After the other shackles were printed, McAllister bid Zava to submit to the procedure of being handcuffed. By then she had calmed quite a bit and she was ordered to kneel, and put both hands on the ground in front of her. As she did so, first, a few soldiers approached, carrying the carbon rings while looking up uneasily at her carefully blank face and bulging chest hanging over them. One was affixed to each one of her wrists and then she was told to put them behind her back, one on top of the other. They immediately stuck together.

She was told that the handcuffs and the ankle shackles were equipped with gravitonics, so each cuff could become as heavy as a quarter of her body weight, and the weight could be activated remotely or by sudden or too rapid movements on her part. As soon as the handcuffs were in place, the ankle fetters dislodged from each other, although each individual carbon ring remained around each ankle.

“Can I stand for a while? I need to stretch my legs a little”. Said Zava to colonel McAllister, who was close by overseeing the procedures and watching her closely. He acquiesced with a nod, and she rose to her feet with a grunt. Mark had said once that Earth’s gravity was 30% greater than that of her world, and she could believe it now: she felt as if two Zavas were riding piggyback on top of her.

As soon as she stood, she got a bit dizzy and her sight threatened to become darker at the corners. She breathed deeply, swaying a little until she steadied herself. She did two slow sit-ups, and stretched her legs, doing the same with her arms, as far as the cuffs let her, and bending over to stretch her back.

Standing straight and with feet slightly apart, she again surveyed her surroundings from her full height, this time. If anything, the number of little people beyond the barricades had increased, doubled, at least.

As she stood, a murmur of awe rippled through the throng of onlookers. There were people of all ages in the crowd; she even could see some children on top of their parents’ shoulders, and some peddlers selling their wares, probably ice cream or drinks. They are here to see the giant alien, she thought wryly and a little bitterly. If her hands were loose, she would have waved to them, she thought. The number of troops had also increased. The walking, armed automatons had become quiescent since she was handcuffed, though.

A chill wind was blowing, making her shiver. Zava was more than a bit uncomfortable with all these people, however little they were, looking at her, from the low angle of their small stature, in her meager clothing, and barefoot… looking down to her chest, she noticed with an inner groan that the cold made her nipples show noticeably through the thin and tight fabric of her top; her scarf was nowhere to be seen. She felt horribly exposed.

For a while now, she had noticed the soldiers looking at her legs and bust (no doubt those behind her gawked at her ass, too) with barely dissimulate curiosity, even the female troops, which were probably a bit less than a third of the troops. For how long are they going to make me stay on this field?  Not forever, I hope…

She could see the road in front of the lighthouse was awfully narrow, though, so she supposed that she would have to leave walking, as it was unlikely they had any vehicles capable of transporting her that could negotiate that road. And where, exactly, would they make me go? Probably to some kind of secret facility, like a secured and remote military base where they can interrogate me… and experiment on and interrogate me at their leisure, as the SID planned to do to Mark and the rest of the little people… besides the obvious reasons, she did not want to be locked up, as Mark would not be able to find her or allowed to see her in such a place… if he ever made it here, that is. Why is he not here with me? How did we become separated? Is he now all alone, helpless and unprotected in that cave? And, more importantly, how the hell was I transported here all the way from my world? This whole situation is INSANE!

Now that she thought about it, as how she had made it here was unknown, it was very, very unlikely she would ever leave this planet. Before, she thought she had comprehended the choice Mark made when he decided not to join his crewmates back to his world to stay with her. But now that she was facing the reality of never seeing her friends and family ever again, stranded in an alien world, surrounded by hostile people, she acquired a new level of respect and affection for her little man… being surrounded by hundreds of ankle-high midgets as she was, was not as unsettling, though, she thought, as being in a world of giants, as the one Mark had had to endure.

She was not sure at all she would be able to keep her sanity here for long, without him. She felt utterly isolated. I miss you so much already… please take care of yourself… please find me… I know you can. She resisted the creeping, pessimistic certainty that from now on all she would have from Mark were the sweet memories of the (so little) time they had together. Gritting her teeth, she held back tears, as well. She did not want to show weakness in front of these people.

Feeling mortally tired after just a few minutes of standing (gravity is a bitch) she lay on the ground on her side, trying not to turn her back and ass to the multitude, but also not facing them. Lying there without a pillow or being able to put an arm under her head was very uncomfortable. She was sure she would get a pain in the neck or the back soon, and her ass was already sore from laying for so long on the hard ground. If she was made to spend another day like this, out in the open… She saw more little people approaching, with medical-looking suits. This is not going to end soon. it’s going to be long, hard and boring as fuck, but I’m even more afraid of this situation changing; for if it changes, it can easily get worse. If they interrogate me, I would not have anything to say, which is bound to only make them more suspicious. It surely would not get better, so she set herself to endure.

****

Earlier, as Zava had asked permission to stand, and McAllister had granted it, he had to suppress the instinct to cower as Zava towered over them. She was unimaginably big. He could see the enormous muscles of her thighs flex and unflex under her smooth skin as she did two sit ups, displaying her magnificent behind, then and then as she stood again, surveying the crowd with cool eyes as she stretched her back, legs and arms. The rest of her body was equally impressive… and well made. 

Restrepo’s jaw, beside him, had dropped as Zava’s long toes churned the earth deeply as her stance shifted.  McAllister had no doubt the island’s paved roads would fare no better under them. Looking around, he could see also the rest of his troops (and the crowd) falling under the spell of the scantily clad, shapely woman… nobody could keep his or her eyes away from the towering, statuesque giantess. “Jue-pu-ta” Restrepo cursed softly beside him in Spanish as the female officer looked up from Zava’s comparatively dainty feet up her doubtless powerful legs.

He was distracted from the giantess-gazing as he saw Dr. Poole approach, with a pair of assistants in HAZMAT clothing.

“Colonel, the CDC staff has arrived. We’ll need to take some mouth swabs, hair samples, and, as they become available, other bodily fluids from the…” McAllister saw Dr. Poole looked around, clearly trying to choose the right word… regarding the people that surrounded them, and obviously trying to avoid the word ‘alien’.

“Mrs. Casafus. Let’s call her that”, he interjected. Despite the public admittance of the giant woman being an extra-terrestrial in front of everyone (the media surely were drooling with excitement right now), calling the young, if immense woman, an alien, or prisoner, just sounded wrong. Because of the undoubtedly human, if oversized, appearance of Zava, and the fact that she spoke, clear, if sexily accented English, it sounded foolish to keep calling her an alien, as if she was some eldritch monstrosity. Calling her a prisoner, although technically true, had nuances that McAllister felt were…uncomfortable, somehow. Why not use her name? It sounded right.

Sudden movement from the looming female above caught their attention. Zava was kneeling, then sat down and finally lay down on the ground on her side with a tired grunt. He raised the loudspeaker.

“Miss Casafus. We’ll need to take some tissue samples to test them for the presence of possible diseases you could be carrying from your world” McAllister suddenly decided to completely drop the pretense and acknowledge the now public fact that she was an otherworldly being. Just pretending otherwise would be derisible, after all. As she was addressed to, the giant female’s large, serene eyes focused on him, unsettlingly sharp. “Again, standard procedure”, he reassured her as he saw her concerned look.

“Just tell me what to do”. Boomed Zava, flushing unexpectedly, her head lying on the ground, sideways. McAllister saw Dr. Poole and the CDC people take a look at the giant woman and then exchange an uneasy look between them.

They had earlier approached the then slumbering giantess to take the first samples, and everyone was pretty unnerved by the proximity of the 150+ ton prone being. But approaching the same being awake while she was looking at you, shackles or no shackles, was an entirely different proposition, and they were going to be up close and personal with her. There had been no talk of the catheter again, doubtlessly because now that Zava was awake, bringing it up to her was going to be very, very awkward. But it was just a matter of time before Zava had to ‘go’, and it was going to be uncomfortable for everyone, particularly for Zava, to relieve her bowels practically in front of the whole world.

As the CDC people started to prepare for their sample-taking, McAllister frowned at the giant woman, fidgeting as she lay on the ground, obviously uncomfortable as hell, and getting even more soil, twigs and grass on her hair; her clothes were smeared with dirt and getting grubbier by the minute from rubbing with the wet, red earth of the field.  He could also see goosebumps on her naked arms.

Having her another day like this, or even a few hours, was tantamount to torture, he thought. Also, the weather forecast indicated high possibility of rain at night; there was no way they could get a tarp big enough to cover all of her before it got dark. At this rate she was going to get pneumonia before they were prepared to take her elsewhere. 

The report from logistics was not encouraging, either. It was now confirmed that they had no vehicle, sea ship or airship capable of carrying her, even with gravitonics, as they could not sustain such a heavy object for long without overheating; they were only fit for short bursts. Fortunately, food and drink were on the way, Restrepo informed him.

She was too damn big and too damn heavy. Getting her off the island was going to be a technical and logistical nightmare. This whole situation is unsustainable, he reflected. They were woefully unprepared, but who could have foreseen this? He turned to Restrepo:

“Keep the shackles on, but let’s separate the handcuffs as soon as the CDC people finish. We’ll have to feed her soon and she is liable to choke if we make her eat on her back… this is no way to keep a prisoner” and much less a woman, he thought.

“Let’s try to find something, a circus tent or anything of the sort to cover her so she can spend the night without freezing or soaking to the bone”, finished the colonel, looking up at the CDC people approaching the giant female’s head. “there must be something on this island”

“Mrs. Casafus” said Dr. Poole, trying to sound professional and unruffled, when they were about ten meters in front of the prone, giant face of Zava, who was looking at them with large, expectant brown eyes. The composed, direct scrutiny of the giant woman as they approached her face made Dr. Poole very uncomfortable, and she hoped nobody noticed her legs trembling. The two CDC people were clearly quite uneasy as well.  “Please open your mouth”.

***

“Er, could you say that a little louder, please?”, whispered Zava, as the chief medical woman piped something she could not make up. Even though Zava had been careful not to startle the three tiny persons with her voice, they could not help flinching as she spoke.

“Sorry…”, chirped the woman, louder this time. “Please open your mouth wide” Zava complied. “Stick your tongue out”. Zava closed her eyes as the little people came so close that she could not focus on them without crossing her eyes. She felt quite silly with her head on the ground, eyes closed, mouth agape and tongue sticking out. Embarrassingly, she could feel the saliva building up inside her mouth and threatening to spill out.

She barely suppressed shying away when she felt the butterfly-light touch of the tiny, gloved hands, and other parts of their bodies as they supported themselves on her lip and cheeks while they worked, tiny, unseen tools scraping at the inside of her lips, gums and tongue. There was something rather morbid about the situation, totally unlike feeling Mark’s ministrations on her.

Mark loved exploring Zava’s body, and he had said in more than one occasion that she was like the world’s best and sexiest theme park and that he had it all for himself. Zava also loved being explored and the feeling of his tiny feet walking over her naked skin; his tiny hands caressing every inch of her.

He often woke her up (she was a late sleeper) for college with feathery kisses on her closed eyelids as she lay in bed. Once, she had said, jokingly, that she wanted to see if he fit into her mouth whole, as she lay in the pillow, receiving his kisses and hands on her lips. She opened her mouth wide, still joking, and was shocked when he practically dived inside, laughing at her evident shock at his boldness.  He could indeed fit whole into her mouth, but not comfortably so, he was just a little too big, but she closed her mouth and took the time to jostle him around inside her mouth, probing at his face with her tongue, his reciprocating hungrily. And of course, she slid the tip between his legs to find and lift his resting member and pin it against his abdomen, keeping her tongue still to feel his manhood grow and palpitate into hardness. Of course, she soon ‘spat’ him out carefully on her hand and then got out of bed with his tiny, saliva covered boyfriend on her hand. She kept him sprawled, spread eagle into her palm, her other hand’s index finger pad keeping him pinned to her palm, pressing softly at his crotch, delighting on his little hardness, as she got into the bathroom to take a shower together… and finish him off.

She continued to keep the position she was in, becoming more uncomfortable by the second, and suddenly flushed when the unwelcome thought of the tiny medical staff requesting to take samples of other, more southward areas, to which she would have no option but to comply. And now that her thoughts wandered into that direction, she was aware of a familiar pressure on her bladder. Here comes number one, she thought, using Mark’s euphemism for urinating. And number two will come in time, too, she reflected, grimly, as she knew she rarely was more than two days without having a bowel movement. Zava dreaded having to relieve herself with absolutely no expectation of privacy whatsoever, and that was only a matter of time… she could not hold it forever.

Mark and Zava had come rather early to terms that toilet privacy was going to be a luxury they were rarely going to have, when together. Obviously, Mark could not reach the toilet bowl, and in fact when he proposed building some kind of ladder, she refused, as she did NOT want to take the chance of him slipping and falling into the water… instead, he had a lidded chamber pot Zava had cleverly soldered in her college workshop that same week they re-met. Zava of course had to empty it into the toilet bowl herself at least once a day.

When they were outside together, as Zava was not comfortable with leaving Mark in the ground, when he had to ‘take a leak’, and if they were indoors, she simply tried to find a large potted plant and put him there to do his thing, while she stood watch, trying to look unsuspicious. Now, when SHE was the one that had to go, to Zava’s initial chagrin, there was no choice for Mark but to enter the bathroom and the stall with her. Women’s bathrooms were seldom unoccupied, so there was no chance of leaving him out anywhere.

The first time she had to pee in Uni’s bathroom with Mark along was particularly awkward as she encountered a particularly chatty friend on the way and she, as girls often did, tagged along to the bathroom. Zava had put Mark hurriedly in her purse and asked her (female) friend to hold her purse while she used the stall.

To Zava’s unending mortification, she soon heard her friend talking to her from the next stall, where she obviously had entered to relieve herself, too, carrying her own and Zava’s purse, and Mark inside.  Zava was painfully aware of the too loud sound he liquid gushing out of her did in the toilet, a similar trickling sound reaching Zava from her friend in the neighboring stall, all which was Mark an unwilling witness of. Afterwards, when she could shed her friend, Zava opened, face red as a beetle, the purse, only to find Mark holding his sides, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

After that, they had gradually become more relaxed about the inevitable issue of relieving themselves in company and sometimes, with no other choice, she had had to hold Mark in her fingers as he had to pee out of a window, or she had to hold Mark in her hands or having him on her shoulder, clinging to her hair, as she pissed outdoors on long hikes or when entering narrow toilet stalls, as clearly putting him on the ground at such times was much grosser. Once, on a long hike, he even had helped her retrieve a tampon which string had come off when she tried to pull it out of her and that Zava, much embarrassed, was unable to extricate it on her own after much contortions and scraping herself raw with her fingernails in the attempt. Mark’s pragmatic attitude to such issues was much welcome by Zava, as she was initially upset at the fact that he could find her gross, which he assured her was not the case, in multiple occasions, such as the tampon incident, which he dealt with matter-of-factly.

After a subjectively too long time, saliva starting to trickle out of her lips into the ground, the medical staff chief woman finally declared they were done with the mouth-scraping and said they were going to take some hairs from the top of her head, which they did after much awkward pulling, to Zava’s slight amusement. The doctor also tested her pupil reflexes with a lantern, and used a curious listening device to examine Zava’s heart and lungs. Zava could feel the hazmat-covered woman pressing against the skin on her chest with her instruments. Finally they declared they were done, and retired.

As they were at a safe distance, Zava felt her wrists separate. Shooting the colonel a tight-lipped smile and a grateful look, she rolled on her back, putting her arms under her head and extended her legs, crossing them at the ankles, trying to get the most of the sunlight that was now more available… although strangely it prickled her skin more than it should… it seems sunburn was something else she was going to add to the growing list of unpleasantness. It was just yesterday that Mark and I were together, but it might as well be a hundred years ago. She started to reminisce of how long they had got away with having Mark around, undiscovered. There were a few close calls, of course.  

Like that time, just two days after they declared their love for each other, she was riding in the bus for college, with him, for the first time out, together.

Back then, they had no system to carrying him around yet, but she definitely did not want to be separated from him even for a few hours. There was nothing to be done alone in the house, as they had not yet bought any materials nor tools for his tinkering, so he asked to spend the day with her, to Zava’s delight. She was wearing a long skirt, that she rarely used as it was too hot in the dry season, and a long-hemmed loose blouse with no pockets, tucked into the skirt and held by a belt. Mark was riding along inside her blouse, sitting on the belt, and lying against her tummy.

She remembered clearly how nice his naked back felt against her skin.

There were many people on the bus, so they had to be silent, or at least Zava had to, Mark could whisper and he could hear him through her earpiece. Suddenly, a male acquaintance had gotten into the bus and recognizing Zava, he greeted her and sat beside her, making small talk.  Zava could feel Mark cringing against her at he heard the voice of the other giant. Zava’s hands flew unbidden to cover Mark, protectively, a brusque movement not unnoticed by the man beside her.

Zava, nervous, tried, partially successfully, to distract her college mate with small talk and forced smiles while she tried, surreptitiously, to move Mark around to a less conspicuous place. Misinterpreting Zava’s frantic fingers pressing him from above, he unexpectedly wriggled under her belt and, sliding over her crotch, landed on the bus’s seat, between her legs. Zava, instinctively, had clamped her thighs together hard when she felt Mark slipping, then, horrified as she heard the ‘oof’ on her earpiece as her strong thighs squeezed the air out of him, spread her legs slightly, flushing furiously. Of course, the leg movement and the change in Zava’s countenance was also noticed by the schoolmate, who asked Zava if she was feeling fine. Mark kissed the inside of her thigh and assured her he was fine, as he ran her fingers on her skin.

Shivering at Mark’s burning touch, Zava had assured his friend that she was fine, just a little nervous about exams. The classmate, feeling Zava was uncomfortable, did not try to engage in further talk and soon Zava saw their bus stop was closing in ahead, and said so to her friend. As her schoolmate was going to get off the bus on the same spot, now Zava was thinking how to grab Mark without being spotted.

Mark had heard, of course, and she could feel him moving around, picturing in her head Mark’s head swiveling around trying to grab something to hold on to when she got off the seat, but finding only smooth thigh all around him, thick skirt fabric under his feet and her undies behind him, of course. As they got to the bus stop, Mark had, startlingly, tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle himself into the elastic of her panties, and as her schoolmate stood up, she spread her legs rapidly and pushed dissimulate at Mark in her crotch with her fingers, urgently.

Now with more literal legroom, he managed to squirm into a leg hole of her underwear, grabbing desperately at her pubic hair to pull himself in, which he did, eliciting a shudder of pleasure as Mark’s hard, firm body slid around her pubes to find a comfortable position in her crotch, the heat of his breath so close to tickling her now budding clit.

She had stood up, feeling Mark being secure in place and tried to walk normally after her college friend, suppressing a whimper of passion. She remembered her legs were shaking with desire… her cunt clamping, trying to suck Mark in as she walked, increasingly conscious of her moist nether lips sliding against each other, and against Mark, with each trembling stride, knees shaking as she felt him slip inexorably more and more under her.

When she, breathless, had finally been alone in a bathroom stall, she got him out, soaking wet, his chest and legs red from scraping caused by her wiry pubes… but with as a raging hardon as she ever saw on him. They spent a long time on that stall, taking care of that… and of the fire between her legs, begging to be quelled as well… as Mark lovingly did.

Will I never feel his touch on me again?