Greg awoke to the sound of an earth-shattering muffled electronic "wheet!"
He groaned. His head was pounding. And he was a bit sore, and....
"Wheet!"
...what in God's name was that sound?
And why was it so hot here?
Suddenly, he heard an enormous clatter, and then a voice, husky and indistinguishable in its magnitude, answered.
Oh, right: he was shrunk.
And that was his hostess' wake-up call.
Greg suddenly remembered everything. He had been washed out of this woman's vagina around seven the night before. She'd taken a bath, and then walked naked back into the room, where she proceeded to sit cross-legged on the floor while watching TV.
He had watched her intently. It isn't often that a mountain-sized woman sits down half a mile from you completely in the nude and simply presents herself to you.
She was a beauty, that's for sure. She was toned, and tanned, and her brown hair was trimmed to hang neatly at her shoulders. Her breastssmall mountains all by themselveswere not huge, but they were firm and showed no signs of sagging.
She wasn't a kid, but she wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination. And she radiated a calmness that was catching.
He wanted to get to know her better.
Of course, right now, she was approximately eighteen hundred times as tall as he wasso large that he may as well be a bedbug or a paramecium. Besides, he had a date in Las Vegas.
After a couple hours, the woman unpacked, and Greg had scurried to the baseboard. She wasn't fastidious by any stretch of the imagination; she'd simply chucked clothes here and there as was required to empty the suitcase, and then, much to Greg's dismay, she'd pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
But then, much to Greg's delight, she'd ordered room service.
It was so hard, watching as she sat at the desk in the room, eating a hamburger the size of a stadium, munching french fries the size of trains. And it was so damn far away! He despaired that he'd ever get so much as a morsel.
But then, she had dropped the french fry, and she hadn't even noticed.
She had been watching TV, and she was laughing at whatever was on. The fry slipped from her grip and landed a few inches from her left foot.
Greg swallowed hard. Did he dare?
His stomach told him he'd better.
He had already crossed through the jungle of carpet to one of the table legs; it was only a quarter-mile to the fallen fry. He had to chance it.
Besides, it wasn't like she was paying attention.
He reached the fry and immediately grabbed handfuls of potatoit was oddly spongy at this scale, but no matter. He ate ravenously, knowing that it was the first food he'd had since Anna had fed him the night before.
If the foot next to him concerned him, he didn't seem to show it.
But suddenly, the woman's foot shifted. To her, it probably wasn't even noticeable. But to Greg, it was all-encompassing. He was thrown into the air, and found himself flying up, and then over the enormous foot. He landed on the woman's second toe, right on the cuticle.
He was too stunned to move. He tried to right himself, but the woman would flex her toes every few seconds, causing him to fall again. He grabbed her cuticle, and held on for dear life.
Then, some time later, there was a different motion. The woman pushed her chair back and she was moving.
Each step was like an insane roller coaster. He had been in a giantess' nether regions, and in her mouth, and in her hand. Nothing prepared him for the motion of her feet. He felt like he'd left his stomach back with the french fry, and it was only providence or God's sick sense of humor that kept him from vomiting.
A few moments later (how could it be anything else? They were in a hotel room after all) the woman sat on the bed, and swung her feetand Gregup on to the covers. Greg sighed as they came to rest. Well, he'd just wait for a few seconds, and....
Suddenly, he saw it. It appeared in a flash, one nail over from him.
She was painting her nails.
"Noooo!" he cried as the red lacquer enamel covered him. He flipped over, brushing at his face to keep it clear of nail polish. He succeeded, but at a cost. As the polish quickly hardened, he found himself unable to reach the red button that he desperately wanted to push.
He was stuck to this beauty's left foot. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Nothing had changed by the following morning. Greg was able to shift about just enough to keep his limbs from locking up, but he wasn't going anywhere. He figured he'd either have to wait for normal wear and tear to cause the polish to chip, or wait to growhe hoped that wouldn't hurtor wait for the woman to use nail polish remover.
At least he'd gotten some sleep. And as the woman rose and kicked off her panties, and he stared up her impossibly long legs at her womanhood, he reflected that he'd have a nice view.
* * *
Heather yawned and stretched, peeled off her sweats and looked for something to wear during the day. She had the rehearsal dinner tonight, and she'd brought a nice dress to wear, but she didn't want to wear it around town.
She looked in her closet and pulled out a simple denim skirt and a black t-shirtnothing too fancy, but comfortable. Then, she mulled over shoes.
Tennis shoes would be most comfortable. But she just did her nails the night beforeshe didn't want to wreck them. She could wear sandals. Or maybe she should just take the polish off and redo the nails tonight.
She mulled and mulled before coming to a decision.
* * *
Greg stared up the woman's leg to her knee; her leg bent there, and aside from a wisp of skirt just peeking over the edge of the car seat, that was where his vision ended.
He was glad she'd chosen sandals; he had dreamt of being cocooned in socks and hiking bootsif he had the room, he'd have shuddered at the thought. Instead, he was relatively comfortable. And from time to time, he got a nice view of the woman's panties, and he was able to think back to the night before and smile.
They arrived wherever they were going, and got out, and went somewhere, and waited. Being part of a toe isn't the most exciting of existences.
After some time, another woman appeared. She was wearing keds, and her legs looked nice. That was pretty much all Greg knew.
The toe doesn't give you a very good vantage point, either.
* * *
Andrea and Heather went way backall the way to high school, when they'd been on the same soccer team. They had stayed friends all through college, and though Heather now lived in Harrisburg and Andrea lived in Shreveport, they kept in touch, and saw each other as much as they could.
They also had a common bond, at least they did now: Andrea had divorced a year ago, after she caught her husband cheating on her with the nineteen-year-old daughter of a neighbor. And neither she nor Heather were dating now.
The two hugged hello, and set about all the usual pleasantries two people go through when they reunite after a long absence. They picked up Andrea's luggage off the baggage carousel and headed to Heather's car.
"So, rehearsal's at six. What do you want to do 'til then?" asked Heather, driving out of the airport.
"The day's young. Want to hit the Mall of America?"
Heather grinned. "Thought you'd never ask.
* * *
After several hours of walking around the mall, Greg was pretty desperate for anythinganythingto change.
Yes, his view up the woman's skirt was nice, but each step was like Armageddon, and in between there were the ceaseless earthquakes caused by her shifting her foot this way, then that way, then this way, then that.
He was praying for anything to change and help him.
Some prayers get answered, sometimes.
In a conversation far removed from him, two goddesses discussed the alternatives.
"You know what we should do?" said Andrea, over a shared bowl of ice cream.
"What's that?" asked Heather.
"We should go get manicures and pedicures for tonight."
Heather frowned, a little. "You know, I've never done that."
"Really? You've gotta. It's great! It's so relaxing, and we've got plenty of time."
Heather thought. They did have some time to kill before the wedding. Sure, she'd done her nails yesterday, but why not have the job done professionally.
"All right, you're on. We need to get going, though."
The two headed off, and Greg groaned, unaware that his prayer had been answered.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Heather was glad her friend had talked her into this.
She was relaxing as the nail tech removed the polish from her toenails. The first part of the process, before she started working on her hands.
As for Greg, he was utterly surprised to see the sandals removed, and the feet propped up. And he was delighted when a middle-aged Asian woman began to use chemicals to peel away the thick sludge he was trapped in.
Of course, it was still a rude awakening when the woman suddenly brought a wad of cotton filled with astringent solution down on the toe. He coughed and gagged as he was swept up by the cotton, and then unceremoniously dumped on a tray.
It took him a few minutes to get his bearings as he stumbled away from the cotton. He was among all sorts of polishes and cleaners. This wasn't good.
He didn't want to end up stuck in a manicurist's shop. He looked around, and saw his ride was on the left.
He'd have to time this well. He waited until the nail tech grabbed another wad of cotton, and he rode with it.
But he hadn't grabbed on tight enough. As the cotton flew toward the woman, he lost his grip, and went flying offhe didn't know where.
He landed hard, and collapsed.
* * *
The first thing Greg was aware of was a gentle oscillation, like a gentle earthquake.
He blinked his eyes as he came to, trying to figure out where he was.
He was lying in some sort of hammock. No, that wasn't it, exactly. It was more like a pocket, which led upward, and on either side there were two enormous flesh-colored walls that were undulating slowly and
Oh, Lord, he knew exactly where he was.
He was sitting in a bra, between two modest breasts.
He tried in vain to look up, but the shirt he was under was buttoned almost to the collar. He wondered how he'd ended up hereone in a million shot, he figured.
He wondered whose breasts he was between.
* * *
Heather and Andrea reached their hotel room about an hour before they had to leave.
"We'd better get dressed," Heather said, looking through her closet.
"Oh, it won't take me long," noted Andrea, flopping onto the bed. She lay on her stomach, and flipped on the television. "You go ahead and freshen up, I'll get into the bathroom once you're done."
"Okay," said Heather, grabbing her dress for the evening. "Just let me know when you're ready."
* * *
The motion was altogether unexpected.
All of a sudden, the world dropped, and the titflesh that surrounded Greg was compacted and deformed. He fell to one wall of the pocket and slid forward into the underside of this woman's cleavage.
Greg groaned. It wasn't that his surroundings were unpleasantquite the contrary. But he wasn't gaining any ground here. He just wanted to put down roots, figure out what was going on, and move forward, on to Las Vegas.
As if on cue, the vest beeped out its warning of an imminent size change.
Finally, he thought, and breathed easier.
* * *
Andrea rose after a few minutes and headed into the bathroom; she'd never been a clothes horseshe was the type of woman who just put anything on and, somehow, ended up looking radiant regardless.
Most women she knew hated her for it, though of course they'd never tell her that.
As for Andrea, she peeled her blouse off and undid her jeans, and with barely a care she dropped the dress over her head, straightening and adjusting herself until she was happy with the look. She ran a comb quickly through her hair, and smiled at her visage in spite of herself. She looked pretty good, she had to admit. She just wished there was someone around who would notice.
She walked out of the room, just as a voice too soft for her to hear counted "three...two...one...."
* * *
Greg prepared for the inevitable. He knew that he had to grow now, and he knew he would welcome it. The breasts that surrounded him didn't belong to a kid, and he hoped that whomever laid claim to them was a decent person. The odds favored it, he thought.
So he simply hung on as the countdown continued, as dresses were whipped on and off around him. He hung on, knowing that he just had to wait a few more minutes and he'd be bigger than one millimeter tall.
And the countdown completed, and he did indeed grow.
In fact, he was five times bigger than he'd been before.
But half a centimeter tall is still only 1/5 inch tall. And while the swaying of the breasts were no longer world-shattering, the swaying remained earth-shaking, and Greg remained too small to make easy contact.
He'd have to do it the hard way.
* * *
The church was near the hotel; Heather and Andrea took a cab, the two of them exchanging small talk, never dreaming that there was a tiny stowaway in Andrea's bra.
They arrived at the church with some time to spare. The wedding party was gathering slowly. Andrea walked to the front of the church to join the bridesmaids, while Heather sat down in back to wait out the inevitable period of walking people up and down and back again. When Andrea arrived up front, she immediately saw someone she knew.
"Julia!" she cried, "I can't believe that's you!"
The young raven-haired woman turned and smiled. "Hi, Andrea," she said, the picture of a high-school beauty queen.
"So, have you decided where you're going to school yet?"
Julia chuckled. Andrea had been friends with her older sister Jenny throughout college; she was sort of a bonus older sister. "St. Ben's, I think. I just wish my parents had put me in school a year earlier. I'm eighteen, I should be in college already!"
"Aw, it's okay. Trust me, Julesgetting out of college is less exciting than you think."
Julia smiled ruefully, "Yeah, but getting into college is pretty much all I'm waiting for at this point."
"No boyfriend?"
"Oh, no, I've got Mark, and he's nicehe's going to UMD next fallbut...."
"...You'd like to see what other guys are out there?"
Julia dimpled, and Andrea could see clearly that her "foster sister" was going to have no problems finding a few other guys to experiment with.
* * *
It was the usual rehearsal, the usual plans. Jenny and Patrick were dizzy and giddy and quietly terrified. The people with significant others looked at their partner thinking of their marriage to be, or their marriage that was.
And the people without significant others grieved the marriages that never were, or worse, the marriages that were.
But they all shuffled off to the nearby hotel where they had brought in catered rubber chicken, and where Patrick would give a toast that only left out two of Jenny's aunts, and everyone would pretend not to notice until later, and for everyone, everything was normal, with the exception of one person.
Greg was trying to hang on to the hair as he climbed, but it was hard work. The blonde tresses of Andrea were whipping and swaying as she turned to talk to the people at the table, and it was all he could do not to be thrown off.
He had actually been proud of his path out of the brahe'd climbed over the cup and the brastrap so as not to be caught in flagrante delicto by his hostess. He'd made it to her hair, and he'd foolishly thought that it would be a short, easy climb to her hair.
Too late, he realized that this was not going to work.
But he kept on, struggling to climb, telling himself that he could make it, inch by inch, strand by strand.
Until Andrea, unconsciously, ran a hand through her hair and let it fall back, swinging violently.
He was propelled like a rocket.
It actually was a short arca neat parabola that sent him off and to Andrea's right. He saw an enormous pair of legs, crossed left-over-right, and he saw the enormous foot that he was heading toward as it approached. He balled himself up so as not to injure himself....
He hit a netting, and then, suddenly, felt himself falling through, and then he hit something soft, and hard, and somewhat smelly. And then he faded out.
* * *
He awoke to a familiar earthquake.
Someone was walking, and he was on a foot. He wasn't sure who was walking, or on whose foot he resided, but they were going somewhere together.
He hoped it was someplace quiet.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes, and realized to his surprise that he was laying on the webbing between a woman's second and third toes, staring up through a lattice netting that could only be nylons. The leg ascended into a black pleated skirt far above him, and he could see little else.
He wondered where he was, and where they were going.
* * *
Julia walked into the school not long after the game ended, looking for Mark. It wasn't too long before she saw hima bland, blonde-haired senior with blue eyes and a decent physique. Of course, Julia would tell people she wasn't into looks, and she wasn'tat least, she wouldn't be when she got married.
But she was a smart girl. And she knew that High School romances are doomed to fail.
And she could have almost any guy she wanted.
And so she'd been happy to make the star wide receiver think that he had asked her out.
They'd been dating about two months now, and Julia knew something about tonight that Mark didn't.
Her parents weren't going to be home.
She walked up to her boyfriend, radiant in her black skirt and matching black-and-gold blouseher school colors, not that she caredand gave him a quick kiss.
Mark, for his part, was feeling very good about himself. He'd caught two touchdown passes, and now his very hot girlfriend had come back from her sister's rehearsal dinner to invite him over to her housewhere her parents wouldn't be.
Mark was not a smart man, but he knew what lust was.
* * *
Greg was a little disgruntled when he saw the boyfriend show up, and more disgruntled when they got into the car together. But he was all the more dismayed when they got back to wherever they were going.
The woman sat down on a couch, and pulled her footand Gregunderneath her while she talked to her swain. Greg climbed around to get a good view of a perfect ass, which was shifting and swaying subtly.
He tried to hear the conversation. It wasn't easy, but he finally started picking out a few lines.
"MARK, YOU KNOW WHAT WEDDINGS DO TO WOMEN? IT'S LIKE WHAT PORN DOES TO MEN."
"God, she's throwing herself at him," said Greg, knowing full well he couldn't be heard. "Not that she's lyingand not that he's going to turn her down."
Greg grimaced as he heard the sounds of kissing from above. Then, he shuddered as those kisses began to elicit soft moans.
And the legs kicked out.
The just-legal couple was hot and heavy on the way to what was going to be their first time with each other
And Greg was going along for the ride.
* * *
A few hours later, Greg finally made it to the bedroom, just in time to see Mark getting up and getting dressed.
It had been frustrating for Greg, because not too far into their lovemaking, Julia had removed her pantyhose and Greg and carelessly tossed them into the corner, just before she and Mark retired to her bedroom for some serious action.
Greg had cursed. Much as he had been wanting someplace to restdamn it, this was just getting good!
But alas, he hid by the door jamb as Mark headed off to his home. Julia, for her part, was sitting on her bed, a naked goddessat least that was something.
As she laid back down, Greg decided to do the same. He knew that he needed to stay with this girlshe was his best hope of getting back to that wedding, and people he knew were going back to the airport.
As interesting as he found this girl, he still had a bet to win.
Giantess World
