Tiny Trafficking
No Minors are depicted in this story.
Chapter 1 A Man on the Inside
Blake panted, trying to catch his breath, still drenched in cold water, still not knowing anything about where he was except that he was right outside a random house somewhere in the Guli part of the city that had a cavalier attitude regarding safe words and boundaries. He leaned against a discarded, empty soda can as he tried to collect himself. His, well, pretty much everything ached, especially his shoulders and wrists. He rotated and flexed trying to get circulation back, to little avail. Meanwhile, his brain hardly had the gumption to work at a level other basic, bottom-tier Maslow’s Hierarchy shit, like survival instincts. Instincts that clued him into the fact that the distant, but approaching footsteps that thudded like thunder and made the ground quake would fall into the “should avoid” category. He scuttled from the can to hide in a few taller flowers near him in the yard. If not for the cover of night, this would not have worked for a hiding place, but he hoped it would suffice for now.
Blake winced and held his pounding head, as the noise and quaking ground made him fall on his ass. A black, high-heeled sandal roared into his view, framed by the canopy of flower petals, and the stems of those flowers on the sides. The menacing shoe crushed the can he leaned against a few moments prior. The giant owner of that sandal paused, clearly startled by the can’s crunch. She stopped to look down to see what made that sound, and then picked her sandal up and the can stuck to it, as it made a U shape around the sides of her foot. The giant foot failed , at first, in an attempt to remove the can by shaking. Her white toenails shone through black stockings and blurred in the low light with their fierce, flailing movement.
The can flew off, right toward Blake. He ducked and flinched. The can clanked as it came to a stop as it hit the stems of the flowers he hid under. The ankle of the giant woman flexed with her foot off the ground. Blake saw blood and clothing scraps on the sole. The giantess took off out of Blake’s view.
He muttered, “Fucking M–”
Another pair of pounding footsteps approached, thought much lighter, and with a stagger, or limp to them. Blake waited till they too were gone from his view and he couldn’t hear them and couldn’t feel them causing the ground to quake.
Blake sat there, in the mulch, under the flowers. He fell onto his black. He could see through the overhead canopy of petals just enough to glimpse the night sky. He didn’t know what phase the moon was, but he found it pretty, even though it mildly resembled the white toes that just stomped past him.
Why did he find himself here, banged up to the point of almost dying, freezing cold in soaking wet clothes, god knows where, trying to avoid not just one, but two, giant, homicidal serial killers? He tried to wring out as much water as he could from his shirt.
He looked up at that pretty moon and said aloud, through teeth chattering from the cold, “Fuck.”
*******
“Fuck. I am a little bit tipsy, but am I tipsy enough? So, you gonna put some clothes on?” A giant woman (relatively speaking) leaned against Blake’s house, right by the balcony he stood on. Even sitting down in Blake’s yard, her head was slightly higher than his roof. Her blonde, honey colored hair draped on that roof, in fact. Her bright, expressive, blue eyes were a little bleary from drinking a few, but that didn’t stop her from looking up at the stars. She wore a light-weight, V-neck top, with black and white horizontal stripes; very short jean shorts–that were currently getting a little grass-stained from sitting in Blake’s yard, and she WAS wearing flip flops, but those were currently leaning against the side of Blake’s house.
“I’m not dry yet.” He shook his head like a dog, making errant drops of water fly. Many landed on his giant companion, but she didn’t notice. He wore blue, baggy swimming trunks that went to mid thigh, and nothing else. As he shook, his slim body rippled. He didn’t have a lot of muscle–been called “wiry” his whole life–but he worked out a little. And he was grateful his whiskey of choice had no carbs in it. His medium length, brown hair, that could use a trim if he were honest, flew back and forth, defying gravity.
The giant woman groaned and looked from the stars to the tiny, shaking man. She let her eyes linger as his wet skin glowed under the lights of the balcony. “Ugh, this isn’t fair. I wanted to go in your pool. It’s so hot out!”
“You did dip your toes in. Scared the hell out of some Lillis in it at the time.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She giggled.
“I think maybe you did a little bit.”
She held up her pinched fingers to indicate “a little” and smiled.
The party was over. All the Lilli and Gulli guests had staggered home as the little man and giantess did what they did so many times: relax outside of Blake’s house and talk.
“You’re out of booze, aren’t you?” She looked at him with an exaggerated pout to her lip.
“Nope. I got you covered. If you can, reach around the side of the house, in the back yard, under the tarp.”
“Heh. Reach around.”
“You’re so puerile, Abby,” Blake teased.
The giantess strained as she stretched to see what was behind Blake’s house. “Puerile? I’m a year older than you, and way bigger.” Her long, red, perfectly manicured fingers fumbled with the tarp after she found it. This required dexterity as she didn’t want to accidentally knock a hole in Blake’s house as she tried to get booze, a task all the more challenging because she had a fair amount already. Alas, no house siding was scraped off in the grabbing of this whatever it was. She plucked the tarp off, and brought the mystery object up to her face. With excitement she said, “Hey! It’s a little airline bottle of booze.”
“Little?” Blake exclaimed. “That thing is huge! And I saved it just for you, my huge friend.”
She started unscrewing the cap to the little bottle. “That’s not a cool thing to say to a lady, smooth-talker.” She laughed, and took a sip from the bottle.
Blake held up his glass toward her. She got the message, and bent over and concentrated as hard as she could, as she lowered the bottle toward his beyond-tiny glass. The goal: to try to fill it with just a little drop.
“I thought you liked lording your power over us wee, tiny folk.” Blake tried to help the giantess out by moving his glass in an attempt to line it up with the bottle’s opening as it swerved.
She squinted and stuck her tongue out in determination as she got very close to making contact with his glass. “It can be fun sometimes.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Ooooh…” Blake exclaimed, flirtatiously.
“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” The giantess winced as whiskey spilled all over little Blake.
Blake inhaled sharply and wiped himself off as best he could and held his full-to-the-brim glass up. “Hey, full glass. That’s all that counts.” He took a big swig.
The giantess snorted and laughed. “Where did you get a giant, little airline bottle of whiskey?”
“A stewardess.”
The giantess nodded. “A stewardess. I take it she wasn’t a li’l Lilli?”
“Nor a big Brobi. She was your size.” He pointed at her with his glass. “Maybe a little shorter. Hard to tell down here. And…down there.” Blake pointed “down there,” and wiggled his eyebrows, as if it weren't abundantly clear that he was talking about the tiny version of going down (or up?) on a giant woman.
She laughed again. “You’re such a slut!” She shook her head in mock disapproval and let out another snort and chuckle.
“I prefer the term,” he looked off in the distance, theatrically, “Byronic Hero.”
“Most sluts do.”
“Hey!” Blake pretended to be offended.
The giantess lowered down so her face was closer to level with his body, not quite looking at him at eye-level. “I also think you’re a…himbo.”
“A himbo?” Blake clutched imaginary pearls that were not on his chest in actuality.
The giantess nodded and smiled, leaning in closer. Her sparkly blue eyes reflected the strands of lights on the balcony. Blake could also see his own reflection in them. She tapped a finger to her lips as she thought, and said, “And, uh, a zaddy.”
“A zaddy? Zounds! Are you teaching your students the queen’s English, or are they teaching you their youthful slang?”
“It can be a two way street.”
“Well, you’ve told me what you think I am. May I tell you what I think you are?”
She shrugged the one shoulder that wasn’t leaning against Blake’s house. “Sure.”
“Amazing,” he said, smiling softly up at her. He could tell his smile was goofy, from his reflection in her twinkling eyes. “Thanks for sticking around after the party, Abbs.”
She sighed. “Don’t read too much into it, shawty. I’m just too lazy and tipsy to get up yet.”
“Heard that. But, having a Gulli friend to help me clean up, post-party wouldn’t be too shabby.”
The giantess sarcastically said, “I love you. But…I don’t think I love you thaaaat much.”
“Well of course not. Love is a fantasy. It only exists in those books we teach the small fry.” Blake was clearly in his cups at this point.
The giantess said, “You don’t believe that.”
“I do.” Blake insisted. “Love doesn’t exist. Shit ain’t real.”
She leaned in and wagged her finger right by the railing of the balcony, in his face, or really, his whole body. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby girl.”
“Nah. Passion, loyalty, lust. These are all real, and when they hit at the same time, I guess it can kind of seem like love, but love is a bill of goods someone trying to sell. I suspect it’s ‘Big Greeting Card.’ They’re up to something.”
“Well, you’re drunk enough to be the philosopher king, I see.”
“But high functioning. Hey.”
She booped Blake on the head with her finger tip. “I’m team love. All the way. It exists. We all deserve it, and it can be rough and lonely and ugly, but it’s beautiful.”
“Everyone deserves it?”
“Every damn one.”
Blake abandoned the playful tone, and got a little introspective. “I don’t know if I do.”
She poked him gently in his bare chest with her big, red fingernail. “Especially you do.”
Blake tried to brush her finger tip away, but he wasn’t strong enough. She removed it anyway. “No. Hear me out: I think I’m fundamentally incapable of being loved. I’m not lovable. I’m lustable. Highly lustable, but not loveable. At this point, I’m a glorified sex toy for Gullis that cracks one-liners and drinks too much.”
“You vibrate?” She raised her eyebrows cheekily.
Blake shrugged his shoulders. “I wiggle.”
“Oh, Lord. What are you up to tomorrow, toy?” she asked?
“I dunno. Nurse a hangover, if I were a betting man.”
“You’re not going to the tiny rights march in the afternoon?”
“I didn’t know it was going on, but if I did, still probably not.”
“I’m going to it, and you’re not?” In an evening of assaying different emotions for fun, Abby truly looked at Blake with some incredulity.
“That’s a hostile question, but no.”
“Do you want to have less rights? You want me to own you?” Abby squinted at him.
“May-be. Is this in a naughty way, or am I just, like, doing housework?”
“Poor taste, little buddy.” She laughed anyway.
“I have many sources that state that I taste pretty good. Want to try me? I think the lingering chlorine vibe is gone. Hmmm? I’m de-liscious.” He tried to tempt her, but not really, but maybe…
“Blake, I’m serious.”
“I mean if you want me to stroll around this thing like some arm candy, or palm candy since you’ll likely be carrying me, I’m in. But, I’m not one for causes, good or otherwise. I’m not a joiner.”
“You’re only in it for yourself, huh?”
“That goes without saying. I’m not sure this isn’t all a case for Solipsism. I mean, are you real? A land with giant women in it? That doesn’t seem possible.”
“First of all, I’m normal. You’re tiny. And you want to know a secret? Philanthropy, caring about something bigger than yourself, makes you feel so fucking good.”
“I do care about something bigger than me.” Blake leaned forward, over the railing to boop the giantess’s nose. “You.”
“Who knew that party-boy, fun-time, sex-toy-man couldn’t take anything seriously in an ethical dilemma?"
“Hey, my ethical unpredictability, my seemingly random moral relativism, they’re proof that when I do something right, it’s not an accident, but a hard-won decision. I think that through every time.” He sounded like he was joking, but he really wasn’t.
The giantess rolled her luminous eyes that seemed to glow in the dark of the night, as she sat back against Blake’s house, getting much farther out of his bubble. She mumbled to herself, but definitely loud enough for Blake to hear, “Yeah. But I can fix him. I swear.” Then she said in her normal, soft but booming voice, “You know…After your bleak-ass take on love, and blasé take on activism, I think I need more. Got another one of these back there?” She grimaced as she killed the little bottle.
“You know I do.”
She reached farther back, stretching her arm and leaning over. “Jeez. How many stewardesses did you have over?”
“Enough.”
***
Blake Williamson Had three problems at the moment, the next day after his party:
1. He was very hungover, or was sure to be when he woke up.
2. He had a giant woman outside his house.
3. He had another giant woman outside his house.
In this case everything was relative. Not the hangover. That was incontrovertible. But the two giant women were merely human sized (we call them Gullis), but they lived among tiny people called Lillis, (and other Gullis) who were around the size of an action figure, one of the small ones, making the two giant women outside Blake’s house around 100’ tall give or take a dozen feet. There was also a race of giants compared to the humans, and very, very giant indeed to the tiny people, called Brobbis. But we’re not to them, yet.
Ok, if we’re honest, Blake had a fourth problem: He confirmed beyond a doubt to a woman he cared a lot for, maybe even loved, if there were such a thing, that he was a selfish asshole. She had hitherto merely suspected, but, if Blake remembered last night accurately, he alleviated any doubt.
For now, that was future-Blake’s problem. Very near future, but not right now.
The tiny man slumbered away in his soft bed, with a thick comforter, and silky sheets. It was late morning, but he was able to sleep in for once, as he didn’t have to go teach English. He was one to take advantage of his weekends.
He lived in the Lilli part of a multi-size town. His house was quite opulent, as property and construction were pretty cheap there for the tiny people. He had a mostly quiet life…mostly might be a stretch though: he was a professor at a local prep school for women to get them ready for college. This particular school was mixed size, in other words, though he was a Lili, he taught Gulli young women, 18 and up. Again, English, to be precise. To be more precise: Lit, Grammar, and Writing. Living in a mixed-size city was never boring. There was always something going on. And on this particular morning, something was going on right outside his bedroom window.
Two Gulli women loomed over his house, about twice the size of the three story affair.
Agent Nancy Archer looked like a cop. For, she sort of was. She was an agent in the Tiny Protection Task Force; as silly as that might sound, it was necesary. She dressed in the quintessential short skirt and long jacket. All in charcoal grey, with tan stockings, and black pumps. Her red hair blew slowly in the tiny breeze. Her pale skin already felt the sun. Her heels made it a bit tricky to walk in Blake’s soft yard, but they did do amazing things to her fit, impressive calves. Nevertheless, she felt guilty for leaving huge foot prints in the grass that he would have to replace later. She popped her foot out of her heel with a thwap suction noise, and then her other foot. It felt like heaven! She had only been wearing the heels a few hours, but her feet were already hot and a bit sore. Her bare feet still left quite the impression on Blake’s lawn, but not a hole as deep as the heel. She bent down to pick up those heels as she stood there. With the other hand, she unbuttoned a button on her shirt. It was hot out on that late spring day, and it felt freeing to give the girls a little more room.
Agent Amanda Zonn struck quite a different picture, as she was dressed to be able to go under cover at a moment’s notice, looking exactly the opposite of what a stereotypical cop looked like. And she hated wearing conservative clothes. She had a short leather jacket with spikes, a midriff-baring shirt that showed off a sparkly, pierced belly button in an incredibly toned, flat tummy as well as her large, firm breasts at the top, each standing out from her chest higher than a Lilli was tall. Her shirt also had silver spikes, but these were much smaller than her jacket. She wore a plaid, super short skirt (especially to be walking around the tiny part of town, towering over everyone), with silver chains as a belt that fell loosely over her skirt. And she wore stockings with thick black and white stripes that went into her patent leather boots that went up to her calf. Her blonde hair and flawless make up made her look hot but evil, or at least very above everything…pun sort of intended, but most of all, she looked bored. But you have to hand it to evil: it really knows how to do a smoky eye, glossy lips, and winged lashes. Her long, blonde hair fell down over her eyebrows in laser straight bangs, and well past her shoulders in length. Amanda, unlike her collegue, did not care in the slightest that her boots were royally fucking up Blake’s yard.
The two giantesses had been to this tiny man’s house several times. Usually on noise complaints, or having an unauthorized block party at first. He was a teacher, sure, but in his off hours, he appreciated a good Bacchanalia. In the beginning, the two were annoyed, but eventually saw it as a trifling type of annoyance not worth worrying about, and even started showing up at those block parties.
Nevertheless, their relationship with Blake, though cordial, was always a bit contentious. Certainly not adversarial, but more on the “frenemies” side of things. Blake wasn’t a bad guy, but he didn’t follow rules unless they morally aligned with what he wanted to do anyway. But the giant agents weren’t going to arrest a simple, noisy, scoff law with an aversion to authority.
In one vulnerable moment at a party, Nancy asked him about ‘were they friends, were they just acquaintances, were they just acquaintances’? She happened to be drunk, and kind of in the “I love you man” mode. Her giant green eyes hovered close to his tiny, mischievous eyes. Those eyes of her’s were luminous and glassy both with booze.
“Why don’t you like us very much? Is it because we’re big?”
Blake looked at her and quoted a tiny poet, named Bukowski: “I don’t hate cops. I just feel better when they’re not around.” He laughed at his own cleverness.
She looked really sad, and Blake realized that maybe she didn’t know that was a quote. Not everyone took his English Lit class, after all. He walked to the edge of his balcony and reached out his hand to her cheek. She was beautiful, no doubt. She opened her eyes wider. A tear drop fell, and Blake took his little hand and wiped it away, even though it encompassed his whole hand. He noted that this was kind of a reverse Romeo and Juliet balcony scene, but…thought better of bringing up another literary reference. Especially one in which they were both teenagers who only knew each other a week and died in the end.
“Nancy. I don’t dislike you. Not even a little. We’re both just really different people, and that’s ok. Different people can be friends.” He leaned in closer to her, caught in the moment, and consumed by her nearness. He could barely see her eyes, and could feel her breath from her nose and mouth…spicy cinnamon, like her hair. “Different people can be…more than friends.” Blake was quite drunk too, and though he was tiny, his libido was not.
Nancy took this cue to move her face even more over his balcony, close to him. Her chin almost hit the wood of the planking that made up the floor of the deck, as the railing pushed into her neck, creaking a little as she tested its strength. Her lips gently moved into Blake’s tiny body and they kissed, or what could pass for kissing in this world. To them. it was better than a same-size kiss, and Nancy knew she never wanted it to end.
“Come on Drunky McDrunkerson! We gotta go.” Amanda pulled Nancy up. Blake stuck to her lips and was raised in the air for a disorienting few seconds. He fell to the deck, breathless and with a large, red lipstick stain on his clothes. Blake waved bye.
Nancy looked back at Blake and waved a weak little wave, as Amanda pulled her out of the Lili part of town. They were as careful as two giant drunk girls could be, and fortunately, no damage to life or property occurred.
That was some time ago, many parties on Blake’s block, some the two giant women attended, some not. No more near kisses happened between Blake and Nancy. They both thought about it more than a few times though.
And that leaves us to now: two giant women standing outside Blake’s house.
“Do we just knock on the roof?” Nancy whispered.
“I think that might draw a little much attention,” Amanda sarcastically replied. “Let’s just look and see if he’s in there in the first place. I think his bedroom is…” Her finger traced the windows of his house till she landed on two wall-to-ceiling windows on the second story. They were both relieved they didn’t have to crouch to the ground floor. “...there!”
The two bent at the waist, looking around, trying to be as stealthy as approximately 100 foot tall women could be. They crouched behind the house, but their asses both stuck up in the air, and were visible on the street from the other side of the roof. With their faces pressed together, they both could look into the big (by Lili standards) windows.
They saw Blake in bed, his comforter down on his stomach, exposing a good part of his bare upper body.
“Ugh. He has his shirt off…again,” Amanda groaned.
“Yeah. He’s sleeping. Do you sleep with a shirt on?”
“Yeah, or at least a sports bra. Or my tits would flop all over the place.”
“I like when mine flop…Ok, not the point.”
“Alright, floppy, what next?”
At that moment Blake rolled over facing the giantesses, and let out a cute, little coo as he snuggled in the covers. Amanda shot up immediately as Nancy stayed down, looking in the window with an “awwwww” look on her face.
“Dude! Get up here before he sees us looking in,” Amanda said with a whisper that could be heard a few blocks away.
“No. I think he’s still asleep. It is pretty early for him on the weekend.”
Amanda lowered back down to look in the window, as she smushed her face against Nancy’s again. “How do you know that, and how do you know THAT?” This isn’t the first time you spied on him, is it? You know, just because you’re hot doesn’t mean that isn’t creepy.”
“AHEM!”
The duo heard an exaggerated throat clear from the other side of the house, out in the tiny street. They shot up to stand straight. Nancy looked guilty. Amanda looked kind of bored, as is her vibe usually.
A young woman stood in the street, eyeing them with a raised eyebrow. She wore stylish but very well worn, thin leather sandals, dark grey yoga workout shorts, and a black sports bra or maybe it was a short, lycra tank top. Hard to tell these days. She also carried a purse, for it looked like she had zero pockets.
“What are you two doing? I mean, to my untrained eye, it looks like you’re peeping toms invading a tiny person’s privacy. Looking in his windows.”
Nancy: “NO!” Amanda: “Yes”. At the same time. Then Nancy admitted: “Yes.”
“Why? Is he hot, or something?” she asked.
Nancy: “Yes” Amanda: “No” at the same time. Then Amanda groaned and relented, “Yes.”
The new Gulli girl said, “Oooo! Let me get in on that action.” She started walking around the house, to the back yard from the street.
Nancy looked off to the side and murmured, as she shook her head. “No. Don’t…Ok, you’re doing it.”
In the distracting commotion up above, Blake walked onto the back balcony that connected to his bedroom, unbeknownst to the giant women, who looked everywhere but down at mid-shin level. He stood there in loose-fitting boxers that hid his modesty, but made it easy to imagine what he was working with.
Bleary eyed, Blake looked way up at the towering women. “Ladies. What…may I ask…the hell?”
The two agents were about to speak, while the newly arrived girl looked guilty and swayed back and forth. She averted her gaze and looked up in the sky.
Blake looked up at all the towering women…a sight he was well accustomed to. He could see a little up Nancy’s skirt, and definitely could see up Amanda’s as she stared down at him with an indifferent look. The third woman, a good several feet taller (On Blake’s scale) than the other two, wore such tight-fitting clothes, that his imagination didn’t need to work hard.
Blake raised a finger to cut the two giant agents off. And it worked. A lot of gravitas for a tiny guy to cut two giantesses off. “No. Save it. Whatever it is, it’s too early for this. Now, you two,” pointing to the agents, “I expect shenanigans from you two, and by the way, you hid from me by standing up? I could still see your legs through the window, you Gulli goofballs. If you don’t respect my privacy, respect my hangover. And that brings us to you…who the hell even are you?”
It was then that the new towering girl actually looked down at Blake. Her eyes squinted as she scrutinized the tiny man. She bent at the waist and bent her knees to get closer to his level. Her long legs had to work hard to lower herself that much. She had to be 6’1” on her scale. She brushed her brunette hair out of her blue eyes, and tried to get lower still, eventually landing on one knee that pounded in Blake’s yard. A soft trembling thud shook his house, yet again, and when he looked back up at the girl, her breasts were almost touching his balcony. She looked confused. And then her eyes lit up. “Professor Williamson?” She bent down closer still, like a towering mountain avalanching on him. It was almost like she was doing a yoga pose while at the same time, her face now filled Blake’s view.
It startled him. He involuntarily backed up. He squished his eyes closed instinctively.
“Uh…” The usually acerbic Blake manages to squeak out.
“It really is you! Do you remember me…?” She asked expectantly.
Blake opened his eyes to attempt to look through the sun squints and sleep boogers. Then it hit him. “Maddie? Maddie from Survey of English Lit II?”
“Ding, ding, ding! Give the man a prize. Wow. Never saw you sporting this look in school. So…what weird shit is going on here?”
“First may I ask, ‘were you peeping in my window too?’”
“No,” she said defensively. “But I was gonna.” She went on, “I didn’t know it was you. I just saw these two doing it, and I thought…oh, there’s no way to paint this so I look good.” She laughed. And then she looked down at the scantily clad action figure of a man and decided to shoot her shot. “Hey, I was just about to get some coffee. You want to come with?”
“I could go for some coffee. You did graduate, and you are over 18, right?”
She nodded and placed her hand on the deck for him to climb on. He scampered on her perfectly manicured hand, with gleaming white nails. Her fingers were smooth and warm. He crawled the rest of the way in the center of her palm and sat down. He gave her the thumbs up. She lifted him about belly button height. She turned around and started walking toward a cafe down the street.
“Wait. We need you!” Nancy spoke at her normal volume now.
“Wait! You need to put on clothes before you go get coffee. They’re all No shirt, no shoes, no service.” Amanda also said, half jokingly.
Maddie now had Blake in the palm of her hand. She looked down at him as if to ask what he wanted to do.
“Uuugh. Spin around. Let’s hear what they want.”
Maddie sighed and did as Blake asked.
“Make it quick, you two.” Blake crossed his arms across his bare chest.
Amanda glared at Maddie.”First of all, can we trust her?”
“With my life,” Blake said, “Yeah. I had her as a student. Always a good kid. Never got in trouble, good grades, was able to recite the first 16 lines of the Canterbury Tales in Middle English–”
“Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote–” Maddie beamed.
“Good girl, Not now though.” Blake said while patting her toned stomach behind him.
Maddie shimmied and cooed, jokingly.
“Ok. Fine; we don’t have a lot of time.” Amanda facepalmed. Blake could tell, it was killing her that she needed something from him. But what?
Nancy remained more calm, but there was an underlying current of urgency. She levelled a wary gaze that may contain a hint of jealousy at Maddie. She shook her head to get it back in the game. “Ok. Blake. We have gotten reliable intel that there is a black market tiny abduction and selling ring–tiny trafficking. And we need your help to stop it.”
From above, Maddie sadly said, “Oh NO! Those poor tinies. Who would do that?”
Amanda chimed in, in her usual deadpan. “That’s what we would like to know. We need Blake to be our inside man.”
Maddie chuckled at the innuendo, jiggling her hand and Blake.
Nancy continued, “You see, Blake, we want to put a tracker on you, and let you get kidnapped by the smugglers.”
“What!” Blake and Maddie both said at the same time. Maddie instinctually held Blake closer to her belly, protectively cupping him right against her belly button.
Blake looked around dazedly, wondering how the morning took such a turn. “I have so many follow up questions…a little tight there, Maddie.”
She whispered, “Sorry,” and loosened her protective grip.
“Thanks. As I was saying, so many follow up questions.”
“It would be weird if you didn’t,” Amanda said.
“Why me? I pride myself in not being a rat. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”
“Even with tiny kidnappers? Blake, they crush them, eat them, do crazy things. And that’s just the ones who end up with the Gullis. If you are in the possession of a Brobi…I shudder to think.” Nancy shuddered for effect.
“Ok, but…why me?…the original question still stands.”
“You fit the profile,” Amanda said.
“The profile?”
“You are young-ish, reasonably fit, and…” Amanda was searching for the words.
“You’re a smoke show, little guy,” Maddie helped.
Amanda sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but you…”
“Fit the profile. Gotcha. I feel like such a piece of meat, and I don’t hate that,” Blake said.
Nancy pulled out her phone and brought it closer to Blake and subsequently to Maddie’s taught belly. Her caring, kind eyes, looked at her phone, then back to Blake, and back to the phone. “Ok, on this map, we have identified hotspots where these tiny-nappings have happened. We have picked this one for you. Here. We need you to go in loud, pretend to be drunk, and make a scene. You leave the bar, try to stumble home through a dark alley, and Bob’s your uncle.”
“Fuck me. It must be my bad ear, but did I hear you just, did…you…just ‘Bob’s your uncle’ the part where I get tiny-napped?” Blake asked in surprise. “What happens after that?” Blake asked.
“We’re still working on that part.” Nancy admitted.
Blake and Maddie both exclaimed in disbelief.
Amanda lowered to Blake’s level. To the casual observer, it may look like the two women were talking to Maddie’s belly as if she were expecting.
“Look, man.” Amanda squinted her blue eyes, clearly frustrated. “We know we have to move quick on this one. You’re the tiny man we happen to know the best, and yes you are…reasonably, like medium hot, with the abs, and pecs, and the not skipping leg day, and the face card, and, uh, so we need you to do this. You’ll save a lot of tiny lives.” Amanda looked with more emotion than she ever displayed on her face–which still wasn’t a lot. She hung there, her blonde hair dangling, blowing close to hitting Blake from the wind.”
“Well, after giving your very well-thought out plan some consideration: pass.”
“What?” Amanda could barely contain her shock. “I think that’s pretty messed up, dude.”
“I’m not interested in what you think, but thanks for sharing. Maybe try some other tiny cannon fodder?”
“It is crazy that you don’t want to save people your size.” Nancy said, more disappointed than angry.
“My self-loathing will be the balm that soothes me, as I safely sit at home and masturbate. No window peeking. Ok. You can. I don’t mind.”
If Maddie hadn’t been holding Blake in her cupped hand, he would not have been able to get the bird’s eye view of the march for Lilli rights several blocks away: hundreds of Lillis and about a dozen Gullis trying not to step on them, marched through the streets. One of them was Abby. She held a sign that read, “Tiny people are people too.” Her honey colored hair flowed in slow motion behind her as she marched with the crowd. She wore last night’s outfit, suggesting she might be hungover too. Her favorite brown, leather sandals, the ones leaning against Blake’s house not 10 hours before, shuffled along slowly, so the tiny people could keep up, and so they wouldn’t get squished, because her squishing tiny people at a tiny rights march…well let’s just say, “Irony” isn't a defense that would stand up in court.
Blake sat down, more like collapsed on his butt in Madddie’s hand. “You know what? Fuck it. I’m in. Let’s save some tiny asses. Can I get some coffee with Maddie first though? I got a head like a bastard tomcat.” Maddie moved one of her thumbs to start caressing his chest as he sat there.
Nancy said, “Yes. Make it quick! Oh…I deputize you into the Tiny Protection Task Force.”
Nancy asked, “Why did you change your mind?”
Blake looked at Abby in the far distance, as she towered over everything, at least as hungover as he was, but still made it to the march.
“And they say, Blake’s heart grew three sizes that day,” he said, offering a non-answer.
“Yeah. But that’s the alcoholism,” Amanda replied, and then with exasperation said, “Seriously dude, go put some clothes on.”
***
Blake walked up to the ladder that helps him get on top of his Gulli-sized desk, on the first day of teaching at the prep school. The ladder was missing a few rungs from the middle. “They were supposed to fix this,” he muttered.
Nevertheless, he thought he could manage. He was a pretty spry, nimble guy. He started climbing slowly but surely, trying to tune out the creaking noises the ladder made. As he climbed several inches off the ground, the rung he stepped on broke. He looked down as it plummeted to the ground, far below. “Am I that heavy? I can’t go any lower carb, for fuck’s sake!”
He dangled there, hoping that the rung he hung from didn’t break. He tried to reach his foot down to the rung below the one that broke, but not happening. He hung there from the ladder, dangerously far up, thinking about his life decisions. Whenever he tried something outrageous and wild, it usually worked out for him. When he tried to do something responsible and conservative, it so very often went bad. Like now.
Blake heard loud clacks on the tile floor, out in the halfway. A woman’s voice said, “Whoa. You OK there, little guy?”
“Yep. Right as rain. Just doing my pullups for the day. I think I’m done, so if you wanted to come over and scoop me up and put me on the desk, I wouldn’t complain one bit.”
The woman that Blake still couldn’t see replied as she walked up to him with the same clacking sound from the hallways, but getting louder as she approached, and shaking the ground, which wasn’t ideal for Blake, as he hung there.
“Well. As long as you don’t mind. The sign clearly says, “Don’t pick up Mr. Williamson without permission”.” she said.
“You know, not only do I not mind, I insist you don’t rob yourself of this life-experience.” Long, soft, but powerful fingers wrapped around him and under him so gently. He signed relief. Looks like he could save being a splat on the tile floor for another day.
“Ok. I think you can let go now.”
Blake did as she said. He sat there in her comforting palm. She set him in the middle of his desk, the first time he had been up there, in fact. He looked out over the huge classroom, at the empty school desk chairs. He still couldn’t see this mystery woman with the kind voice, soft touch, and the eagle eye that spotted the tiny man in trouble from the hallway. No mean feat.
The woman walked behind the desk and sat in the big person chair. He walked back to his much smaller chair, at his much smaller desk that sat atop the big people desk. “My name is ‘Ms. Emmons’. I teach at the class next door. Feel free to call me Abby. And who are you?”
Blake’s breath got taken away. Abby was so beautiful. Spellbinding blue eyes, smooth skin with a couple cute, fist-size moles, and a kind, but playful expression on her full lips. “Mr. Williamson, as the numerous signs say, but I hate that. Blake will do.”
“Technically, we’re supposed to call each other by our last names, while in school, but outside of school, game on. We can use first names, nicknames, pet names, derogatory names, the wrong names if we forget each other's names. All the names.”
“Ok, you lost me about half way through, but something about names, right? So what do you teach?”
“English, mostly writing.”
“Me too, or to be grammatically correct, so do I,” Blake said with a haughty demeanor.
Abby leaned back, feigning being impressed. “Look at the little guy flexing on his first day.” She picked up papers off of Blake’s desk that were scaled to her size and started fanning herself, as if she were getting hot and bothered. Some of the breeze knocked Blake out of his chair.
Abby stopped fanning immediately, and leaned forward to check on him. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Save you from one tragedy, cause another one for you.” She offered her gigantic, feminine finger for Blake to pull himself back up.
He said, “Not a tragedy. Minor inconvenience. An inconvenience that hurt my coccyx, but I shall soldier on.”
“Again, really sorry. Hey, give me your number.” She pulled out her phone and waited expectantly.
“Damn. You move quick. Usually women buy me a few drinks before we get to that stage.”
“First of all, “quickly,” grammar-boy. And second, that ladder ain’t gonna fix itself, and neither are the custodians here, at least not right away. So, text me when you need to get down.”
Blake started moving his shoulders and rolling his hips to scoot the chair he sat in. “I’m always ready to get down. Chair dance with me, Abby. Set yourself free.”
Abby rolled her eyes, but chair dance, she did, nonetheless.
After this went on for a while, Blake stopped suddenly. “And now the moment has passed.”
Abby stopped too. “So, little guy, what do you do for fun?”
“Me, well…not much, well a lot, maybe too much on occasion, but a lot of the same things. I write. Got a book coming out, which is good because I could use the other half of my publishing advance. I have little parties at my house. No big deal. I hit the bars. Not much else. One time, this Gulli talked me into white water rafting with her, and I didn’t like that at all. So, I’m for about anything as long as it’s not that.” Blake got a text. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but Abby cleared up the mystery quickly.
She looked up from her phone. “Now you have my number, so you can invite me to those parties, and bars, and writing too. We could go have a writing session. Like in a cafe, like total cliches” She leaned in with an exaggerated wink of her beautiful eye. “Didja notice how I invited myself? Didja? Didja?”
“You did? I must have missed it on account of you being all subtle-like.”
“I thought I was being subtle.”
“I guess it’s just easier to read giant, pretty faces, because I saw right through you.”
“Did you just call me pretty, little man?”
“Maybe…maybe not though too. Who can say?” Blake winced at his faux pas. “Do we have to get HR involved on my first day?”
“No. On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Hmmmm. Let me think about it. So you wrote a book?”
Blake walked back to his desk. He grabbed the book, and walked back to the giantess. “I did. I have a galley proof, to prove it. Proof positive. Hey, look. That’s me on the back.”
“Honestly, Blake, you could be holding up any damn thing. I can’t see that little book.” This didn’t stop her from trying. She leaned in almost close enough to touch Blake with the aforementioned pretty face, as she squinted. With her face still very close to Blake, she turned to him and said, “I know what my condition is now.”
“Name it.”
“You have to come out for drinks with me tonight.” She lowered her voice so she wouldn’t hurt Blake’s ears.
“Just me and you, or are we meeting the gang?”
“Just you.” She pointed at him. “And me.” She pointed at herself.
“Well, if it will make this whole HR debacle go away, I suppose I can do it.”
“It will. And, in fairness, I was checking out your ass when you bent over to get your book.”
Blake feigned shock. The bell rang. The giantess stood up, her long, lean body rising like a rocket taking off, and she headed to her class next door. But, she paused at the door, and looked back and waved at Blake and winked at him.
A sea of giant women in school uniforms zoomed around the in the hall.