—“Sooo booring”. Said Cantlutloche.

—“Soo hot” whined Fisotrano.

—“Soo whiny, you two”, complained in turn Mal-Jabloki.

The three young women were in the small park near their boarding house, playing catafis over an oversized tarp spread on the lawn. As befitted the very warm summer, they were dressed in rather revealing and loose garments. A radio on a leather holster, running on batteries, was nearby, broadcasting the latest hits with occasional interruptions from a radio announcer for commercials or news. A mostly empty bowl of fruit was lying nearby.

All these girls’ mood was rather surly, since they were quite broke. And the month was barely beginning. Paychecks from their jobs would be still a few weeks in coming. And most of their money had already went into paying a hefty fine they were slapped with because of a raucous party they had held just five days before.

They were outdoors because at this time of day their small shared apartment was simply too hot to bear. No money to travel, to go eat ice cream or amuse themselves whatsoever in this beautiful day.

- “I told you the music was too loud”. Said Mal-Jabloki.

- “I did not hear you”. Answered a sullen Fisotrano.

- “Of course you didn’t. You did not even hear the neighbors knock to complain; nor did you hear the patrollers.” retorted Mal-Jabloki. “That is why we are eating fruit in this lousy park instead of going to the beach with the guys. We’ll be lucky if we have a dime to spend on groceries by the twentieth…”.

Cantlutloche , or Tloche for short, was fed up with this quarrel and did not join in the bickering, which continued as an indistinct drone to which she was not paying attention. With a sigh, she lay on her back on the tarp, scooting on her back until she was out of the sun, choosing to be in the dappled shade offered by the Tolu trees overhead, their big, heart-shaped leaves rustling in the wind. Arms behind her head, she watched one of the red, fist-sized blossoms detach from a high branch and flutter to the ground lazily.

Tloche was majoring as a health professional but had always liked trees and birds. While her roommates squabbled pointlessly in the background, tired of arguments and fruit, she found herself thinking of a big, juicy steak (knowing one will be long in coming at this rate), and watched the birds fly around, trying to see if there were any new species she had not seen before. None were apparent. She then started to watch the trees, counting the species around her, when something caught her attention in a nearby branch of a Tolu tree. I’m bored out of my mind… wait a minute… is that a bird?

She sat up and looked intently at the branch. Something was crawling alongside it. A lizard? It was green colored, and with no wings in sight. It clearly was having difficulty navigating the spiny bark of the Tolu trees. But it was difficult to focus on it, backlit as it was. The shape and movements are really odd…

-“Um… guys?”

-“What?” the annoyed Jablo and Trano said in chorus.

Now Tloche was on her feet. Pointing with her slender, shapely hand, she signaled at the branch.

- “There is a really interesting animal up there”.

- “I don’t’ see anything”

-“It’s not big. See that white blotch of lichen there?  Follow it to the tip right past that yellow leaf with the hole”.

-“I still don’t see anything”. Said Jablo. An exchange student from the far West, she did not have good eyesight, and being an aspiring businesswoman, did not have much interest nor practice in observing nature.

-“Uuuuu! Is that a frog? Big! What’s it doing up there”. Said Trano in turn. She was an engineering student, and more curious than the unimaginative Jablo, or at least that how Tloche saw her. Coming from the warm North, Trano was not really a foreigner, like Jablo, but not a local like Tloche.

-“It does not look like a frog… the shape is all wrong…” By now Tloche was walking up to the branch. The animal had apparently realized it was being watched and was doing its best to remain motionless and inconspicuous behind a leaf and in the upper side of the twig it was clinging to.

-“It stopped moving” said Trano.

-“I want to see what it is” said Tloche decisively. I’ll jump to grab that part of the branch and will start to bend it down. Please keep watching the animal to see if it jumps and where it lands”.

-“What if it bites you?” said a disgusted Jablo. “Or if it pisses on you? Mi brother once tried to put a frog in my hair but as he raised it, it pissed right on his face!”

-“I’ll be careful… it’s rather sluggish,… it does not seem to be very agile” said Tloche, trying to disguise the fact that she had not considered such a disgusting but not entirely unlikely outcome.

It took two tries, but Tloche managed to catch a handful of leaves with her fist. Trying not to rip them right off the tree, she pulled carefully until she grasped a twig, a slender one with few spines. Then she continued to pull on the branch, trying to avoid being prickled with the spines, until the animal was close. But the sun overhead and the leaves did not let her see it well enough yet. Suddenly, the branch she was holding half-snapped. The two girls behind Tloche shrieked in chorus at the unexpected noise.

Tloche almost squealed herself, but she was too busy trying to catch the small thing that fell off the branch as it snapped. She gave a quick half-step forward, her two hands shot up and forward and… I got it! She exultated. It was almost weightless, warm and dry, very delicate and fragile in her half-closed fists, held together as a basket. Turning around to face her friends, and bending her head to peer at what she was holding, she started to open her hands, which were quivering in excitement, ready to close them if the little wriggling thing tried to jump off, ready to fling it away if it tried to bite, scratch or jump to her face. Her jaw dropped.

 -“Is that a…” started a squinting Jablo.

-“… man?” ended Trano.

****

Francisco “Pacho” Saldarriaga had just spent the worst night of his life. It seemed the day was not going to be much better. In the space of a few hours, he had gone from excited at being invited to a novel research project, to being on a doomed airplane he had to jump out of in the middle of the night, to be stuck in a tree until dawn. And now there were these three.

At dawn, his parachute had long been torn off by the wind from the branch he had fallen on top of. He thought things would be getting easier as soon as he could see better. Boy, was he wrong. the branch he was clinging to was full of nasty pyramidal thorns which quickly tore his pants and shirt in shreds when he tried to move around in the dark, so he was forced to just hang in there in the dark. Daylight showed him he was over 30 meters off the ground, above a very faraway grassland.

The branch he was in was one of the lowest, and the tree seemed to stretch infinitely upwards in the sky. Its trunk was incredibly thick and stout, and that was not even the biggest tree around that he could see. In the distance, he thought he could hear the sound of traffic and perhaps human voices. At least, he thought, I did not land in the middle of the jungle. But any hope of normalcy had quickly dissipated as he saw (and heard) the three women approach.

He watched them, in increasing terror, as they ambled by. They were taller than most trees he had known (until this day), with voices as loud as thunder, walking with ten-meter strides. They were laughing, chattering in a completely incomprehensible prattle. One of them, the dark-haired one, extended a maroon tarp big enough to set a circus tent on top of, and sat down to play with a kind of spinning top the red-headed one took out of her pocket. The blond one set down the bowl of completely unknown fruits she was carrying, and they set down to talk, eat and play. For hours. When will they leave?!

Although the branch he was in was higher than the giant women were tall, he judged they could still probably reach it with their outstretched arms, so he judged it prudent not to catch their attention.

His predicament would be far from over when the women left. The branch he was in joined at a fairly straight angle to the trunk of the very thick tree. The next branch was meters above. In the trunk, the spines were sparser than on the branches, and he was not sure he would be able to climb down over 30 meters to the ground just holding to such impractical and sharp foot and handholds.

Pacho was, however, not prone to either sulking nor panic. He just clung there, advancing slowly and carefully in the branch avoiding the spines, trying to get to the main tree trunk. He also looked down on the unsuspecting women. Even if they were of Olympian size, he could appreciate they were all quite pretty.

The blond one was the shorter one, if still probably above 20 meters tall, and waifish-thin. She had very pale, unnaturally yellow eyes, matching her silvery gold tresses, and deeply tanned, almost orange skin. The redheaded one was almost buxom, extremely well endowed in the chest department. From his privileged vantage point, feeling like a peeping tom, he could see very well down the dark cleft of her deep cleavage.  Her hair was cut rather short - barely reaching her shoulders. He could not see her eyes well, but they seemed to be blue.

The dark haired one had quite pale skin, contrasting nicely with her raven-dark hair, smooth as silk, reaching the small of her back. She was slender and nimble, with shapely arms and legs, well displayed by her flowing, sleeveless white beach dress (as were the curves of her breasts, seen under the holes of her sleeves. The dress was  attractively split down her skirt, showing a good deal of toned thighs and beautiful knees and calves. She was tall, serious, quiet and introspective, and apparently unwilling to participate in the animated nattering of the other two. She even seemed bored. Her eyes were dark and unsettlingly piercing and intelligent. Her small mouth was very red, her nose proud. Clearly, this girl had caught Pacho’s attention more than the other two young women.

As the hours stretched in forced idleness, he had time to relive the last hours and moments of normalcy he had lived. He had been invited a few weeks ago as a geophysicist in a monitoring flight of the magnetic anomaly that had been detected over the Caribbean. This was a suborbital flight, and the anomaly had been appearing all over the northern hemisphere, on and off, during the last two years, in a seemingly random pattern. It rarely lasted more than an hour before dissipating.

But Pacho had analyzed the wake of the anomaly and correlated it with his own measurements on the magnetic field of Earth. He managed to predict with a certain amount of precision the next appearance of the anomaly. So a team was hastily put together by the National Geophysical Research Institute in India, and he, as a former alumni, was invited aboard a research flight mission to perform measurements on the anomaly, hoping it would appear again where predicted by Pacho’s model.

Little did Pacho think that the anomaly would tear the plane apart even from a distance, and that he would be sucked out of it through a hole in the hull… towards a pink maelstrom that quickly and thankfully, faded before he went through it. Good thing Dr. Padhy had foreseen there could be dangers in approaching the anomaly and insisted all wore parachutes at all times. Pacho wondered if the plane had made it back safely.  Pacho was now also wondering if he had really been spared by the eldritch whirlpool. Clearly, he was not in the Caribbean anymore.

After a while, feeling like a voyeur, Pacho recommenced his slow crawl to the only opportunity he saw of getting down the tree. The next time he looked down, his blood froze when he saw the dark-haired woman was sitting up, looking straight at him intently. He almost pissed himself with fear when the female colossus spoke to her friends, pointing right at his branch; soon, the three mega-girls walked until they were directly below him.

Despite his best efforts, he knew his attempts at concealment were now futile, but he clung to the dim hope of being overlooked or that the women tired of catching him, so he made himself as small as he could, hiding between the leaves and on top of the branch. No such luck. Pacho’s stomach churned in panic as he saw the giant woman jump to grab the branch and start pulling on it. He held for dear life in mute and complete, abject horror at the huge but delicate fingers getting closer. He looked right into the dark eyes of an unfathomable, titanic being intent on catching him. So beautiful! So terrifying! He watched in wonder at the incredibly beautiful and pale visage of the giantess.

She squinted against the sunlight, thankfully still unable to see him clearly. Looking down in rising panic, Pacho still found time to gawk down her blouse, where the half revealed hemispheres of her breasts jiggled and bounced as the dark haired girl, with raised arms, jumped once more right below him, and then she started to pull carefully. I’m going to fall to my death and even now I’m getting a boner by looking at the biggest tits I’ve ever seen, was his last coherent thought before the branch snapped. The branch did not fall, but Pacho lost his hold and slipped off the branch, his pants tearing in a last, impertinent, defiant thorn. His stomach felt the sickening void of freefall. Thinking his family would never find out what happened to him, he only managed to utter a gasp before a pair of giant hands closed over him.

-“I’m telling you it’s one of those!” muttered Mal-Jabloki, looking around as if fearful to be overheard, despite the fact they were in their room, and the door was closed and latched.

- “Don’t be ridiculous” said Trano, “look at him! It’s completely harmless! Right, Tloche?

Cantlutloche did not answer; in truth, she was barely aware of her two roommates’ presence. She was completely transfixed by the miniature man looking up at them from the kitchen table. Is he real?!?

After she had uncovered him, Tloche and her friends had stared in disbelief at the green-clad minikin in her hand. Although it had squirmed like crazy when her fists were loosely closed over his body, once he was out, he froze like a deer in the headlights, mouth agape, looking up at their downturned faces in turn. Just then a group of kids and women ran into the park out of nowhere with balls, tarps and baskets with food, so Tloche simply covered the man again and half walked, half-jogged towards their room. Uncharacteristically, she did not pay any mind to her tarp, the radio or the bowl with fruit. Jablo, in character, went after her arguing, and Trano picked up the mess and ran after them.

Tloche had deposited the man in the kitchen table. By now the little guy was drenched in her hand sweat. His eyes were as wild as a scared rabbit, looking pale, but he managed to stand rather defiantly, looking up at the three women bending over to look at him.

-“In Bitagweh…” the two other women rolled their eyes. Jablo was prone to unasked-for rants that left it very clear she thought Easterners like Trano and Tloche were slovenly and careless. Bitagweh was not famous for their civil liberties, unlike the carefree Casibare, as Trano and Tloche. “they called these things the little people, and there is a standing reward, in cash, for turning them in; they are a menace!”.

- “Well, here in Casibare, we just thought your dear leader was even more of a kook than we thought”, said Trano, wryly. “Not happy with trying to find enemies everywhere, now he was also at war with fairies and sprites! Nobody in this side of the pond took that news about little green men from space seriously”.

- “Well, they are real enough”, added Jablo, pointing an indignant finger at the man. Tloche winced when the sudden movement of the petite blonde made him flinch. He already had his ears covered with his tiny hands. “they have advanced weapons and…”

- “Pshew!” Guffawed Trano “He’s dressed in filthy rags, dirty and scared out of its wits”. Tloche frowned at the casual use of “it” by Trano.

- “Don’t be so loud!” finally weighed in Tloche. “You are scaring him!” kneeling beside the table. Speaking almost in a whisper, she turned to the man and said “Don’t worry little man, you’re safe with us. I am Cantlutloche and these” she pointed in turn at the redhead and the blonde “are my friends Fisotrano and Petele Mal-Jabloki. what is your name?” she made extra-sure to utter Jablo’s full name, as she resented abbreviations, but…

- “Hey! You did not have to tell him my name!” objected Jablo. The little man, realizing what was asked of him, said something neither of them could catch in a wee voice. Seeing their frowns of incomprehension, he repeated himself louder.

-“Sorry, what?” said Tloche.

-“He said Paah-shoh something”. Said Trano. “I don’t think he speaks our language “. The little guy continued talking, clearly straining his voice to be heard, but the three girls just looked at each other and then at him, uncomprehending. His face fell. Tloche felt a pang of pity. Can’t imagine what must be going through his head right now!

-“Hi… Paah-tshoh?” said Tloche. She beamed as the little man smiled ruefully and waved at her.

Then Jablo, putting her glasses on, bent even more to get a better look, and gasped. “He’s bleeding!” the two other women kneeled in turn to each side of Tloche, cooing.

- “You’re right!” Trano said.

- “Help me out, Trano. Hold him while I take those rags off. My Gods, his boots are all bloody!” As Trano reached for him, the little man gave two steps back, before seemingly realizing there was no way out and simply stood there, looking warily at the approaching fingers. Tloche saw with dismay that his left foot left two tiny, bloody footprints on the table. “I’ll go get my kit”. She then darted into her room.

In the meantime, Trano had pinched the man by his midsection with thumb and forefinger, feeling him tremble under her fingers. She turned him delicately and made him lay on the table. Jablo and Trano’s faces grew even closer. She then changed her grip and slid her fingers up his body, catching his arms with her other hand and lifting them forcefully over his head, and then she pinned them to the table. Now he was sprawled over it, even more helpless. He did not try to resist.

Tloche returned, clutching a bright yellow purse. Placing it open near the table, she kneeled and looked attentively at Paah-tshoh, considering how best to proceed. The man was wearing  turtleneck, long-sleeved and close-fitting dark green-blue overalls, and had matching canvas boots, tightly laced with an unknown material. There were no buttons nor seams that she could see in his garments, but his left side was dark with blood down his left leg, and his boot was drenched in it. There was a ragged tear in his clothes near his waist.

-“How to get this off him?” She wondered aloud.

-“I think we’d better ask him to” Said Trano. “Ïn his place, I would shit myself if a giant ripped off my clothes with no words exchanged” Looking pointedly at Pah-shoh, she released him. He sat up, looking up at Tloche.

- “But he does not understand our speech!” said Tloche, too shrilly, she realized. She breathed deeper, trying to calm herself. Meanwhile, he continues to bleed, she fretted.

-“I remember our dear Jablo here was quite good in her first year at making herself understood with gestures and hand signs before she weaned off her Northish and learned to speak and write proper Casibar-kem”.

Jablo, blushing, stood up and, looking directly at the diminutive figure on the table, pointed at him and mimicked the act of unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it aside with a flair. They all giggled. To everyone’s delight, Paah-tshoh joined in, holding his left side gingerly. He looked in disbelief as his hands came up bloody, ostensibly noticing he was hurt for the first time. Then he reached into his turtleneck and slid his hand down to his belly. As if by magic, his dress split up, revealing a white undershirt and shorts. He stepped out of his overalls and put them aside, but as he reached to touch his wound, Tloche reached with her finger and prevented it, shooing his hands aside.

- “No.” she added, sternly. He acquiesced, sheepishly. “I’m going to need a repeat performance, Jablo, Sorry. I need him out of these filthy clothes”.

Rolling her eyes, Jablo did as asked. Looking up at them, wide eyed, the little man hesitated. Trano lifted an eyebrow and he shrugged and first he took his undershirt off. Then he stopped. Trano’s eyebrow climbed higher. Paling visibly, he turned aside and did as asked, quickly covering his crotch with both hands.

Tloche got her head closer and sucked air through her teeth. The other two women’s heads grew closer to the tiny man.

-“That looks ugly” said Jablo.

He had a nasty-looking gash running from his waist down his inner thigh, almost down to his knee. It did not seem deep, and had mostly stopped bleeding. Mostly. It’s not as if he has has much blood to spare in, thought Tloche glumly... his tiny, well made body. He was not overtly muscular, but was clearly fit, with noticeable pecs and a relatively wide chest. He was tanned all over, not a pale spot on him (does he sunbathe naked?). He had a very well-kept short beard. Her traitorous eyes wandered to his hands, covering… blushing, she averted her gaze, and as she looked to her roommates, she noticed they all were staring at the almost naked man in almost reverent silence. It stretched uncomfortably. Tloche coughed.

-“Trano, please hold him again. I do not want him touching his wound until I have dressed it properly. I want his hands out of the way”.

- “Right. Here I come, Paah-tshoh” said Trano in a small, unconvinced voice, her hands hovering hesitantly over the small figure on the table. He sat down.

Tloche then rummaged in her bag for a pair of tiny scissors, a small strip of adhesive finger bandages and cut a strip thin enough, she judged, to fit Pash-tshoh wound. She got alcohol and wound a bit of gauze moistened with disinfectant on the tip of a tongue depressor split lengthwise in half. When she turned to the man, Trano, her lips in a thin line, was pinning Pah-tshoh arms, stretched over his head. He was looking at the ceiling, blushing and avoiding their eyes. His legs were stretched over the table, rigid; despite his self-conscious attempts to be modest, his crotch was exposed and clearly visible.

-“Be careful, Cantlutloche, he is trembling like a leaf”. Added a very serious Trano, who was looking away. Jablo was gaping openly at the small naked figurine, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide, clearly unaware of the dumb face she was making. You do not mind staring at the cocks of alien invaders, do you?

Trembling herself, Tloche bent to the task. She took the chance to look covertly at the bird nesting in the man’s crotch. He was well endowed, so much that his member was going to be moved out of the way, so his wound could be treated, she noticed with an unwelcome but undeniable thrill of excitement.

When she was thirteen, she clearly remembered being at the movie hall with her parents. She did not remember what movie came afterwards, but she remembered clearly a short commercial flick that was played before. On it, a handsome small man, an adventurer, rappelled down the body of a young woman. He was small enough to fit in her hand.

The woman was dressed in a white shirt and tight, light blue slackers and was smiling mischievously at the little man climbing down her body. Tloche clearly recalled the tingling sensation in her breasts and crotch as she, breathless and flushed, watched the short clip play. Nobody seemed to find anything improper at the clip, and she was thankful for the dim light of the hall. She was never able to see the clip again, and nobody she ever asked about it recalled it. Looking at the naked man in her table, she again, ten years later, felt the same arousal, but now she knew what it was and what it meant. Desire. She realized, her breath catching.

Flushing furiously, Tloche reached out with her pinkie and tried to move the little manhood out of the way so it was not dabbed with alcohol. Pretty sure that he would not thank me for smearing his junk with disinfectant. Both Jablo and Paah-tshoh gasped in unison when she touched him there.

-“What happened?” a startled Trano, who had her gaze averted, looked down at the man she was holding down. “Oh my Gods Tloche, why are you…”

- “It’s in the way” said a flustered Tloche through her teeth, red as a beet. “It’s too big and I don’t want to rub alcohol in his… thingy”. The stubborn organ refused to remain aside and maddeningly, it quickly flopped back into place between his legs as soon as her finger stopped holding it aside.

- “I give up. Tlano, I will need you to hold it so I can dress his wound”.

- “Um…”

- “I need both hands”.

- “Right. But remember it was your idea”. Then Trano reached down with her free hand, and clumsily lifted the small member and held it pinned to the little man’s abdomen. He remained quiescent. All three women pointedly avoided looking at Paah-tshoh eyes. Tloche used her index and thumb to spread Paah-tshoh legs and started to dab disinfectant in his wound. She could feel him stiffen under her fingers, but he did not utter a sound. Then she started applying the adhesive bandage strip. His legs were quite hairy. This is going to hurt getting it off. Oh… look at his tiny balls… She was almost sorry Trano’s fingertip now had his pecker covered.

- “Er… girls…” Said Trano. “I think it is getting hard”.

- “No time for jokes” said Tloche, sweating under the strain of working on so small a patient struggling to get the tiny bandage in place, and trying not to let her disturbing arousal show.

- “Not kidding” Tlano took her hand away.  His penis was now standing on its own, far from its former floppy state.

- “Oh, for Heaven’s sake” muttered Jablo, still gawking unabashedly. “It looks like it hurts… are you sure you did not damage anything”

- “Not a chance; looks pretty normal to me. His girlfriend must be a happy girl” said Trano, wryly. Tloche, if possible, flushed even more with a surprising pang of jealousy. “You’ve gotta admit the gall of the little fella” continued Trano. “I don’t think many men would be sporting that in this situation… are you finished, Tloche?”.

-“I… am…” she muttered in a shaky voice. I sound pathetic. “I am”, she repeated more assuredly. Tlano took away her other hand. Paah-tshoh immediately covered his pudenda with his hands and lay there, eyes closed.

-“Well, this has gone far enough” Added Jablo, finally looking away. “Now we have to give him to the patrollers”.

-“Over my cold, dead body”. Said Cantlutloche, standing to her full height, and startling everyone, including her, with her cold, resonant voice. Even Paah-tshoh opened his eyes. “I’m not letting him out of my sight”.

Pacho sat on the giant plastic table, covering his ears. In front of him, a veritable pandemonium had been set loose. The three giantesses were squabbling aloud in the full volume of their thunderous voices. He was pretty sure they were arguing, in their foreign language, what to do with him. The blonde, Peteh-whatever and Cantlutloche (what a mouthful of a name) were the most vocal. The red one, whatever-Soprano, was trying, unsuccessfully, to mediate in the heated argument, arms as long as cranes waving around menacingly.

He had taken the time to take off his boots, feeling quite ridiculous with only those on. His clothes were nowhere to be seen. The stunning brunette took them away at some point. Sitting down he could cover himself better without using his hands. He ran these along the well-applied bandage in his leg.

A lot can happen in fifteen minutes, he mused. After he was caught, Cantlutloche had taken him to whatever abode these had. Through the gaps in the giantess’s clutches, Pacho managed to get glimpses of a tree-lined street, cars of an unfamiliar make and a flight of stairs as his captress ran as a madwoman, the other two in tow. Then he had been scrutinized, bandaged, cooed over, asked to strip, and even his prick had been fondled. And now three beautiful, huge women were fighting over him.

The girls lived in what was a clearly modest, shared student’s lodging, judging by the neat but cheap-looking furnishings. Along with a portable radio in a rather archaic-looking leather case,  the fruit bowl from before, and a porcelain cup, he was on top of a table. There were three chairs of each occupant of the small flat around a few photographs were on the walls. Beyond, open doors to narrow rooms, where only a cot, a small wardrobe and a desk and chair were the only accommodations. Besides that, a big window and the door they had all come in through. No bathroom or kitchen in sight. Probably somewhere else in the building, shared, he pondered.

Now that the unsettling attention of three pairs of keen eyes were not set on him, he had time to consider his near future. I have no fucking idea where I am or what I am going to do. Ni puta idea. He was also deeply ashamed by being naked in front of these strange women. And my prick chose this time to get stiff. At least they were (mostly) respectful. Trágame tierra. He put his face in his hands and shook his head, unsure of how to look at them in the face from now on.

They did not seem to have noticed he stole some glances at their chests as they bent over him before he was treated by the brunette, who obviously had some kind of medical training. The giant boobs were kind of difficult to ignore. The loose neckline of Cantlutloche allowed him to even glimpse a dark nipple as she bent to work on his wound. She was wearing no bra, and neither was the red one. Pete had a kind of strap around her modest chest. A veritable growl from Cantlutloche broke him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw Peteh glaring at him and then storming off the apartment. Next thing he knew, Cantlutloche grabbed him almost roughly and she stormed to one of the rooms, leaving behind a clearly flummoxed Soprano. She slammed the door so hard his teeth rattled.

She set her medical purse on her desk and him down carefully on her bed (it smelled like her) and started to pace her room as a caged tiger… or rather caged tyrannosaurus, biting the nail of her thumb, muttering indistinctly under her breath, looking around her room in quiet despair, glancing occasionally at him. His low vantage point treated him to peeks at her shapely, muscular but slender legs, pale as living porcelain, muscles rippling as she paced back and forth. Her unfettered breasts bounced rather distractingly with each determined step she took.

Despite the glower from the blonde, Pacho was warier of Cantlutloche. She was intense. Her tall, willowy frame concealed a springy, unpredictable energy and irradiated a powerful sexual allure. Her dark eyebrows, long eyelashes and huge eyes, black as coal, her proud mouth and chin had a fiery set to them that revealed an iron will, not easily thwarted. He suspected his future depended largely on what the passionate, pale girl would decide. With a mixture of fear and trust, he realized he was in awe of the giant woman. Her look of pity and concern when she was curing him was completely unfeigned.

Whatever had just transpired in the recent argument, he was sure Cantlutloche had taken his side.

His confidence in her wavered a little when he realized she had stopped pacing and was standing before the bed, wringing her hands and staring at him unwaveringly, biting her lower lip. Then, quick as lightning, she moved to her wardrobe and started to rummage in, pulling a dark pair of leggings and a matching t-shirt like blouse, too small-looking, both of which she draped over the chair.  She also rummaged in her medical purse and Pacho was startled to see she pulled a nasty looking, gleaming metal lancet, which she set aside; she also pulled a strange yellow pillow the size of her palm, a small bottle and a box of adhesive bandages like the one she put on his leg. What is she planning to do with that…? Soon after, she pulled a glossy magazine out of a desk drawer and flipped through it roughly, her back to him.

When she turned back to face him, Pacho saw, startled, that silent tears were running down her stunning face in twin rivulets, her face grim, her eyes defiant. He could hear the pitter patter of the tears on her chest. She was pale as death. What the hell is going on??  

Cantlutloche showed him the magazine in mute appeal, clearly distraught at not being able to speak about whatever had her that upset. It was open in a rather blatant spread ad of what looked suspiciously like one for military or police recruitment, as he could not tell which from the unfamiliar uniform and the unrecognizable script. He looked at it, stupidly, and then it dawned on him. They are coming! Probably called by that bitch Peteh…he realized with a chill of true fear. At best, life imprisonment, at worst torture and even vivisection could lie at the end of that road. He shook his head and looked imploringly at her.

A sob escaped her beautiful lips as she looked down at him, her face twisted in a terrifying grimace of utter, unspeakable gloom. Another thought struck him. He had to get away! There was no point in getting these women in trouble over him. They were clearly no match for a military search operation, and neither was him. But Cantlutloche surprised him yet again. Her expressive face recovered her steely set and then she turned to grab the lancet.

Pacho watched as she sat on the chair, crossed her legs with one ankle on her knee and grabbed the lancet. Cantlutloche rubbed alcohol, judging from the smell, on a cotton pad, wiped it on the lancet and then under her heel. Then she took the lancet in one hand and one foot with the other and, to Pacho’s shock, she plunged the steel blade under her heel. Dark blood welled up, and the giant woman quickly scooped up the strange yellow pillow and smeared blood all over it. What kind of alien ritual is this? Then she bandaged herself, with no outward sign of pain.

And then, even more shockingly, she grabbed the sides of her dress and pulled it over her head, leaving herself only with a rather oddly cute gray loincloth on, which he nimbly stepped out of, and tossed it on the chair, where her dress now lay. All 25 meters of naked, giant woman, were in front of him. ¿Qué putas pasa acá? What the hell is she up to????

He looked up at her in disbelief. Her magnificent, great breasts, jutting out of her almost a meter from her chest were capped by dark purple areolas, as wide as jumbo-sized paella pans. Her tits were heaving with emotion. He averted his eyes with difficulty, only to see her rather hairy crotch; he averted his gaze again, not knowing where to look. Apparently Brazilian style did not catch here, he managed to think before he managed to look up, only to look down again.

I’ve got to get away from all this! Unthinkingly, he ran and rappelled down the bed covers until he was on the floor. He realized it was really awkward to run with a raging hardon, but he did try. He reached the closed door, but realized with dismay that the gap below the door was not big enough for him to squirm through. The giantess watched his flight with her mouth open in incredulity before she muttered a curse and stepped toward him. His back to the door, he could only look up at the towering edifice of womanhood approach him, her breasts bouncing.

Pacho had some instants to look up her infinite legs, the underside of her buttocks, pressed together creating a crack dimpled with her anus, crack which continued to her meaty genital slit, the surprisingly long distance between the mound of her furry pubis to her breasts and between and beyond, her exquisite downturned face in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She talked to him soothingly and then her body descended as she squatted, hand outstretched to get him. His eyes zeroed in unthinkingly at her crotch, right in front of him. The last thought he had before being grabbed was that her clit was curiously large.

After a suspiciously long time, Cantlutloche emerged from her room, walking rather stiffly. Her face was flushed, and she was sniffling and red-eyed. This worried Fisotrano more than anything. In the last three years, since she met her, she had never witnessed the calm, collected Tloche, the “ice queen” shedding even a tear.

Tloche had changed into tight-fitting leggings and a likewise tight-fitting sleeveless crop top, both in matching black. The attire hugged the brunette’s gorgeous curves, leaving little to the imagination. She was barefoot.

“Going running or something” asked Trano, warily.

Tloche rubbed her face with her hands, breathed deeply and answered, a little shakily.

- “No, I’m not going anywhere until this is settled; with you as a witness that I haven’t left the room”.

“Speaking of settled, where is he?”

“Better if you don’t know, Trano”. Saying this, Tloche walked to the table, picked the little man’s boots and socks and, walking nonchalantly to the window, simply threw them away. “Plausible deniability and all that, you know”.

“Well, Tloche, dear. If you and Jablo keep acting this crazy, people will start to think I’m the normal one here. I don’t know if I can live with that”. Tloche chortled. “Seriously, what…”

They were interrupted by the door opening. Jablo was there, grim-faced, flanked by two even more grim-looking female patrollers, dressed in yellow fatigues. One of them had the blue cap of the ImSoc immigration authority.

- “Good evening, ladies”, the ImSoc officer greeted them. “I’m commander Nitladenila and this is patroller Coumo”. Coumo nodded in greeting and produced a notepad and pencil.

- “How may we help you, patrollers?”  said Trano, hoping she looked innocent.

- “Could we have your full names, please?”.

- “Matundhuno, Fisotrano, from Tungi”. Said Tlano, in the customary way of citing your name to an officer of the law, Last name first, provenance afterwards.

- “Parrotflock, Cantlutloche, local, born and raised here in Nanagheda”. The scratching of Coumo’s pencil on paper could be heard.

- “I will need you to produce your ID cards later. Before we continue, Nanagheda’s charter compels me to warn you that misleading, deceiving or giving disingenuous information to a patroller is a felony, punishable by either a flogging of no more than ten lashes to the feet or eight months in prison”. Admonished Nitladenila. “do I need to repeat myself?”

- “Acknowledged, patroller”, the three young women said, in the customary response. Fisotrano shot Tloche a warning glower, which the latter returned in a decidedly out of character pleading, subdued look. What the fuck are you getting us into? Tloche pointedly avoided looking Jablo in the eye. Trano could not help but notice that Coumo was blocking the exit door with her body, her billy-club holster was unbuckled and ready to come out. What a clusterfuck…

- “All of you attend Nanagueda’s University?”

- “Yes, sir”.

“Miss Mal-Jabloki here says you all saw one of the little people the Bitagweh have been raving about lately”.

- “That’s correct” said Tloche, startling everyone.

- “You’re serious?” said the commander.

- “Very serious”.

- “So you freely admit you have it here”

- “He was here”. Continued Tloche.

- “So he’s no longer here? Where did he go”.

- “Well, after…” Tloche added “miss Mal-Jabloki left, we tried to grab him, but he jumped from the table and ran on the floor, I panicked and ran into my room, closing the door. I do not know where it went after that”.

- “Well, miss Matundhuno what did it do?”

- “Beats me, I just climbed on a chair. I did not want him climbing up my leg or biting me”. Added Trano. “I lost sight of him as he ran to the door. Maybe he slipped under it, sometimes froggies and lizards have come that way”.

- “So you just left it escape?” said a flabbergasted Jablo. Nobody answered.

Coumo looked down at the entrance door. There was certainly a gap between the threshold and the door.

“What size was it?”

“I dunno, about this size, added Tloche, holding her thumb and forefinger apart about five inches”.

- “Where did you find it?”

Trano gave a brief statement of the way they had found the little Paah-tshoh and what happened afterwards, omitting any references to little penises

- “You mean there is a, five-inch tall or so man running around the neighborhood naked.” Said the commander in disbelief.  “He did not have any weapon or gizmo on his… person?”

- “No, sir”. Said Jablo. “But what about his clothes? He might have had something of interest in his pockets”

- “I did not see any pockets, and no idea” said Tloche. “They were right on the table. Honestly, I was too startled when he jumped off to notice if he was carrying anything. We argued for a bit before Miss Mal-Jabloki left to call you. He took advantage of that distraction”.

“You’re certain he was a ‘He’” said Coumo, dryly.

- “For sure” said Jablo, emphatically. “He had his thingy and all”. Coumo tittered until the commander shot her a warning look.

- “Yep. Anatomically correct, lemme tell you” added an earnest Trano.

- “And he said he was called Paah-tshoh? Anything else he said?”

- “That is what it sounded like. He did speak a bit more, but in a foreign speech. We could not understand anything; he also did not seem to understand anything we said. We communicated through gestures”.

- “Well, ladies” sighed commander Nitladenila. “If you had come at me with this wild tale two days ago, I would have laughed and showed you the door. But last day’s events have made the higher-ups order us to take this ‘little people’ sightings seriously”.

“What do you mean?” said a wide-eyed Cantlutloche.

- “I take it you haven’t been following the news”

- “Not really” said Mal-Jabloki.

- “Last night, there was a sighting of a fireball falling near the city hall grounds. Several people saw it. This morning, the caretaker of the city hall park reported a wreckage. Fire destroyed most of the device, but some parts detached on impact. It looks like it was a miniature airship: a little airplane seat was found, but no bodies. Parts of the fuselage with undecipherable script have been found. Somehow Bitagweh got wind of the incident and they have now shown Nanagueda’s government previously unseen footage of a similar aircraft climbing to high orbit in the middle of a blue flash a year ago. Looks like the little people are also somehow involved in the disappearance of a young woman in a shrine there, judging from artifacts found there. Remember those reading-screens that were all the craze a year ago?”

Everyone nodded. Those devices had revolutionized typewriting and phone calls.

“The inventor of those screens was the one missing. There is talk that it was developed with advanced alien technology, from the little people. We are now in high alert. There is talk of a possible alien invasion, if you can believe it. This is very real and very serious”.

The commander shook her head. “I’ve got twenty patrollers searching the neighborhood with bloodhounds. A special army unit is coming. I will now have to search the premises, for your own safety”. Coumo opened the door and two other patrollers entered, with a bloodhound. Cantlutloche stiffened.

 They started to register the apartment, methodically. They did not take long,  as it was a bit cramped, and there were not many hiding places. Even the dog looked bored. Nobody was expecting to find anything. They didn’t.

Commander Nitladenila sighed.

“Ladies, under the authority of the office of Immigration, Security and Smuggling Counteroperations I am informing you we are performing a Frisking Procedure on all of you, with all present as witnesses that it is lawfully and respectfully performed”. Putting her gloves on, she added: “This is your last chance of revealing any hidden contraband you have concealed in your persons”. Nobody answered. The three young women shifted uncomfortably on their feet. These frisk operations might be the rule in Bitagweh, but in Nanagueda and all of Casibare they were rarely performed.

“All of you, stand on a line right there. Raise your arms, hands open, palms facing me. Spread your legs a foot and stand still”. All women meekly complied.

Commander Nitladenila started patting them down with expert efficiency. Tlano flinched when the tall woman’s dark gloved fingers groped her breasts, and double flinched as she felt a hand lift her skirt, and her crotch, ass etc, was as expertly probed as was her every pocket. Tlano was now fuming, as she had never been subject to such humiliating procedure. I’m not sure if I am madder at Cantlutloche or the foreign bimbo right now. Last one to be frisked was Tloche, looking paler than ever. The commander ran her hands all over Tloche’s hair, and only cursory down her body, as her attire was much too tight for anything to be hidden anywhere. But the officer frowned as she slid her fingers over her crotch.

“What is that?”

For fuck’s sake Cantlutloche, don’t tell me you stuffed him there?!! Thought a now frantic Trano in disbelief. I knew her stance was weird. Men, even wee ones could make women do stupid things, but this took the cake.

Everyone looked at a flushed and trembling Cantlutloche as the ImSoc officer started to pull down the pale girl’s leggings, revealing her loincloth-less crotch, covered with dark, rather unkempt fuzz. By the gods, thought Trano, Tloche, havent’ you heard of razors? A fat sanitary pad came out and landed wetly on the tiled floor. It was dark, soaked with menses discharge. Cuomo wrinkled her face and the commander let go of the elastic on the girl’s leggings. She hastily covered herself with one hand, blushing furiously, while blabbing:

“ Er… I’m quite… profuse…. I need extra-absorbent ones, you see…” Commander Nitladenila cut her short with a gesture as she looked in disgust at her gloved hand, probably smeared with menstrual blood. She picked up the pad and handed it to Cantlutloche, who picked it gingerly with two fingers, holding it at arm’s length.

“Too much information. You might pull your pants up.” Cantlutloche complied. Sighing, he added: “Sorry for the disturbance. Patroller Coumo will leave our calling card in case you see anything of notice. Stay safe and keep us informed”. They all left.

“I hope you are satisfied now”. Said Cantlutloche icily, to Jablo. Trano, I’m going to the toilet... with that, she patted her wet crotch in disgust and left, walking awkwardly, still clutching the sanitary pad at arm’s length.

“No wonder she’s cranky”. Said Jablo. “Say, Trano, wasn’t her period two weeks ago?”

“Cranky does nott even begin to describe how I feel right now. I don’t care when anybody else’s periods are, Jablo. Since you started this mess, be a good girl and go get a mop and clean that off the floor before she gets back”.

Just when Pacho thought his life could not get any weirder, the giantess tried to shove him inside her vagina. As he had been doing since he was caught, he did not try to resist, knowing that his puny strength was no match for the whale-sized woman. If he struggled, her strong fingers might squeeze or pull too hard and injure him. He was juggled in her hand until he was upside down and she aligned him with her hole.

But it was not easy. She was too stressed and he was not rigid enough. Cantlutloche seemed to realize that she would need some lubrication. She lifted him to her concerned, flushed face. After some consideration, she licked her free hand and lathered his legs with saliva. This simple gesture was oddly arousing. Seeing her sexy mouth open, with thin strands of saliva connecting her tongue with the roof of her mouth, licking deliberately while she looked at him with her almond-shaped eyes made his loins stir. She noticed, eyes widening, a small smirk curving her lips. Then she licked her hand again and it was lowered. Wet, very sexy sounds were heard below and then he was lowered anew.

The giantess was squatting on the floor, her great, shapely thighs splayed apart. Pacho smelled the unmistakable stink of womanly arousal and he looked down which in his upturned position was actually up, at the hairy snatch he was being guided towards. Her intent face quickly was eclipsed by her furry pubis and her hand, holding her labia apart to accommodate him. Pacho realized the situation had to be really serious if the earnest, compassionate young woman decided stuffing a man she just met into her nethers was the only good option.

His feet made contact with her wet tunnel. He was relentlessly but slowly and carefully guided in, grunting. His first impression was right. Her clitoris was rather not long, but thick, even proportionately, almost as big as his head, and the thick flaps of her inner labia noticeably sprouted from it as wings. Soon he was up to his balls; his cock was almost painfully erect. He instinctively grabbed the dark pink tabs of skin of her flaring, rubbery labia and pulled. He sank in a few inches more. Tloche gasped and muttered something in a breathless voice.

Acting on a wayward impulse, he reached out hesitantly and lighty pressed on the bulbous prominence of her clit. Her great boddy shuddered and a protracted, delighted gasp was heard from the skies. Her index finger landed on his right shoulder and her middle finger in his left. They pressed lightly but relentlessly and soon he was up to his chest. He crossed his arms across his chest and neck and with a last, careful push from the giant digits he was up to his neck. Now all he could see was pussy al around. A few inches in front of him, the hole of her urethra and just beyond, her now decidedly bloated, palpitant clit.

Movement above caught his eye. As he looked up, he saw the titanic hand of the being he was inside clutching a small, yellow hand mirror. He tried to nod reassuredly to her worried, ashamed face in the mirror. She whispered something to him and her other hand appeared and lightly brushing his head, and then the hands retreated. His world lurched and then he felt, rather than saw, the small pillow from before pressing against the top of his head. The coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils. Then his stomach lurched in turn when she stood up, and then his world was plunged into darkness as she pulled up her leggings.

He felt her give a few tentative steps. I hope this is over soon… don’t know how much can I take. The heat was terrific, the blood was rushing to his head and the pressure on his ribcage only let him draw short breaths. He wriggled a little, trying to put himself in a more comfortable position, and felt her stumble and moan. The walls around him rippled and squeezed noticeably. Right… let’s not do that…for now.

Then he heard the door open, and the giant body he was in rocked as she walked gingerly out of her room. The voice of Soprano was heard, muffled through the layers of cloth, bloody pillow, pussy fur and pussy flesh. Not long after there were a lot of other noises and then several other giants, all female by the sound of them, clomped into the room. There was a lot of incoherent talking, of course.

In the meantime, another problem appeared. If before Cantlutloche was dry, now she was getting soaking wet. Gallons of thick vaginal goo started to flow around him, leaking around the small gap created in her vaginal opening by his crossed arms and shoulders. He had to move his head around to avoid the sticky fluid clogging his nose. The fluid pooled over his head in the pillow, clearly some kind of sanitary pad, and it was soon saturated by it. The smell was now overpowering, undeniably sexual. His cock twitched in the depths of the vagina, desperate for release, and very at home in the wet, damp darkness of her depths. He could not believe he was aroused in such a ridiculous situation, compounded by the mortal danger he was in.

He started to squirm, the uncomfortableness and arousal building up. The powerful contractions of the walls around him, responding to his every move dissuaded him from further efforts at comfort. Then something bumped his face hard through the pad. A finger? He thought, annoyed at the carelessness of the girl. If she pushed on his head, she could easily break his neck. Scraping sounds were heard and, to his alarm, light and fresh air flooded him as the pillow fell off. Eyes widening, he saw, dimly between the curtains of pubes and labia he was concealed in between, only legs of several giants dressed in the yellow uniforms he had seen in the magazine Tloche had showed him. There was even a dog in the room. Then something, likely Cantlutloche’s fingers, covered him again. Her voice, sounding embarrassed, was heard. Not long after, the darkness increased as he felt the elastic fabric of her leggings press against the top of his head. Much noise and a few agonizing moments later, the giantess started to walk again. He was now dizzy with lack of air, blood in his head, fear, exhaustion and sexual frenzy. The pressure was almost unbearable; it was much worse when she walked, as he felt as if he was in a grinder.

He must have passed out, because he woke as blinding light poured over his face. Looking up, he saw a floor paved with small, one-foot wide tiles, apparently a bathroom, and the giantess bare feet. She was squatting again inside a bathroom stall. Her fingers appeared and he felt her lightly brush the sides of his head. I hope she does not intent to pull me out by the head! He panicked and started to call out for her to stop. As he spoke, her fingers moved around him franticly, but she did not try to grab his head. Her anxious whispers came from above, increasingly panicky.

I can’t get him out!!! A desperate Cantlutloche realized after a few moments of squatting in the bathroom stall, as the weak voice of the man up her pussy pleaded with her, she trying to reassure him.

“Shhh… Shhh… just be still… I’ll get you out… just… don’t move… please”

Her fingers confirmed what she already felt: he was deeper than intended. He also felt too slippery, and she could not find any place to grab him beside his head, and of course she could not grab him there, he could die! I should have tied a string around his chest. But she had not thought of that in her agitation.

The enormity of what she had done was dawning on her now. I should have thought this through. She had taken a man… a man she just met and forcibly stuck him up her cunt. What was she thinking? What did it say of her as a person, as a woman, that the only plan she could come up with was so… obscene?

When he was all the way in, she had used her hand mirror to see the bizarre scene of Paah-tshoh tiny head barely sticking out of her, hugged by her labia. It was then she had been taken aback she had actually pulled such a aberrant stunt. Holy shit… what have I done… The worst was that she gave him no say in the matter, and she had no Plan B. Well, he seemed willing enough to go along, he gaped at your cleavage as if your tits were made of gold… one part of her mind said, the other replying, accusingly: you would have shoved him in there either way. And… There was no choice… they would have found him… another inner voice whispered. It was true enough that her silly gamble with the fake menses had, amazingly, worked… just barely.

He must think I am a huge slut, crass, disgusting… a monster… It was true that when he was atop the table, she deliberately positioned herself so he could see her cleavage… and she had gauged his reactions as positive. That encouraged her to go along with her plan. And she had felt such a thrill of… power? when she took her clothes in front of him… I saw his little thing rise as he looked at me lick my fingers to smear his legs with saliva… But it was true enough that before that he had tried to escape… it had been too long since she had been with a man…. thinking with your vagina is never a good idea.

And there was no going back now… she did not want to imagine what he must be feeling and thinking as he was forced inside a sloppy, stinky, furry giant cunt. Shuddering, she felt like she could die of shame… and she was so… hairy down there. She had postponed grooming as she had no money to go to the beach… why bother, she had said.  They say a prideful tongue becomes the whip of the fool.

After he was inside, her agitation had grown worse and worse as she felt herself get embarrassingly wet as he squirmed inside her. It was very difficult to think clearly when her vagina was demanding so much attention… when it was being stimulated so. When he touched her clit she almost screamed in delight. My gods, he feels so RIGHT in there… Every step she took increased the sensations. The few minutes with the patrollers were sheer torture. Her legs felt weak and rubbery, and her cunt spasmed with delight every time the little man changed position, clearly uncomfortable. She did not know how she managed to suppress the whimpers bubbling out in her throat. By the end of the patroller’s episode, sweat was pouring down her back, and she could feel moisture seeping between her legs, her clit on fire. She did not even have the energy to be mad at Jablo. She just wanted to feel more of her little man.

But coming to the bathroom had been a mistake. It was too far from her room, she had to walk too far and that was clearly dangerous for him: she could feel each step she took squeezed him. The bathroom was cramped, other girls were around and she did not have her medical tools. I should have gone to my room…there I could lay on the bed and spread myself better. By now Paah-tshoh was not responding to her words anymore, and he had stopped squirming. Suddenly, her cunt pulsated, and she felt him go deeper. Noooo! I have to do something now, or he’ll suffocate… be crushed inside me! There was no time to go to her room… Fighting down panic, she lowered her hands to her crotch and inserted the index finger of each hand on each side of her pussy hole, and spread herself so much it hurt. Then she concentrated on her vagina and squeezed from inside. She felt him slid out a little. Encouraged, she clenched again. He pushed out a bit. Progress was glacial, and after a few minutes of this, an eternity to her, his shoulders popped out.

Ahhh… she moaned, teeth clenched. There could be people around. His movements in her vagina were maddeningly good… so… difficult to focus…

She heard him moan in pain and then she felt his tiny hands pushing around her vulva, and squirming to set himself free, eliciting more intense and pleasurable pulsations from inside her. She lowered her hand just as in his struggles to extricate himself, his hand pushed on her clit and her pussy spit him out with a last, powerful and unexpected clench.  Cantlutloche barely managed to grab his slippery body before he hit the hard, mosaic floor. Her pussy throbbed, almost painfully empty.

Cantlutloche raised the limp, tiny form to her face laying on her left palm. His face was disturbingly pale, and she noted, alarmed, that his left arm was in an unnatural position. Dislocated? His whole body was coated in a sticky, transparent goo. His face, eyes, mouth and nose were also covered with the embarrassing stuff, dripping off him: he stank of vagina. She noted with chagrin that her vagina kept leaking the same fluids even after the little man was out. First, she used her fingers to clean the little man’s face, so he could breathe better.

Then, she took one of the wiping loofas and wiped herself until she was satisfied she would not look like she had pissed herself when she pulled up her leggings; the loofa seemed too coarse to clean him, though. She waited, anxiously, until he opened his eyes. He seemed to be exhausted, but he managed a smile and a tired laugh, and also he waved his hand weakly with his good arm. She laughed a bit also. This situation is so ridiculous! Glad that he was not angry at her, or worse, afraid, she stood up, pulled her leggings up in place. I’ll wash him in my room and we’ll have a look at his arm.

As her tight dress had no pockets, she just pulled her neckline aside and carefully lowered him there. He’s soaked! She though, embarrassed.  How can I face him after I did this? He was trembling. She got out of the stall, seeing with relief no one was around, washed her hands and hurried to the common kitchen to get a small pot and rags to clean Paah-tshoh in the privacy of her room.

As soon as she opened the door, Cantlutloche knew she was in trouble. Again.

Jablo was nowhere to be seen. The open door to her empty room showed she was not around. Fisotrano was around, however. Arms crossed under her breasts, face stern. The usually goofy, laid-back Trano was clearly NOT happy. Gulp.

“Cantlutloche. Mal-Jabloki went to a party with some guy. Good timing, ‘cause we need to talk”. Tloche eyed her room. “Now”. Added Trano, who caught the look. They both sat in the chairs of their dining table.

“I’m listening” said Cantlutloche.

“That little session we just had with the patrollers was scary. Scary as fuck! I should not have to tell you that, Tloche. You are older than Jablo and I. Of the three of us, you’ve always been the sensible, dependable one”.

“It was no cakewalk for me, either”.

“I know. But I don’t appreciate the fact that you put me in a corner and I had to lie to the patrollers, I don’t know how I came up with the baloney I spat out, but I did. I’m terrible at lying, as you know, but thankfully even Jablo bought the bullshit we both said. She was scared out of her wits of being deported. Now we have to stick to it, because this will not be the end of it, Cantlutloche. You know as well as I that those army people the commander spoke about are going to come poke in here again. And they will be prepared, not like the joke operation these patrollers put for show to keep the politicians happy. You following me?”

During this speech Tloche had been sitting very straight, wide-eyed, very conscious of a little man between her breasts, thankfully quiescent. She nodded.

“I don’t know what you did with the little guy” as Tloche opened her mouth to speak, Trano stopped her, raising her hand. “Or rather, I don’t’ wanna know: you were right about the plausible deniability. I know why you did what you did. I respect you for that. It took steel ovaries to pull it off. It took principles. But this is not a game, Tloche. We are talking about extraterrestrials coming to Lur, in fucking spaceships! way more advanced than anything we have or will have for years, if ever, with purpose unknown. Gods, I never thought I’d be using this word in an actual, serious conversation… extraterrestrials… so weird… anyway. Paah-tshoh could be just some lost guy whose ship just crashed on our planet on the way to the land of the loose purple wenches, or maybe he was just delivering interplanetary mail. Or he could be a military man, someone doing reconnaissance. He could even be some kind of robot or probe, recording everything we say and do to him!” Tloche blushed furiously and she covered her mouth with both hands. Trano continued:

“I keep thinking he was too calm, too collected! If I was in a planet of giants, I would be shitting myself! What I’m trying to say is that WE DO NOT KNOW why they are here. But, nobody sends very expensive, advanced ships out of a whim on a pleasure cruise to a faraway planet. Trips like this cost money, they are funded by entire nations pooling their resources, just like the old trading sail-ship companies did! They are here for a reason… who knows what they are capable of? All we can say is that they want something. And the ones that have crashed like that in Bitagweh are only the ones we know about. how many others are around, orbiting Lur, watching us?” Trano reached across the table and took Tloche’s hands. “I remember the news about that woman that disappeared in the sanctuary of Tchiah last year. She was an engineer like me!! I even read her column, translated to Casibare-kem in the local newspaper. Tloche! You could be abducted!!!” Tloche bowed her head. Trano continued:

“I hope you know what you are doing. But let me tell you something, Tloche. I’ll stick to the tale I told today, but listen to me, and look me in the eye when I am telling you this” Tloche raised her chin and locked eyes with Trano. “I will not tell any more lies. I don’t want to go to jail or to be whipped across the soles of my feet with a cane. We are not wealthy, you and I, Tloche… I only want to study, graduate, get a job and hopefully find a good man that is also good at fucking me”.

“Trano!” Tloche giggled, but stopped when she saw Trano was still serious.

“I did not come here all the way from Tungi to break my back serving tables and washing dishes to pay for college to end up messing with the armed forces, being whipped and land myself in prison where some 200 pound dyke makes me her bitch or a 80 pound junkie spills my guts with a shiv…. All for covering up for a pipsqueak that might not even be human, and that for all we know might be part of a plot to end the world as we know it!!  If you want to protect the little alien, you will have to do it entirely on your own. I do not want to see or hear from Paah-tshoh again. Don’t involve me or Jablo again in these affairs. Ever… because if you do… I’ll have to tell”.

Tloche leaned against the closed door of her room with relief. Finally, alone. She walked to her wardrobe and pulled out a small turquoise hand towel she was particularly fond of because of its softness. She carefully folded it and put it atop her desk. Then she tenderly extricated Paah-tshoh from the impromptu hammock created by the cloth of her top in the gap between her breasts, and deposited him carefully on the towel, and returned to the door, beside which she had put the small pot with hot water she prepared in the kitchen, lifting it and putting it beside the towel, and also retrieved from her closet a few of the remaining napkins she used to remove makeup. After that, she turned to him.           

He’s so tiny! His chest was, to her relief, expanding and contracting with slow breathing motions. He seemed to have been lulled to sleep, exhausted. He was still coated with her juices, now dried and starting to look slightly crusty. She wrinkled her nose. A surprisingly strong mixture of emotions flooded her as she looked at the miniature man. It all came back to her: The exhilaration she felt when she looked at him in her hands for the first time, recognizing him as not an animal but an impossibly tiny human being… how he felt warm and alive as she carried him to her apartment, how her breath caught when he spoke to her in his foreign tongue, how his eyes widened when looking at her chest… his naked body, and especially his lovely penis exposed before her hungry eyes… how she deliberately exposed her nakedness to the tiny man, his little cock rising to the occasion as he stood on her bed looking up, and of course, his struggles inside her womanhood…

She was getting wet again just remembering all that and seeing his body bare before her, again. But the shame she now felt at her unusual tactic to keep him hidden dampened her eagerness. Also, she could not ignore her more recent conversation with her friend. She had to admit Trano made some very good points.  She would need to ensure Paah-tshoh would learn Casibare-kem soon, so she could ask him about those things… and more. For now, she would keep him protected, and in her care. She could not believe he was an alien with a nefarious agenda, but it did not hurt to be careful.

Just to be sure, and to avoid any chance of him doing any shenanigans (like summoning an armed drop ship, an airstrike on the boarding house, or a host of killer robots, Gods, if a tiny man can exist why not those?), she had disposed of his clothes and he would remain naked as a jailbird, and hidden. There remained one week until vacations were over, and the next term began. There was time to get better acquainted with the tiny alien (if that is what he was). She would have to think, soon, where and how to keep him so if the army people really came, he was not in danger, and neither was she or her friends…

And afterwards…what? She did not want to dwell on that yet…

Tloche carefully picked the tiny figure with her left hand, sliding her fingers under him instead of pinching him and positioned him on her left palm. She wet one napkin and started to wipe her fluids from his body. He was positively caked in them, she noted with embarrassment, and it was not easy to clean him: his hair in particular required a lot of water and careful wiping.

He’s so fragile! She thought as she handled his head with her fingers while wiping it… I have to be very careful… it would be really easy for me to injure his neck or spine with just a casual squeeze or slapdash turn of my fingers… it’s a wonder he’s not worse off after the… number I did on him… What was I thinking? He could have died! What would I do if I had pulled his lifeless body from inside me? I would have snuffed a person’s life… and then what? Flush him down the toilet? Bury him in the park? What a horrible, casual way to go! Worse than a dog’s death… discarded just as indifferently as one throws away a used, soiled sanitary pad…

She noted his eyes fluttered half-open, but he did not try to resist her. Her breath caught as he said, almost inaudibly in his tiny voice:

“Cantlutloche…” and then he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. She remained there… her hand in her mouth… too overcome to move… why am I being so silly? Shaking her head, she continued working on him. She cleaned his legs and crotch trying to keep the detachment a proper health professional should, spreading his legs and cleaning his soft genitals without lingering there too much. She had to turn him, so he was prone on the towel to clean his back and backside, a smile dimpling her cheeks as she cleaned his tight buttocks. Nice ass…   As soon as he was clean, she then examined his left arm. It did not seem to be dislocated after all.

She noted, with mortification, that it was simply that apparently her fingernail had bruised his shoulder, probably when she desperately inserted her fingertips on her vagina to spread herself. He had a nasty welt there, but it did not bleed. She would have to keep her nails trimmed short. Her fingers probed other parts of his body, running her fingertips all over. Everything seemed fine, and he did not flinch from her touch. She also examined his former wound. By now he seemed to have fallen asleep again. His bandage had come off from the moisture of her vagina. It is probably still inside me… the borders of his gash were red and swollen. I hope it does not get infected from being inside me… she did not want to chance giving him any counterinfectants or painkillers, as she could not be sure his biology was exactly… well… human, and she had no idea how to calculate safe dosage. Is he a little too warm? No way to check his temperature reliably...

She prepared another bandage like the one she prepared earlier. She ran into the same problem with his penis, again in the way. This time she was bolder, but when she tried to pinch the fleshy stub between her index and thumb, to lift it, she failed. Looking closer, she saw it was still stuck to his balls by dried vaginal juice. Thinking quickly, she moistened in her mouth her fingertips and carefully rubbed the fleshy knob until it came loose from his tiny ball sac. To her delight, his manhood responded to her touch by throbbing stiff. She reluctantly released it and applied the bandage, as now the way was clear.

After depositing Paah-tshoh back in his towel, she watched, fascinated, how the miniscule manhood slowly grew limp again, laying between his legs. Her fascination grew as she saw how her balls seemingly reacted to being exposed to the air, moving inside his scrotum. Then, his hand descends to his balls and he nonchalantly scratched them… (she barely suppressed a giggle) and then turned to his side and kept napping.

Cantlutloche remained there on her knees, watching the little man sleep atop the towel, atop her desk, for a long time, her thoughts a jumble of wonder, regrets, hopeless fantasies and hesitation, even fear, especially for the future… his and mine... how long can I keep this up wrapped without… bringing disaster on his and my head, and maybe my friends Jablo and Trano?… four lives now depend on me NOT dropping the ball. Then, she pulled on a drawer of her desk, retrieved some oddments from there to make room and afterwards, carefully lowered the towel there, with the little man atop it. She closed the drawer, locked it and hurried out of her room. She needed to go to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for her and Paah-tshoh, and she desperately wanted a shower. For the first time in three years, she locked the door to her room when she left.

Pacho woke up groggy and disoriented, and in almost total darkness. At first, he did not know where he was, and he could only feel a vague sense of unease. He lay there for a while, trying to order his thoughts. The air was stale, smelling of wood, paper and other things related to stationery.  Closer, there was a also a strange, flowery smell all over him and in the mattress he was lying on top of. His eyes were gummy, and he felt also uncomfortably gummy behind his ears, between his fingers and other crevices of his body. He craved a warm, long bath. His ribs hurt. His left shoulder throbbed. His leg itched.

The next thing he noticed was his total nakedness, which was not unusual for him, as he used to sleep like that when the nights were warm, and it was warm, almost uncomfortably so. Slowly the images of giant women and all that had transpired in the last day started to come to the front of his mind, and he fully acknowledged that, as ludicrous at it seemed, it was not a dream.

His quest for understanding stratospheric phenomena like red sprites had payed off beyond his wildest imaginations. He had always suspected that there were magnetic phenomena associated with sprites and now he knew first hand that these phenomena did occur.  He managed to model when they would take place. But never would he have thought that one of the consequences of these anomalies could be translocation to other realities. Because that is what had to have happened to him… the plane he was in, and the crew. Giant people, talking in unknown tongues and with unrecognizable script, judging by the magazine he had been shown.

I cannot go back. The realization hit him like a kick to the teeth. He was in a world that was very similar to 20th century’s Earth. There were cars around, but rather rustic personal electric appliances. He did not remember if there were light bulbs or switches around, but they probably were. The girls that caught him had no cell phones, or other personal electronics like cameras or such, besides the radio. He also saw no phone, but as the blonde giantess Peteh had gone outside the apartment to call the police, there probably were similar devices in a common room or public ones outside the building.

But here, there were likely not space flights yet, and even if they were, getting into one would be next to impossible, not to mention doing that at the right time and then steering it towards a vortex like the one he came here through, on his own. Even if he could somehow work the controls, and he doubted he could even climb to the cockpit seat or the dashboard, he was a physicist, not a pilot. He would have to convince someone to help him. And even if he did, how could he know if going through the anomaly again from this side would get him back where he came from? He could land just about anywhere, including in deep, deep space, or a barren, uninhabitable planet, to starve or suffocate. Even worse, should he be certain he would be back on Earth like that, should he inform a planet of powerful, giant beings, where to find a planet of tiny midgets, probably relatively easy to conquer?

On another note, the sanitary facilities he had glimpsed were unfamiliar, vaguely similar to Eastern-type toilets he had seen when studying abroad in India, little more than a kind of trench in the floor with running water, trench you straddled to do your business.

The ethnicities were mixed-up, as evidenced by Peteh odd-colored skin and eerily, ‘unnatural’ (probably quite natural in this world, though) yellow eyes, and the blue-eyed redhead Soprano, as on Earth, his Earth anyway, redheads usually had green eyes, or maybe brown, but he had never, ever, seen a blue-eyed one.

And there was Cantutloche, or Tloche, as the other girls called her. Maybe he found her more attractive because she was the most ‘normal’ of the three, at least on the outside; she was not just pretty, but truly stunning. But she was also not a conventional woman, as first demonstrated when she had found him with her penetrating gaze. Most people did not look up; he doubted the other two women would have discovered him.

Tloche was incredibly brave, resourceful and kind. She had protected him, even if in a very unusual plan that she came up with quickly. And he had seen her in all her glory. Up close and personal, from her own volition. From the beginning she took charge of the situation and of him, going against her friends: she even put aside modesty to shield him, though clearly embarrassed, and quickly invented a diversion to prevent a more thorough search of her person.

And therein lied the problem. She was smart, powerful, strong-willed. There is no escaping her. I am now the pet, the toy of a giant woman. He could not deny the intensity of her eyes when she looked at him. There was compassion in those big, black, bottomless eyes, deep pools of resolve indeed. But there was also an undeniable possessiveness there, a fixation. She clearly had no intention of letting him go. And indeed, escape where?

That little incident with the local constabulary had proven he was not likely to be warmly received by just any giant. He could be stepped on, even inadvertently, very easily by anyone, as he was mostly stuck being at ankle-level. The police dog he had seen was as big as many elephants. If he was caught by just about any animal, he was unlikely to survive. Naked and weaponless as he was, even a rat or a bird could bite or peck him to death without breaking a sweat, not to speak of wasps, bees or who knew what else that this accursed world had evolved.

He shuddered at the thought of being found and grasped by a giant, naked man, lumbering and coarse, instead of being caught by a dazzling, nude Cantlutloche. Indeed, it could have been A LOT worse, as it likely had been for those others that were in the plane with him… he did not want to think about them, as there was nothing he could do. Trying to dispel these thoughts, he stood up and started groping around, finding a few things, unrecognizable in the dark. There were long paper things, probably envelopes, thick, heavy glass vials that smelled of ink and other unrecognizable scents, metal blocks, long, thin cylinders wrapped in cord. These things, and the thin slice of light above, made him deduce she had stuck him in a desk drawer.

The sliver of light was interrupted in the middle, which indicated a locking tab was in place. Probably locked for other giants, as even if unlocked, he had no hope of sliding open the hundreds of kilos of heavy timbers (plus contents) of the drawer on his own. Whatever the reason, it was but another reminder that he was no longer a free man. How long had he been inside here… and how long will I stay inside this drawer, like a trapped mouse?

Long minutes passed. Then dozens of minutes. With nothing to do, getting increasingly afraid, thirsty, hungry, angry and uncertain, he found himself going over his giant warden on his mind. She stuffed me in her vagina. He kept recalling the disconcerting situation he would not have imagined ever to be in, not in a million years.

The bewildering perspective of looking up, which was really down, at her dainty feet, so far below, his face being surrounded by the fleshy, musky flaps of her labia and her pubic hair one handspan long all around, her juices flowing all over him, all these things enveloping him in the smell of woman…

How deep she was… how she pushed him out. He did not remember how they had made it back to her room.

Pacho remembered how he had lied in her hand as she cleaned him afterwards, him barely conscious, seeing giant, nimble and beautiful, womanly fingers run all over his body, and holding his head, her eyes intent above, her hair cascading around her face, almost reaching him, how she frowned impatiently and tucked strands that got in the way behind her lovely ears as she cleaned him. He found himself wanting to see her naked again, at leisure, having time to scrutinize her as he had been examined atop the table. To touch her and be touched. Thinking this, at some point he fell asleep atop the towel 

He awoke startled as light flooded in. Cool, giant pale fingers scooped him up unceremoniously, all five pressing softly all around his torso from over his head and lifting him, to be deposited carefully atop the table. He stood there, covering his crotch with both hands, as he looked up at a wet-haired Tloche looking him over keenly. Is she going to keep me naked all the time? She smelled rather strongly of soap, clearly just out of her bath. She practically irradiated freshness.

After a brief scrutiny, noticing he was uncomfortable, she blushed and reached behind him on the table. Pacho tried not to stare at the 6-meter-wide hips of Cantlutloche, her thighs and especially at her crotch right in front of him, or a giant breast looming closer as she extended his arm above him. She was dressed in short white pants and a tight-fitting white off-shoulders top, with no cleavage. Nevertheless, her perfectly shaped torso and very protruding breasts were equally difficult to keep his eyes off.

Tloche produced from behind him and delivered a small bundle of purple, velvet-like fabric into his hands. Puzzled, he unfolded it. It was a small pouch, of the type used to put in small jewels and like stuff, like earrings, complete with matching string around the mouth to close it. Tloche had cut two holes on the sides of the bag. Pants? He tried them on, slipping a leg on each side hole. They more or less fit, although of course the color and the look were less than manly, and the fabric was comparatively too thick, but at least it was not coarse. He looked up to see the giant woman cover a smirk under one shapely hand, eyes sparkling. He was tempted to frown and sulk, but as he looked into those big, innocent eyes, he just could not do it, so he simply threw his hands up in defeat. Booming laughter ensued. When she calmed herself, she indicated, behind him, a small dish with berries, some unfamiliar pieces of pastries and some minced vegetables, complete with water in a bottle cap.

****

Cantlutloche ate and watched in quiet amusement as Paah-tshoh fed himself with his little hands, eating with an appetite that belied his size, sitting beside his dish and taking enormous (relative) bites out of everything, like a tiny caveman. Despite her apparent calm, Tloche was very worried. While on the kitchen and on the way to the library, she encountered several women of her boarding house who intercepted her to ask about the patroller raid. Fortunately, not one of them had the slightest inkling of the reason for said raid, but surely the University’s dean had already been informed.

She would have to come up with a plan to hide Paah-tshoh somewhere. Classes would start soon, and the weekend was also over. Tomorrow she had to go to her job in the library, and she could not let the little man locked in a drawer all day, entirely on his own. She had been worried sick for the hour or so that it took her to shower, go to the library and back, to the kitchen and back at her room, time in which her protégé was all alone in the dark, probably terrified. He will have to be with me at all times from here on… she pondered. No other way. It’s just not safe for him to be in my room alone, and that is the safest place I can think of. Outside, even a stray cat could end him.

She winced as another cramp stabbed her. Annoyed, she realized her period was coming, confirming what her loose and gassy bowels had hinted at earlier, before getting into the shower. She had kind of lied to Jablo about having her period when she invited her to a double date a few weeks ago, so she left her alone, because Tloche was not in the mood to go anywhere. Having her period and being gassy was not exactly a winning combination when being forced to be in a narrow room with a man one fancies. And I do fancy Paah-tshoh, she realized, baffled.

The little man was definitely a looker, fit and oddly confident. He seemed to take his definitely unusual and disadvantageous situation in stride. He did not sulk nor cower. And he trusts me, despite… She decided she would be worthy of that trust from now on, as before she had acted on impulse… rather selfish impulse, claiming the intriguing Paah-tshoh as her own, gawking at his nakedness, fondling him as he lay helpless… and going so far as to use him to kind of get off…

She was not entirely sure her plan to hide Paah-tshoh inside her was not a subconscious way of fulfilling long-forgotten fantasies. It probably was, since she had definitely enjoyed making him touch her, and right now she was craving for a repeat performance. Just thinking about having Paah-tshoh warm, firm body rubbing… Stop! Let’s just be thankful he did not seem to take it against you… no way that’s gonna happen again. But even as she thought this, another part of her mind was plotting to cajole and seduce him so next time, and soon, he would be going where she wanted him to be… where he had already been so welcome… and she hoped he did so not only willingly, but begging to be let in.

Pacho ate ravenously. Everything was good, though the taste was unfamiliar. Tloche was eating mostly the same, too, from a bowl. Watching the giant woman eat was both mesmerizing and petrifying. She munched prettily chunks of the pastries and took large bites of a (giant) fist-sized fruit. Each bite would easily tear my body in half, he mused. She gulps more than a hundred pounds down her gullet and still manages to seem ladylike. After a particularly noisy bite at said fruit, she noticed Pacho had stopped eating and was staring, mouth agape. She looked at the damage she had just inflicted onto the fruit and then at Pacho. She blushed slightly, apparently realizing how she must look to his tiny eyes but continued eating.

When they both were finished (she finished first), she took the leftovers away and then she stood up, holding something behind her back. Again, Pacho had a hard-time trying not to stare at her exposed legs. In particular, the curve of her thighs just before joining her crotch was very enticing. He looked up with an effort to meet her eyes. As soon as he did, Tloche produced a book. She set it down on the table. It was a bilingual picture book.

Pacho stood and walked to it as Tloche opened it carefully. It depicted everyday situations and objects with captions in two different scripts, both unfamiliar, one squarish and other rounded. Pacho was not sure which was the one of the magazine Tloche had shown him earlier, that is, the one native to this particular province he was in. In any case, he could not read either. But the discerning Tloche had thought of everything.

She flipped through the pages and reached some of the last ones of the booklet, where a table of the roundish characters was shown. Then she pulled open the drawer he had been into and produced a thin rod wrapped with purple cord and a small (to her) notepad, setting them in front of Pacho. It took a moment for Pacho to realize the rod was a kind of pencil: the point came out gradually as you unraveled the cord.

Then she put her finger to the first column, first row of characters of the picture book and said: “E” then she slid down her finger to the next row and said “KE”, and then she kept sliding her finger down and uttering “TE”, “TRE”, “TLE”, “CHE”, “SHE”, “TSE”, “SE”, “ZE” and so on. It’s a syllabary, Pacho realized. She is going to teach me how to read and write. He lifted the pencil and got to work. Tloche smiled as he started to write his own equivalency table into roman characters on the notepad. As he looked up at her, she continued dictating.

Tloche sat there watching with a smile at Paah-tshoh flipping through pages of the book and consulting on his newly-made character table. He was starting a vocabulary table of his own. He was thoroughly engrossed in his work. But Tloche was now feeling decidedly unwell and she wanted to change ASAP into something NOT white and put on one of her sanitary pads before any accidents occurred and she stained her clothes. Normally she would do it in her room, but of course she could not (should not, she amended mentally) pull down her shorts and do that in front of the little guy. And, small as he is, who knows if he can… well… catch that smell once it starts to flow… don’t wanna find out…

She stood up from her chair, and walked to the wardrobe, collecting the black leggings she had worn earlier, a new, dark loincloth, a sanitary pad and a small vial of perfume, trying to block what she was grabbing from Paah-tshoh’s eyes. Then she walked to the door, opened, and walked out, with an apologetic smile at Paah-tshoh, who had stood and watched her go, concerned. Again, she locked the door. Gotta be quick, can’t take him with me to the bathroom… this time, and I cannot put him in the drawer right now… he would not thank me for that, that’s for sure.

Tloche was not gone very long. When she was back, Pacho noted with surprise she had changed back into the black, close-fitting suit. She was paler than usual, her face drawn. She smiled at him, but she was clearly unwell. She lay down on her bed on her side and kept looking at him as he worked. The next time Pacho turned to look at her, her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and regular. A while later, Pacho stopped writing, his back and arms aching from holding the giant pencil. What time is it? He was pretty sure it was over twelve hours since dawn on that damn tree branch.

He realized there was no way to measure time in Earth’s units, as he had no watch, and his cellphone and tablet were aboard the plane, now lost too. He would have to adapt to the local’s measure of time. Tloche was still asleep, but now her back was turned to him, long hair draped over the pillow. The curve of her hips and waist was very alluring, indeed; the leggings hugged her butt, showing off her round buttocks, as she was in a fetal position. He recalled how her already pale complexion had become ashen during the day. A sudden thought coursed through his head… is it possible that I brought some disease to this world? It would be terrible if he was the cause of the death of his benefactress.

Deep in these gloomy thoughts, he sat on the notepad and watched Tloche sleep…. Such a lovely face she has! How many hours till dark? And would the night be as long as the day? He got up and walked around the table. No lamp. Looking at the ceiling, he saw a ring contraption that could perhaps be a lightbulb. No sign of a switch anywhere on the walls, though. The window was too high for him to see anything but blue sky. A walkaround on the table confirmed there was no way to climb down, and it was close to ten meters high. Now that he thought of it, he was not sure being on the floor was a good idea. It was too easy to be stepped on. But what if he needed to take a leak? Or number two? ¡Qué maricada! Stuck as a marooned sailor in a desert island… within sight of the continent. The continent of enthralling womanhood.

The drawer was closed and out of view, along with his makeshift bet. A few hours ago, he would have laughed at the idea that he would want to get back inside that dark wooden box, but if Tloche was sleeping, there was little to do besides getting some rest himself. He was done with studying for the day; his experience with language learning (he already spoke Spanish, English, Hindustani and a smattering of others) told him it was useless to learn more words for today, he could only assimilate so much in one sitting.

He called for Tloche in as loud a voice as he could manage, but she did not stir even a bit. The distance between the table and the bed was perhaps under a meter and a half (giant) meters, but to Pacho it might as well be the Grand Canyon: no way to leap across 15 meters. Annoyed, he flipped the notepad, which was roughly bed-sized, to a blank page and lied down in it, and closed his eyes to get some sleep. After some consideration, he took off his purple velvet pants, rolled them up, and using them as a pillow, he laid back again.

****

A cramp woke up Tloche. She sat up on the bed, wrapping her arms around her abdomen. It was already nighttime, and dark. It was quite hot and humid. She could feel the sweat under her neck and between her breasts. Paah-tshoh!  She groped for the light switch attached to the bed post and turned it to a dim setting. Paah-tshoh was lying on the notepad, fast asleep, seemingly not bothered by the light.

He was naked, using his pants as a pillow, but lying on his side, so she could not (regrettably) see his penis. That looks so uncomfortable! Poor guy… how long has he been like this? Turns out I’m not so great a host… She went to her purse and produced her pocket watch. Five hours… Shit… She decided not to put him back into the drawer, not now and not ever. What if I’m detained or something happens to me outside the boarding house? He would starve to death in there. She carefully pulled the drawer open and picked up the towel. She set it down besides the notepad and carefully transferred the limp figure to the towel, pillow and all. He did not stir.

She looked back at her cot, so narrow. She was not a quiet, tidy sleeper. She knew she tossed quite a bit during the night. I wish I had a bigger bed. The words of Trano came back to haunt her: We are not wealthy, you and I, Tloche. She longed to put his bed on a bedside nightstand that she could not afford, did not have and would not fit in the room anyway. It would be better if she could set him in a pillow near hers. But doing that in her narrow, broke student bed would be dangerous, she could send him flying with an unconscious toss, to broken bones or worse at the foot of the bed. Or she could be crushed, smothered under her. Not to mention it would be too forward… we’ve barely talked besides some gestures.

Then again, leaving him asleep on top of the desk felt wrong, like sleeping on the middle of an empty sports field, too exposed, too forlorn. For sure Paah-tshoh had friends, family (a wife?) back home. A home he would not be coming back to, possibly ever, unless a rescue party came his way, which was admittedly not impossible, but unlikely. So many things to ask him… we are, after all, strangers to each other… yet. Struck with an idea, she put the chair, companion to the desk, near the bed, and transferred Paah-tshoh to its center, carefully. Then she changed into her sleeping shorts, checking her sanitary pad, which confirmed that time of the month had indeed come, all the while stealing nervous glances at the tiny sleeping figure to see if he was copping a look, but he was completely tranquil in his slumber.

Standing bare-chested beside the chair, she looked one last time at Paah-tshoh before deciding, unlike most nights, to wear an old top despite the heat. She made a quick exit for the bathroom to take care of some feminine hygiene and to take a leak. When she came back, soon after, the little guy was still asleep. She reached, as quietly as possible, into her wardrobe for a clean, silk handkerchief. She kneeled near the chair, and giving in to an errant impulse, she lightly kissed the tiny, naked form before covering him with the insubstantial cloth.

Forcing herself not to linger there staring… and touching some more, she climbed into bed and dialed the lights off, before covering herself and drifting into sleep as quickly as only the young can, utterly unburden with regret.

Pacho did not sleep badly. In fact, he slept quite well, but the night was awfully long. He awoke several times, annoyed because he had no way to know the time, only to fall asleep out of forced idleness and boredom in the dark. Amidst the dimness of the rom, he could make, to his right, the hill of blanket and giant woman underneath. The air in the room was stale and much less than fresh, and this time nobody could blame him. Thank god we did not have beans for dinner, thought Pacho, wryly. At some point she had transferred him to the chair, and was even kind enough to cover him with an improvised blanket.

Sometimes he woke on his own, and sometimes he woke because of the noise Tloche made. This last time he woke up startled, and wondering what had happened, as a glance at his lovely roommate only showed a still, unmoving breathing knoll. Then she uttered, probably not for the first time, a decidedly unladylike (but very sexy), long moan. What the putas was that?  Pacho burst out laughing, before covering his mouth, not wanting to wake her.   Whether because of the sound Pacho made or because of the previous agitation in her dream, she groaned, grunted and shifted in the bed, which creaked like an old sail ship under her titanic weight.

When she finally settled, Pacho could make out a pale, shapely calf and foot, sticking out of the covers and the mattress as she lay apparently prone. There was another noise, much less sexy and even less ladylike, and which immediately increased the sourness of the room’s atmosphere quite a few notches. Pacho started to sigh, then decided against it. I know the word for that, he chuckled to himself, as the picture book brought by Tloche, from a library, judging from the markings on the book, was surprisingly earthy, and there was the unmistakable illustration of well, an old… guy doing his thing. No mistaking, as the word was rather onomatopoeic. Thinking of oddities like these, in the end, he fell asleep again.

The next time, he awoke to a sweet voice calling his name from above in a lilting, beguiling timbre:

“Paah-tshoh, Paah-tshoh, anebé tsissoko nah. Anebéyah”.

Pacho opened his eyes to see the smirking, gorgeous face of Cantlutloche hovering a few meters above him. I could get used to see this first time in the morning he thought, looking in wonder at the beautiful woman, playfully nagging him for oversleeping, teeth gleaming white. She impishly tugged at the covers, but he, laughing, pulled them back, as he was naked under the huge handkerchief and had a hopeless case of morning-wood he did not want her to see. Self-evidently, she did not really want to yank the covers off, offering some (obviously token) resistance before letting go and whispering a string of gibberish he could not pick up a syllable of, in her unfairly stimulating voice. She smelled intensely of perfume, almost cloyingly.

Ignoring her, he covered his head and whole body with the cloth and pulled on his makeshift pants. Then he emerged. Tloche had already gotten ready for going out, and she was dressed in a rather plain khaki, short-sleeved livery which rather reminded him of a museum or safari guide, complete with shorts and matching long socks. She had only minimum makeup, hair tied in a bun, and an oddly-cute black cravat, which of course, he thought, more than a little disheartened, meant no cleavage. Despite the basic attire, she looked radiant… and very young.

How old is she? If she was from Earth, he would not give her more than twenty, which was not so far from his own 29, but as large mammals (which she obviously was) live longer and grow slower than small ones (such as himself), she could be even older than him, in Earth’s reckoning, and he suspected this world’s years were, as the days seemed to be, noticeably longer than Earth’s. And…  he could be wrong, and she could be a minor, maybe even fifteen or less, not even a senior in a boarding school… he thought guiltily. Maybe the uniform was a high-school’s? No way to know, for now. Haven’t been that far into the book.

There was something he DID know. He had to take a leak. A big one, in fact. But for this he was prepared, as the unpretentious book had already taught him. looking up at her looming, standing near the chair, arms akimbo (it’s going to take time getting used to always be looking up people’s noses), he said:

“Tloche, suimnase, shikko sanakia zu”

This seemed to take her off guard, as she, flustered, flushed red as a beet. My god… she blushes so readily! She moved her right had towards him, then seemed to think better of it, and withdrew it. Then she half-turned to face the door and gave a step sideways, looking around as if asking for help. She covered her mouth.

****

I’m such an idiot! She had not considered, not even once, despite her having been to the toilet several times in the last day, that, of course, he would have to GO, too at some point. The fact that he hadn’t until now only meant that he was probably mildly dehydrated.  Some doctor I’m turning out to be… Another glaring hole in her plan to keep her man smuggled in her room or in her person. I have to keep in mind that even if he is not human, he is most definitely a sentient person, not a toy, not a doll, not a pet, and NOT mine. An astronaut, in fact, is what he is…

Trying to think clearly as Paah-tshoh fidgeted below her, she considered her options: maybe he does not only have to pee… but poo too… not to mention he must want to take a bath…But it’s too risky to make him use the toilet… he could slip, fall in and be flushed, drowned or swept beyond reach in the sewer, not to mention he would be visible under the stall to other people in the bathroom, and standing on the edge of the privy, reeking of giant bodily waste must not be pleasant for him, nor hygienic. He’s too small for the wiping loofas, too…

An unwelcome thought bubbled up: he’s smaller than what I (or even a waif like Jablo) can evacuate in the toilet in a bad day for the gods’ sake… She blushed even more, her brain reeling from the implications. He must find us humans disgusting, smelly behemoths! It would be filthy and undignified to make him relieve himself on a napkin here, on her room. Shit! It’s getting late! What to do, what to do?

Suddenly she came up with a plan. Leaving the flummoxed Paah-tshoh standing there on the chair, she went to the wardrobe and kneeled to get one of her shoes, quickly pulling the laces of one. Then she kneeled before the chair and hastily tied it around the increasingly perplexed tiny man’s waist, coiling the rest and delivering it to his hands. Then she grabbed him in her fist as gently (but hastily) as she could and transferred him to a fanny pack full of some of her silk handkerchiefs for cushioning and a few berries she had thrown in there for him, among other knick-knacks and pulled the strings close to secure her valuable cargo. First stop: the toilet. A bath would have to wait till later: her job awaited her.

****

Tloche’s movements had become more paused, thankfully, as the walk to wherever the giant woman was going had apparently reached its destination, all in good time, as he was getting an awful dose of motion sickness. Earlier, Tloche had taken him to the bathroom for “shikko”, a situation that, as expected, was awkward, to say the least, for both of them and specially for Paah-tshoh, who had stood on Tloche’s knee, who in turn had crouched near the ditch-toilet stall in the boarding house, while she held the lifeline string in one hand, ready to rescue him, should he slip.

She had been in an awkward position (in more than one sense), trying to angle her knee towards the porcelain ditch without falling in, and be close enough for Pacho to reach, while politely looking away, an effort he appreciated but that was ultimately thwarted by his shy bladder, which was also to be expected as he was standing with his ridiculous purple velvet shorts on his ankles, cock in hand, on the warm, smooth, shapely naked knee of a beautiful woman, looming behind him.

He took so long to squeeze out the first drops, that of course, a (you guessed it) furiously blushing Cantlutloche looked down and immediately away, noting he had not finished. Both of them were relieved he did not need to go to number two… yet, but it was just a matter of time, he groaned inwardly. Then, he feared, she would have to go, too… and perforce he would be around. Also, it was the first time in his life that Pacho had spent more than 24 (Earth’s) hours without taking a bath, and it was HOT inside the bag he was in. Thankfully, the bag had some eyelets to let fresh air in, and where he could peek out from. Tloche had also provided a few berries to eat, and a kind of shortened syringe filled with water, which he could drink from.

Tloche was greeting people in her melodic, but very loud voice, and was greeted back by both males and females with even more stentorian tones, making her voice look subdued by comparison. Pacho peeked out of the nearest eyelet, only to have a hair-raising view of a giant, potbellied, hulking blonde man staring right at him. His heart stopped… only to realize, relieved, that he must be staring (rather blatantly) at Tloche’s ass, facing the giant, an ass above which Pacho was resting in the fanny pack.

Looking around, Pacho noticed they were in a library. Other giants were around, some dressed in the same attire Cantlutloche was wearing. It seemed to be the uniform of library or school employees. As she walked around, a voice from a loudspeaker droned something unintelligible. Pacho saw Tloche was walking among the shelves, but as he was facing backwards, he could not know exactly what he was doing… until he heard the whirring of wheels, probably a cart for transporting books. She must be working here at the library, putting books back on the shelves… and other tasks. For a long, boring time. Minutes passed. Then dozens of minutes. Then more.

He had found a lower eyelet and found he could see Tloche’s curvaceous legs and a good part of her behind, ambling below. He was distracted contemplating this, when a while later, they entered a rather dark passage and then the bag swiveled in its strap and its mouth opened.

Pacho looked up, guiltily as he had been ogling her, to see her innocent eyes and lovely smile…. Beyond the very prominent mounds of her breasts. She looked him over, checking if he was OK, and with some soft words, waved at him and closed the bag, which was returned to its former position behind her. With nothing else to do, Pacho’s mind began to wander… the hardon he had gotten by looking at the back of her thighs and her twin buttocks bouncing below him had only reasserted itself by seeing her smile at him… over the curves of the most magnificent mammaries he had ever seen.

But ever since his rescue, Tloche had treated him kindly, but keeping an invisible barrier between them, inviting nothing of the earlier intimacy they had shared. She seemed to be establishing boundaries. What else could I expect, thought Pacho, surprisingly hurt, as he cogitated this. She is (as I could witness first hand) not a virgin. She probably has a lover, a giant, or rather, normal to her, lover, with a prick longer, thicker and much more durable than Pacho’s whole body could ever hope to be. When Pacho was inside her, he had noticed he was by no means touching the bottom, so to speak. He could never penetrate her with the force and the subsequent and sustained pistoning necessary to satisfy a colossal girl, with a colossal pussy for which Pacho was a mere, inadequate morsel, never a full meal. Last time he visited, he was almost killed by her vagina.

He remembered the difficulty the redheaded Trano had had in trying to grab his meager cock, pinching clumsily around with her thick, stubby fingers, nudging his balls rather uncomfortably. And then Tloche had hastened to procure him with something to cover himself, so he would not have his unimpressive “manhood” in her face. It was all the worse as Pacho already had seen those impressive, kissable nipples atop squeezable tits bigger than him, those long legs and everything else, which he would never see again and which he would never have the chance to prove worthy of enjoying and making their owner enjoy having.

He was cursed to live the life of a talking hamster, who would pine away in the darkness of the desk, out of the way as one day, he was sure, the sounds of giant lovemaking would reach him, when she found (if she did not have one already) and brought home a man of her own measure before whom she would offer what he could never have. Even these disconsolate thoughts did not appease his desire for the young giantess, images of giant womanly eyes, giant dangling breasts, huge milky white thighs spreading open and sweet, deep and moist lips danced in his head. He only restrained himself from jerking off right there as it would be filthy and he did not want to be a creep to the woman that had risked jail or maybe even her life, to keep him from harm.

****

As she worked, Cantlutloche felt like time was not only crawling but actually going backwards. Having the tiny, sexy, scantily clad man so close to her all day was maddening. Last night she had had disjointed dreams she could barely recollect, but all involved a naked Paah-tshoh. In one particularly lurid dream she had lying in a great bed, spread eagle, tied to the posts by as an army of tiny Paah-tshohs,  even smaller than the original, barely two inches tall, ran all over her body, touching her everywhere, dragging their feet on and combing her pubes, climbing her breasts, but, tantalizingly, never directly going where she needed it, until her nipples and cunt were positively howling in a frustrated sex-craze. In another, she watched, as in a trance, how Paah-tshoh was the one pinned by the table, sprawled as a butterfly under her hungry gaze, her looking at his penis move, impossibly, like an elephant’s trunk, flopping all around, avoiding her fingers, who longed to feel the amazingly soft yet hard member to kiss it, suck it, milk it for all it could offer her, until it unexpectedly burst a load like a garden hose, spraying her with its pearly offering, which tasted as sweet as sugar.

She had woken from one of these dreams so aroused she tried to covertly rub one off under the covers with her back to Paah-tshoh, but the rustling of blankets and the creaking of the mattress was too loud in the dark, and she was on her period, which would make things even messier, so she desisted. Hell, she would run to the toilet to rub one NOW, period or no period if Paah-tshoh was not inescapably around her. And the last thing I need now, is to confirm him I’m the greatest pervert of the two planets, both his and mine.

Every time she remembered she had taken advantage of his helplessness to shove him up her cunt she felt a deep twinge of remorse she could not shake off. I must seem so gross to him… my skin (of which she was not-so-secretly very proud of) must seem to him as the hide of a whale, full of pores and coarse bristles… my breasts so bloated, dangling and grotesque (she was secretly embarrassed of having very perky breasts and nipples). Every time I am closer to him I worry how I must smell to him, especially now in my bi-monthly cycle… it’s so strange that I have to worry if I wiped myself right after going to the bathroom because he might notice as he is so close atop the table to… there… If he is cute, imagine how the women of his world must be, so delicate, so soft. They must flock to him, so brave, so determined, so handsome.

The fact was that Paah-tshoh seemed quite indifferent to her, taking care to cover himself from her prying eyes, never, after he had ogled her at the table, had she caught him looking again at her THAT way, keeping his distance. He must be grossed out after being soaked in my stinky cum, and now is trying to bid his time until he can get away. She could not deny now that she wanted to go all the way with the tiny man until she exploded. It had been quite a while since she had been with a man, and her intimate experience with Paah-tshoh, though shameful, had left her unsatisfied, and yet, appallingly... she wanted more of it, did not stop wanting it to happen, not again, but completely this time. I will make it worth your while, she thought, shocked at her own determination to seduce the man destiny had, quite literally, delivered into her hands.

A few very dull and long days ensued.   Pacho was bored nearly to death while inside the fanny pack, as there was nothing to do inside it besides peeking at the giant world around him, and no way to talk to anyone: and even if he could be heard by Tloche, his limited vocabulary and even more rudimentary command of grammar  still did not allow the kind of conversation he was dying to have with the alluring giant woman. However, she took him anywhere she went, which admittedly was much better than languishing in her narrow, spartan room through the long, alien day.

The few glimpses he got through the holes of the bag of this society of giants, and the cultural differences he recognized even in the smallest details kept him from totally collapsing from absolute tedium.  So far, he had seen squarish-garishly colored cars and oddly shaped bicycles. There were a variety of what seemed to be electrical appliances, but their purpose baffled him, as their shape and buttons were utterly unfamiliar, also, his little bilingual handbook did not cover those.

Everyone, including Tloche, had the curious custom of squatting to chat, which he had often seen in Slavic and some Asian countries back on is world. People squatted to chat, squatted to eat snacks, etc.; they squatted everywhere, including his protectress.

Every day of the week had been the same. Not long after daybreak, Tloche, took away his chamber pot, fashioned from a bottle cap, and then put him in a shallow tin basin with lukewarm water so he could clean himself in private while she went to wash herself in the common bathrooms.  After that they had breakfast in her room, after which she picked him carefully with her soft, warm fingers, put him in the fanny pack, and she went to her job with him in tow, literally. Then they came home in the evening, ate dinner and chatted, and chatted some more, with his trusty notes, and her very kindly correcting his pronunciation and explaining what she could to his questions about grammar, vocabulary and everything else. Then she would put him in the drawer, change into her sleeping camisole, take him back out and they both read or studied for two hours of so, he in his language studies, her in her medical textbooks, before biding him good night and turning the lights off.

If Pacho wanted to chat, Tloche was not only forthcoming, but clearly eager to converse. She usually sat on a mat on the ground near the chair, where he slept and ate, as it was awkward to do so in the table because of the difference in height when she was seated in the chair, and she was reluctant to sit on the chair now that he used it as a loft and ate there.

Her very expressive eyes sparkled when they talked, and she gestured a lot while talking; Pacho thought half of the talking was done by her eyebrows and eyes alone. The earnest, giant woman’s gaze was surprisingly tender, yet keen and intelligent. Her black eyes regarded him with her whole attention, so fixed in each broken Casibare-kem (which, he learned, was the name of her native language) word he managed to utter, that his spine (and other parts) tingled with awe as he looked up at her enormous face looking down at him, eyes wide, mouth half opened with and wonderment as he struggled to answer her questions and she answered his with her sweet, lilting voice. Her face was flawless, covered by minute blonde hairs that no doubt were invisible to her. Her cheeks, brow, and even her cute nose was covered by the fuzz, which sparkled in the sunlight. Being in the presence of such a marvel of nature made him happy to be alive.

After a few days, Pacho had been set at ease by a clear improvement in her complexion, so now he was pretty much assuaged that he had not brought a deadly plague along. Indeed, when they talked, she often blushed, spoke too fast to be understood, giggled and even stuttered a little, covering her mouth and lowering her eyes, nervously. All of this made her ever more adorable in Pacho’s eyes, but he thought she was like that all the time. Little did he know that Cantlutloche’s friends would be aghast at seeing the pale, dark haired woman, usually cool to the point of being grave, so flustered when talking to a man that she was red to the ears. 

When they talked, he could not help but be entranced by her naturally carmine lips, and he had to struggle not to stare to the enormous, sensual lips as they moved rapidly to form words, giving him glimpses of pearly teeth and a very nimble tongue.

He was thankful of his scant and ridiculous purple shorts, as he had a case of an almost permanent hard-on when Tloche was around, which was 90 percent of the day, as the giant woman was clearly loath to leave him alone for extended periods of time, but the thick fabric concealed his arousal well enough. Staring at her sexy, kissable mouth from up close did not help in this regard. And below that, her bulging bosom, filling her shirt in a very distracting and impossible to ignore way (especially as it giggled noticeably and enticingly when she giggled as they talked, or tried to).

Not only this made Pacho feel guilty, but also, he was hard pressed not to leer as he was essentially at knee height and she was using her uniform, with shorts, most of the day, which showed off her very shapely, toned thighs. Every morning, and he had a privileged, up close view of the giantess thighs after they finished breakfast, as she slid the chair a little apart from the bed, turned her back on him and bent over to make the bed, displaying her pert, meters-wide ass unknowingly.

Perhaps what was more galling to Pacho was the fact that he had to depend on the giant woman for everything. He was always on tabletops, chairs, in the fanny pack or in her hands (which trembled noticeably [and not very reassuringly] when handling him), which meant he was always trapped several meters above the ground. He had to admit that being on the ground so he could walk around made little sense, as Tloche would not be able to hear him talk, and he did not want to be anywhere close to car-sized feet supporting a being of over 100 tons, who could turn him into a red stain on the floor effortlessly if she was careless even for an instant.

He had to wait for her to feed him, carry him around, and even more humiliatingly, he had to inform her every time he had to relieve himself, for which Tloche had provided him with a little jingle-bell like contraption he could sound from inside the fanny pack to signal he had to go to the loo. She even had to empty his chamber pot, for crying out loud!

****

The first days with Paah-tshoh were almost torture to Tloche. She spent the whole day in an uneasy state of excitement as she was constantly reminded that she had a man – and a very attractive one at that – so close to her, all the time, which made her very self-conscious of what she said and did. Because of this, she got distracted and made a few mistakes on her job, which got her in trouble with her supervisor, Mrs. Unononu, who was priggish even when Tloche was at 100% (and now she wasn’t). She also spent some uneasy moments in her shift as every time she had to take a bathroom break she had to find one of her friends to leave her fanny pack with her with some lame excuse as she did not want to expose Paa-tshoh to unseemly smells and sights of her and other patrons of the ladies’ room. She was then always terrified that anyone opened her fanny pack to find her little treasure there.

The times when Paah-tshoh signaled her that he had to go were also very awkward, as she could tell he was quite uncomfortable and unhappy to have her around when he had to take care of nature’s calls, but there was not any way around it. He could see he was ill at ease, avoiding her eyes, blushing and speaking in a mumble of words, which made it double awkward as she had sometimes to ask him to repeat himself.

Another source of awkwardness was the fact that Tloche had to be putting Paah-tshoh in and out of her desk drawer so she could change clothes every time she took a bath or before going to bed.  She could tell he hated being in there, like a prisoner or a pet. Tloche also found that being compelled to have her room’s door always closed also made her feel like a prisoner, and her self-imposed hermit life was driving a wedge in the friendhip with her roommates, but she was deathly afraid to expose Paah-tshoh to the prying eyes of any woman who surely would be running right to the authorities after seeing the little-extra-terrestrial especially after the shrill news coverage on the radio following the government’s revelations.

But the thing that had her more stressed and wound up was being around such a sexy man, touching him every day, her fingers trembling from pent up excitement as she handled his firm, warm little body. For instance, when she changed clothes, in her room, she got oddly excited to just stand there, stark naked, in front of her desk, running her hands lightly over her body as she bit her lip to contain the whimper bubbling in her lips.

Knowing that there was a man there, who was himself quite aware the reason she had put him there was because she was going to be unclothed, and the only thing separating them, the only thing that prevented each other from seeing their mutual charms, were a few fractions of an inch of wood panels, aroused her to no end. So every night before bed she took of her day clothes and stood there, legs lightly spread, naked, bare toes curling on the cool tiles with suppressed eagerness, her gaze fixed on the drawer where she kept her little man.

It was then when her hands went unbidden to squeeze her burning breasts, to the heat between her legs, but she had to restrain herself, as she was sure he would be able to sniff the lingering aroma of her arousal in her fingers ( even when her period finally went away) when she touched him again to get him out of his wooden confinement. So, she simply sighed, slid her lithe body into her sleeping shift and then fished the unsuspecting Paah-tshoh out.

The uneventful (at least to outside viewers) situation between Tloche and Pacho lulled them into a comforting, if dull routine. By now, Tloche had been able to speak to her little guest enough to gather that he was not part of the spearhead of an alien invasion (or at least that is what he would say, Trano’s voice in her head seemed to argue).

In any case, Pacho was so cute and helpless, and seemingly so guileless that it was impossible (to Tloche) to imagine him a part of a nefarious plot to enslave humanity. He did not have any advanced gizmos or uncanny powers to show off, he had no (visible) mechanical parts and his animal and human needs seemed human and undeniable enough… as were hers.

Tloche was now in an almost unbearable state of attraction towards Paat-shoh. This made her mind and heart a jumble of conflicting emotions. On one hand, Paat-shoh was clearly an adult man, grown up enough to be doing atmospheric research in a university, as he hastened to clarify after her asking him if he was an astronaut; he was clear that his downed craft, though advanced relative to what Lur had to offer, was not an interstellar spaceship.

On the other hand, their size difference would make any advances toward him (and Gods, was she ever poised to advance) an abuse if he did not initiate, as the power imbalance was too high. It was too easy to force herself on the tiny man against his will, as he would be powerless and possibly too afraid of the repercussions of angering a giant, lumbering monster like her to be completely honest with Tloche.

Even more, her own twisted night dreams (there was plenty of daydreaming about it, too) about having the little man explore and climb her body as that commercial she saw on the big screen when a teenager made her both incredibly turned on and ashamed of herself. She had even facilitated things for him when she decided to put the chair he slept in touching her bed so if he wanted to hop to the mattress when she was asleep he could do it safely. So far, he had either not caught on or had been unwilling to try it.

So tonight, as every night before, she bid Paat-shoh good night and turned her back on him on the bed as she could not take her eyes off him if she lay down facing him. She even ditched the covers except to warm her feet and slept in loose shorts and a sleeping camisole with nothing else under, and she imagined, quivering with excitement, Paat-shoh’s eyes looking her over, being seduced and, finally deciding to willingly bridging the gap between them.

Her thighs and breasts tingled with pent excitement as she imagined the incredible thrill of feeling Paat-shoh’s warm, manly body squirming under the covers, making contact with her skin and crawling up her shorts’ leg, how her nether hair would tickle as he crawled through and parted with his body her splooshing unmentionables, or she imagined him wriggling between her breasts, or latching his burning hands and mouth into an itching nipple…. Cut it out!, she thought, this fantasies are getting you nowhere, and you will end up losing control around him and making him fear or be disgusted by you!

Indeed, her greatest fear was that her giant body, hairs, fluids and pores (not to mention the smell, face heating with embarrassment) and who knows how many details she could not even perceive about herself would be too gross and in-your-face to be sexy. She had barely restrained herself to take off her shirt with him around as she changed for bed, thinking her jiggling chest (each one was way bigger than him) could be grotesque to him.

She was certain that no man could find exciting to be plunged headlong into the musky, slimy crevice between her mammoth, fatter than tree-trunks thighs to be drowned by the sticky goo she knew she could generate embarrassing amounts of. Even her most delicate, chaste kiss would probably seem slobbery to a poor, overwhelmed Paat-shoh, and she did have in mind well beyond that, her lips and tongue quivering with anticipation as she imagined her exploring his face, mouth and indeed entire head with her mouth…. I said stop! And you’re thinking only of himself… how will he be able to get release from me? I do not trust my clumsy fingers to jerk off his cute thingy, and my mouth and tongue would leave him raw…

The guilt and repressed sex drive (it had been over a year since she last had sex) had her mentally exhausted and about to explode, and also very cranky. The ladies’ room was always too crowded at work and at the boarding house to be able to give herself much needed release in the form of a good self-fondling session. Paat-shoh was always in her room with her. She could not leave Paat-shoh for too long in the library with anyone inside her fanny pack to go explore elsewhere in the campus for a secluded, less used place to masturbate… it was driving her crazy. In this uneasy frame of mind, she finally fell asleep to dream of the same.

***

Paat-shoh was not as wound up, as he had taken the time when he bathed alone to relieve himself a few times, with no less shame than Tloche, and taking good care of making any evidence of his seed disappear before she caught him. He thought he would die of shame if she even suspected he was jerking himself off atop her table, in the bathwater and of course, thinking of her. He was, as always, staring at Tloche’s magnificent thighs, hips and back facing him as she fidgeted in bed. It was tantalizing that he had only to take a few steps and he could be touching her bottom. Unable to sleep, he got out of bed, leaving his ridiculous purple pants on his makeshift cot. He stood there, naked in the semidarkness of the colossal room, staring at the colossal beauty in front of him, and before he even knew it, he had stepped of the chair and was standing on the sheets.

He could smell her perfume and feel the amazing heat she gave off. Her hips were several meters tall, looming round, shapely and inviting, just meters in front of him. He snapped out of it, aware he was committing an indiscretion, and conscious that his throbbing arousal was not conductive to thinking clearly. He just stood there for a few moments, drinking in the unbelievably sight of a scantily-clad, young and hot girl in bed beside him, and yet so out of his league, he who was dwarfed by any of her tits, her mere nipples longer and thicker than his dick, even as swollen as it was now.

Before he turned back to his bed, Tloche tossed in bed and ended up on her side facing him, the bed creaking ominously and her arm landed with a thud too close for comfort, almost giving him a heart attack. He looked anxiously at her face, but she was adorably asleep, with her mouth half open, breathing heavily. Then, eyes widening, he realized one of the buttons of her camisole had come undone and he could see the round contours of a heavy breast, flattened by Tloche’s titanic weight, laying on top of the other. Face flush with shame, he averted his face and started to turn away when the arm that had almost squashed him before moved and, with slow but irresistible force, knocked him out of the bed.

He barely had time to suppress an unmanly scream as he plummeted to the floor. But he did not die. Although it was a fall of more than five meters, amazingly, he landed on his feet and barely stumbled. He looked up in amazement as he realized that the lower gravity of this planet, Lur, as the natives called it, had saved him. He jumped, again amazingly lifting more than a meter from the floor, but the covers and therefore the means to climb the bed and to his chair again were still out of his reach. Annoyed at possibly having to spend the night on the cold tiles and too embarrassed to call for help while naked and having to explain himself, he looked around for options, when he noticed light ahead, coming from under the bed.

Pacho walked carefully under the bed. It was clean down there, but with the usual clutter of shoes, sandals and assorted footwear. After weaving through it in the shadowy underbelly of his protectress bed, he made it to the wall separating Tloche’s room from the one of her flatmates.

The light was coming from a circular aperture flush with the ground. It as about a meter in diameter and he could barely see indistinct shapes beyond.  He looked back, hesitantly, and then up. There were no cables, hanging covers of bedsheet around to help him climb the bed. He already had been around her room enough to know there was no way to scale the metal tubing of the bedposts or the chair legs. Tloche had eventually explained to him that the cabling for the light fixtures on the ceiling and the switch ran inside the bed’s tubing and were attached to the bed, not the walls.

Pacho knew there were quite a few hours before Tloche woke up. It had been quite a few days since he had the opportunity to walk anywhere on his own, and overcame by curiosity, he stooped and crawled through the opening. He guessed he could always run back if there was any trouble.

When he came out and looked around, he realized he was under a bed much like Tloche’s, but the lights in this room were on, and it was way more crowded and messier than there. Besides the footwear, he could see there were also several bottles of various sizes and shapes, and by now he could read enough of the alien script to know some were cosmetics and hair products. Most of the bottles were light blue and taller than him. The room was in total silence, however.

Pacho looked back at the dark hole he had just come out of. Feeling reassured at the overall silence, he strolled a bit, noticing that the door to this room was closed, and unlike his room, there was a noticeable gap between the floor and the door. A gap he might be able to crawl under.

He had arrived at the edge of the underside of the bed, near one of the legs. He stared at the possible escape route. Shaking his head, he regretfully realized running away from Tloche into the unknown giant world was a terrible idea, especially naked as he was. He realized that Tloche would be worried sick if he disappeared. It would also be too much like a betrayal. Like betraying her trust, her care. Besides, despite his helplessness, the feeling of inadequacy he felt every time he was handled by the giant beauty, he reluctantly but surely and with sudden clarity, knew that he did not want to part from her. Now that he had a way out, he unexpectedly knew he really would not take it.

He had the dim, foolish hope of getting to know the giant woman better. Not only as a pet, a refugee, a simple guest, but as more. He wanted her to trust him as a man, a friend. But if he was honest to himself, he mused, he wanted to be more than just a friend. He desired her. But his desire went beyond the simple lust of seeing a beautiful woman willfully disrobe before his eyes, to give her body to him and to know that same woman expected him to reciprocate with his physicality upon hers. It was more than the basic male desire to gawk at her tits and her revealed, spread sex. He wanted to look into her eyes and see her look back at him as…   It was then that he became fully conscious that he had fallen in love with Cantlutloche Parrotflock. He wanted, needed, more time with her.

His contemplation was stopped by a most terrifying sound that made his hair stood on end. It was a hoarse, throaty, deep and protracted grunt, worthy of a tiger. The bed shuddered and groaned above.

Pacho’s heart almost stopped. A million thoughts ran through his mind. He had asked Tloche if her roommates kept pets, worried that a cat or a dog (or at least the very similar animals these giants kept around) would surely find him and make short work of him, but the giant brunette had replied that no pet, not even fish were allowed in the boarding house. But if any critter had sneaked in, or if one was kept against regulations, hidden in the room, he was toast. Knowing he would be no match against any animal, he turned on his heels and started running towards the way he had come before, to the hole in the wall, but then the bed creaked ominously and more light came in as it was separated from the wall by an irresistible force.

He sprinted even more, but then he stopped and cringed as something dark crashed down from above, sliding between the bed and the wall, and slamming with a deafening thud on the tiles. Pacho had inadvertently covered his head against the threat. Then another, even more dreadful growl was heard, heavy with ferocity and frustrated urges. His heart leaping in his chest with every heartbeat, he looked up, sure he would be staring into the maw of an alien predator, but all he saw was a pile of green-bound, heavy giant books blocking his way into Tloche’s abode.

Pacho had barely time to gawk, open mouthed, at this impassable obstacle which meant he was in real trouble, when another beastly groan was heard, the bed creaked even more overhead, and then movement at the corner of his eye made him turn his head. A giant hand, though proportionally slender and feminine, had descended from above on the opposite side of the bed, opposite to the side he was near the wall and it started to grasp below the bed, blindly, long, talon-like nails, painted black, clicking and scraping loudly against the tiles.

He had nowhere to run… except to that gap under the door… but it was quite far, and he would be horribly exposed as soon as he got from under the bed. As he hesitated, he saw another shadow descend on the edge of the bed. Giant, orange feet landed with a thud on the tiles. It was Jablo, Tloche’s roommate. Glued to the floor in terror, he watched in a mix of utter terror and wonder as giant, orange buttocks appeared and the hand, with an impatient gesture, brushed against some of the bottles under the bed, and finally settled on one of the smaller ones, almost as tall as Pacho himself, and a little thicker than his body.

The hand took away the bottle, and Pacho gawked at the giant feet shift and pivot on the floor, the giant ass muscles rippling as Jablo settled into a comfortable squat, her back to him and the bed. Wet sounds were heard from above, and after a few seconds, the hand, grasping the bottle, reappeared between her legs. Pacho’s focus changed to the giant, exposed asshole, visibly contracting just meters in front of him, ringed by bristly, flaxen stubby hairs as long as his fingers were. He could just make out, beyond her anus, strikingly long, meter-long flaps of skin, her labia, dangling and swinging like outrageous twin pendulums from side to side ominously, lewdly, as the giant woman moved on the balls of her feet.

Another black taloned paw descended and split the curtains of flesh aside, the other hand grasping the bottle then started to slowly impale the great twat with it. It was then that the grunt he had first heard repeated itself, and he recognized it with dismay as the muted groans of pleasure of a woman, a goliath of a girl, really a thin waif in her world, but that to him was as loud, no, louder than the bellowing of an angry hippo.

Pacho was then witness to the gradual but inexorable disappearance of a bottle very much near his size into the depths of Jablo’s hungry, hairy cunt.

The bottle was swallowed almost entirely, and it started to slowly emerge again only to be pushed again inside with two fingers, at first slowly, then quite violently. All the while the waifish behemoth breathed heavily, and moaned, each moan echoed by tremendous twitches from her anus, the purplish wrinkled flesh pushing out at times enough to show a glimpse of her pink insides. All this was followed by incredibly loud wet sounds as the tempo increased. He was just a few meters behind her.

The spectacle was so amazing that he realized he had given a few steps towards the enormous backside without knowing it, though he was prudent enough not to come from under the bed. He took cover behind a shoe, though, and continued to watch, astonished, as the bottle was deftly and noisily plunged into the wet hole before being pulled out, the skin of her taint and her labia stretching out hugging the bottle a surprising distance from her body as she tugged on the container before pressing on it with one finger. The smell was as overpowering as the view and the sloshing noises, and he saw several fist-sized gobbets of white, thick fluid drip onto the ground.

Now Pacho’s escape was made even more difficult as he became conscious that running with a raging hard-on would be very awkward.

****

Mal-Jabloki covered her mouth with one hand trying to stifle the embarrassingly loud moans threatening to escape her. She knew from experience that the walls and the door were not enough to keep sounds in, especially when they were high-pitched, as she had sometimes overheard some noises from Fisotrano’s room that sounded very much like what she was doing now.

Just minutes before she had been lying sprawled on a bunch of pillows on her bed, naked in the heat, trying to focus on a pile of books she had to read to qualify for a special business law course she was going to take next semester. Earlier, she had to tell her date, the very attractive and -she hoped- well-endowed Tpann, that they could not meet tonight.

They had been seeing each other for a while and the guy was behaving like a gentleman so far….too much as a gentleman, so she was planning to give the poor, clueless Tpann a few hints to be bolder, because she was really craving a good screwing before the classes became too busy. Thinking of Tpann strong hands grabbing her, Jablo started to caress her arms with her fingertips while she read.

Soon her fingers were lightly rubbing the undersides of her breasts, and it was not long before she found her way to her pubes, which she combed and pulled lightly, stretching out the time before she touched her core. When she could not hold back anymore, she tossed the books aside, and spread her legs as she squirmed on her back, her left knee bumping the wall and separating the cot from it, the books plunging noisily to the ground. She kneaded her mons and below for a few seconds, but she was getting impatient, her urges more demanding, so she lowered her hand under the bed for a bottle that was, by sweet experience, just the right size… as she could not reach it, she jumped from the bed, flustered and annoyed, and squatted on the ground on her tiptoes.

When she finally grabbed her prize, her pussy was already pulsating with anticipation. Closing her eyes, her left hand found her moist and ready. She sucked and licked the bottle, covering her in lubricating saliva, and as her hand descended, her body accepted the small resin cylinder, Jablo’s throat noisily purring as it cleaved her just right. She stabbed herself with it in a frenzied search of sexual release, oblivious to the little man’s presence behind her, just inches from her ass, almost directly beneath her. Jablo’s hand clamped over her mouth, body swaying as she crouched beside her bed on the balls of her feet.

It was not long before she had to clamp both hands to her mouth, while her vagina exploded in delicious agony, her hips buckling. The bottle, left inside her, was expelled with surprising violence in a last, joyful vaginal spasm, clattering on the ground.  She finally sat on the ground, her back to the bed, which slid on the tiles to rest against the wall.

She was still panting, feeling the welcome cool of the floor on her ass in the summer heat, her hands kneading her small,pointy breasts lazily, when she heard the emergency whistle of the boarding house scream the alarm. Fire!

Pacho was startled out of his voyeuristic episode by a veritable pandemonium. As the giant girl was purring her post-orgasmic bliss, all of a sudden, three loud, high-pitched notes were heard from somewhere in the building. Immediately, the giantess sat up and straightened her back, in a posture clearly signaling alarm.

After three seconds, the whistle piped three times, again, followed by a sound like a storm at sea as dozens of giant female voices cried in several degrees of alarm and panic, doors were open, furniture was moved, and even more dozens of enormous feet clomped about, as the whistle repeated itself every three seconds, and Pacho’s naked soles could feel the building rumble as giant females fled the premises. It was clearly an alarm signal, possibly fire.

Tloche! Thought Pacho, before realizing that she was a doctor in the making and surely more trained for emergencies than he was… in any case, he had to get out, too! He had zero chances of surviving a fire, more so being naked and helpless as he was.

The giant Mal-Jabloki rose from her stupor, and Pacho managed to peek from his hiding spot as enormous feet stomped around and the woman managed to slip into a yellow shift, open the room’s door and storm off, leaving it ajar.

Seizing his chance, Pacho ran for the exit, feeling like an idiot as he was running naked with his still half-hard dick flopping all over the place, and he crossed the room, the threshold and the small living room of the apartment. The entrance was already open and as Pacho looked back to Tloche’s room, he saw it was still closed. He saw a few giant females run past the door at what had to be 50 miles per hour or more. The din of the fire alarm and the people yelling, and running was incredible.

Standing just before the apartment’s door, near the doorframe as to avoid being seen or stepped on by passersby, he stopped in hesitation, as there was nothing his paltry strength could do to knock on Tloche’s door to wake her up, if all this commotion had not managed it. He also did not want to worry her and make her lose valuable time looking for him when she should be evacuating the building like everyone else… and if he stepped outside the girls’ dwelling he was going to be either spotted and captured or stepped on to die a bug’s meaningless death under the foot of a stomping hundred-tonne-plus random girl running in a panic.

As he dithered worrying uselessly on what to do, the decision was taken from him. He cringed as two giants, evidently males by their sheer bulk and height compared with the females he was acquainted with, walked in, the ground trembling under their weight. They were terrifyingly huge, especially with their red, loosely fitting uniforms of very thick cloth, clearly designed to protect the wearer and be highly visible and strange-looking helmet-masks of one piece of what looked like matte-black wood, heavy boots and black, weighty gloves. Firemen? First response workers? What worried him more was that one of them was practically dragging by the arm a wide eyed Jablo, who walked like a zombie, offering no resistance.

He was doubly worried as he looked on to see the other male drawing out from somewhere a wicked-looking truncheon made of a shiny red material, with even more wicked studs all over. The man tapped it ominously against the side of his leg, apparently aching to use it. Jablo saw the cudgel and she paled visibly. These are no firemen… thought Pacho, as he saw the men walk around with the swagger common to thugs everywhere

Then a tall, slender figure entered the room at a leisurely pace, with the graceful gait of a woman; she was dressed like the two males. A powerful woman, as the two men immediately, wordlessly made way for her in a clearly deferential attitude. Two more men entered behind her, spreading into the room. Pacho managed to see the woman look around and then she made an almost imperceptible signal towards the only door left closed in the apartment… Tloche’s.

The man with the club, the largest one by the way, walked to Tloche’s door and, quite casually, kicked it in and entered the room. Cantlutloche’s girlish yelp of startlement coming from inside the room brought Pacho to the chilling realization that all of this was for him and of his utter helplessness to do something for Tloche or to save himself. They are looking for me! They were probably spooks or policemen, and now his benefactress, the woman he had fallen in love with was in deep trouble because of him. From the conversations Tloche and he had have he knew if they found him it would go very badly for Tloche, and of course, for Pacho.

Realizing that there would be no case against his giant friend if no extraterrestrial geophysicist was found, but feeling like a piece of shit by deserting her, Pacho slipped out unnoticed, and started running down the hall, more or less blindly, thinking of getting to a corner where he could hide, feeling horribly exposed in the colossal and now empty corridor, just to be stopped in his tracks as a titanic woman came running up the hall with her shoes in her hand.

The woman, dressed in a short and tight mini-skirt, black hose to match and a white bodice-like blouse, spotted Pacho and jogged to a stop until she was looming over him. She had fiery red hair in a longish pixie cut, and her blue eyes regarded him flatly over the great swell of her prominent bust. She was clearly not happy to see him. He looked around for a way out but realized it was futile. As he looked back at her, his stomach dropped as he saw the woman quickly lift her right foot and the ominous shadow of a huge sole approached him from above, giving him no escape. The foot descended.

Tloche was sitting on a chair in the living room, trying to cover her shoulders and neckline with a small green shawl she managed to grab before she was dragged from her room. Now that she was surrounded by three burly men, who had besides closed the door to her apartment, wearing a skimpy camisole and shorts and nothing else did not seem like a good idea. The fire alarm kept blaring throughout. Mal-Jabloki was sitting on a chair beside her, sobbing quietly, her back to Tloche, who could see stark purple bruises in the blonde waif’s thin arms; she had obviously been manhandled.

Although the men wore firefighter uniforms, it was pretty clear these were undercover policemen or something like that, as they did not carry any tools except for the fearsome , two feet long studded hardwood cudgels, painted red, which were called “tiger’s cock” by some, and were used by the cops and thugs alike. There were other two men ransacking the whole flat with a vengeance, obviously on the lookout for… Paat-shooh, which thankfully was nowhere to be seen. Tloche was now willing to bet two months’ pay the fire alarm was an excuse to infiltrate the building and have the three women at their mercy… luckily Trano was not around, apparently having been detained by her waitress job.

This left Tloche with an uneasy mix of emotions: relief, as he was apparently out of any danger, and a sense of disappointment and betrayal, as the little man had apparently taken off with no notice… she had noticed, however, he did not take his purple outfit with him, which she could see laying on the floor of her room even from where she was sitting. What if he ran outside and was stepped on? She worried, with a laden feeling on her gut.

She was shaken out of her reverie by one of the men surrounding her, the slenderer of them all, abruptly pulling her shawl and taking it away from her; she did not dare resist, as the man carried a gun openly in his belt, his free hand sitting carelessly on the handle. Without her shawl, Tloche crossed her arms under her breasts and squirmed awkwardly on her seat, feeling too bare, as her very loose camisole had a plunging neckline, and she was wearing no chest strap nor loincloth, her pale legs completely revealed by the very skimpy shorts.

Although the men around her wore black firefighter masks and goggles, she could tell they were leering openly at her, encouraged by the slender man, who seemed to be the boss, and who, although not leering, had knowingly made Tloche uncomfortable on purpose by removing the shawl. Being surrounded by unknown, hostile, faceless brawny men, while being so scantily clad, was a situation intended to break her will… and…

“Where is it?”

There come the questions, Tloche sighed inwardly, as the next logical step in this hellish day came to pass. And one way or the other, she had no answers to give… something she did not expect, though, was the slender man, who had asked the question, was, unmistakably a woman, judging by her voice, which was clearly used to command and to be obeyed. Dejectedly, Cantutloche raised her eyes and gazed at the tall woman’s eye slits on her fireproof mask…

Inquester-commandant Mâstusiu looked down at the young women cowering before her and her men. The blonde one was almost pissing herself from fear, whimpering in her seat and avoiding her eyes. The brunette had a blank, unreadable look, neither scared nor defiant, more like quiet, stoic acceptance of her fate. Mâstusiu deliberately avoided introducing herself, knowing that the mystery added to the impending threat she posed.

“You know what I’m talking about” continued Mâstusiu. “We have not found anything here that gives us any leads about the whereabouts of the… individual. However, from our peers in Bitagweh, we have learned that it is not uncommon for those who have mingled with the ‘people’ we are looking for, to have continued to ‘be in touch’, because the aliens are capable of offering enticing gifts or knowledge, and in some cases, certain… sordid pleasures”.

Here Mâstusiu searched the brunette’s face, Cantlutloche, for any signs of embarrassment, guilt or anything, but the pale girl’s countenance remained steady and deadpan, which either showed a clear conscience or a depraved mind which knew no shame. The other girl simply stared at the floor. As no other reaction was forthcoming, the Inquester continued:

“But in all cases these gifts eventually turn sour, and invariably those accepting them are lured to their doom as the aliens come to collect their due. I’m told you are aware of that young woman from Bitagweh who was abducted last year. Some alien artifacts were found among the few belongings of her that were recovered, as were a lot of unfinished electronic projects made with Lur’s materials, but which nefarious purpose the authorities over there have been unable to ascertain. Maybe the young woman had second thoughts about abetting the aliens’ activities and they decided to snuff her out”.

“The father of the woman said she was seeing a guy by the name of Mark, which matches the name of one of the known aliens over there, but of course she always declined to introduce the man to her family. It is quite likely the snatched woman is now under examination in a lab in one of their ships, whole or in pieces”. Mâstusiu paused for effect. “It is rumored the aliens have a device that can shrink humans to their size”. No reaction from the girls.

 “We are determined not to let this happen in our country and will take ANY measures needed to avoid infiltration and invasion. We have monitored all of you very closely for the last weeks. Your Tungese friend Fisotrano, because she spends more time in public places, we have been able to scrutinize and frisk more closely and repeatedly, and we have not found anything on her, either. But let this visit be a warning that you will keep being under continued surveillance. We.Are.Watching.You. We have paid informants in this house and around you. My card is on the table. If one of these aliens contacts you anew, you NEED to contact me immediately and aid in its capture”.

“Now both of you, I need you to look me in the eye” both girls did. “this is your last chance to tell me if you have seen the alien from that day on”.

“No, mistress”. Said Mal-Jabloki.

“No, mistress”. Said Cantlutloche.

“If I find out you are still communing with the alien after this, and don’t tell me, I WILL find out. You will be captured, declared an enemy of the State, marked, blinded and declared an outlaw and reduced to beggary. You will be forbidden to leave the city, the territory or the country and will be forbidden to hold a job. Do you understand?”.

“Yes, mistress. Both women lowered her eyes. Without another word, she left with her men, leaving a bedlam of a mess from all the girl’s belongings, but without taking anything. Mâstusiu would not abide any petty theft from her men on the job, nor being grabby with women. Any other form of intimidation was, however, encouraged.

Cantlutloche and Jablo stayed stupefied for a few moments, looking fearfully at the door through which the goons have disappeared, not knowing if they were allowed to move. Then Jablo started to snuffle. Cantlutloche rose fom her seat and, kneeling beside her roommate, embraced her. The blonde buried her head in Tloche’s shoulder and, hugging her tightly, wept, wracked by hearbreaking sobs. Tloche closed her eyes tightly but did not cry. However, she felt a bottomless dread beneath her breastbone.

Being a medic in the making, she always found the expression “heartbroken” to be dramatic, but now she understood. Her heart ached with fright and compassion for what lay ahead for her and her helpless, lost little man. Will she find him again?

A few minutes later she led Jablo out of the apartment to the park to get some air. The other girls of the house were starting to trickle in again. As they made it to the exit, Tloche and Jablo saw the boarding house’s chief, Miss Taborda, with two other girls, kneeling near the entrance. They got closer and what they saw froze Cantlutloche’s blood to her core.

“Poor little bird” said Miss Taborda “he must have fell from his nest, he got in here and all these careless women went through here in a panic and trampled him to paste”. She shook her head, as she looked dolefully at a messy red stain of gore in the white tiles of the porch; only a small, flattened pink limb to the side betrayed the fact that the smear had not always been a shapeless blot, but that it had once been a walking living being. “this is going to be difficult to remove”. She lifted her eyes and met Tloche’s dark eyes, wide in utter horror. “Oh, Tloche, you’re the least squeamish of this lot. Will you be a good sport and fetch me a bucket, a mop and something to scrape this off?”.

Before anyone could even lift a finger, and as everyone looked, open mouthed, Cantlutloche made a strange little sound that was neither a sigh nor a moan, rolled her eyes and dropped to the ground in a swoon.

Fisotrano Matundhuno was fuming, which was NOT her natural condition: she prided herself in being easygoing and never worrying uselessly about stuff. Well, Tloche, you are going to OWE me for this, you will. The little male alien was squirming like crazy in her fist as she walked briskly, but her skimpy waitress uniform had no real pockets to stuff him in, and her little purse was full or coins and cosmetic and a whole lot of crap that could hurt the little guy. Her wooden clogs were not exactly conductive to a speedy retreat, either.

 “Don’t wriggle so much, I’m not going to hurt you, just let me get to a place where we can wait for this to blow off”. He seemed to understand, as he stilled a bit. She was not much concerned in her little passenger being discovered, as people’s eyes (even women) were always drawn to her abundant chest, (which she was quite openly proud of), and her uniform was especially designed to show it off without being vulgar.

She had been asked by her boss to help with settling the cashier at the bar she worked at, as they had made a lot of business that night, so it took her more than usual to get home. When she arrived at the block where the boarding house was located, she was curious as she saw firemen waiting outside, near a white van, but no fire truck; she was however disconcerted when she saw one of the men palming a “tiger’s cock” on his belt, under the heavy jacket. That was NOT any of the usual firemen tools.

As if by magic, the fire alarm of the building went off and the firemen waited for all the panicky people to run off, and then Trano saw them grab a frantic Jablo before she could get out and mingle with all the women waiting outside, and bodily dragged her back inside the building. Not one of the women dared interfere with the group of heavily built men.

There was no sign of Tloche, so, Trano, heedless of the cries of the other girls in the building trying to dissuade her, took off her clogs and entered the house with them in hand to better be able to run if necessary. To her, this sounded more like organized theft, but there was little reason to mount such an operation to steal crap from broke college students. The other option was what she had been dreading: an operation of the intelligence branch of the army.

Lo and behold, who do you think she saw when she entered the hall where the room she shared with the other two girls was? Of course, the little alien. He was running along the wall, naked and all, like the devil was at his heels, and it probably was. Trano knew that if the goons disguised as firemen caught the little guy, they would trace it back to the girls. And where was this little wimp going to go with his short little legs and his dick in the air? Nowhere, that’s where, and when they nabbed him, there was going to be hell to pay for all three women.

There he was, all pathetic and scared, at her foot… and enraged and scared as she was of the appalling situation that could develop if the government caught her with an alien… dark thoughts entered Trano’s mind. It would be so easy to just step on this little shit… a broom and some sawdust and no one will notice…

But it would be murder, this was no cockroach to be stomped on, but a man, and completely defenseless, alien and all. There Fisotrano saw Paat-shooh for what he really was. Not a fearsome invading alien, but a puny, adrift and bewildered little creature with nowhere to go and no one to turn to for help.

Appalled at herself, Tloche made her decision in a nanosecond, intercepted Paat-shooh and when he tried to bolt sideways, she blocked him with her foot and then she kneeled and swiped him, and then, wasting no time, she traced back her steps, ignoring the throng of women blabbing outside and asking her questions, put on her shoes, barely avoiding a disgusting splatter on the porch of some dead animal and took off.

She had in mind a good spot where she could think things through and rest while things settled. Trano had led more than one boy by the hand to that particular, dark little corner and knew, by fruitful experience, they would not be molested there… at least she had never been caught getting handsy with the guys there…

****

Pacho was thankful he had not had breakfast, because he would have lost it inside the giant redhead’s hand as she galumphed for several earth miles until she entered the library where Tloche worked; as it was early, it was almost deserted, a few clerks going here and there. Then she navigated the maze of bookshelves at what seemed to Pacho as breakneck speed, the enormous clogs making an unholy clippity-cloppity racket on the tiles until she made it to a remote location with lines of carrel desks against the wall, and more shelves.  

Finally, the redhead got to the very corner, grabbed the closest and fattest book she could from the shelves and then took a seat, dumping the book on the desk with a loud thump and  Pacho more or less carefully atop the desk after the book, putting both elbows on the desk and making a show of make-believe studying for any potential observers. By now Pacho was sticky with hand sweat, dizzy and with an upset stomach, so he barely got time to cover his crotch with one hand and his ass crack with the other, awkwardly waddling as far as he could from the giant woman, sitting against the  back wall of the carrel desk, just seconds before he fell on his ass, covering his privates as best he could.

Then he dared to lift his eyes. The enormous redhead was holding the sides of her head with both hands, elbows on the table, breathing a little heavily because of all the rush to get there. She was looking at him with a frown, lips pursed, but her eyes were not unkind. Pacho tried not to stare at her vast heaving mounds, draped over the desk, barely covered by the thin white fabric of her delicately embroidered blouse. Although Tloche was well endowed, the busty redhead was much, much more… abundant, and the effect of the bodice-like shirt was quite flattering. With an effort of will, he met her eyes.

This was the first chance he had to examine the face of Fisotrano, as last time he was too embarrassed and afraid to dare. The giantess was quite comely, with her short, wavy, copper-red hair, delicate, heart shaped face, with a pug nose smattered with freckles and enormous blue eyes, sparkling with intelligence and mischief. Those eyes were unsettlingly fixed on him. Trano, quite brazenly,  looked him up and down, and her scowl started to dissipate. Now her head was supported only by one hand, the other playing with her hair. Her lips curved upwards just so slightly into a barely concealed, impish smirk as she looked down at him. They remained like that for a few moments in silence.

“You really did it this time, you little jerk” she suddenly whispered. “such a little thing and look at all the trouble you have caused”. Pacho saw, befuddled, how the pupils in her blue eyes dilated visibly as she looked him over. “Although I suppose I can understand why Cantlutloche is willing to put with all this inconvenience, its plain to the eyes”. She lowered her head a little, getting her face closer to the little man. “You’re quite the little hunk, beard and all” said Trano slyly. “I wonder what you two have been up to all this time alone in her room… plenty, I’m sure”.

“Now we are in deep shit, who knows what those spies are doing to poor Tloche and Jablo” she rolled her eyes, looked to the side and blew a surprisingly strong breath through her lips that ruffled Pacho’s hair, startling him with a vague citrus like scent from her breath, rather pleasant. She did not notice even an insignificant move to her could be felt so strongly by the little man.

Recovering his courage now that he saw she was in an improving mood, Pacho could not resist and decided to speak:

“Are they going be arrested”?

***

Fisotrano was quite startled when Paat-shoh the doll-man actually answered her in slightly incorrect but quite intelligible Casibare-kem. Gods, I really did not expect this guy to be able to speak and understand me so soon… her respect of the little man rose up a few notches, as did her own embarrassment at her earlier words.

“One, two, three, the hare jumped over the turtle, can you really understand what I’m saying, little guy?”. She bent her head and got her face closer to the man. He did not cower and said in a steady voice:

“I understand enough, please speak gradually”. Trano was perplexed for a second, and then she laughed.

“Oh, you mean slowly, right” she whispered. “I do not think they will get arrested, because they did not find you, Paat-shoh. This is not Bitagweh, where Jablo comes from.  Here in Casibare they have to find you with the hands on the cake to take you away to the big house. This does not mean they won’t try to scare you, and indeed if you had been found they could have invoked one of those archaic national interest laws that can be quite nasty…. But since you are naked and have been ever since Tloche dumped your clothes (and did not bother to make you any, thought Trano) and you haven’t escaped with any high-tech extra-Lurian thingamabob my guess is there is nothing to be found, which is just as well. So we’re going to spend some quality time together, my little pal, and then we’ll be going back to your tall girlfriend”.

“She’s not my girlfriend”.

“You mean to say that you haven’t done anything in all these weeks? All alone in there? The two of you? Look, dude, I have known Tloche for longer than you and she is no virgin and no prude, and she practically has to keep the hordes of willing men at bay with a lance and shield. Don’t play coy with me, man”. she blew a slight whispered raspberry.

“Seriously! She been very… respectful”. Trano could see the man clearly wished Tloche had thrown the respect out the window a while ago.

“Really?... and how respectful have YOU been?”

Paat-shoh actually laughed out loud. Fisotrano’s smile widened. She liked this guy’s chutzpah.

“Can one be anything BUT respectful with ones such as you giant women? Or you suppose can I slap her butt from ankle level?”

“You could look up her skirt from there, so there it is. I’ll give you this for free, dude: I have never seen Tloche like she has been these last days”.

“Of course, she be worried about this police stuff, no?”

“There’s that, and she might see you as her patient and stuff, but, I know her. I saw how she looked at you during when you first met, she was clearly flirty, I saw her eyes, and how she preened around you… I think she even undid her blouse a little, now that I think about it”. Said the giantess, getting thoughtful.

“Just appearances, no?”

“Hm. By the way, where did she hide you when the patrollers first came? And does she take you to the job and Uni?”

“Many questions, ask Tloche, not my thing to say”.

“Killjoy… not going to pry, but if that means she does not have a claim over you…” the giantess brought her face very close to the little man, who to his credit, did not flinch or sulk. He just looked at her with a pleasant smile. “And since we’ve going to be here a while… and I’m not interested in studying accounting” she tapped the book she had cast on the desk. “I might cash in in the favors you owe me”.

“What you mean?”

Fisotrano sat up, and looking straight at the little man, lifted one fist for him to see. Then her pinkie sprang free.

“One. I did help you get patched up” Her ring finger sprang free. Paa-tshoh nodded.

“Two. I did not rat on you when the patrollers came”. Her middle finger joined the others.

“Three. I did not meddle with whatever is going on between you and her”. He nodded, more reluctantly.

“Four. I just rescued you from the spies and came here to hide you in these clogs. My feet are killing me, dude, these shoes are for looking good, not meant for walking, much less running. And five:” all her fingers were now in the air. “I’m going to take you to her as soon as we get out of here. Granted, some of those favors I could use from Tloche herself, but as she is a good friend, is as broke as I am and I’m sure very upset by whatever it is those thugs are threatening her with, I think I’ll give her a pass and make YOU do to the payment right now”.

“Am even poorer than Tloche… you think I any money carry? and all high-tech I had missing the fire when the crash of my ship”

“Not as poor as you think, as you still have something that comes in very handy, if you pardon the pun. And try as she might, Tloche simply does not have the coin I want to be paid in”. To her delight, Pacho looked completely puzzled at what she might want. She found this quite cute, as it showed he was not as full of himself as many men were, in her experience.

“I want to see it again”.

“Huh????”

“Yes, yes, you know what I mean. It’s actually quite easy, dude. Just stand up, come closer and take your hands away. Cross your arms, hold your head, arms akimbo, I don’t care, as long as you let me see it”.

“Seriously? Ahem… but you see it last time”

“I am, and I did, even held it but…I just wasn’t comfortable with gawking with the other two lasses around. I’m kind of old fashioned that way, not really into three-party stuff, and girls turn me off. But it’s just.the.two.of.us here, ain’t it? Not gonna beg you, though” she said, turning her body and looking him sideways with a knowing smile.

“Easy enough do”, he said, warily, with a little shrug, which she found absolutely adorable. She got her face close, scooting her body and the chair a little way back so she could bend her waist and back to look closer at his eye level without bending he neck awkwardly. She looked him in the eye and then, with a simper, she looked at his hands, which were still covering… but suddenly his hands were at his hips, arms akimbo, and there he was, a handsome miniature man in his full glory before her. Paah-tshoh was not very muscular, but quite fit and tanned, flat stomach and wide shoulders. He had also a nice beard, a little unkempt by now, but that gave the little dude a hardened look that she liked.

Her lips parted in delight a she stared at his nakedness. This made him remember how one day, she was probably eight or something, her mother bought her a male pirate doll she had been pestering her about since she first saw it on a shelf in a local store. She had thought the pirate was quite dashing, and she played with him happily.

And of course, in the second day the doll’s clothes were off and Trano discovered, to her surprise and delight, that the doll was not like her other male dolls, as there was something down there that the other dolls did not have. She kept playing with the pantless doll for like a week when one day her mom was walking by as she played, and then did a double take. The next day the doll was gone, but her appetite for the mysteries of the male body were afoot, and now more than ever.

It was not often she could indulge herself in scrutinizing without going through the hassle of the guy expecting more… but there was no way for Paat-shoh to pressure her, which this time she admittedly found herself desiring he did. The little man’s miniature manhood was very well formed, just dangling there cute and titillating. She wished she had a magnifying glass to study it better. Paat-shoh was not shy, and even, laughing, shimmied his hips playfully so his cock flopped, and she even asked him to do it again, which he obliged. However, she wanted more.

“That’s something very nice you have there….” She purred… “but won’t you make it go up? I like it better that way, you know”

“It do what it wants… not what I tell it. If want more action, need more action from you!”

The gall of this little dude… I think I like it. She extended a finger, but he wagged his at hers.

“No touch… just show, as I do”.

“Ummm…. Fair enough”.

Trano looked around. No one in sight, no footsteps around. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Her hands moved to her bodice.

****

Pacho could not believe his luck. Fisotrano was actually going to do it! With a charming smile, she slowly undid the frog fastenings of her bodice, a effect that was a little spoiled as Pacho noticed her fingernails, unlike Tloche’s (don’t think of her now don’t think of her now don’t think of her now) were bitten to the quick.  And then she reached inside with her hand and pulled out one of her mammoth, shapely breasts. Pacho’s jaw, to Trano’s glee, went slack at the sight of a tit much bigger than him, with large, pink and delicate nipples, barely protruding at all. Trano’s smile widened as this exposure had the desired effect. She bent her head and saw, arousal growing, how the miniature manhood first swelled up and then started to rise.

“No touching yet?” she whispered, sultrily, as she grabbed her nipple and shook her breast playfully. The little man looked very sexy standing there, with his penis jutting forward boldly, giving her all kinds of ideas.

“Please… no” he was staring at her bosom, as hypnotized of her display as she was of his.

“I want to see the end of this little drama we have going on” she brought her face closer, and pursing her crimson lips, blew air, ever so delicately on the miniature, throbbing erection. “betcha I can do it with no hands…”. But then footsteps were heard and she barely had the time to cover herself, close her bodice and sweep a startled Pacho into her lap. Moving the chair closer to the table, she tried to hide the little guy as an old lady walked to her. The little lady, a little squat and smiling, said:

“Alone this time, lass? Could have sworn you were cavorting in here with a guy…. Like the other times. Glad to be mistaken”.

Tloche, blushing furiously, managed to mumble something, before the lady, taking a look at the desk and seeing only a dusty old accounting book (Arake 3012 by the looks of it), left with the same feet dragging she had approached.

All the while, while cowering in the fragant lap of Fisotrano’s miniskirt, he could only think he’d rather had seen Tloche’s body. But he found he rather liked ordering a giantess around.

The walk back home was a total downer for Trano. The arrival of the library clerk had totally ruined the mood when things were starting to get interesting. The little guy was clearly rattled by the rather hasty way she had swept him off the table into her lap, and was careful to cover what he had flaunted before, ever since. Now that she was on the way, she was running in her mind scenarios of all the things she might have said or done to cajole Paat-shoh to play along the decidedly steamy course of action that had started to burgeon in her mind as soon as she both made the little guy lay bare before her and herself agreed and dared to expose her chest in a very exciting game of tit-for-tat. What a waste!

Besides, her feet hurt as hell.

And now that her block came into view, the realization that she would have to give up the little guy to her friend Tloche came with a jumble of conflicting emotions. First, she wanted to spend more time with a guy that clearly had his uses. Second, she was clearly frustrated as she now realized she had gotten really aroused by the antics she allowed herself with the little man, and after walking all this way, her nipples still tingled with desire, which still had not cooled off and craved stimulation and release.

This made the third point more poignant, as she was feeling rather guilty of messing with a man that her friend was clearly interested in. Despite Paat-shoh rather modest remarks, now that she thought about it, Trano now saw that these last weeks, her pale brunette friend had displayed all the telltale signs of unrequited love: listlessness, red eyes, bags under her eyes, avoidance… all completely out of character for the usually hyperactive, focused and tireless Tloche.

It was also clear Paat-shoh was not immune to Tloche’s Charms, despite his words, as he steadfastly refused to let himself be touched by Trano in anything but practical ways, and as she tried to rekindle the sexy ambiance that had been so untimely interrupted by suggesting, only half-jokingly, that she could carry him back home in her cleavage behind her buttoned blouse, but the attempt had fallen flat and he politely, but firmly refused to be conveyed thus, and so Trano had to settle to carry him in her fist, as before, which was less than ideal, more so as his legs were out; walking without moving her left hand was very awkward, especially with the wooden clogs she was wearing.

Her left hand was even more sweaty than before on the way to the library, and now it was even itchy. Judging by his squirming and fidgeting, she suspected it was far more uncomfortable for him, and she felt unreasonably mad at Paat-shoh for refusing her, and she felt bad for being mad, which doubly soured her mood, knowing she was in the wrong. More so as she even briefly entertained the notion of having his way with the guy regardless of his refusal, counting on her womanly wiles to win him over and make him play along willingly in time, an idea that was quickly but reluctantly abandoned as it was a slippery slope into being a sexual offender.

Trano had never let herself get into in such a position, always giving a wide berth to her pals’ boyfriends no matter how interesting or hot (or willing) they were… what if he tells Tloche? Fourth, she was fully aware of the fact that they were on the short list of harassment by the police, which was never a good place to be.

It was amidst this muddle of feelings and thoughts that she made it to the boarding house far earlier than she desired, except for her poor feet, which were screaming bloody murder right now. She found the chief, Miss Taborda, on her knees besides the entrance, busily scrubbing the floor, a bucket beside her. Trano put her hands behind her back to conceal her passenger and greeted her:

“Hello Miss Taborda… just wondering if the emergency has passed…”

“Oh, hello Trano! Yes, the fire department disconnected the alarm and left. False distress signal, it seems, maybe a malfunction. We nearly had another emergency, though”.

“How so? What happened?”

“You should see your friend Tloche. Astaizario, other three girls and I had to carry her to her room after she fainted on us. Good thing Astaizario is a goalie, as she barely managed to keep Tloche from hitting her head on the floor… she dropped like a puppet after cutting its strings… it was so sudden!”

“By the Gods! Is she OK????”

“Yes, yes, she came to her senses after a few minutes”

“Was… was she sick, or injured in the panic?” Said Trano, now thinking it had been a mistake to abandon her friends… had they been beaten or drugged?

“Does not seem like it. However, she was rattled, because she just walked by, saw a little bloodstain on the floor and just dropped like a rock… if she’s going to be woozy every time she sees blood, don’t know what kind of a medic is she going to be…”. Said the chief, shaking her head. “Anyway, something is going on, as she would not answer any of our questions and just rolled on her cot facing the wall and kept weeping very wretchedly, begging us to let her alone. Jablo was also weepy and in no mood to be of any help with Tloche. Go see her and maybe she will talk to you. She’s been paler than usual, so maybe an exaggerated diet, but I rather suspect breeks are mixed in this, they usually at the center of most drama with you girls”, concluded Miss Taborda with all the self-assurance of someone who had never had ANY kind of involvement with males, for good or ill. Trano left her and went hurriedly to see Tloche.

Soon she was in front of Tloche’s room, and as she lifted her right hand to knock, she paused, feeling between the fingers of her left hand the warmth and almost negligible weight of the incredibly delicate and soft body of the little extra-Lurian. Before she could have even more second thoughts, and the wrong ones to boot, she knocked on the door.

Nothing.

Then she knocked again, harder, using her mixed emotions to raise her voice as she said:

“Tloche, it’s me, Trano. It is in your best interest to open this door now, but make yourself presentable, because I’ve got the patrollers here with me, and they are not happy”.

That did the trick, as there was a rustle of clothes, moving of furniture and then a wide, red-rimmed eyed Tloche warily opened the door. After looking around and seeing no policemen, she looked at Trano, not amused. Fisotrano waited until Cantlutloche’s lips parted to snap at her, and then brought her hands from behind her back. The brunette’s jaw dropped as she saw, on Trano’s joined, upturned palms, was Pacho, sitting there naked, hair all tousled and looking up at her, concerned. Before Trano had time to react, Tloche’s hands had already scooped him and she pressed the small being against her bosom, eyes squeezed shut and head lowered, squeezing him there so hard Trano was going to protest for the little guy’s safety when just as suddenly, Tloche asked:

“How…I thought you said…” But Trano, reddening, interrupted her:

“Never mind. Just don’t lose it again” She found herself in no mood for explanations. “Just don’t lose him again, Cantutloche, next time you might not get him back” … although not for the reasons you’d think… I might keep him for myself. Trano wheeled on her heels and left for her own room as she kicked her clogs off her feet in irritation.

Tloche nodded, and without another word, retreated and, the little man still pressed against her breast with her free hand, closed the door with the other.

Pacho did not know if he was offended or flattered by the way Tloche had just nabbed him off Trano’s hands and practically squashed him flat against her bosom with her two hands, hard, squeezing his breath out. If her chest weren’t so yielding, he could have been hurt. 

In any case, he relished being against her skin. Without any hint of perfume on, she smelled wonderful, and her delightfully warm skin was incredibly soft, despite her enormous size; he was too engrossed and relieved to be reunited with Tloche and to be away from the redhead that he did not have the energy to try to understand what the two women were loudly speaking about. To his embarrassment, he felt himself growing hard.  Before he could try to change position, so his hard-on did not poke her, he felt Tloche whirling on her heels, and the pressure on his body relented a little. A moment later, he winced as he heard the door slam.

His world spun again, and he found himself being held by Tloche’s fingers at his sides and lifted carefully until he was in front and very close to her billboard-sized face. His arms were almost pinned by her fingers and he struggled to cover himself as she scrutinized him very closely with her soft, deep and concerned eyes, looking him over to see if he was intact. He noticed how she glimpsed his member and then, conspicuously averted her gaze, reddening noticeably.

He was so embarrassed and aroused that it took him a few seconds to register and understand what Tloche was saying to him, in her soft voice:

-Gaidjuubo wa? Paa-tshoh? Man-kha wuarwi men garatta wa? Akshi kha nimi kha dhjinda djannta na to amawatte paihee djinpaa natta wa zuuu!! (Are you ok? Did anything happen to you? I was so worried, thought you had died on me!!!) she spoke so fast and so loudly that he struggled to catch her meaning, which he mostly did. He was so close to her mouth as she spoke that he, mesmerized with the movement of his sexy, full lips, could see delicate strands of saliva beyond them connecting the top of her mouth with her tongue.

When she locked gazes with him again, he was shocked to witness a veritable fountain, literally liters of tears, flowing from her beautiful eyes, down her smooth cheeks. He could hear the liquid pattering against her bosom; she was covering her mouth with her left hand, and. Her comely face was now reddened and twisted in a scary grimace of grief.  Again, before he could say anything, he found himself pressed against her exceedingly supple cheek, her palm against his back, again with a bit too much force to be comfortable, his breath coming out in a muffled “whoofff”, and the pressure increased even more, alarmingly. She started speaking:

“You could have died… and I never did say… never did dare to...”

Her speech slurring from there into incomprehensible babble as her voice broke and she started sobbing uncontrollably, squeezing him so hard with her trembling hand against her head, which was also bobbing with her sobs, he thought he might pop.

His squirming finally registered, and she gave a few steps, her shaking hands finally depositing him on her chair atop the handkerchief he used as a blanket. He looked up to see her pale arm retreating, her open camisole revealing an enticing amount of cleavage before she knelt and brought her giant face closer to him. Her soft eyes kept scrutinizing him, and her hand even appeared again to turn him around rather roughly so she could inspect his back. He covered himself first in front and then in the back with his hands as she manhandled him and probed him in the back, the head, and the abdomen, prodding and squeezing him softly with her long fingers. He struggled to cover his hardon, which had not completely disappeared, but one hand was not enough, as the other was busy covering his ass crack from her prying eyes. Tloche seemed to catch his embarrassment and annoyance and looked around for his purple makeshift shorts but could not see them anywhere. She straightened and looked away, embarrassed. Then she stood up and turned his back on him.

A few seconds of awkward silence ensued, broken only by her sniffles.

Pacho thought feverishly. The redhead had hinted at that Tloche was interested in him in ways beyond what he dared to hope. He had thought of himself as barely a pet to her, and her demonstrations of worry still did not convince him otherwise, but as he saw her avoiding his eyes, he realized that he had to take the first step if Tloche was to see him as a man and and not as an unwilling, stranded little thing that happened to live with her. He decided to take charge and act.

“Mukwiodó”. (“It is unfair”.), he yelled at her.

Tloche whirled her head as fast as if she had spotted a snake:

“Sorry, Paat-shoh, I did not catch that”. She knelt again and brought her face closer.

“I said it is unfair, Tloche”.

“Ummm…” she looked around. “What is?” her doe eyes looked him straight in the eye, questioningly.

“That I’m the only one naked in here”.

“Sorry… I don’t know what happened to your…”

“I don’t’want them. I don’t like them. I don’t’need them”

“But…”  

“Dear Tloche. If this is going to work, we need to be equates”

“Equates? Sorry, I don’t understand… maybe another word? You mean equals?”

He dropped his hands to his sides and said:

“I meant… that I think being only me the naked is unfair”

Silence ensued as Tloche’s eyes, as if drawn by an irresistible force, went from his eyes, down his body into his exposed manhood, which from nervousness and fear had finally surrendered… mostly. Her jaw dropped; lovely mouth half open. She stayed like that for a few heartbeats before catching herself and looking away, biting her lower lip.

And suddenly, without a word, she stood up so fast that the wind displaced by her body ruffled Pacho’s hair. She stood very close to the chair, and he strained his neck to look the giant woman in the eye, from knee level. He could only see her flaring, ivory camisole in front as the curtain to an immense stage, and up there the swell of her breasts almost covered her face, of which he could see her dark nostrils as she looked down at him with unreadable eyes, dark long hair framing her face, draping over her chest. He began to worry he had made a terrible mistake. Then, in silence, her hands appeared above and she undid the girdle of her camisole, and dropped it to the floor. Her fingers found, clumsily, the buttons which she undid. Then she flared the garment open slowly and deliberately. The colossal, thick satiny fabric slid off her shoulders to the floor in a whoosh. She had been wearing nothing underneath.

Pacho looked up, mesmerized, at the giant edifice of naked, pale and sexy woman looming before him.

Cantlutloche’s legs were slightly spread, her thighs, thicker than any tree Pacho had ever seen, smooth and curvaceous, with a hint of ropy muscles rippling underneath as her stance changed slightly. Her body swayed slightly from one side to the other, as she fidgeted a little.  She was so close to the chair that as she leaned her hips forward, her face was obscured by her body. Her cleft was tantalizingly close, but still well out of reach, and her breasts overhung like boulders, rising and falling with her breath, her flesh quivering slightly with her movements. Her eyes, so far above beyond the flat expanse of her abdomen and the swell of his chest, appeared to look at him shyly before being obscured by her pubes as she leaned her hips forward. Her sparse pubic hair, wiry and as black as her mane, was also as straight and smooth, more than a footspan long in the middle, and shorter towards the sides.

It was not enough to completely cover the vertical fleshy cushions of her vulva, nor her slit, with her rubbery, thick inner lips poking slightly, and again it struck him how prominent her clitoral hood was. Then she unexpectedly turned and walked away from him, pert, enormous buttocks swaying and jiggling enticingly.

She finally turned around to face him and, hands to her back, lean her back against the room’s door, her gaze low and coy, her face slightly flushed. At a distance, the enormity of her was less overwhelming and he found himself admiring anew the curves of her body. Her waist was strikingly slim, contrasting with her wide hips and incredible chest, which was heaving with excitement. The same flush of her face had extended to her breasts.

She rose her gaze slightly to look at him, expectantly.  Her hand appeared from her back, and she covered her crotch as she advanced to bend down in front of his chair to look at him closely, her left hand on her knee. As she did so, her black mane fell across her back and threatened to cover her face. In a gesture worthy of a goddess, she tilted her head back and slightly to the side in a gesture as natural as it was erotic to whip her hair to her back, and, lifting her right arm, swept the remaining hair back with her right hand, her gaze low, never leaving her eyes. Then she got closer.

He could not help to look at her huge breasts crowned by strikingly foot-long erect nipples, hanging freely from her chest as she bowed. He could not fail to notice that in this position her swaying tits were longer than he was tall. She had apparently been gathering her nerve as now, she looked him in the eye for longer and more unabashedly. In the meantime, his hard-on had returned with a vengeance.

****

Tloche could not believe she had dared to stand there naked before Paat-shoh. The combination of excitement and embarrassment made her twitchy. She did not dare, at first, to look him in the eye, so she leaned her head back, tilted her hips forward so he could not see her face and closed her eyes, swallowing to steady herself. Her heartbeat was like a runaway horse. She breathed deeply a few times before peeking over her breasts and hairy crotch at the little man, who was, predictably (and thankfully) like glued to the chair, eyes very wide, but not with horror, but with evident admiration and lust.

Getting increasingly embarrassed, she turned from the little man and walked straight to the closed door, turning again to lean against it, as her legs were unaccountably wobbly. She found herself too shy at first to look back at Paat-shoh, although he seemed to be interested, and she stayed there for a few moments, breathing deeply and trying to decide what to do next, stalling for a little time to think. She was breathing fast and feeling increasingly light-headed with excitement at the prospects of getting intimate with the handsome Paat-shoh, and indulging in her fantasies, which she had thought impossible for so long… she had to restrain the part of her mind that wanted to take over and just use him as her personal plaything… she wanted to be sure he was doing what he wanted and not just complying out of coercion or fear.

Unable to wait for more, she advanced and bent over the chair, unconsciously covering her crotch as her hips were back out of Paat-shoh’s sight, her middle finger sliding through and parting her folds without breaching them… yet. She felt tingling all over as she leaned in and saw Paat-shoh’s manhood rising to the occasion. She stared, mesmerized, as the minuscule penis visibly swelled and rose, jutting more than half an inch from his hairy loins, her lips curving upwards in approval of his wordless but most definitely sincere manly approval of her revealing. Penises did not lie. She looked him up and down, like the most perfect doll ever carved, with every exquisite and manly detail in full view, wide shoulders and dark, bold eyes. His member, despite his size, was very well formed and powerful looking, so much that she could even see minuscule veins running along, and its head glistened wetly.

*****

Pacho watched in incredulity as Tloche’s giant right hand appeared from below, bearing with it a unmistakable smell. It inched closer and closer, while her eyes watched his reactions carefully with lips slightly parted in anticipation. Pacho was like rooted to the chair, looking on with a mix of excitement and trepidation at the slow, graceful movement of the giantess. However, her hand did not grab him, instead passing him by. He felt her warm, soft fingertips pat tentatively his back and the back of his head with tenderness and more delicately than he would have thought possible for such a titanic being.  Then, astonished, Pacho witnessed as the giant woman cocked her head slightly to the side, and then closed her eyes. Then he gave half a step and her face descended over him until her soft, moist lips made contact with his upturned face just as her middle finger slid up across his back and delicately supported his head from behind as she kissed his whole face.

He was wholly unprepared for the incredibly sensuous experience of being kissed by meter-long, warm lips which happened to belong to such a gorgeous woman he had been lusting over for so long and which he, until now, thought was utterly unattainable and out of her league. Her breath was sweet as honey, hot as a furnace and he shuddered as she let out a small moan as the kiss got longer and more passionate.

As he still had his eyes open, he could see her teeth flash as her lips parted and his head slid deeper into the crevice of her mouth, her head tilted slightly sideways for better access. The tip of her tongue made its appearance, again with that uncanny subtlety and he rose up to the challenge, meeting it with his own and grabbing what he could of her mouth and face with his hands in a caress, leaning his face into her even more. He could feel her quiver and gasp with need as both tongues made contact.

She broke the kiss and her face loomed over him, eyes bright, looking him up and down;his face was wet with her saliva, and it felt oddly chilly against the heat of the day. She was even more flushed than earlier. Her gaze zeroed into his member and she bit her lips, getting closer again.

He watched in incredulity as her hand appeared and a tree-sized thumb and forefinger delicately pinched his member, squeezing it playfully before letting it go. Her face got even closer, casting a shadow over him; she was so close that he could only focus on one colossal eye, black, bottomless and intent pupil fixated on his sex, which was grabbed anew, eagerly, before looking him in the eye for approval. He noticed the musk of her sex, so intense that it was now perceivable wafting from below, brought by the warmth of her body, so close now as her head loomed just above him, her sweet, hot and impatient breath washing over him.

By now Pacho was so eager to be touched by this magnificent woman that he had to struggle with himself to stick to his purpose of showing her that her pleasure would come first. Before he could say anything, however, Tloche’s other hand appeared and positioned itself behind him. the pad of the forefinger of the other hand that had been fondling his cock suddenly was raised and pressed softly but inexorably against his chest, and he fell backwards.

He did not fall on his ass because Tloche dexterously caught him with her hand waiting behind him, and just as deftly he was delicately manipulated with her strong fingers until he was on his back, sprawled on the chair, deposited there carefully, Tloche paying special attention to not hurting his head against the wood.  He tried to rise but her left index finger kept him pinned, and his (token) efforts did not even register.

He looked up in mild alarm to see her lovely head get closer, maintaining eye contact, so intensely that he failed to see her right hand until her soft fingers landed tenderly on his right leg, gently spreading his legs and sliding upwards until they touched his penis. He gasped in delight. Then her face descended, and her moist, warm and indescribably soft lips landed on his cock, her nose poking him softly in the chest.

****

After the kiss, Tloche was trembling bodily. Her knees felt like they would give way and she had to breathe deeply to clear her head as she watched, embarrassed, Paat-shoh’s face glistening with what had to be her drool. She had had to restrain herself during the kiss as after she felt his hands and tongue she was all willing to suck the little guy up to his waist into her mouth and lick him with abandon with her tongue inside her mouth, only restraining herself as she did not want to be slobbery and gross. Pushing her embarrassment to the back of her mind, and before she knew it, she had reached out and touched him there.

After she laid her hands on Paat-shoh, Tloche forgot her former inner vow to let him lead and she had him lying on his back in an instant, delicately but purposefully positioning her index and thumb between his legs and spreading them to have better access to his sex, which was now throbbing in the air. Her little man’s eyes were wide as she joyfully got hold of him, and the corners of her lips curved upwards as she could feel his prick alive and palpitating under her fingerpads. Because she did not want to scrape him raw, she deposited a playful, moist and brief kiss on his member to moisten it before grabbing it again to skillfully tug and squeeze it. this was not the first time she did this. Her thumb slid back and forth against the underside of the little fleshy head, and she was rewarded by a shudder of his whole being, and a gasp of unmistakable pleasure….  He was incredibly hard.

He tried to talk, and he grabbed her fingernails, but she delicately covered his mouth with her left index and kept at it. His hips started a familiar rhythm against her hand and his slight protests turned into ragged breaths. This continued for a while until her breaths were rivaling his in intensity. Finally, unable to control herself any longer, he grabbed his warm body and lifted him to her mouth.

Her left hand took hold of his torso, pinning also his arms and her right hand wrapped around his legs, leaving his crotch exposed so her fiery lips could alight on top of it, covering it completely, eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from Paat-shoh as she slurped carefully until she felt his member being encircled, and then she used the tip of her tongue to tickle the underside of his dick’s tip as her moist lips enveloped his hips completely; his body wriggled uncontrollably in her fists. It was not long until he went rigid and then limp, with a protracted grunt, which provoked an embarrassingly loud moan of pleasure from her. She could feel the taste of his release on her lips.

****

Pacho, held aloft in her hands, could only see Tloche’s smooth cheek and fluttering eyelashes close to his head through the fog of desire. She had him enveloped in both her hands so he could not move and he briefly had a pang of fear as her fingers tightened slightly over his frame, clearly able to break him as a stick or crush him into paste if she was careless. But she was not. When he was on the chair he could not think of a way to tell her to stop, that he wanted to pleasure her first, and then he was quite literally, in her hands and about ten meters off the ground being given the best oral sex he had ever been given, so he was unable to speak as she relentlessly and capably sucked him off. In less than five minutes he came, and her foghorn moan as she felt him do it almost left him deaf and shook her ribs almost painfully. He was exhausted, limp and disconcerted as he lay on her hands, looking up at her smiling face and her index finger softly pressing his still thumping cock against his belly, before lifting him to lovingly press him against her incredibly soft cheek, before her lips sought his again.

Pacho’s mind was still reeling as he sat, panting atop his chair. He had been deposited there by a beaming Tloche after he failed to respond to her whispers, as he was still dazed from her ministrations. His giantess was looking down at him with soft eyes, brimming with love, sitting on the floor next to the chair. She was still very much naked; he found herself admiring what he could see of her - her incredibly comely face and her shapely neck and shoulders. He could still smell her saliva on him.

He felt a little guilty for not being able to pleasure her first as he had promised himself he would, but it was difficult to steer lovemaking when your lover could hold you in her fist. He had felt also a little scared when both of her fists grabbed him as she sucked him off… she had been incredibly delicate when handling him, and yet in her ardor she had squeezed a little bit too hard at times, and he realized that the littlest, inadvertent twist of her wrist could destroy his spine or ribcage.

As he did not want to die or be crippled with no hope of medical attention, he supposed they would have to set up some kind of safe word to let her know when she was getting a little carried away… also, he wanted to be more in charge in future sessions and he supposed he should try to establish a precedent.

“Did you like it?” Said Tloche with her husky, sweet voice.

“Oh, it was amazing… I don’t trust my legs to hold me, I’m still trembling, that’s how good it was” said a panting Pacho. “Maybe the best part is that I did not expect any of this… indeed I had lost hope we might connect like this… be this close”.

“I did not want to force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable doing” said Tloche, getting her head closer to Pacho, frowning in concern. “please tell me I did not go too far… did I hurt you in any way?”. The slight pause as Pacho considered his next words caused her to blush and get closer, her nimble fingers appearing from the sides as she expertly probed his body and limbs while she watched his face closely for any signs of discomfort or pain.

“No… I’m fine, Tloche… but I admit I was a little afraid at times, you are very strong”. Pacho almost regretted saying this as her face fell. But before he could say anything else, she raised a slender hand to stop him and again she took the lead, face serious:

“My dear Paat-shoh, I realize our size difference puts you at a huge disadvantage. I, as an aspiring medic, am too aware of the fragility of the human body at my scale, so I can only guess at how everything in this world, including me, must seem overwhelming and scary, and indeed most things can be downright dangerous to you. That is one of the reasons I waited for you to make the first move, because I would be devastated if you were grossed out or scared by me”. Pacho then answered:

“I was afraid I was too feeble and insignificant to be regarded as anything but a pet to you… I feel very constrained as I must depend on you to carry me everywhere. My world has shrunk to the size of tabletops, drawers and pockets. Being on the floor would now be deadly to me, and my little legs can’t carry me very far in your world, and I am naked all the time as all your fabrics are too coarse for me to stand”.

“I have thought long about your situation, Paat-Shoh” answered Tloche. “If I were in your place, I would probably be wetting my knickers half of the time and the other half I would be curled in a ball in a corner. You are very brave. But I have decided that the only way for you not to go mad or feel emasculated and useless around me is to give you more control. You said you were afraid to be relegated to a mere pet. But now I am telling you that you are indeed my pet as much as I am yours. I have never told anyone, and I don’t really know why, but the feeling of having a little man like you around to have his way with me arouses me to no end”.

She stood, as Pacho looked up in awe at her enticing, overpowering nakedness. Her breasts wobbled and bounced hypnotically with her sudden movement, protruding impossibly perkily from her chest. Her sex loomed a little above him, the fleshy cushions of her hairy vulva flexing as she changed her stance. The unmistakable aroma of female arousal hung in the air.

“Let this be my solemn declaration of ownership, Paat-shoh. Everything you see is yours to command and explore”. She knelt just as fast as she had stood, and getting her face as close as she could to him without his little person becoming blurry and unfocused to her eyes, she whispered:

“I will do whatever you want… I’m yours… all yours”. She looked him up and down, sultrily. “Remember, though, you owe me one”.

Pacho looked in incredulity, not knowing what to say, but could not hold back a wide grin.

As she saw him hesitate, she purred:

“Try me”.

Realizing he must grab his chance and at the same time afraid of disappointing her by either being too tame or by going too far by asking her to debase herself (this was more likely), and making her hate him as perv, he decided to thread carefully and go slowly. Therefore, he said:

“Show me your tongue”.

Without hesitation but keeping her head low so Pacho wasn’t left staring at her chin, Tloche tilted her head backwards and extended her tongue out, which stuck out surprisingly long. She remained like that for a few moments, before tilting her head back down, looking him in the eyes as she smiled, licking her lips. She was waiting for his next command. He decided to push his luck a little more.

“Stand up and turn around” She did, looking curiously over her shoulder, black mane streaming over her pale back and shoulders. She gave him a knowing smile as he stared in astonishment as her perky, heart shaped butt right in front of him. She widened her stance and gave her hips a little shimmy, which made her vulva give an alluring peek of the pinkness it concealed, as literally tons of buttflesh wiggled playfully around in front of Pacho. Before she got carried away, he followed up with his next command:

“Bend over and grab your ankles”.

Without missing a beat, she widened her stance a lot more and bent over, legs straight. Her hair swept the ground and she looked at him upside down, while grabbing her calves just above her ankles. The sight was incredible: her taut, strong and shapely thighs spread, wider than any tree he had seen, with her round, sexy calves, her great breasts trembling slightly with the effort of maintaining the difficult position. Of course, Pacho’s attention was grabbed most by her crotch, fully exposed before him, her inner labia swelling strikingly, but at the same time stuck together, without giving a hint of anything beyond. Her scent’s presence had increased noticeably.

From the edge of the chair, he looked down at her increasingly reddening face, which was trying unsuccessfully to hide her mirth. She finally whirled around, sitting down to face him, collapsing into laughter, in which he joined.

“You don’t make things easy, do you?”, she said as she swept back her hair from her face, eyes sparkling.

“I’m just getting started… will you help me down to the ground, please?”.

Pacho looked up in awe at Tloche’s body, looming over him as she straightened. She had set him on the floor in front of her, the world a blur as her crane-like arm moved him from the chair to the ground, enticing giant breasts swinging like bells as she bent over at the waist to release him. He immediately gave a few steps until he was standing between her feet. These were surprisingly dainty for her size, with long, cute toes and well-cared toenails, these unpainted as were her fingernails.

He could see how her toes hugged the ground, making minute adjustments to keep her gargantuan weight steady as she fidgeted above him. Up there, Tloche’s smiling face looked down at him from between her jiggling breasts. He stood there, taking in the enormity of her: her shapely calves and thighs, the black patch of her pubes and all the curves above, including the underside of her breasts and buttocks. He gave a few more steps looking up until her face was no longer visible.

It was incredible looking at her from full below, her beautiful face complete eclipsed by her legs, crotch and butt. He continued walking, still looking up, until one of her eyes, peeking at him over her shoulder, was seen as he looked at her from behind, her black mane streaming over her back. She gave her ass a playful shake, and he felt his loins stir as tons of sexy female butt jiggled above him, separating, and coming together, teasing with provocative glimpses of the unreachable charms in the crevice between them. As her dark eye continued to peer at him, Pacho put his hands beside his mouth to emulate a loudspeaker and yelled to her to dance for him.

From the movements of her head and body, he realized she could not hear him clearly, underlining his insignificance. Before he repeated himself, and with a speed that made him flinch, she gave a careful step back and squatted, slowly and deliberately. Her posture was leisurely and confident, standing on the balls of her feet, forearms in her knees as she looked down at Pacho, clearly posing for her benefit and allowing his scrutiny.

If the womanly panorama was arousing before, now it was almost overwhelming. From his position almost below her, he looked to the sides to the impressive wingspan of her pale, splayed-out thighs, made thicker as her calves and heels pressed against them, outlining the muscles in both and the graceful curves of her knees. As she crouched, he was mesmerized by her spreading cunt and, her round, perky buttocks hanging just beyond. He could not tear his eyes away from the inviting way her folds changed shape and opened like a flower in full blossom as she descended with studied leisureliness. The heady, feral aroma of her lightly furry nethers was stronger than ever, and he could investigate her glistening folds in full view in front of his wide, disbelieving eyes. At this distance, he could clearly see her pink, wet, and now distending opening beyond the ragged remains of her hymen, quite literally frothing and overflowing with her juices.

He looked up at her, searching for her face. The vista of her white thighs spanning to each side, hairy pussy up close, hanging yet perky breasts and her lovely, flushed face just beyond was almost too sexy, too overwhelming. Her eyes were unmistakably glassy with desire, her gorgeous lips parted just so.

Then she moved her hands and he watched, open mouthed, as Tloche reached behind her and grabbed her buttocks with both hands, spreading herself even further, giving a light, keening moan as her fingers dug into her flesh, pussy folds separating obscenely. Pacho watched astonished as the giant woman’s legs above him trembled noticeably, and her cunt hole spasmed visibly and audibly, making a slight trickle of grool overflow from her into her anus, as she struggled to keep her balance.

Realizing she needed release, Pacho called for her to come closer.

Again, with deliberate movements, she stepped carefully back and brought his face closer to him, crouching on the floor in all fours, elbows on the ground. To Pacho’s delight, quite a few strands of her perfumed hair washed over him. Giggling and blushing even more, she swept them back.

Feeling his own legs tremble under the close scrutiny of those beautiful, jet-black eyes bigger than his head, he said (actually yelled):

“Let’s get us to the bed, my dear Tloche”. She smiled, but before she brought her hands to bear, he said, impishly

“But with no hands”.

Her smile widened. With only a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes and her merry mouth approached slowly to his upturned face, sweet breath reaching him first. Once she felt his face touch her lips, she retreated a little and then, licking them in anticipation, opened them wide and before Pacho could appreciate the sensuous close up of her hungry, wet mouth, he felt her sweltering, indescribably soft lips pass his face, and next his shoulders to then close around his waist, sucking at him lightly as Tloche purred, making his chest vibrate as her lightly cusped teeth grazed harmlessly his back and abdomen. His world became wet darkness as he felt his feet leave the ground.

The sinking feeling Pacho got as soon as Tloche straightened herself, lifting him dozens of feet into the air was only one of the many odd sensations he had in a space of a few seconds, all of them equally unexpected, exhilarating and terrifying: the sweltering, rosy-sweet smelling darkness that surrounded him, the tip of her enormous tongue bracing itself delicately on his face, tasting him and probing his features, the tip of his dick being rubbed by the soft hairs under her lower lip, the slight, wet suction of her cushion-like lips around his waist, holding him in place (and keeping him from falling to 20 meters to his death, and keeping his abdomen just away from the sharpish cusps of her lower incisors), the vibration he felt as she took a few steps with him on her mouth, his legs kicking free in the air outside, and the protracted growl-like moan that shook his bones, yet it was utterly feminine and maddeningly inviting.

After a very confusing set of ups and downs, twirls and experiencing a few gs which left him dizzy, she finally settled, and he felt his feet alight on soft, warm ground. Light again entered his world as she slid her tongue under him and opened her mouth. He braced his hands against her lower teeth and pushed himself out of her maw, sliding easily off her tongue.  Looking around, he saw he was standing on the slender muscles of her right shoulder, her peach-like fuzzy body hair tickling his toes. She was laying on her bed, head propped on pillows. After being in her sweltering mouth, Pacho felt the outside world as almost chilled, soaked as he was in her perfumed, thick saliva from the waist up.

Her agitated, blazing breath washing over him, he looked up at the erotic spectacle of her moist, opened giant mouth, full glistening lips and white teeth, slick, delicate strands of saliva connecting the lower to the upper reaches of her mouth. Even higher, he could see her glazed eyes, half closed, looking down at him through foot-long eyelashes. Her mouth closed, biting her lower lip as the two lovers stared into each other eyes. Then Pacho could not help himself and got closer to her mouth once again. Sensing his intent, she tilted her head sideways towards her shoulder, closing her eyes, pursing her lips slightly.

Pacho kneeled on her shoulder, bracing his hands on the soft skin of her chin and upper lip, taking just a moment to take in her scent and admire up close the incredible texture of the velvety, pale (if slightly flushed) skin of the giant woman, and the equally enormous, sexy meter-wide lips just inches in front of his eyes, and the glossy and beguiling vertical slit that awaited him as she tilted her head expectantly.

 First, he tasted her lips, licking them up and down, delighting in the sweet taste of her, and the infinitely soft and desirable texture of her lips, trembling himself as he felt a noticeable tremor shake her whole body in anticipation. He then plunged his whole face into her lips, rubbing his head sideways until his whole face was enveloped inside, up to his ears.

It wasn’t long until he felt her tongue reappear, questing for his mouth, and he offered it eagerly, opening as wide as he could. Tloche explored his lips and teeth carefully and with incredible precision, and as he himself brought his own little tongue into the fray, she again shook him with a throaty, protracted and undeniably needy, womanly purr which on itself almost made his loins explode right there and then. Pacho almost flinched as he felt the unexpected pad of one of her fingers lightly land on the back on his head and press almost imperceptibly.  He acquiesced and pushed his head all the way inside, feeling her lips settling wetly on his shoulders.

He enjoyed the surreal sense of being lightly sucked on like a living lollipop, as he made up with a giant eager and nimble tongue. He ended the kiss, gasping almost as hard as she was. Then her husky voice begged him:

“I’m all yours, my dear Pacho, yours to use and explore… yours to command, today and always… please tell me what to do… please… please…”

Trembling with more desire than he ever felt, he turned his head to watch the bodyscape before him. Tloche was languorously kneading her left breast with her left hand, the right one on her forehead as she gasped. Her parted legs in the distance were slowly sliding against the sheets and against each other impatiently. Her chest and abdomen swelled and fell quite a few feet with her agitated respirations.

Pacho crawled to her unoccupied right breast, delighting in the feeling of yielding titty-flesh under his hands and knees, slightly moist with perspiration, her whole body quivering in anticipation. He stopped right before her pink areola, almost two feet wide. He sat atop her breast with her nipple between his legs, looking incredulously at the wrinkled nub, sticking out almost a handspan out. Then, glad his back was to her as he was sure it would look gross, he spat as big of a dollop of his own saliva on top of her nipple as he could. He was almost dislodged from his perch as she gasped and jumped when his spit made contact with her nipple.

Pacho then proceeded to carefully and slowly lather his spit on it, squeezing and sliding his fingers on the sides as he felt it swell, wrinkle and respond to his touch until it was more than a foot long, tingling between his fingers. Tloche’s breath became more and more ragged, and her chest heaved so much he had to lay on his belly as he continued to caress her, getting his face closer to her nipple, licking, pulling and squeezing and rubbing his bearded face and lips on it, looking from time to time down her belly to her shapely thighs, alternately fidgeting close only to flail open anew as she squirmed uncontrollably under him, increasingly agitated. The bitter yet alluring scent of her sex wafted towards him. He looked uneasy at her other breast, which was being lifted, squeezed and dimpled so strongly under her nimble fingers that he knew he would not survive if he was there.

Suddenly Tloche hunched and grunted very much unlady-like, and then she squirmed in an uncontrollable paroxysm, gasping and giving out barely contained little moans. It was all he could do to grab onto her nipple, as she heaved and tossed, while Pacho looked in disbelief as her angelic face contorted and scowled, eyes tightly closed, while her mouth opened in a feral grimace of pure pleasure.

She slumped on the bed, out of breath and unable to speak, but a trembling hand pulled on Pacho’s legs, away from her too-sensitive nipple, only to rest lightly and lovingly on top of him, pressing her against her breastflesh, awash in the scent of her. A few seconds passed… then her voice returned…

“Please… more… Paat-shoh… more… I’m begging you…”

 Sliding from under her sweaty fingers, Pacho, not trusting his footing or his trembling legs, crawled until he was on top of Tloche’s quivering belly. He could not believe the thrill of getting a building-sized woman off, and literally having her begging for more… he was only getting started.

He turned to face her as he reached her belly button. She was grasping her breasts with both hands, trying to calm down… but her eyes were still clouded by lust. Pacho decided to take advantage of the giantess urges to be dominated and ordered around.

“My beautiful Tloche… open yourself to me… grab your ankles and spread yourself”.

Without hesitation, Tloche complied, her feet leaving the bed with legs bent, her thighs tucking in close to her belly and and then her hands landed on her calves and slid to her ankles, pulling them down toward her sides. The scent of her sex increased tenfold, even more as Pacho turned and crawled until he could feel the change from the indescribably soft fuzz on her tummy to her wiry pubic hair, as straight and dark as the one on her head. Once in the middle of the tuft of knee-high hair, he stood.

Tloche immediately made eye contact, her eyes flashing at seeing him there. The sight of her was unutterably sexy, with her pale thighs to each side, dainty feet up in the air not far from her head, her wide-open eyes, impish, smiling red lips and jiggling breasts, flattened to her chest. However, he saw her straining to keep that position and yelled instructions, so she supported her elbows on the back of her knees and put a pillow under her hips.

Pacho then turned to her core, this time crawling carefully backwards until he was laying along her slit on the furry sides of her supple vulva, slick with her spilled juices. He took a little time to examine her at leisure. The smell, textures and shapes of her cleft were all intense and garishly female.

Her inner labia, which he had seen from afar before only peeking from withing her sparsely furry outer ones, were now swollen, flaring out in meaty, rubbery and textured slabs, quivering as she moved. He could see her bulging, baseball-sized clitoris, palpitating visibly in and out of its hood, and the throbbing hole of her cunt, frothing with sticky, thick and transparently opaque ooze, which was and surely had been overflowing into her taint for a while now. Indeed, her whole cunt was veritably spasming, ragged hymenal tags around the soppy, contracting orifice an unwelcome reminder that at some point in the past it had been invaded at least once with a colossal cock that ended Tloche’s maidenhood. He could even glimpse her pee hole, which was also throbbing alongside its greater neighbor below.

Pacho looked up, trying to see Tloche’s face but he found that unlike the hair he was laying on, the tussock of hair on her mons obscured her features. An impatient moan from above reminded him why he was there and he approached her clit, again scrutinizing it up close before attacking it. First, he slid his finger alongside its bulk, with no reaction but a slight tremor of her hips, but when he slid his whole hand under her clitoral hood and squeezed, she let out a moan that would have rivaled a foghorn had not Tloche’s smothered it by covering her mouth with her hand.

Encouraged, he slid his other hand under the other side of her button and then kissed it forcefully as he massaged and squeezed her clit. Her hips gyrated and hurled so much he was nearly dislodged, but Tloche’s helping hands appeared. One supported him as he worked, warm tree-like fingers keeping him steady, while the index finger of the other pressed the skin just above her clit hood, so it protruded even more so the tiny lover could grab and pleasure more of it. His foot tickled her almost gushing pussy opening, as he sucked and grazed her clit with his teeth, smiling as he heard her stifle screams of pleasure with her pillow.

“I need…. you inside me… now… I don’t… care… how…. Please…Paat-shoh… Paat-shoooh…” she finally gasped.

He had been anticipating it as the next step, considering how to best go at it, so he had to climb up through her pubic hair to yell more instructions. Trembling hands appeared and he was deftly grasped and whirled around as Tloche also sat up, and turned so she was face down on the bed, lowering her hand from behind towards her ass and between her legs. Standing on her upturned hand as a platform, Pacho faced the pink, frayed hole before him not without trepidation. Sparing a glance up toward her magnificent, trembling buttocks, he grabbed the sides of her cunt and pushed himself inside, aided by his legs pushing against her helpul, eager fingers, until he was waist up in pussy. He felt her hand leave and the soft inner thighs of the woman press together as she closed her legs.

There was almost no air, and the few that there was was almost unbearably hot. The tight tunnel he was in was slick, and alive with ripples and contractions. Feeling around on her inner walls with his hands in the stifling dark, he was relieved to graze a rougher, spongier spot with his fingers where the “roof” of her vagina was, now being the “floor”, since she was lying face down, and he felt Tloche’s vagina spasm accordingly when he made contact. Having found her g-spot, and thankful because these giant women had the same parts and reacted just as the ones he knew, he started rubbing and pressing it furiously.

****

Tloche squirmed and writhed in the afterglow of the best orgasm she ever had, smothering her last moans on her poor suffering pillow. Her little Paat-shoh was much better at this than she ever had hoped. Gods, she had to admit she was not expecting much anyway. But she had clearly underestimated him.   Whatever he did in there had never been done to her before, and at one point she was actually afraid she was going to pee herself. As the contractions in her subsided, she panicked as she remembered Paat-shoh. Stiffening, not daring to move, her hand darted out to her ass, between her legs. Feeling around, she felt nothing. Spreading her thigh and drching her back (this would be much easier if she was on her back), she inserted a finger inside her and felt around. Nothing…

****

Pacho sat half-dazed, looking up at Tloche’s magnificent crotch looming above him. He had slipped out (more like gushed out) in one of the (rather strong) contractions of her cunt and slid in a panic until he hit the mattress. He had been a witness of the surprisingly strong spasms of her asshole, her taint and indeed her whole vulva throbbed and leaked an amazing amount of sticky womanly goo, her moist folds making audible (to him) slurping noises. The contractions lasted a long time, too. He looked around uneasily as her thighs got dangerously close as she convulsed around him.

Suddenly he saw her buttocks clench as her whole body froze. Then she relaxed, and her hand appeared from above and started pawing at her vulva. Pacho stared, slack-jawed, as his loins reignited at the sight of her supple vulvar flesh being probed by her long, slender fingers, and she even inserted her middle finger inside her, wriggling it around inside her slowly, until he realized she was looking for him. He called out loud her name. But it was clear she could not hear him from back below her ass. Then the bed trembled.

Pacho stood still as her gigantic legs dragged a little forward, and then her ass rose as she kneeled carefully. Pacho looked at her pussy folds spreading above him when she kneeled, a two foot long, arm-thick gobbet of pussy juice dangling precariously from her still distended cunt hole. Soon he was spotted, and he barely held from flinching as her splayed hand moved too quickly to grab him in her fist. Again, his stomach did flip-flops as he was raised too fast for his liking towards her beaming face. Her hair was in total disarray, sticking out in all directions, which only made her cuter. She opened her hands and unceremoniously turned him this way and that, making sure he was ok, with an even cuter frown that he supposed was her “I’m a doctor” face.

Seeing he was OK, as he himself told her, she answered him that they both needed a bath. She deposited him on the table while she put a loincloth and bathrobe on. Then she plucked him again lovingly and, looking him in the face for approval (which she saw), tucked him in the front of her loincloth only arms and head sticking out; he felt his feet grazing at her pubes. After a few steps to insure he was safe in there, she strode out of the room.

Being a beautiful woman, and since her body started to get womanly curves a few years back, Tloche was not a stranger to the feeling of being stared at by men and women alike. As she walked through campus early in the morning, she was horribly conscious of the warm, oftentimes wriggling, ticklish and maddeningly arousing presence of her lover traveling tucked away between her breasts, and she looked down too many times to check there wasn’t any conspicuous lump betraying his presence through her shirt.

 She was convinced everyone was looking at her chest, and she worried the spooks that had paid her an unwelcome visit were around looking for signs of little invaders being carried around on her person. As she walked, trying not to look suspicious, Tloche was also annoyed as she was now also very conscious of how much her boobs moved around when she walked, something usually she was only aware of when for some reason she walked briskly down flights of stairs.

She could feel the poor little man changing positions every time her breasts jiggled particularly strongly. She imagined him being thrown around uncomfortably, and at some points during her walk to the lab she thought she could feel him quite a few times sliding and pushing against her increasingly perspiring flesh with his little hands and feet so he was not dragged and smothered by a tossing, yielding breast trying its best to run him over. It was quite distracting, and she was thankful she had decided to stuff some padding into the strap women in her country used to support their breasts, because feeling him there had her nipples tingly and hard, and they would be showing through the fabric in her shirt if it was not for the padding.

The early hour warranted few passersby, but she felt like the few she encountered were scanning her with their eyes. However, she did not run into any acquaintance until she got to the university lab’s building. There she met the porter, Ms. Durrotessiu, who was always kind and chatty with Tloche, but today she was not in the mood for small talk… she had a mission.

However, she smiled and nodded as Mrs. Durrotessie prattled on for a few minutes… a few hellishly long minutes during which she could feel sweat starting to run down her back and between her breasts as she began to get more and more flustered. She found it oddly arousing to be chatting with someone who was entirely oblivious Tloche had a (naked! And very attractive) man stuck between her tits at the time. These were now almost painfully sensitive, and she could feel heat in her face from a confusing mixture of embarrassment and horniness.

Now that she was standing still listening to the old lady talk, she noticed the inside of her thighs was slick and cool under her long, flowing skirt, slimy with the overflow of her inner juices as she fidgeted in place, the inside of her thighs also incredibly sensitive as they rubbed against each other. The sudden stop and subsequent out-of-rhythm tit bounce as she reached the checkpoint at the entrance of the lab building had also pushed her little passenger uncomfortably under one breast.

It was not as she could reach into her decolletage to make her breasts more comfortable in front of the old lady…. Tloche felt Paa-tshoh tried to stay still at first, but the conversation was taking too long… he began to squirm and at some point he slid up against her sweaty breast until Tloche felt a feathery touch grazing her now very stiff nipple.

A shiver ran down her back, goosebumps burst all over her and she felt her face heated even more and she barely managed to cover the resulting her grunt-moan with an oddly high-pitched throat-clearing sound, which the little stowaway perplexingly took as a signal to increase his grabbyness. But incredibly, Mrs. Durrotessie did not notice anything was wrong. Tloche suffered in silence as the minutes stretched into infinity along with the steady stream of sweat on her face and breasts, and as she felt a weird ticklish sensation down one thigh that was quite likely a trickle running down her thigh as her traitorous crotch drooled in anticipation… as she had decided not to wear a loincloth under her skirt, there was nothing to staunch the warm seep.

Finally, she managed to go past Mrs. Durrotessie without being rude and she went upstairs to the lab, checking behind her that she wasn’t leaving a trail of grool, which thankfully she was not… yet.  There was no one in the building, as was almost warranted by the day (weekend) and the hour (early). She finally opened the door with her key and closed it behind her. After locking it back, she leaned with her back against it, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breath. Her legs felt like rubber.

****

Pacho had ridden in cars, boats, planes, helicopters, horses, camels and even elephants during his time in India, but he found riding on a giant woman to be both exhilarating and difficult. Tloche had offered to carry him between her giant mammaries early in the day to some unspecified errand in her Uni. He said yes without thinking it through, as he was bored with riding on her fanny pack and he had confessed to Tloche that he was afraid she could crush him inadvertently by brushing against another giant. It was safer, she said only half-jokingly to carry him in her “special pocket”, as she called it.

As bras were not used, not even invented in this country at least, women only used a strap of thick cloth to support their chests, tying it like a sash. Well-endowed women like Tloche also used a longish strap which they looped around the armpits so the back of the neck supported the not insignificant weight of the fleshy, bouncy orbs, between a pair of which he was now traveling. It was indeed bouncy, hot, and eventually wet.

As her tits became slicker with the heat of the day and of his own body heat against them, they tended to jiggle, separate and come together with her steps in unexpected ways. It did not help that she started to walk at a hurried pace, clearly eager to get to her destination. Each time she turned a corner, got down or up a sidewalk or stopped, he found himself in danger of slipping under hundreds of kilos (a few tons, perhaps), of jumping, perpetually moving titflesh.

Finally, it happened and after he felt Tloche went up a short flight of steps which made her tits lurch like wild horses, she suddenly came to an abrupt stop and he found himself between her unberboob and the strap, his face against her skin. Fortunately, her tit was very yielding, so he was not crushed and the only problem was the terrific heat and humidity. Then some other giant started talking to Tloche and the giant girl started sweating much more, incredibly. The scent of her skin was amazing.

Even her sweaty cleavage smelled womanly and wonderful, and as he lay sprawled against her, his irreverent dick stood to attention. Then it became too hot, and he feared he was going to suffocate there before the conversation was over. He started to heave and crawl against the cloth and managed to step on a helpful wrinkle in the strap and he felt the top of his head bump into her something hard that was not cloth nor flesh. As he reached up with his hand. Intrigued, he discovered it was her nipple. Unseeingly in the semi-darkness of her cleavage, he ran his fingers along the full foot-long, rubbery nub, Pacho felt the giant body shiver noticeably, and when he grabbed it and pulled himself up so his face was in the slight void created by the stiff nipple against the fabric, Tloche made a strange, strangled sound. Not long after she finally resumed walking. Then, after the jingle of keys, and the rumble of doors opening and closing, all was still.

****

When her breathing had returned to almost normal, Tloche approached one of the scrupulously clean worktables and put her purse on one, delving among its messy depths. Smiling mischievously, she scooped out a small ping-pong paddle-like racket and a small roll of wound-tape. Then she sat on a stool and draped her chest atop the table, delighting on the feel of the cool wood against her now beyond warm breasts. Unbuttoning her shirt, she opened her neckline and beckoned the little man out.

Her lips curved up once more as he walked around on the table, his woody already very evident. He looked around quizzically, and then up at her. She thought:

“If you knew what I have planned…”