Their Biggest Fan (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

Delilah could hardly contain herself. She walked a straight line down the specially partitioned “path” which gridded the expansive world-capital metropolis where she spent her time off-duty from military operations. All week, she’d been anxiously awaiting this day; she was decked in bold sportswear, displaying the local team’s colors in every stitch, with those same colors printed on her cheek like war paint, and her dark-honey hair was brushed back to ensure it couldn’t block her view of the competitive proceedings. The towering girl didn’t want to miss a thing.

At first she consciously strolled toward her destination slower than necessary, just to ensure that her excitement couldn’t get the better of her. Nevertheless, Delilah picked up the pace the closer she came. Her bare feet, smooth and sun-kissed, pounded the reinforced pavement, careful not to land too close to the boundaries of her specialized sidewalk, lest she accidentally cause a traffic jam for the ordinary-sized civilians in the streets far below, or mistakenly jab her pinky toe through an office building.

“You can slow down,” her friend Chris insisted from where he resided in the expansive peachy plain that was Delilah’s upturned palm. His comparatively pipsqueaky voice on its own, of course, had no chance of carrying all the way to the ears of the giantess, but his earpiece did the job. The fact that two friends supported opposing teams often played into their conversations like this while leading up to the match-commencing whistle. “The game doesn’t start for half an hour.”

“Most people try to get there a lot sooner to tailgate, you know. Like a true fan,” Delilah insisted, tilting her head down slightly to regard the miniscule being seated in one of the fleshy ravines that formed the criss-crossing creases of her hand. “I’d have gotten there sooner, if you didn’t sleep in so late. If I don’t get us there soon enough now, we’ll miss all the fun before it starts.”

“At this rate, it would’ve been slower to travel by fighter jet,” Chris laughed. He watched the cityscape below whizzing by. “Seriously, are you trying to break the land-speed record?”

“Who do you think you are, the walking police? I’m within a safe speed range, according to the protocol,” Delilah defended, smirking down at him in barely-hidden amusement. Her eyes darted to the ground, studying her expertly striding feet to double-check they stayed inside the lines again. Not a toe crossed the dotted border. The impressions from her gigantic falling soles continually molded the already well-trodden ground of her personal highway. “I’m near the upper part of the speed range, but still. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

“If you insist,” Chris shrugged, and settled back comfortably against the plush inner ridge of his chosen palm wrinkle. Four pillared feminine fingers curled in defensively above, acting as a windshield for him given this dizzying altitude. As overwhelming as it could be to exist in the company of someone of Delilah’s sheer world-breaking stature, it was a pleasant bonus when her size was so extreme, that Chris could sit in the center of her hand and feel totally safe from even the chance of tumbling over the edge.

“Besides, if we get there too late, all the best spots will be gone. And I will not forgive you if I can’t get a good view of what’s happening,” Delilah pronounced with a wink. Reaching the downtown area, she turned a corner on the path, seeing the stadium dead-ahead.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”

Delilah slowed her eager pace as the path widened into the area surrounding the sports complex. “Complex” was indeed the correct term for one of the largest and most impressive stadiums on Earth, capable of holding tens of thousands of spectators in its multi-tiered seats, and accommodating all manner of competitions in its domed fortress-like facility. For someone of Delilah’s uniquely behemoth size, however, the place wasn’t much larger than a rounded dollhouse, though the people inside were, to her, most certainly smaller than any doll.

Taking extra care here now that she was entering the complex property, Delilah maneuvered her feet into each of the designated “stepping stone” patches in the concrete. She moved with skill and grace, as though simply hopping flat rocks to avoid stepping in a gushing river, when in fact instead of water, she was avoiding stepping through the deeply populous throngs of humanity and vehicular traffic vying to park and enter the stadium for the upcoming game. Noisy and excited as the crowds were, they all stopped in place, even the cars, when Delilah’s long shadow fell over them. They watched and waited, not fearful given Delilah’s worldwide reputation for good, but still unavoidably anxious at the sight of the energetic golden-haired barefoot colossus striding above them.

Her smooth legs formed temporary sky-touching gateway arches, before she peeled the next foot off the ground, from heel to ball to toe, and methodically launched her sole toward the next waiting patch of restricted ground. Each impact was steady and as soft as the giantess could manage, though nonetheless palpable to anyone in a mile-wide radius. A hollowing thud followed each landing. Diehard fans and casual goers alike stood at a halt in the mass of citizenry, studying the billow of Delilah’s colorful team-coded skirt and the dappled sunlight passing through her shimmering blonde tresses. Some admired her beauty, some thought nervously of what would happen if her careful footfall missed by a dozen yards, but all paid silent, wary respect.

“Just about there. My regular spot is around the back, you know, so I’ll just drop you off once I’m in place. I hope I’m not holding up the line!” Delilah said to the passenger in her hand.

“That’s definitely not what’s stopping them,” Chris said. He knew his friend to be a kind and intelligent person, though even after all this time living among comparatively insect-sized beings, she still never could grasp the impression she made on those below her. It was impossible not to stop and stare. Even raised this high off the ground, so much closer to that prodigious face, from his unusual perspective in her hefty palm framed by those curled fingers, Chris had difficulty getting used to the sight.