Greta I - Moving Day

Greta Part One: Moving Day
By SmallFrye


Every second or so, the ground shook. My metal basin fell off
the crude table and rolled across the room. I rolled over in
my bed, drawing the coarse wool blanket over my head and, in
the process, knocking yesterday's notes to the ground. It
couldn't be ten o'clock already.

Her rumbling footsteps got louder. I could hear the King's
Forest splintering underfoot now. Was she RUNNING? The
morning light seeped between a gap in my wallboards, striking
the makeshift sundial on the floor. Five-thirty. I threw the
blanket off, leapt across the cabin and hurled myself out the
door.

"God Dammit, Greta!" I shouted, "You're four and a half hours
early!" I immediately felt foolish -- she wasn't near me yet.
I shivered on the wet, thrumming grass, annoyed at her,
annoyed at myself, desperately craving more than four hours'
sleep. The morning mist swirled, the birds leapt up from the
trees. I saw her from the knees up, slowing herself at the
forest's edge. Then taking one last half-step, Greta burst
out from the trees and came to a panting halt before me.

Crabby as I was, I was always a little awestruck at the
sight. Crouching, hands on her knees, Greta's eyes were still
150 feet above mine. Standing up, she was a good 200 feet
tall -- a mere slip of a giant. Most of her family towered
over her, but, of course, she was incomprehensibly immense to
me. At a more civil hour, I would have been glad to see her.
She was a lovely, athletic 19-year old the only real friend I
had in this dimension.

"LISTEN, DUDE! I--" she took a deep breath of air. Before she
could go on, I lit into her.

"No, YOU listen, dude! I don't appreciate your barreling
through here like Godzilla and his Amazing Friends, five
hours early! I've got half a mind to cancel your lessons! Do
you call this discreet? You must have thrown half of
Traddenburg out of bed!"

Her piercing gray eyes flicked nervously toward Traddenburg,
on the horizon. "WHAT'S GODZILLA?"

"None of your business! Leave me alone!" I slammed the door
behind me, and harumphed back into bed. She didn't leave.
Outside I heard her ragged leather boots mashing the gound as
she shifted her weight.

"DUDE. I'M NOT HERE FOR MATH." I covered my ears with
blanket. Presently, her knuckle rapped on the roof, almost
caving it in.

"WAKE UP, DUDE." With a tremendous wrenching sound, Greta
flipped the roof up with her thumbs, sending part of a beam
crashing down inches from my head. I feigned sleep, out of
sheer stubbornness. But as her yard-wide fingers ineptly
scooped up half of my belongings, I realized something was
up.

"THERE'S A RUMOR THAT THE TOWN'S COMING TO KILL YOU AND BURN
YOUR HOUSE. THE KING TOLD THEM YOU'RE EVIL."

"Says who? Some idiot fairy?" I dodged her neatly trimmed
third fingernail, as she picked at some papers in the corner.

"THE SWAN PRINCE. HE SAYS YOU'VE BEEN SEEN TOO MANY TIMES
WITH ME -- AND HIM, AND OTHER NONHUMANS."

The Swan Prince was generally a reliable source. He kept his
ear to the ground.

You may have guessed I didn't come to this place on purpose,
this comic-opera dimension with giants and fairies and
talking swans and clever little hamlets. I tested a
dimensional gateway of my own design without taking a few
precautions, and zap! I'm eligible for a Nobel Prize before
I'm twenty-five, with no chance of ever collecting. Or even
notifying the Nobel Committee.

But the past two years hadn't been wasted; I'd found a
kindred spirit, looming 200 feet above me.

Greta's ambition and natural curiosity were proportionate to
the rest of her. Giants, in contrast to the prosperous people
of Traddenburg, Kingdom of Thisaria, lived in extreme poverty
in a barren, rocky area by the sea. Greta hoped to
singlehandedly improve her lot, and her people's.

The day we met she began asking questions. Soon, she had
mastered English (Giantspeak didn't come easily to me) and
was following me around like a magnificent puppy, asking
practical questions about building materials and societies
and even literature, all of which I answered as best I could.
(Not always to her satisfaction. For instance, I could never
fully explain why Bugs Bunny was a good guy.)

She talked me into becoming her private tutor, in exchange
for whatever help she could give me. As it turned out, it had
been quite a lot. If I wanted to make another dimensional
gateway and get home, I'd need a few miracles. The good
people of Traddenburg had no interest in digging ore or
building a smelting furnace, so Greta lent me her back as she
challenged my brain. And now, she was saving my hide.

"HURRY, DUDE. I CAN SEE THEM LEAVING TOWN." She
unceremoniously dumped me off the bed, onto the floor. She
stood up, sliding my belongings off her fingers into a deep
pocket of her dress. She looked around. "THAT'S EVERYTHING."
She stooped at the waist and picked me up. Her warm palm
protected me from the cold morning.

"What about the furnace?"

"OTHER POCKET. HEY, YOU'RE NOT DRESSED AND I PACKED YOUR
CLOTHES!" I realized I was in my boxer shorts, which after
two years were not entirely useful. Her freckled smiling face
was a canopy above me.

"ARE THOSE YOUR LITTLE UNDERPANTS? DUDE, THEY'RE SO RATTY!
YOU LOOK LIKE A GIANT." She smiled wistfully at her own
weatherbeaten wool rags.

"Sure." I pressed the ball of my foot on the fleshy part of
her thumb. "Look, I'm stepping on you." Greta shook with
laughter.

She turned her head toward town and stopped laughing. "HERE
THEY COME," she whispered. "FOLLOW MY LEAD." She put me on
the ground, halfway between her building-sized boots. Greta
put her hands on her hips and scowled down at me.

The good citizens of Traddenburg, armed with farm implements,
bustled up the path to my home. The mayor gabbled in
Thisarian, "Stand aside, giant! We have business with this
one who calls himself Popeye." (I had never given my actual
name, Felton Smith, to anybody but Greta, who never used it.
Call it superstition.)

Greta responded in Giantspeak. Few villagers understood her
words, but the tone was unmistakeable. "BE OFF! I AM ABOUT TO
KILL THIS SMALL THING. HE HAS BROKEN THE LAWS BETWEEN OUR
PEOPLES. GIANT TO GIANT, HUMAN TO HUMAN AND FAIRY TO FAIRY.
ISN'T THAT RIGHT, ANT?"

She stomped the ground before me, knocking me down and
shaking up the townies. "HE HAS BEEN SNEAKING INTO MY BED AT
NIGHT, HAVEN'T YOU, SMALL ONE?" She prodded me with her boot.
"I FOUND HIM THIS MORNING ABOUT MY PERSON, AND THEN ONLY
BECAUSE I AWOKE RESTLESS AND CUUDGJIV."

The few who understood Giantspeak gasped as Greta picked me
up and thundered. "I WILL TAKE HIM HOME AGAIN AND THROW HIM
IN THE OCEAN." She dropped me in her pocket. I clattered down
past my table, picking up a splinter. "ON SECOND THOUGHT, WHY
WAIT? I WILL KILL HIM NOW."

Her massive, strong fingers rooted around in the pocket,
knocking me into the legs of my bed. Her index finger brushed
against me, but it was the table that she grabbed. I yanked
open a peephole in the ropy weave of her pocket to see the
rest of the show.

Above me Greta's chest heaved like diva's as she addressed
the table. "YOU FILTH! YOU MUST NOT LIVE ANOTHER MOMENT!" She
flung the table into the cabin with a satisfying KLUNK. Then,
as the crowd stood, stupefied, she lovered her boot over the
shredded roof, covering it. She brought the house down with a
gradual creaking, followed by the pop of the oilskin windows
and a splintering crunch as she ground her boot into the
dirt.

Suddenly, I was rocketed upward, then in freefall with all my
stuff. Then up again. She was jumping on my house, my
foundry, my privy, grinding them all into meal.

"NOT-- ANOTHER-- MOMENT!" She screamed, almost deafening me
and the assemblage. Then, wiping a stray platinum-blonde hair
from her face, she sighed. "NOW GO. PEACE HAS BEEN RESTORED
BETWEEN OUR PEOPLES."

Soon, I heard the King's Forest crashing below her knees as I
swayed with her unhurried steps. A hand probed the pocket,
gently, and hauled me up to her face, alight with merriment.

"WELL?"

"A-plus, Greta. You almost convinced me that I was dead."

"DID YOU LIKE THE GIANTSPEAK? I THOUGHT IT WAS A NICE TOUCH.
COULD YOU FOLLOW?"

"You have a dirty mind, girl. I understood perfectly." She
thundered amusement.

Soon, she cupped me between her hands. "GUESS WHERE WE ARE?"

She'd come to a halt in one of our favorite places, which
we'd named Study Valley. A splashy little creek dropped 100
feet off of a rocky ledge, created a deep pool and continued
through a grassy valley. In her hands, I heard the waterfall
and felt her sit down.

"Duh."

"YES, I KNOW. YOU HEARD THE WATER." She opened her
hands and studied me in her lap.

"Hey, Greta? There was one word I didn't understand. I got
the idea, but--"

"CUUDGJIV?" Her Giantspeak echoed off the ledge.

"Yeah."

Her gray eyes scanned the clouds. She smiled, and put her
head back against the ledge. "LET'S SEE. 'CUUDGJIV' I GUESS A
LITERAL TRANSLATION WOULD BE, 'IN NEED OF RELEASE.' LIKE
'HORNY,' I GUESS." Her eyes flicked at me.

"Horny? I never taught you that word."

"BEFORE YOU TAUGHT ME ENGLISH, YOU USED TO TALK TO YOURSELF A
LOT."

Oh. I was embarassed, then confused. "You remember what I
said, before you could decipher it?" She shrugged, in that
self-effacing, mountainous way of hers. I was moved. "Greta,
you're amazing. Thanks for saving my life, and that hilarious
lie you thought up..."

"IT WASN'T TOTALLY A LIE." Her eyebrows arched as she
looked down at me. As my gaze met hers, a hundred feet away,
I felt something scared and brave and foolish welling up
in me, like the urge to step off a cliff.

She gently lifted my arms with her index finger. "I AM
UNBELIEVABLY HORNY, DUDE." She raised me by the arms to
within a few feet of her face, and, carefully, rolled my
tattered boxers down my legs with a thumb that was as wide as
I was tall.

I was electrified as she drew me to her mouth, her soft lips
playing across my legs as she spoke. "ANY SUGGESTIONS?" her
whisper was hot and dry, music blowing through me.

"Greta... I mean, well... I think I'm in love with you."

Her laughter hit me like a bomb, and not just because I was
within a foot of her mouth. "REALLY?" She tossed me up in the
air, deftly catching me. "IN LOVE?" Her peals of laughter
shook the valley. She held me at arms length over the pool,
and let go.

I dropped like a stone into the cold water, heartbroken. I'd
confessed something I never even realized myself, watching
her lithe body hard at work, or her forehead puckering over
the tiny calculus problems I'd chalk on her parking lot-sized
slate.

This magnificent woman did everything on a grand scale. She
worked, dreamed, wept, thought, laughed and loved with such
force that I was insignificant by comparison. What was I to
a woman who hoped one day to give her family a magnificent
castle, half a mile high? Who could draw up the plans, choose
the materials and raise the edifice on her own? How could I
think that Greta LOVED me, when she'd only said she
was HORNY? What had she called me? Ant? What could I ever be
to her, except a tiny ant to scratch her enormous itch?

As I rushed toward the surface, Greta's right foot, now bare,
rushed toward me, missing by inches. I saw the left hit the
surface, then come even closer.

I broke the surface, gasping. Greta was naked, sitting in
water that barely touched her calves. She was still laughing,
lifting me out of the water. Her dress and boots lay in a
crumpled hill on the valley floor.

"IT'S SO FUNNY!" She gasped, "YOU ACTUALLY LOVE ME! AND I
LOVE YOU, TOO!"

My heart repaired itself immediately, then melted.

Greta leaned back in the water, as far as she could. Her
waist and part of her tummy were submerged. She placed me,
gently, on her face, and we kissed.

After I had rubbed every part of myself on her lips, her
mouth popped open and I tumbled into the sweet pulsing
darkness of her mouth. I was swirled around, under her
tongue, over her tongue, then between her lips and teeth.
Exhausted, I stuck my arm between her lips and tried to push
out. Her tongue finally came to my rescue, pushing me between
her hot, soft lips and onto her freckled face. I straddled
her nose, looking deep into her vast gray eyes. She smiled
behind me.

"WHAT NOW?"

I lowered myself to her lips again. Slightly parted, they
were as tall as I was. My lovely, sweet Greta carefully,
gently, wrapped her feverish lips around my penis and sucked
ever so slightly, bringing me to a jolting orgasm that she
must have barely felt. But that's when I knew it was real:
Her face lit up in ecstasy, and her back arched up, just from
knowing what was passing between us. She exhaled sharply
through her nose, almost blowing me off her chin. Her eyes
popped open, and she wiggled her jaw around, trying to see
me.

I dropped onto her neck, walked onto her collarbone, and
whispered to her ear, "Moving right along..." I felt her
smile.

I skidded down the gentle slope of her chest, between two
enormous firm breasts, toward the water, and the wet jungle
of her pubic mound breaking the surface of the water. As I
set foot in that sweet, pungent marsh, Greta's thumb and
forefinger lifted me up into the air. I grabbed a handful of
wet stiff hairs as thick as knitting yarn, but they slipped
through my fingers. She brought me to a nipple the size of a
fifty-gallon drum, and pressed me deep into the puckered
flesh.

"SLOW DOWN, DUDE. SAVE DOWN THERE FOR WHEN WE GET HOME."

"Home?"

Greta, immense, wonderful Greta, cradled me between her
breasts, tucking her chin in to get a good look at me.

"YOU'RE COMING HOME WITH ME TONIGHT, LOVER."

I crawled up and out, straddled the sweet left nipple and let
my member speak for me. For the second time, I came. "That's
two I owe you."

She laughed, toppling me off her breast and into the water.
"TWO? THREE'S THE BARE MINIMUM, DUDE."

I could hardly wait to scratch that itch...

End O' Part One