Chapter 9

Once she had delivered the clothes to a still complaining Coreen, Elizabeth got a pan and a pitcher of hot water. She grabbed a cake of soap and a bath towel, which might do as a wash cloth for the giant, and returned to the dining room. Mortimer was still lying where she’d left him.

“I brought something to get you cleaned up,” she said a little breathlessly, letting her eyes rove over his broad, muscled chest.

She dipped the towel into the pan, soaking up all the water, then rubbed the soap against the cloth. She handed it to him and then stood back as he began wiping at the parts of his body within his reach.

“I’ll get more water,” she said, trying to keep her eyes averted from what was between his legs.

When she returned he was straining to reach his calves, which were sticking into the parlor.

“Do you need some help?” she offered, taking the towel from him.

She started at his feet and worked her way up. Just to get to his knees, she had to wring the towel out three times, and got what was left of her nightgown wet in the process. She looked down at it and saw both the wet spots and something gray smeared all over her front. His clothes had soiled her when she’d carried them to Coreen.

“Ohhhh,” she complained. “I got it all over my nightgown too. Now I smell as bad as you.”

Now, we must be reminded here that Mortimer who, while being a giant, was also a male. While he was aware of the mechanics of sex, he was, like his sister had been, a virgin. And another cross-cultural aspect of life that was shared between humans and giantkind involved the manual stimulation of the male’s penis.

Yup ... giants jacked off too, and had for years, even though none of them had known about Jack until recently. At any rate, virgin giants thought about sex just as much as human boys. So, while Elizabeth had been puttering about getting the goose taken care of, with her nightgown still gaping open, Morimer had been observing her breasts, which were still hanging out.

And, since we’ve been talking perspectives here, from Mortimer’s perspective she was like a giant sized Bambi Doll, almost like the one he’d seen his sister playing with when they were growing up. Just like the one he’d gotten his hands on so he could take the clothes off of it, and dream the same dreams all young males dream when they undress a doll that’s almost anatomically correct.

Just like the doll that had been thrown in the trash when the National Association of Giantesses (N.A.G) had announced that Bambi was having a detrimental effect on young giantesses. If Bambi were a real giantess, they claimed, her breasts would be so huge as to cause her to fall over constantly. Young giantesses couldn’t possibly achieve the same glamour and proportions as Bambi. Thus Bambi had to go. No one paid any attention to the moans and groans of young giantesses, much less their brothers. It was for their own good, after all.

Now, as she washed his legs, she forgot about her gown again, and Mortimer was fascinated by her interesting breasts. He’d gotten a peek at Dinah naked one time and these looked very much like hers, except they were so much smaller.

“You could take it off,” he suggested. “Like I took my clothes off.”

Elizabeth blinked and then flushed a deep red.

“I couldn’t,” she said. She was about to follow that up with “It wouldn’t be proper,” but didn’t get the chance because the giant reached out with both hands, grasped the torn edges of the nightgown and gave a “gentle” tug that ripped the garment the rest of the way down to the floor.

“I can help,” he offered, having already helped. He stared interestedly at the fluff of brown hair he had exposed between her legs. That looked like Dinah’s too, except smaller.

Elizabeth froze. That was the result of equal parts of surprise at what had just happened, and the sudden realization that she had a completely previously unknown desire for a man to do what a giant had just done. The thrill that went through her as she was “manhandled” made her jaw drop and her knees weak.

Mortimer looked at her impossibly white skin and saw gray smudges of goose shit on her breasts, where it had transferred from his clothes. He took the towel from her limp fingers and reached between her loosely hanging arm to cup his hand around her waist. He drew her nearer to him and, because she was so small, tried to gently clean her, as she had cleaned him. The towel mashed her breasts and scraped across suddenly tingling nipples.

“There,” he said heavily. “All clean.”

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned, feeling his big hand on her back. It felt hot and forceful.

He held the towel out to her.

“Can you finish down there?” he asked. “It felt really nice while you were doing it before and it’s kind of hard for me to reach.”

“Ummmmm,” was all she could get out.

She stumbled as that big hand pushed her toward his thighs, where her eyes lit on a giant penis that was now alarmingly stiff and thrusting out from enough crinkly brown hair to make a decent wig out of. You know ... like that Richard Simmons guy ... if he’d been born yet.

She stared at the rigid thing and tried to drag air into lungs that didn’t seem to want to work all of a sudden.

Elizabeth’s eyes had slid to a pair of jewels about the size of a large tomatoes, when a giant hand came to hide what Mortimer thought of as his inadequate equipment from her gaze.

Elizabeth felt strength coursing into her body from somewhere and got a deep breath of air into her lungs. She’d never seen anything so magnificent in her life and she wasn’t finished looking at it. She reached out and tried to move his hand. It was like trying to move an ox.

“Move your hand!” she ordered, her voice raspy.

Mortimer, used to following orders from a woman, did as he was ordered.

“Mercy me,” sighed Elizabeth as she saw it again. “I had no idea!”

“I can’t help it,” he sighed. “I was born that way, I guess. It’s been my curse all my life.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” asked Elizabeth.

“None of the girls will have anything to do with me, because it’s so small,” explained Mortimer.

“Small?!” she squeaked. “That’s not small!” She tore her gaze from the object of interest and looked at his face. “It’s huge!”

Now if the reader is a woman, you might not understand how such a comment might affect a man. If you’re a man, you understand completely.

Mortimer preened.

“Really?” he fished.

“It’s immense!” she sighed. “It’s...” She searched for the right word. “It’s gigantic!”

“Well, I am a giant,” said Mortimer, basking for the first time in the obvious appreciation of a woman, even if she was a pint-sized one.

“Yes you are,” sighed Elizabeth. Her wavering control suddenly faded away. How many women got an opportunity like this? “It needs to be washed,” she said, her voice croaking. “I’ll just wash it for you.”

Mortimer thought that was an excellent idea, so said nothing to deter her.

Coreen was hot and sweaty. She hated washing clothes any time, but this was even worse because the clothes were stinky and weighed a ton. And handling them got her all messy, just like it had her mother.

Since there was no one to see her, she slipped out of her soiled nightgown. It was cooler already.

She got back to work. She’d done the pants, which were hanging up and dripping dry. All she had left to do was the shirt and a pair of under drawers that seemed to have enough material in them to make a dress out of, and then she could take her own bath and go to bed.

“Ummmmm.” Mortimer’s deep base hum was the direct result of Elizabeth’s almost frantic attempt to get the huge erect penis in her hands as clean as possible. To that end she tried rubbing up and down the sides with the towel. That didn’t work to her satisfaction, and she ended up just sliding her wet, soapy hands up and down. Exactly why she wanted it so clean she couldn’t have articulated. Her torn gown pulled at her shoulders and she took the time to shrug it off so the irritation went away. Her eyes were a bit glazed, and really, it was just a great deal of fun to do what she was doing.