There
was a sound of thunder. Quakes shook the land, as Caitlin made her
way through a back road. It was a simple dirt path, carving through a
forest. The trees barely made it to her ankle. In fact, such an
assessment was rather generous to the trees. Beyond the forest lay a
suburban neighborhood, a neighborhood she easily towered over. Were
the sun not setting in the west, Caitlin would have easily cast a
shadow over a significant amount of the properties.
She
grimaced as she glanced ahead. Her home was not far off. It stuck out
as always, a blocky gray monolith among the comparatively minuscule
dwellings that stood near it.
Even
as she made her way, there was a notable limp in her gait. Every time
she moved her right leg, the soft of her foot would act up. The pain
was sharp, as if a pair of claws were tearing the tendon within. She
made sure to keep her weight upon her left foot, yet even that could
not stifle the agony she beared.
It
felt like an eternity before she made it to the entrance. Andrew’s
garage was oriented towards the neighborhood. The door that stood
before her was situated near the back of the house, allowing easy
access to the path she had just tread. Such was necessary, or her
transit to the construction site would be a destructive one, no
matter how much caution she practiced.
She
practically fell through the entrance, her boots thudding against the
floor. Her construction gear felt heavier than normal. It was a
relief to take off her hard hat, allowing matted hair to fall over
her face, her ears and her neck.
Next
were her boots. Caitlin had to lean against a wall in order for her
to comfortably remove the heavy footwear. For good measure, she also
threw off her thick brown jacket, leaving a clearly undersized tank
top to cover her torso.
It
took a minute to shed her boots. She endured another pang of agony
that shot through her foot. There was a great temptation to let out a
curse, but Caitlin stifled such an instinct.
It
took a great deal of effort to lumber through the kitchen to the
bedroom. Were she not a giantess, Caitlin’s house would be
considered positively minuscule. The door to the outside was rather
close to the entrance to her bedroom. She was practically leaning
against the door as her body stumbled through.
Andrew
witnessed the titanic form of his wife shift into the bedroom. He had
taken a small nap on the pillow, but had been stirred the minute he
heard Caitlin enter the house. Concern overcame his face as he
witnessed her limping gait. Such a sight was comparable to a
collapsing skyscraper, yet his worries lay more with the skyscraper,
rather than whether he would be caught in the path of destruction.
And
concerned he should have been about himself. His comparatively
minuscule form had jumped down from the pillow, and raced towards the
edge of the bed to greet Caitlin. Yet his wife, occupied with her
strained foot, did not notice his presence.
Still,
he shouted out to the approaching colossus, “Hey Cait, are you
alright? Did something happen at work?”
Giantesses
possessed a heightened sense of hearing, particularly when it came to
human voices. This, however, was to no avail. Andrew’s vocal chords
could only project so much sound that Caitlin could pick up on. Her
distracted disposition did not help matters.
She
loomed over the bed. Andrew was about even with her thighs. It was
always awe-inspiring, among other things, to be flanked by two
overwhelmingly massive pillars. The fact that they were concealed
behind dark-blue denim detracted little from their majesty. He dared
not look upward, for the view there promised to be even more
enticing.
So
transfixed was Andrew, that he did not wonder why his wife was
turning her back to the bed. So fixated he was, that it did not
register when her jean-clad rear, like a falling meteor, descended
towards where he stood.
It
was only when Caitlin’s tush had completely overshadowed him, that
Andrew realized his predicament. He did not bother to shout out to
Caitlin, his voice would be impeded by massive barriers. Instead, he
scrambled forwards.
A
giantess taking a seat is not such a mundane event to those far
smaller than her. The mattress was not very stiff, and thus, when
Caitlin’s weight was brought to bear, the terrain sank. Andrew
found himself out of immediate danger, for he had surpassed in impact
zone. Yet impacts had shockwaves. He had to grip the comforter, lest
he slid down the incline created by his wife, down to her crotch.
Caitlin
leaned over, resting her elbows on her legs. A small groan escaped
her lips. Her head hung over, allowing brown hair to cascade down.
Her
eyes widened, as she was able to spot who lay between her legs.
“Crap!”
she exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”
She
scooted back, as well as widening her legs, giving Andrew more
breathing room. The bed quaked, and he dared not stand up, for the
shifting terrain would make balance tricky. As he looked back up, he
saw a wave of relief wash over his wife’s face.
“No
worries, I thought I’d be able to avoid you with that limp,” he
cheekily replied.
A
sheepish grin crossed Caitlin’s face.
“You
noticed eh?”
“Honey,
you’ve got the grace of a Tyrannosaurus, but now, you’re just a
Bronto.”
Caitlin
assumed an expression of faux-offense, “Don’t call me a
Tyrano-whatever! I bet I’m way bigger!”
“And
heavier.” Andrew added on with a smirk.
A
denim-clad leg shifted. Andrew found himself under a great shadow.
Gradually, he felt the titanic weight of Caitlin’s thigh settle
down upon him. Her jeans were softer than they appeared, for they had
seen many years of use, even before they were even married. It
possessed a distinct odor that was a mix of fabric, and stale sweat,
something which made it uniquely Caitlin.
Despite
the force now pressing down upon him, Andrew was in no pain. The soft
mattress beneath him, cushioned with layers of comforter and
bedsheets took the brunt of the weight. He was certainly pressed
deeper into the surface. His back was tightly hugged by the contours
of the comforter, while his front had been consumed by his wife’s
thigh. It was a complete hug of fabric, a prison of oppressive
comfort.
Caitlin
felt another spike of pain, and moved her thigh off of her husband.
Andrew was given a clear view of her face, twisted in agony. He too,
felt a twinge of pain, more from empathy, and not from the avalanche
of jean-clad flesh he recently found himself under.
“Frickin
a, I can’t even torment you properly,” she lamented.
Once
he sensed his wife settled down, Andrew took the time to stand up.
Her “torment” had certainly straightened at least one thing out,
but her current predicament stifled his excitement. He placed a fist
upon his chin, giving an impression of contemplation.
His
contemplation did not last long, for he suggested in short order,
“You should probably call in for tomorrow.”
Caitlin
furrowed her brow, “No way!”
Andrew
winced from the force of Caitlin’s shout. The mere air pressure
emitted from her mouth almost sent him on his back, not to mention
the volume of her voice was quite powerful as well. Still, he had
become a veteran of dealing with giantess outbursts, and managed to
steady himself.
“You’ve
been on the job ever since you’ve been employed,” he explained,
“Throughout your employment, you’ve only taken 24 hours of
vacation.”
His
wife raised an eyebrow, “How do you…”
Andrew
tapped his head in response, “It’s a requirement for my own job.”
Caitlin
rolled her eyes. A hand reached for Andrew. He was pinched, held by
her thumb and two fingers. Methodically, she placed him on the
nightstand.
Grunting,
Caitlin managed to shimmy her pants off. She smirked, feeling her
husband’s wandering eyes upon her bare thighs, bulging with flexed
muscle. Grey fabric concealed her privates, and she contemplated
shifting her position to give Andrew a better view. Her sore foot
brought her out of that line of thinking, and she continued, with
great strain, to free her legs from the confines of her jeans.
She
considered grabbing some shorts to cover up her undergarments, but
decided the journey to her drawer was not worth it. It lay a short
distance a way, but her sore foot complicated matters. Instead she
brought her legs on the bed. Her socks were discarded by her feet,
although using her right foot to uncover her left caused her
significant pain.
As
her head settled upon the pillow, she sighed, “Tomorrow’s gonna
be a bitch.”
Upon
the nightstand, Andrew found himself close to her face. His view
couldn’t even account for it’s entirety. He found himself solely
gazing into gargantuan eyes. “You should probably spend the day
icing it down.”
“If
you get paid to work, you work.” she refuted, “My Dad always said
that.”
Once
more did Andrew bring a fist to his chin. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose…”
Dark
eyes scanned the expanse of the giantess’ form. They settled on her
bare feet, resting near the end. Such a simple sight was made grand
from the sheer scale and distance Andrew found himself from her. At
least, parts of her. Were Caitlin his size, he could simply walk in
the span of a second to reach her feet.
Making
the distance would be significant exercise at the very least in his
current situation.
Bringing
his attention back to her face, he asked, “Does that at least feel
better?”
Caitlin
nodded slightly, shifting the pillow, “It’s a bit sore, but sure
beats walking.”
Andrew
inhaled deeply, before bringing his idea to light, “I can help out
with that, you know.”
Silence
emerged between the two. Caitlin let out a small huff, before giving
him a knowing glance. Before long, her arm, previously prone at her
side, reached out.
Andrew
was taken from the night stand. He managed to fall into her palm. The
skin there was slightly calloused, but at the very center, where he
was held, there was a tenderness that he rather appreciated.
He
would not get an opportunity to appreciate it for long, for her hand
tipped, depositing Andrew next to her waist upon the bedsheets.
Andrew wasted no time, taking off on a jog. He devoted little time to
appreciate the thigh to his side that formed a wall easily three
stories high. Eventually, the thigh tapered off to a knee, which was
only two stories high; not as impressive.
Making
it to her feet, he rounded the corner, making it past her left foot,
and settling in front of her right. Placing his hand upon her heel,
feeling the tough, yet flexible skin, a smile crosses his face. A
distinct odor crossed his nose, yet he persisted in not succumbing to
disgust.
He
peered around the inside of the foot, if only to project his voice to
his wife’s ears, which currently lay behind hundreds of feet of
leg, waist, and chest. In fact, because of her chest, Caitlin’s
face remained obscured.
“So,
where’s the damage?”
Caitlin
bent her neck up, “Right in the middle, right inside the arch.”
An
arm stretched up, not even making it past the jut of her heel.
Peering around again, Andrew shouted once more.
“You
mind?”
Caitlin
felt a blush flush her cheeks a slight shade of red. She turned her
foot to the side, allowing her pinky toe to rest upon the bed, while
her big toe still hung in the air. Andrew wasted no time
repositioning himself against her arch.
Nimble
hands pressed into more tender skin. Beneath, Andrew felt a distinct
rut, and focussed his efforts there. He heard a sharp gasp from his
wife in response.
In
a way, it was almost magic, as every trace of pain evaporated away.
Caitlin felt her foot loosen, as if strings that had been binding it
ever since she had tweaked it, had become undone. As she basked in
the feeling of relief, she murmured, “Gosh, you’re doing an even
better job than I could.”
“Massages
feel better when someone else is giving them.” Andrew responded.
“Point
taken,” replied Caitlin. A small smirk crossed her face, “Hope
you don’t mind the smell”
A
shade of red bloomed upon Andrew’s cheeks.
“It’s
a bit much,” he admitted, “but I can manage.”
Story
of your life with me, eh? Caitlin mused, as she felt her
eyelids become heavy. It became a struggle to maintain consciousness,
for it was the first time of the day she had a chance to truly relax.
Soon enough, she had fallen asleep.
By
the time her eyes opened once more, it was clear that time had
passed. Her maw opened wide, letting out a breathy yawn. “Oh man,
how long was I out? It isn’t morning yet, is it?”
“Relax,”
assured her husband, still at her foot, “It’s only been half an
hour.”
Caitlin’s
gaze focused upon Andrew’s form, completely outclassed by her foot.
There was not much she could make out of him, least of all, what
expression he was wearing. What she could tell, was that Andrew was
hard at work. There was a small warmth within her chest simply
observing the sheer difference in scale. It was as if he were washing
the side of a wall.
“And
you’re still going at it?” she commented.
“I
can do this all day,” Andrew declared.
A
mischievous thought crossed Caitlin’s mind, as she replied,
“Really?”
Her
foot turned over, trapping Andrew underneath. He was pressed into the
arch. There wasn’t as much pressure applied if happened to have the
misfortune of being under either the ball, or the heel. Still,
smelly, sweaty skin had been forced against the entirety of his body.
His breath would inhale a full, unrestrained dose of pungent odor
that tingled the sense, and filled the lungs.
By
doing this, Andrew had ceased his labors. Caitlin was rewarded with
another bout of pain, and responded by giving out a strained yelp. By
reflex, her foot veered off of Andrew, giving him relief from her
foul oppression.
Andrew
did not bother bring himself to his feet, for an idea had popped in
his head. A terrible, wonderful, awful idea. He could not match this
idea with a gross smile, yet the thought certainly excited him.
“Everything
alright?”
Caitlin
had managed sit up just enough to get a clear view of her husband’s
sprawled form. With baited breath, she awaited a stir of movement
from him.
“I
was just thinking,” she heard him respond, allowing herself to
exhale.
“What
exactly?”
Andrew
sat up, “How about I help you get through your workday tomorrow.”
An
eyebrow rose upon the colossal woman’s face, “How do you figure
to do that?”
“Easy,”
Andrew claimed, “I’ll just massage your foot until you clock
out.”
Caitlin
immediately shook her head, “You have work tomorrow as well, don’t
you?”
“I
can call the day off.” he countered, “I have paid time to spare.
Lawrence doesn’t mind, and if I say I’m helping out my wife, I’m
sure he’d understand.”
“But
… but …” she protested. Her objections were soon reduced to a
series of inaudible mumbles. Silvery eyes shifted to the side, and
she could only pray that the blush that occupied her cheeks would go
unnoticed.
“You
don’t have to do that for me!” It was at this moment that Caitlin
felt as a petulant child trying to refuse something a parent
suggested.
“I’m
afraid I’m martially obligated to. ‘In sickness and in health’
remember?”
“I
can do this without using you as a footstool!” the giantess
declared. Even at her feet, Andrew could still feel the immense
pressure her powerful vocal chords could generate.
To
prove her claim. Caitlin swung her foot over the edge of the bed,
making sure Andrew was left untouched. But even as she placed weight
down on her foot once more, her foot cramped up again, far more
powerfully than before. In such pain was she, it was preferable to
jam her foot into the joint of a door, than remain standing.
Remain
standing, she did not. Her rear crashed back into the bed, the shock
sending Andrew into the air for but a few feet.
It
was through gritted teeth, she then conceded, “You win this time
buster.”
…
Caitlin
was stirred awake through the blaring of her alarm. “6:00” read
the digits upon the digital interface. An arm lazily reached out,
before smacking the clock, effectively silencing the blaring klaxon.
She
rolled her head to the opposite side. To her surprise, Andrew was
already up, standing on his own two feet upon the pillow they shared.
“Morning,
you ready to work?”
Her
mouth opened wide in response, allowing a breathy yawn to pass. It
was assured Andrew would be bearing the full brunt of her morning
exhale, along with everything else that was allowed to ferment
within. As she witnessed her husband stagger from a meager yawn, a
smile grew upon her lips.
“I
sure am!”
Caitlin
set to get herself out of bed. Her cheerful disposition disappeared,
as the same pain from the previous day made itself known as soon as
significant pressure was placed upon the affected foot.
Her
back hunched over, half to bear the cramp, half in frustration. It
appeared to be, her final defeat in this resistance.
“Andrew,”
she whimpered, “… I …”
Her
husband had already made it to her side, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Upon
the nightstand, there lay a pair of clean socks. A firm hand
retrieved them. Her left foot was dressed easily. Her right, would
not be such a simple task.
The
remaining sock was grasped firmly. With measured movements, Caitlin
retrieved her husband, allowing him to stand in the palm of her hand.
Curled fingers provided a protective canopy. Andrew was in nothing
but his boxer-briefs, for anything additional would only add to the
pile of clothes he would have to wash, not to mention, the heat.
He
was carried up to her face. It was easy to falter under her gaze.
Caitlin’s enormous eyes, even in a state of morning struggle, could
be quite intense, even without the benefit of putting billboards to
shame.
“Don’t
try anything fancy, alright?” she stated, “I’m gonna call it a
day if I think you’re on the verge of popping”
Andrew
nodded in response, “I’m a hard guy to pop Cait.”
This
comment caused a small smirk to cross Caitlin’s mouth.
“Sure,
big boy,” she said with a snicker. Her jovial manner did not last
long.
“If
this gets to be too much for you, remember, four taps,” she
instructed. Caitlin leaned forward just in the slightest, as if doing
so would give her words greater weight. She got a nod from Andrew.
With
a nervous exhale, she began bringing him to his destination. “Good
luck” was all she could say.
“Break
a leg,” Andrew responded, winking. It was the last word in before
he felt himself swept in momentum.
Her
other hand pried open the end of the sock. Caitlin had chosen a white
pair to wear. Even in shadow, the bleached material would reflect
away excess heat. In theory, that at least, was how Andrew put it to
her. In practice, she had her doubts.
Meanwhile,
Andrew had been rolled into the snug grip of her fingers. He
witnessed the fabric tunnel draw close. It almost appeared to be
sucking him in. While Andrew had traversed his share of messy
clothing, casually tossed aside by Caitlin, never had he taken the
time to truly be consumed by one. In the dim light of dawn, he could
make out every individual thread. They were stout things, far greater
in size than any that made up his clothes at least.
As
Andrew was brought in the mouth of the sock, he was hit with a smell
of detergent. It was a blissful fragrance, most likely the last that
he would experience that day. Caitlin had showered, for once, but her
own potent stench was bound to be unleashed throughout the day.
Once
he was far enough in, Caitlin let go. Gravity took Andrew, sending
him tumbling down, down to the foot of the sock. The fabric proved
soft, fortunately, and ultimately, the only harm done to him was the
rush of momentum.
Caitlin
carefully prodded the sock, feeling for Andrew’s form. Once
satisfied, she brought the sock to her injured foot.
Slowly,
did the fabric slide over her skin. Andrew could not see clearly from
his position, his view was dominated by a fluffy white tapestry. With
little light flowing in, the material appeared darker than it was.
But, if the material was dark, Caitlin’s foot was a monolithic
shadow. Andrew could make out the silhouette five digits entering in.
It
was like watching a train pass over in slow motion. Instead of
rattling tracks, however, the entire canopy began expanding and
twisting. Andrew fought to remain in the center, keeping his eyes
upon the approaching mass. From below, he felt a slight tugging. His
stomach dropped as he sunk even more into the cotton depths.
Outside,
Caitlin had pinched the area where her husband laid, pulling it down.
Her toes, and the ball of her foot was able to pass over him with
ease. She felt relief overcome her as Andrew’s form had fallen
within the soft of her foot. She released the fabric, allowing the
sock to bring him against her skin. Tiny hands grabbed at folds of
flesh, allowing Andrew to follow her foot until the journey’s end.
Finally,
her toes made it to the front of her sock. She tugged at the end,
securing both the sock, and her husband, snug against her. A curious
tingle traveled through her spine, for the sensation of Andrew’s
miniscule body held tightly to her skin, was something both
hauntingly alien, yet exquisitely familiar. Already, her foot had
been relieved of soreness, and Andrew was not even working on her
yet.
Caitlin
mounted the occupied foot upon her opposite knee. She could observe
the small outline of her husband within the fabric, but a layman
wouldn’t have been able to observe something remiss. For a minute,
she marveled at the sight.
With
a shot of awareness, she called down to her husband, “If you can’t
breathe, four taps, if you can, two.”
Two
taps, light as feathers, small as sand, and comforting as a fluffy
pillow, sunk into her flesh. With a heavy sigh, she set her foot
down.
“Alright,
I’m gonna go on a little test drive. “
Caitlin
stood up.
Andrew
felt a great shift in momentum. His experience with being carried by
Caitlin, however, prepared him for the movement in her legs. What he
wasn’t prepared for, was the immense feeling of pressure, once
Caitlin had set her foot on the ground. An overwhelming force had
pressed against his back. It was all-encompassing, leaving not an
area of his body untouched.
He
inhaled, and was immediately granted a whiff of fragrant flesh. The
residue of the soap she had used in her shower the previous night,
remained. It had mixed with her own scent, fresh and clean. Andrew
would have to savor this, for Caitlin’s foot would not remain
pleasant for long.
It
was indeed, fortunate, that he found himself in a rather advantageous
spot. Stuck directly against the arch of Caitlin’s foot, his wife’s
massive weight had been mitigated. The sock and the carpet both
provided some semblance of relief as well.
Caitlin
took a step with her affected foot. Even with her foot off the
ground, she still felt Andrew against her. It was a slow, deliberate
move. She had become aware of even the smallest of details. From the
heel of her foot settling down, to the pad and her toes coming to
rest on the ground, everything progressed at a snail’s pace.
For
Andrew, there was a release of pressure as the step proceeded. The
swing in momentum, he felt sufficiently prepared for. What ultimately
took him out was when the massive extremity was brought to the ground
once more. Even with the care Caitlin practiced, the increase in
pressure was dramatic. Andrew had to wonder if being squeezed by a
wrestler was comparable to the situation he now found himself in.
I
can do this. I have to. I’ve dealt with more pressure meeting
deadlines. This will be a walk in the park. Or the construction zone,
wherever she’s headed off to.
Fully
committed, Andrew began to dig himself into the flesh that lay above.
He was made aware of the affected tendon, as his hands, his elbows,
his knees, and even his own feet kneeded the arch of his wife’s
foot.
Caitlin
took another step, before pausing in utter resignation. What had
pained her before the entirety of yesterday, and for most of this
morning, was virtually gone. Walking would be as easy as it ever was,
with a tiny caveat of course.
She
turned back, before lifting the heel of her occupied foot. From where
she stood, she couldn’t find a trace of where Andrew was, despite
the fact that she could certainly feel him.
“You
hear me?” she asked once more, “Two taps if you can.”
Again,
she felt two taps against her skin.
“How’s
the pressure?” she further inquired, “Four taps, too much, two
taps, just right.”
Again,
there were two distinct taps.
Her
brows furrowed. She had to wonder if was possible for Andrew to see
her glare through the fabric, if he could even peel his face off of
her skin. With a foreboding tone, mixed with a touch of playfulness,
she warned, “If I crush you in there, I’m gonna kill you when we
get home.”
She
spent the rest of the morning getting on her work clothes. While she
had washed her socks, Caitlin stuck with her old pair of jeans. A
heavy jacket was thrown over her tank top. Her boots, airing out all
night, were next. There was great care taken when she slipped on her
right boot. The cushioning within, however, made her feel better
about Andrew.
There
were other concerns, however. While she was now confident that Andrew
wouldn’t meet his end by crushing, she could already feel her feet
perspiring within the heavy footware. Heat and pressure were
dangerous adversaries when mixed.