~Ten Years Before the Crash~

            “Delta Squad is down! I repeat, Delta Squad is down!”

            “The whole squad!? How!? It’s just one- Aaagh!”

            “Charlie, no! Shit, where’d he- Aagh!”

            “He’s in the vents! He’s in the vents!”

            “No, you idiot! He’s on the gro- Fah!”

            The Baltzimaran base was in complete disarray. Gunfire echoed throughout the halls, and a growing portion of the stronghold reeked of burnt gunpowder and fresh death. The Baltzimaran troops, many of which had recently been pulled from the frontlines to recuperate, scrambled about with guns blazing, attempting to squash out their lone intruder.

            “HQ to Velsaloon. This is HQ. Report your status,” the radio transceiver crackled.

            “Send reinforcements! We have an intruder! Send special forces! We can’t-” The transmission cut out. The military base in Velsaloon, colloquially referred to as “The Crypt,” was a small military outpost built along the rugged cliffside of Baltzimar’s northern coast. Its location deep in the mountains made large scale invasion near impossible, by land or sea forces, but it also made transportation to and from the base inconvenient for anything larger than personal craft, such as helicopters or buggies. The base was primarily used for supplementary cargo storage and holding special interest prisoners, and as such, was usually manned by a small crew of soldiers too battle-weary to remain in active combat. Today, however, was a cruel reminder that horrors of war were never out of reach.

            A Fidelphi soldier had snuck into Velsaloon equipped with naught but an army-grade combat knife and a double action/single action revolver. Typically, tiny infiltrators make the most of their size by avoiding detection at all costs, killing only out of necessity or when success was guaranteed. However, from the moment this soldier entered the base, he went on the warpath, eliminating any hostile he saw while using the environment to his advantage. Crawling through vents, hiding behind machinery, climbing onto shelving units, and using every nook available, he fought each soldier head-on while never entering their sights.

            “This will fucking show him,” Dennis said, heaving a M2 Stinger machine gun to the back of the basement hallway.

            “You think he’s here for the prisoner?” Mac asked, crouched up against the wall behind Dennis as he mounted the gun on the floor.

            “Why else would he come to The Crypt?” It was a short and narrow hallway with only one entrance. The two soldiers were holed up in the back. On the wall to their right was a door leading to a mostly empty yet still cramped closet. “The moment that bugfucker rears his head, I’m gonna pop it like a grape!”

            The two soldiers waited, listening to the death wails of their remaining countrymen. The mercy of fighting tiny enemies was that their kills were almost always instantaneous. Anything less allowed the larger soldiers to retaliate, massively shifting the scales in their favor. Surprise was a tiny’s deadliest weapon, and exposure was their greatest killer. The tiny infiltrator danced through the base, dropping on unsuspecting soldiers from above and slitting their throats, then using the fallen corpses as a cover wall to fire headshots from. His accuracy was clairvoyant, but he had to reload every six shots, a weakness that could have been exploited had his assailants remained alive long enough to notice.

            Dennis and Mac continued waiting, their attention trained on the open doorway before them. Dennis’ finger rested firmly on the trigger, ready to let loose a hailstorm of lead into whatever moved through that door.

            Silence permeated the base. The only sounds the two soldiers heard were their rapid heartbeats and unsteady breaths. The anticipation screwed into their heads like a rusty nail, and there were a few close calls where Dennis almost pulled the trigger at nothing. They stared at the empty doorway for so long they could swear the cement wall beyond it was moving, taunting them to fire at its incessant swaying. Its hypnotizing dance was almost bewildering enough to distract them from the grape-sized head peeking around the doorframe.

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” Dennis squeezed the trigger, sending a wall of deadly fire hurtling through the opening. Mac watched intently to see if Dennis hit his target, but it was impossible to tell through the commotion. Bullets collided with the thick cement walls beyond and surrounding the doorframe, though none had the firing power to pierce all the way through. After a few seconds firing, Dennis let off the trigger.

            “Sixty-three shots fired. Thirty-seven remaining,” the infiltrator muttered from behind the wall. His voice was lifeless. Robotic. There was a dryness to it, as if its speaker wasn’t used to talking.

            Dennis waited a lifetime for another sign of movement. Mac held another ammo belt, ready to feed it the moment his partner finished off the first one. When a dark object flew past the opening, Dennis didn’t hesitate and squeezed the trigger. Whatever it was, it didn’t survive the machine gun’s barrage. As the last round fired off, Mac shoved the next belt in and observed the doorway while his partner prepared the next volley.

            It was a pair of aviator sunglasses. Now, it was only shattered glass scattered across the ground and what little remained of a metal wire frame. The intruder must have grabbed it off a corpse and threw it as a distraction, but what for? Mac stared at the black glass shards intently, puzzled by their purpose. He scanned each one until he saw two beady eyes, no larger than grains of sand staring back at him through the reflection. The realization dawned too late. A revolver barrel as thin as a needle was leaned up against the doorframe, invisible to anyone not looking for it. Its wielder hid comfortably behind cover, using the discarded glass to draw his line of sight.

            By the time Mac thought to warn Dennis, the sound of a firecracker shot off, and the machine gunman was left with a prick of a bullet hole between the eyes. Mac tried to push him away to fire the gun himself, but he froze at the sight of a five-inch soldier standing out in the open, Model 27 revolver pointed straight for his forehead.

            Bang!

            The .0357 magnum bullet penetrated the man’s skull, lodging itself in the brain where the ammo’s infused toxin immediately took effect to shut down the organ. With both soldiers dead, the tiny walked unimpeded into the hallway, reloading his empty chamber. After a brisk jaunt, he peered up beneath the corridor’s only door. It was far too tall for a man his size to open, even if he had the key to unlock it. The soldier pulled out a grappling hook looped around his belt and flung it onto the door's lever knob, latching it into place. Upon confirming the rope was secure, he scaled up the flat, metal surface all the way to the locking mechanism. He wasted no time planting C3 charges around the knob's base, repelling back to the floor, and detonating the miniature explosives. With the handle and lock blown clear off, the five-inch intruder pushed the door open enough to slide through.

            The empty storage closet was originally used for housing janitorial supplies, but once the war began, it was hastily converted into an interrogation chamber for holding Fidelphians of special interest. There was enough room for two bigs to fit comfortably, and plenty of space for the blindfolded tiny strung up on the floor.

            “What's going on?” the tiny man asked. He was a portly fellow, balding and grey, adorned in a maroon suit jacket. “Is someone there?” The infiltrator pulled off the blindfold. The room was dimly lit by a fixture from the hallway, giving the older man a clear enough view of the sixteen-year-old standing before him. “Y-you!? What is the meaning of this? Is this Morrison's doing? I made it expressly clear that it was too soon for field testing.” The boy stood there, unphased. “I can't believe they entrusted my rescue to you.” It was then the old man noticed the revolver in the boy's hand. He was twirling it like a propellor blade with his finger, mimicking a trick he saw in an action movie. ”What are you doing? Untie me already!”

            “Minister of Defense, Perry Baker, 67,” he confirmed. “What have you told them?” His face was as dispassionate as his voice, as if it were carved of steel.

            “Excuse me? We don’t have time for-”

            Bang!

            The smoking barrel pointed straight towards the ceiling. After colliding with the cement surface above, the crumpled bullet fell back beside the shooter. He resumed spinning the gun in his hand. “What have you told them?”

            “Nothing! I told them nothing!”

            Bang!

            The bound man lurched as the bullet pierced his kneecap, tearing a clean hole in his pressed pants. The boy continued twirling the revolver. Baker winced every time the muzzle passed over his face.

            “Four shots. Enough for each remaining extremity.” It wasn’t meant as a threat. It was a simple assessment of the situation, but the boy’s cold calculation sent his target spiraling.

            “I only told them the specs of some of our older weapons and equipment, and the locations of a few bases they already knew about,” he stammered out. “Nothing useful, I swear!”

            Bang!

            “Gahd!” Baker screamed, another knee popped. “Everything! I told them everything about the Gecko Project.” Revolving and revolving, the gun kept spinning. “P-please, don’t kill me. They tortured me, beat me to an inch of my life! They threatened my wife and kids! I had no choice!” The minister showed no bruises, cuts, or injuries, save for the two holes recently made in his legs. There wasn’t so much as a wrinkle in his suit. “You, you can’t kill me! You owe me everything!”

            “Dr. Adam Morrison directed me to deliver a message: ‘Your sacrifice will be a boon to furthering the Gecko Project and the welfare of our nation. I’ll spare no expense in preparing your memorial service.’” Tears and snot streamed across Baker’s face as he lied helplessly against the cold cement floor. Two eyes, lifeless as the corpses strewn about the base, bore holes through Baker’s head even deeper than those in his knees. The politician hated those eyes from the moment he first saw them; they were a mockery of life itself. The revolver’s carousel came to a screeching halt.

            Bang!

…

            “You guys make your hamburgers out of rabbit?” Miriam asked. She was sitting cross-legged on a rock partly submerged beneath high tide, holding a makeshift fishing pole. The pole consisted of a long, whittled-down tree branch, string lined through small metal rings along the branch’s side, and a reel made from a gear and other parts off the wrecked plane.

            “Preferably. A lot of places cheap out and use squirrel meat, though they still bill it as rabbit as if you couldn't taste the difference.” Lanz sat on the edge of her right knee with his own rod. His was a twig with a long thread tied to the tip, useful for catching anchovies, sardines, and not much else. “What do your people use? Dog?”

            “No, cow,” she sneered, as if that much should be obvious.

            “Cow!? You actually eat those behemoths?” Lanz’s focus broke from fishing as he met the gaze of the behemoth he was perched on. The longer they spent on the island, the more often Lanz’s hardened shell broke, much to Miriam’s delight; the tiny’s flustered expressions never ceased to amuse her.

            “They’re not that big. Not to us, anyway.” Miriam pulled in her line and rebaited with a new scrap of pig meat. “It’s not like we’re eating elephants.”

            “What’s an elephant?” Lanz asked. He watched Miriam cast her line, jealous his couldn’t reach even a quarter of the distance.

            “Seriously? You didn’t learn about them in school?”

            “I never graduated middle school, was in prison by that point. Not that I attended much school as a kid anyways.” Lanz waggled his rod, trying to lure in a nearby anchovy. “My knowledge only stretches as far as topics related to war and survival.”

            “Right, sorry.” Miriam reeled her line in increments to simulate moving prey. “Elephants aren’t native to either of our countries. They live in the continents far to the south. They’re huge, like three cows stacked on top of each other and as wide as a bus.” Lanz nearly dropped his pole. He couldn’t fathom a creature of that scale existing, not on land at least. He knew of whales, but those dwelled deep in the ocean. How could something so large support itself, let alone move? “I’ve never seen one myself, but as far I know, people don’t eat them.”

            Lanz’s attention shot back to his pole. He felt a bob in the water and grabbed hold of his line. His pole didn’t have a reel, so the tiny had to pull it in by hand. He gripped the line and pulled it in, giving and taking in a duel with his query. Miriam cheered him on silently, keeping her knee still so her fishing partner didn’t fall off. She could’ve easily grabbed onto the line and yanked the fish out of the water, but the last time she did that left a gaping wound in the puny soldier’s pride, and she wasn’t going through that headache again.

            After a hard-fought battle, Lanz hoisted his catch into the air and wrangled the flailing fish in his arms. “Look at the size of this monster!” The anchovy was nearly twice Lanz’s height, a whopping eight inches. The tiny could barely keep a grip on the slippery leviathan. Miriam was ready to deliver some congratulatory quip when she felt a tug on her line.

            Whatever had snagged onto her hook was ferocious. Miriam lurched back, knocking Lanz off balance as his foundation shook beneath him. The fish put up a tough battle, swerving every which way and threatening to snap Miriam’s rod with every surge of strength. Miriam pulled and reeled, bending her pole farther than it should, and yet it remained stalwart. Once the fish was within range, Miriam flexed hard and hoisted her catch out from its habitat. Her whole body fought alongside her: her back twisted to give her leverage, her legs gripped onto the rock she sat on for stability, her muscles tensed to give the fish no quarter. Lanz was sent falling into the drink, unable to maintain composure with a fish writhing in his arms and a woman writhing beneath his feet. The coastal water was shallow enough for him to stand in, but the proximity to the water made it harder to hold the flailing anchovy. Struggled as it did, Lanz managed to keep his grip on the slippery bugger.

            “You were saying?” Miriam gloated from high above. A two-and-a-half-foot sea bass wriggled in her hand as she dangled it over the tiny. The thing was large enough to eat Lanz whole and have room for seconds.

            “Mine’s bigger. Proportionately.”

…

            Towards the end of the day, the two soldiers had caught a nice haul, plenty to last them the night and the following morning. Miriam ruffled her hair as they walked back to camp, not yet used to how long it was. It had grown a half-inch since their arrival on the island, same as Lanz’s, and now covered the tips of her ears. Lanz had started growing a beard, nothing thick yet, but given time, it’d become befitting of a wild man. Both had developed dark tans, the island sunlight harsh on their once fair skin.

            “I'm going to go for a bath,” Miriam said. “You joining? Or are you afraid of losing again?” In their downtime, the two came up with various games to pass the endless amounts of free time they had to endure. One of which, the pair's favorite, was a race of sorts to get to the far bathing spring. If Lanz reached it without getting captured, he won, but if Miriam got a hold of him before that, she won.

            “I don't know why you're acting all confident. We're tied. For now.” Lanz strapped his knife to his back and holstered his Model 27, a safety measure in case of a wild animal encounter.

            “I'm definitely winning today. I'm so sure I'll give you a minute head start.” Miriam grabbed her M1911 and checked to make sure the magazine was full. 

            “A whole minute? You might as well give up now.” The two stretched their arms and shoulders as they approached the treeline. Miriam got there first, stretching her legs while she waited for the tiny to catch up.

            “What's the wager this time? Same as always?”

            “If I win, I get to spend an hour in your panties. While you're wearing them. Around your waist. And in the front.” Finding loopholes in Lanz’s wager had become a game in itself for Miriam.

            “Anything else you'd like to tag on?” she teased. Lanz concentrated, thinking about his words from every angle. He couldn't discern any cracks in his request, not that he could the times before.

            “Nope, I'm set,” he decided as he sidled up to her. “What do you want, in case you somehow beat me?”

            “Mmmmmmm.” Miriam held her finger to her chin, considering all the possibilities. “If I win, you can be my slave all day tomorrow. Anything I say, you do without question.”

            “Hold up, why do you get a whole day? Mine's only an hour.”

            “Seems like a fair trade to me.” Miriam fanned herself with one hand and placed the other hand on her hip. “Honestly, you should be ecstatic at the thought of serving my every whim. This is a win-win for you.”

            “Fine,” he grumbled. “Deal. It doesn't matter, anyway. Next time you see me, I'll be swimming.” Lanz ran off into the thicket while Miriam stayed behind and counted the passing seconds. She looked down at her waistline and fidgeted with her belt. 

            If I tied them outside my pants, around my belt loops, she thought, I'd still be wearing them around my waist. Heh, that idiot will never learn.

…

            After a minute, Miriam entered the forest. She followed Lanz tracks to a tree, traced a climb path to a branch pointed south, trailed the branch to a vine that led to a bush that connected to a fallen log, and so on. She had grown intimately familiar with his sneaking habits and was able to track his movements through the dense jungle, with or without signs of his presence. The tricky part came was when he’d leave an obvious marker in his path. Was it a ruse to lead her astray, or was he betting on her avoiding the blatant hint? The key was to catch up as quickly as possible, so she could use her senses to locate him.

            One time, early in their contest, Miriam sprinted directly to the spring and waited for him there, believing he’d have to expose himself to reach the water. Instead, he made a detour to swim from downstream into the pool. The creek’s speed of flow was low enough that even a tiny could swim through it, especially one with underwater training, and when submerged to the creek bed, Lanz was indistinguishable from a fish to the watchful soldier. That time, Miriam balled him up in her panties and stuffed them into her boot for an hour.

            Every couple minutes, Miriam would check the back of the boots to make sure he wasn’t hitching a ride. When Lanz was close, it was easy to single out his movements amongst the island’s ambient noise; his quick, bipedal gait was unique, unlike the trotting of pigs, monkeys or other small animals. At a distance, he was imperceptible, as quiet as a slithering snake, so it was imperative to catch up to him. Miriam continued creeping through the woods, following Lanz’s path she deduced through observation. They were almost halfway to the spring, meaning she had to be hot on his trail. Just a bit closer. He was almost in range. Of that, she was sure.

            Bang!

            A firecracker went off a few yards away, just beyond the thicket. Miriam snapped from her concentration and rushed towards the sound, crashing through bushes and hanging vines like they weren’t even there. “Lanz! Lanz, what’s wrong!?”

            Miriam broke through into a small clearing. An eagle lied dead on the ground, a bullet hole directly between the eyes. The wound itself was so small as to be invisible, and it was only knowable from the thin trail of blood eking from it. Miriam scanned the grass. No sign of the tiny, save for a puny revolver lying amongst the blades, reflecting the sun’s glare off its chamber. Miriam looked up at the evening sky. Another eagle soared through the amber air clutching onto a puny soldier with its talons.

            Lanz squirmed within the bird’s unwavering grip. His arms were bound to his sides, making it impossible to grab the knife strapped to his back. In his writhing, Lanz looked down to the ground, his eyes connecting with Miriam’s far below him. The eagle had lifted him fifty feet into the air and was making towards its nest on the island’s large plateau. Lanz had no way of communicating with the other soldier, but their thoughts were as one. Miriam drew her pistol and took aim at the bird, squeezing the trigger in a fraction of a second.

            Click!

            “Shit!” Miriam fumbled with the safety, turning it off and pointing it skyward once more. She didn’t have time to steady her aim. As soon as the bird was in her sights, she fired.

            Bang!

            The bullet whizzed past the bird. A clean miss. But, the shot’s path drew close enough to startle the avian, and in its panic, it released its hold on its prey. Lanz was sent hurtling through the air towards a certain death seventy feet below him.

            Miriam tossed her gun aside and made a mad dash in his direction. She sprinted as fast as her legs could take her, nimbly hurdling over roots and rocks. Thorny pricker bushes hooked into her skin as she barreled through them, their stinging assault unable to hinder her charge. Trigonometry bounced around her head as she sidestepped trees, half-mindedly calculating how long until Lanz hit the ground, and how fast she’d need to get there to intercept. The trees and other foliage thinned out the further she got, giving her less obstacles but giving Lanz less opportunities to break his fall. The tiny held his limbs outstretched as he fell, increasing his air resistance and slowing his descent as much as he could.

            Adrenaline took the reigns on Miriam’s senses. Her body breathed short, slight breaths. The sights and sounds surrounding her blurred into vacant nothing, her one goal the only thing in her peripheral. Her muscles burned, but her will would not give in to fatigue. At long last, she reached the drop point, just as Lanz did.

            Like a wide receiver catching the game winning touchdown, Miriam leapt into the air, stretched her dominant arm towards her target, wrapped her fingers around his body, and pulled him towards her chest as she twisted midair to fall on her back. She slid along the ground, holding Lanz tight against her soft bosom. When the inertia stopped, she looked down at her chest and lifted her hand off the tiny.

            “Are you alright!?” she asked between heavy breaths. The man rose and fell along to her heaving chest.

            “Somehow.” His panting matched hers. “Thank you.”

            “God, don’t scare me like that!” Miriam sat up. She cupped her hand under her breast, allowing Lanz to sit in it as she repositioned herself.

            “You were scared? What for?”

            “You could have died! And then I’d be all,” Miriam stopped herself as thoughts she had been suppressing bubbled up to the surface. Lanz cocked his head, waiting for her to continue, but she wasn’t willing to confront those feelings yet, not through words anyway. “How’d this even happen? It’s not like you to get in a jam like that.” Lanz turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze.

            “Those birds snuck up on me while I was… I got distracted, that’s all.”

            “Distracted? By what?” She could see him blushing. His whole face grew flush red. “Come on, tell me. I just saved your life. It’s the least you could do.”

            “I was daydreaming…” His rapid heartbeat rasped against the pulse in Miriam’s fingers. “…about you.” He took a peek at her face and noticed she too was blushing.

            “Y-yeah? What about?”

            “Well, if I won the bet. I was thinking about what it’d be like to be… Can we change the subject?” The woman stared at him for a while and sighed.

            “I suppose.” Though, she’d like to have heard a few details from this ‘daydream.’ Miriam stood up, carrying Lanz as she walked back to retrieve their guns. With her free hand, she rubbed her upper shoulder, her fingers brushing over the faint scar on her back. “I guess this makes us even.”

            “I recall saving you from two animals that day,” Lanz said with a smirk. “You still owe me one.” Miriam rolled her eyes. She lodged her middle finger and thumb under Lanz’s arms and dangled him before her mouth.

            “Is that so?” Miriam stuck her tongue out and snuck it under his tank top, tasting the tiny man’s abs before withdrawing it to talk again. “Say some animal tries to eat you, but I prevent her from doing so. Surely, that should even us out.” Miriam’s gait slowed as she pulled Lanz’s shirt and sheath off his torso. She brought the tiny closer to her mouth and parted her lips for him. As her tongue pressed and scraped against his muscles, a dense, tropic steam washed over Lanz. During their time on the island, Miriam's breath had become absolutely pungent, foul beyond belief. Every fruit and animal she ate cumulated into an acrid assault on the senses. The rest of her sweat-soaked body fared no better, the lack of soap taking its toll on her hygiene.

            At some point, Lanz stopped finding it repulsive. Numb to its vility, he grew invigorated by the oppressive odor. Primal urges awoke in him, her scent a reminder of their species’ humble origins. Likewise, Miriam grew increasingly in favor of Lanz’s taste. With every animal he hunted, his flavor grew gamier, and with every fruit he cut into, his skin grew sweeter. Add his salty sweat into the mix, and the man was simply divine. If he were any smaller, she would probably swallow him whole, unable to resist his savory essence.

            Miriam continued to lick him as she walked. She initially meant it as a joke, the simple teasing that made her time with Lanz all the more enjoyable, but she couldn’t stop. She was compelled to get as much out of him as she could. What started as simple lapping eventually got the lips involved as she pushed the man partially inside her mouth. Lanz offered no resistance as he entered the damp cave. Saliva clung to his face and bust. Miriam’s plush lips clamped around his pecks and back, only easing their grip to alternate between sucking and licking. Her tongue crawled down his abs, spreading spit into every contour, including his navel. Lanz was glad she was slurping his upper body so that she avoided feeling the throbbing occurring below his belt. Eventually, and to Lanz’s disappointment, Miriam released him. A trail of spit connected him to her mouth as her tongue withdrew back into its den. Goosebumps popped up all over Lanz’s torso as the cooler, outside air brushed against his wet body.

            “So, are we even now?”

            “Definitely.”

…

            After retrieving their guns, Miriam brought Lanz to the bathing spring.  Because of the eagles’ interference, Lanz argued they should call today’s wager a draw, but Miriam was insistent that she technically won.

            “Why don't we compromise?” Miriam suggested, placing Lanz on the ground beside her. “You only have to be my slave for tonight. That sound good?”

            “No way. We both know you wouldn't have caught me if it weren’t for…” While Lanz prattled on, Miriam pulled off her tank top. From his spot at her feet, the tiny watched the black fabric slide up her abdomen, slowly revealing each mound of her six-pack and framing them beneath her incredible underboob. 

            “Were you saying something?” Miriam's breasts dropped once freed from their restraints, and the colossal, bare-chested woman tossed her tank top aside. 

            “Um, I don't remember,” Lanz admitted. Next, Miriam unlaced her boots and kicked them next to her discarded top. Pulling each sock off, she unleashed a maelstrom of rife fumes to which Lanz stoically bore. Then, she undid her belt and lowered her army pants, her sweaty, gargantuan thighs glistening in the evening sun. Watching them fall around her calves, Lanz noted how easy it'd be for him to get lost in the vast fabric of her clothes. Finally, Miriam hooked her thumbs into either side of her panties, gliding them down her sturdy legs. Her bush had grown wild and abundant while stranded on the island. 

            “Well, lech, you gonna strip, or do you just plan on gawking the whole night?”

            “R-right.” Lanz fumbled with his belt, yanking his pants off and throwing them towards Miriam’s pile where she had placed his tank top and weapons. The miniature pants didn’t make it very far, but Miriam caught them out of the air and dropped them off on the pile, having crouched to get a better view of her companion. He reminded her of a doll. Not because of his size, not entirely anyway, but because of his physique. His muscles were perfectly honed: tight, strong, and lean. The contours of his muscles trailed beautifully into one another, leading the eye around his body like art done by a master painter. His pecks strutted out like solid pillows over his rippling abs, and deep lines came up below them in a sharp V. His herculean thighs and claves oozed power and grace, strong enough to carry him anywhere and lean enough to do so nimbly. His face too: chiseled jawline, angular features, soft and full eyes, and thick black hair, still short for the time being. The whole package was unbelievable, superhuman. It was as if he was designed, built only of the finest parts.

            The only blemish was those scars. The pallid marks stood out against his tanned skin. Carvings, gashes, burns, holes, slits, dents, ridges; the man carried the brand of every weapon in a soldier’s arsenal. A couple here and there would be hot, the signs of an exciting life and indomitable will, but Lanz’s excessive scarring told the story of a tortured soul, someone that by all rights shouldn’t be alive.

            “Enjoying the show?” Lanz teased. Miriam blinked in rapid succession, snapping back to reality. He held his thumb tips against his boxer’s inner waistband, sliding them all around the elastic suggestively.

            “J-just take them off already!” she yelled, blushing. It wasn’t that she wanted to see him naked, no. She wanted to get in the water already, and he was holding her up, that was all. She leaned forward, not to get a better look at the goods, but because, uh, it was better for her posture?

            Lanz obliged, slowly lowering his underwear. A gleeful smile drew across his flush red face as the woman stared unflinching. ‘Not bad’ was how she first described his third leg, and it really wasn’t. She hated to admit that, relative to the rest of him, Lanz’s member was larger than any of her exes’. A shame that in actuality it was only a tip’s length longer than her chewed thumbnail. On the other side, his butt was round and firm, his glutes as refined as any other muscle in his body.

            “Happy now?” Lanz asked. Miriam didn’t react, standing up and leaping into the spring, curling up into a cannonball and splashing a wave of water onto the naked tiny. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

            An arm protruded from the water and took hold of the tiny as a mountain of a woman rose out of the spring's shallow depths. The soaking wet fingers squeezed around Lanz's body, the tip of her ring finger clamping down on his cock. Cool water cascaded down Miriam's face and bust as she hung off the grassy coast by her elbows. 

            “First order of business, slave: you are going to clean me. All of me.”

            “But that will take all night,” he whined, wiggling around in her tight grip.

            “Not with my help, it won’t.” Miriam spun in the water so that her back rested against the basin wall. She lifted her left arm, holding Lanz in her right, and stroked him across her forearm and bicep like a bar of soap. His body was sandwiched between palm and muscle, forced to endure against the sinewy brickhouse. And endure he did, scrubbed up and down, spreading water across the whole limb from every angle. Then, she lifted her arm and brought him to the pit.

            The hairs sprouting from her tender flesh were now an inch long, weaving together in a curly thicket. The wet strands entangled Lanz like vines as Miriam rubbed him into her underarm, scraping off built-up sweat and grime with the ridges of his musculature. The incessant grinding of flesh against flesh, combined with the putrid, bittersweet odor culminated under the woman’s arm, numbed the tiny soldier. Within that loss of feeling, the yielding of autonomy, Lanz found comfort he once believed could only be found in the heat of battle. Ecstasy rushed through his veins, and his eyes went blank.

            Miriam shoved Lanz into the water and grated him along her abs. She understood that the tiny’s body did nothing to actually cleanse her, but that didn’t make subjugating him any less fun. Eight minutes, right? she thought. I’ll use you to the last second. Make you scream for air. She felt his erect dick drag along her six-pack, snagging on her navel whenever it passed over, and though it was hard to tell with him submerged, she was sure she felt him kissing her belly. She brought him lower and lower, mashing him face first into her bush. He was so close to her slit he could almost taste it.

            Then, she pulled him away and mushed him against her inner thigh. “Hah! You thought!” Miriam chortled at the groaning released from popping bubbles as they reached the surface. She slid him down her thigh and kneaded his head into the backside of her knee before letting go of him. The brief respite was interrupted by Miriam’s oncoming calf, clenching Lanz between it and her thigh. With four minutes passed, the tiny soldier fought to keep his composure underwater, receiving no help from the woman flexing her bent leg in an effort to squeeze the remaining air out of him. The pressure was as strong as the deep sea’s, pushing Lanz’s body to its limits. After a minute, Miriam let go, stretching out her leg. She expected Lanz to surface immediately, but she watched him through the crystal-clear water swim straight for her crotch. “I respect your tenacity,” Miriam said, slamming her thighs together and trapping the tiny once again, “but you haven’t earned the privilege, slave.”

            She grinded her legs together, forcing out what little air Lanz held onto. He was so close to his goal, blocked off only by the impregnable wall of thighs. A total of six minutes had passed before Miriam released her scissor hold. Lanz shot up to the surface and gasped for breath, but to his shock, Miriam was gone. No longer leaning against the basin, not to either side of Lanz, and not even behind him, there was only one place she could be: below.

            A foot breached the surface to Lanz’s back and pinched his head between the big and index toe. He had no time to pry the appendages off as they pushed down on his shoulders, submerging him once again. Miriam flipped underwater until she was upright again, leaving Lanz near the spring bed caught between her toes. She pressed her feet together, sole to sole with tiny betwixt, and massaged Lanz against the balls and arches. He offered little resistance as both feet rolled over him, kneading him like dough.

            Miriam left him down there for a few minutes before returning to the basin wall and lifting Lanz out of the water, dangling him over the surface with his head between her toes. Lanz’s face poked through the gap beside her big toe, her sole pointed opposite of her. “Need a break?”

            “It’d be nice,” Lanz replied, spitting out a mouthful of water. Miriam reached over to pry him off her foot. Though her palms were rough and her fingers pruney, her hands still felt softer than the rest of her body, and her embrace didn’t feel quite so forceful as she lifted him. Miriam turned around so that her elbows leaned atop dry land and placed Lanz on her upturned shoulder.

            “I want a backrub, slave, but I’ll let you handle that.” Her body leveled out as she rested her chin on her arms, allowing Lanz to freely walk around her mostly exposed back. The wet, rugged surface sprawled out beneath his feet. He knelt towards her spine and rubbed his hands into her rhomboids. Despite his diminutive stature, Lanz effectively kneaded Miriam's back muscles by exerting his strength to the fullest. Miriam unwinded on the coast, enjoying the reprieve and the labor of her doting slave. Her legs kicked idly in the water, keeping her back topside while the tiny continued caressing her. “All of this, it's kind of funny when you think about it.”

            “How do you mean?” Lanz asked, noticing she had dropped her domineering act.

            “You. Me. A man and a woman from opposite sides of a war, stranded together on a tropical island paradise. It sounds like the setup for one of those cheesy romance novels.” 

            “Right,” he grunted, trying to untie a knot in Miriam's lower back. “A beautiful woman falls for a troubled guy with a mysterious past. I think I saw a movie like that once.”

            “I regret reading so many of those as a kid,” she said, wondering if 'beautiful' was directed at her. “They made love seem so much grander than it actually is. Like, I'd be whisked away by my prince charming at first sight, and he'd love me forever and ever, unconditionally. When in reality, it's just been awkward teens, overly sensitive losers, and dumbass pigs with the emotional capacity of a grenade launcher.”

            “Is that so?”

            “You know what I'm talking about. Lame dances. Bad sex. Drinking together until you're barfing on each other.”

            “I've never had any of that.” Lanz moved up to her left shoulder and started rubbing her deltoid.

            “Of course, Mr. Perfect. You've never had a bad date in your life,” she snarked.

            “Yeah, I've never dated.”

            “Come on, that's not true.”

            “It is.”

            “Nothing? Not even a one-night stand?”

            “Nope.”

            “A kiss on the cheek? A walk through the park?”

            “Nada.”

            “You've had sex before, right?” She turned her head and stared at his hot, bare body through the corner of her eye.

            “You're the first woman I've ever seen naked,” he confessed. “Outside of magazines, at least.” Miriam grabbed Lanz and ripped him off her shoulder. She held him before her face, fingers pressed into his side so she could get a full view of his front. Her heavy breath felt oppressive brushing up against his skin. Her lips quivered as if ready to strike. But the scariest part was her eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a woman, nor where they the eyes of a soldier, nor those of a predator staring down its prey. No, they were avaricious black holes, eager to steal that which can never be given back. Lanz stared far into those endless black pits, and a deep-rooted fear welled up inside, a premonition that he wasn't going to survive the night.

            Miriam stuck her tongue out and dragged it across Lanz's entire body, coating him from toe to head in a thin layer of saliva. She pursed her lips and sucked on his chest. It felt like a vacuum trying to tear out his heart, and though he pushed against her indomitable face with his arms, he didn't want it to stop. She gradually inched down his torso, hovering over his abs before reaching the grand prize. Her plush lips, each larger than actual pillows to the tiny man, wrapped around his crotch, fondling his shaft and balls, and sucked.

            Happiness, fear, pleasure, pain, and pure adrenaline all seeped through Lanz's brain and into the rest of his helpless form. Miriam's tongue played with his package as she continued sucking him off. It coursed between the pole and the sack, lapping circles around both as gale forces threatened to tear the whole thing off. All too quickly, Lanz released, spraying hot jizz into her mouth.

            Miriam pulled off him to taste it. It wasn't the quantity she was used to, but the quality more than made up for it. Thanks to a much higher birth rate, tiny semen was much more potent, and with that potency came a stronger flavor. After savoring it for long enough, Miriam tilted her head back and swallowed. Looking down at Lanz, she found him panting heavy, but his body beckoned for more. He may be a novice, but his stamina was inhuman.

            Miriam tossed him to the ground and stepped out of the spring. While he recovered, a long shadow paled over him as the towering form of the female soldier stood above in all her majesty. Water dripped onto him from her sodden body, and she grinned, knowing she was out of reach, knowing she was in control, knowing Lanz's entirety was at the mercy of her whims. She squatted over him, her vulva scintillating at the thought of consuming him. She placed her arms on the ground behind her, stretching her legs forward to sit down. 

            She sat on his crotch, threatening to crush his pelvis beneath the firm weight of her ass. Against the heavenly pressure, the tiny's dick stood straight up between the overwhelming cheeks, nudging at her taint. Her thighs rested over either arm, framing the tiny torso beneath her. Miriam's pussy opened up before him. It was so close, but pinned down, he had no way to reach it. All he could do was smell the arousal pouring out from it. 

            Miriam lowered her hand to her crotch, diving her fingers in and stroking herself. Lanz had no choice but to observe, longing to swap places. After a few good strokes, Miriam pulled her fingers out. They were dripping in her cum. She wiped them against Lanz's face, smearing her juices across him as he licked her pungent digits. What he failed to lap up, she spread across his neck and chest, ready to move on to the main course. 

            Miriam lifted herself off Lanz and sat down just below his feet. Her legs spread out for him, opening heaven’s gates. He started to get up, finally able to claim his prize, but was once again seized by the woman. Her fingers, the first two still tainted by her tangy aroma, wrapped around his waist and legs, reminding him of his place. A slave had no freedom, even when receiving that which they’ve long yearned for.

            Under his captor’s influence, Lanz penetrated Miriam’s vagina, his lubricated head sliding past her labia into the waiting maw. Lengthwise, he was a clean fit, able to hit the G-spot with only his torso buried. But his broad shoulders made for a tight squeeze, blitzing a rush of euphoria through her nerves. To try and slim down, Lanz brought his arms forward and then arched them over his head as if he were diving. The sudden increase in length only pushed Miriam further towards the edge. She released her grip around his legs and wedged the tip of her middle finger along his taint, jamming him deeper from the bottom of his crotch. The pressure on his balls hurt so good.

            Knee deep in pussy, Lanz attacked the walls, groping the sodden flesh and chugging the fluids secreting all over him. To Miriam, having something so nimble and active inside her was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She’s sampled dicks of all sizes from men of varying quality, but they couldn’t compare to an entire man crawling around in there. The massaging, the licking, the prodding from his own erection, Lanz did things no big would ever fathom. He put his small size to good use, pleasuring her and receiving pleasure in return.

            While he writhed and buckled, Lanz felt the numbness overtake him once more. A seizure on the senses as something else took control. His body acted on its own, flailing wildly inside the vagina like a beast trapped in a cage. Miriam damn near exploded, his shin kicking her clit as the rest of him fought against his bounds. The walls constricted him, trying to squeeze out whatever he could offer them. Against the suffocating flesh sealing him in, Lanz felt only one thing: serenity.

            The two climaxed, Lanz’s cum mixing with Miriam’s and making him a mess. Miriam laid back, her vulva gradually relaxing the choke hold it had on its occupant. Once she caught her breath, she pinched one of the feet sticking out from her and pulled it out like a sword from a stone. Lanz dangled there, dazed and drenched, and as Miriam carried him closer, she noticed his hollow, lifeless eyes. Only, this time they were accompanied by a satisfied grin.

            “I think I’m going to need another bath.”