"Oh, oh - I'm, I'm really sorry about that."
Veronica-Louise's bare hand wiped the remains of a Tim Hortons' off her trembling heel. Both of her hands rubbed together rapidly, grinding the debris and coffee beans. Melting snowflakes ran down her nose and lips, making them glisten slightly against the sun. The chattering of her teeth echoed from sea to sea, across the north.
The remains of a few trees from the nearby boreal forest still clung to her pants. Since growing to this size, Veronica-Louise had been moving for quite some time now, looking for some trace of civilization. Questions like "why did I become big?", "are they going to dissect me when they find me?", or "shouldn't the square-cube law be in effect?" came into her mind; but slowly, they were chased away like a tourist being attacked by Canadian geese. The further she trekked, and the more her body froze, the more she focused on warmth.
She shivered again, trying to blow warm breath onto her hands - it only came out as a frosty wind, tickling the tips of her fingers. Her toes squeezed in tightly against the balls of her feet, trying to preserve heat as much as possible. It made her steps less even; as they fell into one mound of snow, the woman collapsed. Veronica-Louise's massive frame flew through the air, her stomach, then breasts, then face landing with a THWOOMP. The snow broke her fall, but only made her shiver more. She saw double, strange shapes moving around before her eyes. With a moan, they blinked, and focused.
A man! She'd found civilization! And not just any man - judging by the uniform, a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police!
Just seconds ago, he'd started patrolling the area after hearing about disturbances from locals. The man had been looking around for wild bears or shifty-looking beavers. But this - this wasn't like anything he'd seen before. A woman towering over everything in the surrounding area, staring down at his diminutive frame; each little shake she made quaked through the soil, shifting the world underneath his feet.
He flinched, taking a step back as the woman's massive face shifted into a weak grin. It stretched out, wide enough to consume him. Her skin had become incredibly pale from the cold, like a yeti's fur coat - only smother. Most terrifying of all to the little Mountie, her brown eyes twitched every now and again, open as wide as saucers. The same maddened glare of an Toronto Maple Leafs fan who'd spotted someone in a Montreal Canadians jersey.
"Hello!" Her cold breath blew him back into the snow slightly.
He mentally kicked himself for deciding not to move to the US. Shuddering in her overbearing presence and the frosty weather, he could only manage to stutter out: "Eu, salut. Comment... Comment etes-vous- comment avez-vous"
Veronica-Louise blushed slightly at his response, covering her three-quarters-frozen lips: "D-desole, sorry, je-je peux speak-er en francais aussi, French is good..." She moaned slightly, reaching a hand out towards him painfully. "Un nation dans un nation, a country digesting in the stomach of another country, all that stuff... We're the second biggest compared to Russia, and I'd rather eat tourtiere and poutine than be tortured by Putin, e-eh?..."
Slowly crawling forward, the girl let out an odd chuckle as she approached, her words making less sense.
"Non, s'il vous plait, I-I am bilingual, too!" He held both arms up, and turned to run. The Mountie's face slammed into her flesh; Veronica-Louise's arm had wrapped around him, keeping him trapped in place. Two fingers reached down from above, plucking him up by the head. "D-don't run, I'm sorry... I j-j-just need... J'ai besoin de l'aide... help..." Her voice was beginning to slur, as if simply speaking was causing her huge amounts of pain.
He simply struggled between the frosty flesh, trying to reach for his pants to signal other mounties. "Down! Put me down, if that's alright!"
"Don't be s-s-scared. I-I'm just a n-normal person too... I-I watch Red Green and hockey and Jimmy Two Shoes like everyone else... Yvonne du Yukon est bonne..." As she felt the man twisting in her finger, a sensation rushed through her nerves. Louise's head snapped up from the snowy hill, frostbitten ears perking upwards like an animal sensing danger. She instantly dropped the Mountie in her palm - and there it was again. A feeling she thought long lost. With a murmured apology, she pressed a finger against his head and rolled him around in the mass of wrinkles. Yes, it was impossible to mistake. It soaked out, a result of the culmination of his pounding heart rushing blood through his body and the heavy clothes he was wearing.
Veronica-Louise carefully lifted her shaking hand upwards. The tops of the trees passed the Mountie's body as he moved towards the enormous surface of her cheek. Even from a distance, he could feel the frosty temperature against him. And as soon as their flesh met, his hands pushing desperately against her frozen cheek, the quaking stopped. For just one second, above his head, her eyes shone with the same energy and excitement she had when she first tasted maple syrup.
Her finger pressed against him, desperately rubbing the shivering man over her face. Across her cheeks, over the nose, between dry, plush lips... Each second, the heat coming from his body grew less intense; yet she kept manipulating him, pressing him this way and that with powerful fingers and squeezing him in her palm. Between shivers and pleased sighs, she murmured more clearly now: "Sorry! Sorry, but - but you feel so warm. I thought I was going to die there, but - eh?"
His body was all but limp. Sprawled out in her pinkish hand, between two wrinkles, the Mountie's body lay - the only movement being a gentle shiver from time to time. The experience with Veronica-Louise had left him frozen nearly to death.
"Oh, no! Sorry, my bad!" she gasped. Clasping both hands around him, she rubbed them together, rolling him between the frosty flesh in an attempt to return him to life. Opening both hands, she blew on him. It only brought him more pain - surrounded by cold skin, then wintery air... The combination of pressure, shock, and temperature drew him close to fainting.
Having recovered a fraction of her brain from the cold's conquest, the giant woman realized it wasn't going to do much. Carefully prodding his head into an upright position, she whispered: "Where's your home? I-I can take you there..."
The world was blurring for the Mountie. Northern lights in the distance over there, behind this wall of red and white. Trees floating below in strange shapes. Weakly, he pointed south, cringing as titanic footsteps sounded below.
It took a few more minutes surviving Jack Frost's assault before Veronica-Louise came across a little village. Nothing fancy - cabins and small houses (even at normal size) just a step up from igloos, bright lights around them. A lake of ice in the center, nets on either end. Maple trees growing up to her knees. And, of course, people - putting down hokey sticks and cups of coffee for a second to stare up.
The goliath looked just as shocked as the rest of them. Her body had returned to a pale shade; she wiped a little bit of snow off her head to appear presentable, burying one of the cabins. Her toes twitched against the cold ground, constantly moving in a vain attempt to avoid freezing. Slowly, awkwardly, she leaned down to place the man in her hand down - a few people drawing away. Words flew across the tiny people's mouths: "Sasquatch" being one prominent one. A few visiting Americans quietly grumbled something about King Kong and the lack of gun culture. Trying to take a closer look, she squatted down - backside taking out a little bit of the hill behind her. She cringed at the cold sensation.
Still quivering, she squeaked out: "P-please... H-h-help him..."
Nodding, the men and women closest to him apologized to each other and picked the Mountie up by the limbs, carrying him away. Veronica-Louise forced a weird smile that faded within seconds. Falling to her knees, shaking, she struggled to communicate the mixing emotions clashing through her mind. More people backed away quietly, some beginning to scream.
Then, one boy approached. Descended from a half-Indigenous, half-Aboriginal father, and a half-Amerindian, half-First Nations mother, he'd grown with a huge respect for others - and, practicing old rituals, he'd slept a few more nights in a tent than average, and had a higher tolerance for the cold. Without a word, he approached the woman casting a shadow over his village. He held his arms out and placed them on her foot to gauge her heat.
"W-Warm..." She squirmed again, feeling the softness of his touch. Heat transferring from his frame to hers, flowing through her nerves and veins, spreading through her body...
Seeing the reaction, a few more people joined in. The crowd grew from a few aboriginals to an assortment of different people, prodding at her knees and toes. Few knew what they were doing; but since others had joined in, they were taken by the will of the mob. The teensy hands and arms merged into a single sensation for Veronica-Louise, something much stronger than warmth; the knowledge that complete strangers were willing to surrender their body heat to her.
It was confusing, to a degree - she was still numb in some places, and unable to register exactly how many people were there. And at her size and exhaustion, their facial expressions sort of merged with one another; it was hard to tell who was just shivering in fear and who was actually touching her. And the nature of their touch was even hard for her to understand - were they just trying to reassure her? Or keep her warm? Or was this some sort of ritual, with her at the center? Maybe this was why she was big in the first place? No - no, that couldn't be, but...
"Th-thank you! Ah-"
Unable to stand the frost nipping at her body, and taken with delight and confusion, she let her body fall backwards. The earthquake brought some nearby structures crashing down, and knocked many of the small people off their feet. A few climbed up her sides; she helped them, nimble fingers pushing their backs up to her stomach and rubbing them all over the protruding, pale surface. She invited more onto her body - letting desire for heat and rubbing overtake her shame. Soon, the enormous clutches began simply grabbing people wherever they could, dumping them into large chunks onto her feet, knees, breasts, face...
Her eyelashes batted downwards in a huge blink as she saw the boy from before resting on her nose.
"Ah... S-sorry, really sorry about this! Eu, desole, desole- Aaah, mon dieu!"
The villagers coating her body moved against her flesh - either trying to warm her or escape, she couldn't tell which. A few slipped on the surface of her skin, falling back or head first into the flesh harshly. It sent small jolts throughout the giantess.
She shook, knocking a few of the people her body carried into the sky. "I- I apologize for that! Oh, w-wow..." The warm, loving sensations rushed through her veins like syrup spreading across a pancake. Every little inch of her, caressed by little hands - hands doubtlessly feeling her heart beat quicker and breath grow more shallow. Her fingers and toes curled and uncurled - the numbness had left, and she was now taken with delight and passion. The warmth was addicting - like the drugs that Canadian laws were relatively more permissive towards, compared to the US.
Veronica-Louise began gasping, her body screaming at her to warm it more. Quietly looking down at the little people struggling and moving across her, she whimpered "Sorry for what I'm going to do..."
One large hand movement, and the men, women, all people were forcibly pushed by the side of her finger. Another movement - she swiped it across her skin, the rubbing of their bodies against hers only making her heart beat harder. Those near the top were moved towards her nipples, and rubbed across the hard, pink surfaces; and the people around her legs and stomach fell towards her exposed vagina. Gulping, she felt their bodies stick to the damp liquids, robbed of free movement; only able to keep struggling and thrashing across the pink surface.
"Ah! Sorry!... Sorry..."
With another apology, her hand quivered above the soft organ; the five digits cast massive shadows over the people within, as two pointed together. Then, suddenly, they came flying in. She stroked herself, prodded the little people deeper and deeper between the moist walls. Warmth, warmth! She rolled from side to side, trampling bits of the village under her soft breasts and backside.
"Sorry... Hah, I'm so sorry..."
Bits of debris clung to her warming flesh, melting away the snow. Bodies became jammed against the folds and creases. She really hoped they were okay - but the need for warmth overpowered that. As she grew more exhausted from rapid temperature change, her hand grasped a maple tree for support. It tore it from the roots. Slowly, she brought the large chunk of wood and leaves to her legs, the leaves tickling it - and jammed it inside, cringing and drooling at the sensation. People inside were pushed against it; some escaping from the cavernous pink monster, others moving further in, most just jammed against the walls.
She repeated: "Sorry...hah, sorry. Sorry!" One hand held to her chest, Veronica-Louise moved wilder and faster, shaking the soil - her breaths closer and closer together, her voice booming across the night sky. "I'm sorry! OH MY GOD, I'M SORRY! I'M SO FUCKING SORRY!"
And with one last shout, she collapsed. The villagers were all over the place, trying to recover from her frenzy. All but the bravest and drunkest made preparations to leave as soon as possible. Veronica-Louise lay sprawled over their village, like a rosy blanket, moaning quietly. She felt sore all over, exhausted, a little scared, and very sorry... But most of all, warm. She finally felt cozy enough to relax her muscles.
Out of the few villagers that remained was the boy from before. Patting her neck to check that she was still alive, he found himself scooped up by her again, hands carefully wrapping around him and squeezing him softly against her stomach. With a little sigh, he decided that someone would have to make sure her body temperature remained constant. She might need some help apologizing and rebuilding in the morning - or if she decided to go crazy again, it would help to be on her good side. But just for tonight, he'd stay here, sleeping with her.
A low murmur came from her vocal chords, shaking him slightly - barely audible against the wind.
"...Here may it wave, our boast, our pride...
And joined in love together,
The thistle, shamrock, rose entwine
The Maple Leaf forever."
Happy 4th of July, everyone. A quickie.
"Oh, oh - I'm, I'm really sorry about that."
I saw an RSAnimate video once on the use of Internet in dictatorships - noting that people are more likely to use the Internet for porn than revolutions. It was pretty good, but made one assumption I don't agree with: the creator thought political propaganda and porn are completely separate. The Marquis de Sade, Axis Powers propaganda creators, and Tatsuya Ishida would be happy to tell him otherwise. They'd probably also be happy to have a few beers together and argue whether the Jews, Catholics, or Patriarchy are behind the world's problems.
In any case, I'm not sure whether or not porn can influence people. But pornoganda is underused, so I decided to do my own and show off my French skills like the snobby Quebeccer I am.
Apologies if I used the wrong terminology for the boy's race. Veronica-Louise's name comes from a fan-translation of a hentai; she was a "hot, sexy caucasian" who engaged in "Western-styled sex". It was the whitest name I could think of on short notice.
VOTE RHINO PARTY