Tags: Body exploration, nalgas, breasts, back rubs

Ch 8

**Carte Blanche**

“’The grand tour?’” Andrew echoed.


He could practically hear her smirking. He couldn’t stop his smile either, honestly. This was extremely uncharacteristic of Darcy to be so… well, narcisstic. But something told Andrew that it was alright- maybe the current situation had brought it out. Probably not a permanent change.
“I remember all those times you’ve snuck peeks at me, you know. Think of this as… looking all you want, carte blanche!”
Andrew felt the sharp tang of embarrassment he always did when he was caught (and even the other times he wasn’t)- it was something he always indulged his guilty pleasure in, but now, to have it called out and used like that seemed doubly embarrassing.
“I can hear you blushing!”
He shot out a laugh, more than he had intended. It was pretty funny, after all.
“Crimson red, in fact.” he offered. Then, feeling bold, and leaning against one of her feet, he called out, “And what do you mean ‘grand tour’? I think I know your body plenty well. And,” he raised his voice, “not even from lookylooing! Remember that wardrobe malfunction you had at your office Christmas party last December? Or those maaaaany times you asked me to pick up your ‘feminine hygenie products? Aaaaaand,” he drew out, “that one time we went to your folks’ place last Fourth of July? Remember, we had those cabbage rolls, and after you let out this huuuuuge-”
He backed away when he saw Darcy’s body twist and torque around- it startled the hell out of him. In an instant, she was on her back, looking down at him, her face a beet red and a half annoyed, half enthralled look on her face. He felt like a kid who was just caught with his hands buried deep inside the cake his mother was planning on serving guests: dirty, smiley, guilty, but deeply satisfied and victorious. In big trouble, devil may care.
Her chagrin turned to a bewildered smile, matching that of Andrew’s. She lifted her foot and held it right in front of him, her toes extended up so the ball of it was smooth and hard as worn leather.
“Andrew!” She began deliberately, accentuating the words. The rest that followed were in the same manner. “Do you see my foot! Do you see it!” Staccato words that were, well, statements rather than questions. “Looooook,” she said, flex and extending her foot and toes wildly, “at how big it is compared to you! You! Are! Nooooothiiiiing!” They giggled together. “Compared to it. I could squish you like a bug and not even feel it! You are, like, the size of my big toe!” Her playful threats devolved and mingled with her laughter. “Keep, ha ha, keep at it, and you will get VEEEEEERY acquainted with the bottom of my foot.”
Despite himself, Andrew reached over and tickled her extended toe, eliciting an exasperated moan, one filled with anything but frustration.
She flipped back over, still taking care to place her feet carefully flanking him. She stuck out a solitary thumb in the direction of her shoulders.
“Back rub, you little meanie!”
He thought about saying something snarky, but he didn’t want to press his luck- this little conversation of theirs was completely new to both of them, and while he knew that he teased a fair bit, he didn’t at all want to offend her.
Not that he feared her, like she might actually step on him or something.
He shook his head- his imagination was running wild! Come on, this was Darcy we’re talking about. She wouldn’t.
He couldn’t help but feel that size difference when he stepped onto her right foot, beginning to climb. She had extended her foot so that the toes created a little platform for him to start walking on. Before him was a soft and smooth ball and heel, straightened, he realized, as best she could manage. She smiled as he took another step- despite having worn sneakers all day, he found the faint perfume of her lotion waft through his nostrils. Peaches, he remembered. Something she put on everyday.
Another step. Darcy shivered beneath him.
“Hey Andrew.” She cranked her head back a little bit. “Will you take your socks off? I don’t want you slipping off my leg.” Then, hurriedly, “please, I mean?”
He saw the wisdom in that. He did so, balling up his socks and chucking them away. God knows where, probably lost in some crevice of the couch.
He continued to walk, feeling the skin of the bare feet beneath his own. As far as feelings went, it was pretty surreal. He realized that he was walking, literally, in the footprint of a giant, and it became remarkably obvious, more so than before, how easily one misstep from this giant beauty could snuff his life out.
“Mmmm,” Darcy moaned ahead of him. Was she enjoying this?
He climbed up the remarkably smooth heel and tiptoed down the thin ankle, then lower leg, and arrived at her thigh. Here it was easier by far to keep a balance, and he felt he could stretch his legs without fearing too much a fall to the couch below.
He felt the muscles cord and ripple beneath him- Darcy was flexing her calve, probably unintentionally.
Walking up her thigh was uneventful- Darcy apparently acclimated to his footsteps, because he thought the thigh felt rather loose as he walked its length. It got softer and softer, until he reached…
The mountains.
Darcy was by no means an out of shape woman- she was tall and lanky and had muscle where it counted, a gift from years of junior high and high school basketball (though she wasn’t averse to occasionally strapping on some Jordans and playing with friends nowadays); but now, flourishing in the peak years of her womanhood, Darcy had developed the curves that hallmarked her sex’s appeal- the kind of curves that belonged to dangerous femme fatales with names like Helen, Sita, or Delilah. Her breasts were full, bursting with life, her rear backside round and perky, indicative of, he recalled reading somewhere, of better neural development in offspring.
Andrew took a tenuous step forward, placing his hand ahead of him to steady himself for the long climb. As he did, he heard Darcy inhale sharply, and saw her back rise. He gripped onto the lace of her underwear, suddenly very conscious of his (and her) every movement. Convinced it was safe, he started to climb up.
It certainly wasn’t a steep climb. It was, however, very soft. He had a hard time getting footholds, and what might have been a leisurely climb had she been flat caused his knees to drive up into his stomach.
Despite his frequent runs, he found himself winded by the ascent, which was rather annoying to him. Then again, he wasn’t used to steep climbs like so.
Pausing a moment to rest, he took a second to look at the cloth below him. Now, up close, he saw the fine lattice work, admired the intricate ins and outs of the thousands of separate pieces of string. Further above, the makers mark- some popular lingerie brand that sold… Well, panties and corsets.
“Admiring the view?” The sudden question shook him from his reverie.
“No, no… Well, I mean, yeah, I really am, but…”
A giggle from behind the black hair mop. He smiled too- he was indeed getting tongue tied, something that didn’t happen very often for him.
“Just catching my breath.”
The flesh underneath him flexed ever so slightly and then relaxed. It was very odd to feel, for it to turn from flesh to almost like concrete in a smooth motion.
“I see. Well,” she cooed, “don’t get too comfortable- I still want my back rub from my little slave!” She teased.
Andrew chuckled and started the shorter climb down- it was easier than going up, but it was difficult to slow down. Before he reached the flat of her lower back, he was practically jogging, and had a hard time slowing down. In fact, he almost got slowed down completely before reaching the edge of the corset. He tried to twist his legs so as to break the momentum but instead, like in the purse yesterday, his foot got caught underneath. The momentum unchanged, he tripped, gloriously, epically, onto his face, onto the black lace of the corset, and, mercifully, not on the zipper.
“Ow.” He droned into the lace. The vibration apparently tickled Darcy.
“Gaah!” She yelped. Then, cranking her head around, “Andrew? Are you okay back there?”
He nodded as he got up in all fours.
“You’re dangerous, Darcy.”
She smirked slightly, relieved that he was okay.
“Mmhmm. And don’t you forget it, little man.”
He chuckled at that, continuing forward and beginning the slight incline of the rest of her back. The same material that graced her bottom was spread all across her back, the same patterns and intricacies interplaying one to another. Latticework. Almost as complex, he imagined, as the machines that created the fabric and material used to create the corset.
The incline was only mild, he found, and gave him no trouble.
Darcy was practically shivering when he arrived at her shoulders, the anticipation budding and building in her, growing a lovely little pit in her stomach. She couldn’t see him, to be sure, but she felt his tiny feet pad across most of her body, and that in of itself was an indescribable sensation. To know that a tiny man, a real live person, was walking all over her like she was a mountain, gave her that same feeling she had earlier yesterday when she had noted the several size differences.
She felt him squat down, felt him begin to knead the skin of her left shoulder. The sensation was only just within her perception, but it was there all the same. And, she found, it was pleasant- not in the consciousness or novelty of it alone, but it being combined to form the idea that, yes, her boyfriend could fit in the palm of her hand, and yes, beyond reason, he’d consented to the Herculean task of giving a giant woman a loving massage.
She thought about that as she felt him move from millimeter by millimeter across her scapula- the idea that he’d in fact consented to do so. Looking back now, she probably shouldn’t have used the word ‘slave’ so liberally in her conversation with him. Even still, when she had nearly dropped the word ‘pet,’ she thought she might explode with embarrassment. That close, with that recent event in mind… That was too much.
Still. He probably knew what she was going to say; he wasn’t a dummy.
She lay there, thinking about that, the millimeter movement slowing a bit behind her. He was probably getting tired, walking and kneading a billboard-sized back.
She decided to ask him for his thoughts.
“Hey Andrew.”
The movement stopped, and she heard a tiny exhale. A bit of footfall. She continued.
“Is this okay? The massage, I mean? Are you okay doing this?”
A pause.
“Well, yeah, I mean… Yes. It’s alright. Is it not working? Does it feel okay?”
Darcy blushed. He thought he wasn’t doing a good job.
Oh, my heart, she thought to herself. She wanted to clarify. She pointed dexterously with her nose to her left shoulder.
“Will you come up here to the edge?”
She felt the pads of his feet saunter lazily over, stumbling only once when she shifted her head slightly, putting him off kilter. She cranked her head to the left, seeing Andrew just enter her field of vision. It was difficult, and she strained her eyes doing so. This wasn’t working for her.
“Wait a second… In fact… Uh. Go ahead and hop on.” Her hand appeared before the toy man, who obliged and hopped up to her hand. Her fingers wrapped around him for safety, she being very careful to hold him above her head while she turned round and sat up. She brought him to her face and smiled sadly.
“No, no, you’re doing wonderful,” she reassured him, as sincere as she ever meant anything. She stroked his head softly. “I just worry that…” She bobbed her head back and forth, the fuzzy cat ears swaying with her hair. “I worry that I overstepped my bounds. Like, making you massage me, calling you my slave, stuff like that.” She leaned back down, her head resting on the armrest of the couch.
Andrew nodded, thoughtfully. He chewed his tongue.
“You don’t want to make me feel like a pet.” It was a half a question, half a statement. She nodded weakly.
“You figured, huh?”
He chuckled.
“Ha, you practically said it before you corrected yourself.” He giggled as he saw her turn a vivid red.
“I,” she stammered, embarrassed, “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to, to, to say-”
“I mean, I think I just, yknow, got caught up in the moment, and-”
“Andrew, no, you’re not a pet, or a slave, or something to be used; you’re a man and you deserve-”
“I like it!” He finally blurted.
It was like a cork had suddenly been put into the pouring bottle. It took Darcy a couple of seconds to understand what he had almost shouted, and another to comprehend the meaning.
“You what?” She tried, letting the words out like a hesitant batch of honey dripping out from the bottle.
Andrew shook his head, pointing down to Darcy’s chest. She picked up his meaning, and set him down, very gently, on her tummy. Again, she felt the tiny footpads lurch across her stomach as Andrew trotted up the incline to come between her ample breasts, wrapped tightly in the again black, again intricate lacework of the corset.
He came to a stop, then, casually, cool as a cucumber and nerdy as hell, rested his hand on her left breast, crossing his legs.
“I said, babydahl,” adopting not a New York but a Noo Yawk affect, “I likes it, see?”
Smiling at one corner, Darcy asked, “what do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t really mind,” he continued, back to his usual, “the whole pet thing. I mean, not now, I suppose.”
“Really?” A hopeful relief sound in her voice.
He nodded, sighing and widening his eyes, almost like he didn’t believe it himself.
“Yeah. I know, weird, especially after all that crap I gave you yesterday. But it’s true.” He looked up at her. “I guess… It really, doesn’t, uh, have that same negative connotation, right?” He leaned back and say down at her boob, then shifted slightly up her chest so he wasn’t working against gravity. “When you said it before, it felt like that weird owner and pet sort of deal, like I was a pet first who occasionally would be remembered as your roommate and friend.”
Darcy swallowed, causing Andrew to stabilize himself as her chest rose and fell.
“Whoa. Anyway, now that we’re,” he chuckled, scratching a cheek and grinning like hubris, “well, together, it feels different. Like this is just a temporary relationship.”
He saw the confusion in her eyes.
“I mean,” he continued, hurriedly, “after this massage is done and I’m done getting your slippers for you or cleaning your teeth or whatever, we’ll be back to, yknow, us. A couple. You and me. Does that make sense?”
Darcy grinned, couldn’t stop smiling.
“Yes,” she began. “That makes perfect sense. But there’s one thing you forgot…”
Andrew’s ears perked up at that.
“Oh? And what is that?”
“I don’t have any slippers.”
She giggled as she saw him roll his eyes, watched him crank his head up to look at her breast that he was currently leaning on.
“Well, maybe not slippers. Maybe a bra?”
Darcy mmm’d, causing Andrew to titter- the rumble in her throat vibrating under him.
“Now that would be a sight to see- my bra walking across the floor, all by itself. But wouldn’t that be heavy?”
“I don’t think the bra would be too big or heavy… I mean…”
It was a little too late before he realized his mistake- Darcy playfully squeezed her breasts together and closed then in on Andrew. The tiny man was quick, however- he was able to rise up from sitting and make a break towards her neck. He barely escaped, the huge boobs closing in behind him with a lovely squish. He tried to break for her shoulder was blocked by her face coming down and blocking the way. She pursed her lips and kissed him as he ran, knocking him back onto the soft wall of flesh an lace behind him.
“Now now,” she teased, flashing a smile, “that’s very rude- you like them, and I know it! I’ve seen you take plenty of peeks at my boobs when you thought you were bein’ slick!” She chuckle at his face turning a red.
“Yuh-huh, I’ve been watching, little guy,” she cooed. “And now you’re gonna make up for all those lookyloos you’ve taken at them. That’s a loooot of back massages and foot rubs~!”
Andrew got up and got into a tiny little football stance, his hands clawed out in front of him.
“Oh yeah, and who’s gonna make me?” He shot back, planting his feet into the flesh behind him at the base of the breasts. He gave a teeth-baring grin at her- if Darcy hadn’t known he was posturing, she might’ve been mildly intimidated. “Remember, even a cornered rabbit might turn on the predator…”
For a second, a silence hung on the air, Andrew continuing in his attack position and Darcy wearing that little smirk of hers. For a minute, Andrew wasn’t sure if he’d said an okay thing. He thought that maybe he’d offended her, maybe she’d taken his comments as an actual challenge.
No, he thought, confident that she wouldn’t be sensitive like that. Andrew had known Darcy for a characteristically level-headed woman- she had often been a great mirror to bounce ideas off of and offer another perspective to a side of something he was thinking about. She, like him, could be a fantastical example of a drama queen, but most of the time she was adroit in her thoughts and words. Still, he knew, she had her wild, chaotic side.
Something about that smirk she was wearing, in fact, had reminded him of that. It was cute, yes, no doubt, but it was also… animalistic. Ravishing. Even, he might contend… predatory.
As if on cue, she dragged her soft tongue across her upper lip, wetting it with a thin coat of saliva, making it glisten and shine in the moonlight pouring through the window. Andrew had found the gesture both fairly terrifying and, strangely, wildly erotic. He suddenly felt like that rabbit he had championed in his play-defiance.
“So, you’re my prey now, huh?” She smirkingly pursed her ruby red lips and squinted at him. An alarm in his head, one put there by millions of years of animal conditioning but only recently suppressed by the emergence of being the apex species, began blaring deafeningly. Fight or flight. Flight. Flight.
She licked her scarlet lips again.
“Guess that makes me your predator…”