Fulda's shoe hangs above you, a rubber diamond centered directly over your head as she ponders your plea. After a few seconds she moves it back to where it was and sets it down in front of you. Relieved, you lean forward against the toe of her shoe, gasping for breath you didn't know you had been holding.
The giant leg before you bends, the act of squatting enough to push her shin out above you. From the side a humongous arm curves around her sculpted legs, thumb and forefinger at the ready. As her fingers overtake you, you feel a strong tug on your collar as your shirt is pinched by Fulda's powerful digits.
Slowly Fulda stands, holding you close against her as she does so. From her shins up you feel the full weight of your significance: her kneecaps alone are taller than you, after all, and her thighs are more like mesas than parts of her legs. You can feel the heat from her midsection as you pass it since her tank top does a poor job insulating, and she practically rubs you against her breasts as she lifts you past them.
Finally she gets you up to lip level, her enormous face exuding mercurial confidence. Her icy blue eyes are lit up with delight, and she puckers her lips at you before going into a smile. "You need to work on your begging," she says. "Maybe a bit more pleading would do you some good, hmm?" You do your best to stare into at least one of your eyes while she decides what to do.
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