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Moully loves hanging out with Bee. She’s friendly and nice, and she’s so small that she can fit in the palm of his hand. She’s a lot heavier than she looks though… What on earth is she made of? She’s always down to hang out with him, since she doesn't have a “job” or anything—he still doesn’t really understand that. But he knows he can show up at her building pretty much whenever to pick her up (literally). It’s so much fun to see whatever new outfit she’s wearing that day. No matter how lazy she’s feeling, she always takes the time to get dressed up, and she always looks so cute. Honestly, he’s been trying not to notice just how cute she is, trying to pretend he doesn’t notice how curvy her small body looks in some of those clothes. Sometimes when he looks at her, it makes his cheeks feel too hot.
They spend long, luxurious afternoons together strolling around the island, through the sleepy little forests, over the rolling grassy hills, strolling along the long sandy beaches with Bee held aloft in his giant hand or riding on one of his big soft shoulders. Bee loves hanging out with Moully. He’s like a big fluffy marshmallow man, huge and soft inside and out, a gentle giant with the cutest accent. He’s big enough to carry her around in his hand like a pet mouse. And when he blushes, his doughy cheeks turn rosy pink, and the soft insides of his triangular ears turn pink too. So cute… She loves when he shows up at her place out of the blue, peering inside with his big soft face through the giant hole in the wall that her and Puppycat still haven’t fixed. Unlike some people around here, Moully doesn’t care that Bee doesn’t have a job. Or that she struggles to pay rent. Or that sometimes she eats food off the floor if it still looks good.
It’s a sparklingly blue clear day on the island. The two of them find a big green hill to rest on and climb up to the grassy top. Moully stretches his large body out across the slope, lying on his back in the grass to stare up at the deep blue sky. He expects Bee to stretch out beside him, but he’s secretly thrilled when she clambers up on top of him instead, climbing him like another hill. She stretches out on her stomach, lays her head down on her arms and sighs contentedly as she sinks into his big soft body. His chest and tummy rise and fall in a slow rhythm beneath her. He’s warm and soft and squishy all over. She can’t resist poking him with her fingers, pressing little divots into his chest and watching them slowly spring back up. He holds completely still, letting her do this to him, even though it tickles like crazy.
The warm noon sun shines down on them both, and the drowsy air carries muted birdsong to their ears from the surrounding woods. Bee’s eyes are closed. She looks peacefully contented lying on top of him, absently touching the soft white flesh of his chest with her tiny hands. “This is so nice…” she groans. Moully is inclined to agree—but he doesn’t feel peaceful at all. He’s ultra aware of her soft little body lying heavily on his chest. He imagines touching her, stroking her back with his fingertips, feeling the shape of her waist and hips. The urge to do this flusters him so much that he blushes to the delicate tips of his ears. He doesn’t have the nerve to touch her back.
“You know,” he says instead, throwing caution to the wind, “I really like you, Bee.”
“Awwww, I like you too, Moully.” She lifts her head, grinning at him, but then she sees how pink he is, how hard he’s blushing. “Uh oh,” she says, snickering. She pokes him in the cheek, teasing him. “How much do you like me?”
“Well…” He looks away from her, worried that he’s making things awkward. But when he looks back, she doesn’t look uncomfortable at all.
“Do you wanna make out a little?” she asks, smiling. She says it so casually that he almost thinks he misheard her.
“Oh, I…” he says, laughing, nervous. “Like kissing? I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“Eh, it’s easy,” she says, waving her hand as if waving away his worries. “It’s fun, I’ll show you. Although… your uh… mouth is a lot bigger than mine,” she laughs, and then mutters under her breath, “That part might be kinda weird, we’ll see.”
She scoots up his torso so that their faces are closer, until she’s practically straddling his chest. Feeling her wriggling around on top of him is making Moully’s insides turn all gooey soft. He holds completely still as she presses her small soft mouth to his, planting warm kisses along his lips.
“You can feel me up a little if you want,” she says, encouraging him with her carefree smile. He carefully curls his doughy fingers around her body. His head is spinning. He brushes his fingertips over her back, just like he wanted, feeling her delicate spine with his fingertips. She hums, pleased, presses into his touch, her soft lips move against his. He boldly runs his thumb over her breast and he’s shocked by her whimper of surprised sensation.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, but when he opens his mouth to apologize, she slips her tongue inside his lips. He groans softly, making her insides thrill, and he presses his lips gently closed around her mouth, clumsily catching some of her jaw between his lips, his kiss much too big for her. He thumbs her breast again, feeling the tiny pointed tip of her nipple, and then they’re both moaning into each other’s mouths. He feels like he’s going to melt completely.
“You’re not too bad at this, Moully,” she tells him, laughing. The way he’s holding her feels so nice… His giant’s fingers, warm and gentle, curled around her, enveloping her. His fingertips shyly pressing and stroking the fleshy curves of her body. His soft round face and the insides of his ears still bright pink just from kissing her. So cute…… She has to resist the urge to grab handfuls of his soft white flesh and squeeze. She can squeeze pretty hard.
Moully breaks away first, apparently having reached his limit, letting his large head thunk back against the grass, shyly covering his eyes with his huge hand, mouth twisted between a nervous grimace and a big stupid smile.
“That was really nice,” she says, dreamily petting his fingers.
“Yeah…” he says, all eloquence. He realizes his hand is still curled around her body, unconsciously gripping her, and he begins to nervously pull away.
“No, don’t,” she says. “Leave them there.” She lies back down on her stomach, resettling herself across his chest, and draws his fingers back over her like a blanket. She sighs happily under their warm heavy weight. He hardly dares to move. His thoughts are in disarray. He wants her worse than ever now, kissing only made it worse. Will she want to do it again sometime?
“Bee?” he asks. No response. She’s fallen fast asleep.