WAIT WHAT?

Yes, I am taking commissions and requests.

I am open to write next to anything size-fetish related, with the exception of items I deem inappropriate or imprudent. 

Many aspects of the gts realm i am unfamiliar with (giant males, bbw, furry, etc), but I am open to write them for you if you'd like. 

 

HOW LONG IT TAKES

I ask anywhere from 1-2 weeks to fulfill a commission or request. I have my own life/personal business that takes precedent, so I want to make it clear upfront that I take a little more time than usual. But as a result...

 

HOW MUCH IT COSTS

...as a result, I am pretty cheap. This is more a fun little thing for me to do and keep creative than a money-making venture, so I believe I offer reasonable prices.

I ask for 2 bucks per 1000 words. (roughly 2.4 pages in how i write)

However, I'm not going to ask for money- I cant be assed to set up a paypal and I'd rather not to be honest.

Instead, I will whore myself out for Steam games. There's a wealth of cheap 10-15 dollar games I have in my wishlist, as well as some higher priced ones. 

5k words would get me Prince of Persia or Hotline Miami, whereas 30k beast would be a Dark Souls III or Doom.

My user ID is 'yavamosportuputahamburgesa.' It's Spanish for 'Alright already, let's go get your fucking hamburger.' 

steamcommunity.com/id/Yavamosportuputahamburgesa 

If you truly detest gaming and don't want to contribute to my playing them, we can definitely work something out. 

 

HOW TO CONTACT

Message me at versusterminus7commissions@gmail.com. The PM system on this website is super unreliable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The site tells me i need to have at least 500 words in this chapter, so here's the complete text of Plato's Apology, as given in the indispensible Massachusett Institute of Technology's online Internet Classics Archive. http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/apology.html

How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was - such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite amazed me; - I mean when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let yourselves be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than a word, of truth; but you shall hear from me the whole truth: not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No indeed! but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the moment; for I am certain that this is right, and that at my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator - let no one expect this of me. And I must beg of you to grant me one favor, which is this - If you hear me using the same words in my defence which I have been in the habit of using, and whichmost of you may have heard in the agora, and at the tables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask you not to be surprised at this, and not to interrupt me. For I am more than seventy years of age, and this is the first time that I have ever appeared in a court of law, and I am quite a stranger to the ways of the place; and therefore I would have you regardme as if I were really a stranger, whom you would excuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashion of his country; - that I think is not an unfair request. Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good; but think only of the justice of my cause, and give heed to that: let the judge decide justly and the speaker speak truly. 

And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first accusers, and then I will go to the later ones. For I have had many accusers, who accused me of old, and their false charges have continued during many years; and I am more afraid of them than of Anytus and his associates, who are dangerous, too, in their own way. But far more dangerous are these, who began when you were children, and took possession of your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the earth beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. These are the accusers whom I dread; for they are the circulators of this rumor, and their hearers are too apt to fancy that speculators of this sort do not believe in the gods. And they are many, and their charges against me are of ancient date, and they made them in days when you were impressible - in childhood, or perhaps in youth - and the cause when heard went by default, for there was none to answer. And, hardest of all, their names I do not know and cannot tell; unless in the chance of a comic poet. But the main body of these slanderers who from envy and malice have wrought upon you - and there are some of them who are convinced themselves, and impart their convictions to others - all these, I say, are most difficult to deal with; for I cannot have them up here, and examine them, and therefore I must simply fight with shadows in my own defence, and examine when there is no one who answers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was saying, that my opponents are of two kinds - one recent, the other ancient; and I hope that you will see the propriety of my answering the latter first, for these accusations you heard long before the others, and much oftener. 

Well, then, I will make my defence, and I will endeavor in the short time which is allowed to do away with this evil opinion of me which you have held for such a long time; and I hope I may succeed, if this be well for you and me, and that my words may find favor with you. But I know that to accomplish this is not easy - I quite see the nature of the task. Let the event be as God wills: in obedience to the law I make my defence. 

I will begin at the beginning, and ask what the accusation is which has given rise to this slander of me, and which has encouraged Meletus to proceed against me. What do the slanderers say? They shall be my prosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit. "Socrates is an evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into things under the earth and in heaven,and he makes the worse appear the better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." That is the nature of the accusation, and that is what you have seen yourselves in the comedy of Aristophanes; who has introduced a man whom he calls Socrates, going about and saying that he can walk in the air, and talking a deal of nonsense concerning matters of which I do not pretend to know either much or little - not that I mean to say anything disparaging of anyone who is a student of natural philosophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus could lay that to my charge. But the simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing to do with these studies. Very many of those here present are witnesses to the truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who have heard me, and tell your neighbors whether any of you have ever known me hold forth in few words or in many upon matters of this sort. ... You hear their answer. And from what they say of this you will be able to judge of the truth of the rest. 

As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and take money; that is no more true than the other. Although, if a man is able to teach, I honor him for being paid. There is Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis, who go the round of the cities, and are able to persuade the young men to leave their own citizens, by whom they might be taught for nothing, and come to them, whom they not only pay, but are thankful if they may be allowed to pay them. There is actually a Parian philosopher residing in Athens, of whom I have heard; and I came to hear of him in this way: - I met a man who has spent a world of money on the Sophists, Callias the son of Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, I asked him: "Callias," I said, "if your two sons were foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding someone to put over them; we should hire a trainer of horses or a farmer probably who would improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence; but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of placing over them? Is there anyone who understands human and political virtue? You must have thought about this as you have sons; is there anyone?" "There is," he said. "Who is he?" said I, "and of what country? and what does he charge?" "Evenus the Parian," he replied; "he is the man, and his charge is five minae." Happy is Evenus, I said to myself, if he really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a modest charge. Had I the same, I should have been very proud and conceited; but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind. 

I dare say, Athenians, that someone among you will reply, "Why is this, Socrates, and what is the origin of these accusations of you: for there must have been something strange which you have been doing? All this great fame and talk about you would never have arisen if you had been like other men: tell us, then, why this is, as we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of "wise," and of this evil fame. Please to attend then. And although some of you may think I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such wisdom as is attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must begyou not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom - whether I have any, and of what sort - and that witness shall be the god of Delphi. You must have known Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in the exile of the people, and returned with you. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether - as I was saying, I must beg you not to interrupt - he asked the oracle to tell him whether there was anyone wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself, but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of this story. 

Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have such an evil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what is the interpretation of this riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom, small or great. What can he mean when he says that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a god and cannot lie; that would be against his nature. After a long consideration, I at last thought of a method of trying the question. I reflected that if I could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in my hand. I should say to him, "Here is a man who is wiser than I am; but you said that I was the wisest." Accordingly I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed to him - his name I need not mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination - and the result was as follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried to explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was not really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is - for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the advantage of him. Then I went to another, who had still higher philosophical pretensions, and my conclusion was exactly the same. I made another enemy of him, and of many others besides him. 

After this I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid upon me - the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I said to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog Iswear! - for I must tell you the truth - the result of my mission was just this: I found that the men most in repute were all but the most foolish; and that some inferior men were really wiser and better. I will tell you the tale of my wanderings and of the "Herculean" labors, as I may call them, which I endured only to find at last the oracle irrefutable. When I left the politicians, I went to the poets; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you will be detected; now you will find out that you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the meaning of them - thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am almost ashamed to speak of this, but still I must say that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their poetry than they did themselves. That showed me in an instant that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. And the poets appeared to me to be much in the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to the politicians. 

At last I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and in this I was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the poets; because they were good workmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their wisdom - therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and the oracle that I was better off as I was. 

This investigation has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most dangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies, and I am called wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of Athens, that God only is wise; and in this oracle he means to say that the wisdom of men is little or nothing; he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name as an illustration, as if he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go my way, obedient to the god, and make inquisition into the wisdom of anyone, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise; and ifhe is not wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise; and this occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god. 

There is another thing: - young men of the richer classes, who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord; they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they often imitate me, and examine others themselves; there are plenty of persons, as they soon enough discover, who think that they know something, but really know little or nothing: and then those who are examined by them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me: This confounded Socrates, they say; this villainous misleader of youth! - and then if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he practise or teach? they do not know, and cannot tell; but in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers about teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, and having no gods, and making the worse appear the better cause; for they do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected - which is the truth: and as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, and are all in battle array and have persuasive tongues, they have filled your ears with their loud and inveterate calumnies. And this is the reason why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, have set upon me; Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets; Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said at the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of this mass of calumny all in a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And yet I know that this plainness of speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth? - this is the occasion and reason of their slander of me, as you will find out either in this or in any future inquiry. 

I have said enough in my defence against the first class of my accusers; I turn to the second class, who are headed by Meletus, that good and patriotic man, as he calls himself. And now I will try to defend myself against them: these new accusers must also have their affidavit read. What do they say? Something of this sort: - That Socrates is a doer of evil, and corrupter of the youth, and he does not believe in the gods of the state, and has other new divinities of his own. That is the sort of charge; and now let us examine the particular counts. He says that I am a doer of evil, who corrupt the youth; but I say, O men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, and the evil is that he makes a joke of a serious matter, and is too ready at bringing other men to trial from a pretended zeal and interest about matters in which he really never had the smallest interest. And the truth of this I will endeavor to prove. 

Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. You think a great deal about the improvement of youth? 

Yes, I do. 

Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as you have taken the pains to discover their corrupter, and are citing and accusing me before them. Speak, then, and tell the judges who their improver is. Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to say. But is not this rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of what I was saying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak up, friend, and tell us who their improver is. 

The laws. 

But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the person is, who, in the first place, knows the laws. 

The judges, Socrates, who are present in court. 

What do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and improve youth? 

Certainly they are. 

What, all of them, or some only and not others? 

All of them. 

By the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty of improvers, then. And what do you say of the audience, - do they improve them? 

Yes, they do. 

And the senators? 

Yes, the senators improve them. 

But perhaps the members of the citizen assembly corrupt them? - or do they too improve them? 

They improve them. 

Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the exception of myself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm? 

That is what I stoutly affirm. 

I am very unfortunate if that is true. But suppose I ask you a question: Would you say that this also holds true in the case of horses? Does one man do them harm and all the world good? Is not the exact opposite of this true? One man is able to do them good, or at least not many; - the trainer of horses, that is to say, does them good, and others who have to do with them rather injure them? Is not that true, Meletus, of horses, or any other animals? Yes, certainly. Whether you and Anytus say yes or no, that is no matter. Happy indeed would be the condition of youth if they had one corrupter only, and all the rest of the world were their improvers. And you, Meletus, have sufficiently shown that you never had a thought about the young: your carelessness is seen in your not caring about matters spoken of in this very indictment. 

And now, Meletus, I must ask you another question: Which is better, to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? Answer, friend, I say; for that is a question which may be easily answered. Do not the good do their neighbors good, and the bad do them evil? 

Certainly. 

And is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by those who live with him? Answer, my good friend; the law requires you to answer - does anyone like to be injured? 

Certainly not. 

And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth, do you allege that I corrupt them intentionally or unintentionally? 

Intentionally, I say. 

But you have just admitted that the good do their neighbors good, and the evil do them evil. Now is that a truth which your superior wisdom has recognized thus early in life, and am I, at my age, in such darkness and ignorance as not to know that if a man with whom I have to live is corrupted by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him, and yet I corrupt him, and intentionally, too; - that is what you are saying, and of that you will never persuade me or any other human being. But either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt them unintentionally, so that on either view of the case you lie. If my offence is unintentional, the law has no cognizance of unintentional offences: you ought to have taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for if I had been better advised, I should have left off doing what I only did unintentionally - no doubt I should; whereas you hated to converse with me or teach me, but you indicted me in this court, which is a place not of instruction, but of punishment. 

I have shown, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has no care at all, great or small, about the matter. But still I should like to know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt the young. I suppose you mean, as I infer from your indictment, that I teach them not to acknowledge the gods which the state acknowledges, but some other new divinities or spiritualagencies in their stead. These are the lessons which corrupt the youth, as you say. 

Yes, that I say emphatically. 

Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the court, in somewhat plainer terms, what you mean! for I do not as yet understand whether you affirm that I teach others to acknowledge some gods, and therefore do believe in gods and am not an entire atheist - this you do not lay to my charge; but only that they are not the same gods which the city recognizes - the charge is that they are different gods. Or, do you mean to say that I am an atheist simply, and a teacher of atheism? 

I mean the latter - that you are a complete atheist. 

That is an extraordinary statement, Meletus. Why do you say that? Do you mean that I do not believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, which is the common creed of all men? 

I assure you, judges, that he does not believe in them; for he says that the sun is stone, and the moon earth. 

Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras; and you have but a bad opinion of the judges, if you fancy them ignorant to such a degree as not to know that those doctrines are found in the books of Anaxagoras the Clazomenian, who is full of them. And these are the doctrines which the youth are said to learn of Socrates, when there are not unfrequently exhibitions of them at the theatre (price of admission one drachma at the most); and they might cheaply purchase them, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to father such eccentricities. And so, Meletus, you really think that I do not believe in any god? 

I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all. 

You are a liar, Meletus, not believed even by yourself. For I cannot help thinking, O men of Athens, that Meletus is reckless and impudent, and that he has written this indictment in a spirit of mere wantonness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking to try me? He said to himself: - I shall see whether this wise Socrates will discover my ingenious contradiction, or whether I shall be able to deceive him and the rest of them. For he certainly does appear to me to contradict himself in the indictment as much as if he said that Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet of believing in them - but this surely is a piece of fun. 

I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examining what I conceive to be his inconsistency; and do you, Meletus, answer. And I must remind you that you are not to interrupt me if I speak in my accustomed manner. 

Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human things, and not of human beings? ... I wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and not be always trying to get up an interruption. Did ever any man believe in horsemanship, and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in flute-players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to the court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. There is no man who ever did. But now please to answer the next question: Can a man believe in spiritual and divine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods? 

He cannot. 

I am glad that I have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the court; nevertheless you swear in the indictment that I teach and believe in divine or spiritual agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any rate, I believe in spiritual agencies, as you say and swear in the affidavit; but if I believe in divine beings, I must believe in spirits or demigods; - is not that true? Yes, that is true, for I may assume that your silence gives assent to that. Now what are spirits or demigods? are they not either gods or the sons of gods? Is that true? 

Yes, that is true. 

But this is just the ingenious riddle of which I was speaking: the demigods or spirits are gods, and you say first that I don't believe in gods, and then again that I do believe in gods; that is, if I believe in demigods. For if the demigods are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the Nymphs or by any other mothers, as is thought, that, as all men will allow, necessarily implies the existence of their parents. You might as well affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of horses and asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have been intended by you as a trial of me. You have put this into the indictment because you had nothing real of which to accuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding will ever be convinced by you that the same man can believe in divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods and heroes. 

I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate defence is unnecessary; but as I was saying before, I certainly have many enemies, and this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed; of that I am certain; - not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the world, which has been the death of many good men, and will probablybe the death of many more; there is no danger of my being the last of them. 

Someone will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which is likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly answer: There you are mistaken: a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong - acting the part of a goodman or of a bad. Whereas, according to your view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much, and the son of Thetis above all, who altogether despised danger in comparison with disgrace; and when his goddess mother said to him, in his eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die himself - "Fate," as she said, "waits upon you next after Hector"; he, hearing this, utterly despised danger and death, and instead of fearing them, feared rather to live in dishonor, and not to avenge his friend. "Let me die next," he replies, "and be avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by the beaked ships, a scorn and a burden of the earth." Had Achilles any thought of death anddanger? For wherever a man's place is, whether the place which he has chosen or that in which he has been placed by a commander, there he ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should not think of death or of anything, but of disgrace. And this, O men of Athens, is a true saying. 

Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I was ordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea and Amphipolis and Delium, remained where they placed me, like any other man, facing death; if, I say, now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and other men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear; that would indeed be strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death: then I should be fancying that I was wise when I was not wise. For this fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom,and not real wisdom, being the appearance of knowing the unknown; since no one knows whether death, which they in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is there not here conceit of knowledge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance? And this is the point in which, as I think, I am superior to men in general, and in which I might perhaps fancy myself wiser than other men, - that whereas I know but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and dishonorable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And therefore if you let me go now, and reject the counsels of Anytus, who said that if I were not put to death I ought not to have been prosecuted, and that if I escape now, your sons will all be utterly ruined by listening to my words - if you say to me, Socrates, this time we will not mind Anytus, and will let you off, but upon one condition, that are to inquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if you are caught doing this again you shall die; - if this was the condition on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy, exhorting anyone whom I meet after my manner, and convincing him, saying: O my friend, why do you who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all? Are you not ashamed of this? And if the person with whom I am arguing says: Yes, but I do care; I do not depart or let him go at once; I interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less. And this I should say to everyone whom I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. For this is the command of God, as I would have you know; and I believe that to this day no greater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God. For I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons and your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come money and every other good of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous indeed. But if anyone says that this is not my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and either acquit me or not; but whatever you do, know that I shall never alter my ways, not even if I have to die many times. 

Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an agreement between us that you should hear me out. And I think that what I am going to say will do you good: for I have something more to say, at which you may be inclined to cry out; but I beg that you will not do this. I would have you know that, if you kill such a one as I am, you will injure yourselvesmore than you will injure me. Meletus and Anytus will not injure me: they cannot; for it is not in the nature of things that a bad man should injure a better than himself. I do not deny that he may, perhaps, kill him, or drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and he may imagine, and others may imagine, that he is doing him a great injury: but in that I do not agree with him; for the evil of doing as Anytus is doing - of unjustly taking away another man's life - is greater far. And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think, but for yours, that you may not sin against the God, or lightly reject his boon by condemning me. For if you kill me you will not easily find another like me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to the state by the God; and the state is like a great and noble steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I am that gadfly which God has given the state and all day long and in all places am always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and reproaching you. And as you will not easily find another like me, I would advise you to spare me. I dare say that you may feel irritated at being suddenly awakened when you are caught napping; and you may think that if you were to strike me dead, as Anytus advises, which you easily might, then you would sleep on for the remainder of your lives, unless God in his care of you gives you another gadfly. And that I am given to you by God is proved by this: - that if I had been like other men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns, or patiently seen the neglect of them during all these years, and have been doing yours, coming to you individually, like a father or elder brother, exhorting you to regard virtue; this I say, would not be like human nature. And had I gained anything, or if my exhortations had been paid, there would have been some sense in that: but now, as you will perceive, not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I have ever exacted or sought pay of anyone; they have no witness of that. And I have a witness of the truth of what I say; my poverty is a sufficient witness. 

Someone may wonder why I go about in private, giving advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public and advise the state. I will tell you the reason of this. You have often heard me speak of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign I have had ever since I was a child. The sign is a voice which comes to me and always forbids me to do something which I am going to do, but never commands me to do anything, and this is what stands in the way of my being a politician. And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, that if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago and done no good either to you or to myself. And don't be offended at my telling you the truth: for the truth is that no man who goes to war with you or any other multitude, honestly struggling against the commission of unrighteousness and wrong in the state, will save his life; he who will really fight for the right, if he would live even for a little while, must have a private station and not a public one. 

I can give you as proofs of this, not words only, but deeds, which you value more than words. Let me tell you a passage of my own life, which will prove to you that I should never have yielded to injustice from any fear of death, and that if I had not yielded I should have died at once. I will tell you a story - tasteless, perhaps, and commonplace, but nevertheless true. The only office of state which I ever held, O men of Athens, was that of senator; the tribe Antiochis, which is my tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken up the bodies of the slain after the battle of Arginusae; and you proposed to try them all together, which was illegal, as you all thought afterwards; but at the time I was the only one of the Prytanes who was opposed to the illegality, and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators threatened to impeach and arrest me, and have me taken away, and you called and shouted, I made up my mind that I would run the risk, having law and justice with me, rather than take part in your injustice because I feared imprisonment and death. This happened in the days of the democracy. But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was in power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to execute him. This was a specimen of the sort of commands which they were always giving with the view of implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and then I showed, not in words only, but in deed, that, if I may be allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death, and that my only fear was the fear of doing an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that oppressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong; and when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For which I might have lost my life, had not the power of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And to this many will witness. 

Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I had led a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always supported the right and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing? No, indeed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other. But I have been always the same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I yielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously termed my disciples or to any other. For the truth is that I have no regular disciples: but if anyone likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether he be young or old, he may freely come. Nor do I converse with those who pay only, and not with those who do not pay; but anyone, whether he be rich or poor, may ask and answer me and listen to my words; and whether he turns out to be a bad man or a good one, that cannot be justly laid to my charge, as I never taught him anything. And if anyone says that he has ever learned or heard anything from me in private which all the world has not heard, I should like you to know that he is speaking an untruth. 

But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually conversing with you? I have told you already, Athenians, the whole truth about this: they like to hear the cross-examination of the pretenders to wisdom; there is amusement in this. And this is a duty which the God has imposed upon me, as I am assured by oracles, visions, and in every sort of way in which the will of divine power was ever signified to anyone. This is true, O Athenians; or, if not true, would be soon refuted. For if I am really corrupting the youth, and have corrupted some of them already, those of them who have grown up and have become sensible that I gave them bad advice in the days of their youth should come forward as accusers and take their revenge;and if they do not like to come themselves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen, should say what evil their families suffered at my hands. Now is their time. Many of them I see in the court. There is Crito, who is of the same age and of the same deme with myself; and there is Critobulus his son, whom I also see. Then again there is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father of Aeschines - he is present; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of Epignes; and there are the brothers of several who have associated with me. There is Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and the brother of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he, at any rate, will not seek to stop him); and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus, who had a brother Theages; and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato is present; and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom I also see. I might mention a great many others, any of whom Meletus should have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech; and let him still produce them, if he has forgotten - I will make way for him. And let him say, if he has any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay, Athenians, the very opposite is the truth. For all these are ready to witness on behalf of the corrupter, of the destroyer of their kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me; not the corrupted youth only - there might have been a motive for that - but theiruncorrupted elder relatives. Why should they too support me with their testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and justice, and because they know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying. 

Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is nearly all the defence which I have to offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be someone who is offended at me, when he calls to mind how he himself, on a similar or even a less serious occasion, had recourse to prayers and supplications with many tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was a moving spectacle, together with a posse of his relations and friends; whereas I, who am probably in danger of my life, will do none of these things. Perhaps this may come into his mind, and he may be set against me, and vote in anger because he is displeased at this. Now if there be such a person among you, which I am far from affirming, I may fairly reply to him: My friend, I am a man, and like other men, a creature of flesh and blood, and not of wood or stone, as Homer says; and I have a family, yes, and sons. O Athenians, three in number, one of whom is growing up, and the two others are still young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not from any self-will or disregard of you. Whether I am or am not afraid of death is another question, of which I will not now speak. But my reason simply is that I feel such conduct to be discreditable to myself, and you, and the whole state. One who has reached my years, and who has a name for wisdom, whether deserved or not, ought not to debase himself. At any rate, the world has decided that Socrates is in some way superior to other men. And if those among you who are said to be superior in wisdom and courage, and any other virtue, demean themselves in this way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they have been condemned, behaving in the strangest manner: they seemed to fancy that they were going to suffersomething dreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if you only allowed them to live; and I think that they were a dishonor to the state, and that any stranger coming in would say of them that the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves give honor and command, are no better than women. And I say that these things ought not to be done by those of us who are of reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to permit them; you ought rather to show that you are more inclined to condemn, not the man who is quiet, but the man who gets up a doleful scene, and makes the city ridiculous. 

But, setting aside the question of dishonor, there seems to be something wrong in petitioning a judge, and thus procuring an acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is, not to make a present of justice, but to give judgment; and he has sworn that he will judge according to the laws, and not according to his own good pleasure; and neither he nor we should get into the habit of perjuring ourselves - there can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to do what I consider dishonorable and impious and wrong, especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on the indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion and entreaty, I could overpower your oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods, and convict myself, in my own defence, of not believing in them. But that is not the case; for I do believe that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my cause, to be determined by you as is best for you and me. 


The jury finds Socrates guilty. 

Socrates' Proposal for his Sentence 

There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the votes are so nearly equal; for I had thought that the majority against me would have been far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say that I have escaped Meletus. And I may say more; for without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a fifth part of the votes, as the law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae, as is evident. 

And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my part, O men of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. And what is that which I ought to pay or to receive? What shall be done to the man who has never had the wit to be idle during his whole life; but has been careless of what the many care about - wealth, and family interests, and military offices, and speaking in the assembly, and magistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was really too honest a man to follow in this way and live, I did not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but where I could do the greatest good privately to everyone of you, thither I went, and sought to persuade every man among you that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his private interests, and look to the state before he looks to the interests of the state; and that this should be the order which he observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such a one? Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if he has his reward; and the good should be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward suitable to a poor man who is your benefactor, who desires leisure that he may instruct you? There can be no more fitting reward than maintenance in the Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than the citizen who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, whether the chariots were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in want, and he has enough; and he only gives you the appearance of happiness, and I give you the reality. And if I am to estimate the penalty justly, I say that maintenance in the Prytaneum is the just return. 

Perhaps you may think that I am braving you in saying this, as in what I said before about the tears and prayers. But that is not the case. I speak rather because I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged anyone, although I cannot convince you of that - for we have had a short conversation only; but if there were a law at Athens, such as there is in other cities, that a capital cause should not be decided in one day, then I believe that I should have convinced you; but now the time is too short. I cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I never wronged another, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve any evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I? Because I am afraid of the penalty of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether death is a good or an evil, why should I propose a penalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be the slave of the magistrates of the year - of the Eleven? Or shall the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to lie in prison, for money I have none, and I cannot pay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life if I were to consider that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and have found them so grievous and odious that you would fain have done with them, others are likely to endure me. No, indeed, men of Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, living in ever-changing exile, and always being driven out! For I am quite sure that into whatever place I go, as here so also there, the young men will come to me; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their desire: and if I let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their sakes. 

Someone will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then you may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I have great difficulty in making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that this would be a disobedience to a divine command, and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious; and if I say again that the greatest good of man is daily to converse about virtue, and all that concerning which you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life which is unexamined is not worth living - that you are still less likely to believe. And yet what I say is true, although a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. Moreover, I am not accustomed to think that I deserve any punishment. Had I money I might have proposed to give you what I had, and have been none the worse. But you see that I have none, and can only ask you to proportion the fine to my means. However, I think that I could afford a minae, and therefore I propose that penalty; Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my friendshere, bid me say thirty minae, and they will be the sureties. Well then, say thirty minae, let that be the penalty; for that they will be ample security to you. 


The jury condemns Socrates to death. 

Socrates' Comments on his Sentence 

Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise even although I am not wise when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You think that I was convicted through deficiency of words - I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not of words - certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour of danger: nor do I now repent of the manner of my defence, and I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty of death, and they, too, go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my award - let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be regarded as fated, - and I think that they are well. 

And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted to escapethe accuser, and not to give an account of your lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom hitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more severe with you, and you will be more offended at them. For if you think that by killing men you can avoidthe accuser censuring your lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or honorable; the easiest and noblest way is not to be crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before my departure, to the judges who have condemned me. 

Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then awhile, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which has happened to me. O my judges - for you I may truly call judges - I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about anything; and now as you see there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house and going out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in the middle of a speech; but now in nothing I either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good. 

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things: - either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king, will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless others, men and women too! What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them and asking them questions! For in that world they do not put a man to death for this; certainly not. For besides being happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said is true. 

Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth - that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reasonalso, I am not angry with my accusers, or my condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them. 

Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to punish them; and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they are really nothing, - then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caringabout that for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And if you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands. 

The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways - I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows. 

***It’s A Date Then***

 

"Wait, wait! Hold on!"

 

Damien had only just strapped himself into the cart seat when the cry caused the attendant next to him, a Beta like himself, to look up.

 

"Can I still get on? Is there a seat left?" The voice continued. It sounded, based on the slight pitch down, like an Alpha. A girl Alpha. There was a certain tone of urgency present in her voice, and that made Damien a little nervous- most Alphas were nice if you got to know them- just like Betas, only a little over twice the regular height. Still, their height gave them something of a... Social advantage when it came to getting what they wanted. At just under six feet, Damien was a certified Beta and avoided Alphas whenever he could- bad memories from high school. 

 

Still, despite himself, it was with not only a little bit of schaudenfruede that Damien realized he'd taken the last seat on this roller coaster. He'd practically sprinted to get here before sunset- today was the last day before they closed this coaster for a month-long overhaul and safety check. It was his first ride of the day, and he promised himself that nothing would get in the way of that. He kept his promises, even on the last of the seats of the last of the day's rides.

 

"Sorry ma'am, rides full. You'll have to wait until next month. Repairs start tonight and it will take a long time. Sorry."

 

Damien heard what sounded like a huff, and he found himself thinking of pufferfish. He glanced to his left and saw an older Alpha woman look down at him and roll her eyes, apparently enjoying the schaudenfruede as well. He felt a little bit of relief- the Beta attendant was with him on this one, and so was the older Alpha lady. His nervousness melted away. 

 

"Oh, come on," the huffing voice continued, almost reaching a nasally tone, "there's got to be one left. See, look there, in the back!"

 

He heard a gate open and footsteps coming toward his cart. The Beta attendant shuffled nervously towards the sound. 

 

"Ma'am, uh, ma'am. You can't be back here, ma'am..."

 

"I know, I know," the voice grew louder, "but look. There's one empty seat!" 

 

Damien began to grow nervous once again, this time at a very uncomfortable pace- the girl had come in anyway! What's more, she'd probably force him off. He shifted again, now suddenly uncomfortable in his restraints, trying desperately to undo the buckle that held him securely in place. 

 

"Um," he mumbled involuntarily, his fingers not quite dexterous enough.

 

Curse these engineering fingers, he lamented. He could safely transport minute drops of chemicals from one tray to another, and never miss the aqueous waste bucket, but why, why oh god, why could he not do this?

 

A shadow fell on him, followed by the soft smell of a fragrant and fruity perfume.

 

"See, look! This one's empt- oh." 

 

Damien turned his head, as his eyes went up and up and up to meet the  face of miss Oh. There she stood, looking down and her lips in a pout, the sudden realization that yes, in fact, the attendant hadn't been lying about there being no seats left available.

 

The second thing he notice about her was her hair, a vivid and stark red, and how it draped over her face. It wasn't quite long enough to drape completely, but not too short that it looked prudish or pixie. Her green eyes, visible even in the shadow of the canopy that covered the roller coaster platform, looked up and down on him- not quite disapprovingly (though that had happened frequently in Damien's Beta-Alpha conversations), but maybe disappointedly. 

 

She was quite beautiful, at first glance. Still, her beauty and her Alpha-size (Damien guessed she was a 13-footer) set Damien into a slight panic. Was she going to kick him off? Was she going to berate him like so many others have done to him? Old memories of football jockery and bros swam up from the subconscious, bringing back old bile. 

 

He was prepared for the worst. 

 

But then she spoke. 

 

"Hi."

 

"Uh... Hi?" Damien offered a wry little smile and wiggled his fingers at her. 

 

Her mouth contorted (rather cutely, he decided) and then quickly grew into a bit of a smile.

 

"I don't suppose you'd want to... Let me on?"

 

That feeling- that anxiety for what he was going to say next. She'd be upset, no doubt. Maybe even angry. But still, fairs fair, and he got here first. Though Alphas were slightly more like to get what they wanted, Betas had rights too. Still, he supposed, what was the right thing to do? Giving up his seat was a good thing, yes, and given the circumstances, the fact he'd probably not be able to ride this particular coaster for another year or so (his college funds were lacking)... He might even be nominated for sainthood.

 

After a few seconds deliberation, he had made up his mind. He was going to-

 

"Wait," she blurted, snapping her prodigious fingers and pointing at him, "hold that thought. I'll be right back!"

 

She scurried off, her sneakers tamping on the concrete deck rather loudly.

 

*************

 

This was ridiculous. Insane. Idiotic. Irresponsible. Dangerous. Liable to legal recourse. Stupid. 

 

Comfy.

 

How he got conned into sitting in her lap for the ride... He'll never know how that happened. But even still, as the lackadaisical attendant (so lackadaisical, in fact, that he responded thus- "do you mind if we ride doubles?" "Ma'am, you could kill someone in front of me and I wouldn't care.") strapped them in, the very first that he noticed was how... Cushiony his ride mate was. It was soft, unlike anything he'd felt before. It was warm- though that might well have been the late summer sun. It was also fragrant- that fruity perfume that he couldn't quite place (it might've been cherries, strawberries... Or snozberries) washed over him, and not in an unpleasant way. 

 

He set his own hands on his own lap, but only once accidentally set them at his sides- that only lasted for about  a quarter of a second after feeling warm flesh that was not his own, but the embarrassment and the stifled, melodious giggle that accompanied it lasted a while longer.

 

After ensuring that both participants were secured (or thereabouts) fit the ride, the attendant came on the loudspeaker. 

 

"Yeah so like keep your arms and legs and whatever in the ride or whatever. Hey Dave I quit." *kkkkkzzzzh*

 

With that on their minds, with not a few wanting suddenly to get off the coaster, the ride lurched to a start and they were off. As they climbed up the very long slope up to where they would find their energy and inertia needed for the ride, Damien was faintly aware of a buzzing in his ears. 

 

He leaned back, and feeling the plush and warm breasts sink beneath his head, snapped right back forward.  Trying his hardest to not scream from embarrassment, he tried to get a better view of his surroundings. The highest coaster in the park, he felt just a slight sense of vertigo overtake him, but it soon passed. He rarely got sick- of course, the way this day was going, it would be par for the course if he ralphed all over this soft, fragrant girl he sat upon.

 

Again, that buzzing. He was faintly aware of there being some shouting, but only shortly did he realize who was talking to whom- the Alpha at his back was talking to him. 

 

"Thaaaanferboodi."

 

"What?"

 

"I said," she said, slightly louder, "thank you for doing this."

 

"You're welcome," he shouted back perfunctorily. Given both how absurdly awkward and heavenly comfortable he felt, he wasn't sure which he really felt. Should he be thanking her for not kicking him off? Giving him (literally) the seat of a lifetime? He didn't know. She certainly wasn't pushy like many Alphas- she had practically half begged half apologized with her head low when proposing the idea to the attendant. 

 

"What's your name?" She shouted over the din. The first carts had slipped past the edge, and their occupants were screaming in childlike joy and thrill. He didn't understand the first time.

 

"My name?" He shouted back, cupping his hand so the sound reverberated to the back of him.

 

"Yeah!"

 

"My name's Damien."

 

"Damien." She said it ponderously, as if weighing the name in her mind. "That's a nice name."

 

That made him crack a smile- Alpha or not, she was still a pretty girl, and that pretty girl had just given him a compliment. It made him feel pleasantly male. If she had been looking at him directly or he had flipped on her lap so as to face her (god help me, he thought), she might've seen his face redden.

 

Over the edge they teetered, the soft pause you hear at the apex of a climb that lets you stop and think and see for miles around and forget the fact that you're on a contraption built by the lowest bidder and designed by the 'C's get degrees' school of civil engineering.

 

Then, like the b-b-b-bass in so much of the music he liked, they dropped. 

 

The Alpha at his back, his bottom, currently clutching him along the stomach, may have said her name, but he did not hear it- the Alpha next to him and the one he sat upon were screaming too loudly for him to hear anything anyhow. 

 

Up and down, side to side the coaster went- deft turns and stomach-lurching drops all assaulted Damien every second. His body, made sway to the forces of inertia and counter pressure, was often forced back, despite his attempts to lean, right into the body of his riding companion. It wasn't so bad, he thought- if it were not for the fact that every time it happened his head was wedged between two of the largest breasts he'd ever felt or maybe even seen before. 

 

The sensation was riveting, despite himself. The idea that he was practically experiencing something few young men his age had ever had the chance, nay, the privilege was unique- but how soft. How squishy. How fragrant. 

 

He found himself... Well, enjoying it- at least, that was what the semi he was nursed the entire ride indicated. He decided, in the end, to be a bad boy, and enjoy this ride for what it was.

 

He smiled to himself- the late summer sun was shining, the wind blowing through his unkempt black hair. It was too nice of a day to be worried about niceties. He would enjoy himself, and he and this girl would soon part and never speak to, of, or look upon each other ever again. Pure fun.

 

And soon enough, he found himself screaming too, waving his hands up in the air, absolutely tickled as the forces played havoc on his inner ears as he screwdrove, looped, and lurched ahead on what had to be the best roller coaster ride on his life.

 

*************

 

Damien all but powerwalked towards the coaster platform's exit. He was intent to leave the premises as soon as possible, and had practically leapt off the Alpha once the restraints were unlatched. 

 

A part of him felt bad about it- leaving the girl who had been kind (and insightful) enough to suggest they both ride. Still, this guilt was immediately overridden by the embarrassment of having inadvertently accomplished everything short of 3rd base while on that roller coaster and having to face that very woman or ever look her in the eye again (not that that was too difficult- Alpha-Beta height difference and all).

 

And on he walked. He had just sailed past the ticket counter and was almost to the cotton candy stand when he heard a tmp tmp tmp getting louder and closer to him. 

 

"Hey! Wait up!"

 

Oh fack, he thought.

 

"Damien! I said hold on!"

 

Damien suddenly felt and saw the shadow loom over him, but he kept on walking, stubbornly and full of teenage pride (though he was technically nineteen). Still, despite his trudge, the busty redhead had slowed her trot in order to keep pace. 

 

"Hiya! Where you goin'?"

 

He kept his eyes forward, fixed on the road ahead, hoping to see an exit indicator soon- the sooner he was out of this theme park, the less embarrassing it would be. 

 

"Back to my apartment. I need to unpack for semester."

 

She seemed to ponder this.

 

"I see. Hey, me too, actually. I need to unpack my boxes and put on my bedsheets. They're new, and I'm so excited..." She stopped herself, then shook her head. She then smiled dazzlingly and looked back down at him, tilting her head slightly. 

 

"My name's Rena, by the way. I'm a junior. Over at State."

 

"Nice to meet you, Rena."

 

"Nice to meet you too, Damien." Then, hurriedly, "again, I mean. Hey listen," she began, "you did me a really big favor. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten to ride that coaster for at least four months! My parents visit me out here during winter break and we come out to the theme park. Thank you so much for that!"

 

"You," Damien replied, "are very welcome. Have a good night, Rena."

 

"Good ni- hey, actually," she trotted ahead of him a little bit, getting ahead. She turned round and walked backwards. "Can i buy you dinner? I really owe ya one..."

 

"I'm not hungry, thanks."

 

"Oh. Okay... Um... How about..." She twisted her head round and searched. Visual clues. "How 'bout a funnel cake? Wait, that's food, isn't it..." She contorted her lips while in thought- Damien thought it was downright adorable, if not telling.

 

She snapped her fingers- an idea.

 

"How about a drink then? There's a great dive bar down the road from here."

 

"I'm only nineteen."

 

"Really? Oh wow. I thought... Well, nevermind. But hey," she quickened her pace once more, then too a couple of steps right in front of him. She knelt, and he found himself face to face with this girl once again. She smiled and her soft green eyes lit up her face, soft features highlighted in the waning sun. A button nose. A low cut shirt. Short shorts. Black high top sneakers. Light freckled skin, opposite of his own black hair and olive complexion. She set a soft, lithe hand on his arm, and he felt her warmth. It was very pleasant. He felt his spine unstiffen just a bit.

 

"Listen, you did me a really nice favor back there, Damien. The least I can do is buy you a milkshake. Can I at least do that for you?"

 

She smiled at him, just a little sadly, and she cocked her head pleadingly. Captive, he realized. He was embarrassed, yes, but how could he make himself look like an asshat on top of that? How could he resist?

 

***************

"So you're going to Greensfield University? That's State's rival!" 

 

She delightedly took a sip of her strawberry shake, her cheeks fluctuating slightly from the vacuum. Something in the way she said it didn't make it hostile- she was simply stating fact, and by her smile, it told him that she was interested in this conversation.

 

"Uh huh," he nodded, stirring his own purple huckleberry ice cream- he had requested extra milk- so it wasn't as thick. After hearing this, Rena had done the same. He then grinned, and asked, "is this okay? Buying a shake for the enemy?" 

 

Rena smiled and pushed her straw around.

 

"I guess this one time. So what are you studying?"

 

Ahh, the old standbys. This wasn't a date by any means, but he supposed it was only natural two college students turn to academics to make conversation.

 

"Chemical engineering. You?"

 

"Oh, so you're like, super smart then!" She ignored his query but Damien didn't mind. "What do you want to do with your degree?"

 

He shook his head. 

 

"Not sure. Might go into med school or pharmaceuticals. Lots of money to be made there." He sighed, trying to look cool for this next part. "I want to help people with my work. Make them healthy through medicine or drugs. Who knows," he tried, "maybe I can find a way to make Alphas smaller. Eliminate the Alpha-Beta divide."

 

She flared her eyes.

 

"That's possible? Making people shrink?"

 

"Well, maybe, with enough time and research..."

 

"Whoa," she concluded succinctly. "Super smart."

 

He chuckled, played with his spoon again. 

 

"Well, I wouldn't say that..." He smiled and realized that he was nervous. Weird. Still. The compliment did wonders for his fragile little Beta ego. "What about you?" He continued, eager to move on. "What's your major?"

 

"Me? Oh, now there's a story..." She rolled her eyes. "Freshman year it was pre-med, then it was communications..." She squinted her eyes up at him. "You're nineteen, so you're a... Sophomore, right?"

 

He nodded. 

 

"Yep. Going into second year."

 

"Cool. Okay, then... Um... Oh yeah, majors. Um," somewhere in her brain, Damien suspected that gears were creaking back to life. "Well, my major right now is fine arts. Dancing, with a minor in singing."

 

"Oh, a showgirl, huh?"

 

She nodded.

 

"Yep, something like that. I love to move my body and express myself. I like to entertain people, actually- I hope that after I get my degree, I can become an actress and make people laugh." 

 

"Yeah? Well you certainly have the face for it."

 

She giggled when he turned red, realizing what he had just said. He cleared his throat and moved on. 

 

"So, um," he tripped over his words, "do you have a boyfriend?"

 

Shiiiiiiit why why why did I say that, he berated himself.

 

Rena, God bless her, only cast him a sidelong glance and a grin. With a chuckle and stirring her milkshake (nearly half done, he realized- where did this girl put it all? She was pretty cut! Then again, she was a dancer...) She spared him the further humiliation and simply answered his question, clearing her own throat. 

 

"Well, no, not right now..." She shook her head a bit. "Charlie and I just broke up." She scrunched up her little button nose that made Damien almost smile. Just too damn cute. 

 

"He has his commitment to football and his coach told him he had to focus completely on his game and cut away any excess if he wanted to be scouted for the National League, especially considering he's a quarterback. I guess," she said, during the first time her emerald eyes did not shine that evening, "I was one of those excess things."

 

For a second, Rena looked like she might cry. Damien had no idea how to follow that. He considered putting his hand on top of hers but he thought twice- it might not have been well received. 

 

The stark white knight in him creaked to life- how could someone break up with so kind a person? Then again, he didn't have the whole story. Maybe there was more to this then let on, he thought- science had made him cautious like that. Still, even so, the white knight lawful good paladin in him roared his holy righteous indignation. This Charlie had some nerve, making a girl like Rena cry like that. Who cares if he was a quarterback for State? Chivalry dictated that one does not make ladies of the court cry... 

 

Wait. 

 

Charlie, a QB for State.

 

No. Way. It couldn't be. 

 

"Wait," Damien asked, tentatively, "Charlie... Denham? You dated Charlie Denham? The QB for State? The guy who singlehandedly tossed  the winning pass over seventy yards?"

 

The look that passed Rena's face made him immediately regret his question- her eyelids narrowed and she pouted her lips. 

 

"Ah. A fan of his, I see." 

 

Oh, the look he must have had on his face. Apparently, she saw it, as she cocked her eyebrow shortly after her own accusation.

 

"Well, I, I, I... Rena, you gotta understand, f-football is a tradition in my family, and we know all the players in the state, s-so..."

 

He must've looked a nervous wreck. 

 

"No, I know, I understand," Rena began with a lilt in her voice, "he's a big deal. I get it, I do. He's a dang good player, for sure. And I'm happy for him, really..." She stirred the last bit of milkshake, skewing a strawberry whole on her straw. "I just wish he would've shared his time, you know?"

 

That struck him hard. How could it not? Damien wasn't a monster, and he could empathize with her- it must've been difficult, breaking up with a high profile guy like Charlie. A whole gamut of emotions right there, high profile or not.

 

Suddenly to him, Rena looked very small. For a second the divide wasn't there, and he was more interested in comforting this friend of his than getting the hell out of Dodge after his little roller coaster fiasco. 

 

He took a chance, and his hand reached across the table, clutching her few outstretched fingers near her shake glass. 

 

She looked up and regarded him with wet emerald eyes. The setting sun caught in them and he could see the minute patterns in the iris of this woman. The way slight lines pointed to the pupil, darkening slightly in a mesh that made him realize that her eye color was not a single shade of green but many. Emerald, viridian, new leaf, pine, grass. The eyes, the eyes. He felt as though he could fall in and swim forever.

 

He was caught out of his reverie when he felt her thumb of the hand he reached out to touch and press firmly on the back of his own hand. It startled him at first but the smile she directed to him told him that he was fine, this was okay. 

 

"I'm sorry, Rena," he began. "For everything. You probably didn't deserve to be tossed aside like that. From what I know of you, you're a generous and considerate person. I can't imagine why Charlie did that. I'm sorry."

 

Then, because people like to be comforting and say things that are certainly well meaning and and well intentioned but not entirely reflective of their thoughts, he said,

 

"If there's anything I can do."

 

And just like that, her eyes lit up.

 

"Great!" She suddenly burst. The yelp startled Damien not a little, and he nearly flung his hands to his ears to protect them from the prodigious sound coming from the Alpha. "It's settled then," she spoke again, a little more softly.

 

She rose up from her seat and walked around the table to where Damien was sitting. Without any trouble, she took him by his aides and lifted him from his chair, only a small yelp of protest spilling out of his mouth.

 

"You'll spend the evening with me then!"

 

"I... I will?"

 

"Yep!" She set him on the ground and put her hands on his shoulders. Again, he felt captivated by those green eyes. "Since we're both here alone, it's only natural that we enjoy it together- these kinds of places are always more fun with company, don't you agree?"

 

Slowly, Damien nodded, unable to do anything contrary to it.

 

"Uh huh... I guess."

 

She smiled wide and stood back up, still gazing down on him.

 

"Great. Let's get going then. This will be so much fun!"

 

She gripped him by the hand, and she practically yanked him with her, off to see the sights and sounds of the rest of the theme park, she whistling to herself and him wondering just what in the hell had happened, leaving the rest of his huckleberry shake behind. 

 

******************

 

Nestled in the heart of the park next to the food court (where Rena had bought Damien his milkshake) was the arcade. During the night, most of the coasters and rides were closed (with the exception of the haunted house, which didn't open until an hour or so), so most of the parks patrons contented themselves with the kitschy carnival style games of skill and luck. Among the electronic arcades were ring toss, bottle throw, water squirters, and other classics. Most of these were occupied, so it was with only some hesitation that Rena took Damien to the electronic arcade. 

 

They passed a Beta-scaled Whackamole machine, which Rena simply stated at.

 

"What is it?" Was her query. 

 

"Wait, you've never played this game? Whackamole? It's super fun." He confided. He ambled over to the machine and inserted a couple of quarters. Then, like Thor wielding Mjolnir, he hefted the foam bat and set to work.

 

It was a lot more difficult than he remembered, he found- for some reason he couldn't keep up with the tumult of noises and butt ugly mechanical rodents that popped their heads out once every so. Still, within the first ten seconds he started to get the hang of it, and racked up points like a pro. It came easy once you got the rhythm of it down pat.

 

"33,000," he declared magnanimously. He looked up at Rena proudly who was softly clapping her hands. 

 

"Look at you go," she cooed, "but now it's my turn. It doesn't look so difficult..."

 

Her performance proved otherwise- even with her Alpha arm length and speed advantages on the Beta machine, Rena struggled to hit any of them. The rodents, seemingly aware of her novice status in such a game, chirped and whirled mockingly at her. 

 

"12,000," Damien read, nodding his head up and down. "Not too bad for a beginner," he tried to console. Rena wore an annoyed pout on her pink lips, squinting at the machine. Then, she held out her hand to him, looking and grinning mischievously at her little friend.

 

"Another quarter, please."

 

He gave her one, and stepped back- was she going to try again? He supposed that really said something about her- determination and effort. What would she do differently this time? 

As if in answer to that question,  he saw her kneel down and place, perplexingly, her very prodigious breasts onto the game board. She was able to cover three of the seven rodent holes with her boobs- quite the feat. 

 

He felt a bead of sweat curl down his neck, despite the evening cool. He had the passing thought that he would have liked very much to be that game board right now.

 

"What are you..." He half whispered to her, but she was not listening. Her tongue stuck to the side of her mouth for concentration, she set another quarter in, and she began again. The mechanics whirred an wizzed, but she was not deterred. She did a lot better this time- she was able to concentrate fully on the top four holes and manage the rodents there with ease, while her prodigious mammaries bounced every so often up then down quickly. Again, beads of sweat continued to trickle down his neck at the sight of them jiggling.

 

Despite the... Well, cheat, she did very well- each rodent that popped up on her boobs registered as a hit, and with her concentration on the top four, she was able to get essentially every hit. 

 

62,000!

 

"Heyyyyy," Rena droned lazily, grinning kid-like, "I did pretty good." She glanced down at her companion once she stood up and brushed her knees off. "See? Not so hard once you get the trick, right?"

 

Damien simply grinned mirthlessly and nodded. 

 

"I suppose... Still, that'd be like me having you chase me through a Beta jungle gym- I'd have the advantage, like you did here!"

 

She giggled melodiously, endearingly.

 

"Aww," she mock cooed, "is Damien sad because big bad Rena beat his high score?" She laughed and squeeze him on the shoulder. "Come on, you- let's go see what that game over there is."

 

'That game over there' was a small little stall with six steel milk bottles stacked in a triangle. At it, an Alpha blonde with a State baseball jersey hucked old baseballs at the milk bottles, knocking them clean off and making them crash to the ground.

 

"Oh, phooey," Rena pouted her lips adorably, "someone's using it." She scanned the area again then squeezed Damien on shoulder lightly. "Come on, there's another game this way!"

 

She brought him over to a tower where you could strike a square on the floor with a mallet. When struck, a weight would zip up and, if you struck true and hard, ring the bell some 20 feet off the ground. A test of strength. 

 

Damien noticed that every three or so feet, there were tiered levels of strength, ranging from 'Wimpy Baby' at the bottom to 'Herculean Hero' at the top. He had sinking feeling. How could he compete with an Alpha? Even more so on a Beta level game?

 

He felt a pair of hands push him in the direction of the game, urging him on. 

 

"Well, go ahead! Show me what muscles you got, big guy!" She smiled coquettishly, enough to make him forget how stupid he was about to look. 

 

Guys lose their upper brains around girls, son, damien's father had warned him early on as a child. Now, on the cusp of manhood, he was beginning to see how true that really was. 

 

Still, despite him knowing he was about to truly embarrass himself, Damien dug in his pocket for a quarter and handed it to the aged Beta attendant, who shook his head forlornly. 

 

"Tough break, kid," he said, like he was some oracle of that gave bleak futures of lowered expectations and unimpressed females. He handed him the sledge hammer, a weighty piece of iron that he half expected was purchased at a pawn shop or liquidation sale at the meat packing plant.

 

One breath. Two. He raised the hammer high above him, arched his back, and brought it down with all his might. Up the weight went...

 

And it peaked at fourteen feet- safely in the middle of the tier that designated him as 'Macho Man.' 

 

He heard a clapping behind him- Rena was cheering him on and jumping up and down, the ground tremor in slightly as she landed.

 

"Muscle man!" She chanted, and strangely, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. But then again, it wasn't a bad embarrassed. He took a slight bow, a smile on his face. He then trotted over to her, and offered up the hammer to her.

 

"Now... Your turn, right?"

 

"I suppose so..." 

 

Rena paid the attendant, who backed away and simply watched. 

 

"Careful now, miss- this here is a Beta machine. So no goin' crazy, y'hear?"

 

She gulped and nodded her head at him. The weight of the task suddenly dawned on her, and she looked nervous.

 

"Y-yessir!"

 

Rena turned to Damien who chuckled. He held up a solitary hand and wiggled his fingers. She seemed to get the message. She gripped then, the hammer by the bottom with one hand and raised it up slightly. Then, closing her eyes, she brought the iron down, splitting the square immediately. The weight shot up, faster than Damien could imagine. Past the tiers it went, and it slammed into the bell with a thunderous clang, short lived- the bell ripped from the screws that held it fast, and they watched helplessly as it flew up some ten feet higher, suspending beautifully for about a half second, then soared back down and hit the concrete with an ugly song. 

 

Most of crowd around them had stopped to see what the commotion was. The silence that followed seemed to last a lifetime, even longer for Rena and Damien. Then, God rest whomever it was, someone began to clap. A single bit in truth, but then someone took up the call and began as well. Soon enough, the tumult started, and whoops and shouts and clapping hands filled the air. 

 

Despite his initial embarrassment, Damien couldn't help but clap himself. It was funny, to be sure, but it was also pretty interesting. He was amazed at how strong even one handed she could swing. Was that attributable to her Alpha size or was she really swinging with all her might? He couldn't tell. Either way, the prospect was terrifying- God help him if he ever made this woman upset. 

 

Still, Rena seemed pleased (or at least tickled) by the sudden applause. She smiled softly and then took a graceful curtsy, belying her skill as a dancer. When it died down, she trotted over to the attendant with a sheepish grin on her face, reaching out and handing him the sledge. 

 

He took it with reverence, thinking a moment and then saying,

 

"I've worked here some thirty years, young miss. Never once have I seen that happen."

 

Then, a big old grin passed his mouth and he gave a toothy smile. 

 

"And now I can finally say one of my life goals is fulfilled- seeing just that. Thank you, young lady."

 

************

 

The milk bottle game was still being occupied by the wannabe major leaguer and and his gaggle of women, both Alpha and Beta, each pining for a favor, to win her this toy or that. 

 

Rather than wait, the two decided to go to the haunted house instead.

 

Neither had been there before, and while Rena admitted she'd passed by it once or twice thinking she'd brave it by herself, it never happened. Not alone, anyhow. But, she explained, now that she had a friend to go with, she could do it. 

 

"But won't you still get scared? Even though you're with someone else?" He asked. 

 

To which, Rena smiled saccharinely and looked down on him. 

 

"Maybe," she admitted, with a roll of her eyes, "but you'll protect me if I do, won't you?"

 

Damien chuckled and kept walking towards the entrance of the facility, a big, creaky looking house that played corny, almost royalty-free sounding thunder and ghastly moans. Strobe lights flickered in the night sky, giving the place an admittedly convincing appearance. It might have even passed for spooky if not for the theme park's mascot standing outside smiling. 

 

"Yeah, I suppose I will. Kind of funny though, right? The chihuahua guarding the Great Dane?"

 

She laughed, a melodious sound.

 

"Oh, my hero. I don't even speak Danish." But then, she added, "but they are delicious. My favorite is cherry."

 

The haunted house was... Quite the spectacle. Several actors dressed in gory and obscene costumes hammed it up and did their best to contribute to the spooky atmosphere. Most of the rooms were meant to build up an atmosphere and then have an actor jump out and try to startle you. It was effective, but rather predictable- though for Damien it did startle him occasionally.

 

There was one very special room that neither of the pair quite expected. All sorts of red and crimsons bedecked the room, walls splashed Jackson Pollock style to look like blood splatters, red silk shades overhanging from the ceiling, and even those lighted red cloths that danced under a light and fan to imitate a fire were stuck intermittently along the wall. 

 

As Rena and Damien and the little mixed group they were lopped in with made their way across, some hellish voice cackled and and echoed throughout the room, from some unseen speaker from what Rena thought was below her. 

 

A smokescreen appeared and a demon face materialized from the motes of light sent by the projector above them. It grinned like hubris at them from behind empty, reddened sockets. Despite himself, Damien couldn't but help tense up. Rena apparently did the same, as he felt two hands wrap onto his shoulders with quite a bit more than was comfortable. 

 

"Welcome, honored sacrifices!" The demonhead roared in a guttural rasp, "you have come into my lair, and now we shall bathe these unholy walls in your blood! Send forth the demons to collect them!!"

 

"Jesus Christ, this is a kids' theme pa-ack" 

 

Damien's sentence was cut off with a sharp tell as Rena picked him up, literally, from the ground. A few actors, clad in red robes and disturbing masks, came out of the door behind the smokescreen and corralled their little group into the next chamber, where no doubt their desanguination was to commence. Rena, upon arrival of these actors (mostly Betas), squeezed Damien tight as a vice. 

 

"R-Reen." He squeaked out, feeling helpless. "Leggo."

 

His words, made already small and weak by her arms wrapping around him and forcing the air out his lungs, were completely drowned out by Rena's high pitched scream. It wasn't a terrible cry, or one that caused discomfort, but it was very very loud. It might've almost seemed comical to him if he hadn't felt like a rib was about to break. They'd be bruised, though, for sure. 

 

Still, it was not without its comforts- she had held him close to her front end, the majority of his body and pressed against a soft (but not flabby) midriff; his head, he noted in utter but agonizing delight, was squished between her two Alpha-grade boobages. 

 

They were soft. Warm. Rumbly, as followed her screaming. For a second, the pain melted away from Damien's body and it was just him the breasts, one with the universe in so moksha-esque oneness. They felt flush against his cheeks and, he realized, he could smell the fruity perfume he had encountered earlier at the roller coaster. What's more, the claustrophobic walls and heat of the haunted house, along with Rena's own fear, had caused a thin sheen of perspiration to form in the crevice of her breasts. In addition to the fruit was the distinct scent of woman (no, of her), fresh and alive and blood coursing inside of her. 

 

Being of the nerdy variation, Damien wasn't the most skilled in the arts of... Really, anything to do with the opposite sex. It didn't help that the school of engineering tended to be a sausagefest at his university. As a result, this embrace that Rena had locked him into was a very novel (or at least unfamiliar) sensation. He felt warm. He felt safe. He felt secure in the arms of this woman he had just met, even just barely knowing her. It made his insides stir, his stomach do backflips and his heart palpitate flutteringly. It made him, without his permission he lamented, nurse a semi in his pants. 

 

He just... Felt good. Like he could stay there next to forever.

 

Another squeeze and yelp, however, alerted him to the present. In his reverie, he failed to notice that they had reached the end of the haunted house, exiting from the stuffy acrid smoke and into the clear night skies and breeze. Rena held him firm, however, and it was only a short trot to a patch of vividly green grass that she let go. When she did, he dropped unceremoniously onto the ground with a thud.

 

"Oh no, Damien!" She knelt down over him and placed a hand on top of him. rolling him over onto his back. "Are you okay?" She said, sounding on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to squeeze you so hard."

 

He chuckled (which hurt) and set a hand on her knee. 

 

"Did a demon get you?"

 

She sniffed loudly and cocked her eyebrow. 

 

"What?"

 

"Did the demons get you. Did I protect you from them?"

 

Rena laughed at that and rolled her eyes. She set a hand on his own and squeezed (considerably softer). She set her hands under him and lifted, setting him on his feet. 

 

"You did, my little hero!"

 

"Oh good. I charge by the hour, you know. For body guarding, I mean.

 

***************

They rested briefly, Rena apologizing the entire time while Damien rubbed his ribs, and then headed off. The milk bottle game was finally free. It was getting pretty late and, most of the park patrons being of the younger crowd, the park had nearly emptied. Some of the games had closed down for the night, their canvas covers closed and zipped up tight, but the milk bottle one still had its attendant, looking very bored and her nose dug into her phone.

 

"Yall wanna play?" She asked through a mouthful of chewing gum. She was an Alpha, eleven feet tall. "Only a buck for three balls."

 

"Sure," Rena beamed, pulling a crumpled dollar from her short shorts pocket.

 

The game was simple- knock down all six bottles, and she had three chances to do so. It was harder than it looked- the bottles were weighted, no doubt.

 

This was evidenced by the second try (the first ball had sailed over the bottles harmlessly)- the ball struck the bottom middle bottle dead center- and didn't even budge! 

 

"What the..." Rena scowled.

 

"Ya gotta chuck'em real hard, miss," said the gum chewing Alpha, smiling and somehow admitting that they knew the game was difficult. 

 

But Rena was determined- she took on the pose of a big league ball pitcher, planted one foot, twisted, then threw hard, her other sneaker-clad foot acting as a counterweight. The ball flew by, causing Damien to feel the slight vacuum by her movement, lightning fast. 

 

No doubt, it would have knocked all six bottles to the ground- had it hit the middle. Instead, it struck the top bottle with a mighty metallic clang, sending it hurtling into the back canvas (put there to stop its momentum and catch it).

 

"Aww, phooey!" She pouted, kicking up dust with the toe of her shoe. "I stink."

 

Damien chuckled, setting a hand on her arm. 

 

"Hey, these games are tough. I remember never getting these the first time either."

 

She looked down at him and smiled. 

 

"Oh yeah? Why don't you try, then?" 

 

Her tone wasn't hostile or teasing- but he noticed (and really found cute, he noticed) her eyes flash and sparkle at that mention. She genuinely wanted him to try- and maybe even succeed. 

 

Who is this girl, he wondered, she barely knows me. 

 

He nodded, and took a dollar out, setting it on the counter.

 

"Okay little man, gimme a second to get the Beta set ready."

 

The Beta set was the same game, only scaled down- proportioned to Damien's size- it would be unfair for him to try and knock down an Alpha- they being eight times the weight of his set. When Damien explained this to Rena, she wore confused look on her face. 

 

"Gosh," she said after a second, "I don't get it. But Damien, you are so smart. Super smart!"

 

It made him blush, and he quickly turned his attention to the three balls set before him. The first, like Rena's, sailed over harmlessly. The second, however, with. Little bit of aiming, knocked down all six.

 

Rena clapped and cheered when he did so, picking him up and swinging him around and yelling 'you did it you did it you did it'.

 

"So what prize ya want," asked the tired attendant, once Rena set her friend down. 

 

Damien, only a little dizzy, pointed to a large pink stuffed unicorn hanging by a hook on the wire walls. 

 

"Can I have that one for her?" He pointed to Rena who smiled and blushed.

 

The attendant, however, chuckled and shook her head sadly, to which Damien cocked an eyebrow.

 

"Sorry, but Alpha prizes are for Alpha games only. Sorry, yall." 

 

Damien was about to choose another Beta prize (maybe she could use it for her car or something, he thought) when the attendant spoke up again, her smile a little more hopeful.

 

"However," she continued, "seeing as how y'all're my last tonight, I thinks we can make it a little interesting." 

 

She began to pick up the fallen bottles and stacked them up. 

 

"Tell yall what, you can knock these over again in one shot, I'll let ya have the pink unicorn for ya friend."

She walked over and bent over, pressing the ball into Damien's hand. 

"You miss or don't knock'em over, you get nothin'. So, little guy,"

She looked up at Rena and then back down to Damien, the flutter of hope and possibility flying in his stomach.

"What'll it be?"

**********************

"I love it! It's so soft and squishy!" Cried Rena for what might've been the nineteenth time. She hugged and squeezed the fluffy pink unicorn close  to her and rocked back and forth.

Damien favored her with a patient smile, happy that she was happy. It was fun to this girl, a girl who had been so full of surprises tonight, enjoy herself and have almost a childlike glee. It was both refreshing and surreal- surreal by way of seeing a girl more than twice his height act like a kid, refreshing in the way that she had a sort of innocence, kindness. She had teased him tonight, yes, but it was far from any sort of malicious ridicule. In short, she was sweet, he realized- she was kind. 

She opened an eye and peered at him, suddenly self conscious. 

"What," she asked, rolling her eyes. "I'm excited about my new stuffed animal. He'll be a great pillow on my bed tonight."

"Yeah?" Damien asked, setting his hands in his pockets. "That thing is nearly the size of me."

Rena held out the fluff and examined it. It reached about her legs- he was right.

"I suppose so. Huh. Still!" She yelped, embracing the pink nightmare once again, "it's so comfy and fluffy. I love it so much! 

They rounded the corner onto the main plaza of the park. It was closing time, and all the gift shops and food vendors were closed up. Garbage crews had come out and began emptying the trash and recycle bins, some street sweepers going up and down the side walks. The summer moon was out, shining brightly. Soon it would be the autumn moon, and school would be in full swing. He had to get back to his dorm soon- there was still stuff he had to unpack.

"Well Rena," he said, checking his phone's clock, "I guess this is good night, huh?"

She looked down at him and smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I think so. Do you need a ride back to campus?"

“No, my car's in the parking lot."

"Oh good," she stopped walking, still clutching the toy tightly. "Actually," 

The notice made Damien turn his head to look at her. She was scratching her head and looking around.

"I think there's a... Oh, there it is- come on, this way!" She started to walk to the corner of the plaza.

"Where are we going?"

There's a photobooth over here. Let's take some pictures, I want to remember this night!"

Damien followed but chuckled. 

"What," he teased, "wasn't your stuffed animal memorabilia enough? Gee, aren't we being greedy..."

She turned her head and poked a tongue out at him.

"Yes, it's enough, but I want you to have something too."

"That milkshake is sure doing... 'Something' to my stomach..."

"Oh, hush you. See, that booth is still open!"

"But that's a Beta one."

"So? We can both fit in...” 

Setting her unicorn on the roof of the booth (she had apparently named it Leopold, as she said 'okay, Leopold, stay put'. Then, like trying to push laundry into a drawer that doesn't have enough room, she went in, her butt sticking out and her feet flailing. Soon enough, she was in, and she beckoned him to join her.

*******************

The whole idea of photobooths are to capture moments- it's different from the regular camera on your phones or your overpriced Nikon (yeah, sure, try and justify your expensive ass hobbies by taking stupid amounts of dumb pictures- thirty pictures of your bland Ragu-grade spaghetti sauce? yo marinara game weak af, son. #lavostrasalsasucchiacazzo )- those cameras capture individual moments- usually posed or preplanned. Photobooths, however, offer a more unique experience- it offers the possibility of movement, and discovery. Change within a short time. Some cameras take quick successions of photos now, sure, but you don't have that same spontaneity that emerges solely at photobooths. Happy accidents happen in photobooths, life happens in photobooths. For example, life happened for Rena and Damien.

Observe- their photobooths prints out six photos two times (two copies so couples can each have a copy). 

The first photo was standard- silly faces and peace signs. Collegiate fare.

The second was a serious photo, both adopting a formal (as possible) manner and affect, the only marring feature being the cracks of a telling smile at the corner of Rena's lips. 

The third is where it got interesting- as it was a Beta booth, it was quite cramped- especially for a busty girl like Rena to be in there. We might infer that Damien tripped, or turned his body wrong- it shows him falling down with an understandably alarmed expression in his eyes- and, it's not hard to see why- his vector suggested his stopping point would be the two full, already hiked up breasts that belonged to Rena. Rena herself looks teetering on the border of humor and concern.

The fourth- Damien is head first in her cleavage, and Rena is blushing as red as the hair on top of her head. 

The fifth, and this is where we see the change- both are looking at each other- maybe, we can guess, really and actually looking at each other for the first time. The light in their eyes is different. They're softer, more gentle. Green eyes turn to emeralds, brown eyes to topaz. They see not the person, not the physically, but perhaps the 'something more.' Something beyond. Both are blushing, both of them have their eyes half closed and mouths half open. They are considerably closer to each other (perhaps in every sense of the word- physically, emotionally, maybe even spiritually). 

The sixth and final- they kiss, lost in each other's passions.

The instantaneous photographs they have paid for, spitting out of the printer in completion not thirty seconds after their last photo is taken, are swept up by the wind after printing- the two, however, do not come out of the photobooth for five minutes after their photos, their capture of change, has blown away.  

 

**********************

"So," Rena asked, reaching her car that Damien has walked her to. Her skin was tingling, her finger rubbing her lip wantonly, lasting memories of the ending night, "when can I see you again?"

Damien, a little more bold, a little more confident, walked over and set a hand on her hip, crossing his legs and trying very hard to look cool.

"Well," he began, "how does next weekend sound?"

"I'd like that. Perhaps We could go for that dinner I offered tonight?"

He smiled warmly, taking out his cell phone.

"That sounds great. But only if I can buy you a milkshake after."

She smiled warmly, more than she anytime during the night. "Deal."

They exchanged phone numbers, both of them secretly adding their own favorite smiley emoticon to the end of the name. Both hoped, ironically, that the other didn't pick up on that action. 

"Great then," Damien stood back up and looked up at her. "It sounds like-"

"A date?" She finished, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers absently. 

He nodded, satisfied.

"Yeah, a date."

Both smiled warmly, both admiring each other in the summer moonlight and stars. It was clear tonight. Rena dropped to both knees, and leaned in, offering Damien a bear hug that engulfed him completely. The embrace, warm and flush and making him feel all sorts of wonderful feelings he'd never felt before, lasted for a long time- which, to be fair, neither minded. 

She release him from the hug, still gripping him by the shoulders. She looked over at him and then, gingerly, tenderly, with the full passion of someone recently infatuated, she leaned in and kissed him once again. 

Her lips covered a good deal of his face, but he embraced it full on, doing his best to accommodate her and kiss back.

The kiss was not very brief, but was soon over.

"Damien," she began, soft as a mouse. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you so much."

"I had a great time too, in fact. The best," he admitted. Then, maybe his body taking over, he said, "I can't wait to see you next week."

"I can't wait either."

They parted, Damien watching Rena drive off with a smile and a wave. Then, her car not more then a speck across the parking lot, he turned, pulled his own keys out of his pocket, and walked back to his car, flipping the keys around his finger and whistling something by Michael Bublé.

~Fin~

 

 

 

***Castle Crash and Crunch***

 

"Open the gates!"

 

The guard peered down into the thick fog, the inclement weather making it difficult to see who it was. Morning had rolled in the night's chill was wearing off in the early light. Dew clung to the grass and tree leaves. The voice rang out again, this time from in front of the wood.

 

The guardsman recognized whom it was- Will, a knight in service to the king. Or, rather now, the queen – he supposed- ever since his disappearance, the queen, noble lady that she was, had taken up defense of the kingdom and searching for her husband.

 

He called down to the gatesman to allow room for a horse and rider to pass trough. The rider shot past, into the dim and wet castle bailey. The guard watched as the man practically leapt from the horse, landing on his feet, and breaking into a run.

[1] 

He bowled over the town baker, fresh loaves spilling into the mud and leaving him whooping and hollering and throwing the vilest of curses towards the dashing knight. He could have never known, nor could the baker, what news would cause him to so carelessly move.

 

Will burst through the castle keep doors, running up the spiral staircase and into the queen's chambers. It half startled the queen and her advisors, who were breaking their fast on bread and berry preserves.

 

"Good gods, Will," cried the queen, setting her knife and bread down. "What's the meaning of this?"

[2] 

Her eyes then suddenly shined in revelatory hope- could Will have news of her beloved king? She asked him as much.

 

The knight shook his head mournfully, nearly panicking. 

 

"No, milady, but in place news more dire!" He flashed his gaze to her then her advisors. "She comes again[3] , milady! The giant demon, she," his voice cracked.

 

The queen laid a hand upon the knight's shoulder, an attempt to comfort despite her own pending sense of dread.

 

"At peace, Will- tell me what happened. Where is Barold? Was he not with-"

 

"The giant, milady," tears rimmed his eyes. He was beyond terrified. "The giant smashed him to pieces and he is no more!"

 

"Gods have mercy," the queen whispered. "And she comes this way?"

 

Will nodded the affirmative. 

 

"Then," the queen pronounced resolutely, despite that intimate fear, "We must prepare!"

 

She took Will by the shoulders. "Pull yourself together and take courage, Ser[4]  Will- we must muster the strength of the castle, and call to arms all horsemen. Can you do it?"

 

Ever the chivalrous, Will nodded and turned. He dashed again out the door, and off, no doubt, to the stables. The queen, then turned to her advisors, among them the castellan and man-at-arms. 

 

"Make ready the castle for attack, lords mine. Call to arms every man in the army to protect and evacuate the citizenry. Once all are down in the dungeons, have them return and take up defense. Gods help us that we can mount a defense before she reaches here. Let's show this beast that another giantess, a queen, rules this castle!"

 

*************

 

The village emptied quickly, only some stragglers out in the field, them either not hearing the call or finding it ridiculous. The knights and men at arms, all armed to the teeth and with crossbows and bows, lined the walls and waited nervously for the coming sign. A few men on horseback stood in the fields, waiting.

 

The first rumble was imperceptible, and ply the horses and birds and dogs in the kennels were privy to it. They bayed loudly, alerting the Knights. The second rumbles, and then the third, grew even louder, this time shaking the castle just so delicately.

 

The thick fog meant that they heard her, and felt the tremors from her steady walking, before they saw her. The commanders shouted and men started to steel their nerves. Quarrels rested on crossbows, arrows nocked on drawstrings.

 

Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.

 

One man pissed himself, much to the nervous laughter of his comrades.

 

A horn sounded and, to everyone's grey fear, the head of the giantess emerged from the tall pines of the forest. The trees broke and parted where she walked, animals fled out in all directions and birds took flight.

 

Thoom. Thoom. Thoom. 

 

She emerged from the grey-green tree line, naked and plump, her breasts swaying gently[5]  – sensuously – with each step, and looking, to some, like a mighty goddess. Indeed, some had proposed at the castle that these two were indeed goddesses and should be revered. The idea did not stick well, and that particular magister was escorted from the council chamber.

 

Her white skin shone, gleaming in the morning sunlight and the dew from trees shimmering on her thick thighs and pillar-like legs. She was, in many of the soldiers' opinions, beautiful- at least in body, as her face was covered by what was no doubt a faceplate of a sort. The one who took the king had the same.

[6] 

But she was also monstrous, in that same breath as beautiful- terrible. Horrifying. An abomination.

 

Regardless of what they called her or thought of her, the fact was that she was here. Big and tall and enormous. And they would have to deal with her.

 

The horsemen in the field, ready and closest to the giantess, reared and charged, nocking arrows. They fired at her, a not insignificant swarm of projectiles at her feet. Yet they were not even breaking her skin- they simply bounced off harmlessly and into the ground.

 

The horse knights, seeing the futility in shooting (but not the Knights on the wall- they were too far to see the ineffectiveness of it), drew their spears and swords, running for her ankles. Some made it; they were able to get hits in. But to no avail. Spears snapped like twigs on ankles and toes and their swords lost their edge scraping along the skin.

 

Others who moved in were not so lucky- she kicked at them, knocking some off their horses and breaking their necks. By accident or design, as she put her feet down or walked forward, some horsemen, riders and mounts both, were crushed underfoot, spraying gore and red blood in all directions.

 

"Uurraaah!" The giantess screamed, grinding her foot on one unlucky soul, the blood and viscera seeping between her toes.

 

Three tentacles, so much like from the tales of monsters from beyond the blue sea, swirled behind her, seeming to react and move and sway with her movement, but for the meantime staying behind her.

 

She began to swipe down, slapping some of the riders off their horses and crushing some between her hands. They flew about, some their necks broken or limbs literally swiped off, screaming in agony and writhing on the ground. The giantess seemed to go out of her way to end these screamers' lives, popping their heads between fingers and under toes and simply walking upon them, grinding out their dinful[7]  noise with a quick pop. 

 

In short minutes, the cavalry of twenty or so riders was decimated to nothing, save one last. It was the very knight Will, speeding his utmost to return to the castle, desperate for the safety of stone walls and a wealth of armor. 

 

His legs were tired, tired of pushing this damnable beast below him. His eyes wide, his heart beating very nearly out of its cage, as he tried in vain to justify or even explain the carnage he had just witnessed.

 

The thrums were behind him, getting all the louder each step. Guttural grunts and noises above, lilting and falling and spelling no doubt doom for him.

 

Without warning his mount buckled from under him, and he crashed face first into the soft green earth. As he came to, he heard his horse screaming and whinnying, then suddenly cut off with the sickening sound of flesh tearing.

 

"Urrgghh..." The giantess moaned, sounding, if he recognized it, disappointed.

 

Will rose up, and started to walk away towards the castle, a structure not a quarter mile away. If he could make it he-

 

A sudden lurch brought him flying up into the sky, and his heart shot with icy fear. This couldn't be happening.

 

He was flipped over, unceremoniously, and brought to the face of the giantess- a thick armor of silver with flashing motes of blue and red, covered the majority of her face, save for the area just below her nose, apparently bare, that displayed her mouth. Most disturbingly, reminding Will of the terrifying stories the priests and his mother used to warn him of, the set of grotesque eyes that say aglowing hellishly red in either side of the visage, seemingly staring straight at him.[8]  A blonde mop of hair seemed to poke out from beneath the helmet, yellow on white skin.

 

His mind swam in fear, the stomach churning and loosening. He may have urinated himself, but he could not tell. The giantess, seemingly unconcerned with his fear, reached back on her helm and pressed a button hidden from his view. A series of whirs emerged from the metal and Will heard a soft hiss[9] , and a shimmer around the open area of the helm seemed to... Fall down, the way a water in a looking glass ripples and shifts. 

 

Hot breath enveloped Will, who was hanging and thrashing fruitlessly. A new streak of panic shot through him, and he began to beat on the fingers of the one who held him captive.

 

A low chuckle melted from the throat of the giantess, who regarded the little man, helpless and weak, with an expression[10]  maybe Will could not fully comprehend. 

 

Out the corner of his eye, Will saw it- the pink slick muscle push out from between puffy lips and slide across them, wetting them in a glisten.

 

"Oh gods be good, no," he breathed, tears forming in his eyes. The realization came and dropped his stomach in abject terror- she was going to eat him.

 

"Please milady, oh goddess, whatever thou art, mercy I beg!" His high speech came forth naturally, the kind one reserved for prayer or royal audience.

 

If she understood him, she gave no sign. With a cold casual motion, the giantess opened her mouth and moved this captive man, no bigger than her thumb, towards the gaping maw. 

 

A scream erupted from Will's mouth, cursing and shouting and tears forming in his eyes. He drew closer to the mouth, and went in.

 

The soldiers on the wall, watching in horror, started shouting, some seeking to retreat- they'd seen everything, even from a quarter of a mile, even without lenses. She had eaten him! She'd attacked and destroyed the cavalrymen and even ate one of them. 

 

The vague fear that had grown in their minds took a crystallized form, some shaking and others thinking twice on the safety of their numbers and fortifications. Even with all their arrows and steel and armor and confidence- what was it to this beast in the shape of such a well-fed woman that crushed men like bugs and consumed their flesh?

 

Still, all the same, perhaps the product of some indomitable spirit, they stood. Those that did run were forced back into position by the heavy handed men at arms.

 

"Form rank, you curs[11] ! Get thee ready to fight! Nock arrows!"

 

Hundreds of bow strings thrummed as wood shafts affixed to them, fingers curling round them.

 

They watched as the giantess finished her work yonder and turned her attention on the castle keep where they stood. Some backed away, kept only in place by either some abstract like duty or an emotion such as fear of reprisal.

 

The giantess, wiping red from her mouth, started towards them- first at walking pace, then a jog.

 

"Draw!"

 

Hundreds of bowstrings taut back, all training their shafts at the now running beast.

 

A girlish giggle filled the air, coming from the running giantess.

 

The giantess stomped passed the fence line, driving one of the wooden poles deep into the earth. Such fence was purposely placed there- a marking point. One thousand feet, closing the distance fast.

 

"Loose!"

 

The air filled with the sound of whistling shafts, the thrum of vibrating strings. A cloud of black arced together towards the running monster, who held her hands out to meet the arrows.

 

Some passed over her head, others finding their mark, but not even penetrating skin. 

 

The volley done, she still ran towards them unimpeded. Eight hundred feet. Seven.

 

"N... Nock arrows!" Cried the master at arms, a warble betraying his voice. 

 

"She still comes, m'lord! We must retreat!" said  a man close to him.

 

"No! Stay where thou art!"

 

"M'lord please!"

 

"Mercy, let us haste away!"

 

"Gods save us!"

 

The tumult broke out in anticipation, the realization that the giantess could not be stopped, would not be stopped, grasped their minds. A primal animal flight imperative overcame them- they panicked, grew messy- they lost their will to fight. The giantess closed in, running still, her bare breasts bouncing and her exposed vagina quivering with wetness.[12] 

 

Someone screamed, ran to the side – and those on the walls directly in front of the giantess began to push, above, trying their damnedest to get away from the several hundred feet of flesh. Some of the men were veterans of campaigns, but no siege engine could ever hope to compare.

 

The ground shook, shaking the castle and its occupants both on the walls and in the dungeons beneath. Some of them fell off the walls, plunging to their deaths. The others... Well, the others weren't so lucky.

 

With a cry of what might've passed for joy, the giantess crashed into the guard walls and into part of the castle keep. It gave way like wooden blocks the guards might've played with as children, crumbling and creating a large cloud of grey dust. The guards on the wall who could not get away were obliterated or knocked down, killed by the impact. Those inside the keep suffered a similar fate, smashed to pieces by falling walls and weight.

 

For a moment, there was only the lasting rumble, reverberating throughout- not a one spoke. One man, saved from the wall collapse by quick thinking and movement, began to nock another arrow and take aim and the vague and massive shape of the giantess. The dust, however, was too thick to see through.

 

Was the giantess dead, they wondered? Killed by the impact; dashing her head against the wall?

 

Despite their better judgement and the animal instincts, they approached the gaping hole, waving their hands to try and clear the dust. A whirring sound, like birds in the trees, came out of the hole, following quickly by a moving... Thing. Something... Snakelike.

 

Out of the dust came a large metal tube, pincers at the end snapping. It grabbed one of the closest guards, and dragged him down screaming.

 

The others watched (or rather heard) in horror as he continued to scream and cry out, a low laugh coming from the dust cloud.

 

There was a sickening crunch that ended the screaming, a squelch, and lastly, a prolonged chewing. Bone after bone snapped and blood splattered to the ground far below.

 

"Mmmm," the voice moaned sensually from within the dust.

 

It was starting to clear now, and the visible shape of the giantess came into view. The snakelike appendages, attached apparently to the helmet, whipped about wildly and around her.

 

Her hands came up and grabbed each side of the broken rampart, and she pulled herself up, broken and dashed stones of the castle sliding off her. One guard who was unfortunate enough to be standing close was crushed beneath her fingers.

 

She stood up to her full height, the soldiers enraptured by the sight of this colossus.[13] 

 

She brushed the remnants of the debris from her body, and then opened up her cleavage to let a muddle of rubble and mangled bodies fall down to the ground[14] , her breasts jostling entrancingly as she did so.  At her feet were crushed bricks and dead bodies that stood in the bailey, unlucky enough to not be able to get away.

 

Looking around at her quarry, what might've passed for a smile crept on the lips of the giantess. The snakes at her neck, three of them, whipped wildly and snapped their talons.

 

With surprisingly speed and dexterity, the giantess reached over and plucked one of the spearsmen up from the wall. He flailed wildly and tried to stab her had and wrist with his weapon, but the steel tip broke off. She kissed the tiny now screaming man and lowered him past her stomach.

 

Her pussy, exposed even with the soft pink covering at her hips and thighs, dripped wet with discharge, and the very distinct odor of sex permeated the air as the man was lowered. He felt the warm slickness of silky skin pass his body, and he felt, he thought, the giantess shiver from the touch.

 

Without ado, and unheeding to his cries, the man was shoved into the crevice with a wet slurching[15]  sound. The giantess moaned, beastly and animal like, pleased with her new toy and visitor.

 

Some of the other guards, their courage apparently returning, began to hurl spears and fire arrows at her, the call to arms overriding their fears. Two of the snakes, snapping their mandibles threateningly, turned on the men, despite their steel-tipped arrows doing no harm to their mistress.[16] 

 

One grabbed the closest one, chopping him in half between pincers. Another flung a man into the blue, who would land miles away in the Black Forest at the foot of the mountains.

 

The giantess however took no apparent notice of their deaths- she was still too busy enraptured with her little visitor down south. The snakes themselves seemed to act in their own capacity.

 

After what seemed like several minutes of her pleasuring herself with her unwilling participant, some other soldier got the bright idea to shoot an arrow at her labia. The arrow hit home, and instead of the expected blood pouring out where it struck, it caused the giant to titter and yelp.[17] 

 

Though her features were hidden by her helm, she turned her head and seemed to[18]  stare at the little man who shot the arrow, as did the slithering snakes about her neck. She gritted her teeth at him, and the red lights and burned in the helm seemed to grow even more Crimson.

 

Awestruck, the soldier stood planted on the wall where he stood- he suddenly felt foolish for committing such a wanton act. The giantess released her grip on the legs of the man who was inside of her, but he was stuck there, his legs flailing wildly still. Instead, the giantess took a resounding and tumultuous step towards the wall, and swung her hand and plucked up the guard.

 

The others only watched in horror as the giantess opened her soft pink lips and stuffed the screaming man inside, shutting her mouth with a terrific crunch, a hand flying out into the air after being chomped off.

 

The giantess chewed ponderously, the bones crunching and cracking, the trickle of blood occasionally leaking from the side of her mouth.

 

She swallowed her bite, the skin of her throat bulging where it travelled down to her well-formed stomach.

 

"Mmmm," she moaned, licking her lips and patting her belly. For a moment there was silence, the realization of what had just transpired registering within their minds. They’d never seen anything like it. What kind of beast and monster was this, that man were mere meat to her?

 

“Uuuurg aaawwoow uh?" She queried, perhaps in response to their thoughts, and looking down at the dozens of other soldiers who watched in fascinated and morbid horror. She reached down for another...

 

...and the feast began.

 

Ravenous. Voracious. Excessive. Such could be the words one might use to describe how this giantess, beautiful but deadly, rampaged her way through the cavalcade of the remaining guards. Try as they might to run, they couldn't escape- most were trapped on the wall, and those who were lucky enough to survive the giantess' initial crash into the castle keep peeped about her feet, trying with all earnestness to avoid being crushed or stepped on among the rubble and rocks.

 

By the handfuls she grabbed them, bringing the screaming bunches[19]  up to her mouth. They were unceremoniously shoved in, armor, weapons, small clothes and all, each component adding to the flavor.

 

With her jaws, powerful enough that not even[20]  castle forged plate could withstand the sheering, the bones and skin underneath the armor was pierced and crunched. She easily and greedily chomped down on the men, the gruesome, yet weirdly sensual to some, sight sending chills down the spine of everyone watching.

 

It was a nightmare- no slaughter had ever been experienced like this, not even the veterans among the group who had seen dozens of military campaigns. Years of training, hardened by the fires of trial and experience, all amounted to nothing, naught, but the ignominious death between the teeth of a divine and beautiful giantess.

 

Some of the snakes, still writhing about her at not her neck but at the base of the helmet they realized, sometimes darted and grabbed up the hapless guards. One man who still stood his ground, wielding a spear fruitlessly against the giant, was plucked up by one of the snakes- as soon as it happened, the courage left him and he began to scream and wail like his wife who was hopefully safe within the castle dungeons. He prayed, earnestly and[21]  fervently, that she would be alright, even as he saw the second snake come up and seem to sniff him, even as his bowels released and he messed himself in fear.

 

The first snake, gripping him tightly by the torso, slowed and allowed the second to continue its perusal.

 

An icy fear, despite himself, crept into his nerves and drove him mad. His breathing quickened and he shook like a leaf on a winter's day.

 

Finally, the second gripped him by the legs, and began to pull- did these snakes, these leviathan monsters, intend to fight over him? He felt the pressure mounting, the waste he made sloshing around in his underclothes by his trashing about. With one keeping him firm and the other pulling, he didn't last long- the skin started to tear and he both saw and felt his bowels leak and spill out of him. His screams change from panicked to outright disbelief, and with a final crack of his spine, the two beasts pulling him apart, his eyes darkened and he was no more.

 

The snakes, however, would not let him rest- they vied for position, pushing and shoving the other out of the way, eager to draw closer to their mistress. The mistress, barely swallowing her last bite and reaching down to another, greedily accepted the morsels that her help provided, simply opening her reddened mouth and letting them place the bits onto her tongue.

 

Even as she chewed them, the snakes went for more fleeing people, their jaws snapping terribly and striking fear into their hearts.

 

She was a mountain of destruction, even as she walked. The multitude of bodies at her feet, both living and dead, were smashed into a paste as she walked, sauntering gracefully, unheeding of their silence or their cries equally.

 

The giant tore into the remaining men with child-like abandon- she eagerly snatched up any moving person to stuff into her mouth, the mania of hunger and lust for the taste of blood overcoming any sense of restraint.

 

Occasionally, a tickle with ripple through her lower half, her legs or muscles shifting the tiny being stuck into her pussy ever so slightly and brushing her sex or so pleasurably. She shuddered and moaned softly when this happened, biting her lip- and just for that moment, before she tore back into the meat of men, she looked passing for human emotion or capacity.

 

Her after actions, however, and the hundreds of men that she consumed as if they were naught but bits of meat, dictated otherwise.

 

After what seemed like hours, they had finally tracked down the last of the survivors, who had his themselves in a crevice under a stony rampart. The giantess angrily swiped at the stone, knocking it aside and sending bits of it flying to the fields to her right. There, huddled, were grown men, terrified in what they saw- these were hardened warriors, veterans of dozens of skirmishes- yet here they were, reduced to quivering rabbits out of their element. They clung tenaciously to each other, trying to get behind one another.

 

The giantess laughed and reached down, eager for her next bite to eat. The snakes, now turning their collective attentions to the survivors, did the same, closing in and whirring and snapping and writhing.

 

She plucked them out of their hiding hole, one at a time, placing each in her mouth like shaking little grapes, some of the snakes fighting over one and making a bloody mess of him. The third snake, seemingly idle until now, gripped the last one, a squire to an older knight who had just been devoured, by the leg and whistled high-pitched at the giantess.

 

Her head snapped to attention, focusing her red blinking eyes on the little prey her pet had caught. She regarded it curiously, wondering what could be going on. The snake, as well as it might, nodded its head and pointed its tip into the air, the little man’s leg breaking in the process and him howling bloody murder in the process. The giantess laughed, and then again as the snake tossed the mangled man into the air. He arced very high into the sky, the morning sun finally spilling out from behind the grey morning clouds, shining light on the miasma of blood and destruction. It might’ve been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 

Up he flew, and then down he came, into her waiting mouth- landing with a thud on her tongue, then immediately snatched inside to be chewed to a paste.

 

The giantess swallowed, smiling and licking her lips once again. It was a good meal. But still, her stomach grumbled, and there was more to be had…

 

She looked about and turned her attention to her environs. There was but only one more part of the castle left- her ramming into the wall had destroyed most of the structure, but beyond all reason and much to her delight, the majority of the keep stood firm. Various survivors, some wounded from her onslaught or collateral damage, took flight as soon as they saw her, but she decided to not pursue them.

 

She walked round the keep, it coming up only to her chest in height, her steps making it quiver and shake, some of the spare and loose stones tumbling to the ground and destroying carts or smithees or stables. She saw that there were two parts to the keep: a larger, round hull that no doubt housed the majority of what she wanted (her stomach grumbled as if thinking about it reminded her how hungry she still was), and beyond that, embedded into the wall that connected it, a thinner, taller tower. No doubt, again, that would be where some would be as well.

 

She decided to start, however, with the rounder keep. And trotted towards it, the ground shaking under each step.

 

She then paused, to inspect a warm trickle down her leg- she discovered that, upon inspection, that blood was leaking out from her pussy. Curious, she touched it, causing a leg, dismembered but garbed in the clothes common here, to fall to the ground. It took only anther second to realize what it was.

 

With a laugh, she reached down and scrapped out the now crushed little man from inside her, whipping her fingers so that he flew off and splattered across the ground.

 

She hoped, with a lick of her lips, that she could find a new toy in the keep...

 

***********

 

Knocking the walls in to the keep was like knocking down a tower of rocks- years of engineering was no match for brute strength. She started at the top, punching a wall with a mammoth fist and knocking out a hut-sized hole. It smashed through several walls and not a small amount of people, who were plastered onto her fist or onto the wall.

 

She retracted her hand, and playfully licked the red from her fingers, the dust not imparting too bad of a texture. Still, she wasn't here for perfection in taste- the sweet meats promised by this tiny race was what brought her here in the first place, the promise of crunching bones and the delightful pop of skulls between what passed for her molars.

 

Make no mistake, she enjoyed this status as a giantess among these little beings. She enjoyed it even more with the screams and fear they afforded her.

 

The food was great. The realization that these things saw her as a divine being or monster? Well!

 

Idly she pressed a hand to her engorged labia and found her clit, flicking it back and forth. The little man who she put there (and subsequently scraped out) had been good, but not nearly enough.

 

Her other hand, the one that had bust through the stone wall, groped inside and rooted around for something, anything, to scratch one of those two itches.

 

Her hand pushed through another stone wall, it suddenly giving way and letting her hand through. There, as her fingers probed, she felt something soft... Squishy.

 

Alive and coursing with delicious red blood.

 

She wrapped her fingers around the thing, feeling kicking and scratching and maybe even biting. As she pulled her hand out, she was pleased to find a healthy young man, tears in his eyes and grit teeth, trying his damnedest to get loose from the titaness's grip.

 

She popped him in her mouth, feeling his body give way and come apart under her powerful jaws, salty hot blood squirting onto her tongue and out of her mouth. She chewed to satisfaction, the swallowed, her spare hand stroking herself in time and rhythm with her chewing and swallow.

Stars above, she needed release.

 

But the hunger persisted.

 

She stuck both hands into the keep once again, knocking another hole on the wall to aid her search. Not much was yielded, only a small yappy animal who was hardly more than a quick bite.

 

"Grrraaaaaaaagh." She moaned in frustration.

 

The hunger pangs in her stomach were next to painful, even with her feast at the castle wall. She needed to find something soon, and lots of it. Then the idea hit her.

 

She reached behind her, her hand's proximity revealing a keypad. She typed a quick code, one she had memorized from a previous trip to the dark planet beyond a star's reach. Her eyes, the hellishly red dots of red that covered her face for the purpose of data collection and observation, flickered a myriad of colors, like a rainbow in the dark, then settled on a pale green throughout.

 

To her own eyes, hidden in the helm, she saw the display flash into a dark hue then reconfigure, each outline of structure redrawn in monochromatic splendor.

 

Solid was black, air was light grey. Living flesh, however, stood out, appropriately, a vivid and bright red.

 

A hunter's tool- biometric scanning. Not that anyone under her feet or in her stomach would ever understand this.

 

She stepped back, taking in the wide view of the whole keep. Within the top layers of the stone structure ran scant red figures who tumbled and tripped with every step the giantess took around. Further below, however, in what might've been the dungeons…

 

The giantess got on both knees and began to dig, her stomach rumbling still in anticipation. She dug longways on the side of the castle, careful to find the border of the structure and find the best point of entry. Her nails, already gunked with caked blood and gore from her previous meal, became blacked with the rich and wet soil that surrounded the castle and by extension the fertile land the valley hid. Fairly ironic, had she known that was the very reason they picked this spot- fertility in soil- and that it would be so easy to dig a pit to get to the nutritious meat she sought.

 

Each hand scrape caused the red beings on her display to tremble and move, seemingly tripping over themselves to get away from the wall where the noises came from.

 

On she worked, the snakes doing a bit of work as well, their mandibles doing a poor job of moving earth out of the way.

 

Still, it go done- finally she had been able to dig enough of a pit to come to level with the dungeons. All she had to do was break the wall, and her belly would be filled...

 

**************

 

Janice, the miller's young and eligible daughter of nineteen, was absolutely, positively, mind-numbingly terrified. She along with her family and several others from the village had been whisked away from their homes not shorty after that knight (the cute one, with the short stubble and the long hair) came racing into the castle bailey like a demon. He had swept away into the castle not long after, but almost instantly, just as Janice had threw the waste bucket to her family's sow, the alarm bell sounded and everyone was directed into the castle dungeons.

 

Down here: cold, wet, but safe.

 

Until now.

 

The castle's walls had made her feel so safe as a child, but now, the dungeon wall rumbling, the dust from the overhang and the occasional dropping debris changed all of that.

 

The crowd only yelped at first, confused by the distant scraping noise that seemed so far off. Then, as the ground shook, as the walls trembled with each scrape and eventual pounding, the crowd was restless- scared, like rats on a drowning ship. They debated among themselves, like madmen chained to the wall, whether they should leave.

 

It had almost come to blows when the cave in happened, however- a thud from the outside dislodged a very large stone, a basement boulder used for the foundation of the keep, right onto the guard who was guarding the door. When it settled, they had discovered to their abject terror that the boulder, seeping with the blood of the crushed guard, had blocked the swinging gate from opening.

 

Terror overtook them. The elderly and weak were trampled to death, men and women alike pressed against walls and suffocated, the din only growing louder with each pounding of the wall from the outside.

 

Finally, from the pounded wall light spilled through and the wall gave way. There was a momentary silence, one that might've last two seconds or two hours- and then, their nightmares come to full fruition, an enormous hand and two monstrous snakes came through the hole and started to pull them out. The screams began anew.

[22] 

*****************

It was a good meal- a little hard to get to, but good nonetheless. She had found the little people cowering inside of the dungeon, and when the last stone had been pulled away from the wall, she lost herself and started literally shoving people into her mouth. Bones crunched between teeth, blood salted her tongue, and she tasted the sweetest of meats as she chewed to satisfaction.

 

Stars above, the taste. The sweet taste of salt and saccharine, the warm blood filling her mouth with each bite and washing over her teeth. The screams that filled her ears were music.

 

For the entire time it took to clear out the dungeon, she was in ecstasy. A sexual lust that filled both her stomach and made her pussy ache. She grabbed one, a pretty little thing who was called Janice to her friends, and with one hand brought her down to her open panties and started to rub her against herself.

 

Oh such feeling! A full mouth and a filled cunt. As she chewed, she rubbed, her little screams drown out in the crunch of bones and waves of sexual fluid that covered her.

 

It was, eventually, too much- her fingers at the back of this little bitch's back pressed too hard, and snapped the spine within her. The giantess felt this, and grunted.

 

What a useless toy.

 

Instead of dropping her, the giantess brought her to her mouth and put her in as well- the crunch of bones and splash of salty blood was accompanied by a familiar sourness, one that a giantess had tasted many a time before.

 

Waste not, want not. The sexual thrill had abated (for now), and her belly was full.

 

Still, the giantess stood back up, clicking the back of her helm for yet another deep scan, searching for those red telling signs.

 

Scant, scattered. She had killed most of them, she realized.

 

A good meal.

 

The castle stood there, almost completely empty and just an outline, some red figures (none even worth the effort) running about. She was about to drive into the keep once more and crumble it to dust when she felt a sharp pang on her cheek.

 

Her eyes, aided by the target acquisition system present in her helmet, caught a fall arrow that landed at her feet (which, by the way, had tread on the bodies of some hapless tiny people). Curious.

 

Another hit her, and the computer directed her to the far side of the keep- the tower, thin and lithe but still formidable- to little people, anyhow.

 

On it, her computer displayed something interesting- three red figures and... A flash in green one?

Red indicated blood.

 

Green, however, indicated... DNA recognition?

 

She thought about that, swiping another arrow out form the sky. Where had she…

 

Ah, she remembered- there was a king here at this same castle, one they had took not so long ago. She smiled at the thought- they had taken the time, after their... Exploits, to scan him through a myriad of tests. She supposed, as she put on the helmet, that such data would be uploaded to her bank.

 

The scanner then, recognized a connection then. His daughter maybe? His wife?

 

How delightful.

 

With a grin, she walked towards the tower, it shaking and quaking with every footstep.

 

Arrows rained on her with a rapidity now, even so she couldn't even feel them. The tower, she found, was at an equal height with herself- her head was face level with the balcony from which the green woman and three reds fired their bows.

 

She reached behind her, and clicked the display back to normal view. Before her eyes, stood four- two very well dressed noblemen, each shaking in their suede boots, a hardened knight with a scar down the length of his face (bow in hand with an arrow nocked and drawn), and a scowling woman, aged but beautiful, standing defiant and ready as if she were just as tall and a giantess herself.

 

It was quick- as the knight fired once more, the giantess' hand came up to block the arrow- the snakes at her back charged forward, grabbing each nobleman by the chest and tossing them aside, falling to their deaths at the giantess' feet. As the knight nocked one more, her had shot out to make a grab for him- he dodged the first, but the second time, he was plucked up, and brought to the giant's face in a fist.

 

"Uuurrreggggaaah...? Grah!" she roared.

 

She squeezed, the pressure building and building. The armor offered some protection, but not for long.

 

The knight struggled, and soon began to wail. The pressure mounted, a sadistic grin on the giantess' lips.

 

The armor gave, and the shards of it sank deeply into the flesh of the knight. On she squeezed.

 

He couldn't breathe. He started to go blind. He felt the metal shards piercing ever deeper into him.

Something within him gave, and some muscle unseen tore.

 

Blood began to squirt out from him, and something oozed out of his ass. Blood welled up in his mouth, the shock of pain that shot through him numbed him to anything else.

 

The giantess released him, and he fell, the light slipping from his eyes, and he finally died by the time he reached the ground.

 

She watched in delight as the body splattered across the ground, and out of curiosity, she dragged her toe around in it.

 

When she was finished, she turned her attention to her last captive- the snakes had already anticipated her needs and had oh so gently plucked her up and suspended her by her arms. Urine slid down the captured woman's leg.

 

"I'm sorry, by the gods I'm sorry!" She wept. "Please, by the gods, have mercy! Don't kill me."

 

The giantess, sensing her distress, let a placid smile creep over her face and she reached out, dragging a finger across the body of this tiny woman, as if to comfort her from her inevitable and very rapidly approaching death.

 

"Oooowaaaag." The giantess croaked, and then laughed. Was that supposed to comfort her.

 

"Just... Just leave me be. Please."

 

The giantess chuckled and took the tiny woman in hand.

 

She sat down onto the already partial destroyed keep, and onto the numerous bodies that had once inhabited the castle. The giantess sat in such a way as to lean back slightly, and spread her legs.

 

The queen realized just what was happening- and, following suit, she began to panic.

 

"No, gods, no!"

 

"No?" The giantess mimicked, laughing.

 

The queen was lowered down, down to where the aroma was most heady. The set of lips the giantess had were soft and moist-looking, already swollen from previous visitors and red with blood.

 

The giantess, with the tenderness of a lover, brushed the queen against her sex, flicking the clitoris and making her moan.

 

She began to rub. Swilling motions, back as forth. A build up began- one that had needed time fulfilled from the beginning. One that the guard couldn't satisfy, nor could the miller's daughter.

 

"Ugh...ugh... Ugh..." The giantess moaned, almost sensually.

 

The queen was becoming a hot and sticky mess, the fluids covering her and getting everywhere. She struggled to keep it out of her mouth, and spat constantly. She began to cry. How foolish of her- was she really so naive as to take on a being that could crush a man on horseback with only a single step, or eat a man whole like he was a bite of chicken? Stupidity. How foolish.

 

She began to weep- her kingdom was doomed, her king and love gone. No doubt eaten by this one and the other.

 

The giantess, paying no heed to the tiny woman's cries, moaned in pleasure. It was almost time.

Shifting her hands, she flipped the tiny queen over, dress and all, and began to thrust her into herself.

 

It set her over the edge! Each thrust, each brush of the nerve sensitive skin within her pussy screamed in pleasure and brought her closer to climax.

 

The keep she sat on began to shift, settle under the weight of such a large being. Compounded with the in and out thrusting, the castle was likely to break.

 

Upwards she flew- ecstatic, heavenly. With each push and pull came new feelings, that trip towards the point of no return.

 

With one final pull out, the queens hand brushing and grabbing at her bean, she exploded.

 

The orgasm came quick, the giantess writhing her body and biting her lips and yelping.

 

The keep, unable to handle such movement, began to crumble and break apart, the giantess falling backwards into the structure and killing any remaining inhabitants, smashing them against and between stones.

 

She drifted back, tiny woman still in tow. She lay there for a moment, feeling only the wonderful post-orgasm satisfaction and wriggling of her tiny passenger.

 

It was great. She was satisfied. Her belly was full, the itch now scratched... She was almost sad to leave. She could have lain there forever.

 

At least, until, the tiny being bit her.

 

It didn't hurt, no, but it was annoying.

 

She brought her up to her face, grinning and licking her lips.

 

The queen, covered in filth and sex and fluid, wept and beat her fists on the hand of the giantess.

 

"Uuurraagh?" The giantess queried, and then began to lick the tiny woman, cleaning her off of juices and sex and fear. She trembled at the tongues touch, which pleased her all the more.

 

Tasty. Too tasty.

 

Too tasty to pass up.

 

With a quick bite, the screaming queen was placed into the mouth. There she sat, yelling and beating her hands and trying desperately hard to not slide down the throat.

 

The giantess, for fun, swished her around her mouth, back and forth.

 

She unintentionally salivated, diminishing the flavor, and so she committed and bit down on the woman.

 

Salty blood, sweet meat, crunchy bones, savory guts. Delicious.

 

Turns out she had room for one more it seemed.

 

She took her time chewing, making sure every bit of the woman was mashed to satisfaction. Only twice did she have to pick out a bone that simply would not crack.

 

Finally she swallowed, patting her stomach. A good snack.

 

The morning sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and lazily, feeling the local sun's warmth radiate on her skin, she drifted off to sleep, eager to get a nap in. When she woke up, she would have to clear out this area. But she thought, palming her already sensitive clitoris playfully, that could wait.

 

**Undefeatable**

 

The bell rang, clanging out among the stunned patrons- the match was absolutely over. One by one, then in droves, applause erupted in both the stadium seating and standing areas next to the various arenas.

 

The Best Breast Festival, an amalgamation of several simultaneous matches of mammary martial moxie, had at one given time multiple events going on- volley ball, cup crusher, all time favorite 'surrender,' and of course, Tit Fight- the unholy lesbian-leaning marriage of boxing and breasts that arguably brought over most of their crowds. 

 

The concluding fight, however, was a special one- firstly it was a Tit Fight, a crowd favorite. Secondly, it pitted a spunky (but ultimately inferior) redhead with F cups against Brittany, a stunningly tall brunette with astounding P cups- the pair of knockers clocking in at an astounding total of 60 pounds (about 28 kilograms in international tournaments, but she didn't like to advertise the smaller number). 

 

The match was short but brutal- essentially all the other events paused or stopped to witness the fight, even the game master of the event announcing it over the loudspeaker. The redhead, her mane of Crimson following her like some phosphor dot, jumped and leapt and struck down with her considerables, trying her damnedest to be the swift, knowing this was where her advantage lay. Brittany, however, was no novice- using her hands under and her breasts as gloves, nimbly dodged several blows and countered with her own. A few jabs, uppercuts, and her opponent slowed- finally, the haymaker of the night connected smack onto the side of her face, knocking her sprawling to the ground, making her taste copper and be not a little woozy. 

 

The pixied-cut brunette grinned and smirked like hubris, whooping and jumping up and down, much to the delight of some of the crowd. 

 

"And the winner," announced a hearty resounding voice that smacked something of Vegas title fights, "of this match is the reigning champion, retaining her title, Brittanyyyyyyyyyyyzillaaaaaaaaauuuuuhhh." 

 

Another round of applause, yelling and whooping. She basked in it, it making the pit in her stomach fill with addictive butterflies. 

 

"Fuck yeah," Brittany cried triumphantly, fists pumping into the air. She turned to her fallen opponent, who was just coming to, someone next to her- perhaps a boyfriend or trainer. She promptly gave the both-hand-bird to her would-be challenger, who gave a sour look at her- she responded in kind.

 

"Can't handle these boys, bitch!" She squeezed her chest seductively to accent the point. "Come back when you've got some meat on those bones."

 

The redhead wiped away a tear, sniffling malcontent at her once-opponent. Such was the third challenger this evening, and each had bitten the dust at Brittany's feet, in Tit Fight, Cup Crusher, and other games. 

 

As it stood, Brittany had the most points in the game- some three thousand five hundred; a grand gratis for being the champion of the last tourney, and the rest from matches in the various games, challengers (who double-or-nothinged their points for challenging more awarded participants), and exhibitions. Most of the participants had closer to a grand and a half, give or take- other players could challenge Brittany if they reached five hundred below her score- so three thousand. The redhead was one such, but as a result of her loss, she forfeited nearly half her points in the process. Each participant started with five hundred, and match winners were awarded another five hundred each for a win, a two hundred fifty penalty for each loss, and halving of points for each lost challenge to a higher rival. 

 

The redhead, her nose bleeding the same color as her hair, grimaced- she would challenge no more this night- even so, not that any referee would allow for it once blood was drawn. 

 

Such blood Brittany relished- she had a bit of a mean streak... Well, in fact, many would call her a right foul bitch- although, that label was worn with pride. No one could blame her- she was great at what she did, devil may care who thought what of her. In a world where such stuff was idealized, mental and emotional capacity took a backseat to physical- and it showed. Like the world powers of old, he with the bigger gun got the respect and hate- though now, she with the bigger rack got those prizes. 

 

Brittany turned round about face, walking back to her coach with awaited with a water bottle and towel. 

 

"How was that?"

 

"That was great, Brit, top notch. You really laid her out!"

 

The breast-blessed woman smirked something awful at that, clearly agreeing.

 

"Damn right I did." She took a swig of the water bottle, one that was plastered all over with her a sponsor's label. She wiped her face with a towel and took another swig, walking over to a folding chair that had been set up for her pleasure. Popping a squat, she harrumphed down and took a glance at her opponent- former opponent, rather- upstart out to make a name for herself. The girl was being comforted by what now seemed, judging by her embrace, boyfriend or husband. 

 

Whimpering like a puppy, tears falling from her eyes.

 

God, how she loved it. Loved it so much. Loved it as much as the power she felt, power like the thunder than now rolled outside the stadium, humming and thrumming. 

 

"So then," Brittany began again, scratching her breast and setting her drink between her cleavage, "what's next? How far ahead am I of everyone else?"

 

The coach, a bald man who might very well have been mistaken for her father (some tabloids reported it as so in fact), wiped the beaded sweat from his forehead. The thunder outside rolled again. Odd, she thought, it's the middle of summer. Rains don't come until later. 

 

"Well, you're about, uh, fifteen hundred points ahead of pretty much everyone." Sweat again beaded his brow. Brittany saw there was something else, and her mind grew red as her impatience waxed.

 

"...and?" She let the word hang out with a snarl that might curdle milk. 

 

Thunder rolled once again- louder than ever, closer than ever. A few people gasped.

 

"Well, you're safe but... There's..." He smiled sheepishly, "there's been a bit of a late entry."

 

A quizzical look passed upon her face. Late entry? That was ridiculous- through the years he's been competing, never have there been allowances made for late entries. 

 

Unless, of course, there were extenuating circumstances. Something unique about this entry.

 

Another gasp, this time eliciting a look from Queen Brittany. She about fell of her folding chair when she saw.

 

The largest woman she had ever seen was walking through the crowds... No, parting them with each step. At first Brittany thought it might have been an optical illusion, but...

 

No, she thought, suddenly shutting her mouth she realized was hanging agape, that girl is big. Fucking huge.

 

"Who in the hell..."

 

************

 

Brianna was more than pleased with the result of the timing of her little entrance- she had deliberately waited until the challenge match with Brittany was over, and then made slow and deliberate footsteps over to where the crowd had gathered to cheer. Each step created a ponderous sort of thrum, resonating even through the concrete and steel that was the stadium- even if she did have to stomp just a little. 

 

The crowd had parted for her like the biblical times of old, lending her a clear path to where Brittany now sat. 

 

She was a petite little thing now, she realized- even with her huge breasts weighing her down. With her frame of six something, P cup boobs and the seemingly eternal smug smirk that plastered on her lips, Brittany was still formidable- but only small. Petite. Brianna, however, was nothing to scoff at- she stood an astounding 13 feet tall, had (proportionally) I cups, and had a mop of tangled and curly black hair tied back into a pony tail, a mark of her Greek heritage, and, if tabloids were to be believed, evidence of Titan blood. 

 

She chuckled at the thought- she was only half Greek, on her Oma's side. Truth be told, Brianna was not stuck at a minimum of 13 feet by way of an accident in the lab. She was once a freshman research assistant for a brilliant chemist at her university- the doctor had been working on molecular weight and mass alteration when Brianna, only a mousy little flat chest, was caught in a matter alteration chamber. Terror filled her mind, but when all was said and done, she emerged out of the chamber not only alive and well, but changed. Over the next few days, she grew taller, wider, and most delightfully, her breasts had ballooned up. Not only that, but she found she was able to grow to practically any height above 13 feet at will- up to nearly 2000 feet, in one case involving catching a falling plane.  And naturally, the only thing a young lady of her stature and ability could do was going into moonlighting as a superheroine- so she did. At night, she was Biggun Brianna, defender of the weak, rescuer of the helpless, stomper of evil! And in the day, she was... Well, still all of those things- but she preferred to wear skirts and flip flops instead of tights and a mask (weather permitting, of course).

 

Despite the change, despite the terror that had accompanied it, she dug it. She liked being big, being a giant. She liked being able to help people in their need, rescue cats from trees, and, especially, be paid absurd amounts of money to do it. But yeah, sure, that whole altruism thing worked too. 

 

Brushing and hair out of her eyes and adjusting her thick black glasses (by fakes- whatever happened to her in the lab, she could have sworn her vision got worse in fact), she continued her romp towards Brittany, who stood out of her chair and scowled something fierce. She sensed an ill will in those eyes. 

 

"Fe, fi, fo, fum," Brittany said, folding her arms across her prodigious chest, "what beanstalk did you fall from?"

 

Brianna rolled her eyes- that was a new one.

 

"Tough talk for someone who's half my size."

 

She continued her walk up to the tiny woman, who, admirably, stood her ground. 

 

Confident, Brianna saw. Very confident.

 

As in response, Brittany motioned back to the redhead who was now skulking away. 

 

"Well, I've got the chops to prove it. What do you want, Big Tit Bri?"

 

Straight to the point, she thought. This girl was something else.

 

"I want to challenge you. I don't like the way you've been lording it over all these other girls, just because you've got the biggest and hardest tits here. One match, for your title." She smirked. "Or should I say 'TIT-le?'"

 

For split second, there was a look of panic in Brittany's eyes, but it was gone in an instant- not quick enough for Brianna to fail to notice. The hard exterior was back just as quick.

 

"Well, that's... That's fine!" She barked sharply. "I don't have a problem with that. But two things..." She screwed up her face and then smiled.

 

"First, though," she began, a smile creeping back onto her lips, "how many points do you have, dear?"

 

"Dear?" Came the slightly indignant query from above. She frowned and groaned. "I have 500. Why?"

 

Brianna smirked, and, if one was paying very close attention, relaxed her fists. 

 

"Well ain't that a shame. You can't challenge me yet straight off." She scoffed and looked this giantess up and down, from head to toe. She was dressed in a bikini with a special bra just for her, like most of the participants at the festival, designed to keep her boys from escaping. "You don't have enough points. By my count, you've still got to get two thousand five hundred before you can even approach me." Then, feeling saucy, "what, you think just because you're some two bit walking wrecking ball hero, you can just waltz in and do whatever you want? How arrogant."

 

Anger flashed and Brianna felt the red color rising to her cheeks. 

 

This bitch, she thought.

 

Brittany however, simply brushed her hair back and folded her arms back together. 

 

"Them's really rules, kid." She squinted her eyes and a devilish smile happened upon. "You're only what, nineteen, right?"

 

A few people in the audience, once loyal supporters of either side, laughed in concurrence. 

 

It was true- Brianna was young, only twenty, in fact. And yet here she was, being mocked by someone who was half her size but five years her senior. 

 

The color rose to Brianna's cheeks once again, furious. She knew in all reality she could handle this girl- just one quick growth spurt and foot stomp and she'd be jelly, toe jam. But no... That was too quick. Too final.

 

"And second, why are you here?" The question was odd, jarring, but practical. "You've got all the money you need. Why take the grand prize here?"

 

Now it was Brianna's turn to feel superior- she leaned over slightly, letting her height and enormous, heavy breasts jiggle with each motion, trying her best to lean closer in and over the now seemingly puny woman.

 

"It's not about the prize money, honey..." Brianna reached over and brushed a hair out of her face. She smiled saccharinely and fluttered her gorgeous green eyes. "It's about letting flat little bitches like you know your place."

 

The crowd exploded- cheers and japes ad whoops and catcalls rang from every single direction imaginable, but it was of no consequence to the two girls. A bomb could have gone off next to them, and it would have made precisely no difference- think of a locked embrace, lost in each other's eyes, present and future melded into one glorious now and forever. 

 

Now, imagine it with murderous intent. 

 

Brianna was the first to break off the eye contact, standing tall once again and turning about face.

 

"You just wait right there, darling," she called back to her tiny friend, "I'll come for you right away, right after I, heh, earn the right to challenge you."

 

Some whoops and cheers followed her, others went over to Brittany's side. Reassuring backslapping, shoulder squeezes, and third party trash talk abound, all intent to comfort her despite this, this fiend, this impudent upstart. 

 

Despite their intent, Brittany, still queen of all she surveyed in the realm of mammary combat, felt a pale chill creep through her spine.

 

*****************

 

Finding the first challenge was by now means difficult. Even as Brianna, suddenly struck with a wonder of what to actually do, surveyed the arena for open exhibitions, she saw someone bound towards her in an eager trot, her (relatively) modest F cups bouncing like mad. 

 

"Hey! Hey Brianna!" Brianna looked down to see a cheery little blonde that only came up to her waist beam up at her with a white and dazzling smile. Of course, after only a quick glance at her, Brianna was surprised to find that her teeth weren't the only dazzling thing about her. 

 

Flowing golden locked that framed a shapely Nordic face and spilled down onto her shoulders and chest like a summer waterfall, sapphire blue eyes that shimmered and sparkled like oceanic gems, and, lastly, a pair of well proportioned breasts that complimented her very well. 

 

Pretty, Brianna thought, feeling a tang of jealousy. Very pretty. This was the kind of girl I wanted to be in high school... But even so...

 

She looked down at her breasts, again so modest in comparison. 

 

In a world of giants with G, H, I, and hell, even P cup boobs, what could this girl hope to achieve? 

 

"H-hi," Brianna finally managed to spit out. "Nice to meet you. What's your-"

 

"I'm Erica! Nice to meet you too!" She practically vibrated off of the ground. "I've always wanted to new you in person... You saved my life!"

 

Brianna perked up at this. Maybe that was why this girl was here. 

 

"Oh, I did?" Brianna said, embarrassingly pushing a lock of hair out of the way, "well, I'm glad I could help. When was it?"

 

"It was the plane incident. You know, the one outside of Boston? You got really, really big!"

 

Brianna smiled at the remembering. She did indeed get really really big- almost a half of a mile tall, in fact- she had done so in order to catch a falling plane out of the sky when it suffered a catastrophic system failure. She had literally caught the plane out of the sky in her hands, all the while trying desperately to not step on anything or any one (she later had to fork over the dough on insurance to a rancher who had after owned some very very flat cows- the hamburger joke Brianna had made did not go over as well as she had hoped).

 

"Oh, yeah, I remember that. That was scary. You were on that plane? Wow. I don't think I've met anyone who was on there, except the captain... I hope you didn't have too bad a flight?"

 

Erica laughed, a melodious sound. Chimes ringing in the fall wind.

 

"It was fine when you showed up. I remember being with my little sister when you caught us- she looked out the window and saw your face- she asked me if you were an angel. And then, once you knew we were safe, you kissed the plane- she thought you were going to eat us!"

 

Brianna couldn't help but laugh, almost doubling over. She put her hand over and touched Erica on the shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. 

 

"Ha ha, well, I certainly didn't mean to scare everyone, least of all your kid sister. I think I was kind of relieved myself that I had caught you- I've never gone that big before then." She turned around, waving at Erica goodbye. "You'll have to tell your sister that I'm sorry- take care, Erica!"

 

"But wait!"

 

Brianna turned around, thinking she might want an autograph perhaps. It happened occasionally. 

 

"Wait," she continued. "I want to challenge you," she finished. 

 

Brianna was just as shocked as when she realized that she had actually caught the plane in midair.

 

"Wait, seriously?"

 

"Seriously," Erica huffed, a little more playfully than indignant. "I'm gonna be the next champion here. And what better way to start than to go for the other girls who are aiming for the top, right?" She smiled at the tall woman not unfriendly like. "You know, like you did."

 

Big Bri returned the smile and walked back over.

 

"I suppose you're right, Erica... Still, she continued, "I'm not gonna lose to you, even if I did save your life."

 

"And I'm not gonna lose to you, even though you did save my life! Thanks for that again, by the way."

 

"Totally, anytime. So, little Erica... Did you have a challenge in mind?"

 

*************************

Shared Squat- in retrospect, it probably wasn't the most fair that Erica had picked this one. The object of the game, simply enough, was to see who could do the most squats in one minute. Simple enough, right? Right. But here, at the Best Breast Festival, the only sporting event to currently be endorsed by President Trump, things must be complicated. Really complicated. Right? I know complicated. Believe me, folks. I've worked with complicated. Make complicated great again. 

 

The kicker was that each participant was given an extra vest that was the same weight as her opponents combined breast weight. Erica, despite her sincere belief that she was superior in terms of breast size, only added a mere ten pounds to Brianna's weight- a paltry sum. Alternatively, making Brianna feel almost guilty, the amount of weight added to Erica's vest was... Well...

 

Brianna was technically an I cup, only weighing about, proportionally, 10 pounds each. However, since Brianna was roughly twice the size of Erica, every volume, surface, or mass is multiplied by 8. Meaning, each of Brianna's knockers weighed a staggering 80 pounds each, meaning 160 heavy, sweaty, booby pounds was added to Erica's vest. 

 

Brianna watched, mixed feelings abound, as the light drained from Erica's beautiful blue eyes. On one hand, she felt bad that Erica had made what was probably a very brave but very... ill conceived decision. On the other hand, easy points- Brianna would get all of Erica's points if... Or rather, she thought grimly, when she won the contest. 

 

They got into position, opposite from each other across an match floor, Brianna lightly walking across and Erica staggering over. A whistle sounded and... And...

 

Erica tipped over almost immediately trying to rise again from her first admittedly admirable squat. It seemed easy enough to go down with the first squat, but coming up, not so much. 

 

Watching all this, not without a hint of schaudenfruede (ok, in fact, a lot), Brianna calmly bent her legs, shifted her arms, and then rose up again to her full height. And then, once seeing Erica struggling to get up once again, did another. And another. And yet another. And still another.

 

Soon it became easy just to keep doing them. She really liked Erica, and she knew she ought to help her, help her like he did at the plane incident, but...

 

This was just too fun. The power, the ability. The fact that it was just so easy for her. She felt like she was a giant again, little people (or villains, rather) right at her toes- able to do anything with them that she wanted. Overwhelming, complete domination. 

 

Hiding her smile, she continued her squatting, her numbers now reaching the high double digits.

 

Soon, the bell rang, and the spectacle was over- Erica doubled over, exhausted. Brianna, simply taking off the weights and letting them drop onto the floor with much din, started to walk over to her while glancing at the score board. A rush of thrill and dare she say pleasure washed over her.

 

Erica: 2 squats.

Brianna: 78 squats.

 

Holy shit, she thought. I completely slaughtered her. 

 

But was that any surprise? No.

 

"Well well, Erica... Looks like I didn't eat you while you were on the plane... But I certainly devoured you here!" Despite her better sense, she grinned widely at the now supine girl, who was huffing and puffing and having one of the many medics present examine her. Victory was a lot sweeter than she would think- hell, one might even have proposed that Brianna enjoyed dominating the bombshell blonde. 

 

Erica waved a hand at her and chuckled.

 

"I had you on the ropes. Now..."

 

She sat up, her face, still gorgeous and pretty and shapely and lovely, red from exertion. 

 

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for an autograph for my sister, could I? For a consolation prize, perhaps?"

 

********************

 

500 points, one duck-faced selfie, and a filched registration paper with a very large set of lip imprints later ("sorry you thought I was gonna eat you :(" ) later, Brianna had continued walking down the exhibition aisle looking for a challenge. 

 

She watched with amusement the various girls and their chests slamming into each other with abandon- Tit Fight, Surrender!, and, her personal favorite, Motorboat Mayhem. There was one set of tables at the end of the hall, however, that had caught her particular attention. 

 

Whatever it was, it was loud. And fast. As she walked over, she spied that two women, each situated at their own table, were crab shuffling all around them, slamming their breasts hard, like, really really hard down onto what looked like little white cups on a bunch of tables. The tables would buckle under the repeated weight, and cups, now crushed flat, would often stick to the under breasts of the participants.  

 

My god, this is weird, a small voice in Brianna's head said. 

 

As weird as a girl who grows tall enough to catch planes, responded another, more reasonable part of her. 

 

She walked on over, letting people move out of her way, none of them really wanting to stand in the way of someone who could very conceivably step on them if they chose to. 

 

Th crowd seemed to notice her arrival, and some even turned their attention away from the display of her mammorial prowess to glance at the tall drink of water that stood among them. 

 

Brianna, however, simply watched the match. One of the girls, a girl with long, braided, black hair with blonde highlights, looked to be on a roll- with each step there was a smooth action of the lifting the breasts or slamming them down, every two steps some half dozen cups would be smashed flat. The motion looked practiced, well-oiled; it seemed as though Brianna were watching a G-cup engine pump and pivot perfectly. The other girl, some brunette with a pixie cut and H cups, simply couldn't compete. She managed to smash the styrofoam at an admirable rate, but the after not a few steps, her movements tired and seemed to slow. Sweat beaded the participant's brow, and she began to wear an expression of tight-lipped anxiety as she plodded onwards. 

 

Switching back to the black-blonde girl, she saw that no perspiration marred her forehead. In fact, it seemed like this girl had trained for the event, and maybe even did this one exclusively.

 

A wicked smile crossed Brianna's full lips.

 

Perfect. What better way to advance than beat someone at their own game? Humiliation a bonus.

 

Watching became observation then, and soon enough, victory was achieved.

 

"And the winner of this match is, standing at five eleven, clocking in at G cup," the Vegas prizefighter announcer bellowed once more, "Ampleeeeeeee Amberrrrrrrr."

 

The crowd cheered, and in their euphoria, they rushed in, eager to congratulate their champion. 

 

For a moment, Brianna saw, herself staying back to wait for the right moment to challenge, double. She could have sworn that... Wait, no. She wasn't seeing double- another girl, rushing much faster (or being let in, she offered to herself) was another girl with black hair with blonde highlights, the same exact hairstyle.

 

Except, no, that wasn't quite right... This girl seemed to have... Yes, seemed to have blonde hair with black highlights. Dark lights. Black lights?

 

The two hairstyles embraced each other, each of them wiggling an jumping and making a merriment, singularly unique from the crowd. Brianna found herself puzzled by such a display, at least, until the two girls turned her direction. 

 

Again, that double vision, but no- twins. Ample Amber, it seemed, had a twin sister. 

 

She contemplated this, until she realized that most of the crowd was staring at her, some excitedly, others anxiously, all of them mouthing words and mumbling predictions and here say and prophecy. 

 

The two girls, looking at each other for a split second and nodded subtly to each other, began to push their way through the visionary throng and towards their towering visitor, their four G cups swaying and jiggling in the air.

 

She steeled herself.

 

"We saw your match with Erica," the one that was not Amber started. 

 

"It was a good one- a bit one sided, but-" Amber said, 

 

"That's to be expected," the other again.

 

Then both: "right?"

 

It was like left or right- which did she talk to first?

 

"Uh," Brianna stammered, "yeah. I guess that's right. But she didn't know what she was getting into."

 

"Ooh, well,"

 

"That's too bad. Maybe next time"

 

"She'll choose someone not so obviously"

 

"Out of her weight class,"

 

Both: "right?"

 

Good Lord, that was weird. Brianna lost track of who had been speaking. 

 

"Ummm. Yeah." She swallowed, a complicated process made plain to any casual observer with could see her throat. "Listen, guys, Amber and, uh,"

 

"Morgan!" Both chimed in, further eluding any hope of distinguishing the two. Then, mercifully, blonde-black spoke up.

 

"Mega Morgan, at your service!" She winked and saluted Brianna, who suppressed a snort- did these girls practice their shenanigans in front of a mirror?

 

"Sure, Amber and Morgan. Listen, I've got a date with Brittany later on tonight for the title. But first, I need some points- what do you say we do a match? All your combined points for all mine. And of course," she said with a smirk, "we can do Cup Crusher. If you'd like." 

 

Her words hung on the air, and the nervousness grew palpable. Bri was about to say something again when the two sisters roared with laughter and hugged each other in a weirdly intimate embrace. 

 

"Do you hear that, Morgan? I think Biggun Brianna wants to"

 

"Challenge us! It seems that way, Amber. But a problem arises, doesn't it? For one, there's"

 

"Two of us, and one of her- that seems to be a problem. If we each did"

 

"One hundred cups, yes, the disadvantage would"

 

"Go to us, wouldn't it? And that"

 

"Wouldn't be fair, no, not at all."

 

Brianna was becoming unnerved, in more ways than one. She's heard of twins being in sync with each other before, but this was something else.

 

"And so," the one continued, "it would have to be one hundred cups for her, and"

 

"Fifty each for us, yes! That way, the numbers are"

 

"Equal!"

 

They giggled and tittered together, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Some of the crowd, gathered together to witness the trash talk that so many of them were here for exclusively, laughed as well- none of them truly understanding how complex the speech was. Brianna, however, was not laughing. In fact, Brianna was losing her patience, and no amount of he he ha ha ho ho could fix that. 

 

"Okay, guys that's fine," she huffed, "but can we please just-"

 

"Get on with the match?" Both chirped, followed by the roar of laughter, and Brianna felt the red rise to her cheeks. Again, that urge to grow and simply pop them under her toes came back. 

 

As she calmed herself down and reminded herself that murder was still indeed frowned upon by general society and yes, even illegal, one of them spoke again.

 

"We accept," she cried, smiling widely. "Mega Morgan and Ample Amber will play match of" 

 

"Cup Crush with you. But it's rather"

 

"Ironic, don't you think? Here you are"

 

"Thinking to challenge us at our own game, something"

 

"We've trained for weeks"

 

"Months"

 

"Years to become very proficient at, and here you are"

 

"Giving us the advantage. Talk about"

 

"Punching above your weight class! It seems like you've"

 

"Made the mistake of poor old Erica, haven't you? You're getting into something you"

 

"Aren't fully prepared to do,"

 

"Right?" Both cried out.

 

"Wrong!"

 

The bark issued from Brianna turned the twins and crowd to ice, and Brianna could have died then and there and she would've done so without regret. Gratifying as hell. 

 

"You're wrong, tweedledee and tweedledum." She felt the courage go back into her. "I know exactly what I'm doing. In fact," she said, setting her hands on shapely hips, "I think we should up the stakes a little bit. Oh come on, you didn't really think a woman who could catch a plane out of the sky didn't know herself? Get real, guys."

 

The twins looked at each other cautiously.

 

"Let's have a little fun- if you guys agree to it, that is. How about," she set a finger to her pouted lips, "I get to crush a thousand cups, while you two only so your two hundred. How does that sound?"

 

She chuckled and leaned down. 

 

"Unless, of course, you think I'm still punching above my weight."

 

**********************

It took not but five minutes to adjust the tables for height and amount, and a dozen volunteers from the crowd to lay out the extra nine hundred cups. The crowd had grown to quite the substantially number, with the initial showdown with Brittany and her frankly anticlimactic fight with Erica prompting further inquiry. Brianna, taking her stance at the modified tables, did a quick glance around the multitude to see if a certain bitchy blonde was watching. No dice. 

 

Still, her audience not as now important, she was able to focus on the upcoming challenge. 

 

 

?!?!?!?

 

Despite her bravado, sometimes Brianna wished that her mouth didn't run faster than her brain. Suggesting she take on one thousand cups was, to be sure, full of delicious, high caloric high fat full of gluten dramatic, sometimes she wished that she hadn't even so quick to do so. Make no mistake, Brianna knew full well that she could take these girls and any other flat chested little woman any time or day of the week- but boy howdy, did she have to cut it so close?

 

No matter- the gears were set in motion and she couldn't back out now- not with so much at stake here. At the referee's behest, the three girls got into position in front of their tables- each one situated and poised to begin the contest with a mighty slam. 

 

Another glance over at her competitors- both smiling and looking at each other, as if they truly were in psychic sync and it wasn't just some practiced parlor trick. 

 

Focus, she scolded herself, focus. You've saved lives. Surely you can smash cups. 

 

For that last second, the whole of the arena held its collective breath- the silence seemed to hang in the air with an icy finality and time seemed to stretch on forever. 

 

The small shrill whistle blew out, and the game began. Six breasts clocking in at nearly a total of three hundred pounds crashed into the tables, rattling them and causing even the cups, taped down for convenience, to shake wildly. Brianna shot out as stomped her feet right, throwing one breast down and pulling up another one to, ironically, cock it. She crossed her foot over the other, her submissive left arcing back behind the right leg, and planting toes (a lovely shade of soft pink) on the ground. She would then pivot her body to the right, and then, with the force of a quarterback sack, slam her breast into the table, crushing some two dozen cups under the weight. She brought her other breast to bare, pulling the hammer as one might say, and then shift in her foot and weight once more, starting the cycle once more. 

 

Fast- inhumanly fast! In a second, she might have repeated this cycle twice, maybe even thrice. 

 

Compared to the twins Amber and Morgan, it might as well have been greased lightning. The two, each rotating counterclockwise in their table and bringing both breasts down hard on some half dozen cups each, each motion costing them two steps, and two seconds to cock, push, and reload their boobguns. 

 

Brianna continued to attack down, each knocker nearly nicking all knickknacks near- or rather, threatening to knock everything aside with each strike. Surely, if any were in doubt of her prodigious powers, there were no such nonbelievers anymore. 

 

The onslaught and hyper speed of Brianna's actions did not go unnoticed by even the focused twins- both stole glances from their own work to that of their challenger. And like any time one doesn't keep their eye on the prize, they begin to falter.

 

Morgan was the first to make a misstep- in her haste to catch up and remain competent, as tripped over their foot, eliciting a scream from her mouth. Amber, by either sibling psionics or just plain old alarm, looked up from her own to see what had befallen her sister. As a result, by either intention or not, she slowed, her beasts not slamming at the rates they needed to be- though, to be honest, even that wasn't good enough.

 

"Noooooo," Amber lamented, completely out of tune with her sister. She was gripped suddenly by that unholy and overpowering panic that came on from fear and evidence of loss or falling behind, which, because there is no just and loving God in the grand Watch Without a Watchmaker existence, made you even worse and slow and behind-fallen. 

 

Brianna, though. 

 

Brianna, tho, fam. Hella lit. 

 

By time only some thirty eight cups between the twins were crushed, Brianna had crossed the six hundred mark, and, true to her word, showed no signs of stopping. Again, Brianna is struck by that curious feeling she felt while competing against Erica, save it more satisfying- utter and total domination. The feeling of victory, one sided like a war between Pygmies and the Special Air Service on a flat plane. 

 

It excited her, made her cocky. But who was to argue? Not a one.

 

Even as the others get back into their groove, the outcome is inevitable, and everyone in the room, save for Morgan and Amber, know it. 

 

The final stretch, fifty six to nine hundred and sixty two- Brianna, knowing her time was close, kept on steady, right up until the very last throw- pausing but a split second to cock not one but two breasts, she arched her back as then, putting we full mass behind it, bent over and crashed into the table that held the very last dozen cups. The table, a industrial strength one made specifically for large loads to be dropped on it, buckled and role under the strain, splitting clean in half. 

 

Despite the hundreds or so of people cheering for her, Brianna could only here her own heartbeat. She had done it! She knew she would have, but... Still: sweet sweet victory. 

 

Pushing up her glasses that had become askew and parting the crowd, she walked, a little more haughtily than necessary, over to where the two twins were, of all things, arguing. 

 

"Shut up"

 

"No you shut up- if you hadn't have screwed up like did"

 

"Oh that's bullshit! You were totally off balance and out of rhythm and"

 

"You're full of it, I was doing great until"

 

"But you"

 

"No, I was"

 

"Absolutely ridiculous"

 

"Girls!" Brianna had barked, and they both looked right up at her, as if they didn't notice the arrival of a thirteen foot giantess earlier. "Come on now, don't be so petty- you're sisters for crying out loud. What ever happened to peace and harmony? Shouldn't you two be agreeing on how badly you lost to me and how you now owe me all of your points, what, some fifteen hundred, I think?"

 

If looks could kill, Brianna would be toes up. 

 

Brianna laughed aloud, a bellowing and victorious sound that filled the room, even with the roaring crowd. 

 

"Well, whatever you do, don't take too long in your argument- I've got a head bitch in charge to deal with..."

 

********************

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

 

Brianna offered concernedly at the small short haired woman standing in front of her. Her name was Tessa, and she had literally challenged Brianna almost immediately after she was awarded the points from her fight with the twins. She was a pretty girl to be sure, but something about her, with her pixie haircut and almost chiseled scowl etched into her face, that made her seem somewhat... Boyish. Still, with only five hundred points to go until she could effectively challenge Brittany once again, Brianna accepted Tessa's brazen offer to battle. Still, though, she couldn't help but wonder at the effectiveness or planning of this woman... Or any of ones she had taken on that knight, in fact. Each of them, all of them, had fallen to her onslaught of size. Brianna's sheer size itself gave her an unfair advantage in every situation here, and, more than like, win her the championship. Still, it didn't stave off the fact that these girls seemed to throw themselves under her feet as she stomped at any opportunity- kind of like those weird macrophiles she had encountered once while she was very tall; she had once unintentionally hospitalized a guy after stepping on him and breaking all of his ribs. She was puzzled, and frankly, quite unnerved at the fact that he had jumped in front of her footfall by design. 

 

Still, they tried. As of now, Brianna was pinned against a wall, trying her hardest to not be underwhelmed by the I cups of Tessa, who had simply nodded and continued her scowl. 

 

"I'm sure," she piped in, trying to climb and gain purchase to shove her breasts and pin her to the wall. "I need that money for law school."

 

Brianna seemed to consider this and nodded thoughtfully. Tessa simply grunted from strain. 

 

"Ohh, a law girl then. That's cool. My aunt went to law school, actually- as said it was boring but she found some really useful gems in there. She's an attorney now for a firm out in California. Uh, their workplace accident division, I think. She makes, like, crazy good bank."

 

She was hoping to prompt a response from the tiny woman, but there was none. Then it hit her- she didn't feel much of anything- not, yknow, emotionally or whatever, but literally nothing- this woman was struggling, doing her damnedest to use her God given gifts to press Brianna into the wall and and make her surrender... 

 

But the effect was... Rather underwhelming. 

 

"Oh," Brianna said, with a slight smirk, feeling a little more saucy than need be, "has the game started yet? I can't tell."

 

If looks... No, if scowls could kill. 

 

"I'm sorry, that was rude. But I just..."

 

Tessa had jumped up with a roar and slammed her breasts onto Brianna's startled face, covering them in the silky sports too that was specifically created for this competition to hold the oversized boulders the games hinged upon. 

 

"Hhhh." Brianna yelped muffled, her nose scrunched up against the admittedly soft breasts. 

 

"Surrender!" Tessa cried, the voice belying the size of her. "Surrender now, Brianna!"

 

"Nuh," was the unenthusiastic, muffled reply. 

 

It was child's play- nothing she did, not pushing, pulling, jumping, nor pathetic attempts at holds could avail Tessa against Biggun Brianna. She was beginning to get somewhat... Frustrated. Both of them were, in fact- Tessa, by way of her dogged resistance to the fact, despite her wishes, that she wasn't going to make Brianna surrender. Brianna, in part because she was... Well, annoyed, and also because Tessa's feet and hands dug into her body.

 

Still.

 

It was telling, and the fact that previously came to her, the idea that she was indomitable as her giant self became more solidified. 

 

She liked the feeling, and after only a little prompting, she began to wonder... 

 

Did it have to stop with just these small fry festivals? What if she could go... Bigger? 

 

Like, nationwide? Go back to her half mile size, and, and...

 

Stay that way? Walk over (or onto) the White House, stage a one woman coup d'état. 

 

Who could stop her? No one. The national guard? Marines?

 

She'd smashed cars flat before. Tanks, humvees, and soldiers wouldn't be any different. 

 

And if an entire army came at me, she thought, a wicked smile coming across her lips, I'd always have a food source... 

 

NO.

 

No.

 

Brianna closed her eyes, embarrassed at herself. Such thoughts came occasionally, unprompted and invasive. She knew, logically, that such an option wasn't even on the table- she had been raised better than that. Her father had always told her, and still told her, that such violence brought happiness to precisely no one. Most especially, herself. She remembered well, even before her size change, how she had bullied kids in grade school. She remembers the misery and pain inflicted on herself and others. Violence always begot violence. Were she to turn supervillain, her life would be miserable. 

 

Still, she thought, turning her eyes back down to the woman who was still trying her damnedest, some domination is fun.

 

"I forget, what round is it, Tessa?" She gasped mockingly. "Or have we started? I had no idea."

 

This time Tessa had blushed- out of embarrassment or... Something else, Brianna could not tell. 

 

Soon enough, the bell rang, indicating that Tessa's turn was over and done, like some death pell. 

 

Tessa collapsed on the mat, laying her arms out. Brianna stay up on her feet and looked down on her. 

 

"Well, sweety, you tried. Are you sure you don't want to surrender?" She smirked. "It might be less embarrassing than what's about to happen if you don't."

 

Tessa sat up, looking beadily at her would-be opponent. 

 

"I don't have to beat you to keep my points, yknow." She waved her hand and nodded. "Sure, maybe it wasn't such a great idea to challenge you in this, but come on... I'm a law student, not a scientist." She exhaled and looked up at Brianna defiantly. "All I have to do is outlast you."

 

Brianna smirked. 

 

"Fair point." She folded her arms across her chest with some effort. "But you're still gonna lose, I hope you know. Bow out now and it'll be at least graceful."

 

Tessa snorted. 

 

"Why, are you gonna make me suffer or something?"

 

Brianna flapped her head back and forth. 

 

"Well," she said chipperly, "not any more than usual." She laughed when she saw Tessa's face. "I'm joking, Tess. No, I don't want to make you suffer. I'm not a bitch, you know."

 

Tessa peered at her, weighing. 

 

"I'm still not surrendering."

 

"That's fine, I guess."

 

Tessa huffed and, to her credit, with much dignity walked over to the wall where she would be pinned, leaning up against it. She stood there with her arms crossed and indignantly peered at Brianna, who had simply watched and scooted over to where she needed to be, still kneeling. 

 

Finally, with both parties in position, the start bell clanged out and Brianna started to push softly.

 

The effect was not much like Tessa's clawing attempts to smother Brianna- with her size and weight uniformly covering Tessa and even her considerably sized I-cups.

 

The pressure began- Tessa, who was a bisexual (at least, so she claimed- her last few flings were guys), was all at once overwhelmed and enthralled by the sensation. The soft, plush flesh of Brianna's I cups enveloped her like a warm load of laundry, all at once comforting and warm and sensuous and glorious.

 

For a moment, all was peaceful- Tessa, given the choice and option, would have opted to stay there for a nice nap, her bed mates surrounding her like a blanket that was put in the dryer right before bed on a cold winter's night (if you haven't tried it, do it). 

 

And then the pressure began. 

 

It started barely perceptible- like a quiet riot in the distance. But then, surely but slowly, it crept up and up and up, until it passed from the realm of pressure to pushing, from pushing to pressing, from pressing to pain. 

 

She was faintly aware of Brianna's wicked smile plastered over her face- she dare not look up lest she lose heart, but even without looking she knew that the taunting was there. 

 

"Having fun yet," said her opponent as if on cue, rubbing salt into the wound. "I hope so, because I'm barely even trying. I'm just kind of... Leaning, you know?"

 

Tessa nodded, eager to smile herself- she would not go down without a fight. 

 

"Oh come on, that's nothing," Tessa replied through bared teeth, clearly being something. "I've had harder pushes when I sssshhiiit ow ow ow."

 

Upon the back talk Brianna kicked it into overdrive- being teased was one thing- insulted? Well. Not on her watch. 

 

She increased the pressure bit by bit, hoping that she'd surrender on her own, making her realize what a mistake she had made (as if her being a giant superhero and winning two other matches easily wasn't enough)- and it seemed to be working. Under the milky breasts and sweat-shine, Brianna could see her face reddening from strain, attempts to breath under all that weight. Tessa was easily two bucks in weight- that amount and oh so much more was present on her now with Brianna pushing.

 

Redder. More red still.

 

Tessa looked up at her with a pained yet determined look on her face, as if to almost beg her to not crush her- Brianna got that look occasionally from people she caught in her line of work, pinning them under her feet. 

 

One last push, and...

 

"I surrender!" Tessa blurted, gritting her pearly whites in succulent agony. "I forfeit the match!"

 

A bell rang and Brianna unlatched her legs to release her tiny opponent from her vice grip. Tessa collapsed to the floor almost immediately, prompting Brianna, betraying her earlier thoughts and true to her true nature of help, to pick her up and carry her to the game medics who now tended to follow Brianna around. 

 

In her arms, Tessa looked up at Brianna with dreamy, unbelieving eyes.

 

"Usually the girl buys me a drink before she rides me like that."

 

Booming laughter filled the stadium, a belly laugh from Brianna. 

 

"Well, I did fuck you pretty hard, didn't I? All for points. Maybe that's worth a drink or two."

 

*********************

Brittany was waiting in the spot where they had their initial showdown, still there, still bitter with her arms crossed in defiance. She had heard about Brianna's sweeping victories amongst not one, not two, but four girls in the short space of an hour. Enough time to climb the point ladder and become eligible for challenging the champion. As the giantess approached her, this time not even letting her bare feet stomp their way for effect, she couldn't help but feel... Something. She called out to her.

 

"Well, if it isn't Big Tit Bri. You actually did it." The voice was full of bravado and... Something else. Something anxious.

 

"I'm glad you did well against your opponents tonight, dear," she continued, continuing to crank her head up and up and up in order to continue staring into the eyes of a very tall Brianna. "It would have... It would have been boring to think that all my opponents were as weak as the others- m-maybe you'll give me a challenge in this match."

 

Brianna didn't respond. She simply had walked over to the spot where Brittany was, letting her size an weight do the work for her. Once arrived, she knelt down to become more eye to eye with her- and there, she noticed, what the 'something else, something anxious' was. 

 

Sweat beaded across Brittany's well-formed brow. Her eyes were dilated, her heart rate, detected by Brianna's enhanced hearing, raced wildly about her chest and threatened to burst out of her rib cage.

 

"Have you even moved from this spot?" Brianna asked offhandedly. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter."

 

She regarded her opponent for a second, looking her once over and up and down and all around. She was a formidable little thing, but petite. And, maybe this was just the alpha bitch in her, but pretty cute. 

 

Involuntarily, Brianna licked her full lips wetly, causing a sheen of moisture to cling onto her mouth. The effect was apparently disturbing, as Brittany backed away slightly, eliciting a chuckle from Brianna. 

 

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean to scare you..." She reached out with both hands, grabbing the tiny woman by the back of the head and lower back, her pinky just grazing the taut buttocks. "There's no need to be afraid..." She pulled her in, and, in a surprisingly soft gesture, maternally embraced the smaller woman, as a friend or... Or maybe even a lover... Might do so. 

 

There was an initially tensing, followed by the inevitable relaxation that came with hugging and being pressed against such monstrous breasts. But Brittany wasn't about to let herself be bewitched. Not so close to the 11th hour. Still, as hard as as steel as her resolve was, such was naught compared to what was about to happen. 

 

Still locked in the ambivalent embrace, Brianna tugged at the tiny woman and leaned her head down to be closer to her ear. Brittany felt the acrid, hot breath of this strongwoman and shuddered, barely able to move in the grip that now felt like ice.

 

"Hey Brittany," came the deafening whisper, "I'm only gonna ask you once. Forfeit now, or I will utterly eat you alive. In the next match."

 

Brianna, still grasping her by the shoulders, pushed Brittany away only slightly, still aligning her sight with her eyes. She fixed on her a wicked grin, barely pearly white but no less deadly teeth. Chompers.

 

"And," she continued, cocking an eyebrow, "I haven't decided yet if that's figurative or not. Who knows," she said, blowing air out her nose, "maybe I'll grow big, have you for a tasty snack; that would really make history in this games, wouldn't it?"

 

Fear washed over Brittany and gripped her with icy fingers around her heart and stomach. Every bit of her wanted to turn and run, get far away from this woman as humanly possible, dig deep underground and have mountains fall on you to hide from her. Anything. Anything. 

 

Her lip trembled, and Brianna burst out in a hearty belly laughter, shocking the girl into flinching. 

 

"Ha ha ha, oh Brittany, I'm only joking. I would never eat or hurt any of you guys, ever. I'm a good girl, remember?" She patted her on the shoulder and stood back up.

 

"But, Brittany," she began, saccharinely, "give up. Now. Or you are going down without a single hit on me." She bent over and blew her a kiss, blinking one eye at her sweetly. "And you know I could do it."

 

With that, like earlier that evening, Brianna about faced and headed to her corner of the mat, where a very displeased referee was standing to no doubt lecture her.

 

Brittany, however, just stood there. She felt like a deer in headlights, and, despite years of a rampant bitchiness that without a doubt provided rapid fire and confident decision making, she found herself at a loss.

 

The match's outcome seemed... Dubious, at best. Heck, doubtful. 

 

Was she that far gone? Even as her coach, a wizened older man who ran more like an engine than a human, took her to her corner and somewhere distantly was shouting either berating or encouragement or maybe even both but hey that was so far away why the fuck is everyone shouting fuck it's cold in here can't they turn up the goddamn thermostat in here. 

 

Lost. Lost.

 

Then, insight.

 

She looked down at her breasts. Lovingly crafted by God or nature. Maybe neither. All natural. These were hers. 

 

She thought about that, amongst all

The shouting. She was vaguely aware that the entirety of the arena had stopped and ceased and was now zeroing in to watch this historic match. 

 

All those people. All that fame.

 

Fame. That's what she started for, at least. That and the money. 

 

But mostly, she realized, she had done it for... Herself.

 

Her self-esteem. Puberty had been very kind to her all those years ago, that long and glorious final year of middle school that had caused her to balloon up in so many more ways than just age. The bitches on the cheer squad wouldn't have denied her after. She remembered, though. She remembered well. 

 

Ridicule. Shame. She used to think it so petty and dumb, but now... But now. 

 

How glorious and marvelous it felt to be on top with her P cups.

 

A force to be reckoned with.

 

Distantly, she heard a voice- the announcer, telling the world and angels and God above to hear hear behold the match of the century- Brittanyzilla versus Biggun Brianna, a mountainous mammoth mammary match that soon won't be forgotten. Deafening roar of crowds, suddenly coming to the front of thought and perception, becoming loud once again. 

 

 Indomitable, was she. She would not be defeated.

 

The bell rang, and she shoved forward.

 

She would not be beaten- no. She would win, win against this Titaness and prove to everyone that she was a winner, good enough for anything!

 

She reeled back, taking one breast on her hand and cocked it back- a fist destined to knock this giantess out!

 

And then she was hit by the train. 

 

For a second, she forgot what planet she was on. Lights flashed before her eyes and she didn't understand why the ground was so hard and present and ow. Her vision blurred, and she vaguely remembered getting up, but the only she found herself burning on the other cheek and on the ground once more. 

 

What, she half thought. Or maybe she had said it aloud. She didn't know. All she remembered was getting up again, keeping her hands under her breasts once again.

 

Slowly the image before her formed- a tall tall tall woman in sportswear with a bare midriff who was standing there with hers hands below her breasts and rocking on her tippy toes.  Good Christ, she was tall. 

 

"You okay?" Brianna asked with a smirk. "Old lady like you might not be able to keep up. I understand if you need to take a breather. Do we need to call old folks home?"

 

Brittany, at the ripe old age of 31, gave Brianna the finger. Which one, she didn't quite tell. At the time- she really didn't care. God, she was pissed.

 

So pissed off.

 

She got up and stumbled forward a couple of steps, her inner ears cranking out their reckonings best they could considering the trauma. Then, sufficiently oriented, Brittany advanced rather quickly, punch drunk already but coming in with a calculated breast jab aimed for Brianna's jaw. 

 

Brianna, seeing this, arced her back slightly and instead of utilizing the juicy opportunity to counter with a hook, simply held her fingers out and pushed Brittany away, enough to cause her to kilter off balance. 

 

Brittany stumbled back, enraged.

 

"Hit me," she cried out, putting her fists (not breasts) up to bear. "Why won't you hit me?"

 

"Because you know what will happen if I do," Brianna said, half smiling a sad bit. "So just forfeit, Brittany. No one would blame you. It's just not enough- I mean, look at you- yeah, you’ve got a hell of a rack- P cups, right?" Brianna let her guard down for a split second and cocked her head to the side, a crooked smile spreading her lips.

 

“About 60 pounds total. That’s,” she whistled, “a whole lot. But hey, look at these!”

 

She reached down and gripped one of her own I cups with a tight squeeze, filling her hand easily.

“These bad boys are only I cups, but they weight a lot more. 160 pounds!” she burst with a gleam in her eye.

 

Brittany wondered where this was going until Brianna grinned wickedly at her.

 

“Heck, just one of my breasts weighs way more than both of yours combined… I mean, you look like a flat chested pre-teen compared to me.”

 

A fuse snapped in Brittany’s head, severing the link between motor control and reason. Brianna lunged forward, preparing a haymaker with her right (breast? Fist? Who cares?). 

 

"Fuck you, you overgrown cunt!" She screamed, making even the hardiest in the room flinch.

 

She screamed and ran and prepared her strike, but even as she was sure that this was the one, that this hit would surely knock Brianna out, a hook in the form of an I cup hit her like five rugby players across the head, and for a split glorious second all the colors in the universe presented themselves in cacophonous agony and then all went black. 

 

 

*******************

 

The awards ceremony was simple, sincere. A presentation platform had been raised in the main hall of the arena, where another three tiered platform stood: one 8 inches off the ground, labeled 3, one 12 inches off, labeled 2, and of course, one 16 inches, labeled 1. Next to the platform, facing a sea of chairs and standing room, all of them filled to the brim with people, was a podium, where the patron of the event, a short balding man, stood sweatily speaking.

 

He each, in turn, announced the top three point earners of the entirety of the games- third, a fiery redhead with G cups- Colossal Cassie. Second, with reddened tissue stuffed in her nose (she slammed face first into the mat when she was knocked out), was Brittanyzilla, wearing a look that could sour milk, her arms folded in the quiet bewilderment of a deposed monarch. Lastly, one foot on the '1,' was Biggun Brianna (she was informed that the platform wouldn't hold her weight).

 

"We, on behalf of the Komen Foundation," piped the tiny man behind the podium, "are happy to present your champions for this years 'Best Breast Festival- third receiving special bras for life, second a cash prize of five thousand, and lastly, first receiving fifteen thousand dollars! Give them a round of applause!"

 

The crowd roared and went wild, all them clapping and clamoring and making a general ruckus. 

 

Brittany was able to peak a glance over at Brianna, who quietly waving her hand with a smile (no doubt one very often used in her line of work). She looked positively regal, on account of partly her size, but another on well... Just... Her affect, she supposed.

 

It wasn't fair. It wasn't. How could something like this happen?

 

She pondered that question, not without much rancor, while Brianna came down and accepted the trophy and a crown. The trophy, by the by, was a set of two perky and very large breasts, and was something Brianna could hold in two fingers.

 

Two fingers. She fucking would, wouldn't she.

 

The ceremony, thank god, was over shortly after- all were dismissed and the participants, along with the audience, started to pack in and go home, only a few lingering or staying to get a picture with the champions. 

 

Brittany was, at the very least, grateful to have a few of her own fans stop by and commiserate with her. However, such gratitude was overshadowed by the larger number of people hovering around Brianna now. One by one they filed out, leaving just the two of them- even Brittany's coach, with a weak smile, had left her. 

 

Finally, Brianna began to make her way out to the parking lot- a cold night's chill had settled over the city, and overcast clouds, still visible in the palemoon, glowed with an eerie feel.

 

"It's not fair," Brittany declared solemnly to both Brianna (who had her back turned) and to herself. "It's not fair at all, you asshole."

 

Brianna stopped, hesitant to respond.  After a second, she did so, and offered a patient smile. 

 

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. She scratched her head absently, suspecting that she might the sentiment more had she not won by a landslide. "It is pretty unfair. But that's... That's just kind of life, you know? Unfairness and coping. Anyhow, I'm sorry about tonight. It must have stung."

 

Brittany's lip trembled. How indignant was she- first this bitch had stomped her into the ground, and now... She was consoling her.

 

Fuck that noise. 

 

"You bet it did."

 

Brianna chuckled and waved. 

 

"Yeah. Well. Again, I'm sorry. Have a good night, Brittany."

 

"You think you're so fucking special, don't you? You, you, you think that just because you're big and strong and have huge breasts that you think you just own the world, you own people like me. Well, you know what, fuck you, you overgrown cunt. It's not fair. A bitch like you doesn't know shit about hard work- you just got big and that was that. No training, no coaching... Nothing. People like you, assholes who coast in the drifts of someone else, make me sick. Fuck you... You... You..."

 

She began to stammer when the moon suddenly blacked out- she was, vaguely, aware of a stretching noise and low tremor as the ground beneath her shook, and she had the out of place feeling that she was getting smaller. 

 

No, no, that... Wasn't quite right. Brianna was getting bigger.

 

It was only too late then when she felt herself being picked up by a swooping hand and rushed high up- her stomach lurched and she thought she was going to be sick.

 

"You know, Brittany," a thunderous voice clapped, "you're right. Life isn't fair. At all, especially to weak little bugs like yourself."

 

The billboard face of Brianna, all it's prettiness only enhanced by size and the moonlight, peered down annoyed at Brittany, who now was only as tall (comparatively) as Brianna's long finger. She nearly shook with fear. 

 

"It's not fair when you lose. It's not fair when someone is bigger or better than you."

 

She huffed.

 

"You think I didn't feel like life was fair when I realized I'd never be a normal girl ever again? Trade in my medical aspirations for being a building-sized pin up gal who picks up after everyone, and is sexualized by only every single horndog guy in the city? Drawn nude by freaks on the Internet?"

 

She shook her head. 

 

"I hate bullies, Brittany. I hate them. I wish I could squish them all under my feet. They make life unfair for people they torment."

 

She closed her fingers around her tiny passenger, who let out a terrified yelp. 

 

"Nonono, please don't-"

 

"That's what i saw in you, Brittany. A bully. I saw it last year and the year before that. That's why i entered the Best Breast Festival, so I could give you a taste of your own medicine." 

 

She smiled and chuckled at her, who was still clearly not amused.

 

"What did I say earlier? 'So flat little bitches could know their place.' God, what a dork I am."  

 

Despite herself, Brianna kept on smiling. 

 

"But really, to tell the truth..." She looked up and grinned, mischievously, "I kinda liked it. It was fun, dominating you so completely. That and the other girls too. But mostly... You. It felt pretty great."

 

She bit her lip and looked down at the tiny woman, who was now crying and gripping her fingers on heir captor's own. She licked her full pink lips, and a bit of spittle flew off and hit Brittany in the face.

 

"But it's nothing compared to the domination you're going to feel soon. Oh don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you or eat you like I said, but..." 

 

She poked her tongue out and flicked Brittany in the face softly, almost lovingly. 

 

"There's more than one way to get you to call me goddess..."

 

 

***Ta Da***

 

"Ta-da!" 

 

Jane looked triumphantly at Quinn, a cute little expectant smile etched on her face. A strand of brunette had fallen from her magician's hat, and she kept her eyes locked on him and she tried to blow it out of the way, unsuccessfully. The trick had been clumsy, over the top, and ham-handed (a funny expression, considering how thin and willowy Jane was), but it had amused Quinn none the less, if not out of principle- a simple card trick that was predictable as it was clumsy, and he had seen her palm the card even from his own vantage point. His girlfriend had been practicing such things, parlour tricks and prestidigitation and the like, ever since she went back home to Baton Rouge for fall break- Quinn had lent her a copy of American Gods (whose protagonist did coin tricks), and it had apparently stuck. 

 

"Well," she said, petulantly, the edge of anticipation lining her voice, "what did you think? Was it good?"

 

Quinn nodded his head and pursed his thin lips together, not quite, she noted, looking her in the eye. 

 

"It was," he lilted, "something else, that's for sure. It was definitely, well, technically a trick."

 

The look she gave him could've soured milk, if not for the hinting smile beneath it. She had screwed her face up and twisted her mouth in the most delightful of ways, he saw, and the whole process of her getting upset with him was, if not a safe or within reasonable error, kind of fun. He was a teaser, he knew, and she knew that as well, had admitted it on several occasions. She had deduced it on their first date to the bell tower that early spring evening, when the flowers had just begun to bloom and the air around them was more pollen than anything else. They had written, as if in defiance to the modern age of conveniences, correspondences on paper and pen over the summer instead of email (except that one time they had met up in Birmingham), and Quinn knew it was going somewhere when she had started placing perfume on her letters (which she of course wore the next time they physically met). 

 

She tapped her toes, wrapped in their black and lacy stocking, loudly as she might on the bedroom carpet- one of her tells that she was playfully upset with him. 

 

"Yesss," she drolled, "and I worked very hard on it." 

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes, in fact." She bit her lip. "I spent all of the weekend working on that trick- my roommate, God bless her, knows it inside and out." She pulled off her tophat, a long and tall and black silken thing that looked like found at a novelty joke shop for effect, and looked at him, squinting her little hazel eyes at him. A teasing, if not knowing, smile passed Jane's lips. Quinn was unsure if he should be enthralled or slightly worried.

 

"Well," she began again, the annoyance seemingly gone and replaced by something else more quiet and more confident, "I suppose I'll just have to bring out the big guns and really wow you."

 

"You certainly wowed me with that last, er, trick."

 

"I," Jane said, walking over to Quinn with her feet rasping on the soft carpet, reaching over to toss the hat on his head, "will straight up smack you, big guy. I totally will." The hat settled on top of the mat that was Quinn's blonde locks.

 

"I believe it."

 

"Totally." 

 

"Totes."

 

"Tooooooootes magoates. Tooooootes..." She pulled a startlingly black handkerchief out of her pocket, and it caught Quinn's attention. She cupped her fist, closing it around her false thumb that stuck in betrayal out from the top of her fist, and she stuffed the blackest cloth he'd ever seen into it. He noted, with delight, that it was not all black- on one side, sure, black as the first sin in god's creation, but the cloth flashed a nebula of prismatic colors as she pressed desperately to hide it in the false fetish. 

 

"Maaaaaaaaaaaa..."

 

She finished and held her hands out, as if to show that no cloth remained and wiggling her fingers to attempt the illusion that he left thumb was not intact so much bigger than the other, trying to distract him with her auditory drone. Quinn smiled- Jane was getting better at misdirection. She then pulled the cloth out again, flipping it and spinning it in front of her, catching it dexterously between two hands and pulling it taut, the near vandablack side facing him. Then, with practiced panache, Jane pushed one hand into the cloth, and scaring the piss out of him, felt a tap on his head.

 

"Goats!"

 

Quinn jumped in his chair, yanking the top hat off of him. He shot Jane a sharp look of disbelief. 

 

"What the hell?"

 

He glanced into the hat, peering into the inky blackness. It was almost as dark as the cloth Jane held, who wore wicked and self-satisfied smile when he looked back up at her.

 

"How in the..." He bit his lip and peered at her through slatted eyelids. "How did you do that."

 

Jane reached up and pulled a lock of her long and wavy brunette down and twirled it coquettishly. She twisted her toes down on the soft carpet, making the soft rustling noise permeate the silence, giggling to put the cherry on top.

 

"Well," she drew out, a tone that Quinn knew to be both unnervingly endearing and unhelpful, "I suppose I COULD tell you..." 

 

Quinn looked back at the silk hat, then back at the black cloth. It had to do something with that.

 

"But," she continued in that singsong of hers, "a magician's gotta have some secrets, y'know. Lance Burton or that... Simon Copperfield fella never gave away their secrets."

 

He squinted his eyes at his girlfriend, predictably unsatisfied with such evasive argument. There was something. A mechanism in the hat, controlled by a button in the cloth? Colorful cloth would make it distracting, easy to hide a remote. But then, he thought, re-examining the hat, it would be heavier. 

 

Unable to make a good theory, Quinn set the hat slowly back on top of his head, making sure to note any thing, any movement that happened as he did so. Any off kilter or off balance motion.

 

He sighed deeply and glared at her once again. 

 

"Do it again, please."

 

Jane smiled a mile wide, twirling the cloth around and hopping from one foot on to the other. 

 

"Ha haaaaa, I've entranced you!" She affected a Parisian accent, the kind only an American might. "Hon hon hon, Monsieur, you vish to see more of zee magic oui oui? No no? Hon hon hon... Oui, ouiiiiiiii, you vish for Madame Le, uh, Mysterioooooo to reveal her seecreet, nooooo? Maybe if I do zis, vous can see how Monsieur Brady gave zee dicking to Atlanta on zee second half, hon hon hon-"

 

"Not funny, Jane- i lost two hund-"

 

"Silence, leetle man!"

 

Jane brought the cloth out again, and twirled it garishly above her. It seemed to... Get bigger, somehow. 

 

"I shall once again give monsieur sore loser a wee taste, no? Honhonhonhon"

 

 She brought it in front of her and again made the exact same motions- Quinn watched it like a hawk, paid closer attention to any feeling on his head. He watched as Jane flipped and snapped the cloth, feeling the faint air current ripple through the room and onto his face, though he tried his damnedest to keep his eyes closed. He watched her stick, part of the cloth in her teeth and in her hand to keep it steady, and then with her free mitt, wiggle her fingers down, down, down into the cloth...

 

...only to feel a sudden scratching on top of his hair.

 

"Okay, dude... Let's..."

 

He yanked the hat off again, peering inside to see something, anything, that would explain what just happened. Sure, it was one thing to poke him on the head- a machine could do that. But tussling his hair? That complex of a motion? 

 

"Jane, you gotta tell me. How."

 

She rolled her eyes, barely hiding the toothy grin she kept inside her mouth. 

 

"Oh calm yourself, it's okay." She whipped the cloth again above her and let it drift slowly down before her. "Here, maybe this will calm you down. Do you like birds?"

 

Jane placed her hand below the falling cloth, which then rested on her thin wrist. Quinn looked from her to the hat, where from materialized a very lithe, very thin, and very familiar upturned fist, the single middle digit skyrocketing into the air. The first thing he thought was 'well that's rude,' followed by...

 

He threw the hat away, and shot up out of his chair, shaking his head. He made Jane jump and startle but laugh, her rosy cheeks inflating with jovial delight. 

 

Quinn realized that he was saying something, and felt his mouth move, but it took him a second realize just what he was saying.

 

"What the freak David Copperfield Blaine Blair witch gypsy Roma bob Ross bob sagat Diablo Mongolian monk horseshit fuckshit is that, what the fuck, Jane"

 

She was practically rolling on the floor and sucking air when she tried to calm him down, putting her lithe hand out and over to him, trying to get words out.

 

"Ha ha, Quinn, calm down... Ha ha ha..."

 

She walked over and picked the hat up, casual as can be, and set it on top of her head once again, completing the outfit of stockings, silk shorts, and white tie dinner jacket. She wore a serene smile on her lips, as if she didn't just bend time and space. 

 

Quinn shook his head, defiantly, a quick motion that said a whole lot in a short amount of time. 

 

"No, no, no way, Jane... You just stuck a hand into that cloth and it came out of the hat. I am a hundred percent sure that it was yours."

 

"Yes," she nodded helpfully, casting her eyes up and seeming to think about it, "it would certainly be discomforting if it wasn't... Weren't? Weren't my hand."

 

"How."

 

She sighed and shook her head again.

 

"I told you, big guy, a magician never reveals..."

 

"Jane. Please."

 

She huffed once and set her hands to her hips, her smile turning from one teasing to almost flabbergasted. She shook her head, making her hair bounce all around her shoulders and beneath the hat. 

 

"So impatient..."

 

She pulled the cloth in front of her and held it up, showing him both sides of it. To confirm his suspicion, one side was indeed blacker than gallows humor and the other as kaleidoscopic and prismatic as they could be. The design was decidedly beautiful.

 

"This is half of the trick," she announced, turning it again and again. "It goes with this hat."

 

Setting the cloth partway in her pocket, she pulled off her top hat again and flipped it around, showing him all sides and inside of hat- still inky black. 

 

"My Oma gave me these when I went home over the break."

 

"Wait... Your Oma?"

 

Her lips curled into a tight curve, a smile. 

 

"Yes, the very same. My dad's side is Greek Roma, remember?"

 

He nodded, flushing his checks slightly. 

 

"Oh. Then, that comment I made about gypsy magic..."

 

She came over and rested a hand on his cheek. She shook her head.

 

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that. But it's okay, I'm not mad. Well," she bobbed her head side to side, "not too mad. You can buy me some peanut butter cups tonight after dinner."

 

"Dinner?"

 

She nodded enthusiastically. 

 

"Uh huh! You feel so bad about what you said, you decide to treat me to some Chinese food too, instead of that frozen pizza you have sitting out on the counter."

 

He chuckled, despite himself. 

 

"Oh. Huh. What a good boyfriend I am."

 

Jane pulled away and twirled the hat on her finger. 

 

"The very best. Anyway,"

 

She presented the hat and cloth to him again. 

 

"This... This really is gypsy magic, actually."

 

He raised an eye brow. 

 

"Uh huh."

 

"No, it is- really! See, watch..."

 

Jane had sauntered over to the table, where his laptop computer lay. On the side, next to a half-eaten snickers candy bar was a can of coke that was unopened- your average and expensive and nutritionally void college student lunch. She fiddled with the cloth, and then tossed the starry and colorful side of the bit on top of the can. She then walked back over to Quinn, still twirling her hat on her finger.

 

"I put the cloth over that can of coke, right?"

 

Quinn nodded. She then handed her hat over to him, which he took hesitantly. 

 

"Go ahead and take a look. Make sure im not hiding a can of coke in there. Y'know, along with a fist and fingers that look exactly like mine."

 

He scrunched his nose up at her jab, but then inspected the hat anyway. All sides, the felt round bit, the soft sides. The white silk back just above the brim, which stuck out a good and wide two inches. Inside, conspicuously devoid of any maker's mark or tag. Tentatively, wry cautiously, he put his hand inside of the hat, to the tune of Jane's lilting giggle. He felt around, dragging slowly a finger through all the sides and the very top of the hat. 

 

The whole hat seemed just that... A hat. Satisfied, he gave her back the hat with pursed lips, feeling like he was missing... Well, something. He just had no ideas as to what. 

 

She took the hat from him, and I'm her typically playful flourish, she held it, hole up, in front of her and waved her hand over it, all mystical-like. With a wiggle, both fingers and her hips, she reached into the hat, deep in, further than her hand should have gone. There was a noise at the table, and Quinn glanced over. The cloth which covered re can had fallen down, and lay flat on the table, the snickers bar just half covered. He heard the unmistakable sound of a can opening, and looked back to see Jane bring the can to her lips, smirking as she drank and not taking her eyes off of him. 

 

"Whoa."

 

"Mmhmm," she agreed, wiping the dribble of coke that splashed down her chin, "you're not in the matrix anymore, Neo."

 

"But how?"

 

"I told you," she lilted, "gypsy magic. My Oma gave it to me, as she told me my great great grandpa used to perform with it. He could literally pull rabbits out of his hat!"

 

She shook his head, his hand at his chin and mouth open. 

 

"That's crazy. I can't believe it."

 

"You literally just saw it."

 

"No, no, I mean... That really happened. Magic. Is that really the coke on my desk, though?"

 

Jane huffed and tossed him the hat, and retrieved gracefully the cloth that was on his desk. She held it between teeth and spare hand, and winked at him.

 

"See for yourself."

 

She pushed the can of coke into the starry side of the cloth, and to Quinn's amazement, her arm, coke in tow, came through. The hand beckoned at him, and he saw the faint imprint from the red lip gloss she used still on the rim of the can. He took a sip. 

 

"Holy shit."

 

She pulled the come back out and grinned at him.

 

"Yuh huh! Pretty cool, right? My Oma told me that my grandpa used to keep the hat next to his chair in the living room and the cloth inside a stash of beer in the fridge."

 

"Y'know, I was actually thinking..."

 

"Ha. You men are all the same! Beer, boobs, and... Uh, bussy."

 

Quinn laughed at that, taking the can and watching as Jane's hand fell through the hat again.

 

"Well. Biological imperatives and all."

 

She furrowed her brow at him, contorting her mouth adorably to one side. 

 

"Doesn't give you the right to be basic..."

 

"Truuuue, but you're the same- you've grabbed all sorts of my parts. Bros, butts and..." He smirked. "Beenis."

 

She nodded in agreement, playful frustrated.

 

"In fact," he began, "put that cloth on your chest."

 

When she realized what he was asking, she rolled her eyes but seemed to be atwitter by the suggestion, and the way she delicately laid the cloth on her not-so-famished cleavage suggested the same. 

 

He grinned evilly, and then wiggled his fingers in pantomime of her, then said, 

 

"Hocus pocus, you're the best, watch me pull out of this hat a brea-"

 

His words stopped short as he felt his hand collide with the soft fabric of the hat. It moved forward, his hand unable to transport somehow to where the cloth was deposited.

 

"It... Doesn't... Feeeeel squishy..."

 

"That's because, you dolt," she teased, pulling the cloth up, "it won't work for you... You're not an exotic, sexy, lovely Roma goddess like me!"

 

Despite the frustration, he chuckled and set the hat back on his head. 

 

"Well, certainly not a goddess. That whole... Bait and tackle thing."

 

She laughed, a deep throated and full melodious sound. 

 

"Mmhmm... Speaking of..." She walked over and pulled him by the arm, pulling him over to the bed, pushing him down to his back and leaning over him. She traced a finger around his face and down his neck, chest, and stomach. Her curly little smile and squinting eyes hinting, quite playfully, at the real magic to come. She pulled back up, her hands pulling down on his stomach and thighs and then finally resting on his crotch, kneading and pressing down on his half-tumescent penis already whetted by the flirtatious teasing. She  began to undo his belt and zipper, pulling up his shirt and kissing him on the stomach. He reached down and lovingly caressed her shoulder and tussled her hair, guilty payment for such sudden wonders. 

 

By the time she had pulled off his shoes and jeans, she had stood up and pulled the cloth out. She waved it  and teased it in front of him, then finally set it down over his junk and pulled the hat off. 

 

"Something tells me..." He began, to which she finished, 

 

"That you're gonna like this? Yes, I would agree with that..."

 

Jane put her hand in the hat and, true to the magic, she began to knead and stroke his erection and testicles. She grinned and bit her lip, blushed like a southern rose, as she worked his balls. Her hand worked its way up the hot and stiffened flesh, the nerve endings in his head and shaft ringing so loudly it drowned out everything else. He looked up at her, to see that she wasn't even looking at his junk but at him smiling that little satisfied smile of hers. He smiled back, bit his lip as she twisted her hand, and found himself very happy on a lot of levels. 

 

Then, almost cruelly, she stopped, only leaning over to give his tip a playful kiss.

 

She giggled as he moaned, and instead pulled the cloth away from the erection. 

 

"Was that good?"

 

He shot her a frustrated glance. 

 

"Why did we stop? And yes!"

 

She grinned, setting the hat down on his erection.

 

"That's good..." She pulled the cloth up and began, unless his eyes deceived him, to stretch and stretch it, until it was nearly three times the size of its original dimension. She set this on the ground, kneeled, and looked at him. "Because we've only just begun!"

 

The notion hit Quinn, and instead of falling into the obvious pleasure that was about time afforded him, he lifted the hat and peered in. What he saw made him... Well, gasp. 

 

He saw a tiny effigy of Jane, alive and moving her arms about, stare back at him from inside the hat! She was leaning on the side of the hat, blow him a literally tiny kiss from inside and grinning like mad. 

 

"Jane!"

 

He looked over to the cloth and saw her chest deep... Submerged? Yes, submerged into the cloth. She pulled herself up and laughed.

 

"How... How in the hell?!"

 

"I told you, you silly goose! Gypsy magic."

 

"But you were so tiny!"

 

She smirked at him and set her hands on her hips- bobbing her head back and forth. 

 

"Kinda cool, isn't it? I about freaked when I learned I could do that. I made myself so small, I slept in my shoe that night!"

 

Quinn shook his head, still trying his damnedest to take everything in. 

 

"Your shoe?"

 

She nodded, leaning back over and lolling expectantly down at the blanket. 

 

"The new Vans I got, so they were still soft and not smelly. So are we going to do this or are you just gonna let the bus leave without dropping off the passengers?"

 

"Oh," replied Quinn, as if that made the whole thing okay. "I guess."

 

Jane frowned, pulling back up and setting her hands on hips once more. 

 

"You don't sound too enthused... I suppose I should try and change your tune in that..."

 

Jane reached over and motioned him to look into the hat again, then leaned forward and dipped herself into the blanket once again. Quinn hesitantly looked into the hat, and saw her pressing her boobs into one another, biting her lip and whistling at him.

 

"Let me at 'em," she squeaked, her voice sounding far off but not quite distant, "let me at that giggle stick of yours, big boy!" 

 

With a wry smile, Quinn placed the hat back onto his halfrect penis and felt tiny digits strike against it, tiny kisses caress it. It was certainly a novel sensation, and one he'd never thought he'd ever feel or see in his life, but to be jerked and sucked off by his girlfriend, now one half of her comparatively the size of an action figure? He shuddered a bit, even as he felt her agile tongue work its way across the head. 

 

"...Jane?"

 

No answer. 

 

"Jane!"

 

Still no answer. He took the hat off and peered into it. She seemed surprised and looked at him not without a little frustration. He apologized for interrupting her, but made a motion for her to come up out of the hat. She huffed at him, and came up, keeping that adorable little pout when she pulled herself out of the blanket. 

 

"Yes?" She asked expectantly, petulantly. The look she had was not dissimilar to the one he might have worn when she first stopped her handjob. "What's wrong?"

 

He grinned sheepishly, and to be honest he was not exactly sure why he would ever say something like this, but he said

 

"It just... Feels weird. You were, like... Tiny... You know?"

 

She was silent for a few seconds but then nodded and smiled serenely at him. She seemed to cock her head over and look him up and down, and then back into the blanket. 

 

"Kind of a novel sensation, right?"

 

"A bit..."

 

"Uh huh."

 

She looked down at her lap and then blushed at him. 

 

"Would you... Um. Well, I know it's not kind of normal, I guess but... Would you be willing to... Maybe... Go opposite?"

 

Quinn squinted at her.

 

"How do you mean?"

 

She sighed, biting her lip raggedly. 

 

"well... Give me the hat."

 

He did so, and she came over and sat on the bed next to him, giving his penis a little tug when she saw it was starting to droop. He laughed, and then half-laughed half-chuckled when he saw Jane pull off her stockings, her pink and lacy Victoria's Secret panties flashing at him. 

 

Once her stockings were on the side and out of the way, she stuck her pointed foot into the hat, and caused her five little toes to pop out of the blanket, all cute and short and chubby.

 

"Oh man, I need a pedicure..."

 

Quinn laughed and stood up, his hands going to his aides and landing on his hips.

 

"Wow. Janezilla. Are you gonna squish me?"

 

She he him a look, a smirk that all at once belied adoration and frustration. She wiggles her toes and looked at them. 

 

"if you don't go over there and do something about it, I just might."

 

Quinn went over to the giant foot, reaching out with both hands and taking hold of the big toe that was the size of his head. He marveled at the idea of it, the truth that this woman's toe was in his hand, and it was enlarged. He could see the tiny ridges of her skin's imprint up close, enlarged to the naked eye. As she rubbed his hand over the digit, it twitched and Jane had giggled over to his side. He thought about how surreal it was to touch her enlarged foot here and see her laughing, this comparatively tiny girl, all the way yonder. 

 

He patted the tips of her toes, and rubbed his erection across them like passing a stick along picket fence. She flexed her toes as he did so, her hand reaching down and brushing herself through her lace panties. She bit her lips and moaned, a little smile curling her lips.

 

Sensing it was a positive thing for him to do, he leaned over and kissed each of her toes, each of them twitching and responding to the lightest of his touches. 

 

She giggled and looked him up and down.

 

"Put your hips forward," she commanded, biting her thumb and flexing her toes. He did so, thrusting his crotch out, sticking his cock out. She shifted her foot down, and grabbed the little rod between her index and pointer toes. He gasped when she did.

 

She worked up and down like that, stroking his sensitive skin up and down, making him shudder with delight. Soon enough, once his pre-ejaculate had oozed out onto her blue toenails (her favorite color, though they were half-chipped away thanks to her penchant for open-toed sandals), she released him much to his playful but very frustration. 

 

"Jaaaane."

 

"I know, I know!" She consoled, pulling her foot out and looking down at it. She watched as the pregame jizz drizzled down her foot and onto the carpet. Once done, she stood up and sauntered over to where the cloth was. 

 

"I'll finish you soon... I just want to try something." 

 

She pulled up the cloth and flipped it over, the black side facing her. She turned over to her boyfriend and gave a wild smile. 

 

"I'm gonna wrap this... Yeah."

 

She did so, leaning over and wrapping the bit over him tightly. He found that the cloth held fast in place, despite his experimental efforts to tug it off. 

 

"Another one of those Roma things," she shrugged off. 

 

Once firmly round him, Jane alighted back to the hat she left on the bed, snatching up the headwear with glee. 

 

"You know," she droned, in a rather matter-of-factly tone, "most guys like handjobs because they think it makes their junk look bigger."

 

"I'm fairly sure that's not true."

 

"Shaddup. I'm tryin' to be sexy here..."

 

She brought the hat up and blew into it... Making him twitch. The wind, seemingly amplified by the sudden size change, blew past him and up his chest, pushing his hair up.

 

He smiled at her and just saw her hand enter the hat. Despite seeing this, it still surprised him when he felt four and a thumb wrap around his waist, the inside crook of her thumb resting on his erection. He laughed, possibly out of nervousness, but relaxed when she started to rub him. She stood back up off the bed, and walked towards him, still twisting and circling her thumb around his cock and balls, stroking the shaft and twiddling it. She came over and kissed him full in the lips, pressing her tongue into his mouth and behind his cheek. She continued to move her hand up and down and around, pulling and tugging and pressing his  legs and body and penis and testicles. His body was being, in a literal sense, stroked off by an enormous hand. 

 

She stroked, he kissed, and then...

 

It happened. He came, spraying his hot spunk onto her fingers and knuckles. She giggled as his did, and as his brain came back together from its liquified state, she pulled out her hand from the hat and placed it back on her head.

 

He sat down on the chair that was next to his computer, and sighed, a soul-releasing sigh that one got after only the most tantric of activities. He opened a solitary eye over at her and smiled. He saw her just in time lick the semen from off of her hand, sucking it down her throat with abandon. She blushed when she saw him watching her.

 

"Don't look at me like that!" He laughed, coming over to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and smecked him on the forehead, hugging him close.

 

"Semen is potential people..."

 

"Hush."

 

"So I guess eating semen is potential cannibalism, right?"

 

"Hushhhh."

 

He laughed when he hushed her back, and smacked her ass when she got up. She giggled and flittered around, then, spinning on the ball of her foot (the very one she had gigantified), turned to look at him.

 

"Stand up, you." A forceful command. He complied, ambling up to his feet and trying to not fall over on account of that load, er, mind-blowing orgasm. 

 

"Yes, Madame?"

 

She came over and wrapped her arms around his waist, never quite unlocking her eyes off of him. He felt her slender hands undo the magic that held the cloth fast. She shook it off of him, and he shuddered delightfully when he felt the cold breeze lick his shaft and eggs, shrinking them down further.

 

"I've got one more trick for you. Okay, two, I suppose. Are you ready?"

 

Quinn nodded, and Jane looked him up and down once more. She began to stretch and pull and yank at the cloth, expanding it even further and more, it growing bigger and bigger. What could she have in mind?

 

"First, a disappearing act!" 

 

She tossed the cloth over his head, stars filling his vision. He only realized what was happening as she fell into the cloth and into a freefall, screaming and putting his arms out to catch himself. 

 

He landed, shortly, on a very soft and fragrant cushion of silky ropes- a smell that was quite familiar to him- as he tried to push himself up, he could not. His arms and legs tangled in the taut cords, and he found himself panicking. He shot straight up, however, when he hear a purr rumble throughout his entire. The ground shook as the purr morphed into a laugh, and he soon realized that it was coming from below, and then, like dawn, it all fell into place.

 

The silk hat flew off of Jane's head and onto the unkept bed, exposing Quinn to the harsh lights of his own room. The view was breathtaking- all of the familiarity and surroundings that seemed so familiar, but all of the scales of it were completely changed. It was huge! Enormous! Gigantic!

 

And, he realized, most of all...

 

Jane's hand rose up from the horizon of her head and wrapped itself around his body, the hand curling around him into a fist. He felt the sudden vertigo of movement take hold of his stomach, but soon the ride was over and the finger cage opened and before him was the billboard, Olympic-sized face of his girlfriend. Her eyes flashed at him and she grinned wider than anything he'd ever seen. He looked around, and saw that he was only the size of her thumb, and the rest of her fingers towered over him. 

 

"Well well," she said to herself, a over coming up to rest between her teeth, "you didn't quite disappear. But I guess... Well," she smiled, "I'm working on that."

 

Quinn breathed once. Twice. Then smiled.

 

"I'm not sleeping in your shoe."

 

She laughed, throwing her head back and gave a full throated. She looked back down at him and licked her lips, Quinn hoped, voluntarily. 

 

"Oh no, little Quinn. You'll be sleeping close to me tonight. But it's not quite time for bed yet, because I've still got one more magic trick for you."

 

Quinn cocked his eyebrow.

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

"Yeah." She sighed, contentedly. "You know how magicians are always pulling rabbits out of there hat? Well, I thought it would be interesting," Jane said, reaching down to pull her panties off, "if maybe we could reverse that- but instead of a rabbit, it'd be you. And instead of a hat..." 

 

Jane walked over to the bed and held him to her lips, smooching him deeply and the looking him with her prodigious orbs. 

 

"Well," Jane continued, lowering Quinn down down down to her crotch, "you get the idea."