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Terror against Tenderness

NSFW_alt1234 Oct 2nd, 2017 (edited) 3,222 Never
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  1. (gentle, MILF, cuddling, breasts)
  2.  
  3. 'What an idiot I am, pathetic' thought Pod. Not even a week, not even a single week could he survive. The young man stared with glassy eyes at the infinite white ceiling, a dull, switched off light the only thing of note on the smooth plain. A warm light streamed in through the window, he had watched the projection it cast on the floor slowly shift throughout the duration of his incapacitation, moving off him only recently; at least the linoleum was cool for his burning injuries now, although that was a small consolation.
  4.  
  5. Pod had finally reached maturity, and the strapping young tiny was set on proving himself and surviving in this hostile, giant world. He had set off, and after weeks of slow, meandering travel he located a house he deemed suitable enough. It had been less than a week in this gargantuan abode, and already his death was sealed. It was a small stumble at the edge of the kitchen counter that sent him careening to the cold floor, and still he remained where he landed after all these hours, the entire left side of his body engulfed in stinging agony and dull pain. Perhaps it was even crueller that he survived, he knew very well the bad place he was in, and 'her' schedule. There was no chance that the human woman he subsisted off wouldn't notice his barely two inch tall body against the white floor, and when she did, he didn't want to think about what would happen... He had heard so many terrifying stories from his parents and grandparents, how cruel the behemoths were, the sadistic delight or uncaring brutality with which they delivered deaths to his kind. A disgusting pang of fear riled up inside him, it would be very soon, very soon indeed.
  6.  
  7. ---
  8.  
  9. Natasha leaned against her front door for a few seconds to catch her breath; what an exhausting day it had been. The middle-aged woman unbuttoned her tight shirt that hugged at her large chest and curvy hips, and polished her slightly fogged, dainty spectacles. She needed a drink to relax, and she immediately made her way into the kitchen to get it.
  10.  
  11. Pod heard the closing front door and clacking heels: it was her. He had never felt such a pure dread in his life, as if death herself was walking into the room. He couldn't stand, he couldn't move, all he could do was watch. Tears began to wet his eyes, he didn't know what to expect, his breathing accelerating, heart thumping into his lungs. The horrible taps of her heels closed in on him, cornering him; whatever fate awaited him, he knew he would find out soon.
  12.  
  13. The exhausted office worker waltzed into the kitchen, pushing the door open casually. Immediately her eyes brown eyes shot to something at the periphery of her vision, an outline against the polished floor. It took a few seconds to parse what she saw: a tiny. It was plain to see, it looked exactly like a human, only positively minuscule. They were rare, she had never actually seen one; apparently they were little pests that infiltrated into people's houses and scavenged off food, never revealing themselves. She took a cautious step forward, she had to investigate this further.
  14.  
  15. Pod was terrified; she was monumental, menacing, everything he thought she would be. Her gigantic form rose like a tower, her legs covered by a black skirt and dark hair tied into a bun behind her head. If he had been of a similar size to her she might seem like a kindly older woman, but at his diminutive size she was a monster. Of course he had seen her before, but not like this; during the few days he had been here the most he would ever spot was her idly watching the television or leaving for work, his schedule adapted to when she wasn't around. He had seen other humans as well, but he had never known the feeling of having one see him; breaking the cardinal rule of being a tiny. He was so terrified he forgot to react, simply transfixed in horror at this monster here to deliver his death. She took a quaking step forward, towards his vulnerable form. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry, as if the very fluid in his body was scared of her. She continued to approach, at a pace that must have been slow to her, but still intimidating to him. She grew in his eyes until he didn't even need to move his neck to look, her looming face directly above the catatonic wreck.
  16.  
  17. Her steps were slow, allowing a heel-clad foot to rest before bringing the second one further. More and more details of this tiny were revealed, until she stood directly above him. Even though his facial features were minute and far away, she could tell he must have been young, very young. He was also thin, and small, even if he was human size he couldn't have been very big, and the only thing he wore was a tattered loincloth. The older woman's heart simply shattered at the sight of him, she could plainly see that he was injured by his stance, the limpness in his limbs and the horrible colour that dotted his left side. Due to his proximity to the counter she guessed he had fallen, he was lucky to even be alive. It seemed so unfair, so cruel of the universe to injure so gravely something so delicate and small. She couldn't allow this, she simply could not, he needed to be fixed, and she was the only one to do it. The woman carefully reached down, squatting to better be able to reach.
  18.  
  19. After the terrifying moments of silence, the behemoth simply looking down at him with a hard to read expression, she moved her dreaded talons towards him, bending down as she did. The light of the window caught on her glasses, the lenses turned to a eerie white that shielded her eyes; she looked more like a monster than a person. Ignoring all protest from his body, he flipped over onto his stomach, and with the arm that felt like it had some semblance of feeling he crawled forwards, his entire limp body responding in pain.
  20.  
  21. As soon as the poor creature began to flee Natasha knew she had done something wrong. She had terrified the poor thing enough to cause him to move through all the pain, and guilt riddled her mind. But still, he needed her help, even if he was scared. "Oh no, please don't!" she pleaded. "You'll hurt yourself more!"
  22.  
  23. Pod didn't listen to her booming words, continuing on his futile journey at a snail's crawl. He had to get away, he couldn't be a meal or a toy or whatever for this human. Not at so young an age, not before knowing a woman.
  24.  
  25. Natasha saw that he wasn't stopping, his limp body visibly aching at his movements. She couldn't help it and reached down, snatching him at the hips with two fingers and a thumb. She quickly dropped him on her palm, onto his back. The tiny thing was snivelling, microscopic tears streaming down his face. He let out imperceptible squeaks, muttering unheard begging beneath his breath. "Shhh, shhh. I won't hurt you, I won't hurt you," Natasha attempted to soothe, the tiny not calming down. "Please, please stop..." she said, her own voice croaky with guilt ridden sadness. Her heart continued to ache at the sight of him, it was awful, such a cute and defenceless thing, brought to wailing and crying in fear and agony. She tried to bring stroking fingers from her opposite hand to massage him, reassure him, but at the sight of her pads he recoiled in fear, grunting at the pain of his body shifting back. Pod was catatonic, he couldn't think straight; his head was filled with thoughts of even more pain at her hands and dying in such terror. The older woman didn't know what to do, she needed to see his injuries, but he wouldn't allow it with all this squirming. She walked into the living room swiftly, placing him on the coffee table gingerly. "Stay here to cool off, I know this must be very scary for you, but I want to help. Please, please, just calm down," were her words, afterwards walking back into the adjacent kitchen and closing the door. She collapsed against the door, sighing again. She would do whatever it took, whatever.
  26.  
  27. ---
  28.  
  29. Natasha had done nothing but pace back and forth along the kitchen floor, stressed about the state of her newest patient. She prayed that he hadn't done anything rash like crawling off the table, she couldn't bear that. It must have been so hard, no doubt he had a terminal fear of humans on top of him being so badly injured. She fought off the desire to peek her head in to see, but she needed to wait until he was nice and calm.
  30.  
  31. Why wasn't he dead? He thought he would have been dead by now. He was so catatonic that he hadn't heard her booming words, and whatever she wanted from him he had no idea. His small bout of terror had completely drained him, and now he only silently sobbed with an aching stomach and tear dried face, alone for however long it was. The same dagger of fear was plunged into his stomach when he heard the giant door creak open, and a familiar spectacle donned face returned.
  32.  
  33. It had been half an hour and Natasha simply couldn't take it anymore, she had to help him. She approached slowly, almost sneaking in. It seemed he hadn't moved from being placed on his back on the table, and thankfully he had stopped crying. She took a seat on the couch, the boy staring at her with tiny puppy dog eyes, begging her to not kill him. "Okay, little guy, I know this must be very scary for you, but I need to check your injuries. I was a nurse, I promise I won't be too rough," she said, her voice sickly sweet, soft, and cautious.
  34.  
  35. Pod just gave in, he didn't resist when she picked him up, he simply closed his eyes and hoped for the best, allowing fear to crawl beneath his skin. Her words, and the fact that he was still alive, had at least reassured him the tiniest amount, but the fact that he was in the palm of a human was simply a horrifying thought.
  36.  
  37. Natasha carefully inspected his body behind her glasses, it was clear that he was lucky to even be alive. She grimaced when she saw his limp arm, clearly dislocated from its socket; she knew what she would have to do. How unfortunate, this would hurt, and he definitely wouldn't be happy about it. "Okay... I'm really sorry, but your shoulder has come out... I'm going to need to pop it back in..." she said. It was clear to him by her tone that what was coming next he wouldn't like, and he struggled to breathe, which only served to hurt his chest. Natasha winced as she positioned her right index finger against his limp upper arm, she had to be careful, only a slight misjudgement and she didn't even want to imagine how bad this could be, and how guilty she would feel. "Okay, on the count of three I'll pop it back in. One... Two..." before she said three she applied the slight pressure onto his arm, the socket sliding back into its home. Pod cried in agony, a deep guttural wail, also sounding like a pitiful squeak. Natasha's heart dropped, it was as bad as she imagined, the poor, poor thing. She couldn't resist, and very gently she pushed his body into her shirt-covered left breast in some form of hug. "Awh, I know it hurts sweety, let it out, let it out," she said, holding him snug against her.
  38.  
  39. Pod's streaming tears poured out and soaked the fabric of her shirt. The memory of the pain was so fresh in his mind, he didn't even care he was being pressed into the warm breast of a human. After the seconds of embrace he was disengaged, whimpering, shivering, and sobbing. His arm felt numb, tingly, painful, but atleast he could actually feel it.
  40.  
  41. Natasha continued to look along his body, it seemed his ribs were broken, and his leg was badly bruised, maybe indicating a fracture. "Stay here sweety, please, I know I must be scary, and it seems like I'm hurting you, but this is for your own good," she said, setting him back down, propped up against a tissue box before leaving into the kitchen. He cradled his numb arm, the pain still fresh in his mind. He didn't know if he could trust her, she said she was trying to help, but perhaps she was simply a good liar. He didn't know what to think, and, defeated, he fell deep into self-pity.
  42.  
  43. The mature woman returned with a handful of seemingly miscellaneous objects; scissors, a toothpick, and a roll of masking tape. To Pod, it seemed like these were her torture implements, and his mind was wild with all the things she could inflict with these tools. He trembled horribly, aggravating his injuries as she approached, and holding in a breath as the long wooden stake was placed next to his two inch body.
  44.  
  45. Natasha eyed the length of his leg against the toothpick, snipping off the excess and producing a wooden stick the length of his leg. She carefully adjusted the shivering boy, moving him onto his back. He gazed in fear at her terrifying glinting glasses, seemingly revealing her hidden demonic nature. She placed the length against the outer side of his leg, and using the tape she attached it. This was her makeshift splint, and she hoped that it would be enough to help. "This is so your leg heals correctly, I know it must be uncomfortable, but there isn't much I can do," she said.
  46.  
  47. Content that she had done enough, she moved away from him, taking her household medical supplies away. In fear he instantly shuffled back awkwardly, his leg stiff and arm weak; it took all the strength he had to move himself with one arm. He backed up to the tissue box and stared at her, whimpering. Her heart was still decidedly shattered, and she couldn't bear the sight of the poor thing so afraid because of her, leaving to let him recuperate alone. When she was out of the room she realised how tired she was, doing nothing but worry and work when she got home; she needed that drink.
  48.  
  49. ---
  50.  
  51. "Um, hello..." Natasha said, poking in her head to her living room. Pod was laying down in the shadow of the box, still clutching his arm. He turned to face her as she popped in, his stomach greeted by the same pain of fear. He crawled further away, moving to the precipice of the gigantic table. Natasha walked in carefully again, her now stocking-covered feet not as loud as the heels that had caused so much fear. "I thought you would be hungry, so I brought you this," she said, flashing a thimble full of tomato soup. "Don't eat it all, your stomach probably isn't that big, but make sure you're full," she set down the thimble. "And also I have this," she now presented a grey, woolly sock, setting it down and doubling it over so the mouth rested on top of the toe section. "It's not much, but maybe it's comfortable enough to sleep in," she said, turning to go back into the kitchen. "And... I hope you get better soon."
  52.  
  53. Pod waited for her to leave, crawling over slowly to the warm thimble. He couldn't resist the allure of a warm meal, and as if from a bucket he began to drink the creamy red fluid, lapping it up. It was tangy, and he had never tasted something like this, or even had a hot meal, but it was food, and it was good food. He collapsed when he couldn't drink any more, his belly filled and warm, gifting him with slightly more energy. He still didn't know how to feel, was she truly just trying to help him? Why would a human do such a thing? His mind wandered, perhaps she only wanted a fully healed one to torture, or to sell off to be in some collection of other tinies, or eat him or do whatever the giant monsters did. He was scared for the future, he was scared of her. But the young man couldn't resist crawling his tiny battered body into the mouth of the sock, pulling the flap over himself, and trying to rest in the fluffy grey cavern.
  54.  
  55. ---
  56.  
  57. Natasha struggled to sleep that night. That tiny, that poor, innocent tiny. How long had he been in this house? How much did he know about her? Did he even speak her language? Did he even speak at all? So many thoughts rattled around her head, and her heart was filled with guilt and pity. She would help him, until he was in peak physical condition she would do whatever possible. She would single-handedly erase his, maybe justified, fear of humans, no matter the cost.
  58.  
  59. It seemed she would need to call in sick to work for a few days.
  60.  
  61. ---
  62.  
  63. Natasha was unsure of what to do. It was mid-morning, and she had decided on muffins for breakfast, reasoning that they would be easier for him to eat than cereal. They were still warm, but if she should wake up someone so ill... Eventually she decided that he needed the food, and crept into the room. She could see a small bulge outlined on the grey sock, moving very, very slightly; he was snoring. She was careful to move as quiet as possible; although perhaps her steps were still tremulous to him. She set the muffin tray down, and that seemed to have finally woken him, as the bulge writhed and stirred. A tiny, brown-haired head poked out, looking towards the tray with the muffins atop. It took Pod one look over to the woman, smiling behind the muffins, to slink back into his cosy bed in fear. Natasha frowned, that wasn't what she wanted. "Aww, please? I prepared this breakfast for you," she said, her tone clearly disappointed.
  64.  
  65. Pod stayed in the dark, curled into a ball, awkward with his stiffened leg. His arm still ached, and so did his chest, but it was much more manageable now, a good meal and night's rest helping tremendously. But still, even in his relatively good health he wanted to remain tucked away. He couldn't get over it: a human, the one thing he hated and feared above all else, offering food. It must have been a trap, even her sickly words of plea were a trap. But the muffins did look delicious... Crumbs of a muffin were the kind of thing his family would have made an occasion of, and the real thing was being presented to him, literally on a platter. He peeked his head back out, quivering in fear, tossing it over in his mind.
  66.  
  67. Natasha saw his indecision, and decided he needed to be helped. She took a pinch of the muffin, dropping the fluffy baked good at the mouth of the sock. Instantly she saw two arms, one slightly bruised, extended and squirrel away the morsel into the ruffles of her sock. She smiled, it was a quite cute thing to see. "Excuse me, but... can you understand me?" she asked, she had no clue if she was doing anything but bewildering him further by speaking.
  68.  
  69. Pod listened to her words, and he understood them quite easily. Tinies spoke the language of wherever they lived, except for a few pieces of 'tiny' dialect. But he was so scared, he just wanted to pretend she wasn't there; couldn't he eat in peace? His stomach turned, she might become aggravated if he didn't answer. Slowly, he crawled out, like a hobbling mouse sniffing around the hole. He stood right at the precipice, his stiff leg still resting partially on the thick sock. A tiny piece of muffin was held in his hand, a sheepishly he nibbled at it, trying to ease his nerves with food.
  70.  
  71. Natasha's face lit up, he had finally come out! "C-can you understand me?" she said enthusiastically.
  72.  
  73. Pod nodded slowly, weakly. He hung his head as if it were heavy, both afraid to look at her and allow her out of his sight.
  74.  
  75. Natasha was so glad, she hoped that he knew of her goals, that she was only looking to help. "Can you talk?" she followed up with.
  76.  
  77. Pod, again, nodded slowly. He was having a nervous feeling rise in his stomach, as if he had come out in a moment of bravery and now regretted his decision.
  78.  
  79. Nasha smiled, leaning in so her ears were closer to his likely weaker voice box. "Do you mind telling me your name?"
  80.  
  81. Pod swallowed his mouthful of muffin in fear, the action also serving to wet his dry throat. The way her face was so close was disconcerting, it was... unnatural, this shouldn't happen. He was about to speak to a human, something that was second only to being spotted by one. It took every ounce of courage in his tiny body to not skitter back into the grey tunnel and at least pretend he was safe. He cleared his throat, weak from yesterday's crying and weeks of disuse. "P-pod..." he said softly, raspy. He hoped his voice was loud enough, he didn't want to repeat himself.
  82.  
  83. Natsha faintly picked up his word, his voice incredibly soft; hopefully just weak and nervous at the time. "Pod?" she asked, looking for confirmation, which she received in a nod. "What a nice name you have, I'm Natasha," she smiled, pausing for a few seconds after and thinking of what to do next. "Do you want something? Are you thirsty?" she asked.
  84.  
  85. Pod nodded, he was very thoroughly parched from yesterday. Natasha, again, acknowledged him with a smile, standing up to get him something to drink. Instantly Pod returned to his nest, taking several deep breaths to calm his nerves. Perhaps he could manage his way back to the hidey-hole he had inside her wall, behind her dustbin. Then he could pretend this whole thing never happened.
  86.  
  87. Natasha returned, seeing that Pod had returned to his sock. She placed the thimble full of water at the mouth and returned to her seat. As expected, like a cautious animal he stuck his head out, noticing the vessel full of the refreshing liquid, and her gazing at him from the sofa. He crawled over, like a dog or some other animal he lapped at it, taking cupped handfuls and quickly sipping it down before it slipped through his fingers. His dry throat moistened, and he could now rest quenched. Natasha watched as he cautiously drank like a deer looking out for hunters, although the only hunter was her. It seemed that he was at least slightly more comfortable around her, even if the only other comparison was him sobbing at her mere presence. "Pod, would you like to... sit in my palm?" she said cautiously. "We should get to know each other a little more..."
  88.  
  89. Pod stared at her as if a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He seemed to refuse to move, not even to scurry back into his home. Of course, he had been in her palm only yesterday, but he was placed there, this would be of his own volition. She placed her palm down flat, inviting him to take a step onto the platform, ruffled with fleshy folds. He recoiled and scurried back from her hand, just out of instinct. Perhaps it was better not to disobey her, even if she worded it like a suggestion. He slowly crawled forward, his stiff leg moving like dead weight. It was odd to see a person like this, Natasha thought; although he wasn't exactly a person. He seemed more like an animal, and if she made any sudden movements it might spook him back into his sock. Would he stay like this forever or was he simply being cautious? Pod poked at her fingers, 'testing the water' of her palm. She had moisturised and soaped her hand for this exact reason, and hoped that it would comfort him a little. He looked at the hazel eyes of his giant carer, offering a nod of encouragement, 'step on'. With a breath in his lungs he crawled on, yet again doing something that felt unnatural. Perhaps this woman was succeeding in earning his trust, soon to betray and trap him. He worked his way further down her hand, ending up on the wrinkliest part of her palm. Natasha smiled and began lifting her hand up, much to his behest. At that moment it seemed his bravery left, and he twitched and hyperventilated on her palm, almost as if he would start biting her like an enraged kitten. "Sorry, sorry!" she said, pleading for forgiveness to the tiny boy. She placed her hand back down, Pod moving off as fast as his injuries would allow.
  90.  
  91. He had scampered off, but he didn't return to the sock, instead only moving a few centimetres back from the palm and folding up like a scolded child.
  92.  
  93. "M-maybe slower this time?" she said, returning her hand down. Even slower he approached, kicking himself for frightening so easily. He edged on once more, the woman again moving her hand at a snail's crawl. After a few tense seconds of the boy being in her palm, she smiled cautiously, a twinge of warmth painting her cheeks and disarming the boy on some subconscious level. "So, Pod, I suppose you were living in my house?" she asked, careful to not sound angry or cruel.
  94.  
  95. A question, a potentially dangerous one. His heart thumped in his ears, he knew how humans hated pests. But he nodded, praying that she wasn't about to squeeze him into pulp for his trespassing. "Are you here alone?"
  96.  
  97. Pod nodded again, his heart rate remaining at this high pace.
  98.  
  99. "I understand if you don't want to admit it, I promise I won't hurt your friends. Are you alone?"
  100.  
  101. He nodded the same, returning to his position of looking away from her giant hazel eyes behind her pane glasses. "Okay, fair enough. How old are you? You seem very young to be alone."
  102.  
  103. Pod swallowed, again preparing his throat for speech. "S... s-seventeen," he said in a meek whisper.
  104.  
  105. "Really? Wow. You're less than half my age! Seventeen... being alone at so young, and in such a dangerous place. How long have you been here?" Natasha was actually impressed, at his age she was definitely not dislocating arms by falling from giant kitchen counters.
  106.  
  107. "O-only for a few days..." he said, again, in a soft mew.
  108.  
  109. Natasha nodded, she had all the information needed for now, and she returned to smiling at him. She could tell that he was still nervous, if not plainly terrified. Pod's heart had calmed, as it seemed he was past the threat of being squeezed for his crimes, but he was still in the hand of a human, and that was simply alien and disturbing. "Am I scary?" she asked, her tone oddly stiff, as if asking any other question.
  110.  
  111. Pod's eyes met her own as he looked up, bewildered, heart thudding again. He didn't want to offend her, he didn't want to be crushed. His mouth went dry, looking away from her again. "Be honest, I won't be mad," she said again, adjusting her tone to be slightly sweeter and hopefully making him more honest.
  112.  
  113. Shamefully he nodded, she was scary. Natasha frowned, but it wasn't unexpected. She must be so big to him, and no doubt he had been told to stay away from people: for good reason, likely. "Would you like to be alone for a bit?"
  114.  
  115. The boy, again, nodded shamefully. The woman placed him tenderly back on the table, where he quickly scrambled back into his nest. "Get some rest, okay?" she said, the small bulge not responding. She rose from the chair and left into the kitchen. She might as well clean and make herself useful with her day off.
  116.  
  117. ---
  118.  
  119. Pod had spent the day in the warm sock, he felt more comfortable in this tiny nook than outside. In the soft embrace he cradled his still sore arm, winced with his breathing, and lamented over his stiff leg. Intermittently he managed to lapse into sleep, and occasionally lapping from his thimble when awake. At one point he discovered a small piece of meat left during his nap, and he gladly swallowed the salty morsel. Indeed, despite his pain, in many ways he felt better than usual: fed, quenched and rested. Still though, he thought of the human, 'Natasha'. She had done all this for him, and she said that she only wanted to help; that wasn't like the humans he had heard about. Perhaps she was only nursing him back to full health to torture him, or had some other plan, but she seemed so genuine. He couldn't forgot she was a human though, and he had to stay on his toes around her, until he could be sure.
  120.  
  121. Natasha had left him to his own devices for the entire day, but now it was finally time for both of them to interact again. The older woman decided that he must be filthy, and a bath would do him good. She brought with her a bowl of warm water, a rag and some soap, setting them down at the edge of the table. "Hello, Pod, are you awake?" she cooed to the sock. The entrance was lifted slightly, and a familiar head popped out. Natasha smiled at his cute face popping out to look, his eyes shooting to her. "You must be dirty after so long, come here," she said, patting the table adjacent to the steamy bowl.
  122.  
  123. Pod was, as always, unsure. He heard her words, and he WAS filthy. Usually he cleaned himself with a moist rag, but that was still in the hole, and over the twenty-four hours since he had been home a sheen of sweat and dirt had accumulated on him. Furthermore, he saw the steam coming off the bowl: it was warm. Warm baths was the thing he most envied the humans of he previous house for, how relaxed they looked in their giant porcelain tubs. Against his usual judgement, and perhaps spurred my a clouded head, he made his way to the bowl, by Natasha. He sat as far away as he could while being in easy reach, and his back was straight, with defensive posture; as if he could skitter away at any moment. "Now, this splint... I'm sorry, again," she said, Pod not liking the words. She poked at his bruised leg, the toothpick adhered to it by tape keeping it straight. He grimaced at the gentle prodding, but he didn't squeak. "I think we won't need this," she smiled, it was probably only sprained or bruised. She dabbed the damp cloth onto the thin strands of tape, weakening the adhesive so it could slide off easily, freeing his leg, which he promptly tried bending to return the feeling of motion. "About this..." she poked at his loincloth. Pod swallowed, he was already shy around her, he definitely didn't want to be naked. "I won't peek," she said, closing her eyes. He undressed, slow from both the sore leg and stage freight. When he was naked he grunted, letting her know that he was ready. Gently she picked him up, fingers supporting his back with a thumb on his stomach, and lowered him, feet first, into the steamy bowl.
  124.  
  125. Pod was in absolute heaven, the warm water, especially on his bruises, was nothing short of blissful. The steam rose and swirled all around him, he could swear it even had a sweet scent carried with it. Had he really missed this his entire life? Now that his privates were hidden beneath the steamy liquid she opened her eyes, and much to her delight, for the first time, he was wearing a tiny smile. He also seemed complacent, soothed by the intoxicating water and forgetting about the giant woman. She got to work, adding the soap that foamed in the water in preparation. With a probing finger, hidden behind a cloth, she scrubbed gently at his body. Pod was tickled tremendously by the fibres, and in the good mood he was in, he let out a tiny, innocent giggle. That slight bout of jubilation was music to Natasha's ears, to finally hear him happy; instantly she grinned. The sound was so enticing, she had to do it again, tickling his submerged body with the cloth. He giggled again, and again as she continued at it. Eventually he burst into a fit of giggling, fighting away her finger with his sturdier arm. Natasha joined in, giggling as she attacked him; for a moment she felt like a child, just laughing while tickling her friend.
  126.  
  127. After a few moments of fun she stopped, and after the residual giggling, they returned to silence. Pod became acutely aware of what had just occurred. Did he really just do that? Giggle at her tickling? For a second, he had forgotten that she was a human... He didn't know how to feel, was he letting his guard down too soon? In shame he slunk deeper into the water, his rosy cheeks just floating above.
  128.  
  129. All good things must come to an end, and Pod was lifted from the heavenly bath by two fingers, dropped onto a tissue, hand over his crotch to remain decent. Natasha smiled to him, he was a bit of a cutie, that was for sure. "Dry yourself with those tissues, I'll leave you be for a little while, okay?" he nodded in response, back to his usually caution. As if it were a blanket, Pod nuzzled into the tissue, removing the moisture from his body. He felt refreshed, relaxed, serene. Still, in his mind came the swirling message: she is a human, she is not to be trusted. Skittishly he crawled back into his sock, bringing his loincloth with him.
  130.  
  131. ---
  132.  
  133. Natasha had decided that after the bath, she wanted to watch some television, and she had come into the living room to do so. She turned it down very low to not bother the boy in the sock. Pod angled himself to see the television while remaining inside the sock, watching the whispering moving pictures in curiosity. He had never really watched a television, not anything more than a glance, not long enough to pick up plot points or story-lines. He was interested, perhaps this was his chance. But with... Natasha out there, he wanted to remain.
  134.  
  135. A few drops were the first warning of coming rain for the evening, and soon there was a loud clatter of drops upon the roof and road, the thousands of individual sounds moulding into a cacophony. Forgetting the television, Pod scrambled deeper into the sock, nuzzling into the fabric and covering his ears with his arms. Tinies were scared of rain, it was not a good thing to be outside during a storm, and still that primal fear was carried with him. The astute woman noticed the movement, "Pod, are you okay?" she asked. She had an instinctual feeling that he was scared, and wanted to ensure he was comforted. Of course, he didn't respond. "If you're feeling scared Pod I'll do whatever I can to make you feel better."
  136.  
  137. Like a sniffing mouse he peeked his head out, perturbed deeply by the rain. If there was something she could do to stop it, he would gladly accept it; even from a human. "What's the matter, sweety?" she said with a breathy voice, seeking to sound maternal and caring. The boy did his best to signal his discomfort, pointing at the window. She began to put two and two together. "The rain?" she questioned, his head bobbing in shameful affirmation. She hummed to herself in thought, there wasn't much she could do to help him, unless... "Pod... would you like to... lay on my belly? For comfort?"
  138.  
  139. The young man poked out his head further, somehow ignoring the rain. The dark haired woman smiled at him, and he looked along the length of her reclining body, a small band of skin peeking out from beneath her sweater. Pod was startled, sitting on her? Why would he do that? She was beckoning him to kill him for sure... But he felt so alone during the rain. He remembered the nights of his childhood, his family all huddling together in their little hole during the rain, sharing their warmth. He didn't have that, he was alone, and frightened. A crack of thunder made him jump, agonising his injuries. He took in a haggard breath, looking once again over her mountain range of a soft body, her wide hips and curves like hills and peaks, and her belly, a thin band of skin poking from beneath her sweater. For the first time in two days he struggled to his feet. His knees were weak, but they supported his frame, and he began his slow march over, a limp accompanying him. Natasha smiled, both at his walking and his bravery in approaching her. It had only been a day from when he cried at the sight of her, and now it looked like he would be snuggling up with her. He hobbled over, to her waiting palm, his legs giving out after the small distance covered, collapsing onto her pudgy finger pads. She moved him over, balancing him and hiking up her sweater further, dropping him on.
  140.  
  141. Pod paused as soon as he was slid on, frozen in place. Natasha was a curvy woman, her belly was not immune from the softness of the rest of her, and it showed. Pod contemplated for a few second, he was in sheer shock; there was no way someone so soft could be evil. He sunk into her, leaving a very minute imprint on her stomach. Her silky smooth skin was so warm, so yielding, like butter, or pillows. She was like a giant pillow. A human, he was on a human, at this moment, and he was enjoying it. He didn't know how to feel, it was simply so enticing. He was miraculously cured of his fear of rain, he couldn't be afraid of this megalithic human, even his injuries felt slightly better. "Do you feel comfortable?" Natasha asked.
  142.  
  143. "...Y-yes..." he said, meekly yawning after his sentence.
  144.  
  145. Natasha had the widest grin on her face, cheeks warmed to red from his words. Not only had he layed on her, but he was comfortable, and actually spoke. Perhaps, without being too hasty, he might come to like her.
  146.  
  147. Pod's mind attempted to swirl with thought, it even tried to alert him to danger, but he was too tired for that. His eyelids were heavy, his mind was growing dim. What was he doing? Falling asleep on a human?...
  148.  
  149. ---
  150.  
  151. The warm light through the window naturally triggered Pod's waking up, which was quite odd. He was usually a nocturnal creature, that being said he never really had a set sleep schedule. As the sensations returned to his body he became acutely aware of where he was; the warmth, the texture, the softness: he was still on Natasha's stomach. The boy went stiff, fear, regret, disbelief washing over him. He couldn't believe he had slept an entire night, and it was a good night's sleep at that. He wasn't sure what to do, he could hear by the murmuring snores that she was still asleep, and his injuries felt stiff after a night of stillness. He groaned as he shifted, trying to roll over and stretch his back.
  152.  
  153. Natasha, spurred by the light and tickle on her stomach, began to wake. With a loud yawn she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, remembering who had spent the night with her with a smile. Pod backed away as she stirred, he had woke the slumbering giant. On all fours he retreated, further down the stomach, to a place Natasha might not have wanted him being so close to. She reached over and slid on her spectacles, looking down at her patient. "Good morning Pod!" she said chirpily, already in good spirits.
  154.  
  155. "M... morn...ing," he said, trailing off. He rose, standing awkwardly, as if trying to hide behind himself. He was incredibly shy.
  156.  
  157. Natasha could see that he was uncomfortable, which she supposed was fine. "Would you like to go back to the table?" she asked, retaining her honeyed tone.
  158.  
  159. Pod nodded vigorously. His tiny bobbing head messing his brown hair.
  160.  
  161. Natasha relocated him to the surface, the young man quickly skittering into the sock. She sighed, perhaps last night he was simply feeling adventurous. "I'll get breakfast."
  162.  
  163. The tiny curled himself up into a ball, allowing himself to think. Last night he had slept the best he had in what seemed like years, it was warm, soft... safe. He didn't know what to do, perhaps his best option was to crawl back behind the bin and forget about her.
  164.  
  165. He was startled by the sound of a tray being dropped within his vicinity, checking through the mouth of the cave. It was filled with fruit, all cut up into manageable size, and Natasha smiling invitingly behind it. He hadn't had fruit in so long, and he wet his lips at the sight. Allowing his hunger to control his fear, he made his way out, picking up a sopping piece of watermelon to carry back with him.
  166.  
  167. "Awww, I hoped you could stay out here and we eat together," she said, her tone disappointed.
  168.  
  169. The boy holding the piece of fruit froze, the gears in his head ticking. Slowly, reluctantly, he moved back, dropping the piece ahead of him, chest thumping again. He took a handful of the pliant fruit, gobbling it down easily, the red sticky liquid streaming down his arm and face.
  170.  
  171. The older woman smiled, he looked so cute when he was eating. "How was your night?"
  172.  
  173. "G-good," he said after a delay of a few seconds. His voice was squeaky, he was so ashamed. He must have sounded like a little pest to her.
  174.  
  175. "That's nice," she responded, happily sharing the meal with him. Natasha picked up a few grapes, plopping them in her mouth and pulverising them with her teeth. "Have you ever eaten fruit before?" she questioned. He needed a healthy meal, and hopefully some vitamins would keep away 'the scurvy' or some other disease.
  176.  
  177. Pod froze, the way she ate those grapes was terrifying. He couldn't have been so much larger, and she just pulverised them between her teeth like nothing. He realised she asked a question, so he just nodded. "A few t-times."
  178.  
  179. They continued their healthy meal in relative silence. Pod nibbled at all the different tiny slithers, offered the opportunity to eat fruits he had never had before, like oranges, or pineapple. When he was full he scuttled back, before he could get in he was interrupted by her voice. "Wait, you don't want to be sticky, do you? I'll clean you up," she said, quickly scuttling into the kitchen. She held a rag when she returned, and much to her welcome surprise he had obeyed, and stayed out. He sat awkwardly as she polished his arms and dabbed at his face, all the sugary fluid dissolved. "Would you like to be left alone for a bit?" she asked, Natasha knew he needed space, he was still so flighty and timid.
  180.  
  181. He wasn't sure, again he didn't want to offend her, but still... she was just so big and intimidating; even if she was... soft. He took the safe bet, and nodded.
  182.  
  183. "How about some television?"
  184.  
  185. Pod shrugged, he had no idea if he wanted to or not. Deciding for him, Natasha switched it on, turning it low for his ears, and flicking it to something he would enjoy. A nature documentary seemed the best, about elephants. She kindly shifted his sock around to have the mouth facing the screen, and left him be.
  186.  
  187. The tiny gladly squirrelled back into the fuzzy cavern, peeping out to watch the elephants go about their business. When he saw a human stand next to one of the things he was blown away at their size, he didn't want to imagine what they'd look like in real life.
  188.  
  189. ---
  190.  
  191. "Hello, Pod? Are you awake?" came Natasha's sing song voice from high above. She saw the small bulge in the sock was quivering, and the mouth was pulled tight. Using her judgement she decided that he needed help, and cautiously, with only a few fingers she pried open the sock, peering in. On the fuzzy floor of the tube Pod was curled up in a ball, shivering slightly in the dim greyed light. He looked like he had seen something he would have preferred not to. "Pod? Are you okay?"
  192.  
  193. The tiny simply pointed past her, at the screen. Natasha turned her head to see the issue; a lion was tearing apart a zebra and eating it, in complete gory detail. She frowned, switching off the television quickly. "I'm so sorry..." she said, at a loss for words. He was so innocent, he had probably never see anything so violent, at least she hoped he hadn't; there was a good chance he would have seen it for real.
  194.  
  195. "D-do those lion things actually exist?" he asked, puny voice wavering. He, like most tinies, was absolutely terrified of house cats, and one so large and brutal to kill a human seemed like something from a nightmare.
  196.  
  197. "Not around here sweety, there aren't any around here," she said reassuringly, Pod coming somewhat undone from the ball. "Do you want to sit on my palm again?"
  198.  
  199. Pod was so consumed with fear he nodded without even thinking; he needed someone to hold him, and she was the only person around. He crawled onto her palm, curling up into a ball. The mature woman took her seat, cupping her palms and looking down on him, happy that he had actually crawled on. "It's okay Pod, I won't let any lions get you."
  200.  
  201. Pod had realised how eagerly he crawled into her palm, and he felt slightly embarrassed and shy; it wasn't like him. He tried to not look her in the eyes, and awkwardly cradled his arm. He realised something: he was such a coward. The boy shuddered, he was a pathetic little runt that jumped at his own shadows. He tightened in his ball, trying to make himself as small as possible.
  202.  
  203. Natasha took notice of this change in posture, something was wrong. "Are you okay Pod? Were the lions that scary?"
  204.  
  205. "I... I'm such a coward," he croaked out, allowing his feelings to be heard.
  206.  
  207. "What? Why do you say that?" she said with concern on her tone. A small feeling of pride welled up however, he felt comfortable enough to admit his feelings.
  208.  
  209. "I'm scared of lions... I'm scared of rain, and... y-you," he said meekly, as if he were about to burst into tears.
  210.  
  211. The older woman frowned, bringing down a finger and caressing his back, he didn't even stir. "I don't think you're a coward," she said warmly. "I think you're very brave."
  212.  
  213. Pod just whimpered to himself, being a coward even now.
  214.  
  215. "You're so young, and to be out in a scary world all alone: that's bravery," Pod continued to whimper. "How's your arm?"
  216.  
  217. "B-better, but it still hurts..."
  218.  
  219. Natasha smiled, bringing him in closer, resting her hands on her large breasts. She leaned in, shocking him slightly, and in the warm embrace of her lips she pressed into his shoulder, and gave it a kiss. She snickered to herself. Pod was shocked, but, like all of her, her lips were soft. Perhaps it actually did help. "Want me to kiss it better?" she asked rhetorically, leaning in for another kiss. She giggled as she very gently tapped her plush labia onto his injury, careful to not aggravate it. Pod began to warm to the feeling, laughing along with her, her wrinkles tickling him. She continued at it, moving onto other parts of his body and sending him wiggling jovially.
  220.  
  221. She continued to barrage him with her little kisses, engulfing most of his body with each peck. He turned to face her lips, only to regret what he saw. She leaned in for a kiss, revealing the cavernous maw of her mouth, pitch humid black that writhed with a silent tongue, enamel teeth ready to pulverise his bones. He let out an eep of instinctual fear, cradling his head as he returned to his ball.
  222.  
  223. The loving woman paused as she noticed his change of attitude. She backed away, putting him into view. "D-don't eat me... please," he said.
  224.  
  225. Natasha sighed, poor thing. "Pod, Pod, Pod... I won't eat you," she reassured while petting him. Pod realised that he had lapsed back into cowardice, and he kicked himself. Why was he like this? "You don't need to be scared anymore Pod, I'll keep you safe," Natasha set him down, "I'll get us some lunch."
  226.  
  227. While she was away the young man ruminated on her words. 'You don't need to be scared anymore.', it was true, he didn't. Natasha had shown him nothing but kindness and he still shrunk at her presence like a cowardly ingrate. He looked at the sock, he wanted so badly to jump in and go deep, deep inside. But he wouldn't, he would eat lunch with her.
  228.  
  229. ---
  230.  
  231. Pod awkwardly sat on the table, alone. His knees were brought up to his bruised chest, and he rested his battered arm on top. He had fought the urge to hide back in his sock all day, feeling vulnerable and exposed without it. He had backed himself close to the tissue box, allowing him to both see the television and the woman watching it. Thankfully there was nothing so terrifying on screen as lions, just a documentary about space.
  232.  
  233. The small boy looked so tiny in his little ball, the majority of his skin exposed. Natasha couldn't allow him to catch a chill in his vulnerable state. "Pod, are you cold?" she asked, calling the tiny's attention. He was slightly chilly, his loincloth doing little to protect him. The older woman patted her thigh, beckoning him to approach. He took in several deep breaths, remembering his resolution, and repeating a mantra in his head: this woman means you no harm. He edged over, cautiously, continuing his crawl until Natasha deemed he was close enough and picked him up, placing him gently on her right thigh, covered by comfortable pants. He was on his back, and he spread his limbs out to best sink into the fabric that contained her full thighs, warming him. She sat up, which forced him to stare up into her face, her immense size looming over him, and the fear returned. But she offered a smile, and with a few repeats of his mantra, he managed to calm himself down.
  234.  
  235. Natasha smiled a small, sensible smile of content; he was become more manageable by the hour. Perhaps he would even allow stroking tonight.
  236.  
  237. "N-Natasha..." Pod said, trying to open a question.
  238.  
  239. The woman was slightly shocked, he had actually spoke first! Instantly she looked back down, to Pod. "Yes?" she said, trying to not sound overly excited.
  240.  
  241. He took a few breaths to fight off his shivering. "W-why didn't... y-you kill me?"
  242.  
  243. Natasha was appalled, what kind of question was that? "Why on Earth would I kill you?" she blurted out, almost defensively. She saw the way he recoiled at her words, she definitely wasn't helping him. "I mean... why would you ever think something like that?"
  244.  
  245. "M-my family always said that... humans kill tinies. D-did they lie?" his question was genuinely innocent. He wanted to know if his entire perspective on life was skewed, and he hoped it was.
  246.  
  247. The mature woman needed a few seconds to compile her answer; humans did kill tinies. She knew there were extermination services, she knew there were seedy online markets, she knew there were people that saw them only as pests. "Well... some humans might, but not me. I could never hurt a tiny."
  248.  
  249. "Why did you help me?"
  250.  
  251. "When you see a person in need, you should always try to help them. It's what my mother always taught me," she said, almost proudly.
  252.  
  253. "B-but... I'm not... a person," he squeaked out.
  254.  
  255. Natasha flashed a reassuring smile down, bringing her index finger pad to caress the two inch length of his body, avoiding the sensitive left side of his body. "You may not be a human, but you're still a person."
  256.  
  257. Her words were so kind to Pod's ears, she saw him as a person, an equal. He had always been the runt, his siblings teasing him for his size, struggling to pull his weight; it was one of the reasons he left to prove himself, and he couldn't even do that... Still, the fact that she saw him as a fellow person made his insides bristle. Natasha was a human, she was gigantic and terrifying, she was the thing that he had been warned of his entire life. But she was so kind, soft, gentle, understanding. Maybe this was still part of her trick, maybe she was fattening him up for use, maybe she wanted to see the look of anguish on his tiny face when she plunged the dagger into his back. Or maybe she was a kind woman that hated to see things in pain. Anyway, for the time being, he curled up on her lap, soothed by her warmth, and for the second night in a row he was sent into the throes of sleep, perched on a human.
  258.  
  259. ---
  260.  
  261. Natasha's jaw was wide open in shock as the tiny boy walked on the table. He still limped, and his entire body was still sore, but he could move at something more than a pitiful hobble. Pride welled up in her heart, she had successfully helped this tiny boy recover from something so ghastly; she felt like a mother whose child had ridden his bike for the first time. "You've made such a great recovery in only a few days! I'm so proud of you," she smiled.
  262.  
  263. Pod smiled internally, appearing as a humble blush. It felt good to be complimented, but he was still quite nervous. He gave a small nod, as if trying to say 'thank you', but forgetting the words.
  264.  
  265. "Remember, you still need plenty of rest, and I'm not going anywhere," Natasha brought a finger to him, the tiny freezing as it approached, remaining still as she softly patted his hair. "I'm guessing you lived somewhere before you fell, do you mind showing me?"
  266.  
  267. "O-okay."
  268.  
  269. Natasha brought her palm down, Pod hopping aboard. The gigantic woman was like a ship when she walked, her bobbing steps like waves rocking him back and forth, and following the directions of him pointing, as if by a navigator. "Here?" she asked, looking at the bin at the corner of her kitchen. Pod nodded, the older woman shrugging and dropping him down. "Is there anything here you want?"
  270.  
  271. Pod twisted his body awkwardly, shyly. Her giant squatting body filled his sky, her panties visible through her skirt at such a low vantage point, although he was too awkward to mention it. "M-my blanket," he said; a childhood memento.
  272.  
  273. "Okay," she mouthed, smiling. He went around the back of the large metal cylinder, cold and intimidating. Along the wall was a small hole, enough for him to squeeze through, which he did. His heart was thumping, he was back home; his dark, thick, dusty home. In here, there was nothing stopping him from staying away from her, he could run, abandoning her and making an escape. He could go back to his old life, to pretend this chance encounter with a human that didn't want to instantly pulverise him never happened.
  274.  
  275. After a few short minutes the tiny boy emerged holding a tiny raggedy piece of cloth, smudged with dirt. Natasha lay her hand back down to receive him. "Oh, I can't let you sleep with that! It's filthy! Let me wash it for you," she said, pinching the rag.
  276.  
  277. Pod held on slightly, this was his last reminder of his family; the one thing he had taken with him. He wanted it washed, but he didn't want to give it up. No, he trusted her, and he gave it up, allowing her to have it.
  278.  
  279. Natasha looked down at the boy in her palm, his thin body with a slightly large head. He was seventeen, but so innocent he seemed younger. He was like a little lost boy that had his blanket taken away, but that innocent boy had likely lived a life she couldn't imagine. "I'll get this cleaned up," she said, the young man nodding in thanks.
  280.  
  281. ---
  282.  
  283. Pod held the blanket around him tight, his clenched hands like magnets to his chest. The cleaned piece of fabric was much silkier than he remembered, and it kept him warm. But even through his layer of protection he was still slightly chilled. Tonight had been like the previous ones, Natasha watching television with him on the table, sitting against the tissue box. It seemed his carer was totally engrossed in whatever film was playing, and she hadn't done her usual song and dance of beckoning him to her. Under his cosy layer of fluff, he shuffled over, to the end nearest her. "N-Natasha..." he said, the older woman turning her hazel eyes, protected by a pair of glasses.
  284.  
  285. "Yes sweety?" she said, using her friendly pet name for him now that they were on better terms.
  286.  
  287. "C-can... you put m-me on you again," he asked, voice so frail it could barely be heard over the television.
  288.  
  289. Her eyes softened into adoration, a rosy tinge added to her cheeks. She scooped him up, dropping him onto her right breast, covered by sweater. He sunk into the fuzz, the bulbous fatty breast felt easily beneath him; again she proved herself to be intensely soft. As if hit by a spell he was struck by sleepiness, laying down in the shadow of her jawline and snuggling into the blanket. "Natasha..." he opened again.
  290.  
  291. "Mhm?" she acknowledged.
  292.  
  293. "I'm s-sorry I was so r-rude to you..."
  294.  
  295. Natasha began to gush, she had finally let her true emotions be felt. Pod was the cutest, most innocent, dearest little thing she ever had the privileged of meeting. It seemed physically impossible to hate him, the way his eyes were so big, even on his tiny face, his soft voice, his fine limbs; it all seemed they had been engineered to create something that made her heart tingle at the sight of him. That's why it was painful to seem him hurt and scared. "That's okay Pod, I understand I look all big and scary," she said softly, a fingertip caressing him like a piece of treasure.
  296.  
  297. "Thank you, f-for being so nice," he said, smiling.
  298.  
  299. Pod felt his body moved, a finger dragging him onto her soft palm, blanket still held fast to him. He sunk into the buttery skin, on his back, his blanket readjusted to sit on top of him. He looked so adorable tucked onto her cupped palm like a bed, blanket over him. He was so cute, and she wanted to appreciate how he looked and felt now that he would let her. Pod was unsure of what she was doing, feeling nervous, but fighting off the feeling. She teased the blanket down a little, looking at this shoulder and sighing. "You really are a fighter, aren't you?" she said, complimenting him.
  300.  
  301. The pain he felt those few days ago was still somewhat fresh in his mind, the dreadful sear of the fall. For a few seconds they just looked at each other, her giant hazel irides into his tiny green dots. Natasha poked her nose into him gently, nuzzling him and causing him to giggle with her oversized eskimo kiss. She moved up slightly, delivering to him a peck with her giant puckered lips. He recalled yesterday, how he recoiled in fear and begged to not be eaten. He didn't feel that, he still felt a strange tingle, a message at the back of his mind: she is human, she is not to be trusted, but he didn't listen. He allowed it to be replaced with the feeling of her all encompassing soft palm.
  302.  
  303. "You know, I'm glad I found you on the floor."
  304.  
  305. Pod's heart sank slightly, was this when she was about to reveal her big plan? Her scheme? "W-w-why?" he said, particularly difficult to get out.
  306.  
  307. Natasha sighed, "I have been so lonely for what seems like forever. I've just gone to work and come back to an empty house. I haven't had time, or been bothered, for anything else. Surely you can relate? It must have been so lonely in this gigantic place..."
  308.  
  309. Pod was relieved, and he felt almost proud he had done something to alleviate her loneliness. Truth be told, he had been so cripplingly lonely those few days. With his family he may have been bullied, but here there was no one to do even that. He had been alone, he had been small, he had been sad. "Lonely..." was all he said.
  310.  
  311. Natasha smiled, he really was cutie. Such a young man, still a kid really. She had been thinking recently, she wanted to do whatever possible to make him happy, and although it might be strange, she decided, as a young man, he needed a release. She pulled the his blanket down even further with a nail, slithering along his body. He stared at her with wide eyes, frailly grasping at the fabric to dissuade her, but her finger was much stronger. She smiled at his exposed body, so thin, so delicate, so smooth and soft. He was thankfully warmed by the aura of her hand, but he still felt exposed, bringing his arms to cover him. She brought her index finger close to him, teasing at the strap of his loin cloth. Pod tried to push her finger away with his weak hand, like a tiny tap to her tactile finger. "What's wrong?" she asked.
  312.  
  313. "W-what are y-you doing?" he said, he was feeling strange, tingly... especially 'down below'. He wasn't sure her intentions, was she really trying to do what she thought? He was a teenager, he had gotten 'the talk' like human children, he had done things on nights alone. Although he would never admit it, being alone in this house there was only one woman he had seen in so long, and perhaps on those lonely nights he was thinking about the giant's womanly curves... But he was scared of it happening in real life, instead of fantasy.
  314.  
  315. "This is to cheer you up," she reassured, fingering at his loincloth further. "It's okay if you don't want to though, I won't go any further." Shamefully, Pod backed his hands away and allowed her to get it off, but as soon as it was off he moved his hands over his privates to shield himself. The tiny boy averted his eyes from her, face turning a burning crimson; he was so nervous, and ashamed. But he wanted it, he had never been with a woman before, he thought maybe he would die before he ever did. Natasha saw him, burning in shame with his crotch hidden, averting his eyes; he looked so cute, his tiny little blush making her silently fill with a desire to comfort him. "Just tell me to stop if you don't like it, okay?"
  316.  
  317. Pod nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. Natasha extended her tongue, moving his shielding hands away gently with a finger nail. Her extended tongue was wide and red, and he could see directly into her mouth, the fear of being devoured returning. But he wouldn't be afraid, she wasn't going to eat him, 'You don't need to be scared anymore.' As soon as the muscular tongue made contact with his lower body his mind went blank; he couldn't feel anything but her tactile tongue warming and tickling him, gooey saliva covering his thighs. He couldn't move, he didn't want to, he didn't need to.
  318.  
  319. Natasha simply lapped at his lower half for a little bit, rolling her tongue around and tasting him. It wasn't long, she didn't expect it to be, he was so young, so lonely. When she was done she withdrew, looking down on the naked tiny again, his legs slick and shiny. It seemed she had sucked all the energy out of him, and he lay completely limp. He still looked ashamed, his blush as intense as before. "Was that good?" she asked, she really hoped it cheered him up, but perhaps she had acted rashly and let her own feelings for him get in the way.
  320.  
  321. Pod shuffled around, trying to cradle himself, he was so ashamed, he shouldn't have done that. But he enjoyed it, and he was ridden with guilt. Nevertheless he nodded.
  322.  
  323. "Awww, Pod, it's okay. You don't need to be shy! It's just me and you," she said, smiling down.
  324.  
  325. Pod was heartened by her words, maybe he was being... a coward. He loosened up, allowing his exhausted tiny body into a more comfortable position.
  326.  
  327. "Anyway, I'm glad you liked it," she said softly, in a warm tone that comforted him further, especially with a finger running along his back. "Maybe even I liked it too," she whispered, winking and making him feel even more relaxed.
  328.  
  329. The tiny was dropped back onto her breast, slightly higher up, towards her neck. He was tired after... that, his entire body sapped of energy and calmed by the natural mechanisms after his burst. Natasha draped his blanket over him, and silently wished him a good night with a pat on his back.
  330.  
  331. Lonely, he had been lonely. The days in the house before his injury were so bleak, he didn't even realise until now; so caught up in proving himself. He hadn't known what it was like to be loved like this, to have someone be with him so... intimately. He smiled, allowing the remnants of his blush fade away, he was content now.
  332.  
  333. He let the whispering television soothe him, and her to warm him, and the faint thump of his injury die away. He realised something, moments before dropping off to sleep: that message in the back of his mind 'she is a human, she is not to be trusted', had stopped, and for the first time he felt absolutely no fear of her. A new message instead reassured him: this is Natasha, she can be trusted.
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