Jealousy on Valentine’s Day



They had scarcely taken six steps from the car when the man answered too hastily. He was intent on taking the conversation in a different direction by the time they entered the restaurant, but he neglected to carefully disown any affection for the co-worker at issue, and his wife stopped dead in her tracks. He truly didn’t harbor any illicit aspirations, but he had been careless with his words, and that was enough. She wanted to return to the car, but he had already locked it remotely. Unlocking the car would take all of four seconds, but doing so would mean acknowledging that the issue warranted an involved discussion, and he wasn’t ready to do that. So they remained marooned in the parking lot.

She saw it all from the small wooded park across the street.  She saw their petty resentments and stubborn insecurities and felt the beginnings of contempt. Without further deliberation, She swept out Her open hand toward the couple who, a hundred yards distant, appeared quite small. As She curled Her fingers closed, the couple vanished from the parking lot and found themselves enclosed in the warm crush of Her fist, no larger than ants.

She did not bring Her catch up to Her penetrating gaze, but rather pulled Her undergarment away from Her mighty mons and tipped Her open palm, spilling the bewildered couple onto the taut gusset. Patiently, She held the garment open and waited to see how they would carry on in their new circumstances.

The man recovered first, rolling onto his hands and knees, alarmed by the waves of heat washing over him. He found his feet, and then immediately faltered on the straining fabric. He turned, and looked, and forgot his name.

The woman rolled onto her stomach and lifted her head. From the soft fabric covering every visible surface, she thought she must be in a mental ward. There had been that one episode in middle school, but everything had been under control for years.

The man was brought back to himself by the keening of his wife rejecting her reality. He wanted to help her world make sense, but his own did not. He didn’t dare lift his eyes beyond the the colossal thighs on either side of them or the great forested cleft looming over them. He could not, would not see Her in Her entirety.

The woman hugged herself, but it brought no comfort. Had her husband left her here, unable any more to put up with her vexing nature? Her faith in their relationship had been shaken recently, but now she was utterly adrift.

Groping, hoping, the woman turned around and saw her husband silhouetted against a canyon of womanhood rising on all sides. He was frozen in place, smitten by the naked power so imminent, like standing in front of a volcano or a tsunami. She reached out to her husband, but compared to the enormous labia threatening to engulf them her hand seemed so insignificant. Would he even notice her touch?

In fact, the man continued to hear his wife, her uncomprehending gasps and her anguished sobs. He longed to call her name, but his breath faded as his head was filled by Her scent, a primeval smell promising untold peril and opportunity. It was the smell of Creation itself. He couldn’t move.

The woman inched forward, her husband taking up less and less of her vision as she was drawn toward Her vulva. At last her husband reached out behind him, recognizing that they should be together at this moment of terrific awe. The woman saw her tiny husband and felt the enveloping heat and smelled the ancient fragrance, and she knew exactly who they were. Her hand clasped her husband’s.

She smiled down at the bug-sized couple and let her undergarment snap closed. All knowledge has a price.

Image by @giantesstina

Holy fuuuck…

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