The Tinkerer was an easygoing young man, twenty-one years of age, who ran a profitable business from his magical coat pockets. In them he had access to a storage back home, his trusted companions there in charge of it, and could summon the items to him, selling magical trinkets and gadgets many found useful, entertaining, and interesting.

He wore his custom brown coat, reaching his knees and often unbuttoned, with the specific pockets within them able to summon the items in his vast storage. The trousers were a complementary drab black, and from his neck hung a necklace with beads of many colors buttoned throughout it. His hair was bushy and blond with shades of brown.

Though for all his expertise and long travels, he had to admit he was currently lost. His destination was the town of Minn, where a summer festival would be held tomorrow, a lucrative opportunity to sell his wares. He did travel along a path, but he feared he’d taken the wrong turn, and time was the issue. Currently it was late evening, and tomorrow the festival began.

Though he believed he heard a presence, the moving of trees in the distance. The Tinkerer extended his five fingers. They shone green, stroking his ear with it, then got down and put his glowing ear to the ground.

The tremors were faint and distant, but his enhanced ear could pick them up. The rhythm was that of footsteps, undoubtedly a giant. With a few taps from his fingers, the Tinkerer infused his shoes with the same green glimmer, and he dashed with superhuman speed after the sound, the tails of his coat whipping behind him. Hopefully, the giant could at least provide directions towards Minn.

His sole focus was to catch up, not let those giant strides outpace him. He crested a rise and saw the path curve, and espying through the woods, he saw those giant, bare legs cycling forward, one after the other, the thighs visible beneath the treetops. The Tinkerer made a beeline towards her, into the trees and tearing past the underbrush for a shortcut past the bend of the path. He would make it in time, her steps more pronounced, a few trees near the roadside shoved aside.

The Tinkerer jumped out to the path ahead of her. “Excuse me, madam, would you—” It hadn’t been smart to get ahead of her. Beside her was far more ideal. What was also ideal was realizing this beforehand, not as the dirty sole swung forward and hovered over him.

The foot pancaked him against the ground. Oblivious, the giant kept walking, the Tinkerer firmly plastered to her right sole. His head was smushed by the ball of her foot and his shoes ended at the bottom of the arch. The foot was understandably dirty, travelworn, pebbles and grass and shards of bark and branches scattered across it, and the sole treated the Tinkerer no differently, reducing him to the common debris it collected along the way. It was as if he’d thrown himself in her way to provide her with a clothed, half-assed sandal, and whether she knew it or not, she was using it well.

He'd gotten a good glance of her before the right foot swallowed him up. She wore a short green frock ending at her upper thighs, revealing plenty of naked leg, and had a skinny stature. The Tinkerer had seen her two braided pigtails falling around behind her, and more interestingly, a saddle of some sort had been installed around her neck, leaving two seats on either shoulder, where two men sat.

If the giant were heading to Minn, the Tinkerer had no complaints. He could endure the stomping, a hardy man of magic. But if she weren’t, his predicament would only worsen.

His expectation that she would stop soon due to the late evening was fortunately proven correct. His backside met grass instead of the road’s soil, and she stood on him steadily, the heel rising sometimes as she bent over. And at last, she sat cross-legged, freeing half of the Tinkerer’s body.

With his head sideways, he groaned, “Excuse me, miss…”

She startled, her face popping into his vision with a gaping mouth. “Oh, look! Someone appeared on my foot.” She turned forward again, at the two people with her. “Sev, Rocky, my foot just made someone appear!” The Tinkerer was swung about as she uncrossed her legs, kicking her foot forward and putting him on display. “See? I told you, I must have a magic foot. It gave birth to him. Am I a mommy now?” Her voice carried a dull accent, and she didn’t look like a child. Adding the few missing teeth in, there was no quicker way for her to convey to the Tinkerer that she was an absolute simpleton.

“That must mean I’m the daddy,” said one of the men, mirroring the giant’s thick, countryside accent.

The other man sighed. “Tara, you must have stepped on him along the way. Let the gentleman down.”

The Tinkerer could rest easy. At least one of them wasn’t dim-witted.

The giant, Tara, curled her toes in to wrinkle the sole, making him loosen off it. The Tinkerer fell, yet with a snap of his finger and a zap of green, he regained form and landed with grace.

“Ooooh, he’s a magic man,” Tara said. As the Tinkerer expected, they had made camp here, a few mattresses laid out and branches gathered for a fire, the sun almost down.

“I’m Sev,” said the normal one of the group, hand on his chest as he bowed. Sev had his dark hair ponytailed, a goatee hemming his sharp face in. “I am terribly sorry, sir.”

The Tinkerer dusted his coat off and shook his hand with a chuckle. “Oh, it’s nothing at all. My travels have seen much worse, I can assure you. But I must ask, is the town of Minn anywhere close?”

“We’re headed there ourselves, for the summer festival,” Sev said.

“Ah, then we’re all settled! I carried a terrible worry I wouldn’t make it there in time, you see, believed I was lost. I rushed to you to ask for directions, and it seems you’ve taken me with you. I ought to thank you.”

Sev was impressed. “Gratitude after a trampling like that, an iron temperament I could use. What’s your name, and what brings you to Minn, by the way? I couldn’t help but notice your flamboyant exit from Tara’s foot.”

“I’ve wares to sell. I’m the Tinkerer.”

The surprise was clear on Sev’s face. “The Tinkerer?”

“Indeed.” The Tinkerer reached into his pocket and threw his hand up, unleashing a stream of rainbowy glitter, sparkling ever upward like a rising cloud.

Tara clapped like a seal. “Oooooh, I didn’t know my foot could make someone like that.”

“I’ve got a trick right here,” said Rocky, and he squatted down and let a great fart rip from his ass. Tara laughed like a pig.

Sev leaned in against the Tinkerer and whispered, “Another apology is due. My brother, Rocky, was born dumber than a pile of bricks, and he found someone comparable in Tara. They’re in love, you see.”

“No apology needed,” the Tinkerer said. “If anything, they’re sweet together.” The Tinkerer and Sev spoke a while as they set up the rest of camp, but night was approaching, and all of them wished to make it to the festival early tomorrow. They slept around the fire, with Tara’s legs spread out like a V enclosing them.

The Tinkerer woke that night thinking the tickle in his bladder was the culprit. But he noticed the fire was still burning hot and bright. And then he noticed a sound, a slimy slap, like eels flopping about in a bucket. He turned his head up and saw how much closer Tara had shimmied to the fire, how Rocky’s clothes lay in a heap where his mattress was, how the hems of her frock had been drawn up and the panties pulled aside, as she held Rocky naked by the ankle and penetrated herself with him.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”