Giantess Stories: Malled  by D

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Malled

by D.X. Machina

 

I found my bliss at the Mall of America.

No, really, I did. I found happiness at the U.S.A.'s biggest shopping mall,

right there at a cart by the big Snoopy. And at a very reasonable rate, too.

Of course, what has made me so happy might not appeal to you. You probably

value stature, and power, and all that other consumeristic stuff. Well, not me,

buddy. I never aspired to much. Just the opportunity to live out my fantasies,

unencumbered by the trappings of modern life.

And I got my wish, not too far from the Holiday convenience store, on the

first level, east side, Mall of America.

* * *

I find it odd that, every time a story deals with a person buying a magic

item, there's always an old, grizzled woman involved, laughing maniacally and

selling valuable items for 5 cents, while prattling on ominously about "the

curse of Matt LeBlanc." Not so in my case. The person I bought happiness from

was a genial, fat, balding man, who claimed he was but 22, although he looked

about 50.

"Hey there, friend, want to be happy?" he asked, rather directly.

Now, ordinarily, I would have ignored him, but today, I listened. You see, my

girlfriend had dumped me the week before, and my parents were out of town, and I

was failing my Econ course and....Well, I suppose you don't really care, do you?

Suffice to say I was glum, and somebody asking me if I wanted to be

happy...well, I figured I could go see what religion he was advocating.

"Sure, you want to be happy, we all do, but you don't know how, right?" He

continued in his patter. I nodded.

"Well, friend, I was like you once, glum, downhearted, sick of life. Then I

found the answer. You want to know what that answer is?"

Here it comes. The pitch about the Reverend Shree Moon Koresh.

"Miniaturization." The man's voice was low, whispered. "You'd like that,

wouldn't you, Greg?"

I thought about that for a minute. This conversation had taken a very odd

turn. I had always fantasized about being shrunk. I would, indeed, "like that."

But how did this guy know my name?

"I know all about you, Greg. You're a sophomore at Normandale Community

College. You could have gone to a better school, but you didn't really care to.

Your friends from High School are all gone now, your girlfriend has dumped you,

you don't like your parents, and all you really want to do is get away from it

all. Right?"

I nodded stupidly. Who was this guy, Kreskin?

"Nope, name's D.X. Machina. That's a stage name, actually, but that's not

important right now. My question to you is this: how would you like to get

small?"

* * *

The crystal only cost me $19.95. Really, I don't know how D.X. managed to

stay in business. He said he did it for the love. Then he sold me a set of

second-hand mountain climbing gear for a mere $339.95. I thanked him, and went

on my merry way.

I went up to the north food court on the third floor, grabbed a Coke, and sat

down at a table. I began to read about the crystal. How it had been blessed by

the Greek God Proteus. How it had been used by spies in the Civil War. How it

had been reset on a beautiful real faux gold chain by the Taiwanese. And most

important, how it worked.

"This GENUINE crystal is easy to use," said the guide. "Simply grasp the

crystal in one hand, envision yourself a certain size, and--presto! change-o!

scruncher! scrum!--you're as small as Thelma Thumb. The effect lasts as long as

you wear the necklace...."

Well, seemed simple enough. I strapped the mountain climbing gear on my back,

and stood up. I decided that, if the crystal worked, I shouldn't use it out in

the middle of the food court, lest my escapade be witnessed by hundreds of

people. I went into the alcove by the rest rooms.

The area was deserted. Quickly, I grabbed the crystal, and imagined myself to

be three inches tall. Hopefully, I opened my eyes.

Nothing had changed. Damn. $19.95 down the tubes (plus the mountaineering

gear--but that was useful stuff).

Then, as abruptly as nothing had changed, everything had changed. There was a

quick flash of light, and the world changed, as if someone

had flipped a microscope on to higher magnification.

The pay phones towered above me. The hall was cavernous. I was three inches

tall.

This was too cool.

* * *

I thought about where I should go. Victoria's Secret? The Gap? Where? And

how? At my present height, wouldn't it take me hours to get where I wanted to

go? Should I unshrink? If I did unshrink, would the crystal work again?

Shouldn't I have read past the first page of the instruction manual? Would I

ever think a declarative sentence again?

As I mulled over the possibilities, I heard a huge noise from behind me. I

turned, and saw the first two giantesses I would ever see.

One was lovely, wearing white, open-toed shoes, a short, short skirt and a

light blouse. I could see her blond hair cascading down her shoulders. She was a

vision.

The second giantess was wearing overalls and tennies, and a red t-shirt. She

had straight, brown hair, and was cute.

The first giantess was probably 24 or 25. The second was being pushed by the

first giantess in a stroller. She was about 4 or 5.

It was an intense moment. I had been prepared for 130 foot tall

women--looking forward to them, actually. But 64 foot tall girls? It was an

amazing sight. And, I realized presently, a solution to my problem--if I wasn't

spotted.

The mom was talking on the phone, and the little girl was busy examining a

teddy bear. As quietly as I could, I crept right beneath the front of the

stroller, took out a rope, and lofted it towards the foot rests. The hook bit

into the rubber, and I began to pull myself upwards.

I was surprised by how easily I moved. Some side-effect of the shrinking, no

doubt. Before the stroller was in motion again, I was pulling myself up next to

the right foot of a little girl.

All of a sudden, we took off like a shot. I was knocked to my knees by the

sudden start, and stunned by the world passing by me at warp speed. Furthermore,

I had grabbed a hold of the girl's shoelace for support, and realized that I was

in imminent danger of being discovered (and while the thought of a girl finding

me and holding me captive was not without its merit, I wanted that girl to be a

good fifteen to twenty years older than the one in question).

I had only moments to think, so I decided the best thing to do would be to

make detection more difficult. That meant getting smaller still. I grasped the

crystal, and envisioned myself at 1/4th of an inch tall. I opened my eyes, and

as before, the world abruptly switched. I was holding on to a shoelace that was

twice as wide as I was tall. The world went by at twelve times the speed it had

before. But I relaxed,as I was too small to be easily seen.

We traveled down the escalators until we reached the first floor. Before

long, we had entered a clothing store, probably American Eagle. When we stopped,

I set my rope, and quickly rappelled down to the ground. This mountain climbing

equipment was well worth the investment.

I thought about what I should do first. My hand went to the crystal, and I

envisioned myself three inches tall again. Unfortunately, nothing happened. And

nothing kept happening. Sensing that this was a bad thing, I quickly made my way

to relative safety, and consulted the guide.

I realized upon reading it that I had made a serious error in not reading

ahead. It seemed that every time I used the crystal, I was committing myself to

be that size, or smaller, for one hour. I could always shrink, but if I shrunk

to 1/4 inch, I would stay that size for an hour, then grow back to 3 inches

(which I would stay for the balance of my hour at 3 inches.) This shrinking

thing was harder than it seemed. I tried to figure out how long I'd been 1/4 of

an inch tall. Fifteen, twenty minutes?

As I pondered, I saw two enormous figures approaching. One stopped directly

in front of me, one a long ways away (although it was standing right by the

other figure). I was staring at a pair of sandals, the soles of which were

taller than my head. In those sandals were two titanic, enormous bare feet,

which flowed directly into a pair of tattered jeans. About seven hundred feet or

so up, I saw a belt, a bare midriff, and what looked like a halter top. I saw

the face of a young girl an impossible distance above me, though the face was so

far away I could not hope to guess how old she was.

I debated. I could stay here, play it safe, and wait to grow a bit. It was,

of course, the smart thing to do.

Or I could try to climb up on those sandals, and see if the girl needed a

pedicure.

It wasn't that hard a climb, really. Luckily, the girl was checking our

sunglasses, and wasn't moving very much. Before I knew it, I was standing by the

girl's left big toe, which dwarfed me in size. I walked in, towards the thong

which separated her big toe from her other ones. It was incredible, standing

between toes taller than I.

Abruptly, the girl began to move. I was amazed at how fast she walked,

stunned by the rough and tumble of the motion. I was thrown back and forth,

though she didn't seem to notice me. Finally, she stopped, and I found myself

bounced up on top of her foot. I was trying to decide where to go, when she

kicked off her sandal. I nearly fell off, as the foot tipped sideways, but just

as I reached the edge, she put it back down.

I watched in horror as her jeans fell down around me. I was lucky not to be

crushed under tons of denim. I was swept off her foot, though, and found myself

looking out of the hole in her left knee. I figured out, eventually, that the

girl was trying on clothes--new jeans, to be precise.

When she found the pair that fit her, she pulled on her old jeans again, and

me along with them. I found myself at the junction of the two pant legs, staring

up at the girl's panties. I was thankful the jeans were loose; I could have been

crushed to death. As it was, I started climbing the girl's fly, trying to get

out of her pants.

I made it about half way up, when I began to question what I was doing. I had

enjoyed this very fantasy a thousand times. Here I was, with a chance to act on

it, and did I do anything? Nope. I felt like an idiot.

It wasn't a hard jump, and once I made it, it was easy to hold on to the

fabric. I immediately became aware of the heat and scent of this young woman. It

was a singularly indescribable moment--when I realized that my fantasy had

become reality, and that reality more than measured up.

Unfortunately, all was not perfect. Yes, I climbed up to the elastic band,

and tried to find a way inside, but all my efforts were futile. I probably

wouldn't have had the strength even if the girl was standing still, but she was

in constant motion, and I was constantly struggling to maintain my grip.

Finally, reluctantly, I did make it to the top of her jeans. Looking above

me, I saw another goal, this one attainable--if I could figure out how to bridge

the gap between waist and halter top. The answer, naturally, lay in the

mountaineeri ng gear.

I paused, and tried to figure out where in the mall we were. The last thing I

wanted to do was get caught in another change of clothes. Fortunately, it looked

like we were in a restaurant. The girl was sliding into a booth, and I was

almost crushed by folding abs.

I quickly got to work. Carefully, I tossed the rope--and it bit fabric! I

pulled myself slowly up, until I found myself at the bottom of her top. I

clambered inside, and took a quick rest.

She had nice breasts. I mean, they were going to be big no matter what, but

they were big proportionally. Best of all, she wasn't wearing a bra, which

allowed me free reign to inspect them.

For a long time, I just sat there, drinking in the moment. Then, I began

inspecting her left breast. I could feel her heart beating slowly, sense the

rhythm of her breath. I climbed the distance to her areole, marveling at its

sheer scope. I climbed further, until light burst upon me.

I had traveled to the top of her breast. A few feet above me, an immense crystal

pendant glittered. From here, I could tell the girl was more properly a woman,

perhaps twenty or twenty-one. I was considering my next move, when disaster

struck.

I'm not sure why it happened. Suddenly, the breast beneath me, which had been

rising and falling steadily with each breath, suddenly began to shake violently,

uncontrollably.

The woman was laughing.

I struggled to grab hold of something, but it was too late. I found myself

launched into the air just far enough to clear the edge of her breasts, and

began plummeting towards earth.

I landed in the middle of enormous white things, each almost as big as I was. I

panicked for a second, then realized that I was lying on

a bed of rice. I wasn't dead. I wasn't even hurt. That was a really good

feeling, until I looked to my right, and saw a five-story long piece

of sweet and sour chicken. I watched in fascination and horror as the woman

began to pour sweet and sour sauce down in a stinging, hot rain.

I ducked under the chicken just in time to avoid being coated. As it was, I

was splashed by sauce, and found myself stuck, just as the piece of chicken

above me was neatly plucked by two chopsticks. I ran as hard as I could, trying

desperately to avoid being scooped up and eaten.

I made it to the edge of the plate, and hurled myself onto the table. I

didn't stop running until I reached the relative cover of the Soy Sauce bottle.

There I stayed, watching giantess and her friend (who was almost as good

looking) devour what seemed to be enough food to feed Wyoming for a year. I

stayed put until they left, then crawled out from cover, and sighed.

This whole being small thing was hard. Rewarding? Sure. Fun? You bet. But

hard. For example, I was sitting there, pondering, when the table was bussed. A

pretty young woman of Asian descent was leaning over me, pulling off the dishes

that had been used. I was considering my options, when she pulled out a sponge,

and without so much as an excuse me, knocked my off the table, onto the seat

below. I lay there a minute, groaning. The fall hadn't hurt anything but my

pride. Slowly, I got to my feet. As I did, I realized that I was very, very

tired. It was hard work, surviving at 1/4 inch. Then, it dawned on me. I'd been

this height for well over an hour. I could grow again, and shrink later. I

needed the rest.

I used the ropes to lower myself to the floor, a task that took almost twenty

minutes. Finally, I got out from underneath the table, just as a party of four

was being seated. Taking care to avoid being trampled, I grew to a height of

four feet, eight inches--short enough to get a feel for who would make a good

giantess, tall enough to avoid getting stepped on.

In a way, it was almost as fun. I wandered through a mall filled with women

who averaged seven feet tall. Oh, I drew a few stares, but there are plenty of

men under five feet in height.. It was getting late, and the mall was starting

to clear out, so I headed up to the Upper East Side, where the bars were. I

quickly decided to go into Gators, because it was college night, and that seemed

like a good time to me. Rather than spend my time waiting in line, however, I

shrunk myself to a height of six inches.

I spent my time ogling the women--hey, that's what guys do at bars--and

diving out of the way of feet. And I had a grand old time of it, too. That is,

until the beer incident.

I was standing by the foot of a lovely specimen of womanhood, staring up her

long, long legs which disappeared into a neat black pleated skirt. She was

obviously a mall employee of some sort, and she was obviously very drunk. I

found this out when she spilled half the beer she was drinking right on me.

Unfortunately, the other half spilled on her foot, which drew her attention

straight down. To me.

I froze. There was nowhere I could go. She looked at me through bleary eyes,

unsure if I were vision or reality.

She decided I was real. Quickly, she reached down, and in trying to get me,

toppled off her bar stool, and fell right towards me.

This could have been a bad situation, if not for my Yankee ingenuity.

Quickly, as I had earlier, I shrunk myself to a quarter inch. Good thing, as I

had maybe a foot of clearance at my scale. Then, I grabbed a hold of a button on

her shirt (I didn't think it would be good to wander the bar at insect size.)

She righted herself on the stool, and grabbed a new beer.

I found myself at bellybutton level, holding on to a five foot wide button on

a white blouse. Over a hundred feet below was her lap, the pleats now deep

valleys. I think she decided she'd had enough, because soon thereafter, she

hopped down off the chair, and with the aid of a friend, stumbled towards the

door. It looked like I was going home with her tonight. Well, it had been an

interesting day. A nightcap sounded like a good idea.

Giantess Stories: Malled  by D

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