beck nodded, giving him a tight smile before setting her jaw. “I just hope it lasts,” she said.

He patted one of her crooked fingers. “It will,” he assured her. “I know it.”

Beck shut her eyes a moment, focusing herself like he’d seen her do before. Then she opened the bedroom door. The room had been dimmed by the window shades, so the full effect of the morning was nearly blinding. Simon threw up a hand to shield his eyes and Beck did the same. Instead of placing him on her shoulder, the larger girl simply let him ride on her palm as she wove back toward the kitchen. A warm and wonderful smell greeted them around the corner—frying bacon.

Milla was at the stove. Simon swirled with déjà vu, remembering the last time he and Beck had greeted his sister in this fashion. Without turning, she mumbled: “Oh—good. You’re up.”

She turned her head slightly, marking Simon in Beck’s hand with one eye. “Both of you…”

“Good morning!” Simon sang out. But he couldn’t put much oomph behind his tiny voice. Something in Milla’s tone rankled. A kind of falseness—a too-even timbre that gave away nothing.

“You make enough for three?” he continued, eyeing the pan.

“Enough for two—and a bite.” Here was one of their old jokes. But she still wouldn’t face them fully. And again, the tone of her voice stayed too even, too controlled. “You two… sleep all right?”

This time Beck answered. “I slept fine,” she stammered out, not speaking for them both.

“Oh—me too,” Milla returned. She turned around at last, a plate of piled bacon balanced on one hand, and a sly grin playing across her lips. “Only, not at first. I guess I was still wired from the trip from the colony transport station, and then there was the movie… I just couldn’t get to sleep at first. Finally I had to take one of my sleeping pills, and that seemed to knock me out just fine.”

“A sleeping pill,” Simon parroted suspiciously. Beck sat down at the nook table, laying her hand down on the Formica. But like before, Simon didn’t depart; he simply reclined in her soft palm, running fingers along the creases of her upturned hand.

“Uh-huh.” Mechanically, Milla distributed two plates, one for herself and one for her roommate. “I was out like a smashed bulb. You could have trucked a convoy through my bedroom.”

“Is… is that right.” Flushing mightily, Beck bit down on her lower lip to keep from saying more. She reached for a strip of bacon, unconsciously breaking off a corner and putting it in her hand next to Simon. But the tiny boy hardly noticed—even though his own stomach was growling nearly as loudly as Beck’s. Their exertions the night previous had given them both an appetite, it seemed.

But Milla was still grinning at them, now with her firsts propping up her chin.

“Although…” she purred. “Although… I did keep having just the strangest dreams.”

Without taking his eyes off his sister, Simon wrenched a chunk off the bacon hunk he’d been given and nibbled at it. His poker face held even, though his heart pounded in his ears.

“What sort of dreams.”

Milla didn’t eat. She toyed with a bacon strip between her fingers, even tapping it against her lips. But she didn’t bite. Then she sank her chin down onto her crossed arms, looking along the surface of the table at her little twin. “You remember that nightmare I used to get when we were kids?”

Simon nodded dubiously and chewed bacon.

“Well—it started off like that. I woke up, and you weren’t on my pillow. Or in your sleeping unit. I sat up in the night and I called out for you, and at first…”

Christ—now the teasing grin was unmistakable. Simon felt sweat beading along his forehead.

“Milla…”

“At first,” she interrupted, “I couldn’t hear anything at all. But then—down the hall. I heard a noise, not your voice but a woman’s voice. And well, from the sounds of it, she was having a terrible time sleeping too. Worse than me. Just… tossing and moaning and…”

“Milla…” A protest now in his small voice.

Milla tossed her head back, thrusting her hands below the level of the table and crossing her eyes in a mock-lewd expression. Simon heard Beck’s breath catch; from the corner of his eye, he saw her cover her blushing face with her splayed red-tipped fingers, her shoulders starting to quiver…

In as firm a voice as he could manage he said: “Mil… That’s enough.”

Through new giggles she protested: “I’m only describing what I…”

Simon cut her off with a shake of his bed-haired head. “I know what you’re doing.”

Milla sighed—and seemed to collect herself, putting her cheek in her hand. “All right, I guess that was a little mean. And a little gross.”

“A lot gross,” Simon put in. Milla continued:

“…only, I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon…”

Beck gulped—loud enough for Simon to hear. “Expected it. Expected… what?”

“Oh. I meant… you two. You and my brother.” Now it was Milla’s turn to look embarrassed.

Simon sat forward on Beck’s hand. “Milla. What are you talking about.”

She looked down at her brother fondly, and a little ashamedly.

“I guess I’d better tell you. Or rather… show you.”

Without another word, she stood up from the table, leaving Simon mystified. She went over to the fridge, crouching for something on a low shelf, and returned with two white plastic bundles in her hands. She spilled them out on the table. Two packages of feta cheese.

“Milla… I don’t understand.” But it was a lie, or almost a lie.

“You know how conscientious I am. Did you really believe I left the cheese in the cart at the store?”

Beck got the clue only a moment after Simon grasped it, but spoke first.

“You left us a-a-alone on purpose,” she spluttered. “Why?”

Milla looked pityingly across the table. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Her eyes flicked from Beck, to Simon in her cupped hand, back to Beck. Beck clapped her other hand over her mouth. Simon spoke for the both of them:

“You wanted this to happen. You wanted us to… to…”

“Never seen you lost for words before, Si.”

“Twice in one day!” He rolled his eyes at his own joke. “But why? How did you…”

“It was just a feeling,” Milla explained. “Beck told me she’d been hard up for it for a while. Then I saw how she was looking at you when she first came out of her bedroom. And I knew you were looking to meet people and make friends while you were in the city. So… I dunno. I rolled the dice.”

“Guess you got lucky,” Simon retorted.

“We both did.” It was Beck, speaking at last, her nerves washed away now. She curled her fingers around Simon’s body in an embrace. Simon patted the tip of her thumb, prompting a pleasant shiver.

“You’re not… upset then?” she continued, looking nervously at Milla.

“God, no.” Milla shook her head, grinning a little shyly. “I’m just glad you’re not more upset with me. Like I said—I didn’t think it would happen so quickly. I feel like I pushed you together.”

“Maybe we needed the push,” Simon replied.

“Are you being safe?” A questioning eyebrow from Milla. “I don’t need details, but… You know.”

Simon’s face burned like he’d stuck it too close to an open oven. “We’re…”

“I’m being careful,” Beck stammered out, a little too loudly.

“I know you’ll be careful.” Milla rolled her eyes. “I trust you just fine. It’s this one I’m worried about. He’s braver than anybody I know our size—and just as stupid.”

“I’m being careful too,” Simon assured her. His cheeks still burned, but there was an irresistible grin spreading his cheeks as well. The conversation hardly seemed real. But talking about it, out in the open like this, it made it real. It made it permanent. He looked back at Beck; the same stupid goofy grin was scribbled onto her lovely features as well, parting her red lips to show her front teeth.

“Then I don’t need to know any more than that.” Milla stood up one more time, returning this go-round with two glasses of orange juice. She passed one to Beck and kept the other for herself, holding it above the table as though she would give a toast.

“Look,” she said. “The world is shit. It’s always been shit. All we can do is grab a little happiness for ourselves wherever we can, however we can. So go on, you two crazy kids. Grab a little happiness.”

Then she did raise her glass, motioning for Beck to clink. “To joy,” she said.

“To joy,” came the reply. She lifted Simon as well, in her other hand, letting him participate in the toast. Simon felt warm all over. He looked from face to face, from Beck to his sister, as the conversation went on to other topics as though nothing amiss had happened. He chewed his bacon, hardly tasting the greasy flavor on his tongue. He was thinking of Beck. He was thinking about the future. He was thinking about the world, and everything it could offer him now. And everything he could offer it.

For the first time in his small life, he had something big to look forward to.

It was going to be one hell of a two-week visit.

A little happiness, Simon mused to himself.

Why—that’s exactly what I am.

END OF PART ONE!

Gentle Readers,

As of the time of writing this, FEAR AND DELIGHT has been read a total of 37,000 individual times. That's more times than there are tinies in my colony upstate, for reference. When we first began this project, I had no idea it would become as popular as it has - and I want to say from all of us (myself, Beck, and my sister Milla) that we're all very touched by the love you've shown our little romance-saga so far. So while this particular arc of our story is concluded, I want you all to rest easy in the knowledge that Beck and I have plenty more adventures to get to before Happily Ever After. 

But before we get there, we've all decided to give a special opportunity to both longtime readers and new fans of the story... a Q&A panel!

That's right... for one week starting tonight at midnight (3/10/2022) any questions you ask us in the review section of this story will be READ AND ANSWERED in the next installment of FEAR AND DELIGHT! You can address your questions to me, Milla, or Beck - or any combination of all three of us. And we'll answer to the best of our ability! Be warned however, we will be answering in character, so word your queries carefully!

We're all very excited to learn what you all have been wondering about us! Ask away! Ask away!

And after all the questions are answered, we'll start in with the next arc of our little sensual journey... and meet some exciting new characters with tales to weave!

Looking forward to hearing from you soon.

With love from...

Simon Groff

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Gentle Readers,

When I first posted the invitation to this Q&A Panel, this saga was sitting at just above 37,000 individual reads; as of this second, that number has rocketed up to substantially higher than 41,000. That’s insane – and all of us here are so proud, honored, and… yes, DELIGHTED that you’ve chosen to spend so much of your time here with us. Best of all, you loyal readers sent in some absolutely inventive and tantalizing questions, and you deserve answers to each and every one of them. Milla, Beck, and I are all at our computers (separately, as we won’t be reading each other’s top-secret answers!) and we’re ready to spill our guts to you! So without further ado I present:

THE ”FEAR & DELIGHT” ALL-ACCESS SUPER-SEXY QUERY PANEL OF CHAMPIONS!

Featuring questions from:

Burelot

Milla (holy shit!)

gts33

caveracavera

vorepop

Dear Simon,

About how many tiny people are there in the world? And how many live in your colony? Is it common for tinies to travel into the normal world, and do you know of anyone else having a tiny/normal relationship?

Simon Says:

Those are great questions! Regressor’s Syndrome has been studied for over twenty years at this point since the first outbreak, so we’ve got pretty solid numbers to lean on here. If memory serves, about .06% of the total world population is around my height. That’s still millions of people, but we’re rarer than say, people with dwarfism. There are about 350 of us living in my colony in upstate New York, and that includes (again, to my knowledge!) about every single tiny in the state.

Truth be told, my adventure into the “normal” world as you put it is not especially common. It’s not forbidden or taboo or anything—it’s just much safer for people my size to stay in our government-funded colonies than to try to interact with the outsize world. I actually lived with my family for longer than is typical, only attending college as a tiny because Milla would not have been able to protect me if we were in different classes and dorms and things. Mostly tinies are shipped off to colonies as small children, to be raised by caretakers their own size. That’s not for everybody though—especially me.

And as for tiny-normal relationships… I mean, the stories that Beck reads had to be based on something right? But I’ve never met anybody who’s had a romantic relationship with a tiny, or vice versa. Most of the guys I know from the colony seem to really resent big people for one reason or another.

Dear Milla,

Apologies, as this is—I’m sure—a rather sensitive topic. You say you’re very conscientious, but it seemed quite reckless to eat from the plate your brother was on if you couldn’t see him. Did this incident have a big impact on you?

Milla Says:

Not as big an impact as it had on Simon! Ha-ha. But yes, it was reckless. And of course I was mortified—I’d nearly killed him in a pretty grotesque and inappropriate fashion! So I’m super-grateful to Simon that he wasn’t upset with me or crying or yelling when I managed to rescue him from inside me. I think that might have traumatized me. But like I’ve said before, Simon’s super-brave. We managed to make a joke about it, and the shared secret actually made us closer. And in turn, it seems to have made Si and Beck closer as well. So in a way, I’m glad I had that one reckless moment. Screwy, huh?

Dear Simon,

You’re lucky to have such gentle, lovely giantesses around you—and you live in a society that seems to treat tinies well. But how gentle and understanding is your society towards tinies in general? I see by your words that the world is nice, despite being very different from ours, as normal-sized people seem to go out of their way to keep you safe. But you also talked about frequent political discussions among the tinies… what’s up with that? And how are people who harm tinies treated by your legal system? I know it's hard to CSI out what happened to a tiny who was, say, swallowed whole by an unsuspecting female neighbor—but if somebody is actually tried and found guilty of tiny-murder, how would that be handled? How does your society look at people like that?

Simon Says:

Well—that’s certainly a bit of a gruesome question, isn’t it? (nervous laughter) But you bring up a lot of good points. Yes, I’m super-lucky to have a sister like Milla and a romantic partner like Beck to watch out for me, and I like to think that these days behavior like that is pretty much the norm. But the truth is, I don’t know for sure. That’s actually what I’m here in the big world to find out. There are a lot of rumors in the colonies that the world outside our walls is a kind of anti-tiny hellscape bloodbath… that there are normal-sized folks stomping, crushing, flushing, and devouring us by the truckload. I’m here to prove that’s not true. And so far, if Beck is any indication, the opposite is in fact true. (Thank you, Beck!!)

With regards to the law: Since tinies share all the same DNA with normal-size folks, there was never any question of our personhood. So somebody accused or convicted of killing a tiny is punished just the same as any other murderer would be. But you’re absolutely correct, it is much harder to find those perpetrators—because A, the evidence is much easier to dispose of, and B, tinies in the big world are hard to track and easy to lose. That’s why I go with Milla wherever she goes. And hopefully, later with Beck as well. I do know there are people out there who see tinies as lesser beings, as fodder for sport or pleasure or sustenance, but I hope those are few and far between. But—who knows?

Dear Beck,

You rock, girl! I wanna say that I’m seriously rooting for you and Simon. For so strong a girl, you have a very sensitive and gentle side to you and Simon is very lucky to have you for a girlfriend. Really—it was such a huge surprise that you’re a kickboxer! Really, you’re amazing! Can you do me a favor? Treat Simon well, he’s amazing too! (winks to Simon)

Beck Says:

Well—that’s all very kind of you to say! I’m used to people not realizing how strong I am, I guess they don’t expect a girl like me to be able to fight like I can. I’m all right being underestimated though… it gives me an edge! And don’t you worry, I’ll be good to Simon. He’s… well. He’s very special to me. I’ve never met anybody in the world like him, tiny or otherwise.

Dear Simon and Beck,

I don’t want to spoil the wonderful moment you two are living in, but so far as you know, Simon will be back in the colony in a few weeks. So what are your plans? Simon, are you planning to move into Milla’s apartment? Or do you have to go back—and if so, will Beck visit you there? How do both of you plan on dealing with the separation?

Simon Says:

Okay, truth be told I have no idea how to answer a joint question. So—I guess I’ll answer? And then Beck can answer as well? You’re right, I am scheduled to return to my colony in two weeks’ time. I’m trying not to think about it. I was already loathe to return to my small world (I miss my sister and the excitement of hanging around her and her friends) and now I’ve met Beck… and “met” Beck haha. So I’ll be honest I’m pretty busted up about it. Obviously all of us are hoping for a happy ending of some kind between the two of us, but it’ll take some figuring as to how that’ll work out. In the meantime, my plan is to make the absolute most out of my time with Beck and Milla. That might have to be enough.

Beck Says:

Oh gosh—I don’t want to think about that either. It’s not like I could ask him to stay, right? That would be selfish. I mean, I care about him so much, even though we’ve only known each other a short time. But he has his life somewhere else. And he’s a tiny. He wouldn’t really want somebody who’s over a hundred times his size for a girlfriend, would he? But he’s here for two weeks. I’m hoping there are a few more things we can explore together in that time—because this might be the last time I see him.

Dear Milla,

Oh girl—it’s such a pleasure to meet you! I see your name is Milla too. Mine’s Camilla, but almost everybody I know calls me Milla for short. And it’s not a rare thing that I’ll feel like the story is talking to me when I read my name. Well, you’re a wonderful sort of girl and I understand exactly where you’re coming from, I’d be super-protective of my tiny brother too if I was in your place. You know: “Simon’s braver than anybody I know our size—and just as stupid.” LOL!

Milla Says:

Hey girl! We’re name sisters! How about that! Check it—I’m Camilla too, but Milla’s more fun to say. Simon’s a lucky one I think. If it wasn’t for me, who knows what kind of mayhem he’d wreak on our big world! Don’t underestimate him, he’s capable of incredible things!

Dear Simon,

You’re lucky to be surrounded by such nice giantesses, but how do you handle yourself around less friendly biggos? Or rather—how would you, if you found yourself in a situation like that?

Simon Says:

I don’t expect I’ll ever find myself in a situation like that. I believe that people large and small are fundamentally decent and kind—and I’m confident enough in my own gregarious personality that I think I could talk my way out of any “situations” like that which could arise. But even with my microprojector activated, the truth is if a big person really wanted to harm me—to swallow me whole and not let me out, for instance. Well, there’s not a lot I could do to stop them. So a tiny like me has to be very careful who they interact with. I took a big risk with Beck because I felt like I could trust her, and my trust was rewarded. I don’t go around doing that with everybody I meet, though!

Dear Beck,

I’m curious—what were your views on tinies before you met Si? Did you ever see yourself befriending one, let alone loving one?

Beck Says:

Oh, this is embarrassing! Of course I’d always wanted to meet one. I’d never had the opportunity before. But I never thought I’d form any kind of lasting relationship—not because I didn’t want to, though! I’ve just spent my whole life afraid of my own… fantasies, you know. I always figured that the minute that a tiny figured out I was fantasizing about. You know. Fooling around with them like that, or swallowing them like I did with Simon. They’d be terrified of me, or they’d hate me. I got very lucky that Si’s the kind of boy he is, trusting and brave and… loving, all in one package. God—look at me blush! You’ve got me all worked up over this. He’s just very special, isn’t he?

Dear Milla,

If the roles were reverse and you were the tiny sibling, how do you think your relationship with your brother would be different?

Milla Says:

I don’t think it would be different at all! I’d still be protecting him from his own bravery and stupidity—just like I do now! And he knows it, haha. It’s actually something we’ve discussed. Believe it or not, there’s always been a part of me that wishes I could see the world from Si’s perspective, at least for a little while! I don’t know if I’d dig being a tiny full-time, but maybe!

Dear Simon,

Regressor’s Syndrome—how long has this been around? About since Y2K? Is a movie like Attack of the 50-Foot Woman pretty ironic now, considering the new state of the world? Or is it even more of a cult classic? Also, what’s the filmmaking industry like now? Are size interaction movies and television shows a common thing these days?

Simon Says:

That’s a great question! Regressor’s Syndrome first showed up in the 80s, so the very first tinies are around 40 now. That’s how come all the tech used to assist us is so advanced now, scientists have been developing it for forty years! And yeah, A50W is a major cultural touchstone now. In 2001, there was actually a remake of it that won a bunch of Oscars for vis effects… because they could cast a normal-sized actress to star towering above a bunch of tiny actors in tiny sets. Even the director himself was a tiny! There was a rumor that he and his star were… involved together. But nobody ever snapped a photo. Also—as I’m sure you can well imagine, most of the films centered on tiny -normal interaction are pornographic. Beck’s showed me a few of her favorites, after I teased and begged of course.

Dear Simon,

I think this has been touched on already—but have you ever been in a relationship before? Do you only like big girls or is there a past sweetheart who was more your size?

Simon Says:

I’ve never been much interested in girls my own size. For one reason or another, they lead such small lives. None of them have any aspirations or ambitions. None of them want to do anything but let the colony take care of them. It’s the same with boys my size too. So while I’ve been with a few similar-sized girls, they were flings and nothing more. Not like what I have with Beck.

Dear Beck and Milla,

Have either of you two dated somebody more on the… short side?

Beck and Milla Say:

(in unison, under fits of giggles) NOPE!