Giantess Stories: Homo Sum by DX Machina

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Homo Sum

by DX Machina "I am human. Therefore, nothing human is alien to me."

--Terence(185-159 BCE)

The man ate the last of the potato chip, and stewed silently.

He did most things silently, to tell the truth. His was a silent existence, and

had been for almost two years. Ever since the experiment went so terribly awry,

that rainy August night.

He was a man, though, although his life had diverged from the rest of humanity.

In form and function, absent context, he appeared to be what he should have

been: a twenty-six year old man, naked and wild, but recognizably a modern

human. He furrowed his eyebrows in a most human way.

He was vexed. He was out of food.

He was one-sixth of an inch tall.

He rarely thought of his previous life, the life where his name had been Jacob,

where he had been a graduate assistant in the theoretical physics department.

Where he had gained an internship through the Department of Defense. Where he

had been struck by the beam from the device, and had run from the men in the

army, and stumbled, shrinking and scared, into the rickety old apartment he

inhabited now.

That was the life of a human. Now, his life was that of an insect.

* * *

In retrospect, it was providence that had led him here. The house was rented by

three grad students, guys with the cleaning habits of, well, guys. There had had

never been a problem acquiring food. In the early days, parties had been a

problem, but the man had long since made his way into the walls, building an

apartment for himself in the wall between the living room and the dining room.

After creating his refuge, almost any event became a respite from the tedium of

searching for food, trying to survive. The guys even had good taste in movies

and music.

But they were grad students, and eventually, they graduated. That was a month

ago. They hung around another month after that, but they finally moved out over

the Fourth of July weekend.

The man did prepare. He knew the guys were moving out, and he stockpiled

everything he could find. He had stashed a month's worth of food in the wall,

and that month had now passed. The man had watched as the landlady showed the

place a few times, but he did not know when new tenants would come.

The man had finished his potato chip, and he thought. He knew that he could live

for a few days without food. He did have access to water. He also knew that the

world outside the apartment was over four hundred times as large as he was.

He would have to leave eventually. But not for a week. He would give it a week

before he fled.

As the night fell, he curled up in a bit of fluff, and slept.

* * *

He only had to wait overnight. The sound of footsteps came through the wall,

clear as day.

He could hear through the wall, but he couldn't identify the sounds exactly. The

wall muffled and distorted voices that were already somewhat distorted to his

tiny ears. He started up his ramp, towards his living room lookout.

The lookout was just a tiny nail-hole, about four feet up, but it was a hole

large enough for him to squeeze through. It took him about an hour to crawl up

the ramp, ladder, and string system he had built for himself. He climbed about

three feet-about a quarter of a mile. Finally, he reached the space.

There was nobody in the room. This was unsurprising; he had heard the voices and

feet go away a few minutes before; back out to the car for more stuff, no doubt.

It was somewhat nicer furniture than before, but still college-student poor. He

had secretly been hoping that the family that had come through would rent the

house; they had two young kids, who (the man felt sure) would be sufficiently

messy to keep him fed.

He heard a noise coming from the doorway, and turned, and saw his first new

roommate.

She strode through the entrance, holding a large box at her chest. She seemed

impossibly tall at first, then, as the context of the situation became apparent,

it was clear she was fairly petite, just over five feet, with short, soft blonde

hair that fell neatly. She walked directly towards the man's hiding spot, and

bent over deliciously to put the box down.

He stared straight into the top of her head. The soft scent of melon--her

shampoo--nearly knocked him over, or would have, had he not been lying prone. As

she rose, he saw her blue eyes, her petite button nose, her mouth, her chin, her

breasts....

He turned suddenly, breathing heavily. He was unsure what to think. Half of him

was thinking, "Damn it, it's girls. They'll be neat. This'll make it hard."

The other half of him was thinking something he rarely, if ever, allowed himself

to think about.

He turned back in time to see her walking away from him, her tight, toned behind

making seductive figure eights as she walked towards--another. Another woman,

this one tall, with shoulder-lenght red hair.

This one was athletic to the blonde's curvy, but they were both phenomenally

attractive.

Then a third, this one a little shorter than the redhead, with long brown hair

and glasses, maybe a little less attractive than the others, but still quite

nice looking.

He watched.

The part of him that worried about food was banished into the background.

* * *

That night was a good one for the man, made better when the girls ordered pizza.

They were sitting on the floor, all four of them, though they would never have

noticed him. He was standing a respectful distance away--about three of their

feet. He was taking no chances, of course, he rested against a baseboard. He

knew for sure that one false move by any of the three and he would die, unless

he was proactive.

The man stayed alive by being proactive.

"SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?" said the blonde--Julie. She was bubbly, and almost

unconsciously sexy, and she was wearing short shorts and a t-shirt that showed

off her assets nicely. She sat about five feet from him, his view was of her

left foot.

"IT'S A NICE PLACE. I JUST HOPE THE HEAT DOESN'T COST US TOO MUCH." Jane said

that. The brunette was sitting across the box of pizza from him.

"I DON'T THINK IT WILL. I LIKE IT." Those wordes were voiced by Kate, the

redhead. The man swallowed hard. His view was of her ass, which was currently in

tight jeans, resting on her feet that were folded beneath her.

As the girls finished, they said that words that cemented their unwitting bond

with him.

"SHOULD WE THROW THE BOX AWAY?" asked Jane.

"NAH. LEAVE IT FOR TOMORROW," replied Julie.

It was like an earthquake as the three stood and started off towards their

bedrooms. Bare feet slid by him, anchoring half-mile-tall beauties as they left

him in darkness.

He pulled himself up into the box. It was bereft of pizza, but there was enough

scraps of cheese and sauce and olive to feed him for years.

If these girls were going to be messy, he was going to love them.

* * *

The next day, the man slept.

He had worked all night, salvaging as much pizza crust as he could. He knew he

could not count on the girls to be messy, he knew he would have to be more

rigorous about having food always on hand. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the

world. It was just something he'd have to deal with.

He dreamt.

* * *

Dreams are the refuge of the thoughts we push away. The man's dreams were of the

night he came here. He saw the device, saw the technicians run away as sparks

flew, felt himself again push her--Debbie, his girlfriend--out of the way as the

beam struck him, full in the chest, felt his stomach churn as the world

distorted, knew that the smiling General who said "we just need to study you,

Jake, you could be the prototype, yes sir, you could work for the CIA" was not

trustworthy, so he ran, ran, ran as he saw the world grow and grow and grow

And he came to this place, his home, he was just six inches tall now and the

back door was open, there was a party going on, and he hid behind the keg and

watched as the drunk guys hit on the drunk girls and watched as they kept

growing, growing, until even the soles of their shoes towered over him

And then he saw the shoe heading for him, belonging to a beautiful girl whose

name escaped him, she didn't know he was there, he was screaming, and the shoe

just missed him and the wind blew him into the corner....

And he woke up.

* * *

It was about 6:30 at night. The sound of 'N Sync drifted through the walls. He

shook his head. He hated dreaming about the past. For him, there was no past,

there was no future, there was only now.

He ate a bit of cheese--it wouldn't keep, he knew, so he ate it first. Then, he

snuck down to the Christmas-tree bulb that lit his apartment and turned it on.

It had been dangerous work, his illumination scheme, but he had successfully

tapped into the main power for the house, and he had a tiny bit of light, which

made him feel a little bit more human.

After cleaning for a while, he decided some exploring was in order. He grabbed

some supplies--a tiny speck of crust, a drop of water--doused the light and

exited his abode.

The entrance was under the baseboard--it was wide but not tall, it would likely

never be seen, even if the baseboard was ripped off. He stepped out and looked

around.

He exited into the dining room, which was currently empty. The sound of music

came from the living room. He decided that he wanted to see a bedroom.

He rationalized this by thinking that if the furniture was going to be

rearranged, he should know where the good hiding places were.

He would never admit that he wanted to see where they slept, to be in their

presence at night and feel, if only for a moment, like he was theirs and they

were his.

He headed for the first bedroom. It made sense to do this--he wouldn't have to

make any crossings, he could simply walk along the baseboard to the door.

It was a journey he had made a few times, to break up the monotony of trying to

scratch out a living. He snuck along the baseboard, behind a cabinet and a

little dorm fridge that the girls had placed in the room. It was a good hour's

walk to the hall, and then another quarter mile or so to the doorway of the

first bedroom.

The room was dark as he reached it, save for the light that trickled in from the

rest of the house. He walked to the base of a dresser the size of a small

mountain, and looked at the immense room. It was decorated tastefully, if not

extravagantly. There was a throwrug in the middle of the floor, covering the

wood floor beneath. It led to the bed, a nice, full-sized bed, and a white wood

nightstand.

The man looked upon the room, and decided to see a bit more of it.

The walk to the nightstand was easy, as was the ascent via the cord to her

electric clock. There were a few salutary effects to the shrinking process. He

was faster, stronger, and more durable than ever--at least by scale.

He looked around the table. Nothing exciting to report--

Suddenly, he was blinded by light. His first instinct was to run, but he

realized that he was small enough that he would likely not be noticed. He did

walk briskly to the side of the alarm clock, and looked back at the door.

It was Julie--the blonde--wearing shorts and a college t-shirt. She set a

backpack down and closed the door behind her.

He tried to guess her age. 19? 20? She wasn't a freshman. Maybe a sophomore. He

figured he could tell by what books she had. He thought he might look more

tonight, when something happened he was unprepared for.

Julie looked both ways, then locked the door. In one quick moment, she kicked

off her shoes, pulled off her shirt and shorts, unfastened her bra and pulled

off her panties.

The man's jaw dropped. He had thought her to be sexy, but my God, she had a

nearly flawless physique.

She walked towards the bed, and sat down on it, facing him. She reached toward

the nightstand, and pulled open a drawer. The entire stand shook with the

effort, and he was knocked down. He lifted his head and saw that she had removed

from said drawer a rubber cylynder, about two hundred feet long, and carefully

inserted it--

Oh, God.

Her pussy was just below eye level, but it was there, just a football field

away, billboard-sized. She probed it gently, carefully, and to great effect. It

took her just a few minutes to finish, and then she carefully wiped the

cylynder, placed it back into the drawer, rose, and put on a terry-cloth robe

before leaving.

The man's mouth was dry, his lungs heaving. He realized he had joined her in her

fun only as he was coming. He considered, and decided to remain on the

nightstand.

* * *

It was about three in the morning, and the only light came from the red numbers

of the clock. The light played across Julie's face as she slept, looking

peaceful and content.

The man looked upon her face, feeling a longing he had not felt in too long. She

was beautiful, but it was more than that. He was starting to remember everything

that he had lost in one computer error, one misfire on the device.

He knew tomorrow would mark a return to the routine. He knew that he was below

this beautiful woman's radar--even if he wanted to try to establish a

connection, how would he? How could he?

It was impossible.

So he didn't torture himself with the details. He had no past. He had no future.

But he had now.

* * *

The next few weeks passed.

The girls were not very messy, but that wasn't a problem, he soon realized. At

his size, even a stray crumb from a sandwich was a feast. He had gotten soft and

lazy with the guys, he realized. He could make do with much less.

That thought buoyed him. He knew now that this apartment could be his home until

it was torn down. And with luck, that day was long in the future. As long as

someone lived here, he could manage.

He had returned to his earlier routine--mostly, anyhow. He still gathered food

and water when he had to, still stayed to the baseboards, still did what he had

to do to stay alive.

But there was a change to the routine.

He tried to get to her bedroom as often as he could, and he had learned quite a

bit about her. She was a junior, twenty years old. She was also--well, how to

put it delicately--a slut.

He really didn't mind. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to satisfy her.

And he found he was still aroused when she brought a guy back from a party. He

saw himself with her, in the person of the titanic man. He would watch from the

nightstand, or the safety of the dresser, as the two bodies intertwined, and he

would think of how life could be.

Still, he found an idea crawiling around inside his head. It was a foolish,

stupid, dangerous idea. He had stayed alive this long by not giving in to

foolish ideas.

But he couldn't clear it from his head, no matter how he tried. So one night, he

decided to see what would happen.

It was a Wednesday, and he knew she would get home late. Still, as he stood on

the precipice of the nightstand, he felt nervous. This could be deadly, he knew.

Was it worth it to risk his life for this?

He looked at the unmade bed. Her scent wafted from it, ever-so-softly, probably

too softly for anyone larger than him to notice. As he leapt, he knew--this was

why he'd bothered to stay alive so long.

* * *

It was still a good half mile walk to the place where the sheets and blankets

were bunched up. He hoped his plan would work.

He also, belatedly, hoped there wasn't a guy with her.

At 9:45, she entered, mercifully alone. He was quivering with anticipation. He

looked at her intently. She was wearing a short skirt with knee-high socks, and

a plain white blouse.

It took her about two hours to complete her reading for the night. She left to

use the restroom, then returned to the room, and locked the door.

She undressed quickly. She looked at the nightstand for half a second, as if

considering something. She shook her head slightly, then turned off the light.

The room was dark for only a moment, until she turned the light on the

nightstand on. Then, without hesitation, she got into bed.

The man watched this all. He had grown more used to her naked body, but it still

was an awesome sight. The woman, the size of a mountain, sat down with her back

to him. She scooted unconsciously backward, shaking the bed and knocking him to

his knees. He quickly righted himself, and stood and grabbed at the sheet as she

swung her left leg over him.

He could see his goal a few hundred yards distant, but he knew better than to

try to reach it. He would stick to his plan.

She sat up, and grabbed the blanket on either side of him, and pulled.

He was whisked northward at tremendous speed. He held on with all his might as

her knee, then her thigh,then her stomach whizzed past him. He released his grip

just in time to fly into the southern part of her left breast.

He fell a good hundred feet to her chest. He struggled for a minute to regain

his breath. He felt the bruises healing themselves quickly.

All was darkness. The blanket was pulled up to her chin. He would have to be

quick, he knew. He turned and felt her breast furtively, then pushed off and

jogged. It was an eighth of a mile to his destination.

* * *

It wasn't an easy journey, even though he could jog it in about two minutes.

Fortunately, she never rolled over, but each adjustment of her body caused him

to fall. It was like being in an unending earthquake. As he passed her belly

button, he wondered if he was stupid, or just crazy.

But not far after that, he caught a scent that pulled him on, until he found

himself in a forest of light hair.

It had been a long time since he had seen one of these this close. He reached

his destination, and felt the thick walls surrounding his goal. He held on to

one side and slowly, carefully, lowered himself to it.

As his feet touched it, he felt a tremor unlike any he had felt so far. It was

at once softer and more urgent than any adjustment she had made yet. It was

larger than he was, almost twice his size, and he didn't know how to start, so

he simply laid his body out upon it, and pushed hard against it.

It quivered with delight. So did he. He began to thrust against it, as hard as

he could. He felt the world around him begin to shake, but he was damned if he

was going to stop. He felt himself moving towards climax, and he thought he

could hear something happening deep inside him.

Then, suddenly, the world went crazy. The limited space he had became much

larger as titanic fingers spread the walls around him apart. He came just as the

world tilted slightly upward.

He tried to hold on, but the clitoris was slick with her natural lubricant. He

fell towards the earth....

The timing could not have been better. A twenty-foot-long wall of flesh caught

him and forced him deep into the recesses of her pussy. It was, he realized

quickly, her index finger. She pushed him deep up into herself, then withdrew

the finger, then pushed in again, until a torrent of fluid rushed around him,

washing him out to her outer lips.

He was sticky, but he was happy. Unfortunately, he was stickier than he had

realized. He crawled out of her vagina and got about five feet into her bush

when he found himself unable to move any further. He managed to roll himself

over before the come hardened. He lay prone against her back, looking up at the

blanket.

He lay there long after the lights went out and she fell asleep. He knew that

when morning came, she would probably shower, and that would be all for him. He

would probably die.

But as he contemplated death, he knew one thing--no matter what happened, this

had been worth it.

* * *

The man awoke.

Something was not quite right, he noticed.

He was hanging upside down. That wasn't right.

He was looking at a series of interwoven threads. The sheets.

Julie must be sleeping on her stomach, he thought. He tried to wrap his brain

around the events of last night. Had he really...?

Suddenly, the world stirred. In a blur, the entire fabric of reality seemed to

bend and stretch as Julie got up and out of bed.

The man was terrified. And stuck fast against her nether region.

He feared the shower. He knew he was likely to be washed away forever. He waited

for Julie to put on her terrycloth robe, and head towards his execution chamber.

Instead, she slipped on a pair of panties.

He was so surprised by this that it took him a few minutes to recognize it. She

wasn't going to shower.

No, she was going to run.

* * *

After the first mile, the man began to think the shower would've been

preferable.

The universe was bouncing up and down, up and down, as Julie covered the blocks

around her house. He had no time to ruminate about the fact that he was outside

the apartment for the first time in years. He was too busy trying not to vomit.

Then, it happened. As Julie ran, she began to sweat. Just a little at first,

then more and more. The sweat ran down over him, slowly eating away at the bond

that held him fast to her. Without warning, he slid off of her skin and down

onto her panties.

He was staring up at her vagina as titanic thighs pumped all around him. He had

no idea what the best move to make was. It seemed to him he should try not to

die.

After a few more miles, Julie returned home, jogged up the steps, and headed

inside. She walked into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and got into the

shower.

To the man, it seemed as if the floor dropped out from under him as she slid the

panties down around her ankles. It took him a few minutes to gather himself,

before he sprinted out of the sweat-soaked clothes to the baseboard.

Not even Julie stepping out of the shower could distract him from seeking

shelter. He knew for a fact that he was tremendously lucky to be alive.

As she gathered her things and headed back to her room, the man sighed, and

slumped against the wall.

And then, he began to laugh. The laugh of a man who is truly living.

* * *

The following few weeks were much less exciting. After risking death for a bit

of pussy, the man was a bit leery about trying it again.

Though it was fun.

Indeed, he thought one Friday afternoon as he cleaned his apartment, it was more

fun than he had had in all the time since the accident.

He began the slow climb up to the lookout. His early fascination with Julie was

beginning to wane. After all, it was the weekend, and if she came home at all it

would be with a guy. Not that he begrudged her that--heck, it wasn't like they

had anything between them.

They'd just had a casual fling, he thought to himself, chuckling at the notion.

He was beginning to think about looking in on Kate. Perhaps he would.

He reached the lookout at about four-thirty. The living room was empty, for the

moment.

He laid down and looked out over the vista that was the living room. He could

feel something in the back of his mind, something big.

Well, everything was big. But this was bigger than usual.

He lay there for about twenty minutes before he heard the grind of the door. He

looked toward the entryway to see who had made it home first. He guessed it

would be Kate.

Instead, it was Jane, home early for a Friday. And someone else.

She was younger--he could see that clearly, she was probably between sixteen and

eighteen, with shoulder-length black hair, a relatively small bust and a wasp

waist. She turned slightly, and the resemblence was obvious.

Jane's sister. Her little sister Tanya. He had heard the girls talking about her

earlier in the week. She was a senior, and considering coming here for school.

Before he could adequately process this information, Kate came bounding into the

room, with her own visitor in tow. The second new person was petite, but with an

attractive bust and a naturally slender body.

"HEY, JANIE. THIS IS MY FRIEND FROM CAROLINA, LINDSAY!" exclaimed the tall

redhead. She was beaming. Why was she beaming?

"NICE TO MEET YOU," replied Jane, "THIS IS MY SISTER, TANYA."

At that moment, Julie entered the room and there were introductions all around

again. And a voice, still and small, one that--if you could hear it at

all--sounded like it hadn't been used in a year--which it hadn't.

"hello," it rasped. "my name is jake."

* * *

Jake was quite sure this was stupid, but he reminded himself that the unexamined

life was not worth living. Furthermore, he thought to himself, it wasn't like

the life he had been living was so great that he needed to cling to it at all

costs. He had lived the life of a very successful insect thus far, but he wasn't

an insect, he was a man.

And a man has needs, damn it.

So he had climbed up the fabric of the couch, and was currently sequestered

between two of the cushions, deep in the recesses of the furniture. He had

decided to try--emphasize "try"--to have a couple of flings this weekend with

people he wouldn't see again for a while. Tanya would be first, because she was

bunking on the couch tonight, which was, all things considered, easier to reach.

If he could manage it--and he would see how things worked out--he would track

down Lindsay tomorrow.

For the moment, he waited as the clock ticked down towards everyone's return. He

felt sure that they had taken their guests to a party somewhere. It's what he

would've done.

Finally, the door swung open, and the unmistakable sound of five drunk

half-mile-tall girls came wafting through the air. He braced as Tanya, drunk as

she could be, sat heavily down on the cushion to his left. The entire couch

trembled with her awesome weight. He looked up at the right corner of her

derriere, which, he could see, was in a short, black skirt that led straight to

bare legs. He decided there was no time like the present, and began to ascend

the cushion.

Once on top, he walked quickly and carefully along her thigh, which was easier

said than done, as the cushion was sinking in under her. He reached the edge of

the skirt presently, and was pleased to see her sitting with her legs slightly

akimbo. He looked out over the room to see that all five girls were still up; he

would get in position, then wait until she was ready for bed.

He walked boldly under her knee, and then began the assault on her center. He

was grateful to reach it before she crossed her legs, which she did just as he

began to pull himself inside the cotton panties.

The adjustment actually helped him get inside quicker, though it would block any

ascent he could make. Still, he was inside, and he drank in the smell of her

youth. He touched her skin gently. When her legs uncrossed, he began to climb.

He was wiser this time. He hoped to get her just aroused--not to get her to the

point that she would feel obligated to finish the job. He pulled himself inside,

and marveled that her clitoris was different than Julie's. He wondered what

Jane's looked like. He'd have to find out.

After a few minutes of rubbing and stroking, he got the reaction that he was

hoping for, and then some. These were tiny quakes compared with Julie's volcanic

tremors, but he heard the rush of fluid beneath him just the same.

He smiled as he came. It seemed he could still have an effect--albeit small--on

women.

He was about to climb out when suddenly, Tanya stood up.

Jake was unprepared for the motion, and fell precipitously into her panties. He

tried to right himself, but she was walking with some speed.

A few moments later, there was some brief light as she pulled her panties--and

him--off. But that light was short-lived, as she crumpled the spent article into

a ball and tossed it into a plastic bag in her backpack. Before Jake could

react, a blouse, a skirt, a bra, and a pair of socks rained down over him, and

the backpack was zipped up.

The world moved violently as she picked up the pack and returned to the living

room. She would be asleep in a few minutes.

Jake struggled upwards. He may not be able to get out of the backpack tonight,

but he didn't want to be stuck in her dirty clothes bag. He managed to escape

the plastic sack in about two hours, and then he fell, tired and spent, into a

soft something. He didn't know or care what. He just wanted to sleep.

As he drifted off, he reflected that it was hard work for him, making time with

the ladies.

But so, so worth it.

* * *

He felt the movement of the bag, but he didn't really start to wake up until he

heard the shower stop.

He stretched, and tried to figure out by the dim light shining through the

zipper just where he was.

Jake didn't have to wait long before a wet Tanya unzipped the bag and reached

for him.

He boggled for a moment, before he realized that she was reaching, not for him,

but for the article of clothing he was on. He looked around to figure out what

it was, but before he could he was lifted up into the air.

Suddenly, he saw her naked left breast rushing towards him. The fabric behind

him was pulled tight, and he dropped onto her soft nipple. He heard the rush of

other clothing being pulled on over Tanya's bra, which he was undoubtedly

trapped inside.

The world tilted up, and down, and up again as she dressed. But nothing could

prepare him for when she began to walk.

It was a slow, steady undulation, actually kind of pleasant in its monstrousity.

Still, he thought, as he tried to find a handhold on her slightly harder nipple,

this was going to be a long day.

* * *

Men spend years trying to get a hold of women's breasts. They are strange,

beautiful things, infinitely varied, delightful to the touch, fun for the whole

family.

If men spent more time strapped to the front of women's breasts, they'd spend

less time lusting after them.

Jake had lost all track of time. It seemed like days since Tanya had strapped

him in. He had been clinging to her left nipple for dear life, as each step

brought a veritable earthquake of undulation. Tanya was fairly well endowed.

Jake was starting to gain an appreciation for flat women.

He couldn't see much. There was just a small amount of diffuse light that

reached him here. And he could hear one thing, over and over and over: The

steady thump of Tanya's heart. Quick and fast while walking, slow and steady

during those blessed moments they rested.

He could hear little that didn't originate with his host. He gathered that at

some point they'd gone to the mall, and later on to lunch. He was hoping against

hope they'd go home soon.

* * *

They did go home, after a while, and for a few minutes, he had hope that he may

escape to safety.

They were back in the bathroom, where he had been imprisoned almost ten hours

before. He had heard Tanya do her business, and he had also heard her one side

of a discussion about some sort of party; he lacked details, but he wasn't

worried about it. Any party, anywhere was a place he wanted to avoid right now.

It was hot enough under satin and padding and cotton without the

seventeen-year-old bundle of hormones that wore it getting hot and bothered and

drunk.

He was stewing on how bad the situation had gotten that he didn't realize what

what happening when Tanya removed her shirt, and he definitely was unprepared

when she removed her bra. He suddenly felt the wall behind him give way, and he

clawed desperately at Tanya's nipple, only to find that she was leaning forward.

He dropped precipitously, and landed with a wumpf! amid forty-foot-long spikes

and long yellow vines.

Jake groaned. He had snapped a few ribs, as well as his leg. He knew to lie

still. It would take about five minutes for the bones to knit themselves. In the

meantime, all he could do is stare up at the half-naked form of Tanya, who was

now putting on a lacy black bra to replace the more functional white one that

had been his prison.

After a minute or so, Tanya pulled on a slinky black dress, and after checking

herself in the mirror, turned and left. Jake winced a little, but began to pull

himself up onto one arm. It was best he get going.

He didn't get going fast enough. Just moments after Tanya departed, Julie

appeared, wearing a tight red dress that showed off her considerable assets.

Jake looked at her from crotch level, and whistled softly. She was definitely

going to get some action in that outfit. It looked like she was going to give

herself a quick once-over....

Suddenly, Jake looked around him anew. He had been so focused on the pain of his

fall that he hadn't looked carefully at where he was. Now, it was clear--he was

on Julie's hairbrush.

He started to call out too late as the lovely titaness grabbed the brush. It was

all he could do to hold on as she began moving the brush violently through her

short-coiffed hairdo.

Miles of melon-scented vines moved by at mach 3, as Julie teased and styled her

hair to the best of her ability. It wasn't long before Jake was thrown into a

mass of styling on the top of her head. He tried in vain to stand up, then

decided that his best bet was to try to stay put, rather than get swept by the

brush into oblivion.

Suddenly, Jake was caught full-force by a gust of air and liquid. He was blown

through Julie's hair to the very front of her bangs before he managed to grab

onto a hair. He instantly regretted it, as he realized that both he and the hair

were covered in hairspray. And not just any hairspray, but the super-hold type

stuff. If Julie's come had caused him to stick to her, the hairspray paralyzed

him. He was stuck fast, looking forward over the upcrest of a tiny spike in her

hairdo. He could see her starting to put on her mascara. He tried in vain to

find himself among the vast prairie of her head.

He watched, awe-struck, at the half-mile tall beauty he sat perched atop

finished applying her makeup. Then, with a wink at the mirror, she turned, and

began to walk.

Jake winced anew as the wind buffeted him. He felt the hair he was on sway,

while the head the hair was attatched to moved up and down, back and forth, left

and right.

And they were just walking.

He began to miss Tanya's bra.

* * *

One thing he was finally getting plenty of was fresh air.

The three roommates and two guests walked up to the door of the Sigma Chi house.

It was, he recalled, a pretty fun place on the weekend. Good parties, pretty

low-key--not too many of the guys who think all women want to fuck them. He had

a buddy who was a Sigma Chi. He'd spent some time here in his misspent youth.

He knew the five would have no trouble getting in. After all, they each had at

least one breast, which was all it really took to get into a frat party. They

walked into the main room, and Julie stopped just long enough to give him a good

view.

He boggled. He had seen a few parties that the guys had thrown, but this was by

far the biggest group of people he had ever seen. Dozens of gods and goddesses

were packed into the room, dancing to Limp Bizkit's "Nookie", which was turned

up loud enough to cause damage to small, low-flying aircraft. They pushed on

through the crowd towards the keg, stopping now and then to say hi to people.

Jake began to gain an appreciation for scale. To him, of course, everyone was

enormous, but there were levels of enormity that he was unaware of most of the

time. It soon became clear that, as Julie made the rounds, she was really quite

short--probably only five feet tall. He stared straight into the maw of most of

the girls Julie chatted with, which, after the third time he had

"!!!HOW!!!ARE!!!YOU!!!DOING!!!!!!" screamed into his face lost its luster. He

stared at the Adam's apple of the guys.

He was scared, but he was also fascinated. It was strange, watching a party from

a girl's perspective. Oh, it sucked when Julie started dancing to "Ice Ice

Baby," but still and all, it was a fun experience. He just wished he wasn't

immobilized.

It took about an hour for Julie to find the guy she was going to get it on with.

He was familiar to Jake--a big guy, muscular and handsome, who Julie was

presently sucking face with. This, too, was an experience, though Jake could

have done without his beery breath cascading down over his vista.

The two broke their liplock to head for the makeout rooms upstairs. This guy

must be a brother, thought Jake, as they headed across the packed dance floor

towards the stairs. He looked forward with a bit of dread to what he knew from

prior experience would consist of Julie blowing this guy. He didn't want to see

some guy's hairy stomach--or worse.

Fortunately for Jake, serendipity was on his side. As they stumbled across the

dance floor, Julie bumped into a guy carrying beers. He did well--he spilled

just a drop or two. But one of those drops struck Jake's position precisely,

instantly melting away his bonds.

For the second time in three hours, Jake found himself tumbling headfirst into

oblivion. And he knew in an instant he was in big trouble. He was at least a

mile from his house, and at his size, that may as well be a light year.

He tumbled head-over-heels towards the ground, only to find himself suddenly

being swept upwards by a passing air current. He knew, of course, that he was

small enough to be blown about--it had happened before a few times--but he was

caught off guard by his sudden upward tack. He blew high up over the revelers,

then began to fall again. He was falling rapidly towards a petite, black-haired,

jeans-clad woman.

"lindsay!" he cried out as he hurtled towards the fly of her jeans. He lunged at

the last minute, catching the key of the zipper with his stomach. He grasped at

the zipper for his life, trying to ignore the motion of the enormous hips

enclosed by it.

After a moment, he began to try to climb ever-so-slowly towards the slight

opening between fly and button. After about fifteen minutes, he reached it, and

pulled himself inside. He leapt for the panties, secure in the belief that he

needed to get inside, get as enclosed from the party as he could, so that he

could get home.

He grasped at the worp and weave of the fabric, smelling the familiar,

sweet-pungent aroma from behind the cotton barrier. He crawled slowly towards

the elastic boundary, acutely aware that there was precious little room for

error. If he misjudged, he'd tumble down Lindsay's pant leg and out onto the

floor of the Sigma Chi house.

He reached the barrier, and with his last ounce of energy, pulled himself

through. Sweat and something else gave the atmosphere a heady aroma. He fell,

limply, to the bottom of the panties. He hoped she wouldn't sit down soon.

* * *

A few hours later, they were heading somewhere.

The heat of the party had given way to a cooler evening. But the arousal level

of Lindsay was increasing, slowly. Jake knew this because his own, considerable

arousal level was increasing at a commensurate level. He could hear someone else

through the cotton and denim. He hoped Lindsay was dragging him back to Kate's

place.

He had to stay with her. He had to get home.

A few minutes later, and the world began to roll around. The squeaking and

creaking of bedsprings was evident. Jake clung tightly to a hair of her bush,

just north of her clitoris. He heard the rustle of her jeans coming off, saw

light streaming through the turquoise panties Lindsay wore. He wondered,

belatedly, if he should make a break for it, when the sky above him was ripped

away to reveal the face of Lindsay's date.

He saw an enormous green eye, then a bit of red hair, which was tossed aside by

a tremendous hand. He looked at the face, and suddenly, he recognized its owner.

Kate.

The lights went out.

* * *

About an hour in, Jake was wondering to himself whether to compare it to an

earthquake at the Playboy mansion, or a giant alien destruction-slash-pleasure

machine, or maybe just what it was--two half-mile tall lesbians getting it on in

a serious way, with him at ground zero.

No matter what it was, he was having a tremendous amount of fun, despite the

three times in the last hour that he'd been within inches of death.

They say there are three primary drives that all creatures seek.

The first is food. Hunger is the most basic need.

The second is shelter. Without shelter, the elements will tear a being to shreds

without a care.

The third may not be as necessary as the other two, but the pursuit of it has

inspired everything humanity has ever done.

Jake was dancing on the razor's edge, and he hadn't ever felt more alive, nor

more fulfilled.

* * *

About an hour before, the lights had gone out and Jake did what his instincts

told him to. He ran.

That is to say, he tried to run. But as he started to clamber up the outside of

Lindsay's vagina, she began shifting and moving in rythm with her lover, and the

whole world seemed bathed in sweat. He couldn't get a grip, and instead slipped

and slid, directly into a sinkhole full of flesh.

The scent was overwhelming--it felt like it engulfed him, as he felt the heat

and moisture from the cauldron below. He was starting to get his eyesight back.

An enormous, remarkably taut stomach hung suspended like heaven itself above

him. She must be working on her breasts, he thought with remarkable clarity.

He watched the stomach moving slowly but inexorably across his sky, watched as

the sky drew nearer, as stomach gave way to small, firm breasts, and as the

breasts gave way to a tangle of hair and a tongue.

It started all around him. The soccer pitch-sized muscle flitting and touching

and slobbering all over the thighs of his hostess. He tried again to struggle

free, but he knew it was futile. Nowhere was safe anyhow. It didn't surprise him

at all when the tongue started a hundred feet below him, swept quickly upward,

and engulfed him.

He was quickly plunged into the darkness of the mouth of Kate.

The entire world smelled vaguely of cinnamon schnapps--Goldschlager, he thought,

oddly disconnected from his plight. It was hot and wet in a way that was

altogether different than milliseconds before had been hot and wet. He knew

instinctively that his best bet was not to struggle or try to move. He was the

size of dust. Hopefully, like a bit of hair or dust, he would stick to Kate's

tongue until something removed him.

The world instantly was light--well, dimly light--again. The spread pussy of

Lindsay loomed ahead. Tongue and Jake plunged in together.

Again it was dark, and sultry, and, well, Goddamn fucking erotic. He felt

himself coming, which was trivial compared to the amount of lubrication that

Lindsay was churning out, not to mention the saliva that Kate was generating.

The tongue slid along slippery walls, and instantly, he was freed--if one can be

said to be free when one is sixty feet deep into the pussy of a 2600-foot-tall

woman.

The amount of estrogen coursing through the veins of Lindsay would've been

enough to save a trillion women from the pain of menopause. The sound of her

pulse was everywhere, and everywhere the whoosh of lubricant being poured out

for a penis that would never, ever come.

He begain to feel what little air existed down here starting to blow away.

Suction.

It made sense, of course. Kate was a woman, and unlike most men (who--thanks to

Sam Kinnison--would be trying to lick the alphabet), Kate was going for the one

spot on Lindsay guaranteed to get a good reaction. None of this G-spot bullshit.

Just aim for the clitoris, and all would be good.

He thought that last sentence as he felt himself pulled inexorably by the vacuum

created by Kate. He flew out of the vagina at an appreciable speed, but

thankfully, much lower than the lips of Kate. He bounced off of her chin, and

ricocheted into the covers.

He watched and listened as Kate finished her work, and then pulled herself up

next to her lover, spent and happy.

They started up again about five minutes later, with Lindsay doing the work this

time.

* * *

Morning broke late.

He stretched and looked at the four enormous feet that were his vantage point.

He tried to remember how he'd ended up at this part of the bed. He thought maybe

he'd gotten tangled in Lindsay's hair at some point; maybe it happened when he

accidentally ran up to a resting Kate to see how much of her nipple he could

squeeze, only to be quickly and inadvertently sucked off by Lindsay.

Whatever the cause, he knew that as much fun as these two had been, he'd be best

suited by getting up and going to bed in his own part of the wall. That was a

long way from Kate's bedroom, he'd better....

He stopped dead and looked around. Fuck.

This wasn't Kate's room.

It was a hotel somewhere. They must have gone in on a hotel room for the night.

It was the only answer.

He'd have to stay with Kate. She'd have to go home eventually. The enormous

figure of Lindsay stirred first. She leaned over to her lover, kissed her gently

and said, "WAKE UP HONEY, WE'RE RUNNING A BIT LATE. I CAN'T MISS MY FLIGHT!"

She rolled out of bed and strode to the bathroom. Damn, she was attractive. A

dancer's build, he thought. Lucky Kate.

Kate?

She had gotten up too, and was getting dressed a long way from the bed.

That couldn't be good.

He tried to figure out what to do. He had to get to Kate. He didn't want to be

stuck in a hotel room; the maids cleaned every day, and besides, he liked his

home, and especially its occupants.

He saw what he was looking for presently; a purse, leaning up against the bed.

He looked over at Kate, and saw no purse there. There was a fifty-fifty chance.

He gambled. He slid down the sheets and into the small gray handbag. He moved

quickly, looking for the thing he had to find--a wallet.

Pulling himself inside, he read the driver's license with a sinking heart: "M O

R G A N L I N D S A Y"

He began to move quickly. He had to get out before....

The purse jerked upwards violently, and he was thrown into a mass of tampons and

makeup and loose change. It was okay, he thought; he'd just get out when they

got to the car.

Of course, when they reached the car, they shut Lindsay's purse in the trunk.

This wasn't starting out as a good day.

* * *

He thought of the plan on the way to the airport. It was a shit plan, but it

would have to work. He liked Lindsay fine, but he didn't want to go to North

Carolina. He wanted to stay with Kate and Julie and Jane.

So he worked his way into the wallet again.

This was going to take timing.

They went through the check-in line for an eternity, before he finally heard the

desk clerk request an I.D. This was it.

As the wallet entered the rest of the world, it occurred to him that Kate may

not have walked Lindsay in. She may have just dropped her off.

The wallet opened, and he leapt for the blue topaz ring on her finger. He

gripped the tiny diamond that flanked it like it was made out of, well, diamond.

He held on tight as the left hand of Lindsay Morgan made little circles and big

circles and lopsided figure eights, all at Warp 2.

Just as he was about to ralph, he saw what he was praying to see: a blur of red

hair. Kate.

The two lovers hugged their goodbyes, and as they did, Jake leapt for Kate with

all his might.

He landed, bulls-eye, just inside the neckline of the back of her shirt. He

plunged southward a little way before snagging her bra strap. He sighed.

This just plain sucked.

* * *

The drive wasn't that painful, mainly because he worked his way to a space by

her spine where he wasn't mashed into the back of the driver's seat. He thought

to himself, what else could go wrong?

He wouldn't have thought that if he had realized that they were going to the

gym.

As it was, he was wholly unprepared to find the ledge that was Kate's bra

suddenly being removed, and he was especially surprised when he landed on a

springy surface, essentially unhurt.

Kate went about the business of getting ready without paying much attention to

him, as he slowly realized that he'd fallen directly into a pair of running

shoes.

Suddely and without warning, the figure of Kate loomed over him, clad only in a

green spandex sportsbra and black spandex biker shorts. Her right foot obscured

her beauty, and quickly, the cotton-covered foot was sliding into everywhere.

The air displacement buffeted him back into the toe of the shoe, something he

was quickly grateful for. As they began to walk, he realized that the tiny

amount of space in the front of her shoe was just enough for him to avoid being

mashed to death by a twelve-foot-tall little toe.

Instead, he pulled himself up onto the weave of the fabric between the big and

second toes of Kate. And he stayed there through her entire routine, and let the

sweat and stink of her feet overwhelm him. Anything to keep from getting home.

And his perserverance worked. She threw the socks--and him--into her gym bag

without a second thought. And after her shower, she took the gym bag home and

brought it upstairs with her. She even did him the kindness of not putting the

clothes into the hamper that evening. Instead, she left the bag in the living

room, just a few feet from an entrance to his home.

He stumbled out of the bag, and worked his way, slowly, cautiously, weakly,

towards home. He settled in soon enough, food and water that he had neglected

filling his stomach, thoughts of where he'd been and what he'd done filling his

head.

As he drifted to sleep, he smiled.

* * *

It was good to rest, he thought, good to get himself set up for the coming

winter. The Halloween party had been fun to watch, but he hand't injected

himself into the mix. Thanksgiving, too, was behind him, a long, lonely weekend

where the apartment stood empty and the girls went home to their families.

Now came the most consistently bad part of the year: Christmas. The house would

empty out for almost a month, the heat turned down to nothing. If he was lucky,

he would have enough food to last; last year, he had almost run out before the

guys came back.

He was almost too busy stockpiling for the break to turn his attention to

loftier pursuits. Almost. But he was taking a break today, sitting on the desk

of the lovely Jane, watching her study. He was gaining an appreciation for Jane.

He had thought her the least attractive of the three girls when he first saw

her, but he was realizing quickly that she was by far the most sane, and

probably the nicest as well. And he also was reassessing her beauty; her cobalt

blue eyes looked seriously through Lisa Loeb glasses, her long brown hair was

pulled neatly into a pony tail. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and

jeans, with her left leg tucked under her right. In short, she looked normal,

not flawless, but her very normality was very attractive.

His break was short-lived, however. The remains of a sandwich sat on her desk.

She had not touched it in a half hour. He decided it was probably safe. He

walked over rapidly, and began quickly pulling breadcrumbs away from the bottom

slice, and sawing off just a bit of the turkey within. After he had acquired a

load as big as him, he began pushing it towards the edge of the desk.

Suddenly, he had a feeling he hadn't had since he was full-sized. He whirled,

and saw cobalt blue eyes sweep quickly away from his position.

He froze, panicked. Had she spotted him? He had felt her gaze--but she wasn't

looking at him now. She was still reading.

No. She couldn't have seen him. She was studying. It must have been his

imagination.

He turned back to his work, and felt it again.

He turned, and again, the eyes flitted back to the book, her face

expressionless.

With all he could muster, he pushed the food over the edge of the desk, and at

full run, reached the light cord. He slid down, and ran for the cover of the

floorboards at top speed.

He swore he could feel her watching him the entire way.

* * *

He didn't go back into Jane's room until the last day of finals.

She would be leaving for home soon, and he was foraging there for any last bit

of food that he could hoard. He waited patiently for her to leave, then began

searching.

He came upon it presently. On the floor, right where he had pushed the food two

weeks before. He expected to find the moldy remains of crumbs. He would have

saved it anyway; he'd eaten mold enough to know you could live on it, though it

tasted like shit.

He walked to the spot, and his mind boggled.

There was enough food there to last him a year.

A tiny bit of turkey. A little bit of ham. Some bread. A thimble full of--my

God, beer! And dwarfing it all, looming over everything like a temple, was a

whole sugar cut-out cookie with frosting.

And a note.

He began to tremble as he looked at it, much larger than billboard-sized, though

he could tell that the author had taken great pains to write as small as she

could.

It read: Dear Friend

I do not know if you can read. I do not know if you are capable of thought. I

don't even know if you exist, or if I dreamed you up in the stress of finals.

But if you are real, and you can read this, I want you to know that you have

nothing to fear from me. I hope you can be my friend.

Here is some food to last you until we return. I guess you must be living on our

table scraps or something. It looked like you were trying to take part of my

sandwich the other day. You probably will have a hard time when we're gone this

month. I hope this helps.

When I get back, I'd like to meet you. I hope you'd like to meet me. Whatever

you feel, I will try to help you, my tiny friend. Good luck, and Merry

Christmas.

Love,

Jane Matthews

P.S. I baked the cookie myself! Jake read the note, and read it again, and read it again. After a few

minutes, he had to remember to breathe.

It was late afternoon, and all the girls were gone for Christmas.

He heard the furnace kick in.

* * *

The next month was both agony and ecstacy. Ecstacy because he had all the food

he could desire, including the best cookie he'd had in years.

Agony because he was very afraid of what the future held.

She seemed nice. She acted nice. Hell, she'd even baked him a cookie! A good

cookie.

And she knew he existed.

And she wanted to meet him.

Him!

And he desperately, desperately, wanted to meet her. Talk to her. Laugh, and

joke, and cry, and be with her.

And yet his mind was clouded by memories of the last "her."

* * *

"You could work for the CIA my boy, don't you want that?"

The General--Major General Mitchell M. "Mitch" Michaelson (USMC)--was an

imposing figure when your atomic structure was stable. He stood six-five,

weighed a solid 325, and looked like he could wrestle a bear to the

ground--which, according to legend, he had.

Jake was down to five-two now, and he was still shrinking. He sat, silently,

next to his girlfriend of five years, Deborah Jackson. She was two inches taller

than him, already.

"Jake, this could be big, you know. You should stay here, let them test you."

"Debbie, you know goddamn well how this whole project has been--vivisection was

the nicest thing they did to the fucking chimps. You think that we should trust

these guys?"

"Jake, don't you trust me?"

"If I had let the beam hit you, would you be so trusting of Mitch?"

"Now, Son, listen to your girlfriend here. Why, she's grateful to you. You saved

her from your fate...."

"Yes, Jake, listen to the General...." He stood, ashen. He was down to four-six

now, the General and his girlfriend were closing in. "We can't let this get out,

Jake. Think of the panic," said Debbie, smiling slightly.

He'd never noticed what an ugly smile she had.

He ran through them, surprising them both. Before they could order the lab

secured, he had vaulted through a window, landing hard three stories below. He

bounced up, unharmed, and ran as fast as he could.

He would shrink down to almost nothing.

But he was free.

* * *

Julie was the first one back. "WHAT THE--DAMN IT, JANE MUST HAVE FORGOTTEN TO

TURN THE HEAT DOWN. WELL, SHE'S PAYING THE BILL," muttered Julie as she walked

into the warm home. She was pretty as ever, though she had inexplicably dyed her

hair blue over break. It wasn't a good decision, mused Jake, as he watched from

the lookout in the living room.

Kate was next, practically glowing. He knew she was planning on visiting Lindsay

over break. It must have been a particularly good visit.

Jane got back last. She was dressed in a manner altogether different than

ususal; she was wearing a short gray skirt with dark grey tights, and a form

fitting blue top that showed off her assets nicely. Her hair had been cut to a

shoulder-length. She looked fantastic.

He really hoped he had done the right thing. It had been a hard decision. But he

wasn't about to give up his freedom. Not for anyone.

* * *

Jane went straight to her room, and surveyed the area.

It was obvious that something had gotten to the food she'd left, and the cookie

had a small but noticable divot taken out of it. But when she turned to the

letter, she gasped.

Scrawled with a little bit of pencil lead, in tiny, tiny letters, was one word:

THANKS

He wasn't giving up his freedom. But he wasn't going to let a good deed go

without thanking his benefactor.

* * *

For three long days, he watched her.

Every day, she left him a little bit of food before she left for school. Every

day, he took the food away. He was watching for a trap, or a change of

behavior--any signal that she was out to ensnare him. But there was no

signal--only an indication that she seemed willing to feed him.

On Saturday evening, he decided to chance it. He climbed up onto her bed, then

walked the half-mile to her pillow. After ascending it, he came to a rest on the

white fluffy mound, and waited for her.

She came in at about 12:30 in the morning, looking tired. Without a word, she

disrobed completely, showing off a body that was not the voluptious sexpot body

of Julie, nor the lithe dancer figure of Lindsay, nor the Amazon goddess body of

Kate, nor even the teenage cutie body of her sister Tanya.

She was imperfect. Her hips were a little to wide, her breasts were firm, but no

bigger than a B cup. Her stomach had a little bit of a roll to it--nothing

abnormal, she was certainly not fat, but she was not in perfect shape, either.

She had definitely the least perfect body of anyone he'd seen since the girls

came here.

She was absolutely, undeniably gorgeous. By far, the most attractive of all of

them.

She put on a light flannel top and flannel pants, and after turning on the

reading light and turning off the overhead light, she slipped into bed, and

briefly laid her head down on the pillow.

He raced over to her, grabbing handfulls of brown hair, pulling himself towards

his goal with all his might. He had no idea if this would work; he feared he was

too small for even this to allow him to achieve his goal. But he had to try.

He reached her ear in about two minutes. He leapt onto the fleshy surface and

climbed into the ear canal, right as she rolled over onto the opposite side of

her head.

He was briefly disoriented, but he quickly regained his bearings. He had fallen

a bit into the canal, but this was fine. It was absolutely fine.

He sighed, and then, with all his might, he shouted:

(jane)

The world suddenly was in a cavalcade of motion. He tried to guess what had

happened as he slowly picked himself off the floor of her ear canal. He thought

she had probably sat bolt upright. Well, if the situaton was reversed, he

would've too.

From all around, the voice answered, "WHO--WHAT--WHO SAID THAT?"

(it's me jane. the little man you've been helping,) he shouted.

"OH MY GOD," she whispered. "YOU'RE REAL. WHERE--WHERE ARE YOU?"

Giantess Stories: Homo Sum by DX Machina

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