A Giant’s Control
​
By Cole Sailor
​
​
Her breasts were smaller, more pale, with nipples far more tiny, pink, and sharp, than Mom’s. With one hand on my shoulder, pinning me to the hallway wall, she moved her left hand to my right, and grabbed it softly, as if she held a bouquet of fragile flowers.
Raising my hand, she placed it on her left tit and lightly squeezed, her hand still on mine as though she was merely fondling herself. On my skin, they were warm; they were soft. Inside, however, my blood froze.
She looked down at herself, then back at me: her bold green eyes probed me with comfort and care, as if to say “I love you.” I swallowed. I smiled. I hugged her, still cupping her tit. She withdrew her hand from mine to receive my hug. Bending her torso to reach my level, her loving hands pulled me in from the back into a confusing embrace. The stinging scent of body odor crept into my nostrils.
Her hand had left mine, yet a phantom sensation still lingered. And though her body emanated a thick, hot blanket of air, the warmness melted away: a cool gust of air from a nearby vent tried to combat the stuffy hallway. I remained in her arms, like a ragdoll or a puppet on strings.
Without focus, my buttoned eyes wandered the hallway walls: Creme. Creme. Creme. Faded brown stain. Creme. Peeled paint. Creme. Creme. Creme. Creme. Peeled paint. Creme. Faded brown stain. Why is this happening? How should I feel? Is this wrong? It must be wrong because I’ve been warned about this but I feel happy I think I don’t know I don’t know if this is okay but Mom would be angry yet I feel at peace but this scares me she’s a giant and I’m a flower so please don’t harm me please I love you and I’ll do what you want. Creme. Creme. These walls are bare: this hallway is bare.
The AC unit was quiet; she was quiet; I was quiet: the hall was filled with only negative space, the cold, and a deep silence. Like a fetus in a dead mother, I sat submerged in the freezing fluid that once provided compassion and care. Dark. Dark. Dark. Where did the warmth go? Is the world, too, cold, silent, and full of nothing? Dark. Dark.
Then, there was a buzz, some wave, some vibration: a voice. I looked at her, she flashed her creme teeth. “I love you,” she said, letting me go. I turned, said “I love you, too,” and opened my bedroom door. But before entering I turned back. She was watching me with a tear in her eye and a distressed face. I only looked at her breasts: they were beautiful, they were warm, they were comforting, and-
She turned and entered her room; I turned and entered mine, leaving that hallway still filled with nothing but an everlasting winter and the deepest of silences.