It was the strangest sensation, Herbert thought, to be lounging in this princely chair while a fairly literal goddess sprawled across the floor in front of him.
“Get out of your chair,” she said abruptly, and just as abruptly he sprang from his seat and stood at the edge of the rug.
“Herbert,” she said, and his heart melted. “I know so much about you, is it not so?”
“Yes, you seem to, go—… your mightiness.”
She giggled, as delicately as any geyser. “”You mustn’t need to call me anything like this. I am not royalty, not by your human standards. Although perhaps I am, in the same way you have come to prize gold above all other metals.“
Questions began to emerge in the terrain of his brain-meats, but one held true: “Then what should I call you?”
The big, beautiful woman rolled to her back. Her dress performed the uncanny trick of sliding away from some areas and clinging to others, so that she was never more than tantalizingly exposed. It enticed Herbert, but slightly less than that, it drove him a little crazy to be cock-blocked by a dress. “What should you call me…” she said, rolling the idea around in her large mouth. “I have a name, of course, but I do not think you have yet earned the privilege of addressing me by this. I have given this away cheaply to men who did not deserve it, but…”
Silence filled the room. Herbert felt the silence descend and swell, pressing him back from the giantess. He struggled to not collapse into the chair again.
“I talk so much! Why do I talk so much?” Again she giggled, and again his mind struggled to reconcile such a gentle sound with such a massive, threatening body. “You do the talking now, Herbert. It is not my place to spill all my secrets and give everything away to such a newcomer. Isn’t that so? Yes, you must entertain me.” So saying, she crossed one immense leg over the other knee and let her foot loll in the empty space.
Herbert could only stare at it. Every square inch of this woman was a miracle. He couldn’t afford to miss out on any piece of her. Her sole was a little rough, but not dirty, and just then he realized that as large as this cavern was, it was probably not tall enough for her to stand without stooping. “How miserable that must be,” he said, beyond thinking.
He stepped back in alarm; his heel banged against the chair. “Sorry, nothing, I was just thinking aloud.”
“Then speak aloud and entertain me, little man.” Some of the mirth left her voice in this sentence.
“I was just… I’m sorry, you large, glorious woman, but I was studying your foot.”
“My little foot? My cute little footsie?” The playfulness returned. She waggled her foot at him, a foot that was longer and broader than his entire torso, and this she waved at him as easily as a handkerchief to a sailing ship. Any one of her toes, he could have taken up in both hands… “What is it you noticed about my darling little footsie?”
Eyes on the prize, he told himself. “It’s just that your foot isn’t as dirty as it should be, you know, from walking around like the rest of us people do. If I walked around this city without any shoes or socks, my soles would be almost blackened with dirt and tar and trash and God-knows-what. But yours are… almost pristine…” Her thick toes waggled at him, and she waved her foot around in a slow, wide circle. His arms lifted from his sides, entranced, reaching for the extremity, aching only to experience this wonder, the thick big toe that waved around at him, the darling spherical toe-tips that lined up behind it…
“And?” Her foot stilled in an upright position, baring her sole at him.
“And…” Herbert panicked. All conversational threads had fled his mind, replaced by the desire to somehow grind out an orgasm against the broad, flat plane of flesh she presented. “And, and, I mean…” He studied the ball of her foot, puffy and thick where all else was wrinkled and depressed, and light caught the glint of silica between the wales of the skin’s ridges. “If you’re walking around in here, your feet should be dirtier. Generally, I mean, but of course you have means of washing them. If you so choose, I mean, who does one such as you need to impress?” He laughed; she did not join him. “I was just wondering whether you’re able to stand up and stretch yourself out in here. Me, if it were me, that is, trapped in a room that was too small to let me stand up, why, I might go mad.” There, that was very well said. Herbert straightened out his lapels and—“Not that you’re mad! I’m not saying that at all! No, it’s just me, weak little old me, I might not handle as well as some people could. You, of course, you’re capable of anything, far beyond my meager, pedestrian imagining, surely.”
Then she laughed. Herbert watched the giantess’s head slowly cant back into the expensive rug, heard the rasp of corded layers of hair against the floor, watched her lips part and her throat work up and down a couple times before her bosom heaved to release a deafening peel of rich, sincere merriment. Her breasts punched against the living dress; her shoulders drove back into the carpet with each guffaw; the gentle pudge of her belly rocked and shimmied with her laughter, and once again Herbert wanted to throw himself at it, lose himself in it, become absorbed into her living tissue…
“You are the little charmer, Herbert,” she said in an accent like opium. “You speak from the heart, unafraid, without apology or explanation. This! This is why I like you.” Her head rolled to the side to regard him; her face was plastered in amusement. “So many other stupid men try too hard to use words they don’t understand and construct clever phrases they half-remember from books. But you, I can tell.” One long arm lifted and one thick finger pointed through the humid air at his chest. “You just open up your stupid little mouth and let it all out, without filters or trying to impress me. As soon as you think it… no. No, that is wrong.” Her fair brow furrowed and she squinted at the ceiling of the cavern. “As soon as you feel it, you speak it. Yes, as soon as the notion forms in your warm little heart, out it comes! Out it comes to land in my ears and crawl the long way down to my own heart.” She grinned at him, all the way up to her eyes. “You were not a mistake, Herbert. Among all other men, you might earn everything you are paying for.”
The momentary rush of pride at this indefinite accomplishment nearly wiped the question from his mind: “What happened to the other men?”
Her face soured and turned away. “Oh, Herbert! How crass. Do you like it when your girlfriend speaks of all the men who came before you?”
He thought about that: he’d never really had a girlfriend, not for long, and any ten of them wouldn’t be as large as this woman. “Well, no, I suppose not.”
“Then please do not ask me to engage in this distasteful pastime. Especially when you have a limited number of requests you may make.”
“Did you not hear me? Was someone else speaking over me?” The titaness swung her huge head around comically, scanning for the ostensible perpetrator.
“I just meant… a limited number of requests?” The implication of rules he did not know suddenly weighed upon his head and shoulders. Of course there would be rules! One doesn’t simply lock a scrawny little man in a room with a living goddess and there aren’t any rules!
She laughed again. The laughter was less playful, sharper than before. “It is very convenient that you are such a dumb little man. If you were too clever, this would be a lot of work for me. Thank you for sparing me that unnecessary labor and letting this simply be fun for both of us.”
“Both of us?”
“You are having more fun than you are aware of, my little puppet.” Her foot swayed enticingly once again. “You will see. Now: undress.”
The idea shook him badly. “What?”
The giantess released a long, heavy sigh. Herbert could feel the breezes of the room shift and adjust to the new current she presented. “Let no one suggest that you did not ask your woman enough questions on your first date.”
“But let no one suggest they were good questions. Herbert,” she said, dropping her voice, “your queen commands this. Take off your clothes and present yourself to me.”
“All my clothes?”
“Sacre merde…” Her hands curled into fists, and her arms swung to pound into the expensive rug. “I will tell you how to do every little thing, like a dull little child, yes? Take off your jacket and your pants. Do it!” she barked, when he stood there dumbly. “Oh, la vache, yes, take off your shoes first, and your socks. Take off that ugly little shirt I cannot believe you wore to visit a goddess. And there, stop, that’s it. Stand there in your underwear, do you understand? Is this clear enough for you?”
And so he did: he stood in his plaid boxers and sleeveless undershirt, shivering in the dank, humid air of the cavern beneath the most expensive neighborhood he’d never heard of. Out of reflex, he took the time to fold his clothes and leave them in a neat pile to his right, then wondered if he’d wasted too much time in this and further attracted the ire of this titaness.
“Now, you walk around to my feet.”
Herbert only barely restrained himself from asking what she meant by that. Throwing fate to the wind, he walked around the perimeter of the Persian rug to where her feet planted upon the ground. Her knees peaked in semi-clad arches from her broad hips and the rest of giantess-country. It was likely, he sensed, that he could shrewdly peek up the split in her garment, right between her colossal thighs, to spy upon the epicenter of her femininity, but no sooner did the thought form in his skull than he rebuked himself. He stared furiously at the fringed edge of the rug, berating himself hotly in his mind, telling himself how privileged he was to focus upon the row of heavy toes lined up on either side of him.
These toes were a marvel unto themselves. He could have stepped on her big toe with his entire foot, with plenty of room left over. If he’d stepped between her big and second toes, she could have casually twisted her foot and shattered his ankle, even his shin, into a hundred splinters. He could have sat upon her foot like a long, low bench, easily. Even her heel, taken in total, was larger than the mass of his own head. As a matter of fact…
He could only watch as one hefty thigh drew back, one meaty calf rose before him, and her rough, dusty sole planted upon his chest. He staggered back, catching himself against the entirely incidental force of this woman’s mere darling footsie slamming into him. He wrapped his arms around her toes, as though to support himself with them or else cushion them from impact if he did collapse, but he found himself rebalancing upon his spindly legs and remaining upright. Appalled at his audacity, he released her foot and stood at attention before her… well, below her, perhaps.
He released her, but he discovered she hadn’t released him. Her thick big toe rested upon his left shoulder, and her other toes wrapped around his right shoulder, curling cutely, stroking him, caressing him. The short bones of her big and second toes fit neatly around his entire neck, holding him there as though he’d been constructed for it. His chin rested upon the webbing between her toes, and his nostrils filled with the salty, dry musk of what bacteria built up there. Certainly they were freed of the various fungi that could cultivate within women’s traditional shoes, lacking ventilation and building up moisture in the darkness; yet this gigantic woman lived entirely underground, in these mysterious caverns, and even if she couldn’t erect herself fully, there was no telling what it was she crawled through when she needed to stretch her limbs and examine her domain.
Herbert couldn’t see the giantess’s face anymore, nor the swelling foothills of her huge boobs. All he could see were two tremendously meaty thighs rubbing delicately against each other, partially clad in this mysterious living fabric, and one beefy calf that hung from the shin that pointed dead at his chest. This led to the tenderly turned foot, despite its massive size, that reached up to pinch his pencil-neck between two darling toesies, holding him as securely as any cold iron shackle yet hugging him like an excited lover. The ball of her foot wrinkled against his chest, pinching at his shirt.
Dazed, he raised one hand to stroke the huge bone that ran down the bridge of her foot to lead to her big toe. Her skin was… so smooth, so warm… with tender little hairs that bent, reluctantly, under his fingers. And just under that layer of tender skin, he could feel the stout bone whose responsibility it was to support the rest of this mighty architecture. It felt stern and serious, single-minded in its task, yet it was caked in the softest, smoothest, milkiest flesh…
He didn’t know what to do. Herbert had no idea what was expected of him at this juncture, where she clenched his neck with her toes and hid her nonverbal communication from his beady eyes. Yet he embraced her foot with one arm, and she did not tell him not to. He stood just off the sacred carpet, beside a foot that could have shattered him into pieces, caressing the farthest limb from this giantess in a cavern of dimly glowing lights. And, oh yes, he stood there in his underwear, that should not be forgotten in this laundry list of weirdness.
The titaness’s lilting voice drifted over her bodyscape. “What is it you want from me, Herbert?”