Once again, with feeling…

He boarded the morning express bus, paid his fare, and slowly walked down the aisle to find his seat. Everyone liked their regular spots, came to believe these were their spots, and they were truly ruffled when this reliability broke down. It took him a month to establish his seat, but once he did, all the regulars respected it.

He walked back to the pair of seats right behind the rear door and sat down. He didn’t scoot in all the way to the wall, and he let his coat flare out, so that while technically he wasn’t occupying two seats, there was enough of a message to dissuade anyone else from sitting there. Until the giantess came on board.

The bus pulled away after everyone else sat down. It ran east a few blocks, and then it pulled to the curb again. This was one of two moments of truth: was she even at the stop today? The giantess’s schedule was erratic, and he couldn’t pick up on its pattern. She only rode in Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but not every Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. Did she take a later bus? Did she have a boyfriend that sometimes drove her in? These were the unknowables about the giantess.

But she was here today. He could feel the bus sag on its shocks, slightly, he thought, when she reached up with one long leg to plant her foot upon the step and climb up. He stared, mesmerized, by her powerful, thick thighs shifting against each other from beneath a skirt a little too short for this weather, her round calves straining in the cuffs of her boots. Yes, she was always meant to be a giantess, and he wondered if she knew this.

He snapped himself out of his reverie in time to snatch back his coat and scoot up against the wall of the bus, just after the two commuters before her passed. If this was too obvious, she’d be scared away like a shy and timid fawn, but he’d practiced these moves until they were fluid and innocuous. And today, after swinging her shaggy head around, she chose the seat beside him.

His heart thrilled each time she chose his seat. He tried not to look elated, and he tried not to stare, but there was no way he could avoid straining the corner of his vision to watch her round hips widen as her skirt strained, her waist bent, and her massive derriere plummeted upon the bus seat like an asteroid into a major metropolitan center.

She was so tall, so large, so well-shaped in every aspect—she has to be a giantess, he thought.

He wondered if she knew. Many men and most women were shorter than her. She had to be aware of that, but he wondered if she ever took that to its logical extension: to be taller than everyone, taller than houses, taller than buildings… She was sitting a few inches away from him, despite his psychic pleas for her to pin him against the wall of the bus. Regardless, he could still watch her massive thighs tremble with the normal engine operation, then heave and throb with the bumps in the road. He imagined the damage those thighs could do to any of the skyscrapers downtown: mirrored phalluses that fall under the shadow of her skirt, reflecting her inner thighs in the moment before all their windows are atomized, all their concrete pulverized, and all their steel girders crumpled like so much aluminum foil. He imagined sitting at his own desk, looking up just in time to see one of her inner thighs slowly sweep into view like a swiftly moving storm front, the moment before her loins tensed and rammed through his entire department as though they’d struck a wall.

She adjusted herself in her seat and he snapped his gaze away. Was he staring? Did she notice? Mentally he swore at his own reflection, pretending to be interested in the fences and hedges that gave way to the coffee shop. If he stared, if he was at all outwardly creepy, he would chase her away… And then I could never teach her about her legacy.

The legacy of being a giantess, of course, because if she didn’t know who she was, why, he was more than willing to step up and do the needful. He could explain to her the nature of true power and how it was meant to be hers. He could ask her what was important to her, what she valued, and how these all flowed from her birthright for might.

Okay, no, he couldn’t actually grow her to exponential sizes, that was impossible. The square/cube law and all that. But they could do the next best thing: he could photograph her from strategic angles. He could photoshop her into parts of the city, documenting the last second before her powerful foot descended upon the mass transit system, before her wide and spreading hips overwhelmed City Hall. She could pose with action figures, and by the tenets of sympathetic magic, they could create a giantess out of her. She could taste her heritage, if not truly embody it.

And, once that was done, once she realized her greatness and needed somewhere to place her gratitude… After all, hadn’t he been her loyal subject from the beginning? Way back when she was nobody, just a slightly oversized normal person? Didn’t he love her in her roughest state? And didn’t he exalt her to her rightful position? Of course she would gush her affection all over him, envelope him in gratitude, suck him right inside…

He was staring at her lap again, he realized. She gave no indication of noticing, though she did bring up her expensive designer shoulder bag and plump it across her thighs, occluding his view. He swore again, but not at her. At fate. He swore at fate for choosing this moment, when he was so close to exposing the goddess beside him…

And here was her stop. She’d pulled up her bag because she was getting ready to leave. He could have wept hot, bitter tears but for his incredible self-control, but there were other mornings to look forward to. Maybe next week. Maybe he could keep the seat occupied until she arrived, on the day she happened to show up. Heartbreaking as this was, he had something to look forward to.

She leaned into him, her bicep against his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about this,” she whispered huskily, as he held his breath and his blood froze in his veins, “but you’d make a much better tiny person, I think.”

Before he could roll his eyes, before he could turn his head, before he could overcome his shock and look at her, he smelled something like flowers in strong alcohol. The window beside him shot up into the sky and his vinyl seat blew out in all directions. He looked up just as her thick fingers descended, waggling playfully, upon his tiny little body. Between the pads of her thumb and index finger, she daintily hauled him up into the heavens and dropped him into her oversized shoulder bag.

She cinched the handles, turned slightly to rise into the aisle, and slipped lithely out of the rear door of the bus.

Speculative fiction author within size fantasy, artist, musician.

2 Comment on “The Giantess on the Bus

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