Soon, the peak of the mountain would be in range. Only a few more steps and Hàorán would reach the summit. The journey had been long and hard. His body barely supported the heavy climbing gear he had brought along. His back, heavily weighted with a backpack that contained amongst other essentials a few bottles of water, some rations and functional climbing picks. Hàorán knew that in the current world, he would have to be careful about making sure he had all he needed, in the off chance he found himself stranded. Behind him, almost touching the horizon line, Hàorán could perceive the glinting light of the pyramid. Home. Out of breath, the young man reposed for a moment.
—If it wasn’t for you Jun… I wouldn’t be here—thought the climber, barely believing his own logic. Deep down, he knew of the part he had played. His nostrils perceived a different vibe. A warm and sweet presence in the hair, one that lifts the spirit, motherly and kind. As Hàorán reached the upper ledge, his eyes fell upon the tremendous expense of the other side of the mountain and the source of said presence. Down a few hundreds of meters of downslope was the first stop of his journey. His spirits picked up, lifting his feet with ease as he trotted down the gentle slope of the peak. On his sides, amidst the short dry grass, stood large, black, unending snaking pillars of keratin, their width close to his height, their trunks flaring out like the bark of a palm tree. The more he approached his destination, the more of these piled up on top of the soil, not unlike an immobile coiling mass of worms. Soon, they blocked all paths forward. Hàorán had no choice but to climb on. One of the strands seemed to lead up a structure a couple of kilometers in height, just like a steel cable on a suspended bridge, covered in such keratin cylinders.
Caiwei.
She was immobile. There was no way for Hàorán to check, but from the stillness, he could hazard a sure guess she was resting. He had reached the top of her head, who laid against the mountain like one would on a pillow, facing upward. Hàorán made some final checks and proceeded up the mass of hair coiling around him, with climbing pick and shoes at the ready. Very soon, the hair became vertical. Hàorán would rest a bit every time he reached a new segmentation, his feet finding purchase. —Jun, you’re gonna owe me big time—thought Hàorán.
The tavern was damp. The smell of a strong alcohol permeated the air. Hàorán sat with a large wooden mug at a table, surrounded by three other friends.
“What are you saying?” asked Hàorán to one of his friends.
A large young man, with wide shoulders and a tone belying a certitude of opinion responded: “I’m saying none of us could, you least of all.” That large man was Jun. A resident troublemaker. “Or think about those that did attempt. What happened to them?”
Hàorán pondered. “Well, who knows?”
“Indeed…” Jun took a sip from his own mug. The two other friends around them nodded. “Ah, I never get tired of her drink. Who knew you could make such great vodka from milk!” Jun slammed the mug back on the table, his belligerence slightly accentuated thanks to the mix. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet. And you know I hold my word!” his eyes fixed Hàorán, who diverted his looks to the ground. “If you succeed and walk across her, from one end to the other, I’ll give you my own personal access to the upper levels.” Hàorán’s eyes lit up. He knew that having access to the upper administration would open many doors to him. Leisure and pleasure would become a common occurrence on top of his current stability. “Down in level c3, there’s a room full of climbing gear. Leave it to me to find one that fits you and I’ll escort you to the bottom of the mountain tonight. Prove your worth then, with your own actions.”
Hàorán couldn’t back down. He knew he was right in saying he could overcome her appeal. Unlike most, his only obsession with women were feet, which would be but a small part of the journey. His mind would be safe. “Do I have to? You have to believe me. There’s no way Caiwei holds sway with me. I cannot be tainted.”
“We’ll see about that. Like I said, if you can travel her entire frame and come back to us sane, I’ll put in a good word for you with the upper brass.” Jun told Hàorán, a slight grin on his face. “If you can’t … well then I doubt we’ll see each other again.”
“And if I refuse?” Hàorán asked, not as defiance, but as acknowledgement of the answer to come.
“You won’t refuse,” said Jun. His answer needed no explanation. Power has a tendency to do that. “Besides, if you survive the trek, you’ll enjoy it.” Jun picked his mug and raised it for all to see. “Everyone! Hàorán will depart tonight! Our goddess awaits him!” The tavern yelled back in unison, laughs permeating the air.
Minutes later, Hàorán and Jun made their exit, with only empty mugs lingering on their wooden table.
Jun’s words from this morning echoed through Hàorán’s mind. There was no doubt in his mind that his friend had bullied him into doing this. But deep inside his core, lapping at his heart was a longing he could not deny. Hàorán was now fully surrounded by Caiwei’s hair. A veritable jungle of keratin pillars. His fingers hurting with the strength of his climb, relief washed over him as her scalp was finally within sight. The hair he was climbing on tapered its verticality back down to a horizontal one. Caiwei’s head presented itself as a new wall with a slightly favorable angle, like the sharp cliff of a hill—I’m more than halfway up her head—he thought looking back down—It should get easier as I travel upward, and the slope’s intensity seems to diminish as I get closer to her forehead—As long as Caiwei kept still and resting, he knew he would be able to achieve his ascent. Hàorán settled himself up on the slope of her skin, having reached the end of the hair. He tested a pick on her epidermis. It barely bruised the thick layer, only superficially making an indent yet penetrated deep enough to hold—It grips well—he remarked. Hàorán grasped any indent he could and continued to pull himself. Every few meters he had no choice but to go around the large base of one of her hair. The edge of the hole they grew out of provided him with great grip.
Slowly but surely, as he neared her upward facing forehead, the path eased. The hairs became further apart and more light filtered through the thick mass until finally Hàorán came upon a clearing. He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide open and breathless at the sight: a sprawling valley in the shape of a bountiful woman, the unending body of Caiwei. The next few kilometers in front of him was Caiwei’s visage, with the differing shapes from the bulge of her closed eyes, nose, mouth and cheeks. Past those features, Hàorán noticed Caiwei’s left hand placed on top of her chest, covering one of two mounds of skin, tremendously pulled downward and away from her head, leading to two gigantic masses of breasts resting at and over her crotch and hips.
Hàorán’s eyes bulged with surprise. He had not seen Caiwei in a small while, and had not witnessed the rampant growth of her heavy mammaries. Their base defied all reason, as the fat bottom of just one of the teardrop-shaped masses now rivaled Caiwei’s very own waist in size. As for her legs and feet, Hàorán could not see, hidden as they were from his sightline by her breasts. For now, his next objective was her chin. —I can only hope there’s a path from there on—he reflected. Hàorán leaned down for a moment, calmed his senses, adjusted the straps on his backpack and proceeded. Her forehead was quick enough to traverse. Smooth, without any obstacles. Her short flat nose, ahead, protruded like a small hill. Hàorán elected to pass by the left of it. Her skin was hard enough to his feet, his weight unable to cause any indent, giving Hàorán good traction and speed. As he passed her eye by the side, the adventurer observed the tall eyelashes, reaching for the sky. There was a slight movement under the eyelid. Was she dreaming? Hàorán couldn’t tell exactly. —I have to keep moving—he pondered—if she wakes up …—Hàorán advanced past the inner part of the eye, his right hand raised against the warm wall of her nose.
As his hand felt her skin, thoughts invaded the back of his mind. Images of himself at the mercy of Caiwei, hanging off one eyelash, trying to hold as best as he could, untold emptiness under him. His sex reacted slightly at the very realization that she was now his world. A single movement by her could be disastrous. Hàorán shook his head, washing the thoughts away. Halfway across the side of her nose, tremendous pressure was felt. Caiwei’s breathing moved so much air the ambient pressure lowered and rose in a slow rhythm. It only took a few more minutes to reach her left nostril. A large, circular mound many times the height of the home pyramid. Hàorán passed by the opening. Every few seconds, a mass of warm air pushed by him.
Eventually came a rising mound of skin, the color of the skin changing to a deeper shade dark red and beige. Caiwei’s mouth. —Going around will take too long—he thought while surveying his surroundings. Instead, he elected to climb up the soft skin. Reaching the top of the upper lip proved without difficulties. —Thankfully, her mouth’s closed—He proceeded down to the point where her upper and lower lip met. A deep crevice, barely concealing tremendous energy under it. The young man traversing it thought better as to imagine what laid under. A particular wrinkle created a sort of chute Hàorán thought he could use. He slid down the upper lip, her warm, humid body pressing against his back, until his feet met the area where both lips touched. After a large step, Hàorán was finally climbing back her larger, lower lip.
As he reached half way up, the ground trembled. The lips parted and tremendous wind aggravated the risk to his grip. A black pit of unknown depth appeared. Hàorán increased his hold with his pick, his heart shooting up his throat as he grasped at a fold of skin. Eventually, the large gust of wind helped his ascent, for a moment, until it suddenly reversed direction. A few seconds later, again the mass of air came behind him, pushing him upward. Caiwei had started breathing through her mouth. After a few rounds of breaths, the scared climber had found his rhythm. He pulled up in tandem with the air, before securing himself for the push back the other direction. Eventually, the slope of her lips diminished as he came upon the top of the bottom lip.
Just as he did so, the mouth closed behind him, with a powerful bassy sound indicating Caiwei had just cleared her throat. The climber moved away from her lip, sliding down a small alcove provided by the depression under it. —The chin, finally—he thought, frantically trying to shake away the idea of the previous danger and what might have happened had his grip failed—The real challenge starts now—
Hàorán approached the edge of her chin: Caiwei’s skin sloped down, until it became an abrupt descent. Her head was somewhat inclined back, Hàorán noticed. He would have to use one of his hooks to secure a line and rappel down. With a swift motion, he planted one in the epidermis. He pulled it strongly, testing its strength before proceeding downward. With all his might, he dared not look. A couple of hundreds of meters separated him from Caiwei’s throat. Every few tens of meters, Hàorán secured a new line, before continuing down. Subtly at first, then more abruptly, the ground leveled as he reached the curve of her throat. The young man looked back up at the jaw he had descended from and the line that hung from it. —It’ll probably fall on its own when she wakes—thought Hàorán.
The trek over her throat was without a problem, other than a slight rhythmic raising and lowering of the surface as Caiwei breathed and its hilly nature. Soon after, approaching her neckline, Hàorán reached a space between two large hills on each side, her collarbone, with her jaw now far behind him, and the vast expense of her commensurate chest up front, like a vast plain flanked by two globular mountains. At this point, Hàorán’s body seized up in ecstasy. All his eyes could see, behind, to his sides and far to the front, was Caiwei. Her body was everywhere with only the blue sky as indication there was something else existing. Kneeling down, he passed his hand on her hard epidermis, feeling the rough edges of the small skin cells superimposed against each other. Never would Hàorán have thought the body would look so different at this scale. He noticed how warm the ground was. It pulled his body, his limbs, to lay on her. Never had he found himself so enthralled. Just as he leaned down, his lips centimeters away from kissing the floor, Hàorán stopped himself, chasing the fog that had taken hold. —What am I doing? Why was I …—the young man thought. He coughed slightly, as if rubbing shame off in front of an audience, rubbed his shoulders and continued on his merry way, reminding himself again and again that time was of the essence.
Half an hour had passed since the collarbone. Caiwei’s torso felt like an endless runway, one on which no amount of walking would allow to reach the end. Hàorán was now faced with a choice: he could either head left or right and climb a breast, or continue in the pass between them. He sat down for a moment, mulling over his options. —If I climb a breast, I’ll have several kilometers of upward slope, which will get exponentially worse as I get closer to the end of the tear shape—Hàorán looked towards the end of his road, between her breasts. There, a small, tiny hole of light could be seen under the middle of the giant crack formed by the masses pressing against each other. A pathway. —There. I reach that, I reach her pubis, and from there I can keep going on a leg past her tits—Hàorán agreed with himself and walked on.
As the minutes passed and he advanced, he found himself surrounded by the rising mounds of Caiwei’s breasts, a few tens of meters on each side. The flat piles of skin looked pulled and stretched to an inordinate amount. —It’s no wonder—thought Hàorán—considering the mountains at the end—The more Hàorán approached the breasts, the more his heart sank, a deep foreboding warning of danger. The quiet air was punctuated by Caiwei’s heartbeat, thrumming through some visible veins that colored the surface of her breasts, no doubt feeding the entire apparatus of milk production.
Eventually, Hàorán was almost at the area between her breasts, the tunnel at the bottom of her crack quite apparent, when a loud groan echoed. The young man stopped, his eyes wide in surprise. —Caiwei? —Suddenly, the whole body under him moved.
Without thinking, Hàorán rushed forward. Her navel was in sight. The tremors increased and the ground sloped to his right. “No, no no no!” yelled Hàorán. He now had to lean heavily to his left, unable to keep his balance … until the unthinkable happened: the giant masses up front started sliding, then rolling to the right. —She’s … she’s turning in her sleep! —Hàorán panicked. Unable to reach for the climbing tools in time, he felt the ground giving away, the previous floor having become a wall too steep to hang unto. There was no preventing tumbling down. At the same time, the sky above was covered as her mighty breasts displaced, smashing against each other as they fell. Hàorán found himself landing on a new expanse of skin: Caiwei’s right breast. Above him, another wall of flesh closed in. In a tremendous, cataclysmic shake, the two surfaces collided, propelling him upward and away for a few tens of meters. Eventually, all movement died down. Hàorán got back up, struggling to catch his breath from being knocked out. It appeared to him as if he was in a large gulley, no doubt a wrinkle on the stretched-out part of her breasts, covered by more skin from the other breast, creating a deep tunnel. Only bits of lights filtered through.
Hàorán still had all his gear. He palmed at her warm skin. —Still alive… I’m good. Come on. Halfway there—the man repeated to himself as he walked forward, his countenance barely restored. He couldn’t believe his situation. A simple movement by Caiwei, something so innocuous as simply shifting slightly, had almost terminated his life. The temperature rose greatly. More than ever, Caiwei’s rhythmic heartbeat was now omnipresent, surrounded by her as he was.
Heat had become unbearable and sweat pearled over his brow. Hàorán hoped she would not move again. As he approached the bulging end of her breasts, their dropping shape transforming into a sphere, Hàorán found the gulley of skin he had walked in flattening itself. Soon, there would be no path: both breasts were completely squashed against each other, a flat expanse of skin on top of another. Hàorán pondered his next move. To his left, Caiwei’s body presented an opportunity: a growing mass of pubic hair had slowly appeared, sometimes touching the large masses. —So far down already? She must have gotten bigger if I’m only seeing the top of her breasts while seeing her pubes …—thought Hàorán. He eyed his climbing tools. —I can probably make it. If I can reach a gap, pass through her folds… I should reach her right thigh no problem. And from there, it’s just a straight, smooth few kilometers until I reach her feet …—Hàorán became excited at the thought.—and then I win the bet. Access to the third floor and all of its perks—He moved with resolve.
He approached the edge of the breast. A handful of pubic hair brushed against its side. Hàorán carefully climbed down the slope and happened upon the keratin bridge. —Don’t look down—he repeated to himself as he traversed over the chasm that was the void between her breast and the top of her sex. As Hàorán traversed, her left breast still acted as a roof, like a slanted building, high atop. To his right and in front, expulsing from her midsection turned sideways, a giant mound of folded skin. Caiwei’s bountiful vagina. Hàorán knew he would have to venture through it. He eventually reached the edge of her resting crotch. Equipped with his climbing gear, the adventurer now edged towards her sex, slowly crawling sideways on a precipitous edge. A fold protruded nearby, atop it, a hidden mass. Hàorán was sweating. His muscles tense with exertion. He had to rest. With great difficulty, he pulled himself with his arms, reaching the fold. The crevice of skin deepened downward in a small slant. Hàorán let himself slide down, letting his body reach a stopping point. Above him, still the tremendous mass. Hàorán understood at last its nature: the titan’s pleasure mound.
A deep wind started blowing outside the alcove. Hàorán laid on his back, taking his breath. —Maybe a quick half-hour rest … or less—his mind raced. He could feel Caiwei’s rhythm of life as blood coursed under and around him. His hands passed on her bumpy skin. For a moment, his eyes closed.
Hàorán let his thoughts drift. An image of Caiwei, walking across a broken plain. She moved slowly and with grace. Hàorán had an image of her foot landing on the soil, its intricate size dominating for several kilometers. His heart fluttered at the vision. The inner sight panned upward, towards her sex. Hàorán’s breath grew short. He saw it clearly. A fat mound of skin folds, covered by a thick forest of pitch-black pubic hair, accentuating its size. In it, a deep cavern of pleasure. Then a vision, atop the mound, an erect clitoris, fully engorged. By its side, deep in a crevice of the clitoral hood, Hàorán saw himself, stuck between the folded skin, unable to escape, until he disappeared, covered by closing folds as Caiwei’s movement created a small change in the structure of her flesh.
He awoke startled. After moments, the vision faded. He looked down between his legs, an apparent excitement from his genitals. —How much time passed?—he asked himself. He looked around. Caiwei was still resting, in the same position. Hàorán got up in a hurry. There was no telling how long she would still be like this. —Alright so, through the vagina’s folds, then her thighs—Hàorán checked his belongings, and walked away from the clitoris, and towards a much larger piece of her sex. With Caiwei on her sides, the protruding labia of her vagina created alternating striations of flesh. Hàorán stepped out of the skin alcove under her clitoris, towards the piled mounds. Sharp wind lapped at him, channeled through the tunnel made by the triangular positioning of her waist and the two piled breasts. He proceeded upward on the first fold, his foot finding secure notches. Just one of Caiwei’s skin creases seemed a couple of tens of meters high. In a moment, Hàorán reached the top, dragging himself over the hump, and into a tunnel of skin between the two superimposed folds of labia.
His eyes adjusted to the new reddish darkness. More than ever, Caiwei’s heartbeat was omnipresent, not unlike the distant sound of an open-air music show. Between the two slices of labia, slight minimal variation in the angles of the skin created differing alcoves. Hàorán advanced, from one to the next. Soon, he lost count, having had to at times crawl between shapes of labia, his body pressed slightly as blood passing by inflated her skin for a second. His mind pondered—Which way am I going? —The air was thick and sweat-inducing. Hàorán’s clothes started to stick to him. More alcoves and tunnels. His heart beat faster at a dangerous thought. Lust, for his goddess, and fear of being lost, mixing together to form a rising panic. Hàorán crawled through another fold of skin, hoping for salvation and an exit. His heart sank as he saw a new damp cavern, one that opened up on an ever-larger opening. He must have been close to her canal. Desperate, Hàorán waited, taking in a full breath, listening. A small fragrance of nature hit his nostril. —A path—Hàorán followed the small draft, passing under a nearby unnoticeable fold. Once more, he crawled through.
Caiwei’s skin above and under him became a lighter shade of transparent red—Light! —Hàorán thought, ecstatic. He had found his way in the end. The lips of skin parted and allowed him to stand, the bright light of the sky blasting his eyes. Towards the horizon was Caiwei’s right leg, a massive unending thigh leading to a plump calve, from which the setting sun gleamed. Her thick foot, at the very end, stood motionless, sideways. The way would be under open sky, as Caiwei’s left leg was pulled back relative to the right one.
Hàorán moved down to the thigh with ease. He would do it. His previous dreamlike vision of himself stuck between her folds would soon be distant. Moments before proceeding on the warm expanse, he looked back behind him, at the protruding sex and its two gargantuan mammarial neighbors. The most dangerous part of the trip was behind him, he was only certain of it. He fought his inner demon and survived Caiwei’s topography. Hàorán made a small adjustment to his backpack, securing it anew and moving on.
—Just focus on one step at a time—Hàorán reflected. Long has it been since he had done such exercise. His strength found wanting at last, deep pangs beneath his thighs. The kilometers he had traveled since Caiwei’s midsection had been a grueling addition to the day. He was finally getting close to the mound that was the boney outside of her knee. Hàorán took a sip from his water bottle. —In the end, most of her body would be akin to a desert—Hàorán observed. Most in the city knew Caiwei as their bountiful mother. Her cyclical expressions of milk really gave off the image that if anything, being on her would provide a constant source of nourishment. But so far, Hàorán had witnessed a very different reality. Her enormous thigh was but a plain of skin, with the odd feeble transparent hair here and there, emanating a constant heat that added with the blaring sunlight, nary a shade in sight.
At last, with these thoughts in head, Hàorán reached the top of the side of her knee. He looked back at Caiwei, still resting. Her thighs lead to a sight they had been used to now, the viewpoint similar to what most saw of Caiwei as she walked overhead, with her thick genitals in sight, cradled by giant breasts sporting an overgrown areola and almost constantly leaking nipples, obscuring any other part of her torso. It was as if her own body was objectifying her, reducing the possible sight to some basic carnal views of sex and pleasure. Hàorán wiped his eyes, took a deep breath and proceeded down the knee, and onto her bulging calves. Like the rest of her legs, her calves were slightly wider than the average, sporting an important layer of fat and muscle, which would have accentuated her thickness no matter her height.
Hàorán quickly noticed how much softer the ground felt. Her skin smooth as ever, he was approaching his final destination: her massive foot. His eyes on the prize, at his journey coming to an end, the young man advanced with gusto. The way over her calve had been a slow ascent as her leg provided a small upward grading, but now that he was halfway past its peak, the ease of descent was upon him. Her thick foot was a sight to behold. Hàorán had always had a preference for this part of her. After all, it was the body part all of them had most often had access to. His favorite times had been the moment of the initial climb of her toe prints as they went on a feeding expedition to her nipples. Right now, though, seeing her foot from this far, in its entirety and from a different angle than usual, awoke a deep longing within him. More than ever something called to the beast within his brain.
Her thick, well-maintained toes stretched, before curling slightly. Hàorán stopped moving, taken at the sight. As her foot moved such, innumerable folds appeared near the moving joints. Hàorán knew each of those would have been akin to a small canyon of a few tens of meters to him. Yet something appeared in the back of his mind. A deep warning. He looked at the toes moving once more, and then jarred himself alert—she’s waking up!—he realized. Suddenly, the ground shook. Her foot was turning on its heel, rotating to point upward. Without thinking and on pure instinct, Hàorán ran opposite the direction the ground under him moved to as her leg circled to follow the moving foot. His speed was too little and the adventurer had no choice but to rapidly grasp at his climbing pic, planting it superficially on Caiwei’s epidermis. Everything was a blur: her breasts fell on her side, slamming the ground with tremendous pressure and strength, a moving hand grasped the nearby soil and a terrible moan of restfulness passed through the atmosphere, displacing clouds. Caiwei sat up, her knuckles rubbing her eyes. The sound of falling debris echoed through the valley not unlike the shockwave of an avalanche.
The knee Hàorán had just passed, a quick hour earlier, rose to the sky, angling the skin he was attached to almost to complete verticality. His climbing pick failed. Hàorán had his heart up to his mouth as he felt gravity take hold, leaving him to fall. His body tumbled on her skin, the top of her foot rapidly approaching even as it slammed down on the ground while her entire body stood up. Hàorán’s fall started to slow as the angle of the top of her foot curved from the verticality of her ankles to the soft slant that led to her toes. Hàorán lost sight of the foot as he fell in one of its wrinkles, finally hitting soft ground.
The man sputtered, unable to take his breath back for a moment. He had lost his backpack, one of his shoes had ejected itself and half his shirt had ripped. Half-naked, Hàorán realized he was now lost on her foot. With barely a moment to think, the entire scenery trembled, his body pushed down fully by gravity as Caiwei raised her foot in a step, only to have to grasp at her epidermis as the foot landed anew, slamming him on her skin as the foot stepped on a new location, interrupting its movement. —This is trouble… —Caiwei moved again. Hàorán was thrown every which way. Tremors and constant pushes. Sometimes, a brief sight of her bent toes as Caiwei moved the other foot, advancing her pelvis, only for his ground to again give him a gravitic push as she stepped with the foot he stood on. Over and over again. Every hit against her skin broke him more, every movement pushed him face first into her skin. There was no end in sight to his plight: Caiwei needed a walk to stretch her muscles fully after such a long nap. His body hitting her skin reminded him of his insignificance to her. Hàorán saw his resistance leave him as a sort of deep excitement took over his carnal need. He found his remaining clothes constraining to his survival as they hampered him while her body pushed him around.
Soon, the constant movements had ripped the last few pieces of fabric he had, leaving him to survive with but the most natural of wear. His mind was shot with excitement, fear and lust as he was repeatedly thrown every which way inside a small fold on her foot. Even as a speck of dust between folds of skin on her foot, the warmth and strength of the titan’s mass encompassed him. His sex found pleasure and his mind went blank, perhaps forever.
Jun had won his bet.