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I wasn’t exactly a “car guy” before I met Amber. So it would be completely fair of anyone to accuse me of forcing myself to have a masculine hobby, since I definitely wasn’t going to ever outshine my monolithic girlfriend in any sport. And while that might’ve been true at first, I eventually came to enjoy tinkering with my fixer-upper of a Chevy, learning its ins and outs, and getting my hands dirty with oil. Amber of course fully supported my initially out-of-character hobby. There was never a reason to feel an iota of regret for my choice of extracurricular interest, until this morning, when while tending on the vehicle’s undercarriage, the support blocks gave out and the truck caved down on top of me.

I counted myself lucky that there was still enough clearance among the smoky inner workings below that I wasn’t outright smushed by my own favorite toy. Still, the fall inflicted a few bruises, pinning both my arms in place, and sat low enough over my mostly-submerged frame that worming my way back out toward the light was going to be impossible. I tried not to panic, but after calling out for help a few times in the least-hysterical voice I could muster, to no answer, and then recalling that Amber was off on an errand, I did allow myself the luxury of some panic. I occasionally called out for help again just in case anyone could hear, to no avail, but mostly just worried what would happen if the truck slumped mortally lower, or if Amber came home and found me buried in a grave of my own weirdly-chosen hobby. My pulse raced and I felt maybe the most vulnerable I ever had.

Then, the strangest thing happened. I took a deep breath, my anxieties faded before I could understand why, and then I reached a zen state, or at least relatively so given the soreness of my arms pinned beneath the truck. At first curious why I felt so fine, since an emergency like this would’ve sent me into a neurotic spiral earlier in life, I felt foolish when finally realizing that Amber was the key difference in my life now. And somehow or other, I felt surer than anything that I’d be okay, because she would find me.

“She’ll be here soon,” I quietly stated to myself and the universe, and meant it. “She will.”

Half an hour later, I heard a muted gasp, followed by the metallic groan of my truck bed straining against the far-superior strength of Amber’s grasp. Up ahead in this claustrophobic trap beneath the vehicle, I saw my enlarged girlfriend’s fingertips, thick as telephone poles, curling against the underside of the truck with the ease of a diecast model. Then at once the incredible pressure lifted away. I gasped fresh air non-tainted by motor oil, blinked in the sunlight, then found myself meekly sprawled in the shade of an eighty-foot-tall Amber’s crouched form. I was so glad to see her, and so vindicated in my rescue-assured trance, that it took me a moment to realize why my humongous partner looked like she was on the verge of tears. Easily gripping my partially deconstructed truck in just one hand, she slammed her opposite palm over her lips to stifle a pitying shriek. Then, with fear-widened eyes, she delicately reached for me, scooping her fingers beneath my body ever-so-slowly to ensure she wasn’t hurting me by picking me up, and only then whisked my limp shape up toward her face just as a couple tears trickled down her cheeks.

It was disarming to see Amber nearly break down, not just because she was tough enough to pluck a Chevy off her boyfriend in one clawed yank, but because I’d actually seen her perform several far more treacherous superpowered saves on the news before: catching falling helicopters out of the sky, stopping bank robber getaway cars by slamming her foot down in front of them, and even growing to five hundred feet so she could push a tipped-over skyscraper by hand back onto its foundations. And she always kept her cool in those situations, even with hundreds of lives at stake and the world’s eyes on her. I’m pretty sure I’d never even seen her cry, which definitely fit with her whole confident brave do-gooder aesthetic - heck, I’d cried at least once in front of her before, when we watched a sad movie. Yet here we were in our backyard, and she was starting to sniffle and weep, with a truck in one hand and me in the other.

“C-Collin?” she murmured, still looking at me with delirious nerves. “Are you okay? PLEASE, tell me you’re okay!”

“I’m fine,” I promised her with a smile: a bit weary, but by no means broken. “Especially now.”

“You don’t have to just say that just so I won’t worry about you, you know,” she replied. “Just look at you. Look at where I found you. Your truck almost crushed you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d come back, and you were… were… S-Sorry, I can’t even say it out loud, but think about if I couldn’t do the things I can do.”

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten me out, one way or another,” I said. “Growing powers, or not. You’d still pick that truck right off me.”

“How can you make jokes right now?”

“I’m not. I mean, maybe you couldn’t just lift it up with one hand without your powers, but c’mon… you’re really smart. Resourceful. And you stay way cooler under pressure than me. You’d have found a way to pry it off me. I’m sure of it.”

Amber observed me for a moment, brow furrowed and eyes watery, in intensely troubled thought, although she seemed to accept that I was speaking the truth. She casually wiped her tear-wetted cheek with the back of that same hand still holding my truck so tightly like a stress ball that I could see the sides beginning to dent from her white-knuckle clenching. The giantess seemed to remember at the same time that she was still gripping a car at all, and batting her eyes, set it back in the grass, then cradled both palms around me like a makeshift hospital bed.

“Okay, charmer. So how did you stay so calm, then?” Amber asked after a traumatic sigh. Without having to say it, of course she was referring to the fact that I (as I’ve told her many times) used to be much more prone to freaking out in the face of disaster.

“Easy,” I told her. “Because I knew you were coming back to get me.”

The conviction of my trust at last seemed to win her over. Amber diminished in scale back down to “only” nine feet tall, which allowed her to keep me swaddled rather pitifully across her arms like a sleeping kid to carry back inside the house, and I wasn’t about to resist her. I’d avoided any serious injuries from the truck incident, but it still hurt, and how could I possibly say no to a lovely blonde valkyrie whose head bumped the ceiling until she knelt down to stick bandages over my bruises? I’d have to be crazy.

###

“Well? What do you think?” Amber melodramatically asked, while strutting down the stairs and along the hall to model her newly-designed super-suit, with her chin held high and chest stuck out. She gave her hips a swanky thrust with every dramatic step, and though I knew she was putting on an act of exaggerated domineering bravado to both humor and titillate me at once, I couldn’t help but think that she could have also used that same tone without any irony, just believing herself to be superior to all living things she encountered, and I wouldn’t have thought her the least bit vain. Because really, as I looked my awe-inspiring girlfriend up and down in her stylish black-and-white super-duds, with the fabric hugged to every complimentary swell of musculature and asset as though she was dripping wet, it was easy to believe and accept that she was better than everyone else. It wouldn’t be narcissism, but simple fact.

“B-Beautiful!” I practically squeaked. I knew I sounded like a lovesick dummy, but I couldn’t help it.

A smile crossed Amber’s lips as she looked down on me, then stroked her fingers over my cheeks, and gently cupped my chin in her palm to encourage me to continue staring straight up at her. Not that I needed the reminder. She shook her head, laughing under her breath at the obvious hypnotic result her appearance had on me. I’m pretty sure I was drooling now.

“Oh, is THAT all? Just one word? So disappointing…” she sarcastically replied, then performed a slow catwalk twirl while steadily growing above her six-four base stature, her body filling the room almost like Alice in the white rabbit’s Wonderland house, until she had to kneel slightly to still fit inside without crunching in the walls and ceiling. Though of course it was me that felt the urge to bow in her presence instead. Naturally that new outfit altered size right along with her, and looked even more radiant on her powerfully amplified figure. With her palm pressed to the floor and one burly thigh splayed out to the side as though she’d just performed a stereotypical superhero landing after sliding down a skyscraper like a fire station pole, my giantess mate looked so effortlessly mighty and aggressive yet still warm and vigilant. And nerdy as it sounds to say, the coolest superhero ever in this new suit. But then again, I’m biased. She sure loves to show off, and God, is she ever good at it. She probably wouldn’t even get the chance to wear this on-duty for a while, given the downturn in crime, but I wasn’t about to complain about Amber finding an excuse to flaunt.

It had thrown me off in the early days of our relationship, when I first realized just how incredible it was to belong in Amber’s orbit, and how much I felt the instinct to worship her just as much as meet her as an equal romantic partner. Sometimes it was hard to remember that, as much as she obviously enjoyed the devotion I humbly gave her, she in fact wanted me to not forget that we were “equals” in this relationship. Or at least as equal as it could get when she had the power to step out our front door, then grow until she could hold our whole house in the palm of her hand. Did I even deserve Amber? To look at her?

“Well, little one? Anything to add?” she purred.

“Stunning,” I uttered, but with the significance of a whole novel’s worth of praise weighing heavy in that one word. I just hoped she felt it.

“Darn right I am,” Amber cooed. “Now come closer, cutie. We’ll see if I can come up with some words for you now.”

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THE END (for now)

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