At ninety-nine feet in height and close to four hundred tons, Dubwana Kalakonje was the largest animal ever to walk the earth. He had become an instant international celebrity when his existence was finally revealed by the South African government. Dozens of TV shows told the story of his remarkable life: how he had been discovered in a secret Ugandan laboratory after the fall of Idi Amin Dada, either found in the wild or created by science to be a terror weapon for the crazed dictator, and then spirited away to a secret reserve after the fall of the regime. I had watched each one again and again, eventually wearing out the videotapes. I felt that I knew Dubwana better than I knew myself...and now he had registered to attend the same American university as I did.

I was in ninth grade when the story of the amazing giant came to light, and before long had cut out a massive collage of magazine articles and pictures and pasted them to the wall of my bedroom. There were snapshots of Dubwana as a baby from back in the 70's, a big spotty puffball with bright blue eyes, utterly adorable even if he was as big as an elephant. My prize was a big full-color poster of Dubwana as a teenager towering over the South African Parliament building. I think The Discovery Channel put it out as a promotion or something. In the poster he had his hands on his hips and was peering down toward the viewer, his midsection swathed in a colorful African wrap and a wide cheerful smile on his muzzle.

The only part I didn't like was the logo at the bottom. Big yellow letters with black spots, an obvious play on Dubwana's cheetah-like appearance, which read "TRIUMPH OF SCIENCE OR FREAK OF NATURE?" I often wanted to cut that part off, since I didn't think Dubwana was either. If anything, he was a triumph of nature, a thing of such beauty and power that it made my mind reel just thinking about it. I suppose I was in love even back then.

Words can't describe exactly how I felt when it was announced shortly after the beginning of my freshman year that Dubwana Kalakonje, the famous colossus of Africa, had made arrangements to be educated at an American university -- mine. The news hit me like a brick, and I was punch-drunk for quite a long time after hearing it. The story had a surreal quality, as though I was suddenly stuck in one of the thousands of dreams I'd had over the past few years. For a while I was even afraid to go to sleep at night, worried that I just might wake up and find that, indeed, it had all been in my head.

A year never passed more slowly for me. I am sure, though, that there were a lot of soaring blood pressures within the university's administration which had precious little time to prepare for the arrival of the giant. They began with a masterful fund-raising campaign that attracted just about every major corporation in the country as well as generous donations from the US Government. With money in hand, they hired a New Jersey construction firm to build an immense dormitory on a tract of fallow farmland adjoining the campus. I got to watch the structure being erected, day by day something that looked like a huge barn growing up over the trees that bordered the university's land. The ground rumbled daily from trucks and earthmovers as they carved out wide roadways crisscrossing the campus from one major building to another. It gave us all a chance to grow accustomed to the constant tremors we would doubtless be feeling once the new student arrived.

I followed the preparations carefully as they unfolded. Closed-circuit TV cameras and speakers were installed in almost every classroom. Other buildings had huge vacant lots excavated beside them. The Press was everywhere, constantly wandering around campus and through the dormitories, constantly pestering people for their thoughts on the subject. I avoided them as much as I could. I knew from reading his biography that Dubwana was a shy creature who understood the curiosity that people held for him, but was nonetheless uncomfortable with the attention that curiosity drew. I hoped that the university was also aware of this and would keep the newshounds away so their famous student could concentrate on his studies.

Time inched forward. The final weeks before Dubwana's arrival seemed like years; the final days seemed like weeks; the final hours -- those were back to feeling like years. Then, as thousands of eager students, townspeople, and cameramen gathered in the fields alongside the campus, the fresh Autumn air was shaken by a deep, shuddering roar. From over the horizon there appeared a monstrous airplane, a military cargo transport, its engines straining with the enormous weight of its cargo. It lumbered across the sky and headed for a special runway that had been sliced out of the rolling farmlands by the Army Corps of Engineers. A stand of trees at the far end of the field blocked our view of the landing itself, but we could all hear the engine's roar subside and then stop entirely, and we waited breathlessly.

At first we felt only a quiver, hardly noticeable at first, but quickly growing stronger. The crowd, which had been murmuring, fell silent. We felt it again, and then again, each time more pronounced. A few excited whispers began to flit about. My heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I could barely hear them. The ground shook harder and harder, like a mighty drumbeat, slow and measured, drawing inexorably nearer.

A dull booming, like distance artillery, began to echo around us. There was another tremor, and a pair of rounded ears appeared over the treetops in the distance. Still another tremor, and into view came the head of a cheetah, swaying slowly to and fro as it rose higher above the trees, its eyes cast downward. A pair of narrow shoulders shrouded in blue appeared beneath the feline head, and the crowd realized all at once that the newcomer was wearing a university T-shirt. Thunderous applause broke out.

The lips on the great cat's face drew back in what looked to me like a shy smile, though its eyes never glanced up from the ground. Taller and taller the figure loomed, and then a huge leg swung over the treetops, its great pawlike foot crashing to the earth and raising a cloud of dust around it. There the giant paused, finally raising his eyes toward the clamoring crowd ahead. For a moment I imagined that he was looking straight at me, his gaze lingering just a second before it dropped once more. He lifted his other foot over the treeline and set it down. Boom.

Ahead of him a trio of police four-by-fours began to trundle forward. The giant followed slowly, clutching in his hand a suitcase that looked big enough to hold all of the people who had gathered to greet him. The impact of his footfalls made the police vehicles bounce visibly as they approached, the crowd parting ahead of them to make a clear path for the big cat. As he drew near he stopped again, and his eyes flickered over the many upturned faces below him. Then, taking a deep breath, he stooped and set his suitcase down. When he spoke, it was as though a thunderstorm had broken out, but one with the most pleasant and musical African accent.

"My name is Dubwana Kalakonje," he boomed. A few people around me put their hands over their ears, a gesture which he must have noticed, because he winced apologetically and lowered his voice. It still made the air quiver around me, but it was no longer painful. "I am very honored to have been accepted at this institution, and I am looking forward to beginning my studies."

He fidgeted a little, his tail flicking about behind him as though he were very nervous. The speech sounded as though he'd practiced it too much. "I have been asked if I would be willing to let you all see the accommodations that have been...that have been put together for me. Since some of you are curious, you are welcome to visit for a short time. I ask only that you please watch my step."

Quiet laughter rolled through the crowd, but most of them were staring in silent awe, the joke not registering. Dubwana smiled, looking relieved to have gotten through his little speech, and picked his suitcase back up. Policemen urged a few stragglers off of the packed dirt road and started toward the barn that would serve as Dubwana's home, and the giant followed them. His eyes remained fixed on the ground ahead of him. He walked with a slow and deliberate tread, taking great care not to step on any of his future classmates. I stood motionless with the other gawkers as Dubwana's foot came down right ahead of me. The impact jarred my bones as his foot sank down into the rock-hard earth as easily as into wet sand. In a few seconds it rose again, dust swirling around it in graceful clouds. In just six steps he was a hundred yards down the road, with the onlookers falling hastily in behind.

I paid only nominal attention to Dubwana's tour as he opened the great doors to his house to give the spectators a look at its interior. It was functional, if not very fancy. There was a mat on the floor for him to sleep upon, which he explained was what he was accustomed to in his homeland, a few huge shelves, and an alcove in the back with "the necessary plumbing." Flashbulbs flickered wildly as Dubwana began to unpack his clothing, which I noticed consisted entirely of oversized T-shirts and shorts with the logos of his corporate sponsors emblazoned on them.

That made me angry. Such indignity, to be forced to wear what were basically billboards in return for a corporation's "generosity." It was prostitution! And these people, these gaping yokels, what right had they to be there? How dare these people treat such a remarkable creature like a sideshow attraction? I wanted to rush to the front of the crowd and push them all away, send them back to their holes to find some other freak to take pictures of.

The police beat me to it, though. "...and the entire building has the most efficient sound-proofing known to modern engineering, so that I will not disturb you all if I snore," Dubwana concluded. "And now, please forgive me for being a rude host, but it has been a long and cramped journey for me and I shall need to rest. I look forward to seeing you all in class."

On cue, the police began to bustle people away from the building. Dubwana smiled down at us, and once again I fancied that his gaze lingered on me for a moment before he pulled the big doors shut.

To my relief, my concerns over Dubwana's privacy had not been lost on the university. An email from the president welcoming us back to campus included a bold paragraph saying that the field surrounding Dubwana's house was absolutely off-limits. It went on to describe the various punishments for being caught there, and remember that campus police are watching, and remember also that the earthen paths are for Dubwana's use only and that students found traversing them were in big trouble as well as in danger of being trampled, and so forth. I was relieved that such great care had been taken to ensure that Dubwana would not turn into a tourist attraction, but then I began to realize that it was going to make it difficult to talk to him. Still, I was eager to try. Sequestered though he might be, I was not going to pass up the opportunity to meet him.

The administration had kept Dubwana's class schedule a closely guarded secret in order to prevent a run on those classes, so there was great excitement among the students on the first day of the semester as everyone wondered where the remarkable new student would appear. Everyone was whispering and craning their necks toward the cathouse, as the barn had been dubbed, but Dubwana had not made an appearance by the time the first classes got underway. I began to worry that I may not have any classes with him since I was a year ahead. It was not uncommon for freshmen to take second-year classes if they performed well enough on placement tests, though. Dubwana was said to be highly intelligent, so I held out hope that we still might bump into one another.

My second class of the day was an English literature course, one of those that nobody takes voluntarily other than to satisfy a Humanities requirement. Like all classes of its kind it was held in a musty room with no windows, apparently designed to get us into the spirit of reading crumbling old tomes by candlelight. I slumped into a chair, bored, and was pondering whether the Cliffs Notes section of the bookstore would have any stock left when the professor shuffled in. "Good morning, Everyone," he said with as much cheer as a doctor informing a patient that he has syphilis. "Mr. Kalakonje, are you joining us?"

The speaker on the wall behind me crackled abruptly. "Yes, I am, thank you."

"Good. Now, the title of this course is, naturally, English Literature Twenty-Three, an exploration of works from the period between the War of the Roses and..."

I didn't hear any more. I just sat dumbfounded, shaking all over with excitement. It was him! He was in my class! All I could see was a black box on the wall, but it was still Dubwana's voice. He was just on the other side of it. This was closer to Dubwana Kalakonje than I had ever hoped I would be. It was as though the box was Dubwana, sitting there right next to me. I could feel the thunder of his voice in my bones. I could almost touch him.

Somewhere along the line the class came to an end. I can't remember a single thing the professor said except for his closing remarks. "No questions? Mr. Kalakonje, have you any questions?"

"No, I do not. Thank you."

"Dubwana!"

My voice rang off of the dusty walls. Everyone turned abruptly and stared at me. The silence that followed was, as they say, deafening, and I felt warmth rushing into my cheeks. After a moment the speaker crackled, "Yes?"

I was paralyzed. I had no idea what to say, and even less of an idea why I had suddenly called out to him. "I...um, I just wanted to say that it is a real pleasure...um, to have you in class with me. With us!"

There was another pause. "Thank you very much," the voice said politely. "It is a pleasure to be here."

That was all. Other people in the room began to snicker. The professor was smirking. Mortified, I gathered up my books and scuttled out without another word.

I felt like an idiot, which of course I was. Once outside, I found myself a bench and plopped down on it. I got some bemused looks from classmates as they sauntered past me out of the building, although one did try to cheer me up. "I know how you feel," she said kindly as she walked by. It didn't make me feel any less a jerk, but it felt good to know I wasn't alone in my admiration for the giant.

I was seriously considering blowing off my next and final class of the morning when I felt a sudden trembling in the earth, then a tense stillness, and then another quiver. I jumped up from the bench, excitement welling up in me, my earlier humiliation forgotten. Some people hurried to join me, more and more of us gathering as the pounding cadence grew louder and stronger.

Maple trees overhung the area where we had gathered, their big leaves hiding the sky from view. Nearby was one of the broad dirt pathways that had been bulldozed across the campus. With each impact the dust on the pathway puffed upward in little clouds. A pair of male students, ignoring the gasps and warnings of their classmates, climbed eagerly over the rope barrier that separated us from the path. The shielded their eyes and looked skyward.

"Pardon me, please."

The words, roaring from on high like a passing jet, sent the two scrambling wildly back over the rope. Leaves shaken loose from the trees started to trickle down around us as the pounding steadily grew heavier. Then a foot the size of cargo van emerged from the canopy above. It fell hard, jarring us and arousing a collective gasp. I could only watch in awe as the huge foot settled into the dirt, anklebone and tendons flexing beneath the fur as the unimaginable weight rolled toward the toes. Another foot swept past, whistling softly through the air, and the first one rose swiftly to follow to follow.

"He's going to the science building," someone murmured. All at once the crowd was in pursuit, babbling excitedly. I ran along with them through the trees and out into the open. Dubwana loomed overhead, his muscular legs flexing with each step, tail swaying behind him in a beautiful and perfect wave. I felt an almost painful stirring deep inside, a gnawing feeling which I had felt since the first time I put the pictures of Dubwana up on my walls and which I had tried for years to discount. Now, however, as hard as I tried, I could not ignore the yearning that was boiling up within me, could not deny any longer that Dubwana really turned me on.

He stopped outside of the science building with the crowd close at his heels. Under his arm he had a small bundle, though small only to him. He unfolded it into a mat which he spread in a hollow depression behind the building, and then sat down upon it and folded his legs. In his lap he positioned a flat board upon which were the largest sheets of paper that I'd ever seen. Then he seemed to notice for the first time the crowd that had gathered around him.

At first he looked dismayed, his ears sinking back against his head, but then they stood up again and his features softened into a patient smile. "I hope nobody will miss class on my account," he rumbled. "I would feel very guilty."

The gentle admonishment hit its mark. Awkwardly the students began to shuffle away, one at a time, until I was left standing by myself beside the immense feline. He peered at me expectantly, but I made no move. I couldn't. In my dreams I had stood in this same position with him dozens of times. Now, standing transfixed before him, I could feel for the first time the warmth radiating from his furry hide, the puff of his breath swirling around me. My brain seemed to have disconnected itself from my body. An hour seemed to pass. Finally, mercifully, he broke the silence. "You look petrified," he said in a voice that was surprisingly quiet for his size. "I will not eat you, if that is what you are worried about."

I managed to jerk myself out of the trance. "Oh...me. Sorry! Ha-ha...I'm taking physics, uh, in here, in a minute, I mean now, so I belong here, and...I should be getting inside, I guess."

He nodded. "Yes. They are about to start." He turned to peer into one of the windows, but then his head swung back toward me. "Say..."

I stiffened.

"Aren't you in my Literature class?"

My heart fell into my belly at the sudden reminder of my mortification. "Yeah," I mumbled. "That was me. Sorry about that. I felt like such a jerk."

"Don't," he said with a soft chuckle. "It was nice to be welcomed. Now quick, get inside. They're starting without you."

"Yeah. Right. Uh, see you!" I backed away from him and then darted into the side door of the building, up the stairs, and into the classroom. I could see Dubwana's face filling the windows at the rear of the room as I entered. The professor gave me a cold look and glanced very pointedly at his watch, and then began his lecture.

I noticed that there were other people who were having as much trouble as I was concentrating on their notes. All around the room heads would occasionally turn and peek backward at the yellow slitted eyes that gazed in at us. It reminded me of a horror movie scene. All that was missing was the heroine with the bouffant hairdo letting out her piercing scream, and then the big furry paw reaching in for her. The image would have made me laugh if my head hadn't also been filled with other images that I was trying hard to bury in my guilty imagination. They stayed with me throughout the entire class, and once again I could remember nothing of the lecture afterward.

When at last the class was dismissed I hurried outside, hoping for a chance to try to make a better second impression on Dubwana than my first, but he had already gotten up and was quite a distance away by the time I emerged from the building. I could see crowds lining the ropes as he made his way down the path toward the cathouse and finally disappeared behind the treetops. I tried very hard not to dwell on just how foolish I had made myself appear.

The days plodded onward as the semester got into full swing. I was amazed to find that the spectacle that Dubwana caused very quickly faded. In the same way that ironworkers learn to dance around on high girders without even a thought to falling, the students soon grew accustomed to the giant's presence. Reports on the news had died down; after a week, very few people flocked to the path to see Dubwana pass by, or stood to wait for his arrival outside of the science building.

Except for me, of course, although I tried not to be too obvious about it. I found excuses, or made them up, to just happen to be in the same places he would be. I found my attraction to him becoming almost an obsession. I would follow him sometimes, just to watch his buns working under his shorts. The sight alone made me lightheaded and it was all I could do to keep from tripping over benches.

The one thing that I could not do was talk to him for any length of time. It angered me that I couldn't get over the butterflies I felt whenever I got his attention. My stomach would knot up tightly, and so would my tongue. The most I could bring myself to say to him was, "Hi again," or something inane like, "It's going to be a cold one tonight." That was especially ludicrous, since the temperature in that part of the country hadn't dropped below sixty degrees for decades. Dubwana answered simply that he had enough fur to keep warm, and that naturally made me think about warm fur, and that made my tongue lock up so tightly that I could only nod and walk away.

I kept telling myself that to obsess over him like that was not only harmful to me, but it was disrespectful to Dubwana. Even so, the mind can rarely talk sense to other parts of the body, and three weeks into the semester my mind finally gave up the fight. I do not remember if it was anything in particular that drove me over the edge, but with thoughts of Dubwana spinning unrelentingly through my head all day long, by evening I lost all sense of rationality and decided that I was going to sneak in to his house to see him. The very idea was insane, of course. Four students had already been caught trying the same trick. The university had made fine examples of them, and after that nobody else had dared to try to approach the cathouse without Dubwana's prior consent and the requisite Campus Security escort.

Nobody, that is, until that night. The risk was worth it to me, though. I was desperate, and as I said not really in my right mind. Love will do that to you.

It was late, it was dark, and there was a chill in the air that kept many of the students indoors. I had little trouble sneaking across the open field toward the cathouse without being spotted. Only after I had reached the shelter of the towering walls did I bother to wonder how I was going to get in. There were two human-sized doors in the building, but of course both were securely locked. I tried listening at them, but there was nothing to hear. The soundproofing inside the building lived up to its advertising. Growing less rational and more desperate, I prowled in a slow circle around the building. I rose on tiptoe as I passed the smaller barn that housed Dubwana's supply of cows (civilized though he was, he was still a predator) for fear that they would start a racket if I disturbed then. The last thing I wanted was to be caught now when I was so close to my goal. Afterward -- well, I was not thinking of that. It did not seem to matter. After passing twice between the two structures I finally noticed a maintenance ladder set into the cathouse wall and leading up into the darkness. It seemed like such timely good fortune that I was well on my way up before I even had a chance to think about how far away the ground was getting.

The ladder led along the curve of the roof to its peak. There I found a long, narrow platform upon which perched a row of skylights stretching the full length of the building. The nearest ones were covered by drawn shades on the inside, but I could see light streaming up from one further down the rooftop. Treading carefully to avoid any creaking boards that might give me away, I stole up to the window and peeked down into it... and was overwhelmed.

Dubwana was passing below me, the top of his head sweeping past, his tail following like a giant spotted snake behind him. The building quivered with his footfalls, although no sound escaped as he vanished into the bathroom. I waited, shaking with excitement and barely breathing, until at last he reemerged, and when he did he was naked.

I thought my heart was going to stop, or explode, or both. The sight of him was like a bolt of lightning through my body. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in sheer joy. Dubwana stopped directly below me, lifted onto his toes and stretched, raising his enormous hands up over his head. They clenched in the air just a few yards below my perch. His body, as lean and rangy as any cheetah should be, was so smoothly muscled, so perfect. His clothing always made him look skinny; without them, I could plainly see just how much strength was housed in that slender frame. I remember thinking at that moment that I would never again in my life see a sight as enrapturing, as overpowering, as utterly arousing as the one below me.

I was wrong.

After his grand stretch he sat down and then settled back on his mat, sprawling himself out as only a cat can. My eyes pulled instantly to his groin. Guilt was the furthest thing from my mind now; there was only the sensual splendor of the giant stretched out below me. I held my breath as I watched his hand descend to cover the long, flaccid sheath that lay on his belly, and which quickly began to swell larger beneath the touch. Before my eyes his titanic malehood emerged, growing larger, sliding smoothly along his belly, and then vanishing again as his fist enclosed it. His fingers began to slide lovingly along its length, its glistening surface appearing briefly before being hidden from view, only to emerge again on the other side of his hand. My eyes followed every stroke, drinking in the display. When the night breeze billowed past me I could feel cool moisture at the front of my pants.

Dubwana's hand abruptly jerked away from his erection. The sudden motion startled me out of my stupor, and with an icy jolt I realized that Dubwana was sitting up. His eyes were wide and were staring straight at me. Only then did I notice my shadow on the glass pane before me. At some point the moon had slipped unnoticed from behind the clouds, and now it had trapped me in its glaring illumination.

Dubwana suddenly rolled to his feet and seized a pair of shorts from the clothes rack. Snarling angrily, he scrambled into them and stamped toward the door. "Uh-oh," I said aloud, and then I, too, was scrambling. No longer worried about making noise I made a mad dash toward the ladder, which was suddenly much farther away than I remembered it being. I almost made it, and was reaching for the top rung when a furry hand with claws as big as farming sickles swept up from below and crashed down inches ahead of me. The roof rocked violently with the impact. My feet skidded on the tarpaper as I tried to stop and run in the opposite direction. The hand started groping behind me, a thunderous growl rumbling from below the edge of the roof. I yelped and kicked back when I felt a finger brush my leg, and a half-second later something like a warm leather blanket came down on my back. It was unbearably heavy and drove me down to my knees. Fingers surrounded me, squeezing me into immobility, and then I was being hauled violently through open air. The wild ride made my stomach twist and lurch as the lights of the university streaked by, and then abruptly I was staring into the moonlit face of the giant cheetah, his teeth bared and glittering almost as ferociously as his eyes were.

"What do you think you are you doing?" he demanded. I expected to be deafened by his voice, but through his clenched jaws came only a frigid hiss. His fingers tightened slowly around me, making it harder and harder to breathe. "Eh? Say something. What were you doing up there?"

I wanted to squirm, but I was held so tightly I could not budge. I couldn't even twitch a finger, my body completely enveloped in his hand, his flesh pressing tightly inward on all sides against me. "P-please," I somehow managed to sputter. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything."

His grip relaxed a little, and he glanced quickly from side to side in a motion that filled me with dread. I felt that he was looking to see if there were any witnesses. It was terrifyingly obvious just then that he could kill me in an instant, and his eyes burned with so much fury that I thought for certain he was about to do so. It would take only a casual tightening of his fist and I would be dead. I started to wonder if I would live long enough to feel any pain.

Instead, he took a very deep breath and closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them again he seemed more flustered than angry. "Where do you get the right to spy on me? You have been following me around for weeks, and now you try something like this! Why won't you leave me alone?"

Those words crushed me more thoroughly than he could have with all the strength in his hand. "I'm sorry," I said shakily, my fear overcome by dismay. "I mean, I'm really sorry. I just...I just wanted to see you."

His grip tightened again, just a little. "You see me every day. I can never get away from you!" A growl rumbled in his throat. "I am going to call the police. I can't have people like you stalking me."

"No!" I swallowed and closed my eyes tightly. "I'll leave you alone, I promise. I really didn't mean any harm. I couldn't help it. I just had to see you. I won't come near you again."

He snorted, his breath whipping past my hair. "So what did you have to see me for?" he said bitterly. "Anxious to see the giant freak? Maybe you were going to sell tickets to see me, eh? Come see the spotted giant for only a dime, is that it?"

"No..." Tears now started flowing feely. "It's nothing like that. I swear it! I'm just...I'm attracted to you."

He fell silent and stared at me, his eyes wide in the moonlight. He shook his head briskly and then stared for a moment, confused. "What?"

"I'm...attracted to you," I said in a very weak voice.

Dubwana continued to stare, his ears back, and then he groaned and shook his head hard. The earth shuddered as he carried me to the front of his house, squatted down, and dumped me unceremoniously onto the path. "You will not bother me again," he snarled as he stood up again. I rolled over, staring up at him, and the sight of him made heart freeze solid. I suddenly knew what it felt like to be a beetle about to be stepped on. That awful, blazing fury had come back to his eyes and when I saw his right foot lift from the ground I fully expected to see it sweep forward over me. But instead he stepped back and grabbed the handle of the door. "Get out of here now. Go on!" he snapped, waving his other hand at me. "Get out! Go away and don't come near me again!"

The door crashed shut ahead of me, and then everything was agonizingly silent. I saw a yellow flashing light reflected off the wall ahead and knew that Security was coming to investigate the disturbance. Crawling to my feet, I crouched and scurried as fast as I could for the cover of the trees nearby. and from there on to my own dormitory. If they had tried hard enough, the security officers could easily have tracked me down by the trail of tears I left behind.

The next few days were absolutely miserable. I wanted nothing more than to apologize to Dubwana for what I'd done, but he had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me. That alone hurt more than anything. For years I had idolized him, dreamed about him, and now that very obsession had caused me to lose it all. I found myself wishing that he had squashed me that night. It would have spared me the pain of living every day knowing just how badly I had screwed things up.

I avoided him as much as I could. That itself was hard on me. I even took to sitting with my back to a pillar in the physics lecture hall so that Dubwana would not have to see me when he looked in, and that I would not accidentally catch a glimpse of his cold, indignant eyes peering back at me. I tried to deal with it, to put him out of my life and move on, but I still cried a little when I thought of how I had managed to ruin the one thing I had ever really wanted.

A week passed, or maybe it was more. I had fallen so far behind in physics since it was so hard for me to concentrate in class that I made up my mind to drop the course entirely. After one more lecture of brooding and squirming in the glow of the unseen eyes behind the pillar, I gathered up my books as usual and slumped out through the side door which I had begun using to avoid passing the giant seated outside. I only got a few steps before my name came rumbling toward me from behind.

I stopped short, almost dropping my books, and didn't have the courage to turn around. "That's your name, isn't it?" the voice boomed. I managed to turn then, and looked shakily up at Dubwana. He was watching me, his face expressionless, his eyes felinely unreadable. "I want to talk to you for a second, if you have time."

Just standing before him was agony for me. I could think of nothing but the justifiable anger in his voice as he had driven me away from his house. Shame burned hotly behind my cheeks. "Yes?" My voice was hardly more than a squeak.

He stood and folded his mat, then peered down at me for a few seconds. His tail flipped behind him. He seemed to be considering his words carefully. "I realize that I was very harsh with you last week, perhaps more so than was called for."

I shook my head in disbelief. "No, you weren't. I deserved it. What I did -- God, I can't believe I was such a jerk. If someone had done that to me, I know I would have..." I made a vague, uncomfortable gesture with my hand.

"Well, yes." He touched a fingertip thoughtfully to his chin. "I'm still not very happy with having my privacy invaded." Here my heart sank painfully, but then he smiled a little. "But in retrospect, I don't think I should have been as stern as I was. Would you please come and see me tonight? I would like to talk this through, so we will both feel better."

It was like being hit by a truck. "Tonight? You mean, as in, tonight?"

He laughed a little. "Yes, tonight, if you want to. After dinner, though. I do not think you would be happy to visit while I am eating dinner."

I thought of the cow barn next to his house. "Um. Yeah...sure. Look, I really am sorry. I feel like such a shit."

"That's good. It will keep you from doing it again." He winked at me, then tucked his mat and his notepad under his arm and strode off down the path. "This time you can come in through the front door," he said over his shoulder.

I didn't know whether to jump for joy or crawl under a rock. Just thinking about that terrible night was painful for me, but I could not just give up the chance to apologize to him a few thousand more times. I resolved to bury the lingering memory of seeing him unclothed and pleasing himself. By some miracle I had been given another chance to get close to him, and this time I was not going to let anything in the world spoil it.

A bored security guard met me at the end of the path that led to Dubwana's house. I had expected to be marched up to the door like a prisoner on his way to the gas chamber, but the guard simply checked my ID and reminded me to follow the rope and stay off the path itself, and then he went on his way. It felt strange to be walking under the lights beside the path rather than stealing through the shadowy fields, after having convinced myself that the opportunity would never arise for me.

The big door loomed like a mountain over me, dwarfing the tiny man-sized door that I had first tried on the night I sneaked in. There was a doorbell beside that smaller door, and I pushed it a little apprehensively. After a tense pause there was a buzz and a click, and with a deep breath I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Dubwana was sitting cross-legged on his sleeping mat, his notepad across his lap. A projector mounted high on one wall cast the image of a page from our physics textbook onto the wall opposite. As I closed the door behind me, Dubwana looked up and smiled and set his work aside. With the push of a button on an outside remote control, the physics text vanished. "I am glad you came," he said, his voice echoing thunderously in the enclosed space even though he was making an obvious effort to speak softly. "Please come closer."

I did, treading slowly and carefully in an effort to hide the shaking in my knees. Dubwana was wearing only a pair of shorts with the Exxon tiger smiling out at me from one side. His shirt lay balled on the floor nearby. I kept my eyes locked on his face and forced myself to smile. Don't blow it, I kept telling myself. Keep your eyes on his. No gawking. "Are you sure?" I said, only a little strained. "I would understand if you were still pissed at me."

"Maybe a little," he said, rubbing his chin with a finger. "But I got to thinking, if you were so desperate to see me that you felt you had to sneak around like a thief, then maybe I should be flattered instead of angry."

I laughed and made a little helpless gesture with my arms. "Well, what can I say." My stomach was doing its knotting-up thing again, and my tongue was sure to follow if I didn't get it under control. "Ah, is there a chair around?" I thought that if I could sit down it might help me to relax.

Dubwana's brow furrowed. "Oh!" he said, and he looked around the room. "you know, there isn't. I'm so sorry. I should have some of those brought in. I don't think about it, you see, since I don't use them."

"Oh. You mean never noticed before?" He shook his head in reply.

A sudden realization struck me. Struck me hard, in fact, making me draw in my breath. It couldn't be. "Dubwana," I said uncertainly. "Am I the first person who has visited you?"

For a few seconds he was silent. "Well, now that I think about it, yes." Something in his eyes told me that this was something he had thought about, and often.

"But that's...I mean, that's unbelievable. I would've thought that people would be lining up outside." I spread my arms. "I mean, it's not like you don't have room. You could fit a whole crowd in here."

He shook his head again and dropped his gaze. He looked pained. "I don't want a crowd. I want..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't think I can explain it."

"Well...you can try, maybe."

"No. It's all right. Let's talk about something else." He gave me a brave smile.

"OK," I said, "If you really want to. But if you can't talk to your stalker, who else can you talk to?"

He was taken aback. His head jerked back and he gave me a very odd look, and then he broke into a grin and loosed a roar of laughter. "That is hard to argue with, I suppose." He shrugged helplessly and looked around the room. "Let's see...maybe you can sit...." He folded down a corner of his mat and pressed his finger on it to see if it would make an adequate seat for a guest my size.

A frequent scene that had played out in my dreams came to mind. "How about this?" I offered, holding my hand out and pointing to my palm.

"Oh, no! Believe me, it makes people very uncomfortable to have me hold them."

I smirked at him. "You already held me once. It wasn't so bad then."

He looked skeptical. "Wasn't it?"

"Well, yes, it was," I admitted. "But the second time is bound to be easier."

That made him laugh again. "I suppose, if you insist." He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned forward, lowering his hand. My heart raced. As I had so many times in my dreams I climbed into his open palm and sat down. "Hold on," he said as his fingers curled and his palm cupped beneath me. Even though he was careful, I still felt my stomach being left behind as I was raised into the air.

Then Dubwana's face was looming closer, both yellow eyes fixed on me, so much friendlier than the last time I had seen them this close. "Are you still sure?"

"Oh yes!" I said too quickly, and then I gulped down my adrenaline and tried to look nonchalant. "Yes, I'm fine. Now you were saying?"

He nodded and then thought for a moment, staring past me at the wall. "I have never really had many friends," he said softly. "A few teachers that I was fond of, the people who cared for me. They were my family, though. There were some boys who slipped in to play with me when I was on the reserve. They taught me so much and I loved being with them. But that was in the days of Apartheid, and one day they were caught by two of the white overseers." He swallowed, and quickly changed the subject. "So other than a very few friends, the only two kinds of people in the world to me were my teachers, and the people who only wanted something from me.

"That's how my whole life started, actually. I come from Uganda originally. I do not remember much, but apparently I was supposed to be a weapon of some sort for them."

I nodded. "Yes. I read all about that."

He nodded, too. "I don't think I would have made a very good weapon. Actually, it's more that I can't bear thinking of what sort of weapon I might have made. I was just a kitten then, and I suppose they could have brought me up however they wanted to, but fortunately I had a very good upbringing in South Africa. When I think of what I might have been like if I had stayed in Uganda." He blew out his breath and looked down. "My size, you know, my strength -- I don't even like to think about it."

"I understand." I had started to pet softly at his thumb, and when I realized what I was doing I quickly drew my hand back. He did not seem to notice.

"But to get back to what I was saying," he continued, "Other than my teachers, the whole world seems as though they want something from me. I cannot say that I really have any friends, even here in this country. All the people who brought me here did it only because there was something in it for them from me. They get money, they get fame, they want to be seen with me in the newspaper. Here at school, for a few days people just wanted to stare at me, and then once the novelty wore off, they hardly pay attention. I do not do anything for them now, so they do not even talk to me. I suppose some are scared, but the rest are just bored. It is very depressing." He looked straight at me. "Then there is you. You're the only one who seemed to keep trying to get my attention, even when I wasn't the big news any more." Here he grinned broadly. If those arm-long fangs had belonged to anyone but him, I think I would have died of fright. He must have seen my face drain of color because he quickly closed his mouth again. "What I am trying to say is this. Yes, I was very angry at you for staring at me through the window, but afterward I could see how hurt you were, and I thought maybe I should not have been so quick to chase you away."

I was relaxing more and more into the flesh of Dubwana's palm, the resonance of his voice making it quiver beneath me, his melodious accent like a lullaby. "Well," I said casually, "I really wanted to make friends with you. I wanted to come and talk to you, but I didn't know there was a doorbell there and I thought you would be mad if I just walked in, so I thought I'd go up on the roof and see if there was..."

The words choked me. All at once I realized that I was lying. I hadn't been trying to get Dubwana's attention. I had been staring at his ass. I had been gawking at the bulge in his shorts. For years I had dreamed guilty little dreams of the furry giant taking me as some sort of living sex toy, of making impossible love to him, thrilling in my fantasies to his overwhelming size and power. There was no love -- it was all outrageous lust, a twisted desire for his gigantic flesh.

Remorse boiled up from deep within me, its weight making my shoulders sag. Every silent rebuke I had given to the people who treated Dubwana as a tourist attraction now came rushing back at me, impaling me on a thousand sharp barbs. Sad and lonely, Dubwana had reached out to me, and now even as he held me in his hand I could think only of using him to fulfill my desires.

He must have noticed my stricken face. "What's wrong?" he said, his ears falling back slightly.

I could not look at him. "I have to go," I croaked. "Please put me down."

His hand wavered, but did not descend. "What's wrong?"

"Dubwana..." I began, and then covered my eyes with my hand. I felt like filth. "I'm sorry. I lied to you. I've been following you around because...because I'm attracted to you. I've fantasized about you for years. When I saw you, I was...I just thought...oh, God. I'm sorry."

He was silent. I could feel his breath puffing warmly across me and knew that he had lifted me closer to his face. I put both hands over my face now, the bitter confession pouring itself out along with more than a few tears. "If I was anything close to a friend I would never have been staring in your window. I was getting off on seeing you naked, though, pure and simple. I'm not a friend, I'm a fucking pervert, and I feel like shit because of it."

The warmth of his breath felt closer now. "So why are you telling me this?"

"Because I had to. I...look, I should just go. I'm sorry. I just thought you should know the truth. I didn't want you to think you'd found a friend when all you had was some lowlife lusting after you. I couldn't live with that."

My hands were growing wetter. Finally I worked up the courage to take them away from my eyes. Dubwana's chin was resting on the heel of the hand that held me, his nose almost touching my body. I was astonished to see a bemused smile on his lips. "So at least you are honest."

I looked away. "I won't blame you for hating me."

"Oh, but I don't."

"Why not, after what I just told you?"

He hummed and blew a long breath over me through his nostrils. "Because you did tell me. I don't think you would have if you were as much of a lowlife as you say you are."

"It must bother you, though."

"Bother? Hmm. I suppose it confuses me more than anything. Nobody has ever been attracted to me before, at least not that I know of. I find it a little flattering."

That threw me. A small, warm spark started to twinkle in my chest. "I...you aren't mad?"

"Mad? No. As I said, it is flattering to know that you find me attractive. But it is very comforting to know that you are thoughtful enough of my feelings to tell me the truth, even though it was obviously very painful for you. I think that I would be very pleased to have you for a friend."

"Really?"

He smiled, and lifted his head enough so that he could nod. "Really."

I felt a few more tears roll down my cheeks, and quickly swiped them away with the back of my hand. I managed to smile back at him. "OK," was all I could say.

Dubwana leaned back on his other hand and raised me higher so he could gaze at me levelly. "So, now that we are friends, what shall we talk about?"

We found no end of things to discuss. He told me about Africa, of his barely-remembered life in the Ugandan military before being "liberated," as he put it, to South Africa. I told him where I had come from and some of the things I had done, all of which sounded unbearably dull to me but seemed to fascinate Dubwana, who listened eagerly to my every word. After a while I no longer noticed the tremendous size difference between us. I felt comfortable and secure in his palm, as if somehow I belonged there. "Your hand is warm," I said at one point, patting the base of one finger. "I could stay here all night."

He turned his head and loosed a cavernous yawn, big teeth gleaming. "That is nice. But my arm is getting very tired." I felt his hand moving under me, like a train starting to roll. He held his hand carefully level and let his huge torso settle back until he was lying flat on the mat. The hand holding me slowly descended like an elevator and tilted, letting me slide off onto his chest. "Better," he said, the landscape rumbling heavily under my feet.

I sat down quickly, only because my legs wouldn't hold me up any more. I was surrounded by a lush field of white fur, his chest muscles rising in powerful curves on either side of me, and ahead his feline face hovering, propped up by two hands behind his head. My insides fluttered. When I spoke my voice sounded like an odd croak. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you," he said simply. His chest rose softly as he inhaled, my body rising with it, and then sinking gradually back down again. I could feel the throb of his heart beneath me; it felt exactly like the shock of his footsteps when he walked. I fidgeted, but Dubwana seemed unconcerned. It was obvious, after all, that he was more than capable of fending me off if necessary.

He yawned again, and this time I could see all the way down into his throat. Then he turned and stared idly at the projector. "Physics," he boomed. "It is getting very tedious."

"Tell me about it. I don't think I've taken a single note since the class started." Warmth rose up from the sea of fur. The thud of his heartbeat beneath me and the gentle wave motion of his breathing were mesmerizing. My own voice sounded hollow and far away as I prattled on, enjoying the feeling of his fur sliding through my fingers as I stroked it.

Stroked? I realized with a start what I was doing and quickly tucked my hands into my lap, my face burning with embarrassment. Dubwana's whiskers flexed forward curiously. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry!" I was saying that a lot that evening. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Do what?"

"Do...that. You know, petting you like that. It's rude and degrading."

He chuckled, jostling me on his chest so that I had to clutch his fur to keep from being rolled around. "I think it is a natural impulse to want to touch a creature that is alien to us but still fascinates us. I do not find it degrading."

"Oh," I said, still embarrassed. I put an uncertain hand down on the soft landscape beside me. "Still, I wouldn't want you to think --"

"I won't. I liked how it felt, actually."

I swallowed, my mouth uncomfortably dry. I wondered if he could feel how rapidly my heart was beating, even as I could feel his own slow and ponderous rhythm. Encouraged by his warm smile, I began to comb my fingers through the thick fur, making furrows that I then smoothed down with my palm. "Your fur is wonderful," was all I could think to say.

"Thank you." He glanced back toward the projector. "You have not taken any notes, you say?"

"Not a one."

"Then how do you expect to pass the course?"

I shrugged. "I thought I could borrow yours."

Again I had to hold on while he chuckled. "So now the truth comes out," he said playfully. "You just want my physics notes." He yawned again, wider than ever, and closed his eyes. "Of course, you can come and see them any time."

I nodded, and nothing more was said. I continued to sweep my hand along his chest in long strokes, and watched the thick fur ripple in a wave beneath it. After a while one of his arms rose ponderously and passed over my head, his hand coming to rest flat behind me. I felt his breathing growing steadily deeper, the pause between them lengthening. Soon his whiskers began to twitch, and a barely audible rumbling accompanied every breath.

For a long time I just sat and watched his sleeping face. Other than the slow rise and fall of his breath, his body did not move. At last I gathered my legs under me, turned, and stood up. At my feet was Dubwana's hand. Beyond that lay the flat, furry plane of his belly, and beyond that the cotton expanse of his shorts, with a long, narrow mound rising from its center. I knew that shape well from my dreams. In my mind's eye I could see myself pressed tightly against it, hugging it close to my body like a lover.

And I contented myself with the image. "I trust you," he had said.

Dubwana's hand lay motionless before me. Sitting down, I carefully slid my legs beneath the curve of his fingers. Dubwana made a soft muttering sound and his hand moved up and covered me, its weight pressing me warmly into his chest. It was not a lover's embrace; it was more the touch of one who had searched for something for a long time, and having found it held it close, reassuring himself every moment that it had not gone away.

I knew just how he felt. The simple warmth of that touch meant more to me than all the dreams put together.

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