I was barreling down Main Street on my eighth mission of the evening, midnight black asphalt slipping away beneath my eighteen inch radials, when my phone began to vibrate frantically. A rough staccato of fat raindrops were pounding my windshield, and the road was just starting to get slippery. The coefficient of dynamic friction between rubber tires and wet pavement is a mere 0.5, less if your tires are starting to go bald. You don't need to know this, and neither do I. But we both know the practical upshot act like a jackass when it's raining, and sooner or later you're going to get burned. The problem is, maybe the guy driving next to you isn't that smart.
All the more reason to keep tabs on the bovine shape of the minivan currently riding my blind spot. Keeping a wary eye out, I worked my cell phone from the pocket of my standard issue tight khaki pants. A quick glance at the illuminated caller id box, and with a snap of my wrist I answered the call. Joe's Crab Shack. You want crabs?
I heard a familiar laugh on the other end of the line, soft and lilting like warm grass on a summer's day. Hey baby, you out of work yet?
I sighed dramatically. NO. We're getting killed right now. Whenever the weather is bad like this, lazy people refuse to leave their houses.
At least the tips are good, right?
Right, I said, rolling my eyes. It took me a moment to remember that this was a phone conversation, and she couldn't see my facial expressions. That was sarcasm.
I'm a smart girl, I figured it out. So can you make sure and give me a call when you get out of work? I'd like some advanced warning.
For no reason that I could identify, those words sent an ominous chill down my spine.
Sure. I paused. Can I ask why?
I don't know.
You NEVER know! I replied, finishing our favorite inside joke. We both laughed. Listen, I'm about to be back at the store. I'll talk to you soon, alright K?
You better, she said, and hung up on me.
I turned the last corner, and the familiar avatar of my home base came into sight a fifteen foot Italian stereotype. It was pudgy and stout, having originally been a 'Big Boy' statue purchased secondhand and converted with the bare minimum of artistic discretion to avoid a lawsuit. It wore a gigantic chef's hat and white robes (old bed sheets) and sported bushy eyebrows and a Snidely Whiplash mustache. At some point in the past I had been mortified to have my employer represented by something so repulsive. Chagrin, well-worn with time, had given way to simple apathy.
There were no other drivers in the parking lot a bad sign. Sure enough, the inside of the store was a chaotic mess. Workers were answering phones, slapping out dough, pulling pizzas from the ovens. I pushed my way past the mass of take-out customers crowded in the lobby, grabbed my next run, and dashed back to the car.
If you're a young man in need of stable employment, or if you've failed to survive the latest round of downsizing at your high-powered corporate job, and especially if you're an anti-social malcontent looking to make some quick cash, may I humbly recommend the fast-paced world of pizza delivery. Imagine if you could get paid to play a mission-based driving sim, a la Grand Theft Auto. Imagine also that you could do this while listening to your favorite music, and that your boss only had access to you about five minutes out of every hour. This is my job.
There are downsides, of course. Bad hours. Goofy uniforms. The high probability of a grisly death in the twisted wreckage of metal that used to be your vehicle. But ultimately, I would say that customers are your greatest hazard. Can you restrain yourself from strangling college students when they don't tip you? After you've driven fifteen miles to bring them a piping hot supper? In the midst of a blizzard? If so, you're golden.
One hour and four deliveries later, my night came to an end. All I could think of now was getting home, peeling off my uniform, and taking a hot shower. I returned to my car, now in a civilian capacity, and dialed Kristen's phone number.
I'm in your house, she answered, sounding pleased with herself.
I half laughed, half coughed at this unexpected greeting. Really? And what are you doing there?
I don't know, we both said.
In any case, I just got out, and I'll be home in a few minutes. If you're planning on robbing me, you might want to hurry.
Silly boy, you don't have anything I want. And Justin, make sure you come straight home, she said. I'll be waiting.
I only lived a couple miles away from the store, so it was less than five minutes later when I pulled into my parking space. The front windows of my house were dark, the curtains shut tightly. As I made my way to the front door I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand up. Turning the key, I went inside.
The room was dimly lit, and a faint, pleasant odor was wafting through the air. I couldn't quite put my finger on its source, but it smelled delicious. The tension from a hard day of work began to melt away as I removed my shoes and went into the dining room.
Two places were set for dinner, and a single candle was flickering brightly from the center of the table, filling the room with a cheery glow. My girlfriend sat waiting for me. Kristen had combed her hair straight tonight, her auburn locks spilling over her shoulders like a breaking wave. She wore a red tank top that clung to her like a second skin, perfectly showcasing her thin, athletic body. The sleeveless outfit also gave me a good look at her beautifully toned arms. Kristen was fairly muscular for a woman, her active job keeping her fit. Were she not a relatively short five foot three, she might have even managed to look intimidating.
She looked up at me as I entered the room, a pair of glasses adorning her cute face, and smiled affectionately. ĄHola mi amor! What do you think? She gestured toward the table.
I think you look amazing as always, I said, gazing into her eyes.
That's not what I meant, she said, but her smile widened. Kristen rose from the table and sauntered over to me, her knee-length skirt making a pleasant swishing noise with each step she took. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I leaned down to kiss her tenderly. Her lips were soft and supple, tasting ever so faintly of peach lip gloss. Just as things were really starting to heat up, she abruptly stepped away from me. Dinner's getting cold. We'll have plenty of time for that later.
I sighed dramatically. The best things in lift are worth waiting for, I suppose. We sat together, and she served me a helping of roast chicken with spaghetti in Alfredo sauce. From the first bite I was reminded that Kristen is quite a talented cook when she puts her mind to it. Most evenings she prefers microwave dinners or, more often, large enough quantities of junk food to fill her up.
We ate together, chatting idly. She told me about her day, which featured a ten hour shift, angry customers and incompetent co-workers. I waxed poetically about my evening delivering food to stoners and fat people. In this way it was no different from any other night. As we bantered, however, I could sense that Kristen had something else on her mind. It would be easy to say that she was just looking forward to the after-dinner festivities. But I knew her well enough to tell that there was something else. The way she kept chewing on her lower lip, the way she kept glancing into the kitchen....
We took our time, just enjoying each other's company, and so it was quite awhile before we finished eating. That was great, hun. Would you like some help clearing the table?
She smiled mysteriously, and shook her head. Thanks, but I'll take care of it. Kristen collected our plates, and started to walk into the kitchen. Just before I lost sight of her, she looked over her shoulder and gave me a wink. A few seconds later I heard the dishes clatter in the sink, followed, cryptically, by the sound of a plastic bag crinkling. When Kristen returned she was holding her hands behind her back and wearing a Cheshire cat grin.
Okay, I'll bite. What have you got there? I asked.
Oh, I can't decide whether I should just tell you, or let you figure it out for yourself...decisions, decisions. She hoped back and forth from one foot to the other, her face aglow with eagerness.
Can I at least have a hint? I knew that in these sorts of situations I would have to bait her out a little bit. If I seemed too interested she would pull back and not tell me anything.
A hint...hmm.... Well, it has something to do with what you told me the other day.
Can you be a little more specific? I tell you a lot of things.
She rolled her eyes at me. This was something important. Remember, we were having that conversation about our ideal mates.... Ah, of course I remembered THAT conversation.
From the moment she'd broached the subject I had been wary. It doesn't take a master strategist to deduce that this is a no-win scenario for most men. But she'd goaded me, and eventually I had agreed to play along. Kristen's answers had been just what you'd expect someone caring, with a good sense of humor, and a rock hard butt. When it was my turn, my first couple features were easy someone I enjoy spending time with, a person I can talk to about the things I care about, someone to listen to my various witty remarks. As for physical features, I like girls with good muscle tone, and, like most men, big breasts.
That's all? she had said. Isn't there something else? God, Kristen was far too good at reading me. There WAS something else...but the last time I had told a girlfriend about THAT, it had ended...badly. On the other hand, Kristen and I had been together for quite awhile now, and I was coming to find that I could trust her with any secret I wanted to confide in her.
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I've...always been intrigued by the idea of being with a woman who is really tall. Er...I mean, taller than I am. I'm not sure why, but it just seems so...erotic. That I could kiss her without having to bend down. Or that she could just press me against the wall, pin my arms over my head, and really take control of a sexual encounter. I know it's weird, but I've always felt that way, and.... I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. My heart was pounding in my throat as I studied her for a reaction.
She had sat down next to me and looked me in the eye, a bemused smile on her lovely face. I had been about to open my mouth to apologize, when suddenly she had taken me in her arms and hugged me tight. Thank you, was all she had said. I had been so overjoyed that it hadn't resulted in a shouting match or all sorts of awkward questions that all I could do was smile and hug her back.
Yes, I remember that conversation, I told her, coming out of my reverie. But do you remember what I told you afterward? That I love you, no matter how tall or short you are. You don't need to change anything for me.
And what if I wanted to change? she asked slyly.
I blinked. Huh?
It makes me happy to make you happy, that's all. And if I could find a way to be taller for you, well...maybe that's something both of us can enjoy.
I'm not sure I follow you. What do you mean by 'find a way? Whatever it was she was holding behind her back, I knew it was small. Too small, at any rate, to hold a pair of platform shoes, and beyond that I couldn't think of anything else that could possibly make her taller.
Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise to suspend your disbelief. Promise?
Uh-oh, I thought. Sure, I promise.
Alright then. You remember that I work with some Spanish-speaking immigrants, right?
I nodded. There are a bunch of Mexican guys if I remember correctly.
Most of them are Mexican yes, but one guy is Guatemalan. He told me that his family has some Mayan roots, dating back before the arrival of the Spanish in the early 1500's. And apparently Mayans have some interesting beliefs. Last year, when I was having back problems, he wanted me to go visit his Shaman.
I chuffed. Yeah, I remember when you told me about that. All you really needed was a week off from work, with nightly back rubs from yours truly. What's some crazy guy sitting in a sweat lodge with chicken bones in his hair going to give you? I mean, other than a placebo and a rash?
She laughed. I knew how you felt about the idea. And that's why I didn't tell you when I went to see him. He gave me some herbs and placebo or not they worked.
I kept my mouth shut. The mere mention of anything mystical like this makes my toenails itch. But in addition to being a skeptic, I'm also a pragmatist. Kristen had been dealing with severe back pain for much of her adult life, and everything she had done to treat it had failed miserably. If she had at last found something that worked for her, then, provided it was safe, there was no reason for me to try and talk her out of it.
I decided to go back and see this shaman again on my lunch break yesterday, she continued. And I told him about your little or should I say, your BIG fantasy. He got really excited, and told me he had just the thing. She removed her hands from behind her back, looking pleased with herself, and revealed a small earthen jar.
It really didn't look like much. It was tiny, about the size of a golf ball, and it was painted a dirty sort of brown color. From the many flaws and irregularities I could tell it was home-made. Or just made to look that way, I thought cynically.
The shaman Alonso is his name, by the way told me that just a drop of this stuff on my tongue will get the desired results. And before you ask, it was cheap. Alonso seemed to really like the idea of helping me this way, and he gave me a great deal. So...what do you think? How would you like it if your petite little girlfriend got a couple inches taller? She looked at me, grinning from ear to ear.
I wanted to ask her if she had any idea what this potion was made from. Or just why she thought there was any chance in hell that it would work. But the huge smile on her face, the happy gleam in her eye...I just couldn't bring myself to disappoint her. Reality would do that for me soon enough. However, there was still the issue of hygiene. Ah...are you sure this stuff is safe? I imagine...Alonso...works in some pretty dirty conditions.
She rolled her eyes. No, he doesn't. And yes, it's safe. She looked at me, a hint of pity on her face. I know you don't believe in this stuff. Even I have to admit it sounds pretty crazy. But you believe in me, don't you?
Of course I do baby, it's just....
Then just trust me on this one, she interrupted. She removed the lid from the ceramic jar and carefully slid two fingers inside. When she pulled them out again they were wet, presumably with magic potion. Here goes, she said, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness. She swallowed, steeling her resolve, and let a drop fall from her fingertips into her mouth. For an impossibly long moment we stood, staring at each other. The candle flickered in the darkness, casting weird shadows around the room as we waited. I didn't really believe anything would happen, yet still....
Well? I asked her at last.
He never said how long it would...OH WAIT! she shouted, slapping her palm against her forehead. Alonso said the potion needs 'positive energy to catalyze the process.' I think that means....
...that we should hook you up to a live current and let the fun begin? I joked.
Of course not. You know Shamen...er...Shamens....
The correct plural form is Shamans, I interjected.
Whatever. They're very concerned with the balance of nature, harmony of life on Earth and all that. If he said positive energy, I bet he means it in the New Age, yoga-ey sense. So.... She turned and darted off into the kitchen, leaving me wondering just when my dull, predictable life had fallen off the rails.
Kristen returned a moment later, carrying a plastic serving tray. I was going to save these for dessert, she said, setting it down on the table. But I think I found a better use. On the tray were two bowls one held a number of fresh strawberries, the other filled to the brim with chocolate syrup. You know how chocolate affects me. If these don't give me a mouthful of positive energy, nothing will.
I watched with baited breath as she lifted a strawberry from the bowl by its green stem. She rolled it in the chocolate until it was completely covered by a thick layer of the rich brown stuff. Lifting it to her mouth, she winked at me, and took a big bite.
She gasped in culinary delight, her eyes going wide. Oh my god honey, these are delicious! she exclaimed, licking her lips. You've got to.... She trailed off. I could see her body start to tense, her hands clenching into fists. Something's happening...I feel....
At first I thought it was a trick of the light, or that I needed to replace my contact lenses. Kristen looked as though she was stretching, although she hadn't moved at all. I tried to justify it rationally; surely she was just standing on her tip toes, playing some sort of elaborate prank on me. Within a few seconds however, it had become obvious Kristen was really getting taller!
As quickly as it began, the magic stopped. But no matter how skeptical I had been, it was impossible to deny my girlfriend had just grown right before my eyes. Not very much, perhaps a bit less than an inch. But she had certainly proved her point.
Now do you believe me? she asked, a teasing smirk on her full lips. I nodded dumbly, my mouth hanging open in slack jawed wonder. Good. There's just one problem...I'm still so hungry. I wonder if a certain sexy man would be so kind as to give me another strawberry. Pretty please? How could I refuse?
I picked up a strawberry from the bowl and covered it in a generous amount of chocolate. She opened her mouth expectantly, and I reached out to feed it to her, letting the edges of the fruit gently brush the edges of her lips. Kristen closed her eyes as she bit down, moaning softly. Once again I watched as she swelled bigger, gaining another inch in height. Her pert little breasts were beginning to strain against the confining fabric of her shirt. Wow Justin, you don't know how good this feels, she whispered as I moved to dip another strawberry in the bowl.
Tell me about it, then, I replied, dangling it above her. Despite being a little shell-shocked by the sudden and fantastical revelation of the existence of magic, I would never miss an opportunity to hear my girl talk dirty. Describe the way this makes you feel.
I don't know if I should, she said coyly, nibbling on the fruit. It might make me get a little carried away. And you KNOW what chocolate does to me.
You keep saying that, but I have temporarily forgotten. Please tell me, what does it do? In detail.
She licked at the side of the strawberry, taking some of the dense brown syrup into her mouth. It makes me horny, baby. So horny I just don't know what to DO with myself. As she said this I could see her start to grow again. The hemline of her skirt rose, revealing more of her long, sculpted legs. Her breasts were definitely getting bigger as well. Kristen had always been right on the line between an A cup and a B, but now it looked as though she were rapidly approaching a small C.
What about all of this? I asked, eyeing her up and down as I reached for another strawberry. Tell me how it feels to grow.
It's...I don't even know...how to describe it, she said in between bites. I feel hot, like there's this wonderful, bubbling liquid spreading through every part of my body, filling me up. Every time it comes it's a little bit stronger, and it makes me feel so good.
I lovingly placed another strawberry on the tip of her tongue. By now she was at least five foot seven, and with each bite her body was still spurting larger. Watching her clothes slowly grow tighter, her head rising higher, her tits swelling outward...it was absolutely breathtaking. And the idea that she was still growing, that soon she might be as tall as I was, or even taller....
I offered her another strawberry, and this time she snatched it from my hand and gulped it down without even bothering to chew. Before I knew what was happening she placed her hands on my shoulders and shoved me hard. I stumbled back, arms flailing, and landed in the same chair that I'd just sat, what now seemed like eons ago, eating a pleasant dinner with my perfectly normal girlfriend. And then she was on top of me, wrapping her legs around my waist and kissing me savagely. Her lips found my checks, my neck, my ears. She ran the tips of her fingers through my hair, causing me to let out a little sigh of contentment.
I put my hand on the back of her head and drew her toward me, planting my lips firmly on hers. Our kiss felt as though it were charged with an impossible amount of potential energy. The delightful weight of her body as she straddled my lap, the caress of her warm skin against mine, and the ever-present sensation of her expanding against me.
We continued to make out for awhile, just enjoying being so close together. Gradually the intensity of our actions waned, until eventually we just sat, holding each other. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, could smell the familiar aroma of her hair. This is something that many long-term relationships lack being able to cuddle, or wrestle, or just kiss without any real purpose or goal. It's so easy, once you know all your partner's cheat codes, to just go for the quick orgasm every time. A, B, up, down, start, select, and BOOM, you can roll over and go to sleep. Not so with my girl. We've never lost the ability to just...be.
I was so comfortable holding her that it took me quite awhile to notice that something was amiss. Kristen...not that I'm complaining, I said. But why are you still growing? You stopped eating at least ten minutes ago.
I thought that would be obvious, she whispered into my ear, giving me a little squeeze. It wasn't the strawberries that were making it happen. Any positive energy will do. And right now you're giving me a LOT of it. As she spoke her hot breath tickled me, sending shivers down my spine.
By and by I felt her growth slow, and finally come to a stop. Kristen lifted herself off me and rose to her full height. I followed her with my eyes, interested to see just how large she had become. I was not disappointed. She has always been attractive. I don't know how many times I've told her that, with a little bit of effort, she could easily be a ten. But now, I believed she had transcended the numbering system all together.
Her outfit looked almost comically small on her now. Her skirt was far shorter and much tighter than its designers had intended, showing off the luscious curves of her hips. Her breasts were magnificent, perhaps small D-cups now, and they filled her top to overflowing. She had never had much cleavage to speak of before, but now several inches could be seen pushing through the neckline of her overstressed shirt. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but her entire body seemed a bit more muscular. Several inches of her stomach were visible, and I hadn't remembered her abs being quite so well-defined. Her arms and legs looked stronger too. Yet despite all the muscle, she still managed to look feminine. Every inch of her absolutely dripped sexuality.
And in fact, she had quite a few more inches to work with. A rough estimate put her at five foot ten, by far the tallest girl I've ever been with. I was elated, but also somewhat disappointed on another, deeper level. True, she was much bigger now. But she was still shorter than me. I tried to push this thought out of my head there was no reason to be anything other than thrilled with what had happened.
Told you it would work, Kristen said, smirking at me condescendingly. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees, giving me the best possible look at her cleavage.
I...uhh...guess I was mistaken, I said, unable to take my eyes off her.
I guess this is as big as I'm going to get from that stuff, she said, poking the ceramic jar where it lay on the countertop. Oh well, I'm pretty happy with the way things turned out. She stooped over to kiss me again, then stopped abruptly. She sniffed the air around my head, scowling distastefully. Wow, I didn't notice before, but you smell like bad pizza. I think we need to take a shower. Without waiting for me to respond, she turned and walked toward the bathroom, giving me a good look at her heart-shaped behind.
I moved to follow her, but she held up her hand. You know what? I'm actually kind of thirsty all of a sudden. Be a dear and bring me one of my cans of iced tea out of the fridge? She walked out of sight around the corner, and I watched her go, dumbfounded. A second later her shirt landed on the floor at my feet. Her skirt soon joined it. I'd hurry if I were you. I bolted into the kitchen.
It took me about two seconds to find her beverage of choice, and I turned to dash up to the bathroom. I stopped short however, as I spied the little brown jar still sitting on the counter. For awhile I just stared at it, almost able to hear the gears turning in my head. Kristen had said her dose had been spent. She was still shorter than me. Before my conscience could interfere, I popped the top of her beverage and poured several drops of the elixir inside.
Giantess World
