Note: This story is set in a heavily fictionalized version of Rome, one which bears little or no resemblance to the actual location except in thought or wishful thinking. Please bear this in mind while reading the following.
WHEN IN ROME
By NFalc
Jimmy Carmichael paused at the shop, reading the intricately painted wooden signs above and next to the door. The largest sign showed this to be "Madame Tirenni's Fortune Telling Shop".
"Tarot, tea leaves, palm readings, potions, cures and other astral services," Jim read aloud with a chuckle. He didn't believe a fortune telling would do much for him other than drain his wallet. Still, he had an hour to spare before his next tour, and he figured that if he didn't try a fortune telling now, he might as well never. After all, what better place than here? There were probably some mystical ancient energies about, which might make his fortune more accurate.
He was still smirking as he walked into the store. He was immediately assaulted by the pungent odors of what he figured to be herbs, mixed in with some other rather unpleasant smells he didn't want to identify. It was a blisteringly hot July day, and the store didn't seem well ventilated. Jimmy was feeling woozy already. "Business?" came a heavily accented voice from behind him.
He spun and saw a small woman. He'd always imagined fortune tellers to be stout, wrinkled old ladies. This one, however, was slim and couldn't be older than 25. She was very pretty in a dark, exotic way, and stood just over five feet tall.
"Si," Jim answered in his decent Italian. "I'm here for a reading." He felt foolish just saying it.
"Follow me," the gypsy now replied in Italian, taking his hand and leading him into a back room.
The room was dimly lit, blue smoke pouring from the incense on a pedestal in the corner. Jimmy felt his chair creak beneath him as he sat down.
"Give me your hand," the woman said, speaking rapidly with a clipped, brusque tone. "Unless you want Tarot?"
"Naw, a palm reading is fine," Jimmy affirmed.
The woman clutched his hand tightly, lifting it and staring at it intently. "You have great changes in your future," she began. Her words came slowly now, almost rhythmically. "You will experience many new things soon, things few people have done before. An adventure lies in wait..."
Jim quickly ceased paying attention, in order to internally grumble about the total ripoff this was. Twenty bucks just to hear some stupid Gypsy chick drone on about "great changes"? She wasn't even saying anything specific!
"So, your lifeline is long..." The woman drifted off, meeting Jim's gaze. "You don't believe any of this, do you?"
"Maybe you can read me better than I thought," Jimmy sniggered.
The fortune teller's eyes closed, her expression dreamy. "Maybe instead we should go up to my room. I could slip into something sexy, and you could make love to me."
Jimmy was shocked. He'd heard that Europeans were much less squeamish about sexual matters than Americans, but he'd never expected such an explicit request. He looked her over, and thought she'd probably make a great lay. Too bad she wasn't his type.
Jim was still too thrown off by the Gypsy's offer to let her down easy. Instead he quickly blurted, "Sorry, I'm just not into short women."
If the Gypsy was angered by this, she did not show it. Instead, her voice resumed its rapid speech patterns, and her eyes lost their dreamy look. "Okay then, but have tea before you go. It will give you luck."
She bustled back into the main room, rummaging through some drawers and pulling out handfuls of strange herbs. These she threw into a steaming hot teapot, giving them barely a minute to soak before grabbing a chipped teacup and pouring out the steaming brew. She thrust the concoction into Jim's hands, then put her hand to her mouth in a drinking motion.
"Fine," Jim muttered as he lifted the cup to his mouth. "So long as you're not trying to slip me an aphrodisiac." The dark liquid had a funny taste, and it tingled his throat as it went down.
The Gypsy smiled and wished him a nice day, then continued studying the book on her counter. Jim opened the door and walked back out into bright Italian sunshine. As the door closed, the Gypsy smiled.
Night fell, and the streets cooled. At around 11:30 PM Jimmy woke and freshened up, changing into his dancing clothes. He was going to do what any 22 year old American bachelor in Europe would do. He was going clubbing.
Jim ignored all the bright, flashy obvious clubs, preferring to duck into the back alleys. He liked the underground scene, chose the small hole-in-the-wall clubs that didn't play the trashy Europop he heard on the radio all day. He came upon a likely candidate, figuring that even with its large, imposing double doors the place itself would be pretty intimate. He tugged open one of the massive gates and let himself in.
At first, Jimmy thought he was in the wrong kind of place. He took one look at the place and assumed it was some sort of specialty club, probably members only. He started to back away, but the woman standing by the door gently shoved him back in.
The reason she as able to do that was because she was at least six feet, six inches tall.
Everyone else in the club had a couple of inches on Jimmy as well. He was a strapping six feet, but for the first time in his life he actually felt short. This had to be some kind of group event, maybe for a tall women's organization. He noticed that there weren't too many men in the crowd.
As he maneuvered through crowds of sweaty, scantily clothed, dancing women of Amazon stature, he felt more alive than he ever had before. Something about being smaller than everyone else sent an erotic thrill through him, although it was quite intimidating as well. It was probably the intimidation factor that sent him rushing off the dance floor to the oversized bar. As his eyes adjusted to the place, he realized that everything was built to the tall women's scale. Maybe the club was exclusively for them.
He quickly ordered a shot of vodka from the pretty and equally gigantic barmaid. He had a feeling that he would need alcohol to get his nerve up tonight. Then he turned and watched the giants as they swiveled their hips, grinding to the beat.
He felt a smooth arm slide around his shoulders. It would have been slender, but for it being proportionally much larger than what he was used to. He turned to see a slender, but very lovely face framed by straight, shiny hair, dyed blond but still brown at the roots. She had large, dark, almond-shaped eyes.
"Hey there, little guy," she said in a voice that was surprisingly musical for such a woman of her proportions. "What're you doing alone on a night like this?"
"Well, I, um..." He'd never been at a loss for words around women before, but they'd never been taller than him before either. "I don't know anyone here." He finished rather lamely.
"I'm Isabelle," she said with a sparkly smile. "And now you know someone."
"Jimmy," he replied, extending a hand. She enveloped it in her own, which he noticed was considerably larger.
His drink arrived, and he downed it in a gulp. The familiar alcohol burn in the back of his throat relaxed him. But he was still alarmed when Isabelle took his hand and began to drag him onto the dance floor.
He tried to pull away, pleading "Maybe I just should head back," but she firmly restrained him.
"First, dance with me," she commanded.
Jim had little choice but to do as she said. Fortunately, Jimmy wasn't a bad dancer, and as he warmed up and got into the music he gained a little confidence. He moved closer to Isabelle, the two of them moving to the music, and responding to each others' motions. At one point, the larger woman got a little overzealous, a thrusting motion she made almost knocking poor Jim over, but on the whole it was very pleasant.
Then the lights dimmed, and a softer tune began to play. Time for the slow dance. Jim reached for Isabelle's shoulders, but they were farther than he'd expected. Surely they hadn't been this high before? He wound up barely touching with his fingertips, even though his arms were completely outstretched.
He moved his hands awkwardly down to her hips. Then there was the comforting touch of large hands on his shoulders. He began to sway with the music. As the dance continued, Jim felt himself being pulled gently but firmly into the woman before him. As she drew him into a tight embrace, he realized with a thrill that his eyes were level with the tops of her cleavage. She wrapped her arms around him, and his head was buried in her bosom, leaving him surrounded in soft, warm darkness, fragrant with her perfume.
The music shifted back to a dance tune, and Isabelle relinquished Jim. He had to look up quite far to stare amorously into those huge dark eyes. Had he estimated her to be six foot five, with two inch heels? She looked more like seven feet even with heels of four inches.
He shook his head. That last guess was insane. He had to be drunk, or maybe the barmaid had slipped something in his drink. Sure she was tall, but she couldn't be THAT tall.
Deciding that he needed to clear his head, he stumbled back to the bar, ordering a cup of coffee. Isabelle followed him back, still looking unbelievably huge.
"Having fun?" she chirped, after ordering peach schnapps from the barmaid.
"Yeah," he replied breathlessly. "Just needed to get some air."
She giggled, then blew into his face, her breath sweet if tinged with liquor. "There, I loaned you some."
"Who needs drinks?" he mumbled more to himself than anyone else. "Just being around you is intoxicating."
"Then you should get a little more drunk," she cooed, leaning in and bending over to plant a slightly messy kiss, spreading lipstick half an inch around his mouth.
Too flabbergasted to actually reply, Jim could only reach for an oversized bar napkin to wipe it off. The barmaid delivered a steaming jug of black coffee which he promptly threw down his throat. A few seconds later he looked wildly about the club. Far from the coffee helping, everything looked even bigger than before. Even the distance from the bar stool to the floor looked impossibly high. This removed any doubt: he'd definitely been drugged.
Isabelle draped a mammoth arm around his shoulders, effectively covering them with her smooth, soft skin. He blinked rapidly, trying to will himself out of the drugs' spell. Then he turned to Isabelle, to find her as big if not larger than before. "Are you nervous about something?" she asked concernedly.
"I'm fine," he replied, swallowing. "It's just that everything here is so big."
"Don't worry, I'm here for you." Her voice was soothing.
"You've been so nice to me tonight. I don't even know why..."
"What can I say? I like short guys." She said before giving him a peck on the cheek.
He laughed at that. He had never thought of six feet as being 'short' but tonight it was beginning to make sense.
"You want to get out of here?" Jim asked, his voice weak but his confidence stronger.
"I'd love to," she said, and with two hands she hoisted him off the bar stool and lowered him dizzyingly to the ground.
He was about to protest this treatment when he looked up, and directly into her flat, bare stomach. He stumbled backwards, at a complete loss of words. There had to be some reason for this. It just didn't make sense...
"You're even smaller than I remember!" Isabelle exclaimed from above. "Got to get you home before you shrink into nothing." She had said it in jest, but the words sent a chill down Jim's spine.
She led him onto the street, the night seeming darker and far more cavernous before. This had to be some kind of nightmare, Jim reasoned. Probably induced by drugs and alcohol. Heck, he was probably lying semi-comatose on a couch somewhere, hallucinating all of this. He looked at Isabelle, and hoped that at least he wasn't hallucinating her.
There seemed to be something lurking around every corner in the twisting city streets. He clung to her huge hand, feeling like a little kid again. With a start, he realized that he probably looked like a child compared to his date. Finally they came to a small apartment. They went into the elevator, which was so narrow that they were practically on top of each other. Jim noticed that he was barely tall enough to reach the elevator buttons. Then he turned to see Isabelle's massive, perfectly formed hands reaching up into her black miniskirt. They rolled down her transparent pantyhose, revealing bare thighs and a tantalizing space between, positioned right before him.
"Little man," she called down. "We're going to have fun tonight."
Her room was fairly simple, a conglomeration of white and wood that leaned towards the modern. It was scaled entirely to her proportions.
As Isabelle brushed past Jimmy, he found his eye level to be even with her nicely curved and firm buttocks. He kept waiting for the drugs to wear off, the strange dream to end, but it didn't. He was going to have to see this through, but at the moment he didn't mind where this hallucination was going.
Isabelle sat down on the clean, pure white bed, and motioned for Jim to do the same. He had to climb up to get atop the mattress, no easy task considering it was as high as the top of his stomach. Isabelle turned towards him, spreading her legs so there was a massive thigh on either side of him. Then she began to shed her clothing.
Whatever the drug had done, it hadn't hurt Jim's sex drive. By the time Isabelle had finished undressing, he felt about ready to burst out of his pants.
She took his shirt between two sets of dazzlingly white teeth and ripped the garment clean off him. Sliding one massive hand underneath him, she teased his trousers off with the other. A pink tongue the length of his forearm emerged from her red lips and found its way to his crotch.
She licked him, her tongue sweeping over the length of his whole body. He was filled with burning lust, primed to explode at any moment. She gently slid him towards her, and he eagerly mounted her.
Jim began to make love to the now enormous woman. When his member had become exhausted, far sooner than it was accustomed to, he used a fist. When that became too small, he used two. Finally, he used his entire head to satisfy her, losing himself completely in her warm, wet pussy. All the while, he could have sworn she was growing larger.
Jim didn't want to open his eyes. He had a number of reasons for this. He didn't want to wake up to a hangover, or to find Isabelle gone, or to find himself in some strange basement in Rome. He didn't want to wake up.
But he figured he had to. So he opened his eyes, pleasantly surprised to still see Isabelle's pillow beneath him. But something was off. The pillow should've ended right in front of him. Instead, it seemed to stretch out in front of him, as far as the eye could see.
He sat up, and immediately wished he hadn't. He was sitting on a plain of white, stretching out for miles in every direction. The drugs must be really getting to me now, he thought. But he didn't feel high, or different in any way. And when he looked out at the white around him, he gradually began to notice shadows, and depth. The distinct hills and valleys beneath. It took him a relatively short amount of time to realize that he was standing on the pillow, in the middle of Isabelle's bed. Those hills and valleys were merely the tangled bedspread.
Then he looked to his left and nearly fainted. Looming before him, the size of a cityscape, was the naked backside of a woman. He could see every detail, every curve, every pore in her radiant tan skin. He dimly remembered the lines of those hips, the thighs, arms and back from a night that seemed long past.
Jim was disrupted by a sudden earthquake. He managed to look up, and see the landscape of a woman moving closer, tilting. She was rolling over.
As her body moved, the bed shifted, and Jim was thrown from the pillow. The slight depression made by her weight on the mattress was a steep slope for the man, and he was forced to claw at the sheets to keep from sliding beneath her massive bulk.
The woman's body ceased moving. The man was now staring at the woman's tremendous face, the length of a skyscraper. Her lips were parted slightly, revealing an abyss hundreds of feet wide, out of which roared warm tornado winds. They swept over the man, so strong that it was difficult for him to breathe.
Then the roar stopped, as quickly as it began. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, "Isabelle! Isabelle, it's me Jim!" The gigantic eyes were closed, and closed they remained. Not even at the top of his voice could his cries reach those delicate ears, with their vast tunnels the size of mine shafts. Even as she was directly in front of him, epic in scale, she was totally unreachable.
Yet he continued to scream even as the woman's lips pursed again, the roar of blowing wind replaced by the howl of vacuum. As she breathed in, Jim was uprooted, swept towards those massive lips which had kissed his cheek just hours before.
He somehow fell out of the air current before being drawn into her mouth, and instead fell onto her lower lip. The slick red surface of her lipstick left his hands no purchase, and he fell onto the vast plane of skin between her lips and chin.
She had stopped moving for the moment, and he caught his breath. Things were becoming clear to him now. He hadn't been drugged. It had never been her that was huge but him that had shrunk. And he was still shrinking. The pores in her face began to become obvious, gradually growing to the size of baseballs. Instinctively, he jammed each of his hands into a pore, thinking to use them as handholds.
Then the chin, and the rest of the woman's body with it, began to move. He watched as he rose away from the clean white of the bed, turning outwards towards infinity.
The lips parted once more, making way for a vast outrush of noise and wind. One single word, the last he'd ever hear.
As Jim fell, he wondered what she'd said. The noise seemed to echo, and he could now understand it. "Gone." She didn't know the truth of it.
He slammed into a spongy surface, which absorbed just enough shock to prevent him from dying outright. Every nerve screamed with pain. His body was more than broken, it was shattered. He struggled to crane his neck, the only part of him which seemed capable of motion. He saw that he was lying on a huge slope stretching into the distance. Above him was some kind of tremendous ring, looking like it was made from rubber or leather.
Then the heavens were filled with flesh, moving over him, curving and wrinkling. Cold logic cleared his brain. He had landed in the sole of the woman's sandal.
As the pink sky descended, the warmth becoming palpable, Jim was oddly grateful. He doubted it would've been a good life, constantly shrinking towards the point of near-nothingness. Better to end it quickly, killed by a girl who had, if not loved him, at least showed him respect and compassion. As the massive foot came down, he wondered if she would even feel his death.
Isabella walked out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. She was not aware of the microscopic red stain growing on the sole of her shoe. But another woman was.
In a back alley in Rome, surrounded by her tea leaves and potions, her crystal ball and Tarot cards, the gypsy laughed.
Giantess World
