The ride did not take long. The two cars traveled for about 10 minutes until they got to a private helicopter company and hangars. Becca had talked about this with Zava, who had explained (as explained by Mark, she had no notion of travel distances and times around Los Angeles) that going to where Zava was by car would be simply too long a ride to be practical.
More practical than having Zava go anywhere, had mused Becca at the time. She had thought quite a bit about the practical problems, such as traveling, that Zava (and the public) would have to face every time she wanted (or had to) travel anywhere. Normally these kinds of interviews took place in one of the Globe’s studios, but presidents and celebrities sometimes hosted the interview in their own villas, which was going to be the case this time.
Once in the hangars, they moved all the gear and luggage to a big heli and then all boarded and were off. Off north, Becca noted. She stole glances at her tablet from time to time, which at length informed her they were heading for Avila Beach in the San Luis Obispo area. Before the ride, Mark gave each a small wireless microphone for their lapels, explaining that Zava had a matching hearing aid in one of her earrings, as people’s voices at a normal speaking volume were often too small to reach Zava’s ears if she was standing, and that it was for their own safety. He also warned them to stay well clear of her if Zava had their back turned to them, and especially if she was standing it was vital to keep her informed at all times of their whereabouts, as it was easy to be injured by her, inadvertently. He did not say what all were thinking anyway, pondered Becca, glumly: be careful around her or you could end up as street pizza.
During the trip, Becca had been looking out the window of the helicopter, enjoying the sights of the Pacific and the desert… they were flying high and fast. When they started to descend, something blue and white in the mosaic of green and yellow patches of the desert caught Becca’s eye. She looked at it intently and saw, in a relatively secluded hollow among rocky hills, what seemed like a field covered by grass, encircled by knolls which separated it from the beach. On it there was a person dressed in blue, on the field, seemingly walking towards a modestly sized square shack nearby, painted bright white. I thought we were flying higher…
The figure seemed to be looking up at the approaching helicopter, while shading the eyes with one hand, shielding them from the sun. Becca found this only mildly interesting and the person on the ground attracted her attention only because it was the one piece of color down there, so out of place. But then the helicopter veered towards the shack. As they got closer, Becca saw that the figure was that of a woman. Becca was starting to dread another road trip (she was impatient to perform the interview), when, eyes growing wide, she realized that something was off. That is no shack… that is a hangar!!! And that is…
It was Zava, obviously. The helicopter pitched and yawed and started to descend while circling the dale where the hangar was. Becca looked back at the camerawoman and was about to mouth her “are you getting this”, but she already was, as was the cameraman, and neither of them was looking at Becca to see her talk to them, completely engrossed as they were in capturing video and stills of the flyover they were being treated to. Becca looked at the pilot, which was quite calm, quite certainly a sign he had been here before. The rest of the crew gaped, astounded.
Soon the helicopter had landed; by now Zava was near the hangar, giving the heli much needed room. The crew got busy unloading all the stuff they had brought, and Becca, followed by Mark, did not waste any time to walk up the driveway to the hangar, where Zava was waiting for them, about 300 feet away. Becca now noticed there was a 50 feet wheeled scaffold nearby, with a lift attached.
This is it. Thought Becca, looking in awe at the giant being before her. Admittedly, she had seen her before, albeit from a distance, but being not only closer, but having the enormous woman full attention was more harrowing than she anticipated. When they arrived, Zava had first looked at Mark and then she swept her gaze over the crew and their maneuvers with their gear and the helicopter. But when Becca started to walk up the driveway with Mark in tow, Zava’s head turned briskly and looked directly at the journalist, who only realized she had stopped in her tracks when Mark passed her and then, realizing she had stopped, he turned and looked at her quizzically. Becca felt the regard of the giantess like a physical weight landing on her, the giant dark eyes and dark nostrils pointing towards her. It is odd how you fixate in details such as the fact that it’s impossible for us to be near her without looking up her nose… or her skirt.
She had not meant to stop, but it was a primal reaction, such as when a mouse realizes he is being stalked by a cat. Recovering quickly, she resumed walking and again passed Mark, feeling the giant woman’s eyes follow her. Becca noted, a bit annoyed, that Zava had the intent expression of someone who is watching a kitten or a little bird’s frolics but is at the same time trying not to let it show, as in this case the kitten might object at being patronized. I guess we must all seem like little toys to her… I feel so vulnerable… even afraid! Becca avoided Zava’s eyes and, suppressing a shudder, tried to reason her way out of the uneasiness she felt at approaching such an enormous being, towering above everyone. Then Zava gave a little step forward, ostensibly to greet them, and Becca again, cursing internally, not only stopped but actually retreated one step, involuntarily, her eyes watching, warily, Zava’s feet, wearing sandals with golden straps.
Zava realized, chagrined, that she had startled Becca and then, with slow and deliberate movements, kneeled on the spot, curling her hands on her lap, trying to look as harmless as possible. Becca recovered her nerve and advanced again. By now the crew had caught up with Mark and her and were a few steps behind.
“Um… Good morning Ms… I mean, Becca, and everyone. Welcome!” She said.
The completely guileless smile of Zava and the honesty bashful demeanor of the giant girl disarmed Becca of the slight resentment that was building up. My god, she even blushed! Who the hell even blushes in this day and age? Becca realized, the tanned complexion of Zava’s cheeks and neck reddening noticeably. Obviously Zava did not have the slightest intention of being intimidating, but she could not help looming over everyone. The girl was in a close-fitting blue gown, reaching to just below her knees, which were now uncovered, the dress hiking up Zava’s legs as she kneeled there. Becca and the others were about 20 or so feet in front of Zava’s knees, which were tightly squeezed together.
“Uh… hello Zava, nice to finally meet you” she said. “Might I shake your hand? I do not know if this is a custom where you come from, but here…” she extended her hand forward, feeling more than a little silly. Beaming, Zava lowered her right hand with her pinky finger extended and, bending a little at the waist and neck, got it closer to Becca, who noticed that the giant hand was the size (and likely having the endurance) of a wrecking ball. Everything about her is massive, said Becca, realizing that her imagination had been short of actually helping her prepare for the experience she was just having. Becca gripped the giant finger being offered with both hands, one not being enough, trying not to stare at it in disbelief, feeling the soft but very tough skin and the hard, shiny (and unpainted) nails. The finger retreated, and Becca introduced her crew, everyone taking turns in shaking hands or rather fingers with the giantess. Zava politely repeated everybody’s name and greeted them warmly, offering Mark a flirty wink.
While this happened, relieved not to be pinned by Zava’s gaze for a bit, Becca took the time to examine the giantess at leisure. Even kneeling, the alien woman was over 30 feet tall. She was cinnamon-skinned, with dark, almond shaped eyes and a vaguely ethnic cast to her features, like South American or perhaps middle-Eastern. Her features were delicate and elegant, with high cheekbones, and full lips (she was wearing no makeup, as requested) in a not overly large mouth, with very white teeth. Her brow was smooth and peaceful, her hair, almost reaching the small of her back, was so black as to almost give a blue sheen. Her hair was loose, resting in pleasingly looking locks over her shoulders. Her arms, bare, were long, athletic and shapely. Her enormous hands were by no means brutish, but with remarkably slender fingers, and well-cared for, short nails.
The blue gown Zava was wearing was suspended from Zava’s shoulders with thin straps, exposing a sexy, well formed décolletage, not too revealing but it would be next to impossible not to notice Zava’s undeniable natural endowments. Finally, Becca’s gaze turned, unbidden, to the nearest part of Zava’s anatomy: her knees… beyond which lay... Get your mind out of the gutter! Becca averted her gaze and looked at Mark.
The sight of Zava’s closed legs brought to mind the fact that Mark not Zava’s caretaker nor merely a pet of hers. They had declared openly that they were engaged. Becca spared a sidelong glance at the hulking extraterrestrial woman. That must mean that unless Zava’s culture expects her to wait until marriage, they must have had sex already … how does that even work?!? She thought among a mix of horror and curiosity, how a naked Zava would look like, all 80 feet of gargantuan, naked woman. The subject of body intimacy between Mark and Zava was something she would have to toe the line with in her interview, but offending Zava was not an option…. For a variety of reasons. Becca was glad Zava was not a man, as a giant man would be much more intimidating than an obviously young, kind girl.
Becca’s fertile imagination made her imagine how a squad of armed giant soldiers would look and could not suppress a shiver of fear. Ten 200-ton burly men with automatic weapons and body armor running across the landscape at 80 miles per hour would be nigh unstoppable. And what about a squad of giant armed fighter planes? No wonder the Pentagon is afraid of an invasion… these are not little green men. Are all people in her world as tough as her?
Because the whole world had seen how Zava had withstood an explosion with high explosives and fire that would have decimated an army in seconds. And without even a scratch. I’m pretty sure she must have the Pentagon and others very worried. What if she decided to take over? What if someone tries to harm Mark… how could we… anyone… stop her from having the revenge she promised would unleash? And what would we do afterwards, if she does, and resists arrest?
All these thoughts were over in a flash in Becca’s mind, quick as lightning. Seeing the introductions had finished, Becca said:
“Zava, before we start the interview with you, I was wondering if Mark would perhaps show me around while the makeup crew gets you ready for the camera? We are recording in 8K and believe me when I say that you don’t really want to skimp on makeup at that res.”
“Oh, of course, please come in and sorry for the mess!” Said Zava, turning her attention to the crew. As asked, Mark, accompanied by the camerawoman, who was already filming, guided Becca into the hangar, which had a kind of Eastern décor feel to it, with rugs and huge cushions around, and an equally enormous cushion that worked as a mattress, and a giant (of course) trunk, for Zava’s clothes and possessions. Mark explained that it was by necessity rather than design, as making chairs, wardrobe and tables for Zava would be costly and impractical.
There was a white wall, like a cinema, in front of the mattress, even a coffee table, proportionated for Zava, and in outside, in the back of the hangar, a giant shower had been fitted, sheltered from view from the driveway by the bulk of the hangar. There was also an enclosure with walls six-meter-tall, a little apart, that Mark explained, was the sanitary services for Zava. Another, smaller building, had the fridge and pantry, Mark explained.
The hangar was over 20 m tall, but Becca expected Zava would have to stoop or crawl inside if she did not want to inadvertently rip the trusses with her head. Everything looked clean and cozy. While they were having the walkthrough, Becca started the interview, making mostly small talk with Mark, but without going too deep, as she wanted to ask more of Zava.
Having the opportunity to talk to a sentient being from somewhere other than Earth was truly once in a lifetime opportunity for any journalist. The country Zava came from, in fact her entire planet, had to have an entirely different evolutionary history and human (if they could be called that) history than Earth. So many things to ask… so little time!
****
As the crew introduced themselves, Mark looked at them in faint amusement at the usual reactions to his lovely Zava; men and women alike were trying not to stare in awe and disbelief at her huge approaching hands, enormous legs and her mammoth and just as massively eye-snaring cleavage. This particular endowment of Zava was particularly hard to miss, as she had to lean forward slightly to shake fingers with everyone. How could you keep your eyes off them, each boob bigger than a person?
Mark had noticed, of course, the fiery redhead reporter had shaken in her high-heeled shoes when Zava turned to look straight at her. Oh Becca, and you have not even been on the receiving end of one of her glares, as I have, he thought, chuckling inwardly. As the mutual pleasantries continued, he mused, looking around, that they had no idea of the scene that transpired just the day before just where they were standing.
Zava had been delighted in the change from the chilly (to her) New England area to warm, sunny Southern California. Just the day before, she had been lying in her black bikini on a giant towel in the grass in front of the garden. After being a while face up, she faced down when she felt her front had had enough sun, head resting on her pillow, trying to relax for the interview in the following day. She fell asleep in this position.
Mark, wearing only beach shorts, had taken his time approaching Zava from behind to enjoy the view at leisure. Standing just beyond her feet, he could see Zava’s legs and especially her inviting thighs, slightly spread, slightly flattened against the ground. Beyond, her lovely ass, so wide, so womanly. In the distance, as her face lay on its side on the pillow, her head slightly raised by the pillow, her shapely ear and eyelashes fluttering slightly as she napped, the very picture of tranquility and beguiling femininity. And of course, in the middle of all that, her slit, covered only by a flimsy strip of black cloth, beckoning him.
He answered the call, walking in the valley of her outstretched legs, fully aware that being there without Zava’s acknowledgement was dangerous: any movement of her could be, while he was there. Soon he was just in front of the juncture of her thighs, admiring the swell of her covered vulva, wishing she was sunbathing in the nude, but of course, with the federal agents and video surveillance spread around the property, out of view, but clearly there, it was just not decent. Sighing with resignation, he retraced his steps and walked all the way to Zava’s sleeping face. He smiled with adoration at her kittenish sighs, slightly parted lips and the closed eyes of his giant lover, with her long, almost foot-long eyelashes, and her slightly twitching eyelids. Getting closer to her mouth, he sneakily pulled his cock out of his trousers and lay it in the crevice of her lips, delighting in the warm, moist feel in his steadily hardening cock.
Zava’s lips curved in silent approval when she felt him, her tongue polling slightly out of her lips to probe his manhood, her warm saliva so good on his cock his legs shook.
“I think I had enough sun, dear”. Zava said, sleepily. “Let’s go inside”.
They did. Zava took the lead and as soon as he was inside, she closed the heavy hangar doors with ease, then, with practiced straightforwardness, she stripped (as did he) and lay down on the mattress face down, without further ado, giving him leave to take the lead, as evidenced by her now more widely spread legs. Mark climbed on the mattress and walked up to Zava’s head, climbing her hair grabbing it by the fistfuls, eliciting giggles, which continued as he strolled up down her back to one of her ass cheeks, enjoying thoroughly the feel of her giving butt-flesh under his naked soles.
The view from there was quite delightful. Her splayed, shapely legs just before him, extending a ridiculous distance from her ass. As soon as she felt him there, Zava reached out and picked up Mark’s latest contraption. It was an oddly shaped steel bar, coated with soft silicone, and curled on itself not unlike a 3D pretzel. Zava reached back and deftly inserted the two ends of this device on her pussy and let go. It gaped her pussy, and soon her hand reached for Mark, who was delicately picked up and lowered towards her crotch. One leg straight, the other bent and sprawled, Zava moaned with relish as she felt Mark’s hard body crawl inside her cunt, pushing with his strong legs on her palm and fingers, his arms tickling her insides. It’s so much better when he does it on his own… she purred mentally as his wriggling inside her made her squeal in bliss.
Soon he was scratching that place, his limbs pushing against her inner walls with wet, sloshing sounds. She could feel moisture seeping out of her, her body shaking uncontrollably as Mark skillfully pushed all the right buttons. Oh… my sweet little man… what are you…. Ohhhhh!!!
Her vagina contracted and pulsed. Zava could feel her vagina wanting to clamp tight, the steel rods giving in slightly. She could feel now two clear pressure points inside her as Mark pushed against her walls with both feet, as he licked, scratched or whatever (soooo gooood) he was doing. Then she clamped her legs together as the orgasm overwhelmed her, her body bucking irrepressibly, her mouth completely open, nipples, clit and more on fire. In the throes of pleasure, she could feel Mark twisting inside her, wriggling his way out, this only arousing her more and more, in a gush of close-together climaxes that left her breathless and holding her forehead.
Finally, she remembered Mark was still inside her. She spread her legs.
“Mark? Are you OK?”
“Why wouldn’t I be”. He laughed, also panting with exertion.
“Oh Mark, it’s so arousing talking with you while you are inside….” She added, shuddering as he squirmed his way out.
“Zav, get your finger in here, please”.
“What’s the matter? Are you stuck?” she said with a mixture of concern and shame.
Zava rolled on her back. Looking down, she saw no sign of Mark, only seeing the device keeping her gaped. Of course, she could not see her opening, as it was too below her to be able to peek. So, she inserted her index finger in her hole, feeling around. With a thrill of pleasure, she felt Mark grab her fingertip with both hands. She tried to pull him out, but he released her finger.
She tentatively pushed her slender digit deeper again until she felt him grab her again… and pull toward him to lick the very tip, under her fingernail, with his tongue. His touch, both of his fingers, and his tongue was so subtle, yet so electrifying that her pussy throbbed anew, hugging what it could of Mark’s body. Her other hand started to rub her clit furiously, and in seconds her third orgasm exploded. Zava could only grunt repeatedly, exhausted by pleasure, bracing herself on the mattress with her arms, legs as spread as they would go, hips rearing repeatedly, until the pulsations subsided. Then she sat up, looking down at her slit to see Mark emerge.
Mark loved the view every time he came out of their insertion sessions. When his head and shoulders cleared Zava’s entrance, he could look to both sides to the erotic landscape of Melina’s long legs spread before him, toes curling in the distance. Looking down, her buttocks flattened against the mattress, and twisting his body to look up, the rest of her slit (looking surprisingly long from this perspective), lewdly flaring labia and of course her crowning, burgeoning clit, her thick strip of pubes and up, up Zava’s open mouth and glassy, satisfied and slightly incredulous eyes were visible.
Her hand descended and delicately pinched him on the shoulders, but he was too wet and slippery for her to be able to grasp him without squeezing too much, so she then curled her index finger and he clung with both arms at the impromptu hook when he had it within reach, and then he was pulled out of her with a loud slurping sound, looking up to enjoy Zava’s mouth opening wider as she savored the friction of his body with a long sigh. He had blown his load long ago inside Zava. She deposited her between her legs, retrieved the spreader from her, and set it aside.
They both locked eyes, bursting with love, as Zava playfully, lazily slid her middle finger along her wet slit, tickling her opening at times, sticking it inside for Mark’s benefit all the way to her knuckle, smirking at his rapt attention so commanded. This tops the desert lovemaking, Mark thought, seeing the vast folds roll under her colossal finger.
The day Zava and Mark landed on the desert secret military base, a week ago, Zava had carried him untold miles into the desert under the moonlight, directed by Mark. In a secluded, barren dale, she suddenly put Mark and the crate down and said.
“Make love to me now Mark. Nobody can see or hear us now”. She said “I want to enjoy you now before we are surrounded by people again… who knows who, what or how many await us there…”.
“Take off your clothes, Zav… let me see you”. She undressed with urgency, her hands trembling. She lay back on the sand, spreading her legs and pulling her knees by pulling with her hands on the back of her knees up until these were almost level with her ears, feet in the air, in an absolute show of giving herself out to him. Her hand reached down for him, already naked and lustily he was raised into the air, purposefully giving him an unspeakably lewd aerial view of naked, wide open woman.
She left him there, hovering above her body to take her in fully in the moonlight. Mark could see her splayed tits, with nipples almost as long as his head sticking out of her massive mammaries. Her snatch was in full display, glistening with teeming, bubbling juices
“Look, Mark, I’m all yours… al that you see is yours to fuck”.
Then he was feet first inside her up to his chest, keeping eye contact while she kept her legs spread with her armpits on the back of her knees. His free hands took care of her clit and he had her squealing in no time. Soon after he was fucking her mouth as she laid down, offering herself anew. Not long after, they were on their way to their new life, across the desert.
Mark snapped out of his reverie just in time to show Becca around.
****
As soon as the tour of the house ended, Becca was climbing the scaffold, along with the camerawoman, to see the makeup girls at work. The photographer was already there. Zava had propped her chin against the top of the scaffold and the makeup crew were there, and by the looks of it, they had applied literally bucketfuls of base and were now working on her eyes.
Again, Becca found herself aghast when she was close to the giant woman’s face. If her eyes were intimidating seen from above, seeing them, or rather seeing it zeroing on her, as this close you could only look at one at a time, was daunting. Her eyes are bigger than my head! The fact that Zava was so breathtakingly beautiful made her only more formidable. Becca could see people worshiping her as a living goddess, she was that stunning, that overawing. But her personality was far from domineering. She seemed to be good-natured and easygoing. Becca had met her share of celebrities, male and female divas and by now she was quite at ease with Zava. She has not an ounce of conceit on her!
“How are the girls treating you, Zava?”
“Oh, it’s so nice having makeup pro’s around! I was never much good at makeup, to be sure, very minimalistic. I can’t wait to see myself!”
They applied eyeliner and blue eye shadow matching her dress. Then they powdered her nose, applied some subtle red on her cheekbones and then moved to her décolletage. Amused, Becca watched the makeup women strap climbing harnesses on and be helped by the sound engineers to secure safety ropes on Zava’s left thumb. Zava slid her gown shoulder straps aside to give the women room to work and then they climbed her hand with their gear and got to work, Zava moving them around her chest and neck as directed by the two clucking makeup artists making small talk with Zava as they worked with brushes as big as those used by people to paint houses.
The two women were completely dwarfed by Zava’s mountainous tits. Both of them could use her cleavage as a balcony, chuckled Becca to herself, looking in admiration at the twin, gigantic orbs. The photographer and camerawoman were having a field day, she also thought, glancing at the very busy image pros. Seeing the two women working on Zava’s vast chest Becca was sure they were getting images that would make the Globe view count skyrocket.
When the makeup session was finally over, they prepped Zava and Mark on the first takes they would shoot. They planned for a dramatic approach, Zava walking towards the camera with Mark in her hand, and then they filmed a mock-introduction with Becca, as the first time Zava did not have her makeup on. Then Becca had an idea…
“Could you pick me up, Zava?”
“Are you sure, Becca? I have been told that for you little people the experience can be unsettling”
“Well, I’m not afraid of heights”.