Patty was the result of a mixed marriage. She had definite Indian features, but red hair and freckles. Rather the Alpha of her group of friends, who were noisily returning home from school. It was the last full day and they were all excited for summer. Patty was the type that, despite some babyfat, you could see some curves coming. She pushed open the door and called out “I’m home Daddy!”
The giant had organized things most carefully to obviously torment the hell out of you. He’d stood his laptop on end near one end of the dining room table and put your jar behind it.
“Got a …heheh…little surprise for you!” he called back, instructing “Hop into your usual dinner seat, Pat.”
You shot an annoyed glance at the awful, to you, joke. And experienced a thrill of fear at the situation. There was a bit of hair and a hint of forehead over the top of the black wall.
“It’s not really safe to put your laptop like that, you always told me.” Patty reached for it, with a look of concern.
You cringed at the sight of giant fingers, with still not a clue as to whether a boy or girl was on the other side of the wall. All the giant’s preparations and ‘thinking out loud’ seemed purposely designed to drive you mad.
“The laptop is fine this time, kiddo.” The giant gave his daughter a tolerant smile “Just makes the surprise a ..hehheh… little more fun. Now just lean up some, reach your hands around … easy, careful… You’ll find a..hehheh… little… present.”
Poor shrinky you yelled “STUPID JOKE!” then saw, not parts of fingers, but whole grasping hands coming around the wall between you.
“What was that? Asked Patty, all she heard was a muffled drone.
The giant chuckled “You’ll find out soon. But I promise, it won’t hurt you.”
“Of course not, Daddy.” She replied, leaning over a bit more and her hands met. She fiddled with what she touched “Feels like a bottle.”
You were too busy instinctively ducking away to notice the skin wasn’t the same shade as that of the giant man. After what seemed like forever, but was at most a minute, those grasping fingers took hold of the bottle.
“And NOW you may see your present.” Said the giant with a MC voice.
Patty eagerly gripped the bottle in one hand and lifted it off the table. Eyes roaming over her gift, she commented with a hint of disappointment “Well, it’s nice, but Daddy I’m getting a bit old for dolls.”
“What did I tell you to say?” asked the giant.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you sullenly reply “Some witch thought she could shrink me and sell me on Ebay. HE thinks I’m a present.”
“It talked!” Patty squealed in delight “What else does it say?”
The giant man gave his daughter an indulgent smile, then scowled “That is NOT what I told you. Introduce yourself PROPERLY or you might be puuunished.”
The giant face was partly obscured giant fingers and distorted some by the glass of the bottle. You’re reminded of Boss Nass, making you cringe in fear “I’m Peyton, I’m a living dolls product. Play with me.” It was the worst ten words out of your mouth.
“Living? As in a real person?” the giant girl’s fingers tightened on the glass and her face lit up. But she had another question “Peyton? I’ve met both boys and girls with that name. Which is this? Kinda hard to tell.”
The giant man tapped the bottle smirking “Glad you asked that, sweetie. Truth is Ebay said they didn’t know. It was up to the buyer to find out.”
“I could ask.” Was Patty’s first thought. Now she was all smiles.
The girl’s fingers kept shifting and moving, causing the bottle to turn about. Every once in a while you could see those curious eyes. couldn’t help wondering what the young giantess was thinking. The ring on her index finger kept clinking the glass, hurting your ears.
“Mmmm, you could.” Dad allowed thoughtfully then pointed out “But, then it’d be obvious when you change its clothes.”
Patty blushed violently at the suggestion “But Daddy! What if he’s a boy?!”
“Never stopped you changing Ken’s and Barbie’s.” he argued with a smile at his daughter. Then he accepted an enthusiastic hug, easily lifting small girl. He dismissed her with a quick push on the rear “Go have fun. Dinner will be at six as usual.”
The journey up the stairs consisted mostly of being twirled about and gawked at from every possible angle. You muttered “Thank God for the cork.”
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