Giantess World
A Tough Night
By NFalc
Part Three
Above me, the girl gasped. Falling back against the car seat, I gasped. I hadn't put this much effort into things in a long time. I think it was that whole thing about not being able to pop her cherry - I'd taken it as a challenge. You think I'm just a small fry? I'll show you who's boss.
"Is that it?" She asked, staring down at me.
So much for that. I just couldn't win tonight. "Yeah, that's all folks," I said, stretching backwards. Truth was, I was totally tuckered out. Dollface: two, Max: zip.
"Well, it was nice while it lasted," she says, and looks back at the road. I'm such a shrimp that I can't really climb over her thigh, so I just curl up between her legs and watch as she drives. She's a looker, but I've got a job to do.
"Can you take me down to the docks?" I call up to her.
"What are you going to do down at the docks, sweetie?" She says, big brown peepers staring at the road. "Lots of big, bad men down there. You should come on home with me instead."
For a second, I can't help but smirk to myself - so I did do somethin' after all! - but I don't like where the conversation's going. I may be a midget, but I'm still a man, and this whole mother-knows-best act ain't gonna cut it. Now, to put my powers of persuasion to work. "Honey, I really, really gotta get to the docks tonight. I've got work to do."
Her lips seal together so tight it'd take a crowbar to open them. Not a good sign.
"Please, lady? I did everything you wanted me to, it's only fair."
She takes one huge finger and shoves it in my face. "Shhh," she says, "We're going home."
Now, under any other circumstances I might not mind playing sex slave for a pretty twenty-year old gal, but I had a job to do. Plus, if I didn't get to the bottom of this mess, I might never make it back to my normal height. So I did the only thing I could in my situation. I wrapped my arms around her finger, opened wide and bit down.
"Ouch!" The girl shrieked, waving her hand up and down and tossing me about like a ragdoll. Distracted, she swerved left and right down the road while I was tossed about like a tugboat in a typhoon. I heard the squeal of brakes. "Get it off, get off, get off!" She screamed. Then, with one huge wave of her arm, I found myself flying out into space. She'd tossed me right out the window.
I hit the pavement like a ton of bricks, then roll to the side as her massive tires squeal off into the night. Crazy broad. She had it coming to her, treating me like a toy. I spit in the grass as I make my way off the road.
I scramble up a small hill which is the size of a mountain to me, and look out into the dark, steamy city night. Just off to my right, I can see the water rippling, the overhead lights and warehouses of the Docks. For once, a bit of luck comes my way. I'm just a block over from the waterfront. Of course, with my newly stubby legs, it'll take me a while to get there. I sigh as I start walking, and hope that I'm on the right track.
***
Two minutes have passed before Grace is able to talk to the little man cowering in her palm. "H-hello there," She says hesitantly. "Who are you?"
The tiny person takes his head out of his hands and looks up at her meekly. "What are you going to do with me?" he asks.
"I asked you first," she says gently.
"My name... my name is Ritchie Nichols, and I used to be an insurance salesman. Well, I'd only had my job for a day when this happened to me. I thought I had everything all figured out: other people aim low, head out to suburbia. Me, I thought I'd go door to door at the Hollywood mansions. If you sucker one of the rich and powerful, think about how big a commission you'd get!"
As the little man got more absorbed in his story, he became more confident. "So I came up to Dodgson's house, thinking she'd be a good target. Rich widow, probably paranoid. I could nail her for a huge coverage plan. The butler opens the door, and I ask to see Miss Elizabeth. He says that I certainly can, sits me down in a chair. Suddenly, I feel really drowsy, and I can't help it, I fall asleep.
"Next thing you know, I'm three feet tall, and that - crazy - bitch..."
Without any warning, the man bursts into tears. Grace feels a sudden urge to comfort the poor thing; he looks like he's been through a lot. She raises a hand to stroke him, and he doesn't flinch away. "You don't have to tell me any more, Ritchie. It's okay..."
Suddenly, the little man looks straight at the door. "She's coming. Quick, hide!"
Grace hastily lowers Ritchie to the floor, then clumsily scuttles under the massive bed. She flattens herself out, tries to slow her heartbeat and quiet her loud, panicked breathing. She positions herself so she can see out into the room beyond.
A pair of dark leather high heels stride confidently out into the room. She hears a woman's voice, arch and aristocratic. "How's our newest little one doing?"
Ritchie doesn't respond. He slowly walks out into Grace's field of vision, hanging his head and staring at the carpet.
The woman walks forward until she is standing directly over the little guy. Grace, having an almost identical viewpoint two inches off the ground, can sympathize with the poor man. The woman towers over him, utterly dominating. When she kneels down, Grace almost gasps, imagining the scene from Ritchie's perspective. Those huge thighs plunging down from the sky...
"Come on, little bug, you've got a job to do," the woman says imperiously.
She extends her hand, and the little man climbs on. Then, without any warning, the woman plunges her hand into the crotch of her silk stockings, rubbing herself violently. With a shock, Grace realizes the little man is still in her palm. She's using him as she masturbates. Grace closes her eyes, but she can still hear the woman moan with pleasure. She imagines she can hear Ritchie's screams.
After what seems like an eternity, it's over, and Grace opens her eyes to see Ritchie, sopping wet and bedraggled, kneeling on the woman's hand, which is once more just above her lap, within Grace's sight.
"Wasn't that fun?" The woman says. "Now, what do you say afterwards, little bug?"
"Thank you, Elizabeth."
"Good pet." She pats him on the head with a finger. It looks like it's enough to cause a concussion. Then she places Ritchie back on the ground, and stands up, walking to the exit.
"James, have we heard from Marilyn yet? I do hope she returns soon, she hasn't been back in ages..."
The door shuts softly, and Grace can breathe once more.
***
By the time I've reached the docks, I feel like I've run a mile or two, which in fact is probably pretty close to the mark. I lean on the rusty corrugated metal of a boathouse, and take a minute to catch my breath. That's when it hits me again, that old familiar feeling.
When I look around now, I barely come up to the boathouse's doorstep. I must be six inches tall. At this height, I won't even be able to save myself, much less handle any dangerous circumstances. Lucky for me, I'm not a cop, I'm a detective. All I've got to do is snoop around, and at my present height that should be easy. Provided some alley cat doesn't decide to make me his lunch, first.
I hear noises coming from the door behind me. Nobody should be out this late. Then again, it is the docks. Still, on a hunch, I look around for a way in. There it is, a gap the size of Kansas between two sheets of rust-covered siding. I carefully crawl my way in, and take a hiding spot behind a large shipping crate.
There, in the middle of the room, are my two old friends, Loretta and Katya. They don't look too good - Katie's got a nasty cut above her eye, and some bruises. Loretta, well Loretta's had the tables turned on her. She's been tied with duct tape to a chair, and someone's kicked a fair bit of the snot outta her. My bet is that the Russian broad saw to it personally.
"Don't make me ask you again," Katya says in a tone of voice that suggests that she's willing to rough her up a good deal more if she has to. Or maybe even if she doesn't have to. "Where the hell is the shrinking potion?"
"I told you, I don't have it any more," Loretta says bitterly. She doesn't seem to be happy to be on the receiving end of punishment.
"I shipped you two dozen cases of it," says Katya, baring her teeth in a vicious grimace. "Did they suddenly vanish?"
"I don't have them." That's all she says.
Katya pauses a moment before whipping her hand backwards, smacking Loretta so hard that blood wells up in the corner of her lip. "Then tell me who does."
"I do," says a woman's voice off to the right. I can't see her from this angle, but her voice sounds awfully familiar.
"You?" Katya asks, surprised. "What the hell are you two doing here?"
***
Grace rushes out of her hiding place on her hands and knees, almost on top of the little guy, (and probably, she realizes, scaring him half to death) before she gently sweeps him to her cheek.
"You poor man," she says, nuzzling him. "You must have been through so much."
He strokes her much larger cheek. "I'm okay," he says, "You learn to deal with it."
She kisses him quietly, feeling an immense desire to comfort the miserable thing. She whispers to him, "I'll get you out of here. We'll tell the police about her, and she'll be arrested, and I'll keep you safe." She doesn't know how she'll do it, but she's sure going to try.
"That won't work," Ritchie says, shaking his tiny head. "People like her, they don't function within the same society we do. They're above the law. If we accused her, she'd either pay her way out or use her lawyers. Sure, we'd cause a scandal, but she'd come back and get us in the end."
"There has to be some way," Grace says desperately, as she takes out a clean kerchief and begins to wipe away some of the mess that the little man is covered in. "I won't let her keep you here like this."
"I'm not the only one. She's got more of them spread around the house. In fact, I'm not normally even hers..."
"We'll free the others too," Grace says with absolute determination and certainty. "All we have to do... What we really need is some concrete evidence."
She watches him closely as he drums his fingers on his chin, a cute miniature pantomime of thought. Then he suddenly waves his arms in excitement. "I've got it!" he says. "Her diary. She keeps a record of everything she does, or so I've heard. It's lying on the desk in her bedroom. All we'll have to do is snatch it, and we'll have all the evidence we'll need! If we released it to the press, they'd be crawling all over the story, and then we've got a good shot of getting all the men released..."
"Where's the bedroom?" Grace asks.
Just as Ritchie begins to explain, they both hear the noise, and turn to see the bedroom door open...
***
Loretta looks towards whoever is off to the right, and smiles cruelly. "They're the ones you want, Katya. They took everything I had."
"Is this true?" Asks Katya, her voice perfectly neutral.
"Quite frankly," the third woman says airily, "Neither of you were using the shrinking potion to the correct ends. Shrinking your enemies may be your tactic, Katya, and selling the potion at a premium may be yours, Loretta. But both of you miss the point. The point is in the simple pleasures that can be derived from its use. So, yes, we took the potion. We had to; we were the only ones who knew the right way to distribute it."
Right now, the thing I want most is to leap around the crate's edge and see who this third woman is. Her voice is so familiar that her identity is itching at the back of my mind, like a mosquito bite that I've gotta scratch. She's the key to the case...
Unfortunately, Katya takes this moment to pull out her hand cannon. "Stupid American cow," she sneers, "You can talk all the philosophy you want. Unless you hand over every last canister of the potion, I'll pump you so full of lead they'll have to keep the casket closed at your funeral."
"If that's the way you want it," the woman says, and I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Katya begins firing all over the place, her lip trembling with rage, eyes burning like lit newspaper from her fury.
Firefights always make me start shitting bricks; the fact that the fighters were about twelve times my size didn't help too much either. The loud noises make it hard for me to think straight, so I duck between crates and start running around like a confused rodent trying to escape an exterminator. Running blindly away from the shooting, there's a sudden motion in front of me, and I turn to see Loretta's immense face come crashing down right in my path. "Holy shit!" she screams, the wind from that big mouth of hers almost knocking me over.
I turn and run as she heaves herself towards me, still bound to the chair. Bullets continue to fly through the air and I can't tell if anybody's winning, and suddenly I hear sirens in the distance.
"The police!" The familiar voice cries out.
"Let's finish this right now," Katya says, her tone murderous.
"Have it your way," The third woman says, and fires two shots. I hear Katya groan behind me, dark liquid leaking down the front of her black jumpsuit. I see her slump, then turn back again and keep running.
Suddenly, I round a bend and can't see any cover. There, standing at the doorway, are the other two who had entered the room. And now I see why they were so familiar. With the summer moonlight shining on her face, Marilyn Dodgson looks even more beautiful than she did in my office. And right next to her is the guy in the gray fedora and trenchcoat.
"The cops are here," Marilyn says quietly. Somewhere behind us, Loretta is still ranting and raving.
"Do you think we have time to get away?" Trenchcoat asks. And the thing is, although his voice is towards the deeper side, it sure as hell ain't deep enough.
"Not without them seeing us," Marilyn says. She takes Trenchcoat's hand. And each hand has nails polished a different color.
"Let's do it, babe," Trenchcoat says, taking off the fedora. Long, silky brown hair flows loose down to her (yes, her) shoulders.
I stand speechless for a minute as each pull out huge Tommy guns, and head for the door. Then, I realize that by the time they're gone, it'll be just me and the police.
Well, she wanted me to tail the one in the trenchcoat. It's time for me to do my job.