Há um conto de James Tiptree Jr. Mama Venha para casa, que tem mulheres gigantes:
There they stood on their ramp, three magnificent earth-type young females in space-opera uniforms.
Helmets on the backs of their heads and double-curve grins on their long mouths. The leader was older and had more glitter on her crest. She swung back her droopy wing of hair, breathed twice, wrinkled her nose and paced down the ramp to meet the U.N. President.
Then we got it. The U.N. President that year was an Ethiopian about six feet five. The top of his head came just to the buckle on her crossbelt.
I guess the world wide hush quivered—it certainly did in George’s projection room.
“About eight-foot-three for the captain,” I said.
Os homens das mulheres alienígenas são cidadãos de segunda classe, embora não sejam clones. Um dos personagens principais (masculinos) humanos é estuprado por algumas das mulheres e escapa vivo, apenas por pouco.