“That’s enough out of you, worm!” A sharp sting burned Lanz's cheek as a trimmed fingernail the size of his head catapulted against his face. His head knocked back into the metal wall behind him, and a drop of blood trailed out from his nose.

“Don't go too hard on him, Miriam,” a soldier sitting across from Lanz said smirking. “Our orders are to bring him in alive, and you know how delicate these things can be.” Lanz's wrists were handcuffed behind his back to the bench he sat on. Miriam Silvers, the woman who flicked him, towered over his miniature frame, adorned in army fatigues and a resting scowl. A green, brimmed cap hid most of her short, black hair.

“That’s ‘Corporal’ to you, Private,” Miriam chided. They were on a C-46 Commando, a cargo and personnel transport plane, headed for a military base off the coast of the larger soldiers’ nation of Baltzimar. There were five people on board: the pilot and co-pilot, the corporal and private, and the prisoner. 

“Why does he get special treatment anyway?” the co-pilot asked from the cockpit. “We must've captured at least thirty tinies from that outpost. Why didn't we just ship him off with the rest of his kind?”

“That's classified,” the private answered. “Direct orders straight from the top. Higher ups want our little sergeant here at Fort McKinley’s for questioning.” He leaned back and took a puff of his cigar. "Hogwash if you ask me. I think General Silvers cobbled together this mission to make his daughter feel special.” Miriam turned and sneered at him, her thick eyebrows quivering with pent up anger. The soldiers snickered at her; the corporal was used to disrespect from her peers, whether they were her superiors or her subordinates, and the regularity of their insults did nothing but stoke the burning rage within her. She bent down and primed her middle finger behind her thumb, releasing it in another flick to her prisoner’s bruised face.

“Expect another one of those every time these morons piss me off,” she berated. “If you die, it’s their fault.” She was glad to have been born as tall as she was; the tiny soldiers of the enemy nation made for great stress relievers. Lanz sat in stoic silence. There was little chance for escape so high in the air. It’s not like they’d have any parachutes that would fit him. All he could do was wait and see how things played out. Miriam turned to face the front of the plane. “Muller, what's the holdup?” she called out to the pilot. “We should have arrived at base by now.”

“It's all these damn storms! This is the third detour I've had to make.” The soldiers could hear the thunder pass by them. It was so loud that it was indistinguishable from mortar blasts, and the plane’s interior quaked from the turbulence. Everyone was tense, even if they didn’t show it, their war-weary bodies unable to distinguish the weather from combat, especially when the lightning hit.

            BOOM!

            A thunderous roar echoed through the cargo hold. The plane shook violently, sending Miriam tumbling backwards onto the bench Lanz was bound too. Her lower back smushed the tiny’s lower half into the seat, cramping his legs and pressing his handcuffs against the back of his waist. The woman’s immense weight was supported in part by the bench, meaning it wasn’t enough to break the tiny’s bones, but she was still far too heavy for him to lift, even if her weren’t bound. Lanz squirmed beneath her, his head free and his chest pinned to the wall behind him, but his efforts to free himself were in vain. Miriam tried to recenter herself, but the plane was shaking so violently, she couldn’t pull herself up off the bench.

            “The left wing’s been hit! I can’t keep her steady!” The pilot shouted.

            “Is it the enemy!?” the private asked, hanging onto his seat for dear life.

            “No, we’ve been struck by lightning!” the co-pilot determined. “Fuck! We’re losing altitude!”

            BOOM!

             Another explosion ripped through the plane, most of its left wing gone. “We lost the left engine! We’re going down!” The plane careened to its left, the pilot losing full control of the aircraft. The plane was shaking so much that it felt like it was coming apart at the seams. By this point, there was nothing anyone could do but pray. The private’s cigar fell from his mouth, landing on his lap and burning his thigh.

            “Agh!” He jumped up and was immediately sent tumbling to the back of the plane, his body rising to the ceiling as the plane descended rapidly. Miriam grabbed onto the bench tightly, wrapping her right arm and leg underneath it to stay grounded. Lanz was still sandwiched beneath her. The sounds of thunder were drowned out by the group’s screaming. The pilot held tightly onto the yoke, desperate to regain even the smallest semblance of control, but it was all hopeless.

            “Mayday! Mayday!” the co-pilot screamed into the radio, as if whoever was on the other line could offer any assistance. Not that it mattered; the storm blocked the radio’s signal anyway. Then suddenly, it stopped. All went silent. The plane’s cockpit crumpled like a can of soda, the control center exploded, and the resulting shockwave deafened Lanz and Miriam, knocking the two unconscious. Total black out.

…

             The war between Baltzimar and the United Federation of Fidelphi had been going on for fifteen years, though tensions between the two countries had been straddling the breaking point for half a century. Each country existed as the sole sovereignty on its own continent. The two continents ran parallel to each other with a vast oceanic straight separating the two; ancient cultures believed the continents were once one, cut into two by an angry god. The most notable feature of each country was the size of its people. Citizens of Baltzimar, colloquially referred to as bigs or giants, stood roughly five to six feet tall, while their Fidelphian counterparts, known throughout the world as tinies, were only five to six inches in height.

            Attending a social studies class in either country would give one a wildly different account of how the war started. The basic facts were that each country had a strong desire to conquer the other’s land and assert control over its population and resources. Neither country had any outside allies; the continents were isolated from the rest of the world by wide stretches of ocean, and while trade with foreign powers was still open for both sides, the neutral countries, populated by bigs and tinies alike, refused to take part in what was seen as a needless power struggle. As it stood, most infantrymen were too young to understand why the fighting began, and absolutely no one could be sure how long it would last.

…

            Miriam woke up, her head pounding as she felt her warm, wet blood seep from her forehead. She was still on the bench, the plane around her in disarray but still mostly held together. The cockpit and much of the front was beyond recognition, but the back half still mostly stood. Clutching her head, she sat up, finally freeing the tiny beneath her from her inadvertent hold on him. His head leaned back against the wall, and his eyes were closed. Like her, he had short black hair. He was wearing a white army uniform typical of Fidelphian ground forces; the emblem on his sleeve identified him as a master sergeant.

Miriam pinched the tiny's neck, feeling his slight pulse beating against her fingertips. Good, he's alive, she thought. She was relieved she wouldn't have to explain that he was crushed under the weight of her ass in her mission report. Standing up and looking around the aircraft, it was clear that her compatriots weren't so lucky. What remained of the pilot and co-pilot's corpses lay in burnt pieces around where the cockpit once stood. Miriam walked to the back of the plane where her subordinate's body lay, the back of his head cracked open and drained of blood. Though she didn't care for these people, Miriam mourned the loss of her comrades, saying a quick prayer in their honor.

Miriam opened the plane's hatch, the damaged door falling off its hinges, and stepped outside onto the sand. The plane had crashed onto a beach, an island from the look of it, and if it weren't for the massive boulder in its path, the pilot may have made a successful emergency landing. The sky was clear and blue, showing no signs of the storm that downed them. We must've been out all night, she thought, remembering her captive was still breathing inside the plane.

Miriam returned to grab him, the tiny still unconscious where she left him. She fumbled through the plane’s compartments until she found a small rope, cutting off a length of it with the knife she had strapped to her leg. After unlocking the tiny soldier's cuffs, she grabbed him in her hand like a doll. He felt tougher than he looked, his well-honed muscles lying dormant beneath his uniform. She tied the rope around most of his body, knotting it in the back, binding his arms and legs. She then stuffed him in her pants pocket, so that she could scrounge around the wreckage.

…

Lanz awoke to a sharp pain in his head and tight feeling around his chest and legs. His legs were sore from the weight he had to endure, and to make matters worse, he now found himself cramped in a cloth pocket, his body folded in a U shape along the bottom. He could feel his captor's sturdy thigh rub up against him as she walked. Sunlight poured in from the pocket's opening, beckoning the tiny to escape. He squirmed fervently in an attempt to crawl out of the pocket, but he accomplished little more than banging himself against the brick wall of Miriam's thigh. Moments later, the few rays of sun bequeathed to him vanished, blocked out by a long set of fingers reaching in for him.

“Quit squirming!” Miriam shouted, holding Lanz up to her face. He didn't listen.

“Let me go!” Lanz wriggled around within her grip, but the woman greatly overpowered him.

“Sure thing,” she scoffed. Lanz felt the wind rush through his short hair as he fell five feet into the sand below. He writhed against the ground trying to crawl away from his captor, but he got as far as a centimeter as his body flailed against the grains of sand. Miriam squatted over him, a devious smirk adorned her looming face. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Untie me!” His view of her was eclipsed by her booted foot crashing down on top of him. Her foot dwarfed the five-inch man. The thick, rubber sole flattened him into the sand as Miriam applied just a fraction of her incredible weight onto the tiny.

“Listen up, because I'm not going to repeat myself,” she commanded, bent down on one knee so she could see the slither of Lanz’ body still above the surface under her boot. “No matter where we are or what our current situation is, you are still my prisoner. You will follow my command at all times without question. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, ma'am,” he grumbled. She ground her boot further into the earth. The overwhelming rubber odor was the only distraction Lanz had from the oppressive force applied to his body.

“Fortunately for you, my orders are to bring you back alive, and I plan on following those orders. But if you give me reason to, I can always report to my superiors that you died in the crash. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal,” he grunted, half-buried in the ground with sand pouring into his open mouth. Miriam lifted her boot off him. The black rubber left a stain on his cheek. Lanz looked up at woman towering over him. She had taken off her fatigues’ top, revealing the black tank top she wore underneath. Her shirt was soaked in sweat, plastering it against her rippling abs. Her broad shoulders connected to her bulging biceps; if she wanted to, she could probably squeeze the tiny into pulpy juice with one hand alone. She bent forward and picked the man up. As Miriam lifted him up towards her chest, Lanz realized her boobs were larger than he expected them to be, no longer hidden beneath her fatigues, with her nipples prodding against the thin fabric of her tank top; Miriam was the type of woman who was more comfortable with a gun than a bra.

“I’ve taken stock of our supplies,” Miriam explained, walking along the coast away from the wreckage. She held Lanz at her waist, swinging him back and forth as she fell into the rhythm of her gait. “The radio’s destroyed beyond repair, and that plane isn’t going anywhere. We have ten emergency rations, six flares and one gun to fire them, four M1 rifles, four M1911s including my own,” she placed her hand beside the pistol holstered at her waist, “two M1919A4 machine guns, and enough ammo for all of them to last a month.”

“Hey!” Lanz was getting tired of pendulating. Miriam didn’t bother to notice.

“And we have the weapons we confiscated off of you: the knife and that dinky revolver.”

“Hey!” Lanz head snapped back as Miriam pulled him up to her face.

“What!?” she scowled. A bit of spit flew out of her mouth, spraying the tiny.

“Your boot’s untied,” Lanz advised. She looked down to see he was right.

“Oh… thanks.” Miriam tucked the tiny into her armpit as she knelt down to tie her laces. The pit engulfed the tiny’s torso, her sweat soaking through his rope bindings onto his clothes. Short underarm hairs bristled against his bindings. It had been a full day since she last applied deodorant, and the only reason Lanz wasn’t writhing against his new prison was because of how paralyzing Miriam’s rife B.O. was. Once her boot lace was tied, she stood back up and pulled Lanz from her armpit, getting a whiff of her odor in the process. “Damn, you smell awful.”

“Where are you taking me?” Lanz asked, ignoring her misattributed remark.

“I’m getting a lay of the land. We seem to be on an island, no signs of civilization yet. I can’t trust you on your own, so you’re accompanying me until we’re rescued.” Miriam continued hiking along the coast, hoping to find another landmass, or better yet, a travelling vessel, on the horizon. Lanz attention, on the other hand, turned inland.

“Would you care for a suggestion?” he asked. Miriam cocked an eyebrow which Lanz took as acknowledgement. “See that plateau over there, rising just above the trees?” Miriam turned and saw the large landmass off in the distance. “Climb up there and you’ll have a much better view.” She was hesitant to take the tiny’s advice, but it was a better idea than circling the island.

“Fine.” Miriam carried Lanz across the beach and into the foliage. It was a tropical island, palm trees dotting the forest with the squawks of colorful birds echoing across the land. Even better, the squealing of wild pigs and the chattering of small mammals could be heard as well, meaning fresh food would be easy to come by. The woman walked with her captive until they reached a freshwater spring pouring in from a small waterfall.

“This’ll work as a water source,” Lanz commented, “meaning we won’t have to boil our own. I bet there are more springs like these we could use for bathing and such.” Miriam listened half-heartedly as she dipped her head into the water, parched from all the walking and sweating she did. Water cascaded off the contours of her face as she pulled it out. Though her features were hard and angular, there was a subtle delicateness to her expression accentuated by the running water.

“Want some?” Still holding him, she placed her index finger behind his head and pressed him down into the spring. Water ran up his nose as he tried to raise himself out of the drink, but her finger kept him submerged. Miriam wasn’t trying to torture him, genuinely attempting to assist him while he was bound, but she had no clue how to handle a tiny and basically treated him like a doll. Lanz coughed as he was brought out of the water. “Good to go?”

“Please, untie me,” he begged between coughs. Ignoring his pleas, Miriam continued further inland towards the plateau until she reached her destination.

Miriam approached the jagged cliffside which stretched fifty feet upward. Millennia of coastal winds eroded the rockface, giving it a rough surface with plenty of protrusions and crevices, making it suitable for free climbing. The ground at the base of the cliffside was wet and muddy, still soft from the prior evening’s storm.

"I'll need both hands to scale this," Miriam said, holding Lanz up to her face. The tiny looked down over the edge of her fingers to the deep trench of her cleavage enticing him from below. He unwittingly stared at it for a minute or so before his gaze turned upward towards his captor's irritated glare. "Not in your wildest dreams, lech." She opened her mouth wide and wedged Lans between her teeth, biting down on his rope-bound body like a dog holding a chew toy. Miriam grabbed hold of the jagged rockface and began climbing.

“Why not just put me in your pocket?” he asked.

“I on’t ant ou allin’ out," she muttered, her tongue lodged under his body. Hot, heavy breaths clouded around Lanz as Miriam exerted every muscle to scale the plateau. Lanz’s viewpoint was locked towards her right arm, mesmerized by the flexing bicep holding up her weight. The tiny soldier was no stranger to strong women, but none of the ones he fought alongside could compare to the sheer power Miriam possessed. At full flex, her biceps were the size of a car and were strong enough to flatten an armored truck. He thought about the teeth clenched onto him; it was obvious she wasn’t really biting down, and he was certain she could bite cleanly through bone if she wanted to. Her grunting rang through his ear as she approached the top, and her grip tightened on the tiny the further she exerted herself. Sweat dripped off her cheek onto the back of his head.

After several minutes climbing, Miriam threw her arms over the edge and lifted herself onto the barren plateau, spitting Lanz onto the dirt. She rolled onto her back and caught her breath, the sun still high in the clear, afternoon sky. Lanz laid next to her, waiting for her to get up; there wasn’t much else he could do tied up.

The plateau covered much of the island’s center. It was dry and barren with only a few patches of grass as its only vegetation. Aside from a few eagle nests, the plateau was devoid of fauna. There was a canyon cutting through its center, leading to a large creek flowing below.

Eventually, Miriam got up and grabbed Lanz, looking out over the edge with him to see the entirety of the island. By normal standards, it wasn’t large, big enough to fit a private estate or a small naval outpost. For tinies, it could host a small city, though the island’s distance from all other civilization would mean they’d have zero contact from the outside world. It was clear people of neither size had set foot here, at least not for long. The island was abundant with brilliant, green jungles. Cool, blue springs were dotted across the landscape, flowing into creeks and rivers that spread throughout the island and into the ocean. Tropical birds painted the skies and treetops, boars and pigs trudged along the ground, monkeys and lemurs swung from branches. Compared to the war-torn nations the soldiers hailed from, this was paradise. It was as if they died in the plane crash and ascended into heaven.

Miriam made note of the sun’s position in the sky. “That’s north,” she said, pointing towards the site of the plane crash. “We were flying across Baltzimar’s southern coast, so it must be to the north of us. But, I didn’t know of any island that close south of us.”

“You’re right,” Lanz added. “The climate’s too warm here. I’ll be able to tell our exact position once the stars come out, but we must be a thousand miles out from Baltzimar at least.”

“A thousand!?” Miriam almost dropped her captive. “That’s impossible! Fort McKinley’s only a couple hundred miles to the southeast. How could we have crashed so far off the flightpath?”

“Those must’ve been some wide detours your pilot took,” he asserted. Given what he was hauling, Lanz thought, he was probably given a roundabout flight path to begin with, if Fort McKinley was even their real destination. That storm would’ve only exacerbated his ‘detours.’ “We shouldn’t expect a hasty rescue.”

“Alright,” Miriam said as she wrapped her head around the situation. “Let's return to the crash site. We can set up camp there.” The woman placed her captive in her mouth once again, to Lanz continued annoyance, and lowered herself over the cliff's edge. Scaling down proved to be a bit tougher, having to feel around for suitable footholds. There were a few close calls where her foot slipped or she lost her grip, her bite tightening with every slip up, but before long she was halfway down the cliffside. There was a small hole in the rockface begging to be grabbed onto as Miriam searched for her path down. Gripping down on the edge of the hole, Miriam felt a tingling sensation pattering across the back of her right hand. 

Two scorpions, each the size of Lanz's whole body, crawled out from their nest onto her arm, stingers pointed ominously towards the climber. Lanz could feel his captor's breath quicken as she stared wide eyed at the arachnids. 

“Don't move,” he cautioned, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Don't startle them, just let them crawl over you.” Miriam tried to heed his advice, but in her nervousness, her sweat soaked palm lost its grip on the edge of the hole. In her panic, she also lost her footing, having to hold herself up with one hand clutched onto a protruding edge. As her right arm fell to her side, one scorpion flung off it, but the other pinched her, holding its target steady as it plunged its stinger into her bicep.

“Ah!” With a jolt, Miriam screamed, dropping Lanz out of her mouth. He fell twenty feet, landing face up in the mud; his bound body was sore, but the soft mud averted any serious injury. Miriam followed shortly after, splashing mud onto the tiny as her massive body collapsed to his side. Vindicated, the scorpion scuttled off in search of a new nest.

“Miriam! Miriam!” Lanz wormed through the mud, squirming onto her arm as she lay still. “Stay with me!”

“Ow.” Miriam stirred a bit. “Fuck me, that hurts.” Leaning over her arm, Lanz noticed the gaping wound on her back. When she fell, her back got caught on a sharp, protruding edge of the rockface which sliced a clean cut up it as she fell. The cut was deep, and blood was spilling out onto her tank top.

“Listen, Miriam, you've got to untie me. We have to address the sting first, then we can worry about your back.”

“Absolutely not!” she cried, looking over her shoulder to Lanz. “You'll just hoof it the moment you're free.”

“We don't have time to argue! If you don't untie me now, that scorpion poison is going to kill you before you even have the chance to bleed out!” Miriam gritted her teeth. She couldn't trust him; she had no reason to. Of course, he'd want her to untie him, so he could run off and leave her to die, enjoying this paradise all to himself while he awaited rescue. But she didn't have a choice. The prick in her arm was starting to numb, and it wouldn't be long before she lost all movement in it.

With the strength she could muster, she reached down to grab the knife strapped to her leg, knocking Lanz off her arm and into the mud as she unsheathed it. She wedged the blade between his chest and the rope and severed his bounds, freeing the tiny at long last.

“Hand me your knife,” Lanz ordered, wasting no time as he approached her wound. Miriam suppressed her judgment and handed him the knife. The seven-inch blade, in conjunction with its handle, dwarfed the tiny, but he managed to wield it by leaning it against his shoulder. Holding it upside down by the blade, Lanz carved a small cut where the scorpion stung her, drawing blood. He tossed the knife aside and pressed his face against the wound, coating himself in blood as he sucked the venom out of her bloodstream.

It took a couple minutes of sucking and spitting, Miriam dumbstruck at the lengths her enemy was going for her, but Lanz managed to get the poison out of her system before it could do any lasting damage. With that job complete, he crawled over her arm and onto her back. The cut laid out before him like a fissure in the earth. 

“It's just a flesh wound,” he noted, examining the injury. “There's no major damage to anything beyond the muscle, but the cut's deep. It'll need stitches.” Lanz jumped off her back and started towards the direction they came from. His face and uniform were soaked red in Miriam's blood. 

“Wait, you're not going to leave me here, are you?”

“The first aid kit's back at the plane. I'll need it to treat the wound. You'll be fine for a while as long as you don't move.”

“But…” He was already gone, running off towards the beach. Miriam was alone, nothing but searing pain and the squawking of birds to keep her company. Every minute that passed carried Miriam's faith in Lanz with it. She was sure he abandoned her, that he decided saving her wasn't worth the effort or supplies. Twenty minutes passed, and she had half a mind to crawl to the beach, giving that tiny piece of shit what he had coming, even if it killed her. But she waited, blood slowly dribbling from her back, the faintest part of her holding out hope for his return. Her vision grew blurry, her throat parched. It became difficult to perceive everything around her: the palm trees blowing in the wind, the flies clinging to her skin and soaking in her sweat, the taste of the mud that splashed in her mouth, the piercing green eyes staring at her from the bush.

From the bushes in front of her, a black panther crept out, snarling at the injured woman. Miriam stared back, her wound’s bleeding hastening as her heartbeat sped up. Very slowly, she felt around her waist for her handgun, but it wasn’t there. The holster was gone, sitting more than an arm’s reach away in the mud. During the fall, the belt caught on the sharp rock, splitting it apart and sending her gun hurtling out of reach. If it were only a few inches to the left, she could grab it and stop the panther before it struck, but it was so far that by the time it’d take for her to roll over to it, the panther would already be on her.

All she could do was look the predator in the eye, afraid even a sudden glance away would be enough to trigger the animal. This is it, she thought, It’s over. This wasn’t how she thought her life would end. She had a whole life ahead of her. She was going to rise through the ranks, eventually become a general, and earn the admiration of her people. History books would speak of her as a hero, responsible for several strategic victories, and attributed with the accomplishment of triumphing over Fidelphi, ending a war all thought endless. She was to die of old age, comfortably in her bed after a celebrated retirement. If not that, then she would at least be killed honorably on the battlefield, her efforts instrumental in her nation’s inevitable victory. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, stuck on some island God-knows-where, placing her last hope on her mortal enemy only to be slaughtered by wildlife.

The panther primed to pounce, reeling itself back, head low and hind high. Miriam didn’t waver, afraid that if she closed her eyes, she’d never open them again. But as the panther leapt at her, it winced back as what sounded like a firecracker shot off to Miriam’s left. A small spout of blood leaked from the center of the panther’s right eye. Miriam looked over to the source of the sound.

“.0357 magnum cartridges,” Lanz said with a proud grin. Smoke billowed from the barrel of his Model 27 revolver. “These puppies pack enough punch to tear clean through even your thick skull.”   He cocked the hammer and pointed the barrel straight for the big cat’s head. Unable to see from its right eye, the panther hissed and darted back into the bush. Once the fear of death washed away, Miriam noticed the gloves on Lanz hands. While having incredible piercing power, tiny ammunition inflicted notoriously little damage to its target, even with direct hits to vital organs. To compensate, Fidelphi’s military scientists developed a synthetic toxin potent enough to paralyze a giant in extremely small doses. This toxin was then infused into all Fidelphian ammunition during manufacturing, raising their pellets to the devasting power of a giant’s bullet. One shot to an arm or leg was enough to put the limb out of commission, permanently if the wound wasn’t treated fast enough. A direct shot to the heart or brain would shut the organ down, leading to near instant death. Touching the outside casing wasn’t enough, the bullet had to pierce skin to have a real effect, but Fidelphian soldiers grew accustomed to wearing gloves into combat, not caring for the numbing sensation holding the bullets inflicted them with.

“You came back…” Miriam said in disbelief.

“You’re more useful to me alive than dead.” Lanz holstered his gun and trekked over to Miriam. He was pulling a small rope over his shoulder, hoisting a first aid kit the size of a garage. He had removed his uniform coat; like Miriam, he was wearing a black tank top underneath. His arms were covered in scars, both from blades and bullets. The scars ran up his shoulders and peeked out from his shirt, presumably continuing across his torso. His sweat soaked tank top clung to his musculature, and even with his small stature, Miriam could make out the contours of his chiseled abs and toned pecks. He carried a knife with an inch-long blade strapped to his back like a short sword. He unlatched the kit and pulled out antiseptic, sewing string, and a needle.

“That was one hell of a shot,” Miriam commented. Lanz climbed on top of her shoulder, hauling the medical supplies onto her back as he returned to the wound.

“Roll up your shirt.” It annoyed her that he ignored her compliment, but she did as requested. He stepped over her shirt, supplies in his arms, as it rolled up beneath his feet. Crouching down on her tense skin, Lanz dumped half the small bottle of antiseptic onto her cut, sending wincing pain crawling up Miriam’s spine.

“What the fuck!?”

“Sorry, I’m not used to treating wounds this big.” He walked across the wound pouring antiseptic, much to Miriam’s chagrin. Once disinfected, Lanz crouched down at one end of the cut and grabbed the needle and string. The needle was the length of his arm, making it a bit more wieldy for him than if it were to his scale. Compared to the antiseptic, and the wound itself, the prick of the needle wasn’t too bad, Miriam’s toughened body used to such inconsequential pain. Lanz crawled along the length of the cut, Miriam’s blood and sweat covering his knees and shins as he inched forward, sewing the wound shut along the way. A few minutes passed, and he reached the top, cutting the string with his knife and tying it together. It wasn’t his best handy work, but for it being his first time treating a giant, it got the job done. “Alright, you should be good to stand now.”

Lanz leaped off her back and returned the medical supplies to the first aid kit. Miriam slowly got up, clutching her back as she adjusted to the treatment. “Think you can walk back to camp?” Lanz asked.

“Yeah. It stings, but I should be fine.”

“Good, because I can’t carry you.” He closed the first aid kit and grabbed the rope tied to it, ready to haul it back to camp. “Go slow. Once we’ve reached the beach, try not to move too much. The wound should heal in a few days and then we can remove the stitches.” Miriam reached down and grabbed the first aid kit, lifting Lanz into the air and wrapping her free hand around his body.

“I can lift this much at least. I’m not going to wait for you to catch up.” Miriam walked over to her gun and tied the belt around her waist, and then made for the crash site. This time, she held Lanz upward, not swinging him around with her gait.

…

            The sun began its descent past the horizon to the west, the evening sky awash in amber twilight. Stars began popping into view, and even though the sun was still up, a thousand miles out from civilization there were already more stars visible than either soldier knew back home. “I was right. We’re nowhere near Baltzimar, or any country for that matter,” Lanz said, mapping the stars. “This island’s uncharted. Our coordinates don’t match any known landmass. Better yet, we’re in neutral waters, so neither side is going to risk sending a ship this way without good reason.”

            “So, we’re not getting rescued is what you’re saying,” Miriam remarked. They were sitting on the beach not far from the wreck. They had just finished eating one of the rations for dinner. Lanz decided they should hunt or fish whenever possible, saving the rations for emergency situations, and since Miriam was in no condition to haul game big enough for her to consume, this was considered one of those situations. “A crack shot and a star gazer. Are all Fidelphi soldiers so well-trained?”

“Not exactly,” he dismissed. She didn’t get why he was so averse to compliments. Darkness encroached the two as the sun continued its descent.

“We might as well turn in for the night. We can formulate a survival plan in the morning.” She glanced over at the tiny seated beside her, specifically at the weapons still on his person. “I’ll be confiscating those for the night.”

            “Like hell you will.” Lanz stood up defiantly. “I need these to defend myself, in case a wild animal comes at me in the night.”

            “Sleep in the plane, then. You expect me to be able to sleep with you armed like that? I’m not taking the risk of having my throat slit in the night.”

            “You can’t be serious. You think I wasted those medical supplies on you just so I could kill you in your sleep?” He had a point, and she knew it. Miriam stood up, hoping her towering figure would remind him of the authority she held over him.

            “You tinies are all tricky like that! You don’t fight fair, you’re always lurking in the shadows, setting ambushes, striking when we’re unaware.”

            “Right, because you giants fight so honorably with your flamethrowers and your bombing runs.” Tensions rose. Blood boiled. Miriam was sick of being questioned, of being defied. She was sick of not getting the respect she deserved. She drew her gun, pointing the hand cannon straight at her enemy’s puny head.

            “You’re my prisoner, and you’ll do as I order! Hand over your weapons and then tie yourself up! Freeing you was a mistake.” Lanz stared down the barrel of the gun, his expression betraying no emotion. He squared his feet and stanced up. His right hand hovered over the holster on his waist. He stood as still as a statue, motionless save for his trigger finger quivering in anticipation.

Miriam looked down the barrel of her gun into the black pits of his eyes. Something in there scared her. They weren’t the eyes of a man, nor where they the eyes of a soldier, nor those of a predator staring down its prey. No, they were the lifeless eyes of a killer, of a steely monster who only felt alive when taking another’s. In a single, smooth motion, Lanz drew his gun from his holster. In the millisecond it took him to draw, Miriam pulled the trigger, her pistol aimed straight for his head.

Click!

Her whole life flashed before her eyes. Every mistake and regret flushed through her consciousness. Every happy moment she ever felt bled into her memory.

Click!

She pulled the trigger again. Nothing. Her gun clicked, and that was all. Nothing came out of the chamber. Lanz stood before her, utterly unscathed, twirling his revolver with his finger like the fabled gunslingers of yore.

“Your safety’s on,” he pointed out with a cocky smirk. The hollow look in his eyes vanished, returning to normal with frightening ease. His gun spun in his hand like a propellor, and as smoothly as he drew it, Lanz returned the revolver to its holster. Miriam, ashamed and upset, lowered her pistol, slowly returning it to her side. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I trust you as far as I can throw you. But as long as we’re stuck here, we’re both prisoners of this island, and I don’t care what your orders are, we’re both more useful to each other alive than dead.” With his piece said, Lanz turned from her and walked towards the plane.

Miriam sat back down in the sand and stared out into the open ocean. Far past the horizon was her home, her family, her career, everything she had left behind. She hoped Lanz was wrong, that there’d be a Baltzimaran vessel in the morning, ready to pick her up and return her life to her. But her heart accepted the truth, that she was stranded on this island with naught but her enemy.

Miriam awoke to the sound of a rope dragging across the ground. She was sleeping on the bench inside the wrecked plane, having draped a tarp over her as a blanket. Looking over the bench's edge, she saw a long length of rope sliding across the plane's floor, leading outside the open hatch. Rubbing the crust out of her eyes, she walked outside to question the culprit.

“What are you doing?” she asked the tiny soldier hauling the rope over his shoulder.

“Hunting.” Lanz was walking in the direction of the jungle, his sword of a knife strapped to his back.

“For what? Mice?” She trotted up to him, her tree-like legs catching up to him in seconds. 

“For one of those pigs we heard yesterday,” he said, as he continued walking. He kept his gaze forward, resisting the urge to look at Miriam. She wasn't wearing pants, her bare, sturdy legs towering over the man beside them as sand filtered through her bare toes. “There's enough meat on one of them to last us a few days.” 

“Those things are big enough to eat you. How do you expect to kill one with a rope and a scalpel?”

“Don't worry, I'm used to killing things bigger than me.” Miriam stopped in her tracks, perturbed by his remark. “I'll be back in an hour.” 

“I'm coming with you.”

“Your lumbering ass will only scare them off.” She had a half a mind to flatten him under her “lumbering” ass. “Stay here and get some rest. Your wound isn't fully healed yet.”

“Like I told you yesterday, I can't trust you on your own. No matter what you say, you're still my prisoner, so I'm joining you, and that's final.” Lanz stopped and turned to face her, trying and failing to keep his gaze above her waist.

“Fine,” he sighed. “There’s some fruit in the plane I gathered earlier. Once you’re finished with breakfast, grab a bucket and meet me in the woods. And put some pants on.”

…

Lanz cringed with every step Miriam took as she trailed behind him through the thicket. When she wasn't snapping a branch underfoot, rustling a bush as she passed, or noshing through the skin of a juicy mango, she was finding some other way of producing an uproarious cacophony. Was she even trained in stealth? Lans thought. We might as well shout to every pig on the island that we're coming to kill them. 

Miriam caught up to Lanz effortlessly, rolling up the rope he was dragging as she made her way through the dense jungle. She bent over and picked Lanz up by his chest, perching him on her shoulder as she continued trekking through the woods. Along with the bucket he requested, she also brought an M1 rifle slung around her other shoulder.

“You won't need that,” Lanz said, taking a quick glance back. “The bullet will taint the meat, and I'm not going to chase a bleeding pig across the island.”

“This is insurance. If your rope trick fails, then we’re doing it my way.” As she spoke, the butt of her gun knocked into the trunk of a palm tree, sending the birds roosting on into a squawking frenzy. Lanz rolled his eyes.

“Hold up. Stop,” he groaned. “If you’re going to keep making this much noise, we might as well give up now.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, taking another loud bite of her mango. “I’m not making any noise.”

“This is why you bigs are so easy to ambush. Just because you can’t hear it, doesn’t mean the rest of the forest can’t. Animals can distinguish between different sounds; good soldiers can too. Those birds aren’t going to hide the sound of your footsteps from your prey, so you have to be careful about where you step and how your body impacts your surroundings.”

“Y’know, we’d make a lot less noise if you didn’t lecture so much.”

“And you’d have an easier time focusing if you worked on that attitude,” he grumbled. Miriam spurned his admonishment and resumed walking, putting a modicum of effort into quieting her gait. “Pick up some mushrooms along the way,” Lanz advised. “You can carry them in the bucket if you want.” There was a white mushroom with a bright, red cap sprouting next to Miriam’s foot. She plucked it out of the ground and almost tossed it into the bucket. “Er, not that one. That one’s poisonous.” The woman recoiled her fingers, dropping the fungus onto her boot before kicking it into the bushes. “Try sticking to the less colorful ones. Those tend to be safe.”

“Where do you learn all this stuff?” Miriam said in a huff.

“Books, mostly. Other times, the hard way.” The two continued hiking for a while. While the vibrant overgrowth shaded them from the tropical sun, the sweltering humidity kept their sweat from evaporating, making the trek all the more uncomfortable.

Eventually, they stumbled into a small, muddy clearing surrounded by trees and flora. “This’ll do,” Lanz decided. “Dump the mushrooms into a pile in the center here, and hand me the rope.” Miriam did as requested while Lanz circled a tree with the rope, tying it around the trunk. He led the rope past the shroom pile, worming it into a loose, open knot beside it before leading the rest of the rope into the thicket and tying the other end around a bush stem. Returning to the pile, Lanz directed Miriam to help him set up rocks and sticks around the rope and mushrooms, creating a clear path to lead pigs onto the noose he formed on the ground. Then, he laid down in the mud and started rolling around in it.

“Spread this around your body,” he advised. “It’ll mask your scent.” Miriam followed his lead, scooping up mud in her hands and coating her arms, face, and chest in it. She reached under her top and rubbed mud across her breasts and abs, as well as covering her shirt and pants with it. “Now, we crawl under that bush and wait.”

Underneath the dense leaves of the bush, Miriam laid on her stomach, Lanz mirroring her on the back of her right shoulder. “When a pig enters the clearing, on my signal,” Lanz tapped the exposed skin of her shoulder twice, “pull that rope and hold it tight. The trunk and stem will ease some of the burden, but I need you to hold it steady to maintain tension while I go in for the kill.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t joined you?” she asked, peeking over her shoulder at the miniature man lying on her.

“The snare would have been more complex, suspended off one of those branches to lift the pig into the air. It would have taken a good chunk of daylight to set it all up, gathering the materials, carving a trigger hook and its base, tying everything together.” It was only after explaining the steps to her that Lanz realized how much time and effort his stubbornness would have cost him. “So, thanks.”

The two lied still for nearly an hour, silent as the ground beneath them. Even Miriam, who slunk as deftly as an elephant, could silence herself when she concentrated and remained motionless. On the battlefield, remaining hidden in one spot for long periods of time, focused on an unseen target, was imperative when dealing with enemy snipers or staking out hostile territory. In their element, the two soldiers melded into one, uniting in their shared need for food. Their breaths were deep and slow. Their heartbeats were practically nonexistent. They were as much of the forest as the bush they hid under. Ants and spiders crawled over them like they would any other mound of dirt. The cool mud helped suppress their body heat, especially for Lanz who had to contend with Miriam’s as much as his own. Miriam’s rifle rested at her side, a last resort for if their trap failed.

Awoken from their stasis, the soldier’s ears perked up at the snorting pig trotting into the clearing. Its nose quivered at the fragrant mushrooms piled before it. Avoiding the detritus as Lanz planned, the pig slowly approached the pile, its front leg inching ever nearer to the noose. Miriam steadied herself, banishing all thought from her mind as she awaited Lanz’s signal. His left hand hovered over her shoulder, above the skin exposed within her shirt’s collar; his right hand gripped the handle of his blade strapped to his back. The pig took a step forward and chomped into a mushroom.

Two taps. Miriam yanked at the rope, tightening it around the pig’s ankle. Lanz vaulted off her shoulder and sprinted like a lightning bolt into the clearing. The pig bucked and squealed, desperate to free itself from the snare, but Miriam held on with her incredible strength, the fibers of the rope digging into her palms. Within the second it took for Lanz to reach the pig’s bulbous neck, he unsheathed his knife and aimed its point at his target.

Tiny combat knives were forged with one purpose in mind: slitting giant throats. Sturdy and razor-sharp, the one-inch by one-third-inch blade was designed to slice through thick flesh like butter without shattering against the skin and muscle it was plunged into. The soldiers of Fidelphi were trained in the art of cleaving giant throats in as smooth a motion as it’d be to slit the throat of someone their size. Without losing momentum, Lanz plunged his knife into the pig’s neck and ran it across to the other side, dowsing himself in a crimson shower. As the pig collapsed to the ground, Miriam crawled out from the bush, no longer needing to hold onto the rope.

Lanz gripped his blade between his upper arm and forearm, wiping the blood off it before returning it to its sheath. He appeared in a trance, his eyes hollow. Miriam hesitated to approach him, reminded of the fear she felt the evening prior when he stared down the barrel of her gun with that very same look. He blinked a few times, and his regular disposition returned. The pig had died instantly, too quickly to have felt much beyond the initial prick, and now lied still beside the tiny.

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed,” Miriam commented. Lanz wiped the blood off his face with his arms. Though, with them too being stained red, he did little more than smear the sanguine fluid around. “I was afraid I’d was going to have to do all the heavy lifting around here.”

“I mean,” Lanz glanced at the pig’s jaw, large enough to swallow him whole, “you will have to carry it back. I couldn’t even budge this thing.” The tiny walked around to the pig’s belly, examining the succulent corpse. “You familiar with skinning wild game?”

“Only fish,” she responded. “I’ve never hunted before. Not animals, at least.”

“Well, the principle’s the same. I’ll guide you.”

…

            Miriam and Lanz were back on the beach, the sun high in the cloudless sky. Their gutted prize was suspended a foot off the ground above a blazing fire pit of discarded branches and palm leaves. The two soldiers sat across from each other, chopping up pig guts on a palm leaf to be used as fish bait. It had been quite the sight, Miriam hoisting the pig carcass over one shoulder, carrying the bucket of guts in her other hand through the jungle. Lanz hoped to check the wound on her back at some point, worried the strain might have reopened the cut, but considering he was soaked in pig’s blood, he thought it best to wait until he could wash off before performing any medical examinations.

            While they chopped, Miriam kept peeking at their slow cooking dinner. Her stomach rumbled like a revving engine as she watched the pig roast, juicy fat glistening on its crispening skin. Lanz shot a few nervous glances in the direction of her belly.

"What's up?" She asked, catching his wandering eye.

"N-nothing. I was just, uh… Do your people actually eat tinies?"

"Ew! No!" she said, recoiling. "That's disgusting. I'd rather eat a cockroach." Though somewhat comforting, Lanz also found that oddly insulting.

            “Back home, we’d tell children stories of scary, man-eating giants. It’s how parents got kids to eat their vegetables.” He pointed one blood soaked finger in the air and waggled it like a lecturing parent. “‘If you gorge on nothing but sweets, then giants will gobble you up as their treats.’”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Miriam scoffed, spurting blood onto her arm as she sliced through the pig’s heart. “Though, I suppose I shouldn’t judge. As kids, we were told nursery rhymes about how tinies would sneak into our homes at night and steal our food and valuables. They targeted kids who didn’t clean their rooms because it gave them more places to hide.” She pointed her sanguine finger skyward to mimic Lanz. “‘If it lacks the tail of a rat, or the wings of a bat, then do your part by stomping it flat.’” Lanz paused, grimacing at the thought.

            “You tell that to your children?” he asked.

            “Sort of. ‘Stomp them flat’ is a slogan for the war effort. They air it on commercials and hang posters on all the storefronts. It’s impossible not to hear it growing up.” Lanz’s moue didn’t waver. "Oh c'mon, don't tell me you guys don't have propaganda."

            "Ours is a bit more tasteful. 'Study today for the fight tomorrow,' or, 'Do what's fair and eat your share.'"

"What's that one mean?"

"Fidelphi's been going through a food shortage since before the war began, so all our meal portions are regulated by the government. Those in charge are more concerned with enforcing love of country than stirring hatred for the enemy."

“How can you guys be having a food shortage?” Miriam turned to the roasting pig, a thick sliver of melted fat dripped into the fire “One of these things could feed a hundred of you.”

“Tell me about it,” Lanz huffed. “The official excuse is that our population rates are too high, and sure, there are a lot more mouths to feed than in Baltzimar, but that’s just the cover the elite hide behind.” Tinies had a much higher birthrate than their larger counterparts to make up for their lower average life expectancy. As such, even though the countries were roughly the same size geographically, Fidelphi had thirty times the amount of mouths as Baltzimar with the one caveat being that the former’s were a tenth the size. “It doesn’t explain how the top brass can have a banquet every week while a single mother of twelve gets by on stale crumbs alone.”

"So, why did you join the army?” Miriam asked. “Doesn’t sound like it was for 'love of country'?"

Lanz paused and thought carefully on how he wanted to answer the simple question. "I needed a job. The military offered one. That's all." Miriam furrowed her brow, unconvinced by his response. He was too disciplined to be a simple opportunist, but if a sense of duty wasn’t compelling him, then what was he fighting for? “That should be all of it,” Lanz said, dropping the subject as he looked over the diced entrails before him. “We can throw these back into the bucket and start using them tomorrow. We should cover it with a tarp, though. Keeps the smell in check and should stop any animals from getting at it.” Lanz hopped off the palm leaf onto the sand, the large grains coming up past his ankles. Lifting each edge of the leaf into a U-shape, Miriam poured the guts back into the bucket. “It’ll take a few hours before the pig’s done cooking. Let’s wash off, and then I want to check your wound.”

“Sounds good. I could use a bath,” Miriam mused, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll take the farther spring, so you don’t have to walk as far. We can meet back here.” They had found two freshwater springs near the crash site alongside a third a bit farther off. With the closest one set aside for drinking water, the further two, which both emptied into creeks, were used for bathing.

“Don’t you want me accompanying you?” Lanz teased. “Y’know, I’m still your prisoner after all.”

“Fuck off.” She flipped him the bird as she trudged towards the foliage. As he watched her lofty figure saunter into the woods, the gears in the tiny’s brain turned, a mischievous plot hatching in the depths of his twisted mind.

…

            After ten minutes of walking, Miriam reached the far spring. The water was a vibrant blue and crystal clear, an enticing visage to the weary woman. She untied her boots, kicking them off a couple feet from the water’s edge, and placed her rolled up socks inside them. She grabbed her tank top from the bottom and pulled it upward, her sweaty abs scintillating in the sunlight. Dried mud from earlier in the day remained baked into the folds of her six-pack. As she lifted her shirt up past her chest, the tantalizing curvature of underboob further enamored the tiny eyes below her, the woman’s impressive musculature distracting them, for a moment, from their task.

            Miriam tossed her top to the ground next to her boots, and then proceeded to undo her belt. As she slid out of her pants, the tiny eyes wandered up and down her herculean thighs and robust calves before returning to task. She set her holstered M1911 closer to the water, just in case she needed it at a moment’s notice. Finally, Miriam took off her underwear and dipped into the spring. Her body was sweltering from the tropical sun and sitting beside the open fire, but cool freshwater washed the heat away. Reclined against the basin wall, Miriam lost herself to tranquility. For the first time since crashing down, she felt relaxed, all her problems drowned out by the babbling waters of the nearby creek and the calls of animals amongst the trees. She closed her eyes, becoming one with nature, and took her time cleaning the blood and dirt off her skin.

            A half-hour later, she awoke. Shit, she thought, how long have I been here? Lanz is probably waiting for me at the beach. Miriam turned around and found all her belongings missing. Her boots, shirt, pants, and her handgun, all gone without a trace. She pulled herself out of the water and scanned the area. No footprints. No drag marks in the grass. No trace of her clothing. The only thing that remained was a single bootlace, drawn across the grass to read: No Tail. “Bastard.”

            “I’m starting to get why you don’t trust me on my own,” Lanz remarked. With hands resting behind his head, the tiny floated calmy on the spring’s surface, appreciating Miriam’s sopping wet body from afar. He was in his boxer shorts, white and blue striped, a shit-eating grin drawn across his face. “Looks like those nursery rhymes were onto something afterall.”

            All went dark as the tiny's sun was blocked out by Miriam’s hulking frame, the woman lunging towards her enemy floating in the water. Like a heavenly pillar, Miriam's meteoric hand crashed into Lanz's puny body, plunging him into the depths. Pressed against her palm, he saw her fingers curl around him, pushing through the water with unmitigated ease. Lanz grabbed onto the space between her thumb and index finger, the largest opening left available to him, and propelled himself clear of his pursuer's tightening grip.

            Miriam suffered a moment of disorientation upon entering the drink, her eyes quickly readjusting to see underwater. That brief moment was enough for Lanz to escape her sight, using her own body against her as he swam by her arm, her thick bicep and forearm blocking her line of sight. She swept the area in front of her and then turned around to see two legs pulling themselves out of the water.

            "Get back here, lech!" Miriam shouted, exploding onto land. Lanz darted across the small clearing towards the dense foliage surrounding the spring, the giant woman on his trail as she pulled herself out of the spring. In a flat, open field, Lanz would have no chance of outrunning his adversary, and Miriam was hot in pursuit, the both of them all too skilled at sprinting. Fortunately, the jungle proved another story; where precision was more key than speed, trees, roots, shrubbery, and vines all served as hurdles to anyone taller than five inches. Lanz made it into the thicket just as he entered Miriam’s reach, disappearing into a blanket of ivy before Miriam could grab hold of him. "Fuck!"

            Lanz's laughter echoed across the woods, giving the impression he was everywhere at once. Miriam was seething. She kicked through the ivy to no avail. She tore through bushes and banged her fists against trees, sending birds and other small animals scurrying away from her warpath. She grew blinded by rage, unable to tell a rustling branch from a slithering snake, her eyes training on any movement in her vicinity. Lanz taunted her all the while.

            "Over here."

            "Over here."

            "Look over here." 

            "Come and get me."

            “I’m over here.”

            A sudden thought blinked into Miriam’s brain, a lesson she was taught in bootcamp and learned out in the field: a tiny's body was too small for its ego. Sure, they had the advantage when it came to espionage, and made far less noise than a big could hope to, but they weren't silent. Even mice leave a trail.

            Miriam froze, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, attuning herself to the world around her. The discord around her melted away, each noise becoming distinct to her mind’s ear. She sorted through the sounds, blocking out the chirping birds, buzzing flies, and croaking frogs. She noted the boa slithering up the tree, the capuchin picking fruit off a branch, and the pygmy marmoset scampering through the dirt. Each sound was locked away, taken out of focus as she searched for her target.

            There was a slight twang. A twig swaying up and down as if something had just landed on it. Leaves swished as something pushed through them. There was another twang, leaping from one branch to another. Light as a feather and nimble as a rat, Lanz’s footsteps were barely perceptible, she gave him that, but barely perceptible was still perceptible.

            Miriam opened her eyes and crept forward. She avoided the sticks littering the forest floor and inched forward with muted steps. Her gaze did not betray her target, showing no signs as to where her attention was truly focused as she stalked her prey. Like a striking cobra, Miriam jabbed the shrub beside her, wresting Lanz from his hiding spot. He writhed in her clutches, her stiff fingers squeezing the air out of his lungs. “I got you!” she declared, grinning from ear to ear. With her anger soothed, hubris now swelled in its stead.

            “Hey, not bad,” Lanz conceded. “I didn’t thi-” Miriam’s grip tightened, shutting the tiny up.

            “What’d you do with my stuff?” she demanded.

            “Tracking that down is the second part of your training,” Lanz said, coughing between words. Her fingers hadn’t let up much, but there was just enough leeway for him to breathe.

            “Training?”

            “Your hunting skills needed work. Your situational awareness too; you should notice when someone hitches a ride on the back of your boot.”

            So, that’s how he followed me out here so quickly. “You want me to find my clothes on my own? I could do that, but…” Miriam brough Lanz closer to her mouth, her musty breath enveloping the trapped tiny. “All this running around has made me hungry.” She opened her maw wide. It had been over a day since she had last seen a toothbrush, and Lanz became painfully aware of that as he peered into her warm, wet opening.

            “What happened to rather eating a cockroach?” he pleaded. His arms were bound to his sides, preventing him from pushing her away or plugging his nose.

            “Well, you did such a great job reenacting the stories my parents told me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” She shoved Lanz in head first, stuffing him up to his abs into her mouth. Her tongue dragged across his face and chest, tastebuds bristling his body as they passed over it. Though the spring water washed most of it off, the tiny still had a lingering taste of blood glazing his skin. It made him taste surprisingly good, the rich and savory flavor awakening the woman’s predatory instincts long held dormant by epochs of evolution. She nibbled on his shoulders, her monumental molars biting down on his tender muscles. Nightmares that Lanz hadn’t thought about since he was a toddler resurfaced, unsure how far his enemy was willing to go for revenge. Before Lanz could really start panicking, Miriam pulled him out, a trail of spit connected his face to her lower lip. “Now, I’ll ask one last time: what did you do with my stuff?”

            “They’re under the hibiscus bush near the spring.”

            “Thank you.”

            Miriam returned to the clearing, spotting the bright yellow hibiscus near the creek’s edge. She casually flung Lanz backwards into the spring, hurtling the tiny a couple yards into the drink, before checking the flower bush. As he had said, all her stuff was there concealed by the foliage. Her clothes were neatly folded and stacked in a uniform pile, her boots standing on either side. Her pistol sat on top, and right beside it rested Lanz’s miniature clothing, folded in just as neat of a pile. Miriam sighed, unsure if all the effort Lanz put into this was his way of being nice, or if he was simply teasing her.

            Lanz surfaced, spitting out water. He never realized how much he could miss soap, the taint of Miriam’s breath still lingering on his body. As he started for the shore, a darkness encroached him, his sun once again blotted out by a mass of muscles and flesh. Miriam cannonballed into the spring, plunging Lanz into the depths under the weight of her ass. She damn near reached the water’s bed before kicking the ground and propelling herself back to the surface. While she leaned up against the basin wall, Lanz slowly floated to the top, his body aching from the repeated blows. Miriam leaned forward and picked him up, dangling his limp body a foot over the water.

            “Want to check my wound now?” she asked, ignoring all the strain she put him through.

            “Sure,” he sighed. Miriam turned around and hung over the coast’s edge, still submerged from the waist down. She plopped Lanz onto her shoulder as she leaned forward on her forearms, giving the tiny enough leverage to walk upright on her back. Her skin was wet and slippery, but the grooves of her muscular back made for decent footholds as he hiked alongside the stitched cut. Examining the injury was tough, not because of its size or the terrain Lanz stood on, but because he kept getting distracted by the twin peaks of Miriam’s tight glutes peeking out of the water.

            “What’s taking so long?” Miriam asked, glancing over her shoulder.

            “Nothing!” he said blushing, turning his view back to the wound. It was funny, she didn’t take him for the blushing type. “There’s no signs of infection, and the wounds healing nicely. I’d say we can remove the stitches in a couple days.”

            “Sounds good.” Miriam pushed herself up from the coast, standing straight up at the edge of the spring. Lanz’s gentle slope turned into a steep drop, sending him falling back into the freshwater pool. As he surfaced, he noticed Miriam sitting on land, kicking her legs in the water before him. The currents she produced bobbed Lanz from side to side as he waded through them. “Now, its time for your punishment.”

            “I thought you almost eating me was my punishment.”

            “That was for stealing my clothes. I still need to punish you for following me out here in the first place.” Miriam lifted her right foot out of the water. The colossal appendage hung ominously over Lanz, water droplets raining down from her sole onto his head. “Chasing you through the woods got my feet all dirty. And after I got them all clean too. So, you’re going to scrub them clean. Underwater.” Her foot came crashing down, making a seismic splash as she sunk Lanz again. At this rate, he decided it wasn’t worth surfacing again.

            Submerged beneath her overwhelming sole, Lanz rubbed off the dirt sandwiched in the folds of her skin. He kneaded the ball of her foot with his hands, scraping away mud stains with his dexterous fingers. The water not only helped remove the grime from her foot, but it also made it easier for Lanz to maneuver around it. In seconds, he could go from massaging the spaces between her toes to buffering her rotund heel. Never had Lanz expected that he’d use what he learned in specialized underwater mission training to rub a girl’s feet.

            Not one for salons, Miriam was surprised at how much she enjoyed the pedicure. She had thought it up simply as a method of torturing Lanz, but with how well he was doing, she began to worry that he was actually enjoying himself down there. Four minutes had passed, and the tiny was still beneath her, not so much as an air bubble rising to the surface. If she couldn’t feel his small hands attending to her, she’d be convinced that he drowned. Miriam lifted her foot out of the water, Lanz hanging onto her middle and ring toes like monkey bars.

            “You can come up to breathe, you know.”

            “Don’t need to.” Lanz pointed at a scar that circled half of his neck. “I’ve got gills.” Miriam rolled her eyes.

            “So, you’ve had some underwater training, big whoop,” she sneered. “Four minutes is nothing. I was just worried because I figured your lungs hold less air, that’s all.”

            “Then how about a wager? See who can hold their breath the longest,” he suggested, dropping back into the water. Miriam raised a brow. “If I win, I get to spend the rest of the day in your underwear.” Lanz blurted that out without thinking through if that was even a good idea. Miriam was about to drown him underfoot, but then a devious ploy popped into her head.

            “Fine, but if I win, you get to spend it in my boot.”

            “Deal.” Miriam slipped back into the spring, sinking beneath the surface in tandem with Lanz. She stared at him through the water. Lanz curled up in a fetal position, his eyes closed shut. Four minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Neither soldier wavered. Back in basic training, Miriam held the record amongst her class in holding her breath. At the time, five minutes and eighteen seconds was an impressive feat, earning her respect and ire from her peers. But as five minutes passed here and now, Miriam felt the pressure in her lungs. Ten seconds passed, and her head started to hurt. Twenty seconds passed and black borders encompassed her vision. At five minutes and thirty-three seconds, Miriam couldn’t take it anymore and breached.

            It took her a minute to catch her breath, but looking down into the clear blue water, Lanz remained motionless. It was as if his body had turned itself off, drifting lifelessly for seven minutes. Miriam wondered if he could tell he won, that he didn’t need to stay under any longer. In the very back of her mind, she thought to pull him out, afraid he may have already drowned. Eight minutes passed, and the man finally opened his eyes. He rocketed to the surface, gasping for sought-after air. Even through the heavy breathing, Miriam could make out the smug grin he wore.

            “Show off,” she muttered.

            “Eight minutes. That’s my record. I’ve never met anyone that could beat it.”

            “Whatever. Let’s get back to camp. I’m fucking starving.” Miriam plucked Lanz out of the water and stepped back onto land. By this point, her fingertips were extra pruney. She walked over to her clothes and dug through them. “Oh right, it’s time for your prize.” She held up an unwashed, army green, wool sock to the tiny trapped in her grip.

            “Hey! That’s not we agreed on!” he shouted.

            “You said you wanted to be in my underwear. Well, I wear this sock under my boot, so it’s not my fault you weren’t more specific.” Opening up the sock below him, Miriam released hell itself upon the tiny. An odor as foul as a goose’s temper wafted up to his nose, sending a cold sweat running down the back of his neck. At the release of Miriam’s fingers, Lanz fell screaming into the wool prison. She laughed at his puny figure flailing against the fabric, clenching the sock’s rim shut in her hand. The small pores between the sock’s fibers gave Lanz enough air to breath, but it did little to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of his captor’s B.O.

            Miriam kept a tight grip on her sock as she put the rest of her clothes on. She pocketed Lanz’s outfit along with her divorced bootlace and started back towards camp. She swung the sock around as she walked, twirling the tiny in circles like a never-ending carnival ride. If Lanz was capable of getting motion sick, he’d have hurled thrice over.

            As Miriam jaunted through the jungle, her mind wandered. One thing still bothered her. Scars adorned every millimeter of Lanz’s body from the neck down, the pale remains of serrated cuts and bullet holes. But one in particular stood out to the woman. A single pale line, perfectly symmetrical and split along the collar bone, ran down the center of his chest all the way to his groin, dividing his torso in two. That was no battle scar, and Miriam couldn’t fathom a surgical procedure that’d require an incision that long. It had long been obvious that he was hiding something, though every hint seemed to raise more questions than answers. For now, all she could do was continue to perform her duty: keeping the enemy combatant alive and secured as she awaited rescue. As to why that was her duty, she had yet to understand.

            The island drowned in the roar of thunder overhead. Blue streaks of lightning crackled and danced across the grey sky as a torrent of rain poured out from the heavens. Thick rain drops pelted Miriam’s tough skin, sending rushing water coursing through all the contours of her sinewy frame. There was a flat, wide outcrop on the beach a hundred feet from the plane wreck, and Miriam was doing one-arm push-ups on it. Along with the tropical storm bearing down on her, she had one more burden, albeit light, to intensify her routine. Lanz was doing his own one-arm push-ups along her spine, his body moving in conjunction with his foundation’s. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, unlike the moderate climate both soldiers were used to back home. To Miriam, it felt like a machine gun firing rubber bullets against her backside; to Lanz, they were cannon balls.

            It had been a week since they first crashed onto the island, and despite their regular bouts bickering, the two were practically inseparable. Miriam convinced herself that it was to keep an eye on Lanz, that supervising him was integral to completing her mission. Lanz told himself he was taking advantage of her utility as a superior power, and that bonding with her, no matter how rocky a bond it may be, would ultimately serve his purposes best. In truth, they both served as the other’s anchor, keeping them grounded so far out from their familiar. Had they been all alone, the threat of going stir-crazy would be a constant presence. And their bickering gave them a greater purpose, their only reminder of the war waiting for them should they ever be rescued.

            Miriam pushed herself as hard as her bulging muscles could take her. Her bicep, tricep, and deltoid flexed arduously as she lifted herself up and down against the tumultuous storm. Thanks to a high-protein diet of pigs, fish, and fruits, she managed to make some considerable gains, and the abundance of food and freshwater on the island allowed her to keep up her routine without worrying about malnutrition.

            Lanz was in a similar boat. He was used to perfectly calibrated meals provided by his government, meticulously calculated by the nation’s military scientists to deliver the ideal assortment of vitamins and nutrients that’d best maintain his body. Though it wasn’t as healthy as the processed nutrient bricks and vitamin shakes, Lanz’s new diet of game and wild fruit was a welcome change.

            His workout was a tad more severe, having to put up with harsher rain and a shifting floor. Miriam didn’t understand why he didn’t just workout beside or even under her, but Lanz enjoyed the extra challenge; she figured he was just showing off. Though it was faint under the torrential downpour, Lanz could feel Miriam’s body heat exude from her skin and through her soaked tank top. Her grunting overpowered the thunder above.

            Once they had completed their sets, Lanz jumped off Miriam's back and walked to the sand, trudging through the mushy ground until he was a few feet from high tide. Miriam followed, her massive pylons crashing down beside him as the tiny stretched his arms and legs. Looking up, Lanz was belittled by the behemoth stretching beside him, her arms piercing the heavens from where he stood.

            “Race ya?” she teased. Lanz didn't bother responding, beginning his jog without her. The drenched sand proved to be tough terrain, the tiny's legs submerging past his shins into the mud. Miriam watched him trudge along as she stretched. She took her time, wanting to see how far Lanz could get before she put him in his place. It took an entire minute for him to get twenty feet away from her in the lousy weather, and once she tired of giving him the head start, Miriam bounded after the man. Trotting in a brisk jog, the woman rocketed past Lanz, her boot kicking a geyser of wet sand onto him. What went up past Lanz’s shins only covered the arch of Miriam’s boot, and in no time at all, the woman was a dot in the distance. Lanz wiped rain and sand from his face and continued his trek unphased.

            Miriam looked to the horizon as she jogged along the coast. The empty sea and sky had become her adversary in its own right, a pernicious jester teasing her with the tantalizing hope of rescue. Not once this long week had there been any hint of a passing ship or plane, save for the wreckage she and Lanz had been using as shelter. The tempestuous waves and tumultuous winds assured her no one was coming, but her eyes remained trained on the indomitable waters anyway.  

            In all the time it took Miriam to lap the island, the storm had not once let up. Lanz was still trudging along, having not even covered a quarter of the distance Miriam had ran. She sidled up to him, pivoting to face him as he pushed through the sand. Even walking backwards, Miriam still outpaced the jogging tiny.

            “Tired yet?” she smirked, still panting from her workout.

            “A little bit.” The two stopped and caught their breath. The rain wasn't letting up, but it at least cooled their bodies off, washing the sweat off them as they idled on the beach. Miriam bent down and picked up Lanz in her hand like a doll. “I can walk just fine,” he protested.

            “I'm not waiting all day for you to catch up.” She walked towards the crash site, holding Lanz up and steady as she approached their shelter. Her grip was tight around his wet body to ensure he didn't slip out. Lanz offered no resistance, not minding the gesture, or the sturdy embrace of her fingers, as much as he liked to put on.

            Miriam entered the grounded aircraft and set Lanz down on one of the benches. The partially wrecked, metal cylinder was saturated with the rattling sound of the downpour outside. Walking further in, Miriam slipped out of her soaking wet tank top and tossed it onto the floor, revealing the faint, pale scar carved down the center of her chiseled back. Lanz had removed the stitches a couple days prior, the wound nearing full recovery. Miriam sat down on the other side of the corridor and kicked off her boots before removing the rest of her drenched clothing. Miriam quickly grew desensitized to being naked around Lanz. Being so far from civilization and with the tiny not even being a full person, it hardly seemed to matter to her.

            On the other hand, Lanz was far from desensitized, unable to look in the woman’s direction for very long for fear of leering. He was no prude, but he wasn’t all that experienced with the fairer sex either. Though he didn’t mind removing his soggy top and pants, he kept his boxers on in front of her, even though the rain had soaked through them as well.

            “You can take those off if you want,” Miriam offered. “I promise not to laugh at how small it is.”

            “I don’t believe you for a second,” he retorted, taking a quick glance at her before turning away. She couldn’t believe a battle hardened warrior, a trained killer, could get so flustered by a naked woman. She got up and walked over to him, her hulking frame filling up his view. An unyielding muscle mountain stood before him; inches above his eye level was an exposed vulva topped with an unshaven plume.

            “What’s up, lech, afraid to share?” she grinned down at him, her face barely visible behind her protruding pecks. Lanz’s eyes darted across the landscape, unable to focus on any given feature. Between Miriam’s gargantuan thighs, loadbearing hips, rippling abs, hefty bosom, broad shoulders, and meaty biceps, there wasn’t anywhere “safe” he could rest his eyes. Even the woman’s appearance was an overwhelming force.

            “How am I the lech? You’re the one flaunting all you’ve got.”

            “Oh, so it’s my fault you keep gawking at me.” Miriam sat down across from Lanz, crossing her leg over her knee. “I’ll try harder to keep your urges in check then.”

            “Cry me a river,” Lanz grumbled. Miriam was ready to retort, but stopped herself. She pouted and squinted her eyes, her eyelids wavering something fierce. Her face contorted into a disturbing grimace. It wasn’t long before tears burst from her eyes and she was full on weeping. Her whimpering drowned out the rain pattering the metal shelter. Lanz sat there, baffled. The sight of Miriam crying was grotesque, like watching a cow eat ground beef. Once he had enough, Lanz stood on the bench and grabbed his boxers by the waistline. “Alright! I’ll take them off. Just, stop that already!” Lanz did as he said and dropped trou.

            In a blink, Miriam stopped crying and burst into boisterous laughter, her crocodile tears fading against her rain and sweat soaked body. “You actually bought that!” Not even the thunder could overpower the cacophony coming from Miriam’s amusement. She pointed callously at the naked man, mocking his gullibility. Lanz sat back down and flipped her off. “It’s not that bad, all things considered,” she eked out between laughs. “You could probably pleasure my nostril if you tried hard enough.”

            “Where’d you learn to do that? Cry on command like that?” Lanz asked, desperate to change the subject.

            “I wanted to be an actress when I was little. Took classes and everything.” It was Lanz’s turn to crack up. “Fuck off, I’m serious!”

            “Sorry, I’m trying to imagine a role you could get casted as. I’m thinking Villain’s Goon #3.” His dumb joke got a snicker from Miriam.

            “I wasn’t so fit back then, and my hair was longer. I would’ve looked great on the silver screen.” She brushed imaginary hair off her shoulder.

            “So, why’d you quit and become a soldier?” Lanz asked. The crack of thunder echoed outside.

            “You familiar with the name, Irvine Silvers?” she asked with a straight face.

            “As in General Irvine Silvers? He’s your country’s highest ranking officer.”

            “He’s also my father,” she admitted. Lanz already knew this; the private mentioned something to that effect before he died in the crash.

            “Following in your family’s footsteps, huh? Trying to make daddy proud?” His words were laced with vinegar, though Miriam didn’t pick up on it.

            “He would’ve been proud of me no matter what I did,” she responded. “No, it wasn’t pride. It was jealousy.” She placed her feet up on the bench and wrapped her arms around her knees. “All I’d ever hear my whole life is how great he is. He must be the most respected man in the country, and everyone we met couldn’t wait to remind me how lucky I was to have such an honorable man for a father. It grew sickening being surrounded by yes men and bootlickers, even if they were right. I wanted that respect for myself, so I threw away my childish dreams and enlisted. I was to rise up the ranks and become a war hero, just like my father, and give my future kids a nice big shadow to live under.”

            “And how’s that working out for you?”

            “I’m trapped on some rock in the middle of nowhere with you as my only company. How do you think it’s going?”

            “Sounds swell to me,” he mocked.

            “How about you? Do you have family waiting for you?” Lightning swam in the clouds directly above them, sending a deafening thunderclap down to the island.

            “My mom left us when I was a few months old. I can't recall what she looked like. My father, him I remember. I guess by some definition you could say he raised me. I was left on my own most of the time while he toiled away at some shitty job for some shitty boss who didn't pay for shit. Not that it mattered how little he got paid because they may have well delivered the checks straight to the bar. Most of my meals came out of a trash can. I only got to see him when he got home, drunk and bitter. The rare days he got a bonus were my favorites because it meant he'd be too wasted to beat me.”

            “Are those scars from him?” Miriam asked.

            “Some.” Lanz pointed out his old man's handiwork on his body: tears across his ribs from a lashing, a burn mark on the side of his right hand, a bullet hole in the foot, etc.

            “Is he still around?” she asked, afraid of the answer. Her father had never hurt her once, not so much as a slap or spank. Granted, she was the perfect daughter, but even if she misbehaved, the worst punishment she could expect was a grounding.

            “No. He died on my twelfth birthday. Stabbed in the chest.” Another thunderclap roared above them.

            “Were you there?” Miriam noticed his eyes growing hollow as buried memories rose to the surface.

            “I plunged the knife into his heart.” A lightning bolt struck the island, felling a palm tree a hundred feet from camp. “I don't remember the emotions, the thoughts going through my mind. I remember the blood on my arm. I remember the red stains on the shirt I was wearing. I remember the look on his face, an unholy trinity of rage, fear, and disappointment.” Miriam was silent. The storm raged on. “I turned myself in. I figured the detention center would make for better living than at home or on the street. At least there I could get fed, though I did pick up a few more scars. I was there a year and then…” He paused, unsure if he should continue.

            “Then what?”

            “Nothing. Never mind.” With an eerie halt, the storm ceased, filling the plane with unsettling silence. Lanz slid back into his boxers and hopped off the bench before exiting the aircraft. Miriam didn’t follow. Her thoughts lingered on his story, tinted by guilt. She felt stupid for complaining about living in her father’s shadow, for joining the war for such petty reasons. Her reflection was cut short by Lanz calling for her. “Hey, diva! You’ll want to see this.”

            Miriam walked out the door onto the sandy beach. Detritus littered the land, mostly leaves and branches fallen in the storm. Lanz was standing by the coast. Out at sea, one would be warranted in thinking there had been no storm at all. The ocean sat flat and still beneath a blue sky dotted by a few white clouds. In a perfect arch towering over the horizon was a resplendent rainbow. It was an idyllic sight worthy of a postcard. Miriam stood beside Lanz and took in the view.

            “Do you remember your first kill?” he asked. Miriam thought on it, the memories playing out in her mind like a movie.

            “We were marching to an outpost, me and a small platoon. There was an ambush. A tiny jumped from a tree onto the shoulder of the soldier in front of me and shot him straight through the skull. Before the man could collapse, I raised my gun at the tiny. Point blank. I wasn’t even thinking. It all happened so fast. I’d never seen a body explode like that. Once the ambush cleared and we were safe, I threw up.” Miriam paused and swallowed. “Thinking about it now makes me want to throw up. That image, that ‘pop’, still haunts my dreams.”

            “That’s good,” Lanz remarked, his gaze trained on the boundless horizon. “That revulsion you feel, it means you’re still human.” 

~Ten Years Before the Crash~

            “Delta Squad is down! I repeat, Delta Squad is down!”

            “The whole squad!? How!? It’s just one- Aaagh!”

            “Charlie, no! Shit, where’d he- Aagh!”

            “He’s in the vents! He’s in the vents!”

            “No, you idiot! He’s on the gro- Fah!”

            The Baltzimaran base was in complete disarray. Gunfire echoed throughout the halls, and a growing portion of the stronghold reeked of burnt gunpowder and fresh death. The Baltzimaran troops, many of which had recently been pulled from the frontlines to recuperate, scrambled about with guns blazing, attempting to squash out their lone intruder.

            “HQ to Velsaloon. This is HQ. Report your status,” the radio transceiver crackled.

            “Send reinforcements! We have an intruder! Send special forces! We can’t-” The transmission cut out. The military base in Velsaloon, colloquially referred to as “The Crypt,” was a small military outpost built along the rugged cliffside of Baltzimar’s northern coast. Its location deep in the mountains made large scale invasion near impossible, by land or sea forces, but it also made transportation to and from the base inconvenient for anything larger than personal craft, such as helicopters or buggies. The base was primarily used for supplementary cargo storage and holding special interest prisoners, and as such, was usually manned by a small crew of soldiers too battle-weary to remain in active combat. Today, however, was a cruel reminder that horrors of war were never out of reach.

            A Fidelphi soldier had snuck into Velsaloon equipped with naught but an army-grade combat knife and a double action/single action revolver. Typically, tiny infiltrators make the most of their size by avoiding detection at all costs, killing only out of necessity or when success was guaranteed. However, from the moment this soldier entered the base, he went on the warpath, eliminating any hostile he saw while using the environment to his advantage. Crawling through vents, hiding behind machinery, climbing onto shelving units, and using every nook available, he fought each soldier head-on while never entering their sights.

            “This will fucking show him,” Dennis said, heaving a M2 Stinger machine gun to the back of the basement hallway.

            “You think he’s here for the prisoner?” Mac asked, crouched up against the wall behind Dennis as he mounted the gun on the floor.

            “Why else would he come to The Crypt?” It was a short and narrow hallway with only one entrance. The two soldiers were holed up in the back. On the wall to their right was a door leading to a mostly empty yet still cramped closet. “The moment that bugfucker rears his head, I’m gonna pop it like a grape!”

            The two soldiers waited, listening to the death wails of their remaining countrymen. The mercy of fighting tiny enemies was that their kills were almost always instantaneous. Anything less allowed the larger soldiers to retaliate, massively shifting the scales in their favor. Surprise was a tiny’s deadliest weapon, and exposure was their greatest killer. The tiny infiltrator danced through the base, dropping on unsuspecting soldiers from above and slitting their throats, then using the fallen corpses as a cover wall to fire headshots from. His accuracy was clairvoyant, but he had to reload every six shots, a weakness that could have been exploited had his assailants remained alive long enough to notice.

            Dennis and Mac continued waiting, their attention trained on the open doorway before them. Dennis’ finger rested firmly on the trigger, ready to let loose a hailstorm of lead into whatever moved through that door.

            Silence permeated the base. The only sounds the two soldiers heard were their rapid heartbeats and unsteady breaths. The anticipation screwed into their heads like a rusty nail, and there were a few close calls where Dennis almost pulled the trigger at nothing. They stared at the empty doorway for so long they could swear the cement wall beyond it was moving, taunting them to fire at its incessant swaying. Its hypnotizing dance was almost bewildering enough to distract them from the grape-sized head peeking around the doorframe.

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” Dennis squeezed the trigger, sending a wall of deadly fire hurtling through the opening. Mac watched intently to see if Dennis hit his target, but it was impossible to tell through the commotion. Bullets collided with the thick cement walls beyond and surrounding the doorframe, though none had the firing power to pierce all the way through. After a few seconds firing, Dennis let off the trigger.

            “Sixty-three shots fired. Thirty-seven remaining,” the infiltrator muttered from behind the wall. His voice was lifeless. Robotic. There was a dryness to it, as if its speaker wasn’t used to talking.

            Dennis waited a lifetime for another sign of movement. Mac held another ammo belt, ready to feed it the moment his partner finished off the first one. When a dark object flew past the opening, Dennis didn’t hesitate and squeezed the trigger. Whatever it was, it didn’t survive the machine gun’s barrage. As the last round fired off, Mac shoved the next belt in and observed the doorway while his partner prepared the next volley.

            It was a pair of aviator sunglasses. Now, it was only shattered glass scattered across the ground and what little remained of a metal wire frame. The intruder must have grabbed it off a corpse and threw it as a distraction, but what for? Mac stared at the black glass shards intently, puzzled by their purpose. He scanned each one until he saw two beady eyes, no larger than grains of sand staring back at him through the reflection. The realization dawned too late. A revolver barrel as thin as a needle was leaned up against the doorframe, invisible to anyone not looking for it. Its wielder hid comfortably behind cover, using the discarded glass to draw his line of sight.

            By the time Mac thought to warn Dennis, the sound of a firecracker shot off, and the machine gunman was left with a prick of a bullet hole between the eyes. Mac tried to push him away to fire the gun himself, but he froze at the sight of a five-inch soldier standing out in the open, Model 27 revolver pointed straight for his forehead.

            Bang!

            The .0357 magnum bullet penetrated the man’s skull, lodging itself in the brain where the ammo’s infused toxin immediately took effect to shut down the organ. With both soldiers dead, the tiny walked unimpeded into the hallway, reloading his empty chamber. After a brisk jaunt, he peered up beneath the corridor’s only door. It was far too tall for a man his size to open, even if he had the key to unlock it. The soldier pulled out a grappling hook looped around his belt and flung it onto the door's lever knob, latching it into place. Upon confirming the rope was secure, he scaled up the flat, metal surface all the way to the locking mechanism. He wasted no time planting C3 charges around the knob's base, repelling back to the floor, and detonating the miniature explosives. With the handle and lock blown clear off, the five-inch intruder pushed the door open enough to slide through.

            The empty storage closet was originally used for housing janitorial supplies, but once the war began, it was hastily converted into an interrogation chamber for holding Fidelphians of special interest. There was enough room for two bigs to fit comfortably, and plenty of space for the blindfolded tiny strung up on the floor.

            “What's going on?” the tiny man asked. He was a portly fellow, balding and grey, adorned in a maroon suit jacket. “Is someone there?” The infiltrator pulled off the blindfold. The room was dimly lit by a fixture from the hallway, giving the older man a clear enough view of the sixteen-year-old standing before him. “Y-you!? What is the meaning of this? Is this Morrison's doing? I made it expressly clear that it was too soon for field testing.” The boy stood there, unphased. “I can't believe they entrusted my rescue to you.” It was then the old man noticed the revolver in the boy's hand. He was twirling it like a propellor blade with his finger, mimicking a trick he saw in an action movie. ”What are you doing? Untie me already!”

            “Minister of Defense, Perry Baker, 67,” he confirmed. “What have you told them?” His face was as dispassionate as his voice, as if it were carved of steel.

            “Excuse me? We don’t have time for-”

            Bang!

            The smoking barrel pointed straight towards the ceiling. After colliding with the cement surface above, the crumpled bullet fell back beside the shooter. He resumed spinning the gun in his hand. “What have you told them?”

            “Nothing! I told them nothing!”

            Bang!

            The bound man lurched as the bullet pierced his kneecap, tearing a clean hole in his pressed pants. The boy continued twirling the revolver. Baker winced every time the muzzle passed over his face.

            “Four shots. Enough for each remaining extremity.” It wasn’t meant as a threat. It was a simple assessment of the situation, but the boy’s cold calculation sent his target spiraling.

            “I only told them the specs of some of our older weapons and equipment, and the locations of a few bases they already knew about,” he stammered out. “Nothing useful, I swear!”

            Bang!

            “Gahd!” Baker screamed, another knee popped. “Everything! I told them everything about the Gecko Project.” Revolving and revolving, the gun kept spinning. “P-please, don’t kill me. They tortured me, beat me to an inch of my life! They threatened my wife and kids! I had no choice!” The minister showed no bruises, cuts, or injuries, save for the two holes recently made in his legs. There wasn’t so much as a wrinkle in his suit. “You, you can’t kill me! You owe me everything!”

            “Dr. Adam Morrison directed me to deliver a message: ‘Your sacrifice will be a boon to furthering the Gecko Project and the welfare of our nation. I’ll spare no expense in preparing your memorial service.’” Tears and snot streamed across Baker’s face as he lied helplessly against the cold cement floor. Two eyes, lifeless as the corpses strewn about the base, bore holes through Baker’s head even deeper than those in his knees. The politician hated those eyes from the moment he first saw them; they were a mockery of life itself. The revolver’s carousel came to a screeching halt.

            Bang!

…

            “You guys make your hamburgers out of rabbit?” Miriam asked. She was sitting cross-legged on a rock partly submerged beneath high tide, holding a makeshift fishing pole. The pole consisted of a long, whittled-down tree branch, string lined through small metal rings along the branch’s side, and a reel made from a gear and other parts off the wrecked plane.

            “Preferably. A lot of places cheap out and use squirrel meat, though they still bill it as rabbit as if you couldn't taste the difference.” Lanz sat on the edge of her right knee with his own rod. His was a twig with a long thread tied to the tip, useful for catching anchovies, sardines, and not much else. “What do your people use? Dog?”

            “No, cow,” she sneered, as if that much should be obvious.

            “Cow!? You actually eat those behemoths?” Lanz’s focus broke from fishing as he met the gaze of the behemoth he was perched on. The longer they spent on the island, the more often Lanz’s hardened shell broke, much to Miriam’s delight; the tiny’s flustered expressions never ceased to amuse her.

            “They’re not that big. Not to us, anyway.” Miriam pulled in her line and rebaited with a new scrap of pig meat. “It’s not like we’re eating elephants.”

            “What’s an elephant?” Lanz asked. He watched Miriam cast her line, jealous his couldn’t reach even a quarter of the distance.

            “Seriously? You didn’t learn about them in school?”

            “I never graduated middle school, was in prison by that point. Not that I attended much school as a kid anyways.” Lanz waggled his rod, trying to lure in a nearby anchovy. “My knowledge only stretches as far as topics related to war and survival.”

            “Right, sorry.” Miriam reeled her line in increments to simulate moving prey. “Elephants aren’t native to either of our countries. They live in the continents far to the south. They’re huge, like three cows stacked on top of each other and as wide as a bus.” Lanz nearly dropped his pole. He couldn’t fathom a creature of that scale existing, not on land at least. He knew of whales, but those dwelled deep in the ocean. How could something so large support itself, let alone move? “I’ve never seen one myself, but as far I know, people don’t eat them.”

            Lanz’s attention shot back to his pole. He felt a bob in the water and grabbed hold of his line. His pole didn’t have a reel, so the tiny had to pull it in by hand. He gripped the line and pulled it in, giving and taking in a duel with his query. Miriam cheered him on silently, keeping her knee still so her fishing partner didn’t fall off. She could’ve easily grabbed onto the line and yanked the fish out of the water, but the last time she did that left a gaping wound in the puny soldier’s pride, and she wasn’t going through that headache again.

            After a hard-fought battle, Lanz hoisted his catch into the air and wrangled the flailing fish in his arms. “Look at the size of this monster!” The anchovy was nearly twice Lanz’s height, a whopping eight inches. The tiny could barely keep a grip on the slippery leviathan. Miriam was ready to deliver some congratulatory quip when she felt a tug on her line.

            Whatever had snagged onto her hook was ferocious. Miriam lurched back, knocking Lanz off balance as his foundation shook beneath him. The fish put up a tough battle, swerving every which way and threatening to snap Miriam’s rod with every surge of strength. Miriam pulled and reeled, bending her pole farther than it should, and yet it remained stalwart. Once the fish was within range, Miriam flexed hard and hoisted her catch out from its habitat. Her whole body fought alongside her: her back twisted to give her leverage, her legs gripped onto the rock she sat on for stability, her muscles tensed to give the fish no quarter. Lanz was sent falling into the drink, unable to maintain composure with a fish writhing in his arms and a woman writhing beneath his feet. The coastal water was shallow enough for him to stand in, but the proximity to the water made it harder to hold the flailing anchovy. Struggled as it did, Lanz managed to keep his grip on the slippery bugger.

            “You were saying?” Miriam gloated from high above. A two-and-a-half-foot sea bass wriggled in her hand as she dangled it over the tiny. The thing was large enough to eat Lanz whole and have room for seconds.

            “Mine’s bigger. Proportionately.”

…

            Towards the end of the day, the two soldiers had caught a nice haul, plenty to last them the night and the following morning. Miriam ruffled her hair as they walked back to camp, not yet used to how long it was. It had grown a half-inch since their arrival on the island, same as Lanz’s, and now covered the tips of her ears. Lanz had started growing a beard, nothing thick yet, but given time, it’d become befitting of a wild man. Both had developed dark tans, the island sunlight harsh on their once fair skin.

            “I'm going to go for a bath,” Miriam said. “You joining? Or are you afraid of losing again?” In their downtime, the two came up with various games to pass the endless amounts of free time they had to endure. One of which, the pair's favorite, was a race of sorts to get to the far bathing spring. If Lanz reached it without getting captured, he won, but if Miriam got a hold of him before that, she won.

            “I don't know why you're acting all confident. We're tied. For now.” Lanz strapped his knife to his back and holstered his Model 27, a safety measure in case of a wild animal encounter.

            “I'm definitely winning today. I'm so sure I'll give you a minute head start.” Miriam grabbed her M1911 and checked to make sure the magazine was full. 

            “A whole minute? You might as well give up now.” The two stretched their arms and shoulders as they approached the treeline. Miriam got there first, stretching her legs while she waited for the tiny to catch up.

            “What's the wager this time? Same as always?”

            “If I win, I get to spend an hour in your panties. While you're wearing them. Around your waist. And in the front.” Finding loopholes in Lanz’s wager had become a game in itself for Miriam.

            “Anything else you'd like to tag on?” she teased. Lanz concentrated, thinking about his words from every angle. He couldn't discern any cracks in his request, not that he could the times before.

            “Nope, I'm set,” he decided as he sidled up to her. “What do you want, in case you somehow beat me?”

            “Mmmmmmm.” Miriam held her finger to her chin, considering all the possibilities. “If I win, you can be my slave all day tomorrow. Anything I say, you do without question.”

            “Hold up, why do you get a whole day? Mine's only an hour.”

            “Seems like a fair trade to me.” Miriam fanned herself with one hand and placed the other hand on her hip. “Honestly, you should be ecstatic at the thought of serving my every whim. This is a win-win for you.”

            “Fine,” he grumbled. “Deal. It doesn't matter, anyway. Next time you see me, I'll be swimming.” Lanz ran off into the thicket while Miriam stayed behind and counted the passing seconds. She looked down at her waistline and fidgeted with her belt. 

            If I tied them outside my pants, around my belt loops, she thought, I'd still be wearing them around my waist. Heh, that idiot will never learn.

…

            After a minute, Miriam entered the forest. She followed Lanz tracks to a tree, traced a climb path to a branch pointed south, trailed the branch to a vine that led to a bush that connected to a fallen log, and so on. She had grown intimately familiar with his sneaking habits and was able to track his movements through the dense jungle, with or without signs of his presence. The tricky part came was when he’d leave an obvious marker in his path. Was it a ruse to lead her astray, or was he betting on her avoiding the blatant hint? The key was to catch up as quickly as possible, so she could use her senses to locate him.

            One time, early in their contest, Miriam sprinted directly to the spring and waited for him there, believing he’d have to expose himself to reach the water. Instead, he made a detour to swim from downstream into the pool. The creek’s speed of flow was low enough that even a tiny could swim through it, especially one with underwater training, and when submerged to the creek bed, Lanz was indistinguishable from a fish to the watchful soldier. That time, Miriam balled him up in her panties and stuffed them into her boot for an hour.

            Every couple minutes, Miriam would check the back of the boots to make sure he wasn’t hitching a ride. When Lanz was close, it was easy to single out his movements amongst the island’s ambient noise; his quick, bipedal gait was unique, unlike the trotting of pigs, monkeys or other small animals. At a distance, he was imperceptible, as quiet as a slithering snake, so it was imperative to catch up to him. Miriam continued creeping through the woods, following Lanz’s path she deduced through observation. They were almost halfway to the spring, meaning she had to be hot on his trail. Just a bit closer. He was almost in range. Of that, she was sure.

            Bang!

            A firecracker went off a few yards away, just beyond the thicket. Miriam snapped from her concentration and rushed towards the sound, crashing through bushes and hanging vines like they weren’t even there. “Lanz! Lanz, what’s wrong!?”

            Miriam broke through into a small clearing. An eagle lied dead on the ground, a bullet hole directly between the eyes. The wound itself was so small as to be invisible, and it was only knowable from the thin trail of blood eking from it. Miriam scanned the grass. No sign of the tiny, save for a puny revolver lying amongst the blades, reflecting the sun’s glare off its chamber. Miriam looked up at the evening sky. Another eagle soared through the amber air clutching onto a puny soldier with its talons.

            Lanz squirmed within the bird’s unwavering grip. His arms were bound to his sides, making it impossible to grab the knife strapped to his back. In his writhing, Lanz looked down to the ground, his eyes connecting with Miriam’s far below him. The eagle had lifted him fifty feet into the air and was making towards its nest on the island’s large plateau. Lanz had no way of communicating with the other soldier, but their thoughts were as one. Miriam drew her pistol and took aim at the bird, squeezing the trigger in a fraction of a second.

            Click!

            “Shit!” Miriam fumbled with the safety, turning it off and pointing it skyward once more. She didn’t have time to steady her aim. As soon as the bird was in her sights, she fired.

            Bang!

            The bullet whizzed past the bird. A clean miss. But, the shot’s path drew close enough to startle the avian, and in its panic, it released its hold on its prey. Lanz was sent hurtling through the air towards a certain death seventy feet below him.

            Miriam tossed her gun aside and made a mad dash in his direction. She sprinted as fast as her legs could take her, nimbly hurdling over roots and rocks. Thorny pricker bushes hooked into her skin as she barreled through them, their stinging assault unable to hinder her charge. Trigonometry bounced around her head as she sidestepped trees, half-mindedly calculating how long until Lanz hit the ground, and how fast she’d need to get there to intercept. The trees and other foliage thinned out the further she got, giving her less obstacles but giving Lanz less opportunities to break his fall. The tiny held his limbs outstretched as he fell, increasing his air resistance and slowing his descent as much as he could.

            Adrenaline took the reigns on Miriam’s senses. Her body breathed short, slight breaths. The sights and sounds surrounding her blurred into vacant nothing, her one goal the only thing in her peripheral. Her muscles burned, but her will would not give in to fatigue. At long last, she reached the drop point, just as Lanz did.

            Like a wide receiver catching the game winning touchdown, Miriam leapt into the air, stretched her dominant arm towards her target, wrapped her fingers around his body, and pulled him towards her chest as she twisted midair to fall on her back. She slid along the ground, holding Lanz tight against her soft bosom. When the inertia stopped, she looked down at her chest and lifted her hand off the tiny.

            “Are you alright!?” she asked between heavy breaths. The man rose and fell along to her heaving chest.

            “Somehow.” His panting matched hers. “Thank you.”

            “God, don’t scare me like that!” Miriam sat up. She cupped her hand under her breast, allowing Lanz to sit in it as she repositioned herself.

            “You were scared? What for?”

            “You could have died! And then I’d be all,” Miriam stopped herself as thoughts she had been suppressing bubbled up to the surface. Lanz cocked his head, waiting for her to continue, but she wasn’t willing to confront those feelings yet, not through words anyway. “How’d this even happen? It’s not like you to get in a jam like that.” Lanz turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze.

            “Those birds snuck up on me while I was… I got distracted, that’s all.”

            “Distracted? By what?” She could see him blushing. His whole face grew flush red. “Come on, tell me. I just saved your life. It’s the least you could do.”

            “I was daydreaming…” His rapid heartbeat rasped against the pulse in Miriam’s fingers. “…about you.” He took a peek at her face and noticed she too was blushing.

            “Y-yeah? What about?”

            “Well, if I won the bet. I was thinking about what it’d be like to be… Can we change the subject?” The woman stared at him for a while and sighed.

            “I suppose.” Though, she’d like to have heard a few details from this ‘daydream.’ Miriam stood up, carrying Lanz as she walked back to retrieve their guns. With her free hand, she rubbed her upper shoulder, her fingers brushing over the faint scar on her back. “I guess this makes us even.”

            “I recall saving you from two animals that day,” Lanz said with a smirk. “You still owe me one.” Miriam rolled her eyes. She lodged her middle finger and thumb under Lanz’s arms and dangled him before her mouth.

            “Is that so?” Miriam stuck her tongue out and snuck it under his tank top, tasting the tiny man’s abs before withdrawing it to talk again. “Say some animal tries to eat you, but I prevent her from doing so. Surely, that should even us out.” Miriam’s gait slowed as she pulled Lanz’s shirt and sheath off his torso. She brought the tiny closer to her mouth and parted her lips for him. As her tongue pressed and scraped against his muscles, a dense, tropic steam washed over Lanz. During their time on the island, Miriam's breath had become absolutely pungent, foul beyond belief. Every fruit and animal she ate cumulated into an acrid assault on the senses. The rest of her sweat-soaked body fared no better, the lack of soap taking its toll on her hygiene.

            At some point, Lanz stopped finding it repulsive. Numb to its vility, he grew invigorated by the oppressive odor. Primal urges awoke in him, her scent a reminder of their species’ humble origins. Likewise, Miriam grew increasingly in favor of Lanz’s taste. With every animal he hunted, his flavor grew gamier, and with every fruit he cut into, his skin grew sweeter. Add his salty sweat into the mix, and the man was simply divine. If he were any smaller, she would probably swallow him whole, unable to resist his savory essence.

            Miriam continued to lick him as she walked. She initially meant it as a joke, the simple teasing that made her time with Lanz all the more enjoyable, but she couldn’t stop. She was compelled to get as much out of him as she could. What started as simple lapping eventually got the lips involved as she pushed the man partially inside her mouth. Lanz offered no resistance as he entered the damp cave. Saliva clung to his face and bust. Miriam’s plush lips clamped around his pecks and back, only easing their grip to alternate between sucking and licking. Her tongue crawled down his abs, spreading spit into every contour, including his navel. Lanz was glad she was slurping his upper body so that she avoided feeling the throbbing occurring below his belt. Eventually, and to Lanz’s disappointment, Miriam released him. A trail of spit connected him to her mouth as her tongue withdrew back into its den. Goosebumps popped up all over Lanz’s torso as the cooler, outside air brushed against his wet body.

            “So, are we even now?”

            “Definitely.”

…

            After retrieving their guns, Miriam brought Lanz to the bathing spring.  Because of the eagles’ interference, Lanz argued they should call today’s wager a draw, but Miriam was insistent that she technically won.

            “Why don't we compromise?” Miriam suggested, placing Lanz on the ground beside her. “You only have to be my slave for tonight. That sound good?”

            “No way. We both know you wouldn't have caught me if it weren’t for…” While Lanz prattled on, Miriam pulled off her tank top. From his spot at her feet, the tiny watched the black fabric slide up her abdomen, slowly revealing each mound of her six-pack and framing them beneath her incredible underboob. 

            “Were you saying something?” Miriam's breasts dropped once freed from their restraints, and the colossal, bare-chested woman tossed her tank top aside. 

            “Um, I don't remember,” Lanz admitted. Next, Miriam unlaced her boots and kicked them next to her discarded top. Pulling each sock off, she unleashed a maelstrom of rife fumes to which Lanz stoically bore. Then, she undid her belt and lowered her army pants, her sweaty, gargantuan thighs glistening in the evening sun. Watching them fall around her calves, Lanz noted how easy it'd be for him to get lost in the vast fabric of her clothes. Finally, Miriam hooked her thumbs into either side of her panties, gliding them down her sturdy legs. Her bush had grown wild and abundant while stranded on the island. 

            “Well, lech, you gonna strip, or do you just plan on gawking the whole night?”

            “R-right.” Lanz fumbled with his belt, yanking his pants off and throwing them towards Miriam’s pile where she had placed his tank top and weapons. The miniature pants didn’t make it very far, but Miriam caught them out of the air and dropped them off on the pile, having crouched to get a better view of her companion. He reminded her of a doll. Not because of his size, not entirely anyway, but because of his physique. His muscles were perfectly honed: tight, strong, and lean. The contours of his muscles trailed beautifully into one another, leading the eye around his body like art done by a master painter. His pecks strutted out like solid pillows over his rippling abs, and deep lines came up below them in a sharp V. His herculean thighs and claves oozed power and grace, strong enough to carry him anywhere and lean enough to do so nimbly. His face too: chiseled jawline, angular features, soft and full eyes, and thick black hair, still short for the time being. The whole package was unbelievable, superhuman. It was as if he was designed, built only of the finest parts.

            The only blemish was those scars. The pallid marks stood out against his tanned skin. Carvings, gashes, burns, holes, slits, dents, ridges; the man carried the brand of every weapon in a soldier’s arsenal. A couple here and there would be hot, the signs of an exciting life and indomitable will, but Lanz’s excessive scarring told the story of a tortured soul, someone that by all rights shouldn’t be alive.

            “Enjoying the show?” Lanz teased. Miriam blinked in rapid succession, snapping back to reality. He held his thumb tips against his boxer’s inner waistband, sliding them all around the elastic suggestively.

            “J-just take them off already!” she yelled, blushing. It wasn’t that she wanted to see him naked, no. She wanted to get in the water already, and he was holding her up, that was all. She leaned forward, not to get a better look at the goods, but because, uh, it was better for her posture?

            Lanz obliged, slowly lowering his underwear. A gleeful smile drew across his flush red face as the woman stared unflinching. ‘Not bad’ was how she first described his third leg, and it really wasn’t. She hated to admit that, relative to the rest of him, Lanz’s member was larger than any of her exes’. A shame that in actuality it was only a tip’s length longer than her chewed thumbnail. On the other side, his butt was round and firm, his glutes as refined as any other muscle in his body.

            “Happy now?” Lanz asked. Miriam didn’t react, standing up and leaping into the spring, curling up into a cannonball and splashing a wave of water onto the naked tiny. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

            An arm protruded from the water and took hold of the tiny as a mountain of a woman rose out of the spring's shallow depths. The soaking wet fingers squeezed around Lanz's body, the tip of her ring finger clamping down on his cock. Cool water cascaded down Miriam's face and bust as she hung off the grassy coast by her elbows. 

            “First order of business, slave: you are going to clean me. All of me.”

            “But that will take all night,” he whined, wiggling around in her tight grip.

            “Not with my help, it won’t.” Miriam spun in the water so that her back rested against the basin wall. She lifted her left arm, holding Lanz in her right, and stroked him across her forearm and bicep like a bar of soap. His body was sandwiched between palm and muscle, forced to endure against the sinewy brickhouse. And endure he did, scrubbed up and down, spreading water across the whole limb from every angle. Then, she lifted her arm and brought him to the pit.

            The hairs sprouting from her tender flesh were now an inch long, weaving together in a curly thicket. The wet strands entangled Lanz like vines as Miriam rubbed him into her underarm, scraping off built-up sweat and grime with the ridges of his musculature. The incessant grinding of flesh against flesh, combined with the putrid, bittersweet odor culminated under the woman’s arm, numbed the tiny soldier. Within that loss of feeling, the yielding of autonomy, Lanz found comfort he once believed could only be found in the heat of battle. Ecstasy rushed through his veins, and his eyes went blank.

            Miriam shoved Lanz into the water and grated him along her abs. She understood that the tiny’s body did nothing to actually cleanse her, but that didn’t make subjugating him any less fun. Eight minutes, right? she thought. I’ll use you to the last second. Make you scream for air. She felt his erect dick drag along her six-pack, snagging on her navel whenever it passed over, and though it was hard to tell with him submerged, she was sure she felt him kissing her belly. She brought him lower and lower, mashing him face first into her bush. He was so close to her slit he could almost taste it.

            Then, she pulled him away and mushed him against her inner thigh. “Hah! You thought!” Miriam chortled at the groaning released from popping bubbles as they reached the surface. She slid him down her thigh and kneaded his head into the backside of her knee before letting go of him. The brief respite was interrupted by Miriam’s oncoming calf, clenching Lanz between it and her thigh. With four minutes passed, the tiny soldier fought to keep his composure underwater, receiving no help from the woman flexing her bent leg in an effort to squeeze the remaining air out of him. The pressure was as strong as the deep sea’s, pushing Lanz’s body to its limits. After a minute, Miriam let go, stretching out her leg. She expected Lanz to surface immediately, but she watched him through the crystal-clear water swim straight for her crotch. “I respect your tenacity,” Miriam said, slamming her thighs together and trapping the tiny once again, “but you haven’t earned the privilege, slave.”

            She grinded her legs together, forcing out what little air Lanz held onto. He was so close to his goal, blocked off only by the impregnable wall of thighs. A total of six minutes had passed before Miriam released her scissor hold. Lanz shot up to the surface and gasped for breath, but to his shock, Miriam was gone. No longer leaning against the basin, not to either side of Lanz, and not even behind him, there was only one place she could be: below.

            A foot breached the surface to Lanz’s back and pinched his head between the big and index toe. He had no time to pry the appendages off as they pushed down on his shoulders, submerging him once again. Miriam flipped underwater until she was upright again, leaving Lanz near the spring bed caught between her toes. She pressed her feet together, sole to sole with tiny betwixt, and massaged Lanz against the balls and arches. He offered little resistance as both feet rolled over him, kneading him like dough.

            Miriam left him down there for a few minutes before returning to the basin wall and lifting Lanz out of the water, dangling him over the surface with his head between her toes. Lanz’s face poked through the gap beside her big toe, her sole pointed opposite of her. “Need a break?”

            “It’d be nice,” Lanz replied, spitting out a mouthful of water. Miriam reached over to pry him off her foot. Though her palms were rough and her fingers pruney, her hands still felt softer than the rest of her body, and her embrace didn’t feel quite so forceful as she lifted him. Miriam turned around so that her elbows leaned atop dry land and placed Lanz on her upturned shoulder.

            “I want a backrub, slave, but I’ll let you handle that.” Her body leveled out as she rested her chin on her arms, allowing Lanz to freely walk around her mostly exposed back. The wet, rugged surface sprawled out beneath his feet. He knelt towards her spine and rubbed his hands into her rhomboids. Despite his diminutive stature, Lanz effectively kneaded Miriam's back muscles by exerting his strength to the fullest. Miriam unwinded on the coast, enjoying the reprieve and the labor of her doting slave. Her legs kicked idly in the water, keeping her back topside while the tiny continued caressing her. “All of this, it's kind of funny when you think about it.”

            “How do you mean?” Lanz asked, noticing she had dropped her domineering act.

            “You. Me. A man and a woman from opposite sides of a war, stranded together on a tropical island paradise. It sounds like the setup for one of those cheesy romance novels.” 

            “Right,” he grunted, trying to untie a knot in Miriam's lower back. “A beautiful woman falls for a troubled guy with a mysterious past. I think I saw a movie like that once.”

            “I regret reading so many of those as a kid,” she said, wondering if 'beautiful' was directed at her. “They made love seem so much grander than it actually is. Like, I'd be whisked away by my prince charming at first sight, and he'd love me forever and ever, unconditionally. When in reality, it's just been awkward teens, overly sensitive losers, and dumbass pigs with the emotional capacity of a grenade launcher.”

            “Is that so?”

            “You know what I'm talking about. Lame dances. Bad sex. Drinking together until you're barfing on each other.”

            “I've never had any of that.” Lanz moved up to her left shoulder and started rubbing her deltoid.

            “Of course, Mr. Perfect. You've never had a bad date in your life,” she snarked.

            “Yeah, I've never dated.”

            “Come on, that's not true.”

            “It is.”

            “Nothing? Not even a one-night stand?”

            “Nope.”

            “A kiss on the cheek? A walk through the park?”

            “Nada.”

            “You've had sex before, right?” She turned her head and stared at his hot, bare body through the corner of her eye.

            “You're the first woman I've ever seen naked,” he confessed. “Outside of magazines, at least.” Miriam grabbed Lanz and ripped him off her shoulder. She held him before her face, fingers pressed into his side so she could get a full view of his front. Her heavy breath felt oppressive brushing up against his skin. Her lips quivered as if ready to strike. But the scariest part was her eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a woman, nor where they the eyes of a soldier, nor those of a predator staring down its prey. No, they were avaricious black holes, eager to steal that which can never be given back. Lanz stared far into those endless black pits, and a deep-rooted fear welled up inside, a premonition that he wasn't going to survive the night.

            Miriam stuck her tongue out and dragged it across Lanz's entire body, coating him from toe to head in a thin layer of saliva. She pursed her lips and sucked on his chest. It felt like a vacuum trying to tear out his heart, and though he pushed against her indomitable face with his arms, he didn't want it to stop. She gradually inched down his torso, hovering over his abs before reaching the grand prize. Her plush lips, each larger than actual pillows to the tiny man, wrapped around his crotch, fondling his shaft and balls, and sucked.

            Happiness, fear, pleasure, pain, and pure adrenaline all seeped through Lanz's brain and into the rest of his helpless form. Miriam's tongue played with his package as she continued sucking him off. It coursed between the pole and the sack, lapping circles around both as gale forces threatened to tear the whole thing off. All too quickly, Lanz released, spraying hot jizz into her mouth.

            Miriam pulled off him to taste it. It wasn't the quantity she was used to, but the quality more than made up for it. Thanks to a much higher birth rate, tiny semen was much more potent, and with that potency came a stronger flavor. After savoring it for long enough, Miriam tilted her head back and swallowed. Looking down at Lanz, she found him panting heavy, but his body beckoned for more. He may be a novice, but his stamina was inhuman.

            Miriam tossed him to the ground and stepped out of the spring. While he recovered, a long shadow paled over him as the towering form of the female soldier stood above in all her majesty. Water dripped onto him from her sodden body, and she grinned, knowing she was out of reach, knowing she was in control, knowing Lanz's entirety was at the mercy of her whims. She squatted over him, her vulva scintillating at the thought of consuming him. She placed her arms on the ground behind her, stretching her legs forward to sit down. 

            She sat on his crotch, threatening to crush his pelvis beneath the firm weight of her ass. Against the heavenly pressure, the tiny's dick stood straight up between the overwhelming cheeks, nudging at her taint. Her thighs rested over either arm, framing the tiny torso beneath her. Miriam's pussy opened up before him. It was so close, but pinned down, he had no way to reach it. All he could do was smell the arousal pouring out from it. 

            Miriam lowered her hand to her crotch, diving her fingers in and stroking herself. Lanz had no choice but to observe, longing to swap places. After a few good strokes, Miriam pulled her fingers out. They were dripping in her cum. She wiped them against Lanz's face, smearing her juices across him as he licked her pungent digits. What he failed to lap up, she spread across his neck and chest, ready to move on to the main course. 

            Miriam lifted herself off Lanz and sat down just below his feet. Her legs spread out for him, opening heaven’s gates. He started to get up, finally able to claim his prize, but was once again seized by the woman. Her fingers, the first two still tainted by her tangy aroma, wrapped around his waist and legs, reminding him of his place. A slave had no freedom, even when receiving that which they’ve long yearned for.

            Under his captor’s influence, Lanz penetrated Miriam’s vagina, his lubricated head sliding past her labia into the waiting maw. Lengthwise, he was a clean fit, able to hit the G-spot with only his torso buried. But his broad shoulders made for a tight squeeze, blitzing a rush of euphoria through her nerves. To try and slim down, Lanz brought his arms forward and then arched them over his head as if he were diving. The sudden increase in length only pushed Miriam further towards the edge. She released her grip around his legs and wedged the tip of her middle finger along his taint, jamming him deeper from the bottom of his crotch. The pressure on his balls hurt so good.

            Knee deep in pussy, Lanz attacked the walls, groping the sodden flesh and chugging the fluids secreting all over him. To Miriam, having something so nimble and active inside her was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She’s sampled dicks of all sizes from men of varying quality, but they couldn’t compare to an entire man crawling around in there. The massaging, the licking, the prodding from his own erection, Lanz did things no big would ever fathom. He put his small size to good use, pleasuring her and receiving pleasure in return.

            While he writhed and buckled, Lanz felt the numbness overtake him once more. A seizure on the senses as something else took control. His body acted on its own, flailing wildly inside the vagina like a beast trapped in a cage. Miriam damn near exploded, his shin kicking her clit as the rest of him fought against his bounds. The walls constricted him, trying to squeeze out whatever he could offer them. Against the suffocating flesh sealing him in, Lanz felt only one thing: serenity.

            The two climaxed, Lanz’s cum mixing with Miriam’s and making him a mess. Miriam laid back, her vulva gradually relaxing the choke hold it had on its occupant. Once she caught her breath, she pinched one of the feet sticking out from her and pulled it out like a sword from a stone. Lanz dangled there, dazed and drenched, and as Miriam carried him closer, she noticed his hollow, lifeless eyes. Only, this time they were accompanied by a satisfied grin.

            “I think I’m going to need another bath.”

            “Agh! Fuck!”

            Miriam awoke to the shrill sound of Lanz screaming. She was lying naked in the grass, not far from the spring the pair bathed in. Consumed last night by the afterglow, the two didn’t have the will or stamina to make it back to camp, and so fell asleep together where they had made love. Miriam stood up and scanned the area for her tiny partner. Lanz was sitting cross-legged a few feet away from her, gripping onto a narrow rock a little bigger than his torso.

            The rock had a pointed edge, similar to an arrowhead, and Lanz had it jammed into his mouth. “Gah! Motherfucker!”

            “What the hell are you doing?” Miriam asked. Lanz stopped biting for a sec, blood dripping from the roof of his mouth.

            “I’ve got a rotten tooth, and I’m trying to get it out.” He lodged the point back inside, positioning it right at the gumline above the molar.

            “What? You just woke up with a rotten tooth?”

            “I’ve had it for a while, it just now started acting up.” He bit down on the rock. “Agh! Shit! I thought it’d be easier than this!” Miriam crouched over the tiny.

            “Let me help.” She placed her thumb along the side of his face, pinching his jaw between it and the rock point. “On the count of three, I’m going to press down. Got it?” Lanz held the rock steady in his arms, wrapping his legs around the base. “One… Two…” Miriam pushed down, forcing Lanz’s upper jaw into the pointed edge. The rock wedged under the molar’s root and tore it free, slicing the corner of Lanz’s mouth in the process.

            “Gahhhh!” Lanz lurched onto the ground, spitting up blood. The tooth flew out of his mouth and landed on a blade of grass. It was no larger than a grain of sand, and Miriam struggled to pick it up with her cumbersome fingers, resorting to scooping it up in her chewed-up thumbnail. The pebble of a tooth was covered in blood, but it appeared healthy, save for the damage caused by its removal. There was a strange filling in the cap, but no signs of rot anywhere on the tooth. Though, given how small it was, Miriam couldn’t put too much stock in her naked eye’s examination. She tossed the tooth aside and gently rubbed Lanz’s back with her forefinger.

            “You good, soldier?”

            “Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.” Lanz rubbed his jaw, blood spurting from his mouth, and sat up. The pain sucked, but the soothing backrub from Miriam kept it off his mind. “Thanks.” He turned his head and met her gaze, a goofy, blood drenched grin stretching across his face. “For that and last night.” Miriam blushed and looked away.

            “Don’t mention it,” she grumbled. “Seriously, it’s better if we just forget about that.” She withdrew her finger and stood up, walking over to grab her clothes. Lanz’s smile warped into a confused frown.

            “I’m sorry.” Lanz followed after her, catching his clothing as the woman tossed the miniature bundle to him. “Was I not good enough?”

            “No! You were great!” Miriam bit her tongue, upset by how enthusiastic her response was. “I mean, you did fine for your first time. That’s not the issue.” The tiny watched her slip her tank top on, wondering if he’d get to see her naked again tonight. “Look, I enjoyed last night as much as you did, and I’m not opposed to letting off steam again in the future, but that’s all this is, okay?” After they both finished clothing themselves, Miriam bent over and held her hand out for Lanz. The tiny stepped onto her palm and rode it like an elevator to Miriam’s chest level. “I don’t want you getting any funny ideas in your head.”

            It was clear from Lanz’s expression that his head had already been ravaged by “funny ideas.” The normally stoic soldier looked sadder than an abandoned puppy, his head tilted downward as he stared into the creases of her palm. “Got it,” he mumbled. “Let me know when you want to ‘let off steam’ or whatever.”

            “Come on, don’t make this difficult.” Miriam started making for their camp, carrying Lanz as they talked. “You know we can’t be,” Miriam struggled to find the right word, “together.”

            “Why not?”

            “Let’s see: because we’re at war with each other, because we come from very different cultures, because we’re not even the same species. You’ve got to think ahead. Once we’re rescued, we’ll have to leave this all behind. We’ll be enemies again.”

            “And what if we’re never rescued?” Lanz asked. Miriam froze, humoring the thought for the first time. Rescue had always been an inevitability, not a possibility. “Or, what if the war ends before we’re found? We could be together then.”

            “It’s not that simple.” Miriam continued walking, trudging through the forest while her focus remained on the man she held. “No matter what the future holds, we’re still killers at the end of the day. We can’t ignore that. Really, we should hate each other, not, not fall in love.” The tiny sulked in her hand, her words echoing in his ear. He stared into his own hands, judging them for every crime they’ve committed.

            “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Lanz turned his back to her, gazing forward as she continued carrying him to camp. He rubbed his cheek, pushing the skin into the divot left by his missing tooth. Miriam tried to move on, to hold back the bubbling emotions that had been stewing for weeks, brought to a fever pitch since last night, but she couldn’t shift her focus from him. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it. Why didn’t he hate her? Even after bloodying him in the plane, after pinning him beneath her boot, after taking away his autonomy and treating him like an object, he still saved her life on that first day. And why did she not hate him? When she saw him in the eagle’s clutches, when she saw him falling from so high up, why did her heart strain at the thought of losing him? Why now did it pain her to see him sulk in her hands?

            “I need you to be honest with me,” Miriam said. “What am I to you?” Lanz glanced back at her, pondering the question while he pivoted to face her.

            “It’s hard to put into words.” Lanz scratched at his cheek and rubbed at the divot again. “When I’m with you, I feel whole. Like, I’ve finally found a piece of myself I never knew was missing.” He looked back at his hand. His trigger finger twitched, and his eyes went hollow. “I can’t hate you. It wouldn’t be fair. Whatever you’ve done could never compare to the sins I’ve wrought on the world.” Lanz’s pupils quivered, sparks of emotion flickering in the soulless windows. He wanted to reflect the question onto her, but he didn’t have the gall to hear the answer.

            “You and I have lived very different lives, but that guilt is something we both share.” Miriam sighed as she trotted around trees and over their exposed roots. “I never questioned why I fought. I just did. I followed my orders. I killed the enemies in my path, and I suppressed whatever feelings got in the way of that. But now…” Miriam pushed a thick branch away with her arm, nearly snapping the thing in her grip. “…If we do get rescued, I’m not sure I could return to duty.”

            “Be glad you have that choice.” The woman paused, looking down at her partner. “Honestly, I’d rather stay stranded here than go back home. Hell, I’d take becoming your prisoner again over that.”

            “Excuse me, you still are my prisoner,” Miriam quipped. The two smirked at each other, cracking the feeble barrier formed between them.

            At long last, Miriam cleared the forest and stood on the familiar sands. Clear of the trees, the sun shown bright across the endless cerulean. The waves of low tide washed up in the distance, the drapes of an eternally empty horizon. “I’m sorry if what I said earlier offended you. Fuck, I can’t believe I just said that to a tiny.” She scratched at the back of her head, hoping she could formulate the right words before the pause grew awkward. “I figured you’d be hesitant about all this, or at least as confused as I am.” She lifted Lanz until he was at eye level with her. “But, I’m willing to give this a shot if you are.”

            “I’d really like that. Thank you.” The two stared at each other for a while, neither knowing what to say. Lanz couldn’t go anywhere, stuck high up in her palm, and Miriam wasn’t ready to let him go, though she also wasn’t sure what to do with him. “Should we, like, kiss now or something?”

            “P-probably.” Miriam’s eyes darted around. Compared to all the debauchery they got up to the night prior, a simple kiss seemed oddly daunting without the carnal lust to propel them. Miriam lowered Lanz to her mouth and puckered her lips. Lanz leaned in and met them to his, though his peck only covered a fraction of her upper lip. He held his arms behind his back, not entirely sure what to do with them. His still bloodied mouth stained hers, leaving a small red dot at the point of contact. After what felt like an hour, the two pulled back, shaky but satisfied.

            “That’ll get easier with time. I hope.”

            “For sure,” Lanz remarked. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

            “My, you look ravishing this evening. Do you come around here often?” Miriam teased, sitting cross-legged on the beach.

            “Thanks. You, uh, look ravishing too,” Lanz responded. He sat across from the woman on a flat-topped rock, large enough to be used as a table for the two of them.

            “Oh man, we’re off to a rough start.” The coast was awash in the yellow glow of the setting sun. The crashing waves and squawking seabirds provided the soundtrack to the couple’s first improvised dinner date. “You can’t just repeat back what I say and call it a compliment. You have to be genuine. Make a girl feel special. Try again.”

            “Uh, your hair looks nice?”

            “Too cliché. And why did you phrase it as a question?” Miriam leaned her elbow on the “table,” resting her chin in her hand in a sultry manner. “Again.”

            Lanz looked her up and down, fishing for something to compliment. First thing he noticed was her chest, the nipples prodding at her black tank top a pleasant reminder that Miriam never wore a bra, but even someone as inexperienced with women as Lanz knew mentioning her funbags wouldn’t fly. His view shifted left to the bent elbow, Miriam’s thick bicep flexing as she held up her head.

            “I see you’re keeping fit. Have you been working out more lately?”

            “Much better!” Miriam soft clapped for him. “For a second, I was worried you were gonna say something about my tits.” Lanz’s face glowed red as a tomato, eliciting a giggle from his date. “Save those kinds of remarks for the bedroom. They’re more than welcome there, but we want to keep things classy at dinner.” Miriam got up and walked a few feet to the tree line, grabbing two leaves off the ground and returning to the table. She handed Lanz the smaller, mango tree leaf while keeping the larger monstera leaf for herself. "Drinks are on the front, entrées are on the back."

            Lanz studied the menu, deciding which of the imaginary listings sounded most appealing. "What do you recommend?"

            "Definitely the spring water. Salt water will make you delirious, and piss ain't worth the price." Miriam looked over the back of her monstera leaf, reading its veins. "I can't decide: fish or pork?"

            "Pork sounds good. We had fish this morning."

            "Pork it is." The two set their leaves on the table, laying them out like unfolded napkins. Miriam grabbed a canteen from beside her and poured some water into the cap, handing it to Lanz. Then, she stood and walked over to a pile of tarps. Surplus fish, roasted pig, and fallen fruit were wrapped up and stored by the campsite for later use. Miriam unwrapped a half-eaten pig and, using her combat knife, carved off a big chunk of ribs for her and a sliver of chop for her date. Returning to the table, she placed the meat on each of their makeshift plates. "Dinner is served."

            The couple dug in, covering their faces in greasy foodstuff. Under normal circumstances, Miriam would reprimand Lanz's lack of manners as he shoveled pork and water into his gullet, but certain formalities could be overlooked given their situation. Besides, her mouth was too full of chow to say much anyway. 

            "So, tell me about yourself." Miriam said after swallowing, spattering out chewed bits of rib.

            “My name is Lanz Ocel. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m a Master Sergeant in the Fidelphian-”

            “No! No! No! I know all this already. Tell me something interesting about yourself. Nothing military related.” Miriam waited while Lanz grasped for a response. “Think of a hobby, something you do for fun.”

            “I like movies,” he finally said. Miriam’s face lit up.

            “Perfect! You have any favorites in particular?”

            “There’s one I’ve seen at least twenty times. ‘The Man Called Revolver.’ A skilled gunslinger infiltrates a band of outlaws to rat them out to his gang, but in the end, it’s revealed he was actually a government agent double-crossing both sides.”

            “Starring Patric Laine, right?” Miriam asked with glowing eyes. “That one’s a classic. The cinematography’s unreal.”

            “You’ve seen it!?” Lanz almost leapt off the rock. “The acting was stellar, and the shootouts were so thrilling.”

            “That film pioneered so many types of shots and editing techniques, a lot of which are still used today. It revolutionized the genre while also telling a gripping story of camaraderie and betrayal.”

            “And the effects were really good. All the explosions and the blood. It was like the characters were actually getting shot at.”

            “It’s well-paced too. Even on repeat viewings, I’m always on the edge of my seat.”

            “And the best part are the gun tricks.” Lanz unholstered his revolver and spun it with his finger. “I’ve memorized every one.” Lanz subtly flicked his wrist, keeping the rotation going. Then, he tossed his gun once in the air, caught it, and tossed it again under/over his other arm, catching it like juggler would a rubber ball. He held it vertical and horizontal, at his waist and up to his chest. It soared across his body like a helicopter propeller. He flicked the gun backwards, looping it under and around his shoulder and into his waiting hand where it continued spinning. Then he flung it behind his back to the other hand, spun it some more, tossed it again to his right, and slid it seamlessly into his holster. Miriam forgot where she was, mesmerized by the spectacle.

            “You have to show me how to do that!” She pulled out her handgun, emptied the magazine, and started twirling it, but it wobbled off her finger after two rotations.

            “Take it slow,” Lanz advised, walking over to her right arm. Miriam picked up her gun and held it out next to him. “Hook your forefinger through the trigger guard and keep your other fingers straight.” He pushed against her finger until it was bent into place. “You want to keep your hand straight while making the circles. The wobbling comes from moving side to side. Try again.” Miriam tried again at a slower pace, getting through five rotations before her pistol started wobbling. “Keep it straight.” Lanz pushed against her wrist as it drew closer to him, keeping it steadier. The gun straightened out, and in no time, she was spinning it like a real cowboy.

            “Holy shit, I’m doing it!” Lanz stepped back and admired the performance. Feeling confident, Miriam tried to holster it like Lanz did, but dropped the gun as soon as she lowered her arm. “Guess I still need some practice.”

            “You’ll get it,” Lanz assured her. “You’re picking it up faster than I did.”

            “Having a great teacher certainly helps.” Miriam grabbed her gun and holstered it without the flair. “It’s incredible you learned that from watching a movie. I’m surprised you could even see it; I’d think Fidelphi would ban anything produced by bigs.”

            “Normally, that’d be the case. But a doctor I knew was a fanatic for foreign films, and he had enough political sway to import illegal goods like that. He’d let me watch them during downtime.” Lanz walked back to his side of the table and sat down to face his date. “How about you? Got a favorite movie? I might’ve seen it.”

            “I doubt it. ‘April 30th’ doesn’t seem up your alley.”

            “The musical? That’s the one where the spy falls in love with the man she’s ordered to tail.”

            “That’s right!” Miriam leapt up, hands slamming into the rock as she leaned forward. “I idolized Louise Chambell growing up. I’ve memorized the lyrics to all her songs.”

            "You can sing?" Lanz asked. Miriam sat back down, holding her fist to her mouth in a demure attempt to hide her embarrassment.

            "No. I mean, I can, but it's been a while and…" Miriam tried to avoid the gaze of the tiny smiling below her. "You don't expect me to- I'm telling you, I'm too rusty. You could probably sing better than…" Lanz sat quietly, waiting. "I couldn't perform without music, anyway. It'd be terrible. You really don't want to listen…" The tiny soldier didn't waiver. Sweat droplets formed across Miriam’s blaring red cheeks. "Fine! I'll sing! But I warned you." Miriam cleared her throat and closed her eyes, distant words popped into the forefront of her mind.

            "~I think back to the day, when you first said to me~…" Miriam’s voice faltered as she recalled the melody. “…~‘On you, dear, it all looks lovely’~” It was a love ballad from the film, one in which the main character comes to terms with her unsanctioned attraction to the male lead. It was apparent that it had been a few years since Miriam last sang for someone, and her parched throat took its toll on her neglected talent. But as she progressed to the chorus, dormant memories returned alongside her confidence, and the woman shone brighter than the setting sun.

            Her voice snatched Lanz away from the island and into the set of the film: a big city hotel room on a rainy night. Miriam was a young woman with reddish-brown hair in a scarlet dress, inhibiting the form of Ms. Chambell. She sang to Lanz, a framed photograph of the man the spy was sent to tail, resting on the nightstand. A bittersweet melody filled the air, one of unbridled joy swamped in doubt. Miriam made it as far as the bridge before coughing, ending the spell.

            "Sorry," she said between coughs. "Haven't gotten much practice as of late."

            "That was beautiful."

            “You’re just being nice.” Miriam held one hand along the side of her cheek, flapping the other one forward in modest dismissal.

            “I’m serious! You sounded just like the actress. Maybe better!” Granted, it had been over half a decade since Lanz last saw that movie, but to his ear, Miriam may as well been the greatest singer in the world.

            “Thanks. That means a lot.” Miriam held out her hand, beckoning Lanz to climb aboard. “If we ever get off this island, we should go see a movie together.”

            “Absolutely,” Lanz said from her palm. “I’ve never been to a theater before.”

            “You could lounge in my popcorn bucket.” Miriam licked her lips, imagining the tiny coated in butter and salt. “Hell, I could sneak you in and not have to pay for the ticket.”

            “It’s a date, then. But for now, are we having dessert?”

            “See, there’s a problem.” Miriam raised Lanz to eye level. “We don’t have enough dessert for the both of us.”

            “Oh, you can have it, then.” An impish grin sprawled across Miriam’s cheeks, her yellowed teeth reflecting the lingering sunlight.

            “I was hoping you’d say that.” She peeled Lanz’s tank top off like a candy wrapper and forced his head into her mouth. Her tongue, a veritable bed of tissue and tastebuds, dragged across his torso, drenching him in her warm, savory saliva. Her lips clamped around his upper abdomen, squeezing him between the plentiful pillows. Lanz returned the favor, kissing and licking the extensive muscle in the mixed sized couple's equivalent of swapping spit.

            Miriam fell backwards into the sand, mashing Lanz against her slobbering lips. She moved down his body, starting at the head and migrating to his chest, suckling on his shoulders and pecs. Lanz fumbled with his belt in Miriam’s grip and slid out of his pants and underwear. Miriam continued to drift downward, her lips grazing over his abs to reach his crotch. The inch-long erection slipped between her pearly gates, throbbing as the woman tugged at it. She sucked on it for a couple minutes, sending a tidal wave of pleasure cascading through Lanz’s miniature frame. After a few more tugs, she eked out the salty-sweet filling she had been craving, dowsing her tongue in her partner’s jizz.

            Miriam set Lanz down on her thigh, sitting up to remove her tank top. Her naked rack hung tantalizingly over him, supported by her herculean shoulder muscles and perched above the fine grooves of her six-pack. Miriam picked him up and laid down once more, setting the man loose onto her chest.

            “I forgot, there is enough dessert for both of us,” she purred, pointing to her left nipple. “In fact, you’ll have enough for seconds.” Lanz crawled onto her breast. Despite how fit she was, Miriam’s boobs were notably plump, more than enough to fill a large man’s hand and beyond what a tiny could grasp with their entire arm span. Lanz bit into her nipple, grinding his miniscule teeth against the rubbery flesh. Miriam bucked and moaned. She reached down to her belt and tore out of her pants and underwear while Lanz chewed on her. His intensity was perfect: strong enough to fire her nerve endings on all cylinders, yet tender enough to not inflict unpleasant pain.

            “That’s enough,” she groaned. She grabbed his ankles and dragged him down her abs to her groin. “You need to save some room for the rest.” Lanz glided over a wiry forest of black pubes as he was pulled past Miriam’s crotch. She draped him over her glistening pussy, leaving him at eye level with her clit. “Lick right here,” she instructed, pinching her clitoral hood. “Are your orders clear, soldier?”

            “Aye-aye, ma’am.” Lanz wedged himself into position and lapped at her pearl. The tiny tongue sent shivers through Miriam’s whole body. She smashed her thighs together in response to the electrifying stimulus, crushing much of Lanz’s body between the thick walls of muscle. The force was enough to bruise, but if anything, it only spurred Lanz on, further intensifying his efforts as his erection kneaded between the overwhelming thighs. Miriam writhed in the sand while an outpouring of cum drenched her little lover.

            Lanz felt the brick walls relax around him, and Miriam lifted him from her vulva and onto her chest, laying him in the valley of her cleavage.

            “Shit. I don’t think I can go back to guys my size,” Miriam remarked between heavy breaths.

            “Same. Not that I’ve ever been with a woman my height, but there’s no way one could compare.” The two lied together and stared at the stars popping into the encroaching night sky. Miriam caressed Lanz with her finger, tracing the tip of it up and down the center of his torso.

            “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” she asked. Lanz didn’t respond, unsure of how “personal” she intended to get. “How’d you get this scar?” She tapped the center of his chest and traced the long line to his groin. “Sorry, it’s been bugging me for a while.”

            “Heart transplant,” he spat out. “I sustained a critical injury, so doctors carved it out and put a new one in.”

            “You could just say you don’t want to tell me,” she pouted. “You don’t have to lie.”

            “It’s not entirely a lie.” Lanz paused and reflected. Hellish imagery, cold steel and sterile rubber, flashed past his empty eyes. The warmth of Miriam’s chest and finger was the only thing grounding him to reality. “I can’t tell you. I just can’t.”

            “Because it’s classified?”

            “No. I mean, it is, but that’s not why.” Lanz weighed the repercussions. His past hung over his throat like a Sword of Damocles. “You wouldn’t understand.”

            “Not if you keep it all bottled up.” Miriam sat up and cupped her hands beneath her chest, holding Lanz so she could look him in the eye. He wanted the conversation to fizzle out, but he couldn’t refuse the face bearing down on him.

            “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just…” Lanz stared at his hands. A thick malaise overcame him. “You couldn’t know what it’s like to feel uncomfortable in your own skin. It’s only when I’m with you that the aching goes away. I know it’s just pretense, but…” Lanz leaned against the spot beneath her chest, her steady heartbeat offering him some semblance of relief. “…I don’t want to let go of this tranquility. One day, I’ll tell you everything, but, please, let me enjoy this fantasy for a while longer.” Miriam lifted him to her face and planted a kiss on him.

            “You’re right. I don’t really understand, but that’s okay for now. Take your time. I don’t mind indulging you, so long as we address this once you’re ready.”

            “Thanks.” Lanz kissed her back, reveling in the warmth of her embrace. “Can we talk about movies some more?”

            “Of course,” she giggled, thoughts of Lanz’s secrets dancing restlessly in the back of her mind.

            “Honey! I'm home!” Miriam proudly declared as she walked through an imaginary door onto the beach.

            “Get anything good at the supermarket?” Lanz asked. He was sitting on their rock table, perusing a leaf like it was a newspaper.

            “You bet.” Miriam slammed a freshly killed hog onto the table, knocking her tiny lover off into the sand below. Her greasy, black hair was now two inches in length, matching the dark bird's nest covering Lanz's scalp. In addition, Lanz had developed an unruly beard, completing the ‘stranded survivor’ look. “How was work today?”

            “Same old rat race,” Lanz huffed, brushing sand off his backside. A pile of anchovies sat on a tarp over by the campsite. “Though, I might be due a promotion soon.”

            “That's wonderful, dear!” Miriam took a seat and picked up Lanz, setting him on her outstretched thigh. “You deserve a reward for all your hard work. How does a foot rub sound?” She pinched the tiny's bare feet between her thumb and forefinger, massaging the weary soles in her overwhelming grip. “Remind me, how long have we been here? I think our anniversary might be coming up.”

            “88 days, 14 hours, and 36 minutes,” Lanz cited off. 

            “Three months!? That's it? I coulda sworn it's been longer than that.” Her thumbs deftly maneuvered around the puny ball and arch, rolling out any knots with her titanic strength.

            “Time does seem to move slower here. All these aimless hours are a far cry from the tight schedule the military enforced.” The two sat in silence for a moment, basking in each other’s company as Miriam continued to massage Lanz’s feet. She had come to enjoy pampering the tiny almost as much as she enjoyed being doted on by him. Once Miriam was finished, Lanz stood up on her thigh. “Want me to rub yours?”

            “Actually,” Miriam wrapped him gently in her fingers, “there’s something else I’d like you to do for me.” She carried her lover over to their camp set up beside the wrecked plane, setting him down near the crate where they stored their weapons. After handing Lanz his combat knife, she laid down next to him on her back, positioning her arm under her head. A thicket of underarm hair sprouted from her sweaty pit. “Believe it or not, I used to shave fairly regularly. But, we weren’t carrying any razors on the plane, and I’m not comfortable trying to cut around here with a knife. I trust you, though, if you’re up for it.”

            “Sure thing.” Lanz unsheathed his blade and approached the armpit. He was hit by a wave of body odor, a pungent concoction festered over months without deodorant. He wrapped his hand around the long hairs and got to cutting, sliding his blade delicately against Miriam's tender skin. It was more like cutting weeds than slicing through hair, but save for a minor tugging sensation, the tiny's shave was smooth as a razor. His hands and arms grew covered in sweaty grime, but after a few minutes, he finished, leaving only stubble in the underarm's wake. 

            Lanz sheathed his knife and crawled across Miriam’s clavicle to reach the other pit, repeating the process until it too was clean. “Finished. Do you want me to trim down there?” he asked, pointing towards her waist. Miriam raised her head to look at her crotch; an untamed bush lied hidden beneath her army pants.

            “Y’know, I don’t usually shave that area. Would you prefer if I did?” The tiny brought his hand to his chin in a display of deep thought, trying to picture the woman clean shaven.

            “I don’t know. It’s comfortable to lay on after sex, and it fits your image.”

            “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Miriam grabbed the tiny off the ground, causing him to drop his knife in the shock. The woman sat up and held her lover tightly to her face.

            “You have a rugged air to you is all. Nothing wrong with that, just, you’re no debutante.” Lanz felt his binds tighten further, a dreadful smirk curving up Miriam’s cheek.

            “Is that so?” Miriam unbuckled her belt with her free hand and stood up. “Well, if you like it so much, then it’d be cruel of me to deny you your comfort.” She shoved Lanz headfirst down her pants, putting him face to face with her pussy. Her dense pubic hairs brushed up against his torso, entangling his body and covering him in more clammy grime. With his feet sticking out from her waistline, she refastened her belt, trapping her living codpiece within the confines of her pants. “I wonder how long you can last dow-”

            Miriam felt a familiar pleasure run up her spine. Her lover was lapping her clit while massaging the labia with his hands, all while hanging upside down. Over the past three months, Lanz had developed a unique expertise in eliciting euphoric bliss from Miriam. The giant woman collapsed onto her ass and rubbed her crotch, grinding Lanz’s face into her pussy. His deliberate movements regressed into compulsory squirming as his head was dunked inside his partner. He could taste her ejaculate eking out around him, his senses lost in her aroma.

            A part of Miriam, in the far reaches of her mind, wondered if she should ease up on Lanz, give him a chance to breathe. Nah, he can hold his breath until I’m finished.

            Miriam undid her pants and shoved Lanz deeper inside, letting him reach her G-spot. Lanz kept licking the moist vaginal walls while his fists and forearms rubbed against the sensitive area, moving back and forth under Miriam’s powerful influence.  She didn't let up until she was satisfied, drowning Lanz in her orgasm. Between the sand, mud, blood, and ocean water, nothing seemed to stain Lanz as pervasively, and frequently, as Miriam's cum.

…

            “These weird fruits finally look ripe. I think,” Lanz said, standing on a short cactus tree. “You want to try one?”

            Miriam plucked one off its leafy branch, a pink ball of fire tipped with green spines. “It looks more like a dragon’s egg than a fruit.” She cut it in half with her knife. “Woah, it’s white inside!” The fruit had an otherworldly quality: black asteroids adrift in a milky sea, encapsulated in a blazing coral shell. Miriam carved out a couple pieces with her knife and tossed one to Lanz.

            “Hold on. These could be poisonous.” He sniffed the juicy chunk, whiffing the floral, honeyed scent.

            “He doesn’t seem to mind.” Miriam pointed to a monkey a few yards away, noshing on the strange fruit. The simian glanced at the couple and hissed, retreating into the treetops with its meal.  “We can try them together. That'd at least be a romantic way to go out.”

            They looked each other in the eyes and bit in. A subtle sweetness danced on their tongues before vanishing down their throats. The two took another bite. The vague, pear-like taste returned for a moment and disappeared like a phantom.

            “That was underwhelming,” Miriam remarked. “Like a kiwi without any bite.”

            “I like it.” Lanz took another bite, making little progress on the chunk of fruit the size of his head. “It's not too sweet like a lot of fruits are.”

            “Maybe tinies have more sensitive taste buds?” Miriam posited. She scooped out the rest of the fruit and swallowed it, not wanting to waste food. 

            “Maybe.” Lanz spat out the seeds as he ate since they were too big for him to swallow. 

            “I suppose I'll pick some for you.” She plucked two of the fruit off the plant, enough to last him a few days with her help. “I'll stick to the mangoes.”

…

            "Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine," Lanz counted, perched on a sturdy tree branch. He watched Miriam do pull-ups below him. She was aiming to beat the current record, held by Lanz, of forty-three. "Forty."

            Miriam heaved. Her muscles felt like they were going to explode. A deep burning rushed through her upper body, but she was determined to come out victorious. "Forty-one." She clenched her teeth and forced her way through another rep, her skin boiling red. "Forty-two." She looked up at her partner, the tiny now standing on the branch. A lascivious grin etched across his face as he peered down at the woman's cleavage.

            "Don't. You. Dare. Lech!" Miriam eked out, desperately clinging to the tree limb. Lanz didn't heed her plea and leapt down, diving feet first between her tits. With how drenched in sweat Miriam's skin was, Lanz slipped right through the bulbous breasts, coursing down her coarse abdomen until he reached her waistline. He sidled up against her navel, his feet planted on her pants' waistband, and licked the sweat off her abs.

            Miriam winced at the cold touch of the tiny tongue, her muscles struggling to maintain their grip on the branch. Lanz was merciless, licking and rubbing her tummy with reckless abandon, coating his whole body in her perspiration. Despite the critical attack, Miriam held strong and pulled herself up, completing another rep. "Forty-three," Lanz called out from beneath her shirt. "Almost there."

            But the man wasn't going to lose his record so easily. Lanz moseyed around her waist to get to the side of her torso and placed his hands against her side. With lethal dexterity, Lanz flicked his fingers across her skin, striking where Miriam was most ticklish.

            "Fuck!" she cried out, enduring Lanz's onslaught as she lifted herself for the final rep. It was arduous trying to move while ignoring the tiny at her waist. She wanted to swat him away, but she knew the moment she let go of the branch, she wasn't grabbing back on. Miriam persevered, clenching her teeth so hard they hurt and completing the final rep. "Forty-fucking-four!"

            Miriam let go and flopped into the mud below. She yanked Lanz out of her shirt and held him tightly to her peeved face. “C’mon, you know you deserved that,” he said hoarsely, the air squeezed out from his lungs. While Miriam used the sturdy tree branch as her pull-up bar, Lanz always used her index finger, and it was seldom that she ever left his reps undisturbed. Miriam glared at him for a minute before breathing a heavy sigh, a strong gust to the tiny held over her mouth.

            “Fine. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” She dropped Lanz into the mud beside her, too exhausted to move much more. “Beating your score is punishment enough, I suppose.”

…

            “There.” Miriam finished tying the tarp to the other palm tree, forming a hammock between the two trunks. Grabbing Lanz off the ground, she jumped in and let herself sway in the tarp’s pendulation. She lowered her lover into the valley of her cleavage and lounged with him under the tropical, blue sky. “We should have done this way sooner. This beats those benches on the plane every day of the week.”

            The hammock was too exposed to make for suitable sleeping arrangements, particularly at night or in the rain, but it was perfect for a midday nap, even if it did nothing to sooth the permanent sunburn etched into the couple’s skins. As they rested, a brief instance of serenity in a cruel and turbulent world, a random thought popped into Miriam’s wandering mind.

            “Is this what it’s like laying in my underwear?”

            “Kinda, but without all the weight bearing down from on top,” Lanz replied. Miriam removed him off her chest and sat up. She flung him behind her back onto the tarp and laid back down. A mountain of muscles came crashing down on the tiny, grinding him into the blue canvas as she got comfortable again.

            “Like that, you mean?” She couldn’t understand the muffled groans coming from beneath her, but she chose to interpret them as affirmation. Lanz had no way of moving beneath the behemothic woman, and he was only afforded enough air to get by, but he found a deprived comfort in the titanic embrace. In no time, the two lulled into a deep slumber.

…

            “How could you!?” Miriam screamed. Her back was up against a tree, her pistol held tight as she broke the line of fire. “I thought we had something! How could you betray me like this!?”

            “It’s nothing personal, honest.” Lanz stood on the beach, facing the treeline. His revolver spun in his hand, reflecting the light of the crackling campfire not far to his left. Despite the late hour, the island coast was fairly visible beneath the starry sky. “I’m simply following orders. Bang! Bang!”

            Miriam winced. Even with her eyes closed, she could see the bullets whizz past her ears. “Screw your orders! I took you in when no one else would! I bled for you! I was always by your side, day and night! I loved you!”

            “Please, our time together was sweet, like a mint julep on a steamy summer day, but my love for my country stands above all else.” Lanz brushed his hand through his hair to slick it back. “Bang! Bang!” He aimed for the tree, but Miriam remained unscathed on the other side. “Come out, dearie. There’s no need to prolong this any further.”

            “Damn you,” Miriam muttered, tears welling in her eyes.

            “It’s time you flew up to Heaven, my precious canary. Bang! Bang!” Upon the sixth shot, Miriam dove out of cover, aimed her pistol true, and fired.

            “Bang!” She shouted, lifting her handgun in the recoil’s follow through. Lanz clutched his chest, hand over heart, and dropped his revolver to the ground. Taking three steps back, he reached up to the stars, the celestial bodies forever out of grasp.

            “Must the heavens mock me in my final hour? Am I not fit to subsist amongst the stars?” Lanz collapsed into the sand, his arm falling limp beside him. Miriam rushed to her dying lover, kneeling beside him with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Do not cry, my canary.” His eyes squinted, struggling to stay open as they took one last look at their beloved. “I always cherished you.”

            Lanz’s head fell to the sand. Miriam wept over him, pelting the tiny’s body in tears. “What have I done?” she asked, standing up beneath the cosmic sea. “My light has been extinguished. My soul has been severed.” She held her gun up to her temple, holding her straightened finger parallel to the trigger. “What is left for me in this unjust world? Whether it be in the Heavens above or the deepest depths of Hell, I shall join you for eternity, my beloved. Bang!”

            Miriam tossed her gun aside and fell to her knees before collapsing into the sand, burying Lanz beneath her tear-stained cheek. The two laid there motionless for a moment, Lanz’s heartbeat thumping in Miriam’s ear, before both burst into laughter. Miriam got off the tiny and sat up.

            “You were pretty good,” Miriam said, wiping the crocodile tears from her face, “but the line is ‘my precious chickadee,’ not canary.”

            “It is?” Lanz asked, brushing sand out of his hair. “I think canary has a better ring to it.”

            “Well, when they cast us in the remake, you can take that up with the director.” Miriam sat down beside the fire, the tiny Lanz crawling onto her lap. She handed him his still loaded gun to holster, not wanting it to become lost in the grains of sand. The flames burned a brilliant orange against the dark blue backdrop of night. Miriam massaged Lanz with her fingers, rubbing his neck and back as he sat on her cross-legged thigh.

            As they stared at the fire, Miriam snuck a few glances towards the tiny in her lap. It had become a fantasy of hers to star in a movie with Lanz as the leading pair. She had always dreamed of acting, and when she still held hope of getting off the island, her plan was to quit the service and go to school to pursue the dream. Of course, the likelihood of rescue had long dropped to null, and Lanz was nowhere near good enough to land a leading role, and so a fantasy it remained, one her partner had no issue indulging.

            Miriam picked Lanz up and brought him to her lips, enveloping him in a passionate kiss. She could feel his miniscule mouth pecking at her tongue as she sucked face. A thought occurred to her, how simple it’d be to bite down and tear her lover’s face from his skull, to devour the scrumptious flesh from its mantle. Overwhelming authority ran through her veins. The tiny willingly entered the lioness’ maw without fear of retribution. Holding his life in her hands and refusing to take it, the juxtaposition of power and trust, it sent tingles rushing through the couple’s bodies.

            Miriam’s eyes opened just long enough to catch a glimpse of it. In an instant, her whole body froze, like she had fallen into subzero waters. Her fingers loosened, and Lanz dropped to the ground, landing on his feet despite the sudden turn. Miriam sat still and stared off into the distance, leading Lanz to follow her gaze’s trail.

            The ocean was calm. The flat waters were pristine, reflecting the light offered by the moon and stars. For the most part, it looked as it always did: empty. A reminder of the world’s infinitude. But this time, looking out onto the curvature of the planet, something was off, out of place. An object sat at the edge of the world, a collection of shapes both familiar and alien to the deserted couple. The two lovebirds stared at it. For the past three months, the horizon was a still image. Though the sky may change and the waves ebb and flow, the horizon always sat empty. No matter how hard Miriam wished to see a sign of life from across the waters, one never came, and she had lost hope in ever seeing the image change. But now that her wish had came true, her brain struggled to process it, its gears turning to recognize what was deemed impossible.

            Along the edge of the horizon, in the calm, black waters, a boat sailed beneath the stars.

            Miriam made a mad dash for the campsite, scrounging through a crate to grab a flare gun. The boat sailed idly in the distance. It was unclear if whoever was on it saw the fire on the beach, but a flare shot into the night sky would be visible for miles. Miriam finally found the gun and pointed it skyward, holding her other hand over her ear.

            "Wait! Don't do it!" Lanz shouted as he caught up. He stopped her just before she could pull the trigger.

            "What are you saying? This is our chance. This could be our only chance." There was a desperate look in Miriam's eye, a yearning to return home. Her finger trembled against the trigger.

            "Look at that ship. Take a good look at it." Miriam did as requested, staring out into the sea. The boat flew no colors. Its hull was black and sharp-angled. It was only the size of a cruiser, able to hold ten or so men. No, not men. Tinies.

            The ship wasn't as far away as initially thought; it was simply small enough to give the impression that it was many miles further out than it actually was. While the vessel likely had enough space to carry an additional tiny, there was no chance of it ever sailing a big to shore. Miriam lowered the flare gun, any hope of rescue dashed.

            "That's a Fidelphian stealth cruiser," Lanz explained. "A prototype. They're probably out here on a field test." He started walking away from the campsite. "It's probably too late, but we'll have to put the fire out. They'll kill you on sight. Our people don't have the luxury of taking prisoners." Holding Baltzimarans captive proved too costly for the tiny nation, the bigs taking up more space and requiring more resources than they were worth. In contrast, Baltzimar took in Fidelphi prisoners by the truckload. A regular sized prison could comfortably hold ten thousand tiny inmates, and they required a mere fraction of the food and water that bigs needed. Tiny POWs were used as cheap labor for the war effort, jobs such as operating assembly lines, cleaning equipment, and packaging a wide array of small goods. They also made for valuable bargaining chips on the negotiating table. 

            "Hold on," Miriam interjected. "Maybe we should signal them. I can hide, and you can tell them all of us bigs died in the crash, that you were the only survivor." Lanz stopped in his tracks and turned to her. "I'll still be stuck here, but at least you'd be able to leave."

            "No way. I'm not leaving here without you." Lanz circled back towards the fire.

            "But it's not fair for me to keep you here. This could be your only chance to go home."

            "Miriam, there's nothing waiting for me on the other side of the water." Lanz stopped again, realizing he had no way of putting out the fire at his size. "I have no family, no home, nothing to return to. The only thing I have in that country is the promise of more violence. Either I leave this island with you, or I stay here until I die." Miriam walked over to him and crouched down, brushing his cheek with her finger.

            "If you’re sure," she said with a warm smirk. "Let's get this fire out. We can figure the rest out-"

            Boom!

            Miriam was interrupted by a sudden explosion. The tiny boat erupted in flames, sending shockwaves across the water. A pair of geysers shot up alongside the exploding ship. The hull cracked in half, unleashing an inferno across the deck and cabin. The couple stood stunned on the beach, an orange glow reflecting off of them.

            A cold steel monolith, the massive battleship's tower peeked over from beyond the horizon as the vessel approached its quarry. It was a considerable ship, large enough to hold an army and making the Fidelphian craft beneath it look like a bath toy. It hoisted the Baltzimaran flag, clearly visible underneath the moonlight. Painted on the side in bold, white letters was: "S.S. MILLWALKER". 

            Miriam pointed the flare skyward, looking down to Lanz before firing it. He gave her a solemn nod, and the flare soared through the air, leaving a brilliant orange trail against the deep blue hue of midnight. 

            "Sorry about your comrades," Miriam said.

            "Me too." The flames from the stealth craft reflected off Lanz's hollow eyes. After a couple minutes, a return flare shot out from the battleship’s deck: message received.

            "Go grab your knife. I'll clean up any evidence that you survived."

            "Are you going to be okay?" Lanz asked. "Your orders were to take me in alive."

            "These were extraordinary circumstances. They'll understand." The battleship halted, preparing a dinghy to sail ashore. "Let's hurry."

…

            "All set?" Miriam asked. Lanz walked out of the plane in his white uniform coat. It was still mostly clean, having not been worn since the day they crashed. His combat knife sat straddled to his back and his revolver remained holstered by the waist. "The safest place to stow you is going to be on my person. My tank top’s too thin, they'll spot you immediately, so your options are either in one of my boots or in my panties."

            "Panties," he decided with zero hesitation. Miriam rolled her eyes.

            "Right. Don't know why I bothered giving you a choice." She unbuckled her belt and picked her partner up, holding him over her butt as she tugged at the waistband.

            "Wait, you're putting me back here!?"

            "You expect me to focus with you squirming around up front? It's either my butt or the boot, your choice." Lanz peered down at the chasm waiting below. Though not his first choice, the perky mounds grew more welcoming the longer he gawked at them.

            "Fine," he conceded. Miriam dropped him into her panties and released the elastic, wedging Lanz into her crack. She fastened her belt and adjusted her pants so that Lanz was snug and invisible from the outside. Between her thick, tight glutes, the tiny man couldn't move much beyond his hands. He brushed his right hand against Miriam's puckered rim and, out of innocent curiosity, poked his fingers through the hole, causing the woman's entire body to grow tense.   "Don't do that!" She snarled, resisting the carnal urge to shove his whole body up her ass. Part of her regretted not tossing him into her boot, though she suspected he’d be just as distracting down there. "Stay still if you want to live. Once we’re safe, then we’ll indulge all we want."

            Miriam stoically watched two soldiers drive a motorboat to the shore. They were adorned in fatigues and armed with assault rifles, handguns, and knives. The two leapt off the boat and marched up to the woman waiting for them.

            “Corporal Silvers? So, you actually survived.” One soldier greeted her with a snarky grin, the other scanned her and the surroundings as if looking for something. “How about the rest of your squad?”

            “All dead,” Miriam replied. She tried not to pay the other soldier any mind. Lanz could feel her sweat pouring onto him, but he remained perfectly still.

            “And the special cargo you were carrying?” the inquisitive soldier asked.

            “Special…” He must mean Lanz. “There’s a pit a little ways behind that boulder I was using as a toilet. If you dig deep enough, you might find a couple of his bones left.” The two soldiers glanced at each other and shrugged.

            “We’ll take your word for it. You can stay in the boat. We’ll go through the wreckage and recover whatever’s salvageable.” Miriam did as she was told and waited in the boat as the soldiers scrounged through the campsite, retrieving weapons and the like. With the woman sitting on the boat’s wooden bench, Lanz was smushed up against the inside of her crack. She tried repositioning herself to make him more comfortable, but the gesture just mashed him further into her skin.

            “Sorry,” she whispered. “I probably shoulda put you in my boot.”

            “No,” Lanz grunted, “this is fine.” The soldiers returned and loaded the boat before shoving off. The boat rocked as it took off into the water, sending its passengers bounding up and down and further hammering the tiny stuck in Miriam’s pants. Absolutely fine.

…

            Upon boarding the S.S. Millwalker, Miriam was escorted to the bridge where the captain and a few other officers were stationed. The captain was in his early forties, his brown hair neatly trimmed and his burly frame packed tightly in his naval uniform. He stood half a foot taller than Miriam, though he was currently sitting. Despite having just annihilated an enemy vessel, the man look overly relaxed, one leg resting casually over the other knee as he leaned back in his chair. Upon Miriam’s entrance, he stood up and sauntered over to her.

            “And so, the prodigal daughter returns,” the captain goaded, slow clapping as he approached. Miriam stood firm and saluted her superior officer. “General Silvers has been worried sick. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to learn you’re alive.” The captain eyed her up and down, appreciating every curve and sinew bleeding through her thin, sweat-soaked tank top. Miriam’s eyes were trained forward, her hand locked in salute. “I can see why.” The captain circled around her, savoring the eye candy. His hand reached out and glided over her ass cheek before giving it a firm squeeze. Miriam flinched, but she retained her pose. “All that time alone,” the captain whispered into her ear as he fondled her rump, “you must be weary. Why don’t you rest up in my quarters?”

            The other soldiers in the bridge looked the other way, all too familiar with the captain’s habit for greeting female officers. Lanz could feel the walls of flesh cave to the giant hand’s immense influence, forcing him to nudge as deep into Miriam as possible, lest he fall out of his nook. The captain’s hand inched ever closer to the tiny’s hiding spot as it squeezed, hoping to finger Miriam’s sensitive spots. Lanz cocked his gun’s hammer, his finger held taught against the trigger; it took every ounce of his willpower not to unload all his ammo into the giant man.

            “Sorry, sir, but I’m tired, and I’d prefer to sleep in my own bed. Alone,” Miriam said, trying to ignore the man’s uncomfortable grip.

            “Now, now. Don’t be like that, corporal.” His tone stung the ears like bleach on an open wound. “It would be rude of the captain to leave a guest unattended. Even ruder if I had to order you to comply.”

            Miriam felt the captain’s grip loosen as he approached her crack, knowing full well where his sights lied. She had to act fast; she couldn’t let him discover Lanz, and, most of all, she was sick of this pervert having his way with her ass. In one smooth motion, Miriam turned around, broke from her salute, grabbed the captain’s first two fingers, and bent them straight backwards. A loud crack echoed through the bridge.

            “Augh!” The captain recoiled and screamed, clutching his broken fingers. “In- insubordinate!” Miriam brought her forearm beneath his chin and pinned his neck to the wall, nearly shattering his windpipe.

            “Listen up, ‘sir,’ and listen good,” Miriam scowled. The other officers stared at her wide eyed, too shocked to properly react. The armed soldiers raised their guns, but they wouldn't shoot one of their own without a command from their superiors. “You know who I am?”

            “This is… This is treason!” the captain choked. Miriam flexed her arm and pinned harder.

            “Say my name! I won’t repeat myself again.”

            “Corp. Miriam Silvers.” The captain grabbed her elbow with his working hand to pry her off, but she didn’t budge.

            “Good. Now, say my father’s name.” A hint of fear twinkled in his eyes.

            “General Irvine Silvers,” he said shakily.

            “Very good.” A hellish smile drew across her face. “Now, how do you think our nation’s highest-ranking officer is going to react when he learns you pulled rank to grope his daughter’s ass?” The captain didn’t respond. His eyes darted around the room to his subordinates, but they were all too scared of the feral Miss Silvers to do anything about her. The officers in the room all either knew Irvine personally or were intimately familiar with the stories surrounding the living legend, and no one wanted to be responsible for putting down his daughter. “You know what happened the last time an officer crossed him? Poor guy was transferred to the frontlines, equipped with nothing but a peashooter and his boxer shorts. Oh, you’d be lucky to get off so easy.”

            “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” the captain pleaded, tears welling in his eyes.

            “I just spent three months by myself trapped on a deserted fucking island. The last thing I want is some scum-sucking douche nozzle feeling me up, thinking he has the right to sleep with me because no one else has the balls to put the worm in his place. Now, I’m going to find an actual, goddamn bed to sleep in while you steer this ship home. Do I make myself clear?” The captain whimpered something unintelligible, his face turning purple. Miriam let him go and made for the door.

            “You, show me to my quarters.” She pointed to one of the soldiers who had escorted her. The man looked at her and back to the captain. The captain, hunched over and gasping for air, waved his hand at him, signaling to oblige whatever she demanded. He nodded and exited the bridge, leading Miriam to a private quarter for special guests.

…

            The room was cramped and inelegant, hosting a bed, toilet, sink, and mirror. It looked more like a prison cell than special lodgings, but for the woman who had spent three months sleeping in a wrecked cargo plane, it may as well have been a luxury suite. Miriam closed the heavy, steel door behind her and made for the bed, pulling her companion out from his hidey hole before sitting down. 

            "Wait here for me. I'm going to go slit that fucker's throat," Lanz said from within Miriam's grip.

            "As much as I'd love that, we can't bring that sort of attention to ourselves." Miriam lied down on the bed, amazed by how soft the stiff mattress was. She set Lanz down beside her, happy to see him laying next to her. “Just stay here and keep me company until we’re home.” They stared into each other's eyes for a while, reveling in the tender silence, knowing it could never last long enough.

…

            Sixteen hours later, the S.S. Millwalker landed in Baltzimar, docking in the bustling port city of Debutrois as ordered over radio by General Silvers. It was overcast that late afternoon, the grey skies providing a blank backdrop for the city’s red brick buildings. The metropolitan covered over a hundred blocks with modest skyscrapers gathered further inland; the city led into a hilly region covered in emerald green grass and lush pines. 

            Once the ship was ready to disembark, Miriam stepped down the offramp onto the naval base's cement dock where a tall man in a sharp, highly decorated, black uniform stood in wait.

            "Dad!" Miriam shouted, running towards her father and tackling him in a hug. 

            "Miriam! I'm so glad you're safe." Irvine was nothing if not imposing, standing at 6'7" with a hulking frame that nearly put his daughter’s musculature to shame. His crew cut was a healthy mix of grey and white, and his thick eyebrows demanded respect from any subordinate they faced. But his traditionally stern expression was absent as he embraced his long-lost daughter. "Are you alright? Have you been eating? We can stop somewhere if-"

            "Dad, I'm fine." She struggled to push the clingy man off her. "Thanks, but all I need right now is a hot shower." While the other crewmen disembarked, the ship's captain scurried over to salute the general.

            “It’s good to see you, sir!” he shouted, bandaged hand held taut before his temple. “Your daughter was exemplary aboard the Millwalker, sir!”

            “Of course she was,” The stern expression returned in full force. “Stop wasting your breath on crap I already know and hand me your report, soldier.” The captain gave Irvine a manilla folder holding neatly printed documents. “At ease. Be on your way now.” The captain shot Miriam a pleading look to which she promptly ignored, turning away to head toward the naval base’s parking lot. Her father led her to a shiny black Cadillac with tinted, bulletproof windows. As she opened the passenger door, Miriam glanced around the parking lot, overcome with the icy sensation of being watched.

            “Everything alright?” her father asked. Miriam looked around, but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

            “Sorry. Being in the wild for so long still has me on edge, I guess.” She got into the car and closed the door, unaware of the tiny eyes trained on her since the moment she stepped on dry land.

            Irvine revved up the engine, sending vibrations throughout the vehicle. The Cadillac's leather seats were a far cry comfier than the dinghy's wooden bench, but it was hard for Lanz to appreciate that smashed beneath the weight of his lover. Miriam again tried to reposition herself, though she had to be subtle about squirming with her father sitting next to her.

            “Your mother is out in Cleftland, visiting your aunt,” Irvine said as he pulled out into the street. “She's flying over here now. Should be back sometime this evening.” They drove through the city, passing by restaurants, businesses, and pedestrians. Aside from recruitment posters, there were no visible signs these people had been living through fifteen years of war. Miriam watched the passersby aimlessly through the window. It was surreal seeing people her own size living comfortable lives with no need to hunt for food, like watching a film dubbed in a language she only vaguely remembered how to speak.

            Irvine navigated through the city blocks, heading towards the hills in the distance. Delano’s Way ran through the outskirts of Debutrois, a secluded road dotted by illustrious mansions where many of Baltzimar’s elite called home, including the Silvers.

            The vibrations rising through the car seat reverberated in Miriam’s cheeks. Lanz found it difficult to concentrate while getting a full-body massage beneath his lover. The all-encompassing embrace combined with the drive’s steady resonance elicited from Lanz an invigorating buzz. Is that his knife prodding me or… Miriam thought. She kept staring out the window, trying to focus on reality, reminding herself that Lanz could not be discovered by anyone at any cost, but fantasies erupted in her mind, visions of a tiny soldier scratching the itch he was giving her.

            “Dad, can you stop somewhere? I have to use the restroom.” Miriam felt a small hand tapping on her butt. Lanz was losing himself to similar fantasies, and though remaining in the trance would be nice, he needed Miriam to get out of the car and touch base with him.

            “Of course.” Irvine pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road in front of a bar. “Take all the time you need. I’ll stay here and keep the car warm.”

            Miriam got out of the Cadillac and walked into the bar, resisting every urge to rub the tiny man into her ass. The bar only had a few patrons at the moment, none of which seemed to mind the woman skipping to the corner of the building were the restroom resided. It was no larger than a broom closet, the sink sitting a foot apart from the toilet. Penciled graffiti covered the tiled wall. There was a small window just below the ceiling leading to the bar’s backlot. Miriam locked the door, lowered the toilet lid, freed Lanz from her pants, and sat down.

            “What’s the plan?” Miriam asked, holding Lanz by the waist. “I can hide you in my room once we get home, but what do we do from there?”

            “No. I think it’s best we split up here.” Panic drew across Miriam’s face as she deciphered his intent. “Just as a temporary measure,” he reassured her. “I can’t stay in this country, so I’ll go and find a way out for both of us.”

            “Will you be okay all by yourself?”

            “No doubt.” He flashed her a thumbs up. “Don’t tell anyone, but we have spy networks in every major Baltzimaran city. I’ll find one of our caches to lay low in. From there, I’ll determine the best course of escape. We have smuggling routes set up for getting bigs out of the country, whether that’s kidnapping special individuals or escorting deserters. There’s got to be a way to get to one of the neutral countries up north. We can be together there. No hiding. No running. We’ll be free to live a real life together.”

            “Alright, I believe in you. How should we stay in touch?”

            “Let’s meet back here tomorrow at 14:00 hours. We’ll proceed from there.”

            “Sounds good.” Miriam pulled Lanz in and kissed him. The two locked lips for a full minute before finally letting go. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

            “You killed me, remember? With no one looking for me, this’ll be my easiest assignment yet.” Miriam raised Lanz to the windowsill, nodding goodbye as he disappeared under the open hatch.

            Lanz surveyed the backlot, sidling against the corner of a dumpster. There were two massive cars parked and a pack of rats nibbling on a discarded pizza slice, but no signs of the enemy. Lanz darted to a sewer grate at the edge of the lot, scanning his surroundings before delving in. He hopped down the rungs of a ladder built into the concrete wall and landed on a walkway just wide enough for a giant maintenance worker to use.

            It was dark, dank, and lonely; the steady dribble of streaming water and the pitter patter of urban rodents were the tiny’s only noticeable company. Lanz made his way through the concrete labyrinth, zigging and zagging through the winding sewer path. He had no destination in mind as he trailed the dark corridors, simply seeking seclusion from the bigs above. Once he was satisfied, Lanz stopped in his tracks.

            “Coast’s clear. You can come out now.” At Lanz’s behest, a man in a beige trench coat stepped out from the shadows behind him. Slicked back hair and a pencil thin moustache adorned the five-inch-tall creeper.

            “So, you finally decided to arrive, Gecko,” the shady man sneered.

            “Kept you waiting, huh?” Lanz turned to face the other tiny. His eyes went hollow upon seeing the man’s murine face. “Special Agent, Pierre Pillon, 33, Handler.”

            “Three months! I was starting to think you had died.”

            “Come on, you should have more faith in me,” Lanz shrugged. His jovial expression betrayed his blank stare.

            “Your absence has put the mission in jeopardy. If we don’t act soon, the enemy will be all set to win this war.” Pierre grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, but stopped himself, remembering he shouldn’t light a fire in a sewer.

            “Please, the mission’s progressing smoothly. I’ve got everything handled.” Lanz pulled out his revolver and casually spun it.

            “How do you figure?”

            “Because I have an in with the General’s daughter. She trusts me completely.” 

            Miriam walked out onto the sidewalk. She felt the first few raindrops hit her head and sat down in the Cadillac’s passenger seat before she could become drenched. Irvine was skimming through documents in a manilla folder, tucking them away upon his daughter’s return.

            “All set?” the general asked. Miriam nodded, and they were off. For the first time in three months, Miriam felt isolated. Alone. Looking out at the pedestrians littering the city sidewalks, to her they all felt so distant. “Is what the report said true? You killed the prisoner you were transporting?”

            It took a second for her to respond. “Yes. I didn’t have a choice.”

            “That’s a shame,” Irvine sighed.

            “Why’s that?” Miriam shot him a puzzled look. It seemed like forever ago, but she recalled the day she met Lanz. Her squad was tasked with escorting him to the military base at Fort McKinley’s, though the flight route they took was kept secret from all but the pilot. Little information was given about Lanz himself besides his name and rank, but the orders were clear: bring him in alive.

            The Cadillac stopped, waiting at a red light. Irvine checked his mirrors, glanced around the car and out the windows. “What do you know about Lanz Ocel?”

            He’s a Fidelphian soldier. Master Sergeant. He has black hair and green eyes. He’s twenty-six years old. He’s 5.2 inches tall. There are scars all over his body from every weapon imaginable. He’s as handsome as they come with a butt that won’t quit. His favorite movie is ‘The Man Called Revolver’. He doesn’t snore, but sometimes he mumbles in his sleep. He can hold his breath underwater for eight minutes. I’m the first, only, woman he’s ever slept with. He’s an expert on guns and survival tactics. His aim is unparalleled, and he has a habit of spinning his revolver like he’s in an action film. He’s competitive and too cocky for his own good. He’s also gullible. He killed his father when he was twelve years old. His favorite food is cheeseburgers, but they’re made out of rabbit or squirrel where he’s from. He’s kind of a pervert, but I love him and trust him with my life. “Not much.”

            “I wouldn’t think so.” The light turned green, and the car slowly pulled forward through the intersection. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this car. Do you understand?” Miriam nodded. “I mean it. Everything I’m about to divulge is above even the president’s clearance level. I’m only telling you because you’re my daughter and after what you went through, you have the right to know why were thrown into such perilous circumstances.” Rain pelted the windshield, blurring the city of Debutrois into a grey miasma.

            “About ten years ago, we received intel on a top-secret program Fidelphi was operating that would tip the scales in their favor. In a total disregard of ethics, their leading scientists experimented on the genome of living tinies for the purpose of creating the ideal warrior. Lanz is the result of those experiments.” Miriam stared intently at her father, giving him her full attention. “He’s a living weapon, a mockery to God’s good name. Officially, he’s a Master Sergeant in the Fidelphi army who joined at a young age after graduating from a special training program. In truth, he is a Genetically Engineered Killing Organism, or Gecko as the tinies refer to him.” The people outside ran on the sidewalks, holding newspapers and briefcases over their heads as they dashed to shelter. The thunder could barely be heard beneath the roaring downpour.

            “They nabbed him when he was thirteen and still undergoing puberty. I don’t know what his circumstances were, but he had a unique predisposition for violence and a high tolerance for pain. He underwent extensive surgery in which they rewrote his entire genome, replacing unwanted traits with more desirable qualities. They carved him up like a Feastday turkey to replace each of his organs with superior specimens. They went so far as to alter his facial structure and remove any scarring above the neck, prettying him up in case they decided to use him as some sort of homme fatale. In terms of physicality, Lanz is the paragon of his species. He can run faster, swim harder, carry more, and endure longer than any other among his race; he is the peak of what the tiny body is capable of.” An unsettling pit had formed in Miriam’s stomach, filling her with nauseous unease.

            “And that’s before the extensive training. They subjected his body to every form of punishment: physical, mental, emotional; breaking him down again and again until he could withstand pain of any source. They’d lock him in a room with stone-cold killers and wouldn’t let him out until he was the only one left standing. He has no fear, no remorse, nothing that would get in the way of completing a mission. Hell, I’m not sure if he can feel anything at all.” Miriam’s face had gone pale, fighting the urge to throw up. “His schooling consisted of combat and survival manuals, learning anything and everything that would assist him on the field and give him the edge over his enemies. They trained his reflexes and aim through extensive drills, forging him into a crack shot that never misses his mark. Altogether, he’s the greatest asset in the Fidelphian war effort, and he’s only a prototype.” Irvine reached the edge of the city, the Cadillac weaving its way through the olive-green hillside. The looming pines rustled in the wind, dancing with the unrelenting waters pelting them. The twisting branches of oaks carved out mangled scars in the grey skies above.  

            “None of the other test subjects survived the process, and as far as our intelligence is aware, Lanz is still the only Gecko to successfully reach the field-testing stage. The Fidelphians are desperate to optimize the program with the end goal of mass-producing Gecko soldiers. On top of that, further research is being done to heighten the Geckos’ benchmarks. Imagine if a tiny had the strength or durability of a real human or perhaps beyond even that. I’m sure you see why we needed to get our hands on Lanz.”

            “You were going to dissect him,” Miriam deduced, “to reverse engineer him and apply Fidelphian science to our own bodies.”

            “Precisely. The only edge Fidelphi has on us is their scientific prowess and their astronomical population rates. If they had entire armies of Geckos, each as strong as one of us, they’d be unstoppable. But if we had that capability, if we could make Geckos out of bigs, then that would be the deciding factor to end this war.”

            “So, why did you need him alive?” Miriam asked. “If you were only interested in his body, wouldn’t a corpse, or even a DNA sample, be enough to study?” Irvine pulled into a prestigious, brick paved driveway, two imposing, black barred gates impeding his path. The general punched into a radio receiver mounted on the gate wall and signaled the keeper to let him in.

            “Miriam, I don’t need to remind you how cunning tinies are. They wouldn’t send their greatest scientific achievement out into the world without failsafes in place. There’s a self-destruct sequence encoded into his DNA. The instant a cell dies or is removed from the body, the genes mutilate themselves, erasing all traces of surgical tampering. Upon brain death, his entire body is wiped clean of its genetic patterns, degrading them into junk data. Lanz’s corpse is just as worthless as any other tiny’s.” Irvine glanced at his daughter, noting her horrified expression. “Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. Bagging the abomination alive would have been ideal, but you should be proud. You took out Fidelphi’s greatest soldier singlehandedly. Think of how crippled their military might is now that their Gecko is decaying on some island in the middle of nowhere. That’s worthy of celebration! Maybe even a medal!”

            Miriam didn’t want a medal. She wanted Lanz. She wanted to know he was safe. She wanted to run away with him, to live with him in peace and solitude, just as they had before. “You were going to dissect him,” she muttered, staring down at her lap.

            “You see now why this mission was black ops? If word got out that our military was performing human experimentation, using a tiny’s genetic data of all things, there’d be riots in the streets. I love my country, but it’s best to keep the people blind. Let them worship, let them commune, let them justify this conflict in whatever way helps them sleep at night, but never divulge the inconvenient truths. We are the shepherds protecting the flock, and we will do whatever’s necessary to fulfill our duty. It’s the one thing I agree with the Fidelphians on. I wish it didn’t have to be this way; I had to go so far as give that pilot some inane flight path, make sure the package couldn’t be tracked. Add in that damn storm knocking him off course, and it’s a miracle we found you at all. I’m sorry that put you in such a dangerous situation, but I’m proud you came through it a survivor.” Irvine pulled up to their garage and parked the car, remaining seated to finish their conversation.

            “Lanz, the Gecko project, is this that secret weapon you’ve been working on all this time?” Miriam asked.

            “No. No, that’s too high for even your clearance level. The Gecko was a pet project, a way of balancing the scales in case Project Peace Bringer doesn’t pan out, but that’s looking less necessary by the day.” An insidious smirk carved along Irvine’s cheek, the mark of pride infused with callous hatred. Miriam stepped out of the car and looked up at the foreboding estate, the home she grew up in appearing alien to her eye.

…

            Lanz and Pierre had moved to an abandoned bunker connected to the sewer system, a hideaway used by Fidelphian spies. The room was barren, the only furniture being two tiny sized folding chairs and a card table. There were some canned goods piled in the corner, emergency provisions, and that was it. On the way there, Lanz had caught Pierre up on his three months out of commission.

            “You should have terminated yourself as soon as the enemy captured you!” Pierre snarled, slamming his fist on the table. “You were under strict orders to do so! We put that cyanide tablet in your crown for a reason. Not only do you have firsthand knowledge of our nation’s greatest secrets, but your body and cells hold research more valuable than a quarter of the national budget. The fact you’re standing in front of me is tantamount to treason!”

            “Will you calm down?” Lanz leaned against the wall, eyeing a can of sliced grapes. “I let myself get caught. At the time, I figured it’d be the easiest way of crossing the border. I was going to escape once the plane had touched down. But for obvious reasons, that never happened.”

            “Then you should have bit it on that island since you were so insistent on keeping the girl alive.” Pierre threw his burnt-up cig to the ground and pulled another from his pack. As per usual, he didn’t offer one to Lanz. “Alone with the enemy. There’s no telling what secrets you could have divulged.”

            “Hey, I considered it, but what do you know,” Lanz tugged at his cheek, showing off the missing molar, “the whole tooth popped out in the crash.” Pierre stepped closer, examining the gumline, specifically the scars from where the tooth’s root ripped out from. “Besides, I’m more useful to my country alive than dead.

            “I don’t have the patience to argue with your bullshit,” Pierre dismissed. “We need to prepare for the mission.” He walked back to the table and pulled several hand-drawn maps out of his coat, laying them flat on the table. “While you were enjoying your island getaway, I’ve been scoping out General Silver’s estate. It’s well guarded on the outside, almost as fortified as a real military base, but from what I could observe, the inside is light on patrol to not disturb the family’s day-to-day.”

            “You figure out where the weapon schematics are?” Lanz asked.

            “I haven’t been able to get inside, so no. Logic would dictate in a safe, likely in the general’s office where he could access them easily while working. From what I can tell peering through windows for months on end, his office should be here.” Pierre pointed to a section of the map. It was a simple outline of the premises with some details filled in based on observations. “That works out because there’s a vent leading from that room to the outside.”

            “Let me guess: the vents filled with anti-tiny contraptions.”

            “I would question the giants’ mental capacity even more if there weren’t. There must be a way to disable them from inside the mansion for maintenance.”

            “How about closed-circuit surveillance? Should that be a concern?” Lanz asked.

            “You give these lumbering oafs too much credit. Our own security cameras are only now entering the prototype phase. The Baltzimarans are decades behind in that category.” Pierre leaned back and pointed at Lanz. “Here are your objectives: use the girl to infiltrate the estate, locate the weapon schematics, if they’re in a safe or locked compartment, determine a method of extraction, disable the mechanisms within the vent, and once I’m inside with the equipment, assist me in capturing the schematics. We cannot risk detection on this mission, so don’t go leaving any corpses lying around without good reason, but if we are seen, we’re authorized to utilize deadly force.” Pierre reached into his coat and pulled out a shiny new toy. “Here, have an upgrade.”

            Lanz held the handgun in his hand. It had a thick, silver barrel and black rubber grip. Four vents were carved into the muzzle and a series of notches lined the top and bottom of the barrel. “The Desert Eagle,” Pierre called it. Lanz disassembled the gun in his hands, inspecting every part before reassembling it in record time. “A prototype. I recognize it isn’t a revolver, but it does fire those magnum rounds you’re so fond of, and it packs a helluva punch.”

            Lanz curled his finger over the trigger and started spinning the gun. It was heavier than his Model 27, so he started slow, gradually building up speed until he got the feel for it. Then, he pulled out his revolver and spun it in the other hand, adjusting the speed of each hand to keep both guns twirling at a steady rate. Before long, he was progressing through his entire routine of tricks, flipping and twirling and tossing, etc.

            “Why do you always feel the need to do that?” Pierre pulled another cigarette out from his pocket and lit up. “This mission is of critical importance. The weapon these bigs are devising, the Peace Bringer, is unlike anything this world has seen. In a single blast, it can wipe an entire county off the map and leave the land uninhabitable for generations. While we sit on our asses, obsessed over the fantasy of building an army of Geckos, our enemies are harnessing the apocalypse itself. If we don’t get our hands on those schematics and create our own Peace Bringer, then we’ll have no way of countering Baltzimar, and they’ll win this war with the mere threat of deploying it.”

            Lanz holstered his guns, shoving the Desert Eagle into his waist band, and scratched at his beard. “You got a knife on you?” Pierre rolled his eyes and sighed, tossing him a pocketknife with a centimeter long blade. With a few decisive cuts, Lanz shaved his beard off, leaving stubble in its place.

            “And here, you’ll want these for the mission.” Pierre tossed a couple silencers Lanz’s way. “They’ll suppress your fire power, but that gun’s strong enough for it to not matter. When do you next see the girl?”

            “Tomorrow. 14:00 hours.”

            “Good. We’ll begin the operation at 23:00. You’ll need to be fully prepared and have the vent open by then. Oh, and let’s get you a change of clothes. You smell terrible.”

…

            The next day, Miriam sat alone in the bar restroom, fingers trembling as they fidgeted together. She arrived at the bar precisely at 13:59, having told her parents she wanted to take a drive by herself around town. The minute she spent in there waiting for Lanz felt like an eternity.

            “Yo!” A familiar voice rang out from under the windowsill. Before Miriam could look up to see him, Lanz dropped from the window onto his lover’s lap. “Were you wai-” Before he could finish, Lanz found himself mashed into Miriam’s lips, her hands wrapping tightly around his frame.

            “Lanz! Lanz, I… I know…” she sputtered. It looked like she was about to cry.

            “Woah! Calm down, my canary.” Miriam paused upon hearing Lanz’s words and glanced up at the windowsill. It was bright and sunny, the golden rays radiating brilliantly through the open glass, blinding Miriam as they flashed in her view. The faint song of morning doves could be heard behind the ambient rumbling of city life.

            “Sorry,” Miriam rubbed her tired eyes, “I’m just a little emotional seeing you again.” Focus, Miriam thought. Now’s not the time to talk about his past. Taking a closer look at him, she realized he was no longer in his filth ridden tank top and pants, replaced with a dark blue track suit and matching baggy pants. “Nice digs.”

            “I found them in one of our caches. It’s nice wearing something clean for once.” Lanz noted her outfit as well, it being the first time he saw her in casual clothes: a blue, button-up blouse tucked into grey, high-waist slacks.

            “So, did you find a way out for us?”

            “There’s a boat headed up north to Namsta, discreet, captain doesn’t ask questions, but it’ll be a few days before he sets out. I think it’d be best if I stay with you until then.”

            “Fantastic!” Miriam’s eyes lit up. “I can keep you in my room. My parents and the maids don’t go in there unannounced, and there’s plenty of spots to hide in when I’m away.”

            “Sounds good. I'm ready when you are.” Holding Lanz in her hand, Miriam stood up and undid her front button, unzipping her slacks to reveal the white panties enveloping her crotch.

            “I was thinking I'd hide you up front this time.” She tugged open her underwear and slid the tiny man inside, letting the elastic snap back and sealing Lanz's body against hers. His head and torso rested against her pubic bush while his feet followed the hammock below her taint, leaving his waist, thighs, and pelvis to greet the moistening lips. “Just don't get me too excited while I'm driving.” 

            With her man in tow, Miriam awkwardly stepped out of the restroom, waltzed through the bar, and went outside to her car, hoping no one paid any mind to the slight bulge in her pants. She hopped into the driver’s seat of a velvet-red Roadster and sped off. The purring of the engine traveled through the car, sending a tidal wave of vibrations into Lanz through the seat. Yesterday’s inadvertent massage couldn’t compare to today’s as Lanz’s trembling body rode Miriam’s vaj. The woman took one hand off the steering wheel as she raced through town and pressed her lover into her crotch, rubbing him into her wet pussy. Lanz tried to linger on the memory of wearing unstained clothing, but the familiar scent of Miriam’s cum drove such nostalgic recollections back into the void. It was going to be a long drive home.

…

            “If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's enjoying himself,” Pierre muttered to himself. The special agent was laying low beneath an upturned Styrofoam cup situated by the bar's brick wall, peering through a miniscule hole in the side as a velvet-red roadster peeled off. A thin string led from the cup to the bathroom window facing the backlot. After confirming that the coast was clear, Pierre abandoned the cup and returned to the sewers. “Sick bastard.”

…

            Lanz sat upright, his back to Miriam’s pillow with the giant, muscular woman snoozing beside him. It was 22:50, ten minutes before he was to rendezvous with Pierre, and Lanz was feeling restless. He had never once felt anxious before a mission, but this time was different. An unease gnawed at his heart, but he couldn’t place the emotion. It wasn’t fear nor doubt, nor was it regret, but some unknown feeling eating away at him.

            “Is something the matter?” Miriam asked, gazing at Lanz through half-shut eyes.

            “I’m just excited is all.” He wouldn’t turn to look at her. “Maybe a little nervous.”

            “Don’t worry, it’s all going to work out.” She rubbed his back with her finger, the soothing caress of her massive fingertip only fueling his unease further. “Soon, we’ll be far away in some distant country. We can start fresh and live a normal life together away from the war. Just you and me.” She continued rubbing until she drifted off, her eyelids sealing shut. With the stated hour quickly approaching, Lanz leapt off the bed, adamant in his refusal to turn back. He took a deep breath, and his eyes went hollow, banishing his unease.

            Upon landing on the floor, Lanz shed his tracksuit, revealing the black, insulated stealth suit fastened tightly against his musculature. The Desert Eagle, equipped with a silencer, remained holstered on his right hip, the Model 27 holstered on the opposite side. Nine .0357 magnum rounds rested in the Eagle; added with the six in the revolver made for a total of fifteen shots, more than enough for the mission at hand. A grappling hook looped around his chest.

            Lanz crawled under the closed door to Miriam’s bedroom, his tiny body just thin enough to squeeze through the gap. The upper floor hallway was empty, it leading to each of the residents’ bedrooms plus the guest rooms. To keep the noise down, no guards patrolled up there at night, making Lanz descent to the first floor a breeze. He rushed down the staircase leading the main foyer and made for the expansive living room towards the mansion’s back wall. At night, two guards patrolled the mansion interior, keeping in regular contact with the three dozen active guards stationed outside. A half-dozen more guards were stationed in the basement den; they spent most their time unwinding, playing cards or reading magazines to pass the time, regularly swapping rotation with the patrolling guards, but they were each ready to mobilize at a moment's notice in case of an alert.

            Lanz reached the living room unspotted and hid behind the leg of an accent table. One guard was currently patrolling in the kitchen on the far side of the mansion; he would be of no concern to Lanz for quite some time, by which point the tiny planned to be in the office. Lanz stood and waited, staring at a door in the living room corner. After two minutes, a guard stepped out from it, standing in front of the door as he scanned the living room. That door led to a short hallway which emptied into General Silver’s office. A guard walked through the hallway and stepped into the office every twenty minutes. That’s what Pierre had gathered studying the hallway window.

            Eventually, the guard stepped away from the door and continued his patrol, following the back wall perpendicular to Lanz’s current location. Lanz silently trudged over to the door and slid under it. With a quick jaunt, Lanz could cross the short hallway in half a minute, passing by the doors to a bathroom and a lounge on one side, and crossing under the large window on the other. A guard stood stationed outside in front of the window at all times, making entry through it impossible, but he kept his back turned towards the interior, allowing Lanz to slip by unnoticed inside. Once he reached the other end of the hallway, Lanz got down on the ground and crawled under the closed door’s gap into the office.

            The space was lavish. Bookshelves lined the walls, reaching up to the ceilings. Each one was filled with dense texts on strategy, warfare, and history. A grand mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, covered in documents, office supplies, and a gallery of framed photos of Miriam and her mother, depicting the two at different milestones throughout the years. Looking left, Lanz spotted the vent grate just below the ceiling, sandwiched between the tops of two bookshelves. With a solid throw, Lanz lodged his grappling hook into the grate and ascended the side of one of the bookshelves.

            At the top, Lanz sidled up to a small control panel mounted on the wall next to the vent. It was a smidge larger than his torso with buttons and knobs the size of his head, and a few sliders that ran the length of his arms. The grate wasn't screwed on, instead Lanz simply pressed a button to unlock the simple mechanism, popping the grate’s bottom corners ajar.

            Peering into the vent, Lanz didn't see any traps or contraptions. The steel corridor went on for a few feet before turning into a corner, nothing visible blocking its path. Lanz pulled out a bullet from his revolver and tossed it into the vent. As soon as it touched the metal surface, bright blue bolts of electricity struck out at it, zapping the metal casing with lethal intensity. Lanz quickly ducked behind the wall as his ammunition ignited, rocketing out of the vent like a freshly popped corn kernel. 

            Electrified floors, Lanz thought. That'll keep us out for sure. He fiddled with the control panel, determining what controlled the office environment and what controlled the electrical current. With a couple button presses and the spin of a dial, Lanz deactivated the trap. With his first objective complete, he repelled down the grappling hook, leaving it still attached to the grate for his partner as he reached the floor.

            Next, he ran to the other side of the desk towards a bookshelf facing the vent. There were a few heavy tomes standing on the bottom shelf, but by expending all his muscles, Lanz managed to pull them aside to reveal the safe built into the wall. It wasn't anything grand, big enough to hold documents and a few small items, and it featured a numbered dial that went up to ninety-nine.

            23:04. Pierre should be here any minute now. Lanz turned towards the vent, hearing light footsteps echo through the chamber far above. Pierre appeared with a load of equipment strapped to his back, pushing open the grate and sliding down the grapple’s rope. He hustled over to Lanz, the equipment jostling on his back.

            “Can you get any louder?” Lanz remarked. “There’s a few guards you’ve yet to wake.”

            “Shut up.” Pierre offloaded two studio light poles and a press camera mounted on a tripod. “Crack the safe already! We don’t have much time.”

            Thanks to you. Lanz walked up to the safe dial and spun it. Right 9. Left 3. Right 98. The safe clicked and the inch thick metal door opened for the tiny. Inside was a blue folder with black text printed on it.

            “How’d you know the combination?” Pierre asked, almost finished setting up.

            “I snuck in here earlier when the family was away to scope things out. When I found the safe, I tried a few guesses.” Lanz dragged the folder out, the paper nearly twice his height. “You wouldn’t believe it. It’s his daughter’s birthday.”

            “You can’t be serious.” Pierre finished angling the camera as Lanz brought the folder to him. “The stupidity of these brutes never ceases to amaze.” The front of the folder read in bold lettering: Project Peace Bringer. An unfamiliar symbol was drawn just below the text: three wedges surrounding a dot, all encased within a circle. Lanz flipped through the pages, stopping to read as Pierre snapped the pictures. What Pierre had said earlier was not hyperbole. Baltzimar was creating a weapon capable of wiping out a four-to-ten mile radius in a single blast, potentially killing millions of tinies and eradicating whole communities. Fidelphi, or any country big or tiny, could never stand up to such a power, not without a weapon of equally destructive force.

            Lanz flipped through the schematics, each page reconfirming how far Baltzimar’s morals had fallen. Once Pierre snapped the final shot, he began disassembling the equipment. Lanz continued reading the documents, a handwritten note scrawled on the final page:

            Miriam, I can only pray you never find yourself under threat of such ungodly power. All my actions are for your sake. No matter the cost, if I can grant you a world free from strife, then I will have won this war.

            “I’m all set,” Pierre said, equipment loaded on his back. “Put it all back and let’s get out of here.” He started walking towards the vent, readjusting the heavy equipment so it wouldn’t fall off his back.

            “Right. Be careful with…” Lanz froze in place. Standing a few feet before him in the office doorway was a towering, pajama-clad woman.

            “Lanz?” Miriam asked. “What are you doing?” In the darkened room, she could see the tiny in full view standing over the top-secret documents, the lid to the safe peeking out beyond the side of the bookshelf. Pierre stopped in his tracks, completely obscured behind the opulent desk. Lanz didn’t hesitate. He drew the Desert Eagle and aimed it straight at Miriam’s heart.

            “Miriam, turn around, go back to bed, and forget about all of this.” His eyes were empty, devoid of any human emotion.

            “What’s the meaning of this? What are you doing in here?” Her eyes quivered, her heart raced. She took a step forward.

            “Stop!” Lanz roared. “Turn around, go back to bed, and forget all about me.” He cocked the hammer, the click echoing throughout the room. “I won’t repeat myself again.” Pierre pressed himself against one of the desk’s drawers. He had the film containing the schematics, and unlike the fool beside him, he hadn’t been seen. His instincts screamed at him to abandon his partner, to escape out the vent as soon as the chance presented itself, to complete the mission by any means necessary, but he knew firsthand that when abandoning a comrade to their fate, a spurned soldier wasn’t above taking teammates down with him. He had to wait and see how things played out.

            “You used me.” Her skin grew pale. “You used me to get to my father.” Her stomach twisted itself in knots. “To get to his work.” She felt her whole body tear asunder.

            “That’s correct.” Lanz’s cold stare never left his target. He spoke softly under his breath, his lips barely moving: “Pierre, she hasn’t seen you. Get out of here. I’ll take care of her.” Satisfied with the go-ahead, his partner heeded his instructions, slowly creeping to the other edge of the desk, ever closer to the rope leading to the vent. “Three months ago,” Lanz called out to her, “I allowed myself to be captured by Baltzimaran forces. I needed to get to General Irvine, to get to these plans. Meeting you was a happy coincidence. Getting stranded on that island was an inopportune setback, at first. But seducing you was all too simple.” The corners of his lips edged upwards, producing small cracks in his otherwise icy demeanor. “Oh, a tragic story here, some playful teasing there, throw in a life-saving experience or two, and you were putty in my hands. All for this moment, so I could sneak in here so effortlessly and take what I will.”

            “But you said we’d be together.” Miriam was on the verge of tears. Every breath hurt. Each pulse threatened to erupt out of her veins. “We’d start a new life away from the war, just like we had, just like we had before.” She choked on her words. They trickled from her throat like razor blades.

            “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” His gun didn’t waver. Neither did those hollow eyes. “I have a duty to my country. It’s as simple as that.”

            “Was it all a lie?” She took a step forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Has everything you told me been a total lie!?”

            Bang!

            Lanz fired a warning shot at her feet, leaving a hole in the tile floor just before her big toe. In a heartbeat, his gun was trained on her heart once more.

            “I loved you, Lanz. I really loved you. And you’re just going to throw that away? For what, your country? For this stupid war? I thought we were beyond that!” Miriam’s heart beat so hard it could split in half. Her ears rang like sirens. Her lungs stopped functioning. Her stomach was turned so tight that it went numb. “Was it real? Be honest with me, Lanz. Was any of it real?” Time didn’t move within the office. Everything meandered in heavy malaise. “Was the love we shared as real for you as it was for me?”

            A snicker broke through Lanz’s otherwise stoic face, a hateful smirk accompanied by a hyena laugh, as if Miriam had just told him an inside joke. “My precious Miriam,” he goaded, “I’ve never loved a thing in my goddamned life.”

            In a sudden burst, the hulking woman charged at him, leaving the tiny only a split second to put his enemy out of her misery. Lanz squeezed the trigger aimed right at her heart.

            Bang!

            The bullet flew clean over her shoulder, brushing past the tips of her hair and lodging itself into the wall behind her. In all his years of service, Lanz had never once missed a shot. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how to react. A rush of suppressed emotions blurred his vision. The fear of failure consumed his senses. He stood there like a deer in the headlights as the massive woman stomped ever closer. His thumb trembled against the hammer, unable to pull it back lest his bullet stray from its target. Though he tried, his finger refused to pull the trigger.

            Lanz tossed the Desert Eagle aside and reached for his revolver, but it was too late. Miriam’s hand slammed into him like a brick wall, scooping him up and launching him into the open vault. He crashed into the iron plate lining the back of the safe and watched helplessly as the last remnants of light slipped through the closing door.

            “Miriam! Wait! Don’t-” It was too late. Miriam slammed the safe door shut, the dial spinning until Lanz was locked inside the sealed chamber. She leaned on the shelf above the vault and cried into her arms. A faint tapping could be heard from inside the safe, the sound of Lanz hitting the door with the butt of his gun.

            In all the confusion, Pierre had made it up the rope undetected. Miriam’s hunched over back faced the vent, allowing the special agent to observe the situation from high up undetected. Based on the safe’s dimensions, he thought, I’d estimate that he has two minutes worth of air. Standing on the edge of the vent corridor, Pierre’s hand hovered over his gun. It’d be simple enough to kill Miriam, creating a potential window to rescue Lanz, but he was on a tight schedule. If the patrolling guard stepped into the office and found a dead Miriam, the entire estate, and inevitably the entire city, would be put on high alert, endangering the success of the mission. On top of that, Pierre didn’t know the combination. He didn’t know when Miriam’s birthday was, and he was too busy setting up his camera equipment to have caught Lanz dialing it in. The safe’s steel walls were too thick for the trapped tiny’s voice to come through. Pierre already had what he came for, it was simple as crawling back through the vent, avoiding the outer guard whose patrol he had memorized, and getting the film out of the country. He wasn’t going to throw away months of hard work for Lanz of all people, Gecko or no. This mission was too important to jeopardize over a single soldier. Sorry, pal, but you reap what you sow.

            Still, Lanz was an extremely important asset. Alive. If he somehow survived, and the Baltzimaran’s got their hands on him, the threat of giant Geckos would undo the advantage of the stolen Peace Bringer schematics in the eyes of Pierre’s superiors. If he wasn’t willing or able to save the Gecko, he had to at least confirm his death.

            Two minutes passed. In Pierre’s time contemplating, two minutes had passed. Lanz was out of breathable air. Pierre knew all too well that Lanz could hold his breath for eight minutes. The Gecko would never miss a chance to show off during underwater training. Pierre could never beat him, his record topping out at seven minutes thirty-two seconds. Eight more minutes. You can’t survive in there any longer than that.

            Three minutes passed. It would be close. If Pierre waited there for ten minutes, he risked being spotted by the patrolling guard. Thanks to the time wasted by the couple’s spat, the guard was expected to return the minute Lanz would lose consciousness. Miriam crying in her father’s office would be suspicious enough to put the patrol on edge, and it wouldn’t take long for them to discover the vent’s trap had been shut off. Pierre had to leave the moment he confirmed Lanz’s death.

            Four minutes passed.  Miriam’s crying filled the room. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious, more of a steady whimper, but Pierre could tell they were real tears, the sound of a woman who had lost what she held dearest. If she weren’t from Baltizimar, if she weren’t a big, if she wasn’t the daughter of General Silvers, if she hadn’t fallen in love with Lanz, Pierre might’ve considered feeling sorry for her.

            Five minutes passed. Pierre’s fingers trembled. That woman’s shrill whimpering was scratching at his nerves. He needed a smoke, but even the most brutish big wouldn’t be dumb enough to light up on a stealth mission. He had to make do with the thought of Lanz suffocating in that safe.

            Six minutes passed. Really, what could a big ever see in a tiny? The inverse doubly so. The Gecko was capable of eliminating an entire enemy base singlehandedly and could assassinate his own countrymen without batting an eye, but what impressed, and revolted, Pierre most of all was that he could spend three whole months with something as disgusting as a giant woman and trick it into loving him.

            Seven minutes passed. He was wasting time. He had the film. He had the schematics. Lanz was as good as dead, but no, “as good” wasn’t good enough. What if the woman grew soft and set him free? Or she might not realize how long Lanz could hold his breath and open the safe too early. Or perhaps, by some twisted miracle, Lanz could actually break himself out.

            Eight minutes passed. That was impossible. Pierre had seen the inside of the safe. Inch thick steel all around. It was inconceivable for a tiny, even a Gecko, to break through that. Lanz’s only way out was through that sealed door, and his time alive was thinning fast.

            Nine minutes passed. Lanz’s limit was almost up. So was Pierre’s. A guard would be walking through that door any minute now. The crying daughter would prove an adequate distraction for a moment, but she would certainly put the estate on high alert. It’s fine, Lanz will be dead soon. Pierre clenched his teeth. The woman hadn’t stopped crying. Tears ran down the edge of the shelf like a steady stream. She was still hunched over in the same position, unflinching. The safe remained shut.

            Ten minutes had passed. That was it. By all accounts, Lanz should be nothing more than a corpse left to rot in pitch darkness. Pierre had to leave. A guard would barge in within a few seconds, but the special agent was riddled with doubt. It’s been three months since I’ve last seen him. What if he’s evolved? What if he can still breath? A few seconds more, that’s all it’d take. If I turn away now, I’ll never know for sure.

            Fifteen more seconds passed. Pierre didn’t take his eyes off the weeping lady. They both remained unflinching. I need to know. If that bastard’s still alive, I need to know.

            Thirty seconds passed. The guard should be here by now. Where is he? No. They aren’t always exact. He could have gotten distracted, or there could have been a random rotation or one of the family stopped him. I can’t worry about that now. I have to confirm his death.

            Forty-five seconds passed. This is insane. No one can hold their breath this long. The Gecko could only do it for eight minutes. He’s dead. He has to be. He has to be dead. I have to get out of here.

            A total of eleven minutes had passed since Lanz was locked in the safe, a full minute more than he could endure. Miriam continued to weep. The faint pounding from inside the vault had ceased a long time ago. Lanz Ocel was dead. There was no denying it. Pierre turned away and retreated deeper into the vent, his job here done. So long, you jerk. A top-secret government project doesn’t get a hero’s funeral, but I’ll light a cigarette in your honor when I return home.

            Miriam’s mind was blank. After eleven minutes crying, her tears were all dried up. Her eyes crusted over; her expression winced in exhaustion. It didn’t matter though. No one could see her face anyway. As long as she kept crying, that low, steady whimper, she’d be fine.

            661… 662… 663… Miriam’s mind was blank. 684… 685… 686… Words and images failed to render. 697… 698… 699… She was focused on one thing. 700… 701… 702… She counted the passing seconds. 705… 706… 707… Steady as a metronome. 708… 709… 710… Precision was paramount. 711… 712… 713… If she were one second off, then everything would be over. 714… 715… 716… Too soon risked discovery, and too late risked death. 717… 718… 719…

            Miriam opened her eyes and fell back. Her hand lunged for the dial. Right 9. Left 3. Right 98. The safe door creaked open. Lanz sat in the center of the vault cross-legged, his eyes closed, his arms resting on his knees. As the office’s ambient light touched his face, he took a deep breath. Lanz had always been proud of the fact that he could hold his breath for eight minutes straight, so proud that he could actually hold it for ten minutes, just in case some upstart had the gall to break his record. It was a secret he kept from everyone, having never told a soul until earlier that afternoon.

            Lanz had barely gotten his eyes opened when he felt four lumbrous fingers wrap around him. With a sudden jerk, he was out of the safe and pressed into his lover’s pillowy lips. “We did it,” Miriam muttered. “It worked.” When he was finally free to look around, Lanz checked for signs of his former partner. The grate had been shut and the grappling hook gone. Aside from the secret documents lying beside Miriam, there was no evidence he was ever there.

            “You were really good,” Lanz admitted. “I almost started crying myself.”

            “Thanks. You weren’t bad either.” Miriam scratched her cheek. Her eyes gazed tenderly at the tiny in her hand. “A bit too campy, but convincing enough.”

            “Sorry.” Lanz rubbed the back of his head. “I was getting into playing the villain. It’s pretty fun!”

            “Well, let’s get out of here before the guards start getting anxious.” Miriam tugged at her collar and slipped Lanz down her chest. Her bosom’s warmth exuded all around him, swaddling him in affection.

…

That Day, 15:00, Eight Hours Before the Operation Began,

            “Miriam! What are you in such a hurry for?” her mother called out from the foyer. Miriam had just slammed the front door shut and was running up the stairs to her bedroom.

            “No worries, Mom! Just, uh…” She was trying her best to hide the wet stain on the front of her pants as she raced up the stairs. “Getting a change of clothes, is all.”

            “Ok? I’m baking cookies right now. They should be done soon.” Rosa Silvers tried to catch up to her daughter, but Miriam had already disappeared into the second floor.

            “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back down in a moment.” Miriam reached her room and slammed the door, locking it shut.

            “What’s gotten into her?” Irvine asked, walking out from the hallway that led to his office.

            “Who knows?” Rosa Silvers shrugged. “Maybe she’s found a boy.”

            “What!?” Irvine’s eyes nearly popped from their socket.

            “I’m kidding, dearie.” She kissed her husband’s cheek and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Though she is at that age. If she didn’t cut such an intimidating figure, she’d be swarming with hopeful suitors.”

            “Absolutely not!” Irvine’s fist clenched so hard he almost broke his own fingers. “No lecherous cretins are getting their grimy paws on my baby girl.” Rosa sighed and made for the kitchen.

            Miriam’s bedroom was utilitarian to put it lightly. The twenty-one-year-old hadn’t used it since enlisting at seventeen, and before then she had cleaned out much of the knick-knacks of her adolescence. All that remained, aside from the typical bedroom furniture, were two large bookshelves filled with romance and adventure novels.

            Miriam pulled Lanz out of her pants and sat on her bed, letting Lanz stand in her palm. The tiny was drenched from head to toe in his lover’s juices. “Sorry about that,” Miriam said, “and on your new clothes too. I’ll sneak you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up.”

            “It’s fine for now,” Lanz conceded, wiping ejaculate off his face. He unzipped the track jacket and stepped out from his baggy pants, revealing the stealth suit and weapons strapped to his body. Miriam took it all in with wide eyes. “We have matters to discuss.”

            “Yeah, we do.” Miriam glanced around her room, paranoid of someone listening in. “Are we safe here?”

            “We should be. My handler will remain outside until the appointed hour. I’m glad you got my message.”

            “The line is ‘my chickadee,’ dummy, not canary,” she giggled. “I had a feeling we were being tailed from the moment we got off the boat. So, it was one of your countrymen expecting you? This handler? And what’s this about an appointed hour?”

            “His name’s Pierre Pillon. He’s a Fidelphi Special Agent. I trained under him, and we’ve been assigned as partners for most of my career in the field. He’s a rat, and a worse soldier than me, but he’s dedicated. I was expected to rendezvous with him in this country before the crash, to help him infiltrate this mansion and procure the schematics to a WMD your father is developing. Now that I’ve returned, he expects me to complete our mission. As long as he knows I’m alive, there’s nowhere we can live in peace without giant targets painted on our back.”

            “So, you’re helping him sneak in here to steal the plans for this weapon?” Miriam asked. While they spoke, she tried to brush the cum out of Lanz’s hair with her fingers. “But if you succeed, he’ll expect you to return to Fidelphi.”

            “That’s right, but I won’t let that happen. I’m working on a plan. I need to fake my own death.”

            “Of course. All evidence of the Gecko Project is erased when you die, so your military won’t need to retrieve your body. But what if they suspect you of desertion?”

            “If Pierre completes the mission in my stead, they’ll have no reason to. It’d be far simpler to kill him myself and run. They could never fathom that I’d concoct a convoluted scheme to elope with a giantess.” Lanz took a deep breath and turned his head downward. “So, you know about the Gecko Project.”

            “My father told me everything,” Miriam sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have heard it from you. I feel so bad. Everything you went through. Everything…”

            “Can you still love me?” Lanz interrupted. Fear dripped off his words, a fear Miriam once believed he was too stoic to feel. “Can you stomach the thought, knowing what I am?” Miriam raised Lanz to eye level and waited for him to look her in the eye.

            “Lanz, I will always love you. What you are, what you’ve been forced to do, none of that matters anymore. What matters is what we have been through, the time we spent together. I didn’t fall for the living weapon, just as you didn’t fall for the spoiled heiress. On that island, we let go of our old lives to forge something new, a bond free from the prejudices that our pasts had us shoulder. I don’t care if your genes had been altered, or if you’ve been programmed to kill, or if you’re five inches tall, I love the person beyond all that, the one that loves action movies and gets flustered when I’m naked, the one that loves to show off and is way too easy to mess with. I love the man who’d suck the poison out of a woman who held him captive in her pocket and even stitch up the wound on her back. And I’ll love him for as long as he loves me.” Lanz rested his head against the side of her nose and cried into it, wrapping his arms as far around her cheeks as he could. The cool tears ran down her nose and onto her lips. Miriam draped her free hand over his back and kissed his torso.

            Eventually, Lanz pulled back and wiped the tears off his face. The two smiled at each other. “If you ever need to talk or let something off your chest or anything, I’ll be there to listen to you,” Miriam said. “If you never want to speak about your past ever again, then that’s fine too.”

            “Thank you. Truly.” Lanz couldn’t remember the last time he cried, if he ever had. It felt good. “I’ll cherish you forever.” Miriam stole another kiss from him and lowered him back to her lap.

            “Alright, but for now, we should focus on getting you killed. When is this infiltration supposed to take place?”

            “Tonight. 23:00.”

            “That should be enough time to prepare. The weapon schematics are probably in a safe in my dad’s office. It’s built into the wall behind one the bookshelves.”

            “That’s what we suspected. We’ll need the combination.”

            “Knowing him, it’s probably my birthday.”

            “You can’t be serious.” Lanz deadpanned in her palm.

            “My dad may be the highest-ranking officer in our military, but before that he’s a family man.” Lanz rubbed his furrowed brow, wondering how this conflict had lasted as long as it had. “I’ll get my folks away this evening, if you want to scope the place out.”

            “That’d be great.” Lanz held his chin in his hand, pacing in Miriam’s palm as he formulated a plan of action. “I have some ideas regarding how to fake my death. I’ll run them by you once I have a fuller picture. What will we do about the guards? It would be a problem if they catch us in the middle of the act.”

            “Oh, I’ll just tell them to stay away from the office tonight.”

            “They won’t find that suspicious?” Lanz asked.

            “They’re under direct orders to do anything my mom or I tell them to do, no questions asked. Last one that asked questions, well, it didn’t end well for him.” The tiny broke out in a cold sweat.

            I hope I never have to meet her father. Lanz paced some more, strategies flying through his thoughts. Plans pieced together and were discarded, potentialities slipping by to connect threads to possibilities. “Are you certain you’re willing to do this? You’ll be betraying your country and your father.”

            “There’s not a shred of doubt in my mind,” Miriam replied. “I don’t care about this war anymore, all this pointless bloodshed. Which side wins doesn’t matter, I’m not sure it ever has. All that matters to me is us.” The two stared into each other’s eyes, sharing an understanding that went beyond the inherent gaps between them.

            “Sweetheart, are you okay in there?” Rosa’s voice called out from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there for a while. The cookies are ready.”

            “Ok, Mom! I’ll be out in a second!” Miriam looked down at her pants, the crotch still stained from the car ride. “Shit, I need to change.” She set Lanz down on her bed and rushed to her dresser. “You stay in here. I’ll bring you a cookie, and we can talk further.” Lanz nodded and watched her run out the door in a fresh pair of pants. There was a great risk in their plans, a possibility that neither would live to see tomorrow, but Lanz was determined. He had the opportunity to live a quiet, fulfilling life with the woman he loved, and he wasn’t going to let that chance slip by.

…

The Following Day,

            Miriam laid face-up on her bed, holding Lanz’s chest to her chin as she made out with him. The two passionately went at it until they heard a knock at the door.

            “Sweetheart, it’s me. Can I come in?” Rosa asked. Miriam shoved Lanz under her pillow and grabbed a book off her nightstand, flipping to a random page.

            “Sure thing.” Miriam held the book over her face and read a random paragraph. It was a cheesy romance novel, one about a painter who falls in love a woman who strongly resembles one of his portraits. Rosa opened the door and sat down on the bed beside her daughter.

            “Is everything okay?” she asked. Rosa’s black hair, kept out of her eyes with a hairband, reached down to her waist. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time holed up in here.”

            “I’m taking my time readjusting.” Miriam put the book down, no longer needing to keep up the act. “I’ll be fine, just enjoying laying in a real bed again.”

            “If you say so.” Rosa leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I’m sure your boyfriend would like for you get out more.”

            “What!?” Miriam blushed furiously.

            “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that glimmer in your eyes. No matter how hard you may try, you can’t keep this sort of thing from your mother.” Miriam started hyper-ventilating. Does she know about Lanz? “I don’t know when or where you could’ve met him, but with how happy he makes you, you better do whatever you can not to lose him.” Rosa got up and headed out the door, stopping midway before closing it. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell your father. You know how he gets over this sort of thing.” With her piece said, Rosa left her daughter’s bedroom and returned downstairs. Miriam reached under her pillow and pulled out Lanz.

            “We need to get away from here soon,” Miriam said. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep you hidden here.”

            “Agreed. But, I think it’d be best if I left ahead of you.”

            “Huh?”

            “Miriam, you have a life here, people who care about you. It wouldn’t be right to abandon them.”

            “But Lanz,” her grip around him tightened, “I want to be with you more than anything.”

            “And you will be,” he reassured her, “but you shouldn’t throw all this away.” Lanz tried to pry her fingers off him, but she wouldn’t budge. “There’s a country far to the north, a small island nation called Birhamming. I’d been there once on a mission to meet a foreign emissary. It has gorgeous vistas, and the people are really friendly, and both sizes live among another there. I can stowaway on a ship headed there and wait for you. Don’t run away from this, you’re lucky to have it. Find a reason to move out there and say your goodbyes. I’ll wait however long that takes.”

            “Alright,” she huffed. “I’ll drop you off at the harbor. We can go on one last car ride first.” Miriam loosened her grip and let Lanz sit on her chest between her boobs.

            “Also, there’s a favor I’d like to ask of you.”

            “Name it.”

            “Before I go, when you get a chance, can you take pictures of the Peace Bringer schematics and hand me the film?” he asked. Miriam raised an eyebrow.

            “What for?”

            “I’m going to leak them to the press overseas. Whether Baltzimar or Fidelphi complete such a weapon, no good could come from it. But if the rest of the world found out about the project, they’d have to step in. I’m not certain as to what that would accomplish, but it’s worth a shot if it might mean an end to this war. At the very least, it’d give me a small semblance of atonement.”

            “Understood.” Miriam brushed Lanz’s hair with her finger, tucking it behind his ears. “But, we can wait a little while before you head off, right? Like, until tomorrow. Or next week.”

            “Hey! You’re the one who said I couldn’t stay hidden here much longer,” Lanz objected. Miriam’s pouting drew a toothy grin across his face. “Ok, ok. A little longer.” Miriam grabbed Lanz and brought him back to her lips, embracing him for as long as she could.

            When Solus Magnus Rex, founding king of Birhamming, stood along the jagged cliffsides of the island’s northeastern coast, he christened the sprawling emerald hills: the Edge of Eternity. After his death, a humble, copper statue, no taller than he was, was built where he supposedly stood at that historic moment. It was five feet tall, the orangish-brown of the metal lost to a weathered green, and had a massive hole in the right half of the torso, symbolic of the lance wound that ultimately ended the king’s glorious life.

            Beside the base of the statue's foot, Lanz sat and gazed out upon the empty horizon. Yellows and pinks of the setting sun peeked through the infinite grey, giving the serene waters an otherworldly hue. The tiny hadn't moved in two hours, kept comfortable in a black turtleneck and thick aviator's jacket. It had been six months since he had arrived on Birhamming, six months since he faked his death, and six months since he had last seen the love of his life.

            The war between Fidelphi and Baltzimar had come to a standstill. The World Government, a coalition made up of forty developed countries around the world, intervened in the conflict once it had been leaked that Baltzimar was developing a weapon of mass destruction, one capable of obliterating an entire big city or tiny county. To say the war was over would be premature since tensions between each nation remained high, but after fifteen years of nonstop war, the temporary peace was more than welcome. The World Government had enforced a ceasefire while they investigated both countries’ military programs. The discovery of Fidelphi's Gecko experiments only served to further complicate matters. Sanctions and penalties came rolling in from across the globe, the world wishing to dissuade any more of the conflict they were previously all too happy to ignore. 

            Every day from 16:00 hours until sunset, Lanz sat by that statue and waited. The king's statue was the couple’s agreed upon meeting point for when Miriam reached Birhamming, and though six whole months had passed since then, he still made his way to the statue after every shift at the fish factory. The pair had no way of communicating with each other, so Lanz simply waited, day in and day out until he could see his beloved again. It didn't matter if it took her six months, sixty months, six hundred months, or if she never arrived at all; Lanz would wait by that statue until the end of time if he had to. Miriam was the only reason he had to live, the only purpose he ever believed in. Spending a few hours each day losing himself to the unmoving waves stretched out before him was well worth it if it meant seeing her anytime sooner.

            As night fell, Lanz got up and made his way homeward. Even when the sky was free from clouds, the stars were less present than what he saw stranded, the lights from Birhamming’s towns and villages polluting the cosmos. Still, the Edge of Eternity itself was quiet, several miles out from the nearest town and only hosting a spattering of isolated cabins and villas. Lanz settled down in a humble shack a short ways away from Solus’ Statue. The four-room ranch was far too big for the tiny, confusing the elderly woman who sold it to him, but it was sizeable enough for him and Miriam to eventually live together in.

            Upon reaching his doorstep, Lanz scaled the ladder he had leaned up against the doorframe and hung off the knob to make his way inside. On the outside, the knob had a thin rope tied to it, so he could pull it shut when he left, but when inside, Lanz could simply push the wooden door shut. The foyer, kitchen, and living room all cohabitated the same space inside the shack with a bedroom, bathroom, and utility room branching off from it. The shack was sparse on amenities, carrying few furniture beyond the bare essentials and no entertainment to speak of.

            Lanz approached his kitchen counter and used the drawers jutting out from it to parkour to the countertop. He grabbed a tiny sized can of spam off a neatly stacked pile and tossed its processed contents into a frying pan large enough to cook himself in. Using a butter knife, Lanz fiddled with the knob on the front of the stove, lighting a fire beneath the pan and quickly frying his meal. A minute later, he nudged the knob to the off position and used the knife to scrape his half-burnt spam onto a slice of tiny bread. Adding another slice on top, Lanz chowed down on his dinner. Though hunting could be a pain, he missed the wild game he had grown accustomed to eating on the deserted island.

            Knock-Knock-Knock

            Lanz set his sandwich on the counter and walked to the edge. He very rarely had visitors, especially at this hour. The tiny leapt off the end of the counter and grabbed onto the doorknob, swiveling on it and allowing the momentum to slowly swing it open. As he dropped to the floor, he looked up at the woman standing at his doorstep. She was tall and muscular, wearing a white sundress and a red leather jacket. Her eyes were closed as she bowed towards the house’s sole resident.

            “I’m sorry to bother you so late. Could you point me to where-” Miriam opened her eyes, her bowed head pointed straight at the tiny gawking at her. Her black hair, neatly combed, came down to her shoulders, and her sunburnt skin had faded into an even tan. Miriam fell to her knees with arms outstretched, allowing Lanz to jump onto her chest. The reunited couple came together in a warm embrace, Miriam wrapping her arms tightly around her lover.

            “I’m so happy to see you!” Lanz’s voice was muffled, pressed against Miriam’s chest.

            “I’m sorry it took so long. I got here as soon as I could.” After a while, Miriam loosened her grip and wrapped her hand around his torso.

            “You look great.”

            “Thanks. You do too.” She brushed her fingertip through his long hair, tucking it partially behind his ear. “May I come in?”

            “Please!” Lanz stayed in Miriam’s hand as she carried him inside. There was a dining table separating the kitchen from the living room; Miriam sat down at one of the two chairs and set Lanz on the table before her.

            “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Miriam caressed her lover’s cheek, desperate to touch him once more. “I was so worried about you. Are you doing well? Have there been any complications?”

            “Aside from the loneliness, I’ve been great. I have a job, a house; for the first time in my life, I actually feel in control of things.” Lanz rubbed his palms against Miriam’s finger, taking in her warmth. “Our plan worked. If Fidelphi knew I was alive, they would have sent someone by now. Granted, with the Gecko Project exposed, it’s probably more convenient for them to believe I’m dead. Oh, my new name is David Pliskin by the way, so call me that when we’re out in public. Officially, I’m a Fidelphian refugee working towards citizenship here.

            “David, huh?” Miriam smiled. “I like it.” Miriam kept fidgeting with Lanz, poking and rubbing and pinching and fussing with him. She tried to pull her hand away, to give him a break, but she couldn’t help herself. “It took some time, but I convinced my parents to let me move out here. With the ongoing investigations and having spent as much time as I did estranged from civilization, they were hesitant about me moving so far away by myself. Fortunately, the investigation committee determined that I had no knowledge or involvement in Project Peace Bringer, so I was clear to go. My dad’s facing some repercussions, though nothing too serious since the weapon hadn’t yet entered the testing phase. Our government did pressure him into resigning, that’s the worst punishment he’s been dealt so far.” Lanz slowly nudged himself backwards, attempting to retreat from Miriam’s oppressive love, but she just dragged him closer to her and refused to let up.

            “I’ll be attending school here. There’s a prestigious college of arts a couple towns over, and from what I heard, it has a spectacular acting program. I had to wait until the semester started before I could move here; that’s partly what took me so long. Technically, I’m supposed to be living in a dorm, but no one’s going to notice when I spend all my time here. Once enough time passes, I’ll be able to move in here officially. My plan is to tell my folks I met you here, and that we fell in love while I’m attending classes.”

            “Are they going to approve of you being with a tiny?”

            “Absolutely not. But it’s something they’ll have to adjust to.” Miriam looked around the shack. Though a far cry from the mansion she grew up in, the humble abode was far more luxurious than what was available to the couple on the island. The shack was confined and intimate, perhaps the perfect living arrangements for a young couple. Her heart pounded at the excitement of starting a new life here with Lanz.

            “Are you hungry? I can whip something up for you. I’ve got…” Lanz looked to his pyramid of spam cans. “Well, I don’t have much, but I can figure something out.”

            “That’s fine,” Miriam giggled. “I ate on the way here. But, there is something I’ve been craving for a while now.” She bit her lower lip, eyeing the tiny on the table up and down. She turned around to look at the adjacent rooms. “That one’s the bedroom?” she asked, pointing to one of the doors.

            “Yeah, the bed isn’t very large by your standards, but it has enough space for us to share.” Lanz hopped down to the floor. “It’s real old too. It’ll probably creak like hell with us in it.”

            “Want to go stress test it?” she asked, a lecherous aura escaping her eyes. Lanz was already halfway to the room, discarding his clothing on the way there. Miriam slipped out of her jacket and dropped her dress to the floor, running after Lanz and scooping him up into her hand before he could get his pants off. It took no time for her to reach the bedroom, collapsing onto the worn-down mattress and unleashing a creaking cacophony from the tired springs. Miriam’s massive fingertips eclipsed Lanz’s zipper, disrobing him like she would a doll.

            Laying on her back, Miriam licked Lanz from crotch to torso. He had lost the gamey flavor he had developed on the island, but the savory base was still present, and Miriam couldn’t get enough of it. She shoved Lanz headfirst into her mouth, biting down gently on his waist to hold him in place while she sat up to remove her bra. Falling back to slide her panties off, Miriam lapped furiously at the man in her maw, coating him in thick layers of spit. Lanz grabbed onto her tongue and kissed it repeatedly in an admirable attempt to wrangle the tensile beast. She sucked and gnawed at his upper body, pushing his head far enough to nearly gag on him. With one hand held firmly around his legs, the other crept down to her wettened lips to pleasure herself. While the woman consumed Lanz’s upper body, his erect manhood grinded against the groove beneath her lower lip, threatening to unload on her chin.

            Holding Lanz by the shin, Miriam pulled him out of her mouth and dangled the tiny man over her face. Droplets of salvia dripped off him onto her lips below. She moved her hand over a smidge and let go, dropping Lanz onto her left tit and laughing as he rolled off it into her cleavage. Walls of flesh caved in on him as Miriam squeezed her breasts together, grinding the puny man between her soft bosom. Lanz squirmed against the collapsing fat, but his strength was nothing compared to his lover’s. He was trapped, unable to break free from his woman’s influence, and for whatever reason, he didn’t seem to mind. Eventually, Miriam loosened her hold on Lanz, slipping one arm under her breasts to cradle him between them while the other hand forced its way to his dick, pinching his shaft between her thumb and forefinger. Steady, deliberate strokes tugged at the tiny’s member, the rest of his body pinned to Miriam’s chest. She pulled and tugged until her lover couldn’t take it anymore, shooting his hot shot all over her fingers and tits.

            The walls around him finally gave way, allowing Lanz the chance to relax while Miriam licked her fingers clean. Heavy breathing filled the air as Miriam wiped the sticky mess off her tits and delivered it to her waiting tongue. Once she had finished, Lanz stood up and walked along her abdomen, using her six pack as stepping stones on his approach to her crotch. He maintained his balance as Miriam softly lurched to the sensation of his footsteps. Reaching the groin, the toned skin beneath Lanz’s feet gave way to a lush patch of pubic hair.

            Lanz turned around and slid between Miriam’s thighs until he was in prime position to strike her pearl. He wormed his way beneath the clitoral hood and got to licking, grabbing hold of Miriam’s skin for support as he went to town on her vulva. Miriam pressed her fingers along the tiny’s back and gave him the best massage of his life, stroking him up and down while her juices greeted him on the other side.

            While her lover licked, Miriam felt an itch growing inside her. In dire need of penetration, Miriam forced Lanz between the labia and into her pussy, shoving him in as deep as she could. Lanz’s world grew dark and wet surrounded by his lover. Once Miriam’s fingers pushed him as far as she dared, Lanz got to crawling with his own strength, like a soldier delving into an underground tunnel behind enemy lines. The walls converging in on him were so tight they could have been lethal to a lesser man. He crawled as far as the depths allowed him, kissing and massaging and thrusting along the way. Miriam’s fingers guarded the only exit, stroking herself fervently.

            Upon Lanz hitting the back, the two climaxed, Lanz’s cum losing itself in the tidal force of Miriam’s. The woman lay limply on the bed, fishing her lover out from her loosening pussy. After some digging, eliciting a few extra ripples in the afterglow, she dragged Lanz out onto her pubic bush, the hairs warming his drenched body chilling in the open air. The two laid there, still. At long last, they were together.

…

            A chromatic motley of fruits laid out before Miriam as she browsed the produce stalls. The couple had travelled into town together to visit the outdoor market to stock up on groceries and other supplies. Lanz had wandered off somewhere while Miriam browsed food fit for her stature. The market hosted vendors and products of both sizes, miniature stalls scattered throughout to cater to a smaller clientele. Miriam picked up an orange and checked its ripeness.

            “Well, aren’t you a pretty, young thing,” an older woman cooed from behind the stall. “Are you a tourist, or a new neighbor?”

            “I live over in Eternity’s Edge with my boyfriend,” Miriam smiled, pointing to the east. “Though, I arrived only yesterday.” The old woman’s face lit up.

            “Oh, you must be that Miriam girl David’s obsessed with. It’s good to finally meet you. Name’s Irene.” The old woman held out her hand to shake Miriam’s, grasping it with unexpected vigor. “To be frank, I thought he was making you up. He wouldn’t be the first man to pretend to have a beauty waiting on the other side of the sea for him.”

            “It sounds like you know him well.” Miriam blushed. “Did he really talk about me that much?”

            “Darling, he’d never shut up ‘bout ya. He’s a good fella himself, but he was in dire need of a hobby. Something to get you off the mind. Wait right there.” Irene dug through the back of her stall for a basket and loaded it up with fruit. “Here, a housewarming gift.”

            “Oh, you don’t have to…”

            “Shush. The little fella’s helped me out quite a bit these past few months. This is the least I can do.” Miriam grabbed the basket and bowed before walking off to find her partner. The market was the port town’s pride and joy. Locally grown and imported goods were sold to townsfolk and tourists alike, forming a popular hub in the center of town. Beyond the stalls was a large cobblestone courtyard where shoppers gathered to have lunch, go on dates, play games, or simply take a breather. In the middle stood a large, open fountain. Younger bigs would often run through it or bathe their feet in the water while tinies often used it as a swimming pool.

            On the trip to her new home, Miriam worried over how much attention she and Lanz would draw to themselves, but their relationship was a dime a dozen on the island nation. Not only were mixed size couples common in Birhamming, the locals’ entire way of life seemed to revolve around the blending of cultures. Most buildings were built to accommodate both sizes; doors had smaller entrances carved into them, restaurants had multiple seating arrangements for different party makeups, roads had divided sections for tinies to drive in, and people walked alongside those bigger or smaller on the sidewalks. Miriam knew that the two species lived peacefully in other parts of the world, but she could never have fathomed such seamless coexistence back in Baltzimar.

            “Wow, mister. That’s so cool!” a child exclaimed. Miriam found Lanz in the courtyard surrounded by tiny children. He was spinning a wooden toy gun in his right hand.

            “This is nothing,” he gloated. “Toss me yours.” Another kid threw his gun to Lanz. The former soldier snuck his finger nimbly inside the trigger guard as it flew through the air and spun it at the same pace as the other.

            “Mine too! Mine too!” A third child threw his toy into the mix. Without missing a beat, Lanz began juggling all three wooden guns. The group of children stared at him with wide, starstruck eyes. He could have kept it going forever were it not for a massive digit bopping him on the head, causing him to drop the toys onto the paved ground.

            “Showoff,” Miriam smirked.

            “I seem to recall you being just as giddy when I performed for you.” Lanz returned the toy guns to their owners. The kids were all trying to emulate their new hero, though none of them could get the trick right. “Sorry, guys. Me and the missus have some errands to run.”

            “Awwwww.” The crowd’s disappointment was palpable.

            “Next time I’m in town, I’ll show you all how to do it. Promise,” he said, waving.

            “Mister, is the strong, pretty lady your wife?” one boy asked, pointing up at Miriam. The couple’s faces grew flush, sneaking a glance at one another.

            “No, not yet,” Lanz answered, sending even more blood rushing into Miriam’s head. “But maybe someday, right?” Miriam grabbed Lanz and lifted him high off the ground.

            “Come on, we still need to find somewhere that sells radios.” Miriam and Lanz waved to the children and headed on their way. She perched her lover on her shoulder, offering him a raspberry from the basket she carried. “And a newspaper subscription. I love you, but we have to have something to do while we’re home. Oh, and we gotta find out where the nearest movie theater is.”

            “You didn’t answer my question,” Lanz jested, getting raspberry juice all over his face.

            “Let’s see if we make it to the end of year first.” Miriam leaned over and kissed him, wiping the fruit off his face with her tongue. “But, I can’t say I oppose the idea.” The two continued their trip through the market, exchanging pleasantries with everyone they met. David Pliskin had made himself quite handy around town, and everyone was excited to finally meet the fabled beauty from Baltzimar. The sun hung directly above in the clear, blue sky, signaling the end of the dawn and the beginning of a happy life.