I heard her footsteps behind me. I scanned the empty, darkened street for a place to hide.
Thumm, thumm, thumm, they went. Muted booms that shook the ground. A lot of time between each footfall, as though she were moving slowly. Or, more likely, each stride of her incredibly long legs covered that much more ground, took that much longer to make contact with the city streets.
I jogged up the sidewalk, held back from outright sprinting by looking left and right, trying to pick out any alcove, any doorway, even a parked car I might hide behind. Amazingly, there were no cars anywhere in this part of town: just a long stretch of road ahead of me, and a bare road coming up from the left at this T-intersection. There were no cars and no people, in the middle of the night. My own sneakers slapped with heightened volume as I staggered over the pavement, searching…
Thumm, thumm, scra-a-a-ape. She was shuffling. She was crouched and shuffling up the street, around the corner. “C____? Where are you?” Her voice resounded against the darkened businesses, so loud and so deep, yet still carrying the notes of femininity. And youth.
The movie theater. I stood under the marquee, peered into the ticket booth, tried a door. Locked. Desperately I tried the next door: the bar rattled in my fists. I looked over my shoulder, and a block away everything went dark. Her body, her massive, reaching body was blocking out the streetlights, blocking out the full moon and the stars, casting everything around the intersection. The sidewalk vibrated through my sneakers as she planted one foot before the other.
“Come on, C____! Why are you hiding? I’m not going to hurt you.” Oh, that voice! So sweet, so gentle. I knew she meant those words. I knew she believed them.
But all the nerves in my body seized, and my legs hopped to the third door, on the other side of the ticket booth. My shoulders jerked, tugging at the entry bar as if I could yank it off. Dammit… I glanced down the street again, and there was her own sneaker, the white toe of a Chuck Taylor Converse. If there had been a car parked nearby, her shoe would have dwarfed it easily. Over the black canvas and glowing white laces, the cuff of her blue jeans rumpled. I peered around the corner of the entryway to see the denim run up that huge shin, peaking at a perfectly rounded knee.
I wanted to touch that shoe, to climb over her foot and scramble inside that jeans leg. I wanted to hug her ankle and kiss her skin, I wanted this so badly. So why was I fleeing?
My arm reached out for the handle on the last door and tugged. It swung wide and I flowed inside like water. Now my footsteps echoed sharply in the entryway, then muffled on the foyer carpet. I sprinted past the concession stand and plunged into the theater.
The thunderous footsteps grew closer. “C____, come on! I’m your friend!” Her voice rattled the windows in the front of the building, all the panes reverberating with that enlarged throat of hers. “Don’t you want to be with me?”
Good lord, I did. My whole body craved that so badly I nearly wept. Yet I felt another urge, getting a powerful charge out of making this difficult for her. Why? To test her? To see if she wanted me so badly, she’d pursue me through the entire town? How long before she gave up, and what then? Could I chase after her?
Rows and rows of empty seats all around me, scalloped hardbacks with thin, flat velvet cushions. Now the lighting was nearly nonexistent, but for four embers in all four corners of the room, showing anyone the way out in case of an emergency.
Explosions. Crashing, collisions. The theater grumbled and groaned as masonry and rebar were clawed away… slowly. She was being careful, this giantess, slipping her fingers through the front windows and hooking them on arches and support walls, pulling them gently away (as gently as she could) to expose the interior.
She was coming for me.
My heart pounded. I was terrified, and I was elated. I tried to flatten myself against the ground, even as my arousal tightened in my jeans. I wanted her! She wanted me! Why didn’t I just run out and present myself?
The explosions came closer, with greater clarity. No walls separating me from the noise, because the wall in question was being gingerly excavated and displaced. Light from the street glowed into the theater, casting long shadows of the seats. I could see the shadow of her huge hand, her slender, shapely fingers rippling slowly over the heavy velvet curtain before the silver screen. Oh, the size of it… Would she hurt me with those fingers? Accidentally? What did she want to do with me, anyway? I wanted so badly to find out.
Her voice rang into my little chamber clearly, powerfully: “C____, are you in here?”
My throat choked, barely stifling a high-pitched cry in reflex. My fingertips pressed against the sticky theater floor, stinking of popcorn, cheap chocolate, and industrial cleaner. The floor was cold as poured concrete: the giantess would be warm, soft, sweet. Why didn’t I run to her?
I dared myself to see her. I pushed off the floor very slowly, positioned my head on a polished wooden armrest and peeked between two scalloped metal seats.
There she was. The entire front of the theater was missing. There were two cleanly torn squares, one inside the other, where she removed the whole walls, tore them to pieces and set them aside. Blackness stretched beyond the huge denim knee, which now lowered itself to the street. Long bare forearms descended and propped her as her head descended from the heavens to peer into the theater.
She was the older sister of a friend. Sometimes she babysat me. I had a crush on my friend, but her sister was inaccessibly beautiful to me: tall, elegant, knowing of the world’s ways just like a teenager was and like seven-year-old me never could be. Her bobbed brown hair swung through the air like silk drapery, and her graceful fingers brushed it aside to beam her sharp, exquisite smile into the theater.
She was so huge, she blocked the entire entryway. That’s the new entryway, mind, the entire facade of the building that was missing. Her sneakered foot, her denimed calf and thigh, her bare arms and her picturesque face and head occluded the entire world outside.
“C____, are you in here? Please come to me. I can’t come in there.” There was a tint of sadness at the end of her words, as though she longed to hold me in her soft, pink hands, and… and what? What was this beautiful teenager going to do with me? My heart pounded in my chest, starving to know.
Yet I hid. I crouched behind the front row, just as she crouched to search inside the theater, in the middle of the silent night. Her jewel-like eyes swept left, then right, and then her smooth and puffy lips turned down in a frown, a pout. And with a quiet “okay, then” her head rose back into the heavens. Her hands flew up as well, and her leg straightened out until all I could see was her shin and Converse sneaker. And then those swung to the side and her thumm, thumm, thumm receded, growing quieter.
“No! Wait!” Now I was crying. I sprang from the floor and ran up the aisle. “Wait for me! I want you, take me!” The cool, dark air whisked over my arms and face, and I burst from the theater like some small wind-up toy. I stood on the sidewalk, watching the massive giantess, a beautiful teenager, sadly heading out of town at tremendous speeds, and I collapsed in grief.
Note: This was a dream I had when I was in first or second grade. It was one of the first two giantess-themed dreams I remember having.