Leeze took a good five minutes to amble over to the furthest table in the last row of tables in the bland conference room, and another five minutes to saunter up the spiral staircase around the leftmost leg of it. The steps were perforated steel that made just the right sort of resonance with her perilously high heels and platform soles.
It was a glorious racket, and Leeze took her time. The beige fabric-covered wall partitions absorbed any stray echoes, to her annoyance, but the message was sent regardless. There was doubtlessly a middle-aged goon in a badly faded company polo-shirt, disastrously tucked into dad-jeans over a spare tire at the front of the class, wringing his hands before the whiteboard. She hadn’t even bothered to glance that way, and she smirked as she realized the plastic-and-pressboard table top resonated under her heels even better than the metal steps.
She found the little table atop the larger table, at the corner of the room furthest from the door at its front, chucked her oversized and overpriced handbag into the second-furthest chair, pulled out the furthest chair, and sat on the edge of the little table instead, checking her smartwatch while kicking her long, booted legs back and forth. She was ten minutes late.
A deep train-trestle rumble shook her bones, and she sighed, held up a finger, and said, “Wait a minute, honey, I don’t have my ears in.”
Leeze leaned back across the table, nimble as a contortionist, and fished through her oversized and overpriced handbag for her earbuds and mic, the latter set into an elaborate leather choker she slowly and deliberately brought ever so tight as she buckled it. The former transformed useless giant rumble-mumble into useful person-speak. She sat up slowly as she stuffed in the earbuds, not even bothering to look up.
“Ms. Smalls?” asked a shockingly young and deep voice through her electronics. She bothered to look up. Her eyes rode the elevator, beginning at the top, headed down, nice and slow.
To begin with, his hair was so dark, at first glance it appeared black, but had glistening notes of walnut brown and mahogany red. It was short and well cut and kempt, with neat, tight curls kept in check by some sort of pomade she was sure smelled amazing.
She was likewise certain he had a face, but she’d get lost in his eyes later, after she scoped the bod. Well, for one, he had a suit. A nice one. A very nice one, she was kind of wiggle-squirming looking at it. Tailored by people her size to precisely compliment his broad, strong shoulders. His hips were only wide enough to constrain a perfect rump that the jacket draped oh, so languidly across. It wasn’t a cheap suit, either, no synthetics. Exquisitely fine slate-grey woolen cloth, stretchy and sublime - half of Wales must have been cloned and shorn for this one!
And. That. Tie.
Thunderous thighs and taught calves were very well delineated under the soft, stretchy, expensive NuWool, as was the too-small-suit fashion amongst the Littles, adopted with effortless ease by this giant. Her eyes found where the cuffs met the ankles, and saw… bootleather? NO! How high up? Further investigation warranted! Some of the giants let go of the Old Ways only reluctantly, and were shod in black and shiny and decadently high and… wait. Stick to the plan.
Her eyes went slowly back up, lingered at bit where the twin oaks met, and locked on-target there for a quarter-minute at least. This big’un was big even for big’un’s. She tore her eyes away from the tasteful bulge to the of-course-tasteful brushed nickel buckle and probably genuine megalodon shark-leather of his belt. She imagined the muscle structure that flat, fitted dress-shirt was hiding. His tie! She had an instinct to huddle and protect that tie from all harm. It was so pretty and perfect and she could make her California King sized bed with it.
“I am ready,” Leeze said to herself, “I am ready to look him in the eye and…"
He was harmfully handsome. Deep, dark eyes just a bit too large for a very high cheek-boned face, with a jaw that could sink ships, and lips that could whisper them back to the surface. But.
He was nervous. Confused. Scared. Nice. Harmless. Awwwww…
Leeze rolled her eyes. So close to perfection! He was shaking the earth as he approached her table in the farthest back corner of the farthest back row, awkwardly side-stepping around the closely spaced Giant Tables and their attendant Giant Chairs. It would be hot and scary, but he had a clipboard. A clipboard. Play-it-by-the-rules hottie. Sure. This wasn’t her first Rodeo.
“BBBBWWAAAAUUUGHBWAUBBBBBBUBBBBUBBBBAHHHHHGGGGGVVVGGGVVV” said the giant as she took out her tinny little earbuds and replaced them with her sweet Koss cans, “Come again?"
“Could you sign in, please?” asked the giant through her over-the-ear headphones. The bass-response was AMAZING. He gently laid the clipboard down upon the big tabletop a few paces away, and by force of habit, left his pen at the top. A very expensive Sailor brand retractable fountain pen, with it’s aerodyne nib in all of its gold and rhodium glory exposed. Glory be, that was the bluest ink she had ever seen in a giant nib’s reservoir and line-thingy, Giant Ink being an extremely high-surface tension liquid, pretty much a gel, the colors would be magnified, but still. Some giants liked old fashioned things that were actually new, but felt old. Like this pen. Not her first rodeo.
She glanced up at where the instructor had signed his name in legible and elegant script. No human her size writing script at their own scale could compare with the beauty of his mere signature. Leeze sighed. Dreamy! Back to work, making him mine, she thought with the same mental process that a dog fighting a bear locks into fur and flesh with powerful jaws. She TUNK-BAPPED across the table and then tic-TOCKed on the acrylic clipboard, leaned over where he could get a good view of her pencil-skirted bottom as she struck just the right pose. She took either side of the fire-hydrant wide black-laquered brass barrel of the pen, and pretended to lift.
“MMMM! …oop!” she grunted and squeaked oh so cutely, “Let me try again!”
She snuck a glimpse back and up, and noted his eyes anywhere and everywhere save her derriere. Gotcha!
“Perhaps you should use a pen of your own?” asked the giant.
Leeze stood upright, and gave him a thumbs-up, “Good thinkin’ Coach!”
“Ms. Smalls…” began the giant.
“Aww, call me Leeze!” said Leeze.
“Ms. Smalls…" the giant began again.
“No, hun, it’s fine to call me Leeze,” said Leeze.
The giant took on a brightened look, and smiled with those amazeballs lips, and how his thick-but-not-bushy brows raised in pleased excitement.
“Leeze, I’m Mr. Killsallgods, but you can call me Crush. It’s short for Crushiaranikak. Perhaps you should use a pen of your own?” asked the hyper-handsome HR instructor.
“I would, BUT! I forgot my pen at home, Crrrush?” said Leeze in her best little-girl lost voice.
“OK, next week, please remember to bring a pen?” implored her giant studmuffin. Her Crush. He lifted the clipboard, easily the size of a professional basketball court from the table and placed it into the messenger bag right by his desk. This gave Leeze a sublimely perfect view of his glutes through stretchy NuWool trousers as he bent over, his broad back and narrow waist to her at first, and now his butt and then cut-and-ripped legs as he bent over to stow the clipboard and paper. Boy works out.
NICE. And the boots did go a fair way up! At least as high up as his tightly fit and unfashionably cuffed trouser hems rode up his legs when he was face-down and ass-up. Goodenough. Crush! For real?
“Okay,” said the huge slab of perfectly honed man-meat seven stories tall in a suit, “I have a video we should watch!”
He looked up and saw no-one in his class, except for Leeze, who was looking at him in a way he found uncomfortable. He rushed to press play on his cheap notebook. What showed up on the classroom monitor were crumbling buildings afire and tiny people fleeing in the streets… and then it ended abruptly.
“That was my blooding-feast, before the Big/Tiny accords, just a bit of nostalgia for my friends of the time. I must assure you, Ms. Smalls, I am not that man anymore. It’s why I have to teach this class,” said Mr. Crush Killsallgods the Giant, adorkably.
“Oh, I know,” said Leeze, “But I’m a fan of the old-school.”
“And what do you mean by that? No. Please! Let’s just watch the video?” implored Mr. Killsallgods.
“Push the button, TV’s son of TV’s Frank!” she said, lounging back in her chair. She watched old Netflix while at work when she was landing whales. It was bullshit she had to be here, but now that she was, she felt happy.
“Ha! I get that reference! Movie sign!” quipped Crush as he tapped his trackpad to get it to play. He was sooo nerdy, have to work on that. Needs more suave arrogance.
SEXUAL HARASSMENT IN MULTISIZE WORKPLACES!
“Don’t joke, it happens every day. It’s a serious offense that can get your company sued, and you… FIRED!”
"Take the case of Smusher Citykill here, an accountant at a prestigious firm. He is enthusiastic that they won the Big Account (ha ha ha!), and wants to celebrate with his attractive co-worker, Adrienne Rodriguez! She raises her hand to hi-five Smusher!
“Instead of proffering a fingertip, Smusher shoved his “bulge” sometimes known on the streets as “junk”, hidden by his suit but obviously erect, directly into Adrienne! He stifled her screams with his scrotum, hidden from view by his expensive suit!”
“Harassment! Smusher caused his firm almost a half-million dollars in damages. Don’t be like Smusher!”
“Coach, this is literally the best thing I’ve ever seen, can I have a copy?” asked Leeze?
“Shhh! It get’s worse!” chided Crusher in a hushed whisper that sent her tiny chair vibrating around the giant tabletop.
“Oh, god, I hope it does!” she replied, rubbing her hands together.
“This is Ripandrend Doomfall, an young account executive with a promising future! The saleswoman he works for, Donna Calabrese, is on the tabletop of a hot new Giant prospect!”
“Mrrrow, I’ll say he is…” quipped Leeze, “…he can execute my account anytime."
“Leeze, you have to pay attention, there’s a test,” implored Crusher.
“Yes, there is,” replied Leeze with a smirk.
"Donna needs to be moved from the conference room table to the buyer’s office to sign important documents! She raises her arms up in the Universal Sign for “pick me up”, pointing at Ripandrend and raising her arms again! It’s his responsibility to get her safely to where the customer can sign the deal!
“Ripandrend reaches for her, and curls his fingers around her… STOP! This is grabbing! Innocent as it may seem, his finger may wrap around her breasts, or his fingertip may come to rest against a private part of her anatomy! Harassment! Even if he doesn’t mean to, Ripandrend is about to put her in his power and sexualize their encounter by grabbing!
“Leeze, it’s not going to work out that way. Pay attention, please.”
“Fortunately, Ripandrend remembers he is a considerate co-worker, and offers Donna a safe and stable palm to climb aboard instead! The contract is a big sales success! Be like Ripandrend!
“Boo! Ripandrend sucks! Boo!” hooted Leeze, “Nice suit, tho.”
“Look, there’s a lot of this video that doesn’t apply to you. So, let’s get past the parts of the video I have to watch…” began Crush, flustered.
“You have to watch, Coach? You have to watch, Coach?” teased Leeze the Sleeze, Empress of the Size Queens.
Crush continued to be flustered, skipping through the video, quite a ways, and tapped the trampoline-sized touchpad of his notebook.
“Nicholas Brown is a human who’s been hired as head archivist at a prestigious Giant Magic firm. His head librarian, Verminbane Spinesnapper is helping him to sort scrolls, but they are on a strict deadline! He has to be on hand to help her sort the scrolls into the appropriate ivory, silver and iron tubes, but there’s too much to carry in one trip! She can carry half the scrolls, and Nicholas, or all of the scrolls, and leave Nicholas behind! Either way, there are two trips required, each requiring valuable time!
“Verminbane has heard stories that human men enjoy large breasts. Her’s aren’t the largest, but maybe he wouldn’t mind riding between them? STOP! You are at risk of sexual harassment!
“You’re Verminbane. Do you:
“ A - Pick him up, stuff him in, and get on with the work?
“ B - Ask him if he’d like to ride in your cleavage?
“ C - Inform him the team will need two trips to safely transport the scrolls and personnel.”
“D - Feed him alive to Smusher, that guy seems like fun!” crowed Leeze. She literally fell off her perch on the little table laughing as it showed Verminbane casually stuffing Nicholas into the back-pocket of her jeans, into her shirt-pocket, into her boot-top, into her glove-top, into her belt, “How did they find an actor looking so horrified? She’s hot!”
“This segment wasn’t meant exclusively for Giantesses dealing with human men, but also Giants who… this really doesn’t apply either, moving on,” began Crush eagerly before he realized what he was up against. Leeze was doing the mental calisthenics required to imagine a Giant doing that stuff to a tiny woman, and was breaking out into a sweat and a wide smile as her Crush hurriedly tapped the touchpad again.
“Darren Thompson has a fascination with women’s feet. His co-worker, Mangle Vileintent, does not know this. He asks her to step on him, lightly, as “a joke” - just so he can feel her foot upon him, even if she is wearing footwear! Harmless jape? No! HARASSMENT! Darren hasn’t lost his job - this time - but he’s lost his seniority, and the trust of a colleague!"
“As a joke! Brilliant! I mean, straight up genius, I’m stealing that for the next time I see a giant in boots… hey, Coach!” called Leeze. Crush realized there really wasn’t an applicable part of the video, except for all of it.
“Yes, Leeze?” asked Crush, closing his laptop, and eyeing the thirty copies of handouts and quizzes he had made at his own expense, expecting a class full of Giants.
“I’ve got a good joke for you…”
Crushiaranikak stopped, stooped, sighed, and then slowly straightened. He outstretched his arms and clenched and unclenched his fists, as an artillery barrage of pops and cracks up and down his spine heralded his loosening. He tossed his head left with a thunderclap of popped sinews, and then right, with a carronade of relief. He slowly spun in place, turning his back on his computer and his stacks of handouts and quizzes, and focused on the the furthest table in the last row of tables in the bland conference room.
He strode towards her, the other tables and chairs but gossamer things easily shunted aside by his shins and thighs - mere human contrivances. They made a satisfying racket as they slid or were overturned and kicked away, easily overmatched by his Giant’s might. Leeze had nowhere to run, and her stiletto-heeled boots wouldn’t allow her to run swiftly in any event, so she looked up at him, suddenly afraid.
But no less lustful, dammit. Well, then, fine. Some lessons are learned hard.
Leeze the Sleaze, Empress of the Size Queens watched as a skyscraper in a custom-tailored suit bashed aside tables and chairs the size of apartment blocks to approach her, specifically, his beautiful face made handsomer still with ill-disguised wrath. She was so scared, her stocking-tops at the inside of her thighs were soaked, as she wasn’t wearing panties. He raised his foot above her, an athletic maneuver akin to doing a standing split, and then slammed it down next to her, the edge of the table right at his stacked-leather bootheel.
Leeze stared as she somehow remained upright, despite being sent two feet in the air by the impact, clinging to her little stacking-chair for all she was worth. Her Sexual Harassment Instructor’s position forced the woolen pant-leg waaaay up his calf, and there was leather all the way up. Modern giants would have fashionably colorful socks and oxfords. Old fashioned giants would have boots, like they expected to saddle a mastodon and raid dwarven mines for treasure, but really just as a reminder that they were giants, and of time they could command elves to make them beautiful boots, and pay them with gold, gems and first-born humans.
“Leeze, I love a good joke. You will entertain me,” declared Mr. Killsallgods.
Leeze was never more frightened in all her life.
“We… we… live in the Time of the Accords, Mr. Crush, sir,” began Leeze.
“That we do, Leeze! A convicted Old Way Giant like me, teaching a class like this! Why, were I to enslave you as my personal pleasure valet, against your will, that would be in complete violation of the Accords, and I would never do that,” admitted Crush.
“Well, OK, so…” began Leeze.
“Admire my suit,” commanded Crush.
“Wha… whaat?” asked Leeze.
“It’s an expensive suit. I had to tailor it around my boots and gloves and intimate apparel, finest dragonskin all around, and the hells of it is the dragonskin is cheaper than this wool,” groused Crush, “Now. Admire it."
“I want to, but I am frightened, and I am invoking the Accords! I demand safe passage!” shouted Leeze. Crush sat upon the table-top right across from her, his taught, powerful derrière simply flattening the Little Furniture atop it like it was made of stereo wire and balsa wood.
“So invoke it. I teach this class, and I start and stop recording. I never started. Do you know why, little Leeze?” asked Crush with a mocking sing-song lilt.
“I didn’t sign in,” said Leeze, collapsing before the giant in a defeated little heap.
“Perhaps you will remember your pen in your ridiculously large handbag next time you are summoned before a True Giant?” asked Crush.
“Your suit is very nice. And… and… and… I like your tie the best! Your tie is amazing! I want to touch it and then remind myself I shouldn’t touch it!” wept Leeze.
“Well, ummm. Please, Ms. Smalls, I am very flattered you like my tie, it was a gift from… please stop crying?” implored Crush. Leeze made every effort to obey, and that broke his heart even more.
It’s one thing when the little mortals are all “No no no don’t step on my family” and it’s all so exciting, but this is another thing entire. He can make himself stop feeling bad by allowing a human to touch his clothing. There is a power to that. His or hers, he didn’t care at this point. It either worked, or he’d eat her and feel guilty about it for a few centuries.
“It’s silk, human silk. As amazing as it feels to you, it feels a hundred times more amazing to me. The pattern is very famous, and we Giants appreciate the artistry. I can un-tuck it from my vest and roll you up in it?” asked Crush of Leeze about his necktie.
“No. Not now. Later.” declared Leeze.
“So what shall we do now?” demanded Crush.
“Hook your thumb into your dragonskin intimates, drop me in, and hope I make it out alive, coach! If I don’t, no one will be the wiser!” declared Leeze the Sleaze, Empress of the Size Queens, with giddy delight.