When Paul first suggested having a welcome party for me, I didn't really care for the idea. But now that the barbecue is going full swing, I've got to admit that I really, really hate it.
These people, Paul and Naomi's friends, gather around me and gawk like they just paid an admission fee or something. Step right up, I can almost hear Paul saying. Have a gander at Mother Miller's Miraculous Toy Boy! Only two bits!
So speaking of freak shows, how about these guests, ladies and gentlemen? First off, we have Naomi's sister Debbie and her boyfriend, Walt. Walt has a mullet and sports an enormous Steve Miller tattoo underneath his ripped NASCAR t-shirt. Debbie is going for that hippie chic look, with long straight hair and a tie-dyed halter. Like Naomi, she wears too much makeup. Unlike Naomi, I suspect it's to cover up the bruises on her face.
When Paul brings them over to meet me, the first thing Walt does is reach down and snatch me up off the picnic table. The guy reeks of something I've never smelled before. Probably marijuana. "Dude," he shouts. "He's so fucking little!"
"Be gentle, Walt," Debbie says, placing her hand on his wrist and pulling it down so she can have a look at me. She sees me looking up at her, and flashes me a reassuring smile. "Hi, little guy," she coos, leaning in closer to look at me.
"Walt and I have known each other since high school," Paul says, which surprises me somewhat because Walt doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who ever went near a school. "In fact," Paul continues, beaming with pride for reasons that escape me completely, "I was the one that introduced him to Debbie."
After about ten minutes of this scintillating conversation, Walt finally sets me down roughly on the table and heads off with Paul to rummage through the ice chest for a beer. Debbie lingers a little bit longer, her hand hovering near me, hesitant. She touches me with a tentative finger, more of a poke than a pet, just wanting to reassure herself that I'm real. With what she and Walt smoke, she probably sees tiny people tap-dancing and singing La Vida Loca on a regular basis.
"Deb, get your ass over here," Walt bellows, and poor Debbie rushes away.
Next up in the Parade of White Trash, we have Linda MacDonald, who is Naomi's boss at the Beau Monde Beauty Shop. Naomi brings Linda over, and loses no time grabbing me up and handing me to her. Linda is a middle-aged woman with big, puffy blonde hair and a lot of rhinestone jewelry.
"What a little cutie," Linda says as she envelopes me with her fingers. My arms are pinned to my side by her tight grip. I should take this opportunity to add that this is totally my least-favorite way of being held. I'm totally helpless, with nothing to hold onto. If she opens her hand just a little, I'll fall to my death. I glance at the ground below and tremble.
"Whatcha looking at, cutie?" Linda says.
Naomi giggles. "Probably our feet. He's got a thing for feet, don'tcha Ray?" She says it in a cutsie baby-talk voice that makes my blood run cold.
"Oh, really?" Linda replies in the same tone of voice, then tilts me down to afford me a better view of their sandaled feet. "Maybe your mom will bring you to work with her next week. We can put you to work giving pedicures."
"Sounds good to me," says a familiar croaking voice. Let the Bells of Joy ring out. Cheryl has joined the party. My life is now complete.
Linda passes me to Cheryl, who holds me between her thumb and finger. Which, if I may add, is my second-least favorite way to be held. "Are you having fun, Ray sweetie?" Cheryl asks, grinning, "or would you rather be down there, where the action is?"
"We'll have time for that later," Naomi says, laughing. "Let's go get a drink."
Cheryl sets me back down on the picnic table, and the three of them walk over to the cooler. By now, Paul has fired up the grill. He and Walt are well into their first case of beer when another couple arrives. Jim and Barbara Rose. Jim is a business associate of Paul's and he owns a deer lease somewhere near Houston. Once a year, Jim and Paul go hunting, leaving Barbara and Naomi to their own devices.
Unlike the rest of the Hee Haw cavalcade, Jim looks like a normal guy. He's clean cut, with dark hair and small wire glasses. His wife Barbara is a pretty brunette, a little heavy but nowhere near trailer park fat. They are both very pleasant and very cordial, if a little aloof. I get the distinct impression that they're both a little embarrassed to be there.
Next up on Hell's Agenda is Kim, Cheryl's daughter. She's a year older than Nicole, but nearly a head smaller. Her hair is coal black and tied back in a pony tail. When she sees me, she flashes a smile eerily similar to her mother's and lets out a squeal.
"Oh, Nicole, he's so cute!" she exclaims, leaning in way too close and bathing me with warm, spearmint breath. "Can I hold him?"
Nicole is on the other side of the table, behind me, leaning in as well. "Yeah, sure," she says. "Just be careful."
Heedless, Kim's hand shoots out and snatches at me. I dive backwards to avoid her monstrous fingers and hit the table surface with a thud. Kim grabs my ankle between her finger and thumb and hoists me into the air. I kick frantically and scream as she holds me up to her face.
"Ooh, I could just eat him up," she giggles. Then her mouth opens and she begins lowering me into it. I scream and thrash, desperate to escape. Her huge, red tongue extends and the very air reeks of her gum.
"Kimmy, stop it!" Nicole whispers anxiously. Kim lowers me headfirst to her tongue. The slimy, wet surface touches my face, leaving it drenched with sticky saliva.
"You taste so good," Kim says with an evil smile. Something flashes through my mind, something Suzy said yesterday... Her daughter's a basket case, too. Cheryl's got her on lithium. Maybe someone should convince Cheryl to up the dosage.
I cough and spit, trying to get the minty-fresh stench out of my nostrils. "Put me down!" I finally manage to shout.
Her fingers open suddenly, and I find myself plummeting toward the table. I scream all the way down...
...and land in Kim's outstretched palm. "I was just kidding," Kim says. "What a baby!" She rolls her eyes and looks at me. "Can't even take a joke."
"Come on, Kim," Nicole says. "Stop it before we get in trouble."
"'Come on, Kim,'" Kim repeats in a mocking voice. "'Stop it before we get in trouble.' I swear, you are such a baby, Nicole."
"I am not," Nicole insists. "It's just... I am not a baby!"
"Whatever," Kim says, poking me roughly with her index finger. She grins again, the spitting image of Cheryl. "Hey, let's take your brother to your room and play with him there. I wanna put him in my sock like you did."
"NO!" I scream, eliciting a giggle from Kim. I leap from her palm and land running on the tabletop. I'm scrambling desperately for the relative safety of Nicole when Kim's hand slaps down on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. She presses down, the soft flesh of her palm mashing me against the hard wood of the table.
"Stay," Kim says, then laughs uproariously.
"Stop it, Kimmy," Nicole pleads in a helpless voice, earning her yet more scathing sarcasm from this adolescent she-demon. Her diatribe is cut mercifully short and she lets out a quick shriek. Her hand lifts away, and I behold possibly the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Suzy is standing behind Kim, grabbing her ear and twisting.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Kim moans, slapping at Suzy's hand.
"Why don't you girls go play somewhere else so I can talk to Ray," she says.
Kim stands up and glares down at me. "Fine," she snarls. "I didn't want to play with the stupid little baby, anyway." The two girls go off, leaving me alone with Suzy. For the first time today, things are looking up.
Suzy, it turns out, is eighteen years old and she just finished her first year at East Texas State University, where she's majoring in Psychology. She earns money during the summer by cleaning houses and babysitting. She dates occasionally, but hasn't had a steady boyfriend since high school. She has a tattoo of an ankh on her shoulder that her parents don't know about. Her favorite color is green. Oh, and I might mention that she says she hasn't been able to stop thinking about me since she met me.
So while my head is still swimming from this amazing news, she also mentions that she'll be babysitting Nicole this summer when the local schools let out. I can't believe my luck!
She's holding me in her cupped palm, gently massaging me with those sexy green fingernails as she looks down at me. I stare up into her beautiful face, my heart racing as one thought tears through my mind. She likes me! She honest-to-god likes me!
"Suzy, could I have a word with Ray for a minute?" Paul is standing over us, ruining the perfect moment with his shit-eating grin.
"Sure, Mr. Dalton," Suzy says. "We'll talk later, Ray," she says, winking as she sets me down. She kisses the tip of her finger and touches it to my face. I kiss her finger and touch it with my fingertips, already sorry to see her go. I watch her as she walks over to where Nicole and Cheryl are sitting.
"Got yourself a girlfriend there, son?" Paul says, once again spoiling the moment. I just shrug. "Well, there's a couple more people you need to meet tonight, Ray. Now, they've come a long way to meet you, so try and be nice, okay?"
I nod and brace myself for my father's grasp. He scoops me up and carries me into the house, where the blasting air-conditioner makes me shiver. Sitting at the dining room table are two women. One is a brunette, dressed in a business suit, quite pretty in that unapproachable, corporate way. The other wears her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun and wears a small pair of glasses. She might be pretty if not for the scowl that seems permanently etched in her face.
Paul sets me down on the table and says, "Ladies, may I present my son, Raymond Dalton."
"Miller," I correct him. "I'm still Raymond Miller."
Paul laughs nervously. "Of course you are." He turns to the women and says, "Of course, that's just a formality. Once Naomi and I have legally adopted him, his name will be Dalton."
The first woman, the brunette, gives me a cold smile. "Hello, Ray. I'm Rachel Foster and this is my associate, Dr. Taylor." The severe looking woman nods and mutters an incomprehensible greeting.
"Hello," I say to them, wondering who they are. They look well outside of any of Paul's social circles.
"Ray," Rachel says, giving me that same frigid smile that does little to reassure me, "I'm here on behalf of a company called GenetiTech. Have you ever heard of them?"
The blood rushes from my face. GenetiTech is SPECTRUM's chief competitor, and the bad blood between the two research firms is legendary. What the hell are they doing here?
Then, suddenly, the pieces start falling into place. I remember the lawyer at SPECTRUM talking about Paul showing up in court with unexpected legal aid, and suggesting that perhaps Paul had gotten a better offer. I remember Paul, reluctant to answer my questions about why I had to remain a secret, assuring me that this woman would answer them all tonight.
I finally understand. Paul Dalton is going to sell me to GenetiTech.
"I'm not going," I insist, staring defiantly into Rachel Foster's ice queen face with my arms crossed. She is unimpressed with my resolve.
"You've got to understand, Ray," she says reasonably, as if speaking to an idiot child. "This isn't like the deal your mother made with SPECTRUM. We're not looking to take custody of you. We simply want to study you and find out just how you came to be. You would remain in the care of your parents, and would continue to live with them. But, we would provide your education and for any special needs that might arise."
"Yeah, right. And what's Paul getting out of the deal?"
Paul sighs. "You know you're supposed to call me Dad."
I whirl and glare at him. "Not until the court tells me I have to. And probably not even then."
My father glares at me, but says nothing. He actually has the audacity to look hurt, the hypocrite!
"Your family will be relocated to Midland, where they will be generously compensated for the inconvenience. You will be shuttled to and from GenetiTech on a daily basis, much like you were going to school. You'll be returned home each evening, and you'll have weekends off to spend with your family."
"No!" I shout. "I refuse!"
Rachel sighs and turns to the stern woman that sits beside her. "Go ahead and start your test, Dr. Taylor. I have things to discuss with Mr. Dalton."
Rachel stands and walks into the living room with Paul. Meanwhile, Dr. Taylor has set her black bag on the table. She sets a small scale down in front of me.
"Remove your clothes and step on the scale," she says.
"Fuck you," I snap back at her. She glares down at me, then reaches for me. Her hand is cool and leathery, her eyes cold and emotionless. The only sign of emotion is the faint smile that plays across her lips as she effortlessly stops my struggling. With enormous fingers, she pulls off my shoes, then yanks my pants off a little too roughly. I'm still shouting and kicking when she tears off my shirt and dumps me, naked, onto the scale.
"One hundred and two grams," she mutters, jotting it down in her notebook. She then stands a ruler next to me and tells me to stand up straight. I give her the same answer I did a second ago.
"You're only making this hard on yourself," she tells me as she lays the ruler down on the table. She lays me down on the table and uses her finger to hold me flat. "Seven point five two centimeters," she mutters, adding it to her notebook.
And so it goes. She shines a bright light into my eyes, uses an obscenely large needle to draw blood from my thigh, and spends the next half hour poking and prodding me with a pair of tweezers and a pointed steel implement.
Then, without warning, she presses her finger between my legs and begins kneading my genitals. I cry out and try to get away, but she's relentless. With one hand, she holds me down and with the other, she mercilessly prods my erection.
"What the hell kind of test is that?" I ask her. She just shrugs and says, "I'm looking forward to working with you on a daily basis, Ray." And with that, she snaps her notebook shut and puts her equipment back in her bag.
GenetiTech has maintained a pretty shady image over the past few years. First, there were the allegations of chemical tests on unsuspecting volunteers. The pending case was big news for several weeks, and then it vanished. Rumor around SPECTRUM was that GenetiTech had paid off the plaintiffs. Other, more sinister rumors surfaced as well.
Back in 1997, there was a sexual harassment lawsuit. A corporate recruiter named Carol Ruiz claimed that she was indecently propositioned by one of the VPs. The poor girl died in a car wreck and that lawsuit went away as well.
Last year, an e-mail started circulating around SPECTRUM. It was supposedly composed by a disgruntled former GenetiTech employee who wanted to share some startling information despite the fact that his life was in "grave danger." He told a sordid story of Machiavellian conspiracies and suspicious deaths. Of course, he included Carol Ruiz on the list, but he dismissed the sexual harassment as a cover up. He claimed that Carol had been on her way to the State's Attorney's office to turn over evidence of GenetiTech's "genocidal agenda," and postulated that GenetiTech's black ops team had "silkwooded" her brake line.
Louise dismissed the e-mail as "urban legend nonsense." But Gary chuckled over it.
"Do you think it's true?" I asked him.
"Probably not," he said, still laughing. "In fact, I'd bet money that this e-mail originated here at SPECTRUM."
It's after midnight, and the party is over. I'm so exhausted, I can barely think straight. All I want to do is get to my dollhouse and collapse in my bed. Unfortunately, Naomi and Cheryl just aren't ready to let me go yet.
I know this because Naomi currently has me pinned beneath her big toe, pressing me down against the carpet. The edge of her pink toenail touches my neck, forcing me to hold my chin up high. It's been nearly an hour, and I'm still not used to the smell of sweat and leather down here.
"I'm waiting," Naomi says, staring down into my upturned face.
"Your feet are the prettiest," I shout, my voice hoarse. We've been up to this for some time.
"Prettier than Suzy's?" she asks.
I choke down my resentment. "Yes."
"Prettier than Cheryl's?"
"Yes."
"Good boy," she says, raising her foot and releasing me. I crawl backwards until her sole is no longer hovering above me, and then I climb unsteadily to my feet. My dollhouse is across the room, across a vast wasteland of carpet. I start walking toward it knowing all along I've got no hope of ever making it.
Cheryl's foot kicks forward, knocking me onto my back. I don't even bother to struggle as she lowers it, pinning me between her toes. "So, you think her feet are prettier than mine?" she asks.
"No," I tell her for the tenth time that night. "Yours are the prettiest."
"Prettier than Suzy's?"
"Yes."
"Prettier than Naomi's?"
And so it goes. It's my own fault, I guess. I spent most of the evening with Suzy after the GenetiTech bitches left, sobbing while she held me and stroked me and told me everything was going to be okay. She told me not to worry, that she would think of something to help. And as I gazed up into her amazing green eyes and at that sexy tight-lipped smile that bordered on a smirk, I felt myself calming down. After all, how could things be all that grim if this goddess was in love with me? Well, in like with me. But give her time...
The entire time Suzy was holding me, I kept catching glimpses of Naomi glaring our way. I think she and Cheryl and that Linda woman wanted to play with me, but didn't want to make a scene. So they just stood over by the ice chest, drinking wine and smoking cigarettes.
Finally, around ten o'clock, the party started to break up. Jim and Barbara Rose were the first to bow out, followed by Linda, then by Debbie and Walt (who was so drunk that Paul and Debbie had to drag him to the car).
Nicole and Kim had long since retired to Nicole's room for the evening. Paul, who had quite a bit to drink himself, announced that he was going to bed. Which left Suzy and me alone with Naomi and Cheryl. At this point, I knew we were on borrowed time, but I clung desperately to the hope that Naomi would go on to bed and let Suzy and me alone.
No such luck, of course. Naomi came over, thanked Suzy for coming, and held out her hand. Suzy was reluctant to hand me over, but had no choice in the matter. She held me close and whispered, "Don't worry about anything, Ray. I promise, I'll think of something." Then she kissed me! She touched her warm, soft lips to me and gently kissed me goodnight. And as I lay there in Naomi's hand, watching Suzy go, I felt a pang of loss like I'd felt for Louise and Gary at SPECTRUM.
At first, Naomi was teasing me about Suzy, asking if I was in love with her. Then Cheryl piped in, asking me if I liked Suzy better than her. I was in no mood, but I decided to play along in the hopes that they would tire of this game and let me go to bed.
That was an hour ago, and they're still going strong.
I'm still underneath Cheryl's foot when the two women stop giggling and look up, startled. Kim and Nicole are standing in the hallway next to my dollhouse, still half asleep, watching their mothers.
"Mom, how come you're stepping on Ray?" Kim asks, grinning as she approaches.
Cheryl lifts her foot off of me and nudges me with her toes. "I'm just playing with him, sweetheart. He likes it, don't you, Ray?"
I hang my head. "I just want to go to bed," I say in a weary voice.
"Good idea," Naomi says, embarrassed by the whole thing. "That's where you girls need to be, too."
"We're thirsty," Nicole whines, walking over to join the rest of the group.
Naomi sighs. "Then get a drink of water, and get back to bed."
Cheryl stands up and slides her feet back into her black thong sandals. "I think I'll be heading on home now, Naomi. Just send Kim home in the morning when you guys get up."
And like that, it's all over. Cheryl leaves, and the girls go back to bed with little argument. Naomi stays up just a little bit longer, holding me in the palm of her hand and stroking me with her thumb as she has one last cigarette. Then finally, without a word, she carries me to my dollhouse and sets me down in front of it. She stands there for a few seconds, looking down at me between her feet. Then, mercifully, she walks out of the room, snapping the light off behind her.
Giantess World
Homunculus by Cayce