Giantess Stories: NANNY  A story by Pril

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NANNY

A story by Pril

1

"But I just told you I don't want to take a bath now. What's the matter? You

don't understand English?"

"I do, sir," she answered with a little apprehension. "But I was told by Mrs.

Williams that seven thirty was the time for your bath, right before dinner, and

that it was my duty to make sure that not only you'd take it, but also that

you'd be impeccably clean."

"Well," he answered with exasperation, "That might be what she told you, but I'm

the man and breadwinner of this house and the final word is mine. And my final

word is that I'm not going to take any bath. Do you get that, my child?"

Since early that morning, Brenda had been living the strangest day of her life.

At about eight o'clock the phone had rung in her little downtown apartment. A

bit surprised to get a phone call so early in the morning, she had the pleasure

to hear Ms. Marison's voice on the other side. It had been some good many months

since she had last talked to her dear ex teacher, who, for two long years, had

trained her in the secrets of child behavior. Brenda was a certified

kindergarten teacher who had been so successful in her short career that she

ended up working privately for different rich families as a child-minder, thus

making a reasonably comfortable living.

Still young, she considered all her life ahead of her. She was also an extremely

beautiful woman who, nonetheless, kept a low profile by rarely wearing

ostensible clothes or much make-up. Although six foot tall, thin, and extremely

well proportioned, naturalness more than attraction was what people appreciated

in her. Her gesture was graceful, her manner well measured. That was partly what

made her so successful with children and their parents. She was quick to smile

and extremely careful in her comments. But, as those who knew her well would

testify, she could also be completely firm and intransigent about things she

considered important. At the end of the day, it was her will that was finally

imposed, and not that of the people who tried to get away with an attitude below

her standards.

All these features had made young Brenda the dearest protege of Ms. Marison, who

had time and again provided her with job opportunities until she could stand on

her own feet. And now, after a longish time, she had decided to call her again

for a most special offer very few people actually could know about.

"Is it a child prodigy?" Brenda couldn't hold her curiosity.

"No, dear," was Ms. Marison's kind reply. "I can assure you that you wouldn't be

able to guess what I'm talking about in a thousand years.

About an hour later, at the elderly woman's house and with a princely breakfast

on the table, Brenda didn't make any efforts not to show how surprised she was

at the whole story.

It had been rumored for quite a long time that a strange virus had spread some

time ago, first far away and later closer by. Apparently there had been some

people who had been attacked by a strangest ailment that made them shrink to a

tiny fraction of their original sizes. The newspapers had offered huge amounts

of money for the scoop, and some blurred photographs had appeared here and

there, but there had been no official confirmation whatsoever of such

allegations, and the rumor finally died away.

"Oh, yes," Brenda said. "I remember all about it. I think it was all a big lie,

wasn't it?"

"Well, my dear," Ms. Marison sweetly answered, "you are going to have to change

your opinion."

The old teacher, who also knew many people, had an old friend who had married

some years ago to some kind of libertine that had made her life impossible. They

had lost touch a long time ago, but she had just been called by the woman the

previous night.

"Sonia, my friend," Ms. Marison explained, "told me her husband had been

attacked by the strange virus a few months ago. I would have never believed such

a statement hadn't it been for the fact that I know Sonia so well. You see," Ms.

Marison continued, "we went together to university and she's been a dear friend

ever since. I also attended their wedding and I remember to this day what a poor

impression her husband made upon me and everybody else. But, I guess, being good

looking and something like fifteen years younger than her, Sonia just couldn't

help falling in love and letting him do whatever he wanted."

"And what happened now?" Brenda wanted to know.

"Well, apparently," Ms. Marison went on, "he's been shrunk a few weeks ago and,

ever since then, she just doesn't know what on earth to do with him. She says

he's become the most spoilt and bitter of people. He seems to be driving

everyone crazy in the household and she can't hold the situation any longer. So

much so that she badly needs a vacation and someone to take care of him in the

meantime."

"I see." Brenda said.

"Brenda," Ms. Marison said with emotion. "You are the best person I can think of

for such an important, even revolutionary task. I've always trusted you and I

know you'll do a fine job. I even have hopes you'll be able to help the little

man and revert part of his rebellious behavior."

"Well." Brenda hesitated. "I don't really know."

"Nonsense," Ms. Marison interrupted. "I know you too well to accept any

misgivings from you. And I also know how rich the Williamses are. Believe me,

Brenda, you'll get more money for two weeks' work than for an entire year."

"But I know nothing about adults."

"I'm sure you'll learn what to do very quickly. Anyway, from what I gather, Mr.

Williams doesn't seem to behave very differently from an ill-mannered child

these days, not to mention his ridiculous size: twelve inches!"

"What?" Brenda cried.

"Yes, my child," Ms. Marison said. "The man is only one foot tall and, although

I haven't seen him myself, I've been told he's quite a sight."

"Twelve inches." Brenda said in disbelief.

The rest of the morning had been spent on some last minute errands and the

packing of a couple of suitcases with clothes for two weeks. The Williamses

lived quite far from Brenda's town and there would be at least a couple of

hours' fast drive to get there. At around three o'clock, she found the mansion

she was looking for. It was a huge white house, well hidden in the forest,

surrounded by great extensions of wild trees. Brenda got out of her car,

stretched her long legs and fitting skirt after the long trip, looked at her

white face on a tiny mirror, and rang the big bell at the entrance.

She was surprised when Mrs. Williams herself opened the door for her. She was a

woman of about fifty, still beautiful, with kind, sad eyes that expressed all

the unhappiness of fifteen years of bad marriage and the latest undeserved

ordeal. The huge house, exquisitely decorated, was quite empty of people. The

woman gently led Brenda into the large living room, where a nicely set tea table

was waiting for them. As an elderly woman (the only servant left in the house)

served them, Mrs. Williams proceeded to explain her sad story to her young

visitor.

"Oh, I wish I could change my past," she said with wet eyes. "He was so handsome

and considerate. I was already thirty-five and starting to get worried about

never finding the right man for me. Little did I know that he was fooling me,

that he was thinking of my money and possessions. I still love him and think

he's a good man, but, God, he's made me suffer so." she stopped to dry a tear or

two and continued.

"And now, a few months ago, when at least I was used to things being the way

they were, this. this curse that made my husband shrink to such a ridiculous

size and wounded his pride in such a way that he can't tolerate the sight of

anybody. He's become so aggressive, so intolerant and sour. You can't talk to

him without getting shouted at or insulted. All my servants left the house in a

panic, after years and years of faithful work."

The woman talked so genuinely that Brenda couldn't help feeling a wave of

sympathy for her.

"And that's when I decided to phone dear Gwen," Sonia Williams explained,

calling Ms. Marison by her first name. "She's always been a good friend of mine

and I knew she'd find the right person to deal with my husband in his peculiar

condition. You look so pretty and kind, dear," Mrs. Williams said to Brenda.

"How old are you, my child?"

"Twenty-five, ma'am," Brenda answered respectfully.

"And I understand you have plenty of experience as a nanny, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Brenda said. "Although I can imagine this is quite different."

"Of course, of course, dear," Mrs. Williams hurried to say. "But he needs an

awful lot of patience and dedication, you see. Almost as a child does."

"I see."

"And I'm at the very end of my tether, dear," Mrs. Williams went on. "I do need

a couple of weeks off. The situation as it is, is completely intolerable."

Suddenly, out of the blue, a sharp shriek was heard nearby,

"You fucking stupid cow!! How many times have I told you to stay out of my way?"

Brenda was shocked to hear both the words and the strange voice. The little man,

making an unexpected appearance in the living room, had just finished shouting

at the old woman that had just served the ladies tea.

Shocked as Brenda seemed to be at the thin voice, she looked almost blown off

her feet at the sight of the man that had just uttered the rude statement. He

was as tiny as he had been described, only that he was now flesh and bones, and

not only a story. Twelve inches tall and perfectly proportioned, as when he had

been his normal size, Mr. Williams was literally a living Barbie doll, moving

about in a most fascinating way.

Looking still embarrassed after such an opening, Mrs. Williams said to her

husband,

"Oh, Albert, darling. Please come and meet Brenda. She's the lovely young woman

I told you Gwen had recommended to look after you when I'm away."

The little man got slowly closer to both ladies, still sitting on the sofa, and

looked at the younger one for a long time. Too long, was the first thing that

came to Brenda's mind, once she seemed to recover from the shocking beginning.

She suddenly felt she should have put some other clothes on for their first

encounter. Maybe wear pants instead of the fitting skirt. She felt gigantic next

to this tiny man, which was a strange feeling indeed. But for some reason, she

recovered quite quickly. Also, she couldn't help thinking, he would be able to

look straight at her panties if she got up. Finally, she said,

"Hello, Mr. Williams, nice to meet you," and, after an uncomfortable second she

decided to stretch her hand toward the little man.

But he just looked at her and her hand with sarcastic indifference talking,

instead, to his wife,

"What are you bringing children here for?"

"Oh, Albert, please," Mrs. Williams pleaded. "Can't you try and be more polite

at least this once? Brenda will be taking care of you for two whole weeks, and

I'm sure she'll help and be here for you for whatever you might need."

"I don't need anything," the midget shouted at the top of his voice. "What I

need is those useless doctors of yours to find a cure to this fucking @!#$ I

must have gotten from you!"

"Oh, Albert, please." Mrs. Williams said, almost crying.

"Oh, do me a favor and spare me your cheap show," he continued cruelly. "You

want to bring young girls to play the nanny with me? Suit yourself. Just make it

plain clear that she's to be at my service twenty-four hours a day, and that she

has to call me 'sir' and all that @!#$ I always expect from my servants. Is that

clear, Sonia?"

"Of course, darling," his frightened wife answered.

Well, that's some cheek, Brenda found herself thinking with indignation.

As suddenly as he had turned up, the little man disappeared again, leaving the

ladies to discuss the rest of their contract. Brenda was offered an incredible

sum of money for such a short-term job, which hardly demanded anything from her,

except devote herself to the little man's needs and his wellbeing.

Nonetheless, used as she was to working with children and their obligations

toward their nanny, Brenda saw fit to demand certain guarantees necessary to

give her the authority to implement the very demands she had been hired for.

"I'm afraid I need to ask you for your permission to make sure that I carry out

my duties in a most effective way, even if I have to insist at the expense of a

temporary whim of your husband," she explained. "You see, ma'am, what should I

do in case I need to make sure that Mr. Williams is ready for dinner at eight

o'clock if all of a sudden he decides to go somewhere else instead?"

"Well, dear." Mrs. Williams hesitated, "I guess you're right. Obviously there

has to be some order, doesn't there? Yes. I agree. As long as the guidelines are

followed you should grant him all the freedom he needs, but I think it's only

fair that also you know where you are at every time. I only hope he doesn't get

out of hand. It's been so hard for me to handle him."

"Don't worry, ma'am," Brenda reassured her, a faint smile on her lips. "You can

leave that in my hands. I'll do my best to make your life easier once you come

back from your holidays. I'm sure my experience with children will be of great

help in dealing with your husband."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Williams said, "I really hope so," she smiled.

They finally agreed to let Brenda and little Mr. Williams spend the evening

together until dinner to see how they got along. In the meantime, the wife would

go out to town to sort out some last minute arrangements, coming back home for

dinner later. Then the three of them would have dinner together to smooth out

details right before Mrs. Williams' trip, later that night.

And, from then on, the ridiculous nightmare had started. For the last three

hours, the little man had driven poor Brenda literally crazy with his constant

demands: bring me this, bring me that; put this here and later there; look,

don't look; put the TV on and then off; don't sit on that armchair, don't cross

your legs when you're in front of me; open that door, close that window; don't

be silly, stupid, an ass, a jerk; you're only a child, you know nothing about

anything; that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard; who taught you that? You

don't understand English; you don't know what a woman is, a man is, a house is,

a brain is.

For three never-ending hours Brenda had been belittled, offended, abused, and

insulted in a way she wasn't used to any more. The little millionaire was simply

one of the most verbally abusive bastard she'd ever seen. And she had no

guarantees that at his normal size he could have also not been violent. In fact,

she wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case at all.

Finally, she had mustered courage and slowly started to counterattack, if only

in holding more firmly the timetable she had committed herself to delivering.

And now, this little pre-shower scene was taking place.

"So, read my lips," he finished. "I'm not taking that bath. Now," he rudely

said, "out of here!"

They were standing in front of each other and it was quite a view. The little

12-inch-tall man, wearing the expensive casual clothes especially made for him,

was aiming an accusing finger at the impossibly 6-foot tall Brenda, who was

looking down at the little man with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

"I'm very sorry, sir," she insisted, "But I've been asked to make sure you're

ready on time, and I take it as my duty to ensure the effective carrying out of

my orders. I'd like to ask you to be cooperative, sir."

"Oh, get out of here, you clown," was his snappish answer. And he turned around

and started to walk away. Brenda, feeling she'd had enough, slowly stepped

forward to catch up within a second with the little man's quick, little steps,

and blocked his way with her massive legs. This was getting out of hand.

"I'm awfully sorry, sir," she said, looking down at the midget, "But I've also

been instructed not to allow any scornful comments or nicknames, like the one

you just called me."

"Out of my way!" he shouted hysterically.

"Oh, no, sir," was her calm answer. "Either you head for the bathroom or I'll

have to carry you there myself."

"You won't dare touch me, bitch!"

Brenda, considering all the barriers had been crossed, slowly lowered her

outstretched hand, opening it to wrap the man's little body.

"No! No! You, bitch! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" he shouted as he tried to

get away. But then, when seeing himself inevitably trapped and secured in her

powerful hand, his shouts turned from angry into desperate. "Sonia! Oh, please,

Sonia, help me!"

"Your wife isn't home, sir," Brenda calmly answered. "All your shouting will

make your situation only worse. I strongly suggest you relax a little, sir."

Still out of control, little Mr. Williams continued to scream and kick in the

air, banging frantically her huge hand with his tiny fists. Brenda wasn't moved

in the least; she would have preferred him to be more cooperative, but she

wasn't ready to ruin her new strange career by not doing what she was told to.

Whether he liked it or not, Mrs. Williams had been quite clear in her

instructions and had actually agreed to give her the authority necessary for her

job.

Still holding the little rebel tightly in her hand, Brenda walked calmly into

the luxurious bathroom, put the plug into the sink drain and filled it up with

warm water. There seemed to be no special soaps or towels around adapted to Mr.

Williams' size, so she just concluded he'd have to manage with whatever was

available.

"Now, sir," she said, raising her kicking captive to eye level, "Will you calm

down and get undressed and wash as I wait outside, or would you prefer me to

take care of it personally?"

"Put me down! Put me down, you whore!" was all the screaming she got for an

answer.

"Very well, sir," she continued. "You can't say I didn't ask you."

And, not thinking twice about the humiliating effect on the little magnate about

being stripped by the hands of a commoner, Brenda proceeded to take off his

clothes. She was hardly surprised at the deftness of her own movements. Using

her long, thin fingers, and the long nails that crowned them, she slowly removed

every piece of garment the tiny man had on, from shirt to shoes. Realizing that

the more he kicked the more he was exposing his delicate skin to the deadly

scratch of ten huge, sharp nails, little Albert instinctively stopped his act.

Somewhat to his surprise, he found himself not altogether uncomfortable in the

vibrant grip of his captor. This was immediately sensed by Brenda, which only

gave her more confidence in her task, and even made her smile a little.

"Everything all right, sir?" she ventured.

"Don't talk to me!" he demanded. "Just finish your damn job and let me take my

bath in peace."

Once completely naked, little Mr. Williams covering his crotch with his hands,

Brenda gently placed him on the sink border and said,

"What shall I do now, sir?"

"Get out of the bath and come back when I call you" was his moody answer.

"With pleasure, sir," she said. "Only that I was told I'd have to make sure you

are ready and properly dressed for dinner by eight o'clock. So I'd just like to

remind you that I'll wait for your call but only until ten minutes before eight.

I'll need to check that you are impeccably clean (as I was instructed to do) and

help you with your clothes.

"Look here, Brenda, or whatever you are called, I'm not going to take this @!#$

from any little."

"Ten to eight, sir," she cut him in the middle of his sentence and walked out of

the bathroom.

Damn the bitch, he thought to himself as he saw the giant young woman make her

calm retreat. I'll kill Sonia for this. Who does she think she is? We must be

paying her a ton of money for her job and see what she's doing to me. Besides,

how old is she? Twenty? Twenty-two? Do I have to take that crap from someone

fifteen years my junior? I'll give her what for!

Suddenly realizing he was wasting time with this self-questioning while getting

cold, he decided to get into the warm water and try and relax. After a few

minutes of leisurely water treading, he came out to get the small bar of soap

lying on the dish. But when reaching it, the stupid thing slipped off his hands

and went rolling down to the floor.

"@!#$!" he said. "How on earth am I going to get that back?" He looked down but

there was no way to climb down the fine marble structure without risking braking

his neck in the process. For a moment he thought of calling Brenda to get it for

him, but he wasn't in the mood to ask favors, plus he hated exposing his

nakedness to her. He'd have to wash with just hot water tonight, and that's it.

He went into the warm pool-sized sink again and continued his relaxing bath.

At seven-fifty sharp Brenda walked back in carrying a set of tiny formal clothes

and said,

"How was your bath, sir. Did you enjoy it?"

"It was all right," he said indifferently. "Just pass me a small towel and wait.

Don't look at me while I'm dressing."

First she noticed the soapless water, and then she saw the dry soapbar lying on

the floor. Soon realizing what had happened, she said,

"As you remember, sir, first I need to examine that you've washed to a

satisfactory standard. And, frankly, sir, that's hardly possible when you

haven't soaped yourself."

That was the last straw he was ready to take.

"Just pass me a towel, you fucking bitch!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Who gave you the right to.?"

While he was busy trying to find the hardest way to insult her, Brenda simply

bent down to the floor, picked up the soap, took the little man in her hand

again, and quickly started soaping him as someone washing a large cucumber. Her

patience was also somewhat altered and she didn't put so much care in how she

handled him this time around. The poor little bastard found himself seized by

what could have been a huge ten-legged octopus that could do with him whatever

it wanted. Tossed and turned over and over by Brenda's efficient washing, he

swallowed soapy water and got quite dizzy, as the ordeal seemed to never end.

Once she finished, and realizing there were but a few minutes left before eight,

she also dried him with the same precision and moved him quickly onto a kind of

shelf on the opposite wall. Handing him his clothes, she said with undeniably

assertive voice,

"Your clothes for tonight, sir."

Poor Mr. Williams, still breathing heavily and coughing after the odd diving

experience, realized he was in no position to argue. Grabbing the items from her

huge fingers, he started to get dressed, and he hastened the process when he saw

her looking nervously at her watch. God! He thought. You could set your clock by

this woman. Once he finished, Brenda asked,

"Have you got a comb, sir?"

"A comb?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," she explained. "Your hair is still wet and doesn't look too tidy.

We'll have to comb it."

"Well, my dear tyrant," he smiled bitterly at her. "I'm afraid I don't have one

here. It must be in my chambers. And, since you seem to be so concerned about

being ready for dinner together with the radio official time, it will have to

stay like this for tonight, eh?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she disagreed. "But we'll have to try this for tonight." And,

grabbing his chin with two firm fingers, she proceeded to rake his hair back

with her long, sharp nails. The power of her grip, which made his body stand on

tiptoes, left him mute with awe. She stopped for a few seconds to examine his

style, and still pulled this and that lock of wet hair until she was satisfied.

Then, quickly glancing at her watch again, a little smile took shape on her

face, and she put the little man down on the floor, and said,

"Please follow me into the dinning room, sir," and she led the way there, the

tiny man following meekly behind.

Chapter 2

Mrs. Williams was already waiting for them at the nicely set dinner table and

she smiled widely when they entered the large room.

"So," she wanted to know, "How was your afternoon. Did you like each other?"

The little man quickly climbed up onto a chair and then the table, where a

tiny table and chair his size had been prepared for him.

"No, I didn't," he complained. "She isn't what I need at all. And she doesn't

have the least experience. And just now she's forced me to take a bath when I

didn't want to."

"Oh, darling," Mrs. Williams looked disappointed. "But you look so beautiful

now. So tidy and well dressed. And, you know I'm leaving for two weeks and

there's no one else to take care of you. Please make an effort to accept dear

Brenda. She's so nice."

"She isn't," he interrupted. "She's just seen me naked and forced me to wash

and hurt me when combing my hair."

"Well, sir," Brenda intervened. "You weren't helping much, and I think it's

necessary to have certain guidelines to know where we are."

"Of course, darling," Mrs. Williams supported her.

"No!" the little man shouted. "I don't want her to stay."

"But, darling," Mrs. Williams insisted. "Who's going to take care of

everything? You know poor Olga is the only servant left, and she comes a few

hours a day to take care of the cooking; that's all."

"There was a long silence in which no one knew what to say. Surprisingly, it

was Brenda the one that finally came up with a suggestion,

"Mr. and Mrs. Williams," she said. "Maybe if we all agree on certain line of

conduct and commit ourselves to following them, we can establish from the very

beginning what is expected from each one of us at every stage." As the couple

didn't object, she continued,

"I'll be happy to be of maximum assistance as long as I'm respected and

helped to carry out my duties here. In exchange for that, I'll be entirely at

Mr. Williams' disposal for whatever he considers necessary."

"Oh, what the heck do I care!" the little man said. "If you want to play

contracts you do it yourself. You can arrange whatever you want. I'll just do

whatever I want whenever I want it."

Brenda and Mrs. Williams looked at each other.

"In that case," Brenda said, "maybe your wife and me should draw the terms of

agreement between us, without your help."

He didn't even bother to answer.

So, for the rest of their dinner, Mrs. Williams and Brenda discussed what

life would be for little Albert during the next two weeks, while the person they

were talking about lost complete interest and simply concentrated on his food,

leaving the table within minutes.

Soon after dinner, Mrs. Williams quickly finalized the details of her

absence, called a taxi, and left the house almost in a hurry. She tried to say

good-bye to her husband, but he hardly showed any emotion. He just waved a hand

from afar and said,

"Bye."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Williams," Brenda said reassuringly. "You'll find a

different man when you come back."

"May God hear you," Mrs. Williams replied, and left home quietly.

Soon after, Brenda and little Mr. Williams were the only two people left in

the big house.

"I want to watch some TV," the little man said the minute the main door was

closed.

Brenda followed little Mr. Williams into the TV room.

"Put the TV on," he ordered dryly.

Brenda went up to the TV set and pushed the power button, then walked back a

few steps and sat comfortably on the expensive sofa. She crossed her long,

perfectly shaped legs in such an easy-going way that the little man got annoyed

at her matter-of-fact attitude. The worst was that those legs -like the woman

herself (he had to admit)- were so incredibly beautiful. He had a really hard

time trying not to let this fact change his mind. Brenda also sensed that her

looks were beginning to have their effect on the little monkey. It serves him

well, she thought, and sharpened the suggestive position of her legs.

"Well, what are you waiting for, you twit?" he rudely demanded. "You should

have passed me the remote control already."

"Sir, I'll have to remind you that it's been agreed you wouldn't call me a

twit or any other pejorative names," she answered. "Please remember that.

Besides, I don't know were the remote control is. If you'd be so kind as to tell

me."

"It's right over there under your nose, on the table next to your arm, you

blind ass!" he snapped, completely ignoring her warning.

"Very well, sir. I'm afraid I won't be able to help you if you insist on

calling me names," she didn't give up. If you don't like the channel we are

watching, feel free to take the control with your own hands and change it.

"Who do you think you are!" he shouted at her again. "I demand you give the

control right away, or else I swear you'll be fired tomorrow first thing in the

morning!"

Brenda didn't bother to answer or even look at the little man. She simply

took a magazine lying on the table next to the sofa before mentioned and started

leafing through it idly.

Little Mr. Williams tried two or three more empty threats but, on getting

absolutely no reaction from the calm, unmoved giantess, he decided to go for it

himself.

"Soon you'll see how little I need help from anybody," he said defiantly.

He took a few bold steps to the tall table and examined its structure. The

small, round glass top rested on a central wooden column that went all the way

down to three opening legs that kept the whole thing firmly on the floor. The

only way to get to the top would be climbing the wrought column to the bottom of

the glass and reaching the edge hanging from some metal rods that held the top

from beneath. He also considered the possibility of getting there via the sofa,

but the table was a bit far from it, and Brenda was sitting right there and he

didn't want to climb on and around her. After a few seconds he decided the feat

was possible as long as he made all the right moves.

The way up the middle column was relatively easy. He was a man (or a sixth

fraction of it) in his mid thirties, still fit and healthy. When reaching the

glass top from below, he could see the control right above his head. All he had

to do was hang his arms from the various metal rods holding the top, reach the

edge and climb up. There were quite a few rods from the center to the edge, but

he trusted his strength. Halfway through, though, he realized he may have made a

mistake. His body felt quite heavier than he thought for his arm resistance.

Each new rod became more and more inaccessible. His hands hurt and were covered

in a slippery sweat that made the whole thing only worse.

Brenda had become quite interested in his performance, even though she wasn't

going to make it obvious. Pretending to continue to read the magazine, she

couldn't help eyeing the little athlete more and more often, hardly concealing

her amusement at such a sight. The show became almost hysterically funny when,

with so much swinging, the little monkey's pants started to give way. To his

immense embarrassment and her hardly controlled laughter, the pants continued

obstinately their slow but sure way down in spite of all his desperate efforts.

He tried absolutely everything, from holding it with alternate hands to bending

his knees up in a supreme effort to prevent them from slipping down to his

ankles. He also considered the option to drop himself to the floor, after all

not that impossibly down below. But he was afraid to fall in a most inconvenient

position due to the pants entangled between his legs, and breaking his leg

bones.

There he was, the little clown, his pants down to his ankles, hanging almost

inert from a small side table, unable to decide what to do and getting more and

more tired by the second. Brenda continued to pretend total indifference

although she had plenty of time to look at him surreptitiously, as he was so

busy with himself. Finally, a wave of pity passing through her mind, she

ventured,

"Need some help, sir?"

"I don't need no help from no little brat!" was his surprising reply. Brenda

decided she had made a mistake by trying to help and returned her indifferent

sight to the magazine.

Little Albert finally gathered some extra strength from somewhere and

managed, with great effort, to get to the edge of the glass. He was still

clambering to the top when he saw, to his dismay, that Brenda easily took the

control he had been desperately trying to reach for such long minutes, changed

indifferently the channel, and put it back on the sofa next to her, exactly on

the opposite side from the table. Once he got on his feet he quickly tidied up

his pants and was about to complain, but then he thought that that would be

admitting defeat, which he abhorred. He was still glaring at her when she simply

asked,

"Everything alright, sir?"

He didn't answer. The way down was easier than the way up, first because of

gravity, and second because, for once, his pants stayed put. He quickly walked

to where the control was, ready to climb up the sofa, but when only a couple of

inches from reaching it, Brenda took it up again, quickly switched off the TV,

and said,

"I'm afraid TV time is over, sir."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" he shouted, almost in pain.

"Well, sir," she said with a serious face. "TV time was from whenever we

finished dinner till nine thirty. It's nine thirty at the moment, so I'm afraid

you'll have to wait till tomorrow in order to watch some more."

"I'm not taking this fucking @!#$ any more!" he started to bang his fists in

the air. "You give that thing to me right now or I'll take it from you myself."

She was still sitting on the sofa and he was standing on it, next to her.

Aiming for the control she was holding in her hand, little Mr. Williams made a

quick snatching move with his arm that was easily dodged by the giantess. Taking

his challenge, she kept the thing above him, not very high but high enough to

make all his jumping and jerking completely useless. He invested his very last

stamina of the day in trying to grab the prized control from the beautiful, calm

hands of the woman in charge, and the more he tried the more he made a fool of

himself and he knew it. Brenda kept an interested face, showing very little of

her thoughts, and waited patiently for him to collapse, breathless on the soft

cushion. Once it was clear who'd won their little contest, she said,

"As I said, sir. I'm afraid we'll have to wait till tomorrow for some more

television. Now, if you may, please follow me into your chambers so I put you to

sleep," and she got up to her feet, remote control still in hand, looking

impossibly tall to the little man lying down on the sofa, completely exhausted.

God, he thought, I have to beat her. I have to find the way to beat the bitch!

This feeling of frustration and revenge got mixed, once more, with the

awe-inspiring sight of the gorgeous giantess that seemed to rule now his life.

He couldn't stand her sight, but he couldn't help looking reverentially at her,

either. But, wait a second, had she just said put you to sleep? Partially

recovered from his strain he said,

"What do you mean 'put me to sleep'?"

"Yes, sir," she explained. "Your wife instructed me to make sure that you're

in bed and sleeping by ten o'clock."

"Me in bed and sleeping by ten o'clock?" he almost laughed. "Are you out of

your mind? I've never done that in my life!"

"So I think it's about time you start enjoying the benefits of such a healthy

habit, sir," she suggested. "Also, remember that you have to brush your teeth

and change into the proper pajamas before bed time, so please follow me to your

room to make sure there's plenty of time before you fall asleep."

He debated with himself what to do. If he tried to run away, after such

physical efforts, she for sure would catch him within seconds. On the other

hand, if he went with her and got into bed, he could soon pretend he'd fallen

asleep and wait for her to leave him alone in order to slip out of bed and do

whatever he wanted. Yes, he decided. That made sense. Let's just play her game.

Before she knows it she'll be the one sleeping like an angel and me the one

watching the channel I want on TV. He slowly got to his feet and climbed down

the sofa, soon following the giant young woman to his room.

The large bedroom was probably the best-equipped place for him in the

mansion. His bed was still huge and everything had been left as in the old days,

but there were a few appliances adapted for the little man's needs. Thus, he

brushed his teeth in a little sink and got undresses behind a folding screen.

"Don't look at me while I'm changing," he snapped at her. "I've had enough

body watching from a teenager for one day."

"You shouldn't worry, sir. I'm neither looking at you nor was I hired for the

privilege of such a treat," she said, knowing the comment wouldn't go amiss.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "Let me remind you that my condition

is only temporary and that from the minute I get back to my normal size on,

you'll be one of the first things I'll take care of," he threatened.

"I'm sure you'll do that, sir," she said, unimpressed. "Nonetheless, right

now, what we'll take care of is your sleep. Please get into bed."

"Well, what's wrong with your nuclear clock?" he mocked her. "It must be

fully ten minutes before ten o'clock. How are you going to manage me closing my

eyes and drifting into a sweet dream within exactly six hundred seconds?"

"Well, sir," she said with a smile, "That's something you shouldn't worry

about. Just be so kind as to get under the covers."

As he walked toward and climbed up the large bed, already relishing in the

idea of freedom after she left, he heard a soft hum fill up the room. By the

time he got into bed the hum had turned into a delicate song incredibly well

sung with the sweetest of voices. Well, he thought, you can't take that from

her; she definitely knows how to sing.

Her soft tune continued for a couple of minutes as she tidied up the room.

Little Mr. Williams had all his senses focused on the song. Yes, he thought,

suddenly feeling very tired, I'm going to enjoy the night the minute she leaves.

And couldn't help opening his mouth in a little huge yawn. Just a few more

minutes and I'll go. I'll go. Where..? Wh...? Zzzzz.

By the time Brenda finished her tiding, she sat on the bed, next to the

drowsy one-foot-long man, never stopping her song. He was almost asleep, a sweet

little smile drawn on his lips. He looks so cute, she thought as she watched him

finally drift off into a mumbling dream.

"Good night, little prince," she whispered as she passed a soft finger on his

face. Just before she removed it a casual, involuntary move of his lips kissed

the tip of her nail.

"Oh, darling," she said. And left the dark room quietly.

Chapter 3

Early next morning, little Albert Williams was suddenly awaken by early

daylight coming through the windows.

"Good morning, sir," Brenda cheerfully said as she continued to draw the

curtains. "Have you slept well?"

It took the little man some very long seconds to remember yesterday's

newcomer and her irruption into his life. He forced his memory to see where he

had gone after she left the room, but he concluded he couldn't even remember

seeing her leave it. Had he really fallen asleep at ten o'clock? Impossible!

"What time is it?" he asked with a husky voice.

"Six o'clock, sir," she answered from the window. "Time to get up and start

our very busy schedule.

"What?" he said, annoyed. "Six o'clock? Do you think I'm gonna get up at this

time? Do me a favor and close those curtains and wake me at twelve thirty."

"Sorry," she said well-humored, "But it's jogging time for everybody, sir."

He suddenly realized she was wearing a gym suit and holding another, tiny

one, in her hand.

"No! No! And no! It's cold outside and I've never done this in my life," he

shouted, digging his head under the warm covers.

"Oh, come on, sir," she tried to encourage him, "There is nothing like an

early start to enjoy the day to the fullest."

There came no answer from under the blankets. Brenda walked assertively to

his bed, pulled the covers aside, and saw the little man all crawled up in the

fetal position.

"Come on, sir," she insisted but, after a few seconds of no reaction, she

said,

"Very good, sir. If that's how you want to behave from the beginning." And

she took the little man in her hands. He immediately started to kick and jerk

and she had to tighten her grip. Quickly carrying him into the toilet, she

gently put him in the sink while still holding him tight in her hand, and turned

on the blue tap. A thick jet of cold water streamed down, drenching the little

rebel in a second. The morning was cold and the water freezing. Poor little

Albert found himself shaking to the bone.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouted. "Turn it off! Now!"

After a long minute of keeping the tiny man under the cold water Brenda

turned the tap back off and offered a towel to the trembling midget.

"I suggest you dry off quickly and put on these clothes, sir," she said,

showing him his little outfit.

"I swear, Brenda, I swear!" he said between shivering teeth. "I'll make you

regret every minute of this!"

Ignoring his statement, she gave him a few minutes to get dressed and said,

"Now, sir. Let me put you down and show you what our training's going to be

like." And, before waiting for an answer, she put him on the floor and led the

way into the garden. He followed her at a trot, since he badly needed to keep

moving in order to get rid of his cold sensation.

Once in the garden she commanded,

"Very good, sir. Now I want you to run for ten minutes around the garden,"

and she started clapping her hands rhythmically.

Little Albert was only glad to start running, since he desperately needed to

warm up. Only that after two or three minutes, feeling warm again and already

bored of running around, he tried to stop. Brenda prompted him to continue, but

he waved a dismissing hand at her,

"No," he said. "I'm out of breath. Let's go have some breakfast."

"I'm sorry, sir," she repeated her sentence for the millionth time, "but

breakfast will come only after some good physical activity and a warm shower."

And, faster than he realized, she pulled a thin piece of string out of nowhere

and tied it round his neck. Pulling it gently forward, the poor little man

didn't have an option but run, if he didn't want to stumble and fall head-on to

the ground. Still running bumpily he shouted,

"What am I, a dog? Take this thing off me right away!"

"Sorry, sir," was her negative answer. "The ten minutes aren't over yet."

Once they were she gave him a couple of minutes to catch breath and removed

his improvised collar.

"Good, now," she continued. "Now it's time for fifty sit-ups."

He suddenly found himself on the wet grass struggling with his long

out-of-shape body to comply with her demands. After about 35 of them he just

thought he'd die. But, once more, Brenda's solution didn't leave any doubts

about how seriously she took his fitness: she dug two long fingernails into his

legs inflicting quite a bit of pain, and said,

"It's either this or the completion of your fifty, sir."

Then came the climbing of the rope, for which she used a piece of thicker

string. Not finding anywhere to hang it from, Brenda just held it with her hand,

her arm outstretched. As poor little Albert painstakingly managed his way up he

couldn't help marveling at the difference between their conditions. While he had

to put all his effort into getting that high, it wasn't even above the giant

woman's eye level who, besides, was holding the entire structure. Also, as much

as he could manage, he stole lascivious glances at the woman's body,

great-looking even in sport-wear, while going up and down her little invention.

After good forty minutes of demanding training, Brenda said,

"Not bad, sir. Not bad at all. I'm sure tomorrow will be even better. Now,

it's time for a good morning shower."

"Go to hell," was all he had to say as he walked to the bathroom.

After the shower, it was breakfast time at seven o'clock. Like last night,

little Mr. Williams found himself sitting on the large table at another, tiny

one, in front of his nanny.

"What?" he cried when seeing what breakfast was. "Cereal? What am I, a horse?

I want my bacon, and scrambled eggs, and toast with butter, and a piece of

chocolate. Together with coffee with cream."

"Sorry, sir," was her firm answer. "This is much healthier. But if you finish

it off I may consider a little cup of coffee after."

"You may consider?" he made fun of her, "Well, thank you very much, Ms.

Consideration, but I'm not having this children's stuff. I'm a mature person who

knows what he wants and what I know is that I'm not going to eat this @!#$."

"As you wish, sir," was her answer. And she proceeded to take his bowl back

to the kitchen.

When she came back, he said,

"I suppose I haven't been granted that coffee you mentioned, have I?"

"Aha." she answered. A strange silence followed her word. ".sir," she added.

This was the first time in these two days she had forgotten to finish her

sentence with the prescribed respectful term. Neither of them was sure whether

the other had noticed the detail, but they never mentioned it.

"OK," he suddenly said as he watched her eat her cereal with gusto, "You win,

I'll have my cereal after all."

"I'm afraid that's a little late, sir," she objected. "You've just told me

you don't want any."

"So what?" he said with exasperation, "Can't I change my mind?"

"Sure you can, sir," she didn't give up. "Only that I can't be running back

and forth after your whims. If you are the mature person you claim to be, think

what you say before you open your mouth, as mature people do. Besides," she

added, "you seem to have the tendency to talk to me in a rather rude way, even

when asking favors."

"OK, OK," he dismissed her comment, "I'll be nicer to you in the future. Now,

just go and bring me my cereal."

Brenda seized the chance.

"If I bring it to you, can I count on your improving your manners?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said impatiently.

"Really?" she smiled, moving her plate aside. "In that case may be we should

make a deal."

"What deal?" he said.

"Well." she continued, "would you commit yourself to never calling me names

again?"

"Yes, no problem," he answered, trying to get her to do what he wanted and

forget about it.

"But I'll need certain guarantees," she smiled amiably.

"What guarantees?"

"Well," she explained, "how do I know that you won't be insulting me again

within half an hour?"

"Er. you have my word," he said nonchalantly.

"OK," she went on. "Here is my suggestion. If you call me again any of those

derogative names we'll have to open a ten minute window."

"A ten minute window for what?" he didn't understand.

"A ten minute window for me to respond to your transgression in whatever way

I choose."

"What, insult me back, you mean?" he became cautious.

"I'm afraid you'll have to trust me with that, sir," she almost winked at

him. "In any case, if you've given me your word there shouldn't be any problems.

Your word counts, sir, doesn't it?"

"Of course!" he seemed to be offended.

"So, sir. Have we got a deal?" she wanted to know. "Next time you call me

names do I have my ten minutes to deal with you as I see fit?"

He thought for a couple of seconds and finally said,

"OK, OK. We've got a deal. Now bring me that cereal."

Brenda carefully stretched her hand for him to shake it. He grabbed the tip

of her beautiful finger with both his hands and shook it.

"A deal"

Breakfast ended with the coffee she had promised.

"Very good, sir," she announced energetically, "it's time for some morning

activity now. First: newspaper reading."

"What?" he said.

"Yes, sir," she explained. "Apparently you don't seem to know much of what's

going on in our country and world, except for sports. It's about time we learn a

little what reality is like beyond the four walls of your beautiful house."

As usual, he objected, saying he knew everything. But a couple of questions

about this and that well-known politician or world event showed that he didn't

know much more than the names, if at all. So they displayed the daily broadsheet

on the table and Brenda chose the articles to be read. She was appalled by his

ignorance and poor reading, not much more developed than in a nine-year-old boy.

After a long hour of tiring stumbling through the text he asked for a break.

"In a minute, sir," she said. "Let's finish the article first."

"No!" he got exasperated. "I don't want to finish it. It's boring and I don't

care about it. I want to stretch my legs and walk a little. Now."

"Well, sir," she insisted. "I'm afraid we'll do that after you finish."

"Bitch," he muttered.

The minute he did so he suddenly remembered his promise.

"I'm sorry?" Brenda looked at him intently. "I thought we had a deal, sir.

But apparently your word seems to be somewhat erratic. I'm afraid we'll have to

open a little ten minute window under the terms we discussed earlier."

"What did I say?" he pretended surprise. "Hey! What are you doing?"

Brenda had taken a satin ribbon out of her pocket and was tying it up around

little Mr. Williams' neck.

"Well, sir," she continued in a matter of fact way. "This will be my response

to your insult for now. We'll take the walk you wanted all right. But you'll

have to do it as a little dog, leashed to its master."

"What?!" he shouted, trying to prevent her giant fingers from completing her

work, to no avail. "Like a dog? What am I, an animal?"

"I'm afraid that for the next ten minutes you'll have to be whatever I decide

you to be, sir," was her indifferent answer. "We have a deal, remember?"

"I don't care about no deal!" he tried to object. But by the time he finished

his sentence he was already down on the floor being pulled by the giant woman as

a little pincher who doesn't want to walk.

"Come on, puppy," she teased him. "Time for your walk."

All his tiny physical objections went absolutely nowhere. Brenda was pulling

hard and even lifted him up in the air by the ribbon round his neck, which made

him choke. Soon he found himself walking fast around the house and out into the

garden, almost trotting to follow the woman's steady steps. Once out there, she

said looking down at him,

"Come on, puppy. Do what dogs do. Smell the ground and trees."

"Brenda, please," he tried to reason with her. "Don't."

"I'm sorry, puppy," she smiled. "I don't understand dog's language very well,

so you should stop barking. It means nothing to me." And she continued, "OK,

little puppy, now sit on the grass. We are going to learn a few tricks."

Never waiting for the little man to obey her requests but deftly pulling her

ribbon to put him in the right position, she said,

"OK, little dog, show us how you lift a leg."

"Brenda, pl." She gave the ribbon such a yank that he jumped into the air and

fell clumsily on the ground. He was soon realizing that, in spite of her playful

tone, she was actually being very serious about her demands. Getting back to his

standing position, the ribbon still stretched and pulling at his neck, he slowly

raised an arm.

"That's a beautiful puppy!" she cheered. "Let's see now how you put out your

tongue to show us how happy you are."

The little clown didn't have an option but stick out his tongue, which Brenda

met with renewed positive comments. Then, suddenly looking at her watch, she

said,

"Good, sir. The ten minutes are over. Now let's go back, finish that article and

take a break."

During that break little Mr. Williams tried to convince giantess Brenda to

forget the deal they had agreed upon earlier on, but she wouldn't hear of it.

Finally ignoring his protestations, she said,

"Very good, sir. Now it's time for some TV instruction."

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Well, sir," she explained. "I've marked on the newspaper program two or

three highly instructive documentaries which could greatly benefit your patchy

education. You'll just have to watch them and then sum them up for me."

"What are you, my elementary school teacher?" he mocked her. But when he saw

her removing the ribbon from her pocket again, he quickly added,

"OK, OK, I'll watch your programs. Maybe there is something interesting in

them after all."

For the next hour and a half they both devoted their attention to some wild

animal and environmental pollution documentaries, which were quite good. But

little Albert wasn't used to focusing his mind on anything beyond second rate

thrillers, so he took good care to show his boredom. By the third huge, sounding

yawn, Brenda said,

"Sir, if you yawn once more I'll have to make you watch the rest of the

program on your feet."

From then on he took good care not to yawn again or, at least, not to do it

so obviously. Then, Brenda granted him a ten-minute break until eleven o'clock.

"What we'll have then is your first lesson on good manners," she said.

"You must be kidding me!" he clapped his hands in the air.

"No, sir, I'm not," was her stern answer.

.

 

Chapter 4

After studying her face for a while, he realized she was dead serious and

decided not to fight an already lost battle. Instead he said,

"I'm already hungry, you know? What time are we eating?" He couldn't help

realizing he was gradually turning his orders into careful questions of

permission.

"At one o'clock, sir," Brenda said. "But you may have a little chocolate or

something if you want."

"Well, thanks for your kindness, Ms. Generosity," he said mockingly. "In that

case I'll be having the chocolate, if you don't terribly mind."

"No need to be sarcastic, sir," she said fearlessly, and went into the

kitchen.

Once back, and walking with a tiny piece of chocolate in her hand for Mr.

Williams, the phone suddenly started to ring. Forgetting for a second what she

had just come back for, she walked towards the telephone and picked up the

receiver, leaving poor little Albert empty handed.

"Oh, Mrs. Williams," Brenda said professionally, "Yes, ma'am, everything is

all right, thank you. Yes, ma'am. Yes, he is behaving perfectly all right. Yes.

Yes."

The conversation seemed to be extending into some unimportant details. Little

Albert was becoming impatient with his chocolate and was trying to get Brenda's

attention waving his arms, but the giant woman was still in her own world of

reporting to the boss. He finally got closer to the giantess's legs, standing at

the little phone table, and jumped high up trying to snatch the prize from

between her fingertips, graciously relaxed at her side. His attempt was a couple

of inches below target and he tried again. There was little improvement, but he

wasn't still there. The more he jumped, bumped and got tired with the continuous

effort, the poorer his performance got.

In the meantime, Brenda was still chatting with Mrs. Williams, never

realizing the tiny man's useless pirouetting in the air. His final go ended in

total failure. He just collapsed to the floor, completely exhausted, still

looking up at the unaware winner of a contest in which the woman hadn't even

realized she was taking part. Still panting, lying down on the ground, little

Albert for the first time patently came to understand what this young lady was

doing to him. She was becoming his feeder, instructor, and provider. She was

deciding what he does, how he does it, and when he does it, if she allows him to

do it at all. Her power was such that she could leave him absolutely flat on the

floor not even noticing what had been actually going on.

And he looked at her from beneath. She was so incredibly beautiful, and

natural, and gracious. The mere way in which she innocently held that piece of

-for him- inaccessible chocolate made his desire wake up. He stared at her long,

well shaped, beautiful legs; at her elongated young body, at her pretty face.

God, you are beautiful, he thought, and couldn't help a ticklish sensation pass

between his legs. But no! No! He wouldn't let anyone decide for him. He wanted

his freedom to do as he wished, no matter how gigantic the enemy. Sooner or

later he'd manage to get rid of this intruder and break free. Yes, sir! No one

would tell him what to do. He got up to his feet and renewed his vow not to be

defeated by anyone, especially a young woman who could have been his very little

baby sister.

The phone conversation went on for a few more minutes, in which he calmed

down and patiently waited for Brenda. Once she finished, the young nanny handed

the little man the piece of chocolate with a smile.

"Your wife sends you love, sir," she said. "Don't forget we have our lesson

starting in a minute," she added.

Up yours, he thought.

At eleven sharp their 'manners' lesson started. For it he climbed up the table

in order to take a seat on the tiny chair on top.

"Oh no, sir," Brenda stopped him on his way up. "For this activity your chair

will be placed on the floor, right in front of mine."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I won't even be able to see your face

properly."

"I know, sir," she answered. "But that's how you see most people anyway and

it's necessary that you learn your way around from the position in which you'll

find yourself most of the time."

"Well, no," he objected. "I prefer the table, anyway." And he continued to

climb.

"Sorry, sir," Brenda apologized once more. "But the lesson will be carried

out from the ground." And, simply taking the tiny chair in her hand, she

proceeded to put it down on the floor. Then she placed a regular chair in front

of the little one and sat on it herself.

Mr. Williams, who had reached the tabletop, waited in vain for a few seconds

but, on seeing no reaction, he unwillingly stepped down and took a seat where

his nanny had told him. Once there, he found himself in front of a massive pair

of legs, disappearing high up into a fitting dress. Well above there were the

woman's generous breast and her angel-like face, which he forced himself to hate

in spite of their beauty. The picture turned even worse when she comfortably

crossed her perfect legs into a position that seemed to him just too

self-confident for somebody who, after all, was working for and being paid by

his household. The tip of her medium-heel sandal was so close to him that he

could distinctly smell the typical, yet intoxicating shoe aroma. Her big toe

showed through an elegant opening. God, he thought, every bit of her is just

perfect. Then, looking up at her face, he suddenly realized her smile was giving

away the fact that she had noticed his little infatuation. He immediately

changed his attitude into a non-committing one and said,

"All right? Do you feel happier this way?"

"Don't worry, sir," she said, keeping her smile. It won't hurt as long as

everything is done well. You can only benefit from this, I can assure you."

And she continued right away,

"The two most important words of any well-mannered person are 'please' and

'thank-you', which, I've noticed, seem to be almost absent from your vocabulary.

I'd say that as long as you use these two magic words there shouldn't be much

else to worry about. As long as you mention them when necessary all the rest of

our lessons will be but commentary."

She stopped for a second to see whether he was taking it in. As there was no

comment, she continued,

"Today we'll devote our time to these words and their application, and I'll

expect you to start using them more often even after the class is over. So," she

proceeded, "let me give you an example of what I mean." And pointing out at a

Giantess Stories: NANNY  A story by Pril

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