I walked out of my cabin onto the black plastic ground and took a deep breath. Thanks to an air freshener hanging above, the air smelled like pine trees here instead of bleach and Febreze like the rest of the apartment. Several trees made of wire and green plastic had been affixed around the cabin, itself built from toy logs and gravel, and if I looked closely at the cabin’s foundation I could see it was raised slightly, with looped masking tape holding it to the ground. Beyond the trees, I saw an enormous chair, its wooden posts stretching hundreds of feet into the sky, its seat tucked beneath a gigantic wooden table that looked like it could support a small town.
Mechanical whirring came from the ground, and a green light lit up in front of me. The surface lurched forward, and I stumbled back into the cabin wall. It continued moving at a steady speed, and I pushed off the wall so I could stand again. There was a deep crater in front of me, the nearest side a sheer drop to the bottom, and I navigated around it as I started walking. On the other side of the crater the plastic formed a thick ring, and I liked to stand atop it while it moved, imagining I was a sailor standing atop a ship’s prow.
When we first got the Roomba, I was scared of it. My body was not big enough to trigger its collision sensors, and when it inevitably hit me, I would be plowed down and drug beneath it. I was not sure what happened to dirt it picked up, but if I survived the impact I was sure to get a first-hand experience. Fulda’s answer was to build a house for me that could fit atop it and have me stay there while it made its weekly rounds. After all, she reasoned, it could not run me over if I stood on it.
It went straight underneath the table, bucking as it trundled over the rug’s fringe. I leaned forward to keep from being thrown back into the crater, then quickly corrected my posture when it leveled out. As it passed over the great blue sea, loud clicks came from the Roomba’s bowels each time it picked up a bit of dirt or tiny scrap of paper. Two broad fields beneath one of the chairs had been mashed down, showing the indentations where Fulda rested her feet. In general, I did not see why we needed such a long table if only one seat was usually filled, but I enjoyed the long stretch of shade.
The Roomba emerged from under the table and beneath a chair, the fake chimney of my toy cottage passing just beneath the chair’s horizontal support beam. Plastic clattered against wood when it left the rug, and I shifted my weight again to avoid getting knocked off. It showed no sign it even registered the change in terrain, continuing at the same, steady pace as it rolled toward the archway to the living room. Occasionally there was a thud when it picked up a stray piece of dirt, but the wood floors were normally kept spotless.
I felt the wind whipping through my hair and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. Without the strong smell of sea salt and sound of waves crashing against the hull it was difficult to immerse myself in the fantasy, but I made do with my imagination. It moved slower than a normal-sized person walking, as Fulda had demonstrated several times by stepping over it, but it was much quicker than I could move even at a sprint. The feel of wind whipping against my face and making my clothes billow was something I could not get anywhere else.
When I opened them again I was in the living room with a hulking figure squatting to the right. Fulda wore her usual black lo-top Converse shoes with socks hidden from view, and her tanned shins leaned forward like a pair of leaning towers. Her loose black skirt slid back over her muscular thighs, and a tight white T-shirt bearing the logo of one of her fitness supplement sponsors showcased her arms and chest. She held her phone so it blocked much of her face, but I could still see her cold blue eyes on either side of it. French braided auburn hair trailed down her back, and a broad, pearly white smile graced her face while she watched me.
“Wave to the camera, little guy!” she boomed. Due to our extreme size difference her voice sounded like a low rumble, closer to a large truck driving than human speech. At first it was terrifying and difficult to understand, but over time I got used to it, and even found it charming. I gave her a quick, enthusiastic wave, and she responded with a thumbs up. No doubt she was making another video to post on her social media. While I was not thrilled to have my tiny image broadcast for everyone to see, I recognized it was part of her hustle and played along with it.
She tracked me with her phone’s camera as the Roomba moved in front of her, and I tried to give the impression that I was, as she said, “just vibing.” Her accounts had a broad reach, and I wondered what sort of comments this one would gather. Although we had a brief ride of fame on news and talk shows as the giant woman and her tiny husband, there was a dedicated group that accused every video and picture of being fake. After that, there were people who inevitably thought this type of content was cute, and the worrying ones who wanted her to step on me. If they knew about her history, I imagined they would be satisfied for a lifetime.
Gears whirred inside as the Roomba continued forward, unerring in its path forward. I was heading toward the couch, and the whole structure rocked when it climbed onto a gray rug. It barreled ahead, shaking when it rolled off the rug on a firm course for the gap beneath the couch. The forward edge slid into the opening, and I ducked to keep from being brushed into the crater behind me. It was dark underneath, with much deeper shadows than the area beneath the table, and it felt like I was plunging into a mountain.
My toy cabin caught on the couch’s bottom, bringing the Roomba to a sudden halt. I was unprepared, and my momentum carried me over the Roomba’s front edge. Quickly I spun around and tried to grab on to the ledge, slapping my hands onto the top, and my hands started sliding over the smooth plastic. My fingers gripped onto the ledge, leaving me dangling off the side. Over the years I had needed to climb many objects, and I braced my legs to begin scrambling back up.
The Roomba jerked back to find a good path, yanking me away from the front edge. It came to a quick stop again, slamming me back against the rubber. My body was thrown sideways while it rotated, but my fingers kept their tight grip on the small ledge above. With a whirr the Roomba moved forward again, pressing me into the forward barrier, and I was thrown forward when it caught on my cabin again. Fortunately, my fingers maintained their solid grip even when I slammed back into the rubber ring running around it.
It found an unobstructed path and started rolling at a steady pace again, the movement pressing me against the hard rubber. I began pulling myself up, kicking the front to help myself along, and hoisted my body over the rim. When I stood and turned around, it felt like I was traversing a deep cavern. On my right were the great leather cliffs of the couch, and opposite that was a towering coffee table, its wooden ledge hanging over the cleared pathway. Half the Roomba was still on the rug, clattering as it picked up debris, making it move at a slight tilt.
I passed between a gigantic recliner and end table, the gap just wide enough to allow the Roomba through, and it leveled out with a thud. In the distance, a mighty colossus stood astride my route. Fulda had her feet spread shoulder width apart, giving the robot vacuum plenty of room to pass, and rested her hands on her hips, fingers spread. She looked down with a stolid expression on her chiseled face, following my movements toward her. It was a majestic sight, and though she did her best to look stern I knew she was thrilled, too.
Puffy laces came into view on either side, followed by hills of black canvas that rose above my head. The small bulges from Fulda’s ankles were at eye level for once, merely acting as the bases for the monolithic spires of her legs. I admired the sandy pillars as I passed between them, her smooth skin gleaming in the apartment’s bright lights. Her bulging calves were like rock formations, and her powerful thighs were monuments unto themselves. Far above, deep inside the draped fabric of her skirt, I spied her dark panties, their rear pulled tight over her taut, shapely butt.
Almost too soon I was through her legs on my way toward a white wall. A loud crash from behind startled me, and I spun around to find out what had caused it. Above my small toy cabin I saw a broad wall of rubber, the tip of a diamond chiseled in it just visible over the roof. In a brown and white blur it was gone, replaced by the tanned, gentle curve of Fulda’s shin. It hit the ground with a loud crack, landing with enough to make the floor shake. I felt it even on top of the Roomba, the power of its tremor traveling through my legs and making my knees weak.
Fulda slowly pursued me, keeping pace with my moving platform without overtaking it. Each of her steps was carefully measured to fall just short, the toe of her shoe missing the Roomba by fractions of an inch. Due to her long strides her steps were infrequent, but I felt the impact of every one of them. Her booming footfalls fell into a slow, pounding rhythm, each quake hitting just as I recovered from the previous one. The whole time she remained serious, doing her best to appear intimidating, though I knew that chasing me was one of her favorite games.
She raised a foot high, coiling her leg as tightly as it could get, and stepped over me. I traced its path with my eyes, watching the brown rubber sole arc through the air as she moved to stand astride me again. Her shoe landed in front of me, much gentler than her previous steps, and I found myself barreling toward her Achilles tendon. It was far enough away that I had a few seconds to prepare, and I braced for impacting her foot.
The Roomba struck Fulda’s heel, and despite my preparations I was still jolted forward. It immediately reversed direction, and I began wobbling to keep my footing. After a quick rotation it started moving again, and Fulda turned her feet sideways to create an immense obstacle. My vehicle had not turned nearly enough to avoid it and crashed into her instep. When it reversed, I finally lost my balance, tumbling into the smooth, rounded crater behind me.
By the time I stopped sliding down the slope it had gotten underway again. I crawled up the smooth plastic slope as I had often climbed to the top of Fulda’s foot, using my hands to give additional traction. In only a few seconds I was standing back on the prow, feeling the wind rush through my hair again. Now, however, I had a gigantic escort: Fulda walked beside the Roomba, her gait slowed to match its pace. She was not clumsily slapping her feet against the floor anymore, treating it instead like a gentle stroll with her husband.
I traveled over long wooden planks to the dark alcove outside of our bedroom. On one side was my house, the peak of its roof just visible from my elevated vantage point, and on the other was a tremendous door, its shiny brass knob embedded in the wood hundreds of feet above me. While only a big person like Fulda could open it, there was enough space at the bottom for me to slip through. On the occasions we needed time away from each other, I would crawl beneath the door and spend some time alone in my fully functional model house.
As I approached the wall, Fulda stooped over and reached an arm down toward me. Two of her fingers nestled on either side of me, their tips resting on the plastic, then gently pinched around my sides. Fulda plucked me from atop the Roomba just before it hit the wall, seemingly raising me hundreds of feet in just a second. Such intense acceleration should have been disorienting, but I had been tossed about by giantesses for years, sometimes literally thrown back and forth between them. By the time I reached her face, the only lasting effect of undergoing such extreme velocity was a sense of mild discomfort.
“So, are you still afraid of the Roomba?” she asked, her booming voice making my bones tremble. Her lips were pulled to one side in a smirk, and her eyes brimmed with amusement. She found it hilarious that I was scared of a large mechanical contraption that moved unstoppably over the floor, while I thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to be worried about.
“Well yeah, kind of,” I answered. “That thing’s gigantic, and it wouldn’t stop if it hit me. It’d just crush me.”
“Aw, poor baby!” Fulda boomed, forcing herself to pout. “I would never let that thing crush you!” Her fingers drew me toward her lips and pushed me into the soft tissue, her puckered lips engulfing the whole front of my body. Fulda held me there for several seconds, giving me a gigantic kiss, before pulling me away with a loud smack. “If anything gets to crush you, it’ll be me.” She gave a quick wink before turning around, making the room spin around her.
“Why don’t you think of it as your own personal hovercraft?” she asked, walking back into the living room. “Hovercraft are still cool, and you get a free ride on one every week!”
“I don’t know, it could still easily run me over.”
“We’re keeping the Roomba” Fulda insisted, much more forceful this time. “I’ll make sure you’re safely off the floor where it can’t hurt you before it starts moving, does that work? I mean, unless you want to help me explain to a housekeeper why there’s a tiny man living in my apartment.”
“No, the Roomba’s fine,” I quickly agreed. Few people remembered our time in the limelight, and even fewer associated those interviews with us. They were often shocked to see Fulda in person, and when she opened her hand to reveal me they nearly fainted.
“That’s what I thought.” Fulda grinned, her confidence growing from another victory, and moved toward the couch. I settled in for another quiet night of her reading while I played on her legs.