Mike raced toward her, ever cognizant that at any moment, she could move away. But he had to try. Happily, whatever paper she was reading had her attention; not that she could even see Mike at his size, but this way she at least stood still for a few minutes, just enough time to reach the hill-sized feet that supported the mountain-sized woman. The foothills, he thought, bitterly.
He covered the last hundred feet or so nervously, aware that even a tiny side-step could end his life. Indeed, her right foot, which was off further in the distance, was tapping out a steady, rhythmic earthquake; happily, the left foot was rock-solid.
He approached the pinky toe, amazed at how even that dwarfed him. Wasting no time, he began to pull himself up the series of ridges, hoping to make it to the tennis-court-sized toenail above.
He did not make it.
The goddess started to move, and the world was suddenly flashing by at ridiculous speed. He dug his fingernails into a crevasse in the mega-toe, hoping against hope that he had a strong enough grip to make it all the way to her bedroom. If he could just make it there, he had some hope of...well, some hope.