0.2—180604
"Look at that puny foot! Look at it, down there!" Carlo laughed and planted his fists on his hips. "Ho, ho, ho! Who's expected to walk around on such a wretched little thing?"
Saundra beamed at him and wiggled her toes at him, flexing them upon the Turkish rug, her nails glistening in the late morning light. Playfully, she trapped his ankle between her fourth and pinky toes. Carlo jerked back in surprise, caught himself, and scowled, his cheeks reddening.
"That's how you want to play it, huh?" he barked. "Be careful, lest you unleash the tiger!" He took a swing at her shin, in a moment of bad judgment, striking her smooth bone rather than her toned calf with just a scrim of protective fat. Carlo yelped in pain, shaking his fist out, but his girlfriend's sympathetic cooing seemed to rile him further. With a mighty growl he drew up one knee, then brought his bare heel down upon her toenail. She jerked, her huge foot retreating a short distance.
"That hurt," she said. Her heart was pounding as she looked down at him. The little man stared back up at her, his eyes nearly as wide as his mouth. Before he could apologize she squatted down, her calves bulging around his curly brown hair, and scooped him up into her hands. "That actually hurt! Oh, my mighty little man!" It took both hands to contain him as she rammed him into her face over and over again, covering him in glossy pink lipstick from his fine, wriggling toes to his head the size of a premium gumball. He was laughing too, his tiny hands pushing at her face, actually shoving her lips away from her teeth and gums with previously unimaginable strength.
That night, as they lay in bed, Carlo placed his palms upon his lover's mons and wriggled his foot into the slick, reddening folds of her private chambers. Her burning skin slid up over his knee, and when the labia bumped against his balls, he drew up his other leg and slid that in as well. Saundra moaned loudly, and Carlo was excited to turn her on so much with so little effort.
Gasping, massaging her breasts, she asked if he said something.
"I'm going to miss being in there," he said quietly. He cycled his legs vigorously to preclude her response.
0.6—180608
Carlo stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk. He'd been staring at his girlfriend's knee and wasn't paying attention to where he was going.
She was wearing a denim skirt and an oversized band T-shirt, with China flats. Just schlubbing on a casual day, going for a walk with her boyfriend in the sunshine. Her bare skin hinted at the tendons and muscles working beneath. He could easily imagine the massive femur within, dumping all that unrelenting weight upon her tibia and fibula, bound together with connective tissue, catching her effortlessly every time his girlfriend fell forward slightly and took another step.
He had been stroking her skin, muttering to himself. When she asked him if he'd said something, he called up (not quite as loud as before), "I was just saying, so much detail is lost." Absently she asked him what he meant, and she didn't listen to his answer.
"Your goosebumps. They're just..." He stroked one, wheedling the surprisingly fine hair between his fingertips. "I used to study the little triangles that connected every follicle to each other, on your legs, your forearms." He grinned slightly. "I named them. Constellations, reliable patterns I'd check in on so I knew how close I was to your elbow, or how far down to your foot. Or your crotch." In the moment he glanced up her skirt, that's when they passed the oak tree, and that's where his foot caught on the pavement upheaved by its roots.
Every nerve ending in Saundra's body responded to his shriek. It was louder than before, clearer, but of a lower register. It was the familiarity of his alarm that woke up her matronly protection. She swept her China flats away from him and knelt, studying his environment. "Are you okay? Oh my God, Carlo! What happened?"
But there he sat on the sidewalk, giggling nervously, legs splayed, feet pointing cutely upward. He looked up at her, into her achingly concerned face shadowed from the sun by waves of long mahogany hair, and he blushed. One slender arm rose and pointed at the slightly broken pavement. A month ago, that irregularity would have been an abyss that swallowed him. He would have had to cling to a fortuitous mass of cemented sand while Saundra fished him out with dental floss.
"I just needed to pick up my feet," he said. "I just needed to watch where I was going." He stared up at her as though he didn't understand the words coming out of his mouth.
That night, as they lay in bed, Saundra asked whether Carlo was distracted or not in the mood.
"Well, I have to..." he started, then laughed. His arms rested comfortably upon her thighs, as his knees dug into the mattress and made twin indentations. He stared at them, his arms and his knees. Sighing, he pressed his palms deep into the giant woman's labia, marveling at how much more he could grab. He spread his fingers to bunch up many folds of tissue in his hands, and he pulled them apart. With relatively little effort, Carlo spread his girlfriend's pussy open and stared into the clenching, glistening channel.
With irritation creeping into her voice, she asked him if something was wrong. He apologized, took a deep breath, and shoved his entire head into her vulva. His shoulders butted up against her labia, but he was able to work her clit without straining. At least that.
1.0—180612
She ignored it naturally at first, but as the crying intensified something told her to pay attention. Saundra looked up and set her book upon her towel. She shielded her eyes from the sun, scanning the beach: teenaged boys playing rough with teenaged girls in the waves, fat parents turning lobster-pink beneath the cloudless sky. Four surfers taking turns for tasty waves in the distance, and beyond them, elegant and perky white sails drifting almost imperceptibly slow upon the calm, blue waters.
"Ha ha!" Carlo roared. "Down it comes! Eat that, petty tyrant!"
Pinching her lips, she followed the echolocation and found her boyfriend merrily trampling a sand castle as though he were the Italian stereotype of a barefoot grape-stomper. Nearby, small children in garish swim trunks wailed miserably to the heavens. She swore not entirely under her breath and trotted over to him. "Carlo! Carlo, knock that off this second! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"How do you like it, you little asswipe?" His sturdy leg bolted out and his foot blasted through a rather skillfully constructed parapet. Deep, dark cracks immediately formed and it collapsed under its own damp weight. Carlo thrust his fists to the sky and howled. "And there go your dry reserves! It'll take a day to dig out your fruits and nuts now, if you can find them at all! How do you like it?"
Parents in the area were taking notice, ready to advance upon whomever was bullying their children, but they froze in their tracks to see his arms not covered in baby fat and his five o'clock shadow. Saundra wrapped her fist around his entire bicep, and she was surprised at the mass she had to yank away, how he fought as she hauled him back to her beach towel. "What the hell were you thinking, Carlo? Those were kids!"
His eyes glinted in the summer sun. "Yes, little bastards that routinely ruin everything I've worked for!" He craned to cast an evil eye at the children. "I think I recognized one of them. I think he's from our neighborhood. That little prick−"
"Carlo, they're children!"
"That little prick brought a trowel to dig up my hideaway." He stared at her, looking down into her gaze as she sat on the towel and he stood between her legs. "That's malice aforethought. You know how long it took to scavenge all that food? And I hate dried peaches! But I was grateful for them, and that little asshole−"
"Carlo!"
Before he could reply, a young couple walked by with a small, white, fluffy dog spasming at the end of its leash. It barked at everyone and everything, but when it yipped at Carlo, he shrieked monster, monster! and darted behind his girlfriend's back.
"You're four times its size, you know," she chided, smirking. "You could throttle it in one arm now. You could take up a stick large enough to do it some damage."
Carlo only muttered about old habits, pressing his face into the chocolate bun of Saundra's hair, loosely wrapping his own little arms around her neck, without even standing on his tippy-toes. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder blade.
She could.
1.77—180619
"This fucking," Rafael said, waving his arms where words failed him. "I can't even."
Naomi leaned in, creating a conspiratorial triangle with him and Brandon. "I know, right? I understand his circumstances, but this is too much. It's not like racism, you know, where you have to embrace terrorist culture, but..." Rafael glared at her and she insisted he knew what she meant.
Before Brandon could ask what was to be done, there was a terrific crash of metal and plastic in the aisle. Something broke, and a susurration of papers dulled the noise, blew across the floor in drifts.
"Ha ha!" Carlo bellowed. "All quail before me! I am an unstoppable force of nature!"
Rafael's eyes rolled. "He's doing it again. I'm gonna fucking take a personal day in two seconds." The three stood up and peeked around his cubicle at the new disaster. Carlo strode down the office aisle, his shiny and well-fitting shoes rising up and pounding down upon the tight gray carpeting. An office cart lay on its side, with two laptops lying within it at odd angles and reams of paper spilled in all directions.
"Behold my might!" he roared, planting his hand squarely in a project manager's chest. The PM barely moved, but Carlo brayed in victory, tromping his way down to the water fountain. "Inferious wretch! Away with thee!" He grappled with the enameled steel box, colored the same as the floor, but was unable to dislodge it from the wall. He declared, in his magnanimity, that he would leave it in place for the balm of his lessors, then went on to menace the copier.
Brandon bit his lip. "Is this, like, something for HR?"
Naomi snorted. "They're the ones who made us take him on and train him. You really think they'll help?" A fire alarm went off, followed by victorious laughter.
That night, as they were getting ready for bed, Saundra swore through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Goddamn it, Carlo! I almost fell over you! What are you doing there, anyway?"
Carlo lay on the cold, tiled floor of the bathroom, staring up at his girlfriend. In tortured whispers he begged her to ignore him.