GOES AROUND

GOES AROUND

GOES AROUND - pt. 1

by Aborigen

It was 11pm in Nick's apartment, the sky dark outside and a cold wind battering

at the old panes. The TV was mainly on for background noise, showing some

"World's Worst Culinary Disasters" documentary or something, largely ignored by

the two people in the living room. Nick and his girlfriend Elisa were at it

again - though very in love with each other, there were a couple points of

irreconcilable contention between them, usually revolving around physical

expressions of affection. Each tended to blow the other argument up into

something larger, forcing the other to defend a ridiculous situation that bore

little relevance to the original issue.

"You seem to believe in absolute equality," Nick repeated, rubbing his temples,

"while I'm trying to tell you I believe in balance, and they're not necessarily

the same thing."

"I believe in balance too," Elise said quietly.

"No, let me explain. Your ideal relationship would be one in which both partners

are equally matched in capability, weaknesses and strengths?"

"Yes, equality everywhere."

"But if each one of them is a capable individual, why would they need to be in a

relationship at all?"

Elise narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you saying?"

Nick got up from the floor and joined her on the loveseat, where she sat with

her feet tucked up beneath her. She was wearing a large, oversized sweater that

made him want to drop everything and just cuddle her, but some sterile, rational

part of him insisted on being understood. "I'm not saying we should break up!"

he assured her, holding her hand. "I'm saying that I believe in balance:

partners have different strengths, different weaknesses that work around each

other. Sometimes one person's in control, sometimes the other one is."

Elise shook her head, and her auburn hair shimmered in the dim apartment

lighting. Nick's fuses had been blowing lately, so he back on candles whenever

possible. "I can't accept being tied up. I can't see how that's an expression of

affection at all," she said, raising her voice. Though six inches shorter than

him, Elise had a personal presence that put nearly everyone off-balance. Not

that she was hostile, but she was remarkably self-assured and didn't cater to

people's insecurities or sensitivities. Her slender hands rested on the knees of

her black jeans, and her grey sweater looked almost ochre in the candlelight.

Nick wore a black t-shirt over a long-sleeve grey jersey, and black jeans as

well. He unlaced his combat boots as he composed his thoughts. "I know where you

come from, I know your history about being tied up."

She sighed. "It wasn't as dramatic as that. I just tried it with an

ex-boyfriend, and it didn't work out. I didn't like being helpless, and I didn't

want him helpless beneath me. I believe both people should be in control at all

times. Your issue with domination and submission is really disturbing, Nick."

He looked over at her thoughtfully. "I don't think it's disturbing. I'm just

tired of being in control all the time. I'd really like someone else to take

charge; and before you say it, no, it's not enough to agree to be in charge. I

really want someone to overpower me, overwhelm me; that's what I like about my

giantess fetish."

This was a recent area of discussion for them, ever since his 'Towering

Temptresses' catalog came in the mail. Elise found it lying around and went

through its pages, progressively more unsettled by everything she found until

she could sit him down and ask him what it was about. She could understand being

obsessed with women's bodies, she could even understand objectification to a

certain extent, but the predominant theme of women aggressively dominating women

truly disturbed her and she couldn't accept it. She asked Nick to just keep it

away from her, keep that part of his life to himself, and he agreed to that.

"I can't talk about this anymore tonight, Nick," she said. "I'm going out for a

cigarette." Nick couldn't permit smoking in his apartment, so Elise would light

up outside, at the front of the building.

"Want me to come with you?" he asked - he didn't like her being alone in his

low-income neighborhood.

She shook her head, and again her hair bounced and lofted in the warm apartment

atmosphere. "I need to be alone for a few minutes, sort this all out." She

pulled her shoes on, slipped into her jacket, and locked the apartment door

behind her as she left.

Nick sighed heavily and leaned back in the loveseat, truly frustrated. He didn't

feel the need to bring Elise into his sordid fantasies - sometimes they made him

feel dirty and callous, and he never wanted to associate that feeling with her.

However, it was still a tremendously powerful erotic force, one he was unwilling

to give up simply because his girlfriend couldn't reconcile with it. He lit up

some incense and set it next to the candle on the steamer trunk that served as a

coffee table, and curled up sideways on the loveseat to try to calm down.

He dozed for just a moment, so briefly that Elise hadn't returned from her smoke

break, but when he opened his eyes he saw the incense had wafted up into a cloud

above the candle. The candlelight illuminated the cloud, and for a moment he

thought it had taken the shape of a woman's face.

Nick sat up and stared into the cloud, and then he knew it was a woman's face.

It was two feet across and three feet high, nearly transparent and slightly

shifting as the incense caught every tiny breeze in the apartment. The face was

evenly balanced and finely-sculpted, with high cheekbones, full lips, and a

stern gaze that bore down upon him. The apparition seemed to open its lips and

exhale.

"You've got to be kidding me," Nick said flatly, as the world rushed up around

him. The loveseat cushion spread outward in all directions, the weave of its

fabric thickening and bulking up beneath him. His shirts welled up around him

and billowed to the cushion, nearly empty but for a tiny, naked man sitting up

in near (but hardly complete) surprise. His jeans draped over the edge of the

loveseat and onto the hardwood floor. As Nick crawled out of the neck of his

shirt, he saw the smoky apparition dissipate into thin air, just as Elise

slipped the key in the lock of his door to let herself inside.

Nick watched his girlfriend enter, gazing far overhead. Her normally slight body

now took on a monumental proportion and moved massively through the air, like a

flying skyscraper or something like that. Nick shook his head at this ridiculous

situation, getting inexplicably shrunk down by some mysterious mystical force,

for his girlfriend to find him. And find him she did, eventually. She shed her

jacket and tossed it onto the arm of the loveseat, nearly burying him in

leather. She pulled off her shoes and sat down on the loveseat where she'd been

before - he saw her full hips expand above him as she bent over, and then she

sat down in slow motion. His heart raced as her buttocks stretched the black

denim like two massive planetary spheres, perfect and inviting in their

roundness, as they descended from the heavens to strike near him. Their

collision with the cushion rocked his gigantic world, toppling him to the side.

He had to grab the hem of his shirt collar to keep rolling down against her hip.

Elise sniffed the incense and grinned softly, though Nick could only peer up at

the side of her face and see the cheek pull back. She ran her fingers through

her hair - Nick saw fingers nearly as long as himself disappearing into her

tresses - and leaned back in the loveseat. It was then she seemed to notice her

boyfriend's clothes on the seat beside her and for a moment she wondered if he

were naked in the bedroom, waiting for her to find him stretched out on the bed.

But her keen eyes picked out her diminutive boyfriend, reeling from this

overwhelming experience to try to kneel and look up at her.

Unflappable as ever, she pursed her lips for a moment and studied him before

saying, "Okay, this is a remarkable development in our relationship, but I'm

still not going to be dragged into these fantasies of yours."

Part 2

Nick stared up at Elise, and Elise stared down at Nick. They stared at each

other for a long time. Elise tried to imagine what mystical or physical

condition could've happened to actually shrink Nick down, while Nick's thoughts

were less pragmatic: he was simply drinking in the impressive monolith that was

his girlfriend. Her hand rested on the shoulder of his shirt beside her, and

sitting upright, he was just taller than her wrist. He figured he had to be

about the size of an action figure, about four inches, based on the size of her

hand compared to his new perspective.

Elise slowly raised her hand and extended a forefinger, making no sudden moves

to startle her miniscule boyfriend. He'd been sitting with his arms wrapped

around his knees; he shifted to lean back on his arms and stretch his legs out,

opening his chest to her. She brought her fingertip in: to him, it was the size

of a large log, maybe thicker than a telephone pole. He marveled at how such a

huge item could hover in the air before him. She brought it in closer, slowly,

until the soft, rounded tip of her finger finally made contact with his chest.

Frowning thoughtfully, she stroked his bare chest repeatedly, exercising as much

caution as she could in this, fully cognizant of the fact that she could

probably crumple him like a Dixie cup.

"How, exactly, did this happen to you?" she asked him. "I mean, I was just gone

for five minutes. What could you possibly have done?"

Nick shrugged, wondering absently if he'd have to exaggerate his gestures so her

eyes could see them, then mused over how clownish that would feel. He'd feel

like a miniature Jim Carrey, without the paycheck. "I really have no idea, hon.

I just stretched out to take a little nap, and, well, I lit some incense,

first."

Elise smiled, sniffing the air. "Yeah, I noticed that. I really like it. What

kind is it?"

He pointed at a foil packet on the steamer trunk. "You tell me. I've never seen

it before. It was just next to that purple candle, I figured it was yours." Her

blank expression - broad as a billboard - told him much. "Oh, how hokey," he

said, rubbing his temple with one tiny hand.

"What's that?" she asked, settling herself to face him. She turned towards him

and drew up one enormous, black-clad leg perpendicular to him, tucking its foot

under her other knee and leaning forward to listen to him. Despite his miniature

size, she had remarkably little difficulty in hearing him: he sounded like he

was speaking to her through an old aviator's radio with the volume turned down

just a little.

Nick gestured all about him, laughing. "Oh, all of this. It's happening just

like in one of those giantess stories I like to read. Some mysterious element

just appears out of nowhere to give a character dominion over the laws of

physics, or some paranormal event takes place and someone falls victim to it,

blah-dee-blah..."

Never having read any of those stories - not for lack of Nick's suggestion -

Elise could only trust in what he was saying. She asked, "Is that what this is

like?"

He nodded. "It's just like this. You and I argue about giantesses, you storm

out-"

"I didn't storm out," she asserted. "I went out for a smoke, just to take all

this in."

"Yes, that's right, honey. I just mean, that's a common formula. Foreshadowing,

an opportunity for the event in this case, the incense out of nowhere. I light

it up, some woman's face appears in the smoke, and she blows on me and I shrink

down. You come in, yadda yadda yadda..."

"Yadda yadda yadda?" Elise asked. "This happens in all the stories?"

"Well, sometimes it's a magical potion that an unhappy housewife discovers, or a

ring given to an abused girlfriend by a witch, or an amulet from aliens, I think

it was, once."

"And is the giantess always as reluctant as I am?"

Nick shook his head. "Oh, no. If it's a revenge story, she leaps right into the

action, abusing her diminished tormentor with her body, of course."

Elise looked down at him. "Is that what you want me to do, Nick? I really

wouldn't get any enjoyment out of hurting you."

"And I really wouldn't enjoy getting the snot beat out of me, either," he said,

"though I would like to get a little closer to you."

Elise looked at him sideways. "How do you mean? This is really unnerving, Nick."

He shakily rose to his feet, standing upon a broad plane of fabric that used to

be his t-shirt. He raised his arms slightly and called up to her, "Well, let's

just... get used to each other, like this. Could you pick me up and, say, rest

me on your knee?"

She frowned thoughtfully again - Nick always thought that expression was cute,

the way her lower lip would push out, but at this size, staring up at a

beautiful, even-faced goddess pouting at him, his heart throbbed

enthusiastically - but upturned her palm and rested her hand on the shirt, just

beside him, not trusting herself to grip him gently enough. He stepped onto her

palm, and again his pulse raced at the soft fleshy feel beneath his bare feet.

He braced himself against her thumb, noting how tiny his hand looked beside her

huge, silver thumbring, and climbed into her palm. He sat down like he had on

the couch, drawing his legs up and hugging his knees loosely.

Out of an irresistable curiosity, Elise had to raise him to her face, as if she

were studying a gem or other small artifact. Caution was always on her mind,

careful not to crush him or let him spill out of her hand, but she drew him near

her eyes and scrutinized him. It was certainly her boyfriend, and she couldn't

get over the detail of his face, the tiny eyebrows, the miniscule fingernails on

each tiny finger, and... well, he was naked, she was bound to notice his

genitalia. She sighed, already missing how he used to feel inside her.

Nick, on the other hand, was in a private heaven. Her enormous body was no less

lithe as the sheer cliff face of her sweater raced past his little platform, and

he felt a wonderful, longing adoration for her huge, soft breasts behind the

knitted wool. And again, if she was beautiful before, as a giantess she was

positively breathtaking. He absolutely lost himself in her huge hazel eyes, and

he stared at them, watching them twitch slightly as she examined every aspect of

his tiny self. Her thin, button nose was even more adorable, and he smiled at

the thought of stroking it comfortingly, or however. And her lips? Nick's heart

skipped a beat as he thought of those huge, soft lips, parted slightly in

wonderment. Her breath, slightly sweet with decay, gently suggested itself at

him, and his gaze peered into the black cavern beyond her teeth.

His reverie was broken by sudden motion as she lowered him back down and rested

her hand on her knee. Very reluctantly, he climbed off and perched upon her

thigh, lying on his back to stabilize himself as well as touch her leg with as

much of his body as possible. Elise withdrew her hand and leaned over him. Nick,

enshrouded in the canopy of her hair, inhaled her sweet musk deeply.

"Is that better? There, on my leg?" she asked him.

Slowly he remembered how to speak English and assured her it would do. He really

didn't want to push this issue with her, knowing how quickly it could spin out

of control, and yet, he was so eager for more! He supposed he could pace

himself, since he was probably going to be this size for a while, and she'd be

kind enough to keep him around. Anything could happen, he told himself.

"You're awfully comfortable around me, for someone so helpless and naked," she

remarked.

He blushed furiously at that and crumpled back up into a ball. "I, um, yeah, my

clothes," he stammered.

Elise grinned brightly, and it warmed him somewhat. She said, "You know, you

were never shy about lounging around with me completely nude before."

"Yeah, well, you were usually naked with me and I was a bit taller than you,

too." He smiled slowly. "You know, if you really wanted to even the score a

little..."

"Don't even think of it," she said sternly. "I'm not going to take off my

clothes to go along with your little fantasy. This is really weird for me,

Nick." She sighed, and again breathed a gust of warm, personal air over his tiny

body. She raised her forefinger up again, showing it to him so he knew it was

coming, then slowly stroked his side. Tenderly, she felt for his ribs, then his

pelvis, and said quietly, "Come on and open up, Nick. You were cute, like that.

You still look really nice, even at that size. I like looking at you," she

added, when he looked up at her. He unfolded himself, slowly, and she continued

to stroke his body with her fingertip.

It was a remarkable sensation for him, to have this huge, rounded pad of flesh

running over his body. She never pressed painfully hard, but with enough

pressure to feel like a hard snuggle, and he enjoyed it. He closed his eyes and

focused on the sensation, trying to push his exposed self out of his mind. She

rubbed her huge fingertip in broad circles over his chest, and he dug his head

back into her thigh, grinning indulgently. She ran her fingertip down the

outside of his legs, and inevitably he wondered if she would grace him with a

gentle touch between his thighs. 'All in good time, all in good time,' he

thought, sighing.

Part 3

Nick and Elise went to bed that night, in the colloquial sense. Nick didn't

actually get to share the bed, as Elise was afraid of rolling on top of him in

her sleep (though he secretly relished the idea) and crushing him. He tried to

assure her that she was typically a very still and motionless sleeper, but he

suspected her own reservations about this whole giantess scenario were her truer

motivations for the accommodations: he spent the night in her jewelry box on the

dresser. The lid was propped open and it was already lined with velvet, so it

wasn't too uncomfortable. But lying there in the silence of the night, laying on

a folded pair of socks for cushioning, staring at the ceiling, the actual

significance of his situation began to creep up on him.

Obviously, he couldn't go in for work tomorrow. Was he going to lose his job?

Would he ever get his height restored, so he could go back and request his

position again? His and Elise's incomes were what enabled them to afford their

apartment in the nicer part of town: now what? He rolled over to his side,

staring at the bronze lip of the jewelry box. Traditionally, he realized, this

was the part of the story where the tiny man realizes what a tremendous burden

he poses upon the giantess, and makes plans to flee and fend for himself. Nick

didn't consider himself a coward, but he knew he didn't stand a snowball's

chance in hell outside, in the city at large. If he didn't get run over by a car

or hunted down by a cat, Christ, some transient in the neighborhood might find

him... Nick shuddered violently and pulled a corner of sock up to cover himself.

His soft brown eyes penetrated the velvet wall of his bed-box - there was also

the issue of his friends. They got along with Elise as well, and they would

doubtlessly grill her with questions once Nick had disappeared for a couple of

days. And, oh, damn, there was that techno show this Saturday: Universal Female

Adapter was playing at Bivouac, and he'd purchased tickets ahead of time.

Rolling over to lie on his chest, Nick reasoned that would be the easiest

solution of all the problems facing him: Elise would simply get in with her

ticket and keep him in her pocket, and while he wouldn't use his own ticket,

he'd still be seeing the show, so he wouldn't exactly be out $12. Elise could

give the ticket to one of her friends, and... Nick slowly drifted to sleep, lost

in his thoughts.

Far off in a remote under-mountain laboratory, a dozen burned-out scientists

buzzed about their clinical hive, checking monitors and taking notes in a

cryptic shorthand.

"How's subject #3257 coping?" a tall, greying man in labcoat asked.

The younger assistant, behind a console of three screens and two keyboards, read

the data off a neurotransmission transcriber: "Subject #3257 seems to be

mid-range. This strip here represents his theta waves, indicating he's fairly

receptive to the idea of being a tiny person. This erratic feedback up here,

however, represents a synaptic transfer we've correlated to personal conflict.

He could be experiencing anything from fear of a household pet to an inventory

of exactly how his life has changed." The younger man leaned over a 3-ring

binder of codes and patterns, running his fingers down to the third paragraph.

"...Okay, this seems more analogous to introspection, so it's reasonable to

assume he's assessing his responsibilities. ...Oh, wait, now he's going to

sleep."

The older man nodded and made terse notes on his clipboard. "Your summary?" he

asked.

"Subject is experiencing typical self-doubt and the precepts of alienation, but

seems to have an adequate coping mechanism. Also, he entered into this stage

fairly early, so he may be particularly resourceful, or merely confident in his

environment."

Again, the greying man nodded and noted this as well. "He's probably worried

about rent or something," he muttered. "Mail them off their first check in the

morning."

"Got it," the young man said. "You want another holographic imaging pattern sent

over, to reassure him of his fate or somesuch?"

The older man scanned the clipboard, then looked up at the Big Screen

thoughtfully. "Naah, that won't be necessary. Just mail them the check, and look

in on #2290's status for me."

Nick stretched as he arose, listening to Elise bumping around the bedroom,

fumbling for her clothes. He smiled to himself, listening. "Honey," he called

out, "I just had the strangest dream..."

Elise walked over to the dresser and leaned over him, resting on her elbows and

leaning down to blow him a kiss from a short distance. She wore only a pair of

panties and a pair of socks, from what he saw. Her breasts, moderately-sized

when he was big, were enormous and rested upon her forearms with a seductive,

ponderous weight. "You're locked in your idiom, Nick, and you know I hate

clichés..." She lifted him up by grasping the sock upon which he reclined and

set him onto the dresser, commencing to refill her jewelry box.

He grinned up at her and said, "No, seriously, I dreamed Nikita Kruschev and I

were in a basement with only one exit, this rickety wooden staircase, and the

room slowly filled up with melted butter." He scratched his head and rolled off

the sock, walking around on the dresser to stretch his legs. The varnished

mahogany chilled his feet, but he withstood it. "And he had three boiled

lobsters, and I had five lobsters and an Alaskan king crab, I think, and then

Carl Sagan walked in with a lit cigarette..."

Elise laughed and stroked his short, brown hair with a broad fingertip before

turning around to straighten out the bedsheets and look for her bra. "That

wasn't your dream," she said, "that was an old SNL sketch we saw on that tape

last week, remember?"

Nick rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah," he said. He realized he needed a shave, he was

getting kind of rough, but then, who would notice? Elise? What, were his tiny

little whiskers going to take on the quality of fine razorblades and shred her

skin? He decided he could let it go for a while, work it out later. He called

out to her, "Hey, don't you have work today?"

"Yeah, I'm covering Jennifer's hours at the bookstore. She has to take off for a

wedding, and I could use the extra money. Some new 'feng shui' material came in

I'm really interested in." She paused and looked at him, standing straight. The

orange sunrise shone through the window to her side, and half of her glowed with

a peachy luminescence. "Oh no. What about you?"

He paused in his stride on the dresser. "I, um..." he started, then sighed.

"Look. I know it'll creep you out to keep me around with you, so just..." He

walked over to a fine silver ring and began booting it around, idly. "How about

you put me on the steamer trunk and leave the TV on? Slice up a banana for me to

eat throughout the day, and... um, get me a bottle cap from a soda bottle in the

recycling bag."

Elise sat down on the edge of the bed and started brushing her curly auburn

hair. Nick took a moment's enjoyment in watching her nicely-shaped breasts

shudder from side to side as she vigorously brushed herself. "A bottle cap? What

for?" she asked.

"You know, for... waste products," he said. "They may be tiny, but I still have

my intestines. I still make poop."

Elise stared at him a while as her brushing slowed down, and then her hand fell

to her side. After a thoughtful moment, she rose wordlessly from the bed and

started rifling through her closet for the day's outfit. She yanked out a

cranberry linen button-up blouse and her khaki cargo skirt. She dressed hastily,

noticing the time, and pulled on a pair of hiking boots, to be laced up later.

Nick held his arms around his ribs as she reached over for him - and he was

struck by the intimidating visual of her open, flat palm rushing at her, her

huge fingers splayed and stretching around him. Embraced in her morning-sleepy

warmth, he grinned to himself. "Comedy Central should work for most of the day,"

he called up to her, "if they don't keep playing Johnny Dangerously."

However, she didn't take him to the living room. She grabbed the sock from the

dresser, unbuttoned one of her cargo pocket, and wrapped him up in the sock

before inserting him carefully into her left cargo pocket. Nick looked up at her

in genuine surprise; her face was one of resolute determination, and he imagined

she was probably overriding some of her personal compunctions against this, but

apparently she thought this was the best idea - he was coming with her to work.

Elise kissed her fingertip and pressed it against his tiny cheek before

buttoning up the pocket and running out to her car. Nick jostled very pleasantly

against her firm, warm thigh and looked forward to the rest of the day.

Part 4

It wasn’t a tight-fitting skirt that Elisa chose that day, it was more a blossom

of khaki and linen with shallow billows-pockets on either side. Nick found

plenty of room to stretch out as he shared the driver’s seat with her in the

mid-90s model VW Jetta. A brighter red than her burgundy blouse, it rolled out

of the driveway and took off for the highway as Elisa headed off to work.

Nick again took stock of his surroundings, a sensory inventory to calm his mind

and help him to focus. If he let his mind wander he either became unreasonably

horny or frantic with the realization of how much his life had changed and how

powerless he was to recover it. Paradoxically, there also lingered the thought

that this was perhaps a temporary condition, hope against hope, and he should

burn these images and senses into his mind while he may observe them from this

vantage point. He knelt upon the seat, from within the cargo pocket, and splayed

his fingers upon the fabric beneath him. The linen was of a very loose weave, at

his size, but the fibers were plenty strong and unyielding. He could just barely

sense the contours of the driver’s seat, the rough weave upholstering and

plastic seams. All around him the roar of the engine vibrated the air,

accelerating and dwindling away like a valley of angry dragons just on the other

side of the mountain…

The mountain, the warm ridge of female flesh beside him. Heat radiated off of

Elisa’s thigh like a sun-baked side of a building. He felt it was such a

different sense of heat, as well, since it burned from her muscles and exuded

through her sweet, sweet skin. If you could feel the quality of scent in a

perfume, if scent were a tactile stimulation, the heat off her thigh would be

it. He smiled, closed his eyes, and let it soak into him.

From without layers of fabric enshrouding the tiny man, Elisa said, “Hold on,

Nick, tight turn…” Gravity abruptly shifted and threw him against his

girlfriend’s thigh as she swung the vehicle hard to the left. The car settled

back in its lane and her massive log of leg rolled gently upon Nick,

overpowering him mindlessly, effortlessly. He found himself half-pinned beneath

her thigh as she adjusted herself in the seat. Not wishing to jinx this magic

moment, as the blood drained from his legs yet his erection rose beneath the

huge monolith of flesh, Nick held his breath and said not a word. “Sorry about

that, honey. Crazy drivers today. You okay?” she spoke to him.

He carefully released his breath and called up, “Oh, sure, not a problem,” as

casually as possible. She seemed satisfied with the answer as she made no move

to pick herself up off of her boyfriend. For the rest of the trip to the

bookstore, Nick enjoyed every pothole, speed bump, and thank-you-ma’am in the

road for the tremendous shock wave they sent through dear Elisa’s thigh,

rippling and rumbling over his tiny body excitingly. He knew there wasn’t enough

gas in the world to keep this car going long enough for him to tire of this

wonderful situation, and all too soon they pulled into the parking lot.

Gathering her things, Elisa saw her cargo pocket was caught beneath her leg and

hastily yanked it out from beneath her seat. “Oh my God!” she cried. “Are you

okay, Nick? Did I crush you?” She extracted him cautiously from the pocket and

held him up to her face to examine the tiny nude man.

His legs tingled pleasantly from the ride, as well as the circulation restoring

to them, and he could only smile back up at her concerned expression. He

attempted to reassure her: “I’m perfectly fine, honey, really. It was a snug

fit, but it wasn’t unpleasant at all! I hardly noticed.” He waved amiably up at

her to accentuate his claim.

She seemed satisfied with his answer. Hesitantly, she raised him to her face -

which beautiful visage swelled and grew in his vision - and placed as gentle a

kiss upon his forehead as possible. To him, this translated into two beautiful

lips the size of a small sleeping bag puckering up, hovering tantalizingly above

him, and somewhat roughly mashing into his face. Again, a delightful sensation,

as his vision, scent, taste, hearing, and tactile capacities were overwhelmed

with her soft, sweet lips and anxious breathing. He pressed his face into her

kiss, his heart pounding, and placed both hands modestly over his raging

hard-on.

“It’s time for me to go to work, I’m almost late,” she noted, slipping him back

into her cargo pocket. “I’ll try to be more careful throughout the day. You be

sure and let me know if anything’s wrong, okay?” She tilted her head as her

hiking boots clomped across the asphalt. Not hearing anything from him, she

added, “How about you just tug on my skirt or poke at my leg once for yes and

twice for no?” That provoked one soft little fist, smaller than a pencil eraser,

nudging at her leg. Again satisfied, she strode through the huge doors of the

bookstore and made a beeline for the back room, to punch in for her workday.

Nick’s thoughts were racing as he lay nestled in her pocket. The view never

changed, except for patches of light and shadow sailing over the fabric, but the

noise was a cacophony of activity that suddenly sent a shiver of panic up his

spine. When normal-sized, he’d never been a fan of crowds in particular but

could manage his way through one with minimal effort. Now, however, the noises

were overwhelming and he knew they were coming from giants several dozen times

his own size. If the pocket were somehow to give and he tumbled onto the floor…

would anyone even see him before he was crushed beneath some huge sole? Would

his last image of Elisa be that of her voluminous skirt sailing away like a

perambulatory mountain of khaki, just before a dirty white Converse sole

descended upon his frail frame? His heart started racing and his fists clutched

handfuls of fabric. He told himself logically there was no way he could produce

enough weight to test the strain of the fabric and fall to the floor, he knew

this was true. It was simply a train of thought his mind, once engaged, found

difficult to leave. He took small consolation in being so close to his

girlfriend, since she was wrapped up in her own world and he only idly bounced

against her thigh.

It took him a few minutes to calm himself down; it helped that Elisa stopped for

some coffee before going to work. Sitting in the café she reached down to gently

stroke what she hoped would be Nick’s back. It felt right, the concave bend in

the middle of tiny tangled limbs. “How are you doing down there, honey?” she

whispered, staring into her coffee.

Nick gathered his breath and called up to her as gently as he could, “I’m fine,

sweetheart. I just had a panic attack, I’m fine now.” After a moment he added,

“Promise me if you suddenly feel your pocket go a couple grams lighter or you

don’t feel me banging off your thigh, you’ll stop and look around for me?”

She wondered where that came from but agreed to it promptly.

Soon coffee was over and she had to attend to her duties in the store. It was a

game for Nick to try to pick out one sound out of the ocean of noises and

identify it. Sometimes it was easy: the shrill cry of an angry child; two

matrons gabbering about cooking recipes; the plaintive whine of some loser

looking for the self-help section (Nick suspected there was an oxymoron in there

somewhere). Sometimes it was more difficult, when all voices were raised to a

similar volume, or when the speaker could have been a young boy or a small

woman, or someone of either gender with a dire smoker’s rasp. Venturing within

his pocket, he slowly raised himself to his feet, gripping the pleats of the

cargo pocket very tightly, and extended his legs until his head just came up to

the seam of the pocket. He dared to grip the seam and pull just a little

downwards…

And the entire world was opened up to him, albeit from a dramatically altered

perspective. Much of the world was a blurry rush of book spines, colors and

textures, as Elisa skirted the aisles and led customers to their destinations,

but once in a while she stood still and he could peer about. He was about

eye-level with baby strollers and toddlers; he was merely knee-high to the rest

of the population. As fearful as he’d been before, trepidation slowly gave way

to amazement as he studied the once-familiar landscape around him. Jeans strode

by powerfully; skirts fluttered past; hips rumbled and asses shook, and shoes

and boots engaged in thunderous collision with the floor non-stop. He was

surprised to imagine that everyone’s spines didn’t just shatter with the

terrible impact of heel upon floor, time and time again! Yet there they were,

tall and strong and proud, going about their business.

Nick began to wish he could steer Elisa around rather than jostle about only as

far as she stood or walked, because there were a couple interesting straits he

would have liked to pursue. Two teenaged girls were sitting in the café talking

to each other rapidly, their smooth hands fluttering in the air, fingertips

twitching and twirling like the antennae of butterfly in communication with each

other. Their part of the café happened to be next to the foreign history

section, and Elisa’s customer proved to be quite dull, requiring several

explanations to get across exactly what this section offered in terms of history

and other countries. Keep talking, keep asking questions, you idiot, Nick

thought to himself. He was staring transfixedly at the girls in their seats,

being maybe a few yards away from them (his scale). They both wore jeans that

were nicely faded and clung snugly to their developing hips. The girl on the

right tended to shift in her seat with some frequency, as if never comfortable

with how she were arranged. Full within his gaze, her ass shifted and slid over

the wooden chair, rising gently and then lowering, plumping out with the

ponderous weight of the young woman squooshing down upon it. More talking, more

rocking back and forth - she seemed to enjoy rolling back and forth on her

buttocks, her pelvis never touching the chair as she floated on layers of

muscle, fat, and young firm skin - all accentuated by the lines and creases in

her jeans. Nick felt himself get a little aroused, and cupped his hand over his

genitalia to keep from poking into the fabric of her pocket (as if anyone could

notice).

Then she did an unconscious, sexy thing: she shucked her sandals off, gripping

each back with her toes and pushing them off, and tucked her right foot beneath

her left thigh. So situated, she leaned forward to talk conspiratorily to her

friend, as if imagining anyone in the café could possibly care what two teenage

girls have to confide in each other. Nick cared, however, for her new position:

she had a darling row of pink-orangey toes that twitched reflexively before a

broad pad of soft instep. All her skin seemed to glow with youth, and the

enormous log of thigh that pressed upon it resisted spreading all over by virtue

of the strong young skin encasing it. Her toes twitched and he caught a glint of

burnished silver - she was wearing a toe ring! Nick never thought much of them

before, but now, seeing that band of carved metal around one slender, darling

toe, waggling seductively beneath a huge wave of faded denim painted onto a

long, strong thigh…

Abruptly, Elisa spun on her heel and marched over to the information desk. Her

customer had evidently found what he was looking for and was fine to leave on

his own for a while. Nick bit his lip to keep from howling with disappointment

and longing, as the flap above the pocket bore down upon his head: Elisa rubbed

his head gently with one fingertip to make sure he was okay and to remind him

she was thinking about him. She didn’t find it so unpleasant to keep her

boyfriend around with her: even if he couldn’t talk to her, he still kept her

company and it made work a little more bearable.

“Yes, yes, I love you too,” he muttered darkly, reaching out of the pocket to

stroke her fingertip. For a moment he felt bad, what with his girlfriend being

right there; indeed, her thigh being the mighty redwood that stood behind him

scant inches away. But only for a moment for, as Elisa turned, he saw something

that froze his blood and turned his heart to stone.

A young girl, maybe six years old, was bending over just slightly to stare at

him with huge blue eyes. Her thick brown hair fell like a waterfall around the

sides of her round face, and her pink mouth was hanging agape as she studied the

tiny little man in the woman’s pocket. One of her arms was pulled idly back by

her mother, only making a token gesture of restraining the girl; her other arm

lifted, trance like, and her young, stubby fingers extended and reached straight

for Nick’s tiny head.

TBC

GOES AROUND

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