Henley sat at his own desk in his own dorm room, something he’d been doing with greater frequency over the last week or two. The room felt stifling, but when trying to write in a library or out in a grassy lawn, he felt increasingly exposed. “What’s that freak writing about?” he imagined people whispering among themselves. “Probably fucking giants. Like, literally.” Cobie assured him no one was saying anything like this, but he did point out that Henny was changing.
“You don’t seem to laugh as much, man,” he commented over beers. “You weren’t, like, laughing-dude or whatever, but you used to like a good joke. Something going on with your family? How’s your mom?”
Henley hunched over his desk, a little slumped, prone to sighing. He stared at the piece of paper under his hand. Things I Like About Her was the title of this paper, not assigned by any class he was taking. One column was all the things he liked about Éibhlín. He wanted to focus on what made her different from other people—“she’s very nice,” well, anyone could be very nice—and things he liked aside from her size. Because her size stood out. It was amazing, no one else in the world had it, except for the ill-tempered titans she worked with. Duibhne was an asshole, always making comments about how much time they spent together, asking rude questions. And that gesture, tapping on his wrist, Éibhlín wouldn’t explain it but it always upset her.
An ache stabbed at his lower back; he sucked a deep breath and twisted in his chair, corrected his posture. Half an hour ago, he started one column with things that were unique to her. Or maybe not so unique, like, he could just write a bunch of stuff out to get it out of the way and then focus on her specifically. So far, what made Éibhlín, Éibhlín was that she was pretty, friendly, and thoughtful. She had a great sense of humor (Cobie’s words came back to him and he tried to recall the last time he laughed at one of her jokes). She was very responsible and she was good with nature.
He scowled at the page. That was a stupid list. It was a dumb-stupid list like something a child would write about his … mother.
That provoked a deep shudder. He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, looking at the other column. There was nothing under it, it was simply titled “OR MAYBE YOU JUST LIKE HER BECAUSE SHE’S A GIANTESS.” He drew a deep breath until something sharp popped between his shoulder blades. That couldn’t be it, that couldn’t just be it. Of course her size and power were exciting, it would be disingenuous to pretend that wasn’t a thing. They hadn’t really made out yet, some polite kisses and a few more intense than that, but … He pursed his lips and looked around the room for something, he didn’t know what. She’d never held him in her hands like he imagined. He wanted, just once, to feel her hot palms against his body, her long, strong fingers wrapping around his chest. She could just about hold him like a large bottle of Coke, maybe. He wanted to see her huge face close in on him, bending down from the heavens, her huge eyes flickering to pick out the features of his face before they closed and her lips opened up and—
He closed his own eyes and snapped his head away, as if dodging that broad mouth. He raised his hands—one had slipped down between his thighs, over his jeans—and then he pushed himself away from his little desk and paced his little room. Goddamn it, anyway. He turned from that accusatory little note, column A full of tame, generic, impersonal qualities, column B fucking nailing him to the wall. If that’s all this was, just wanting to explore someone else’s body, well, what was wrong with that? What if it was a little fling? There was nothing wrong with that, lots of people did that. Shit, especially in college.
He slammed his hand down on the note and crumpled it up viciously. That wasn’t what he wanted with Éibhlín. This wasn’t just a fling, he really felt something with her. Yes, she was huge, but there was still a person inside there.
“We’re not animals.” She never did explain that sentence, and a couple weeks ago he stopped asking. It was just a weird thing to think about.
He looked again at her email, asking about the pizza date by the river. She always confirmed these things a couple times before they happened. Frowning, he glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen, patted for his wallet in his jeans, grabbed his keys, and ducked out.
“You never wrote back,” Éibhlín said, “so I didn’t know if you were going to meet me.”
The river was their place, now. They met at the same cleared bank, a mile out of campus, relatively isolated in the evenings. He grinned up at her. “You thought I was gonna eat three extra-large pizzas by myself? Of course I was going to meet you. Don’t be stupid.” He cut the volume on those last words, wondering where they came from. They weren’t funny.
She sat over him, her shiny shins folded behind where he sat, and she watched him open the top box on the stack. “I know how expensive these things are. You don’t have to keep paying so much for them. They’re just a nice taste for me, something I treat myself to. We do get a kind of per diem from the university, after all.” She gently stroked the back of his head with a large fingertip. “You’re already a big guy in my book, you don’t have to throw money at me.”
Big guy. Her touch never failed to set off a lava flow down his body, and he closed his eyes pleasurably as her touch nudged him forward. Goddamn it. But a big guy, was that what he was trying to do? The pizzas weren’t cheap, and he made a show of how casual it was to get three of them. That wasn’t his style, or it hadn’t been. “I just want to do something nice for you. Not like we can go bowling, or anything.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her words were quiet, almost lost in the evening vesper pulling itself over the treetops. “Not a lot we can do together.”
When he had the first box open, he saw that the pizza was sliced up. He grimaced and checked the next two boxes: fortunately, these were whole, as requested. “Hey, come here. How do you want to do this?”
Her head was raised, her chin was up, her eyes were taking in the river, watching it flow but more than that. It was like she was reading it or trying to memorize it.
“Éibhlín? You hungry?”
Her chuckle rocked her head and shoulders, swaying like a tree. “Always. That one for me? I’ll just pick up the box.” But when she reached for it, Henley didn’t let go. This gesture surprised himself as much as it did her. She tried to smile it away. “Oh, was that one yours? I can have the next one.”
“No, uh, no, it’s not that.” He scooted on the ground to face her more bodily and rose to his knees, holding the box up like an offering. “I thought it’d be fun to, you know … if I tried to feed you.” It’s true, he had been thinking about this, quite a lot lately, but once the words floated out between them, they felt weird. That was a weird thing to say and maybe a weird thing to think. She wasn’t an animal, after all.
Her lips slowly turned up into a grin. “That would be fun. Let’s see how that goes. Do you want to try sitting in my hand, first, feeding me that way?”
That’s what they tried. She lowered her hand to rest on her crossed calves, he gingerly stepped over her legs and plopped himself down in her palm, ever-attentive to the upright condition of the pizza. The gesture was far less erotic than he’d imagined, not that he pictured himself being held aloft this way. She was careful to keep him balanced, and his legs wrapped around her wrist for stability, and ultimately it did work out. Kinda.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said.
“I know what you were thinking. You were thinking I eat cars for breakfast, bales of hay, so an extra-large pizza shouldn’t be any problem.”
He shrugged and nodded, but once she held him up to her face, it was obvious this was not the case. Opening her jaws as wide as she could, she might have been able to squeeze his head inside, but the pizza was too large. They could only laugh at it. He hadn’t meant to be insulting, but his sense of scale was completely off. What he could do, while her fingers wrapped around his butt like an office chair, was fold the damn thing in half like a calzone and offer that up to her. The crust was hot and not yet oily, thankfully, so he tossed the box aside and carefully laid the front end of it upon her tongue. “Are your hingers ou’ o’ a-way?” And slowly she closed her jaws.
There. Henley was in the front-row seat to watch a giantess eat. Her teeth shone from under her raised lip, and when they sank into the pizza, he could feel it. He could feel the whole folded crust tug slightly in his hands. He watched the emergence of its tomato sauce and melted cheese guts as she gritted her teeth slowly, side to side, absolutely severing it from the portion he held. Hundreds of strands of cheese clung to her bite, over half the pizza, and he watched them snap and drape over her lower incisors and fat bottom lip. Her whole head reared back, only slightly, and her lips closed like curtains upon the spectacle. From there, who knew exactly what happened to half the extra-large pizza? Did she mash it against the roof of her mouth, peeling it open? Would she guide it to her molars and mash all the goodness out of it? Hell, she could probably dump the whole thing down her throat, but that would be a waste of good pizza.
Her huge lips pursed and churned before him as she slid it between her incisors, nibbling it to death. Only then did he remember to breathe, and upon breathing, he looked up. The whole time, Éibhlín had been staring at him, watching him perched in her palm, watching his reactions as he folded the food for her and placed it in her mouth. She had been staring at him the whole time, while he gawked at her powerful teeth and thick lips, and he wondered if her huge eyes could see straight into his puny skull and all the lurid thoughts he’d been struggling with for days.
“Entertaining?”
“Uh, what?”
“You look like you’re watching the best movie you’ve ever seen.” A crease ran down from the edge of her nostril to the corner of her mouth, and she smirked.
He babbled for a moment, trying to find the words, then finally commented on feeling like a one-year-old baby balancing in its father’s hand. She set him back down on the grass and he pulled out a large slice for himself. Taking a chance, he leaned back against her knee so they could both watch the river, and she didn’t object.
“I’m sorry for staring, but yeah, it was fascinating.” He cut her off before she could comment on his experience. “Not like feeding something at the zoo. The whole experience was extremely familiar, but … suddenly … very different. Not familiar. It wouldn’t be the same if someone had just done a close-up video of a woman eating. No, I don’t think so.” He measured his next bite to capture a measure of cheese but also a sizeable chunk of sausage, then nibbled the crust to balance it out. “Watching it up close on a screen, you could see all the details, sure, but it doesn’t carry any of the power of watching something—someone—much larger than yourself taking food into her mouth and chewing it apart.”
One of her hands picked at the grass, which was superfine to her touch, almost like moisture itself. The other rested on her thigh and one of her fingertips founds its way to the soft meat between his shoulder and neck. “No, I get it. Like, I like watching you eat or drink something. It’s the same thing that I do, but the way you do it is …” Her head bobbed sideways in thought. “I don’t want to say more refined, but there’s something precious to it. Not like a chipmunk, which is incredibly cute, but just like you said. Someone like me, doing something I would do, but much, much smaller.”
“You like watching me eat?” He craned his body around and opened his jaws as wide as he could, sticking out his tongue coated in half-chewed food.
Éibhlín yelped with laughter, then leaned down and did the same thing, but much larger. Henley found himself staring into her oral cavity, hell, her oral cavern. Her lips twitched slightly as they pulled back around her gleaming rows of teeth, the bottom one buried beneath the writhing pillow of her pink, glistening tongue and a payload of masticated pizza. She laughed, and he could see the cloister of her throat working, the arched ridges of tissue and muscle flexing, spreading right in front of his face. She laughed, and she gusted humid pizza-currents into his eyes and nostrils and hair.
He loved it. He was hypnotized. Part of him wanted to be scared, but it was located right next to the part that wanted this big, beautiful woman to seize him in her hands and smooch him dry of blood.
Slowly the laughter died and the food retreated, pulled within and sealed with her pursed lips. “I’m sorry, was that too gross? That’s just something me and my friends do, I didn’t think about how it might look to you.”
“It was fucking hot,” he said sadly.
She sharply sucked her breath through her nose and looked up at the river, still chewing. He likewise turned back to the river and thought about the physics of wrapping the last couple of inches of pizza around the crust, because unlike the rest of the world he hated the crust. It was just dry, dense bread, in stark contrast to the party of flavors the rest of the slice carried. He focused on this very hard in an attempt to stave off the embarrassing echo of his words banging around in his skull.
“Why do you say things like that.” Her voice, above him, was quiet and tender.
He shrugged, letting the bones of her knee dig into his back. “I don’t know. I guess I want to put everything out there, so you don’t discover I’m some fucking weirdo, and you wonder what you got yourself into. I don’t want to hide anything, spring it on you sometime down the line. You can decide right now if you want to get mixed up with some kind of freak or not.”
Then her fingers did slide around his chest, and she did hold him not quite like a two-liter bottle of Coke, but close. It was nothing for her to roll him around in her grip and lift him off the ground like a baby. His legs dangled, the webbing between her thumb and index finger dug into his armpits, he supposed because she didn’t want to crush him with her grip. But she lifted him up to her face, so close that if he were her size their noses would’ve touched. Instead, his eyes looked directly into her huge eyes, he had to turn his head slightly to peer into each one, and his chin brushed over the tip of her nose. It was a little silly, a little scary, and very intimate.
She drew a deep breath that sucked the air around his neck. “Then let me put it all out there, too. I want some of those things, too. I want to …”
Amazingly, she blushed (a pretty effect as the sun went down) and glanced away for a second. “I want to … Ever since the first day I saw you, it’s weird, but I just wanted to lick your face. When you tripped over my boots because I snuck up on you, don’t ask me how that happened, and you looked so goofy, trying to recover? My stomach tightened and my fingers flexed and I wanted to grab you and lick you like candy. I don’t know where that came from, it was just instinct. I saw you, your sweet little face, you looked sorry and scared and confused as hell, and I just wanted to …”
They stared at each other for a moment. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding against her thumb.
“Fuck it,” she murmured, and she brought him down for a big, full-faced kiss. She tilted him, and he tilted his head, and her thick lips puckered and wrapped around his nose and completely around his jaw. Hundreds of taste buds flickered over his lips. The blunt tip of her tongue briefly toyed with parting his lips, and he opened his jaws to receive her, but it was quickly apparent that wouldn’t work. But they kissed, they did, with Éibhlín sucking gently on his face and Henley nestling his cheekbones between her teeth and kissing everything his little mouth could reach.
After some minutes they parted, slowly, and Éibhlín giggled to see a strand of her own saliva catch the rays of the setting sun, from her lip to his cheek. “Sorry about that,” she said as he wiped it on his sleeve. “You’ve been driving me crazy. I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move, and you never did, so I told myself that before the sun went down on another day, I was going to suck your face off.”
She held him in her two palms now, reclining in her hands, his legs dangling off into eternity for all he cared. “I’ve wanted this for so long, too. I think about it all the time.”
“But I don’t want you to think I’m just interested in you because you’re small. All right? It’s not like that. You’re cute because of your size, but everyone at the farmers market is your size. Everything I like about you is either because of who you are or it’s even cuter at your size.” She grinned, all the way up to her eyes. “Is that awful?”
He stared at her for another minute before his laughter burbled up and made him jerk in her grasp. “Objectify me,” he told her.
She licked her lips, shifted him to one broad palm, and her fingers plucked at the hem of his shirt, clearing the way for another oversized kiss.
Photo by Minku Kang on Unsplash
Aborigen 
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