* * * * *
When I was a sophomore in college, I remember going to see this medium-budget movie called "Invasion of the Baton Twirlers From Outer Space." Co-produced by Roger Corman and Ray Harryhausen, the story had involved a beauty pageant winner possessed by the astral body of an Egyptian-mummified ancient astronaut. And, then, using her baton-twirling skills to hypnotize this Russian-defector scientist to help her communicate with her old spaceship. Which immediately starts mass-producing this army of female robots, in her image, in order to conquer the Earth!*
And, the shrink rays they fired with their pseudo-batons helped them come real close to doing so.
Anyway, at this moment, I felt just like one of those stunt-double soldiers as my new keeper lifted me up out of the box, in her cupped hands, to look at me in wonder. She was a Chinese girl, with close-cropped hair (which came into full view after she removed her helmet). Probably around sixteen or seventeen. And, according to Hana (who had talked to me, through the box, as she brought me here), I would be able to speak with her using my own personal brand of "Spanglish." This would help the poor girl realize she wasn't seeing things, or mistake me for some kind of high-tech Japanese toy.
So, the moment this girl un-gagged me, I introduced myself.
"Hola!" I shouted upward: "Mi llamo Joshua. Como te llamos, senorita?"
She gasped in amazement, naturally. But, after a few seconds, she collected herself enough to introduce herself as Linda Chun. Explaining all about herself and the band she would be leading down Pasadena's Colorado Boulevard on New Year's Day. Then, she asked (more haltingly) about me. How had I become so small, etc.
That took half an hour, at least. And, when I came to the part about being transferred to her custody, for safe-keeping, she grinned rather shyly. She then used the fingers of her left hand to peel away the Scotch-tape (as gently as possible) from around my ankles, wrists, and knees. When that had been accomplished, she laid me down flat on my back, atop her lap. There, she proceeded to massage me...after first removing my jockey briefs.
When my blood flow had resumed its normal rate of circulation (as evidenced by my "flagpole" flying at full mast), her grin became a full-fledged smile. Whereupon, she laid me down on the bedspread to her right, before proceeding to take off each of her boots. Then, she put me down on the carpeted floor, directly in between her feet! Pointing to them, and saying (in clear-yet-broken English):
"You-return-favor-and-massage-these-now?"
* * * * *
I wasn't introduced to the rest of the band until their final dress rehearsal, New Year's Eve afternoon. Naturally, they were quite startled upon their first glimpse of me. And, even more startled by Linda's explanation of me (in Mandarin Chinese).
Seeing that half of them were still slightly incredulous, she gently passed me around to them. Each one becoming joyfully convinced of her veracity upon confirming the legitimacy of my "anatomical correctness" for themselves. And, each time they did, Linda evidently instructed them to kiss me!
By the time I had been kissed by all three hundred plus-members of the band, their faculty director had returned, accompanied by the bus driver who'd be returning us to the hotel.
It was only on returning to the privacy of her room that Linda felt safe in doffing her shako, and removing me from the top of her head (where I had been lying down, flat on my stomach, clinging to strands of her hair).
She then explained, with a very toothy grin, the significance of all that kissing.
"You-now-property-of-whole-band. Our-sexy-little-secret."
I've been giving six hundred foot-massages a day, ever since!
Naturally, I've become a little more fluent in Mandarin Chinese over the years. And, in all that time, not one of the band members has accidentally revealed my existence to any of the teachers at their school. How much longer that luck will last, though? I have no idea.
The End?
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
CHRISTMAS DAY, 2004
JOSH BUCKLER'S P.O.V.
JOSH BUCKLER'S P.O.V.