I wasn’t exactly sure what events lead me to this scenario. I just remember waking up nice and normal today. The next thing I know, I’m on the deck of a wooden ship, crew members running frantically around me, and the ring of cannon fire in my ear. This time I wore a cotton shirt, tied up towards the collar with string, breeches tucked into knee high boots, a leather belt, a blue vest, and a black coat with split tails that reached down to the back of my calves. Strapped to my belt was a cutlass, while a second belt slung across my chest held two pistols. The men around me were dressed much the same, minus the black coat. 

A second ship, tied to our own, was stock full of navy sailors flying the british flag. They appeared not long after I appeared on this new set and began attacking us. A battle proceeded in which I was, believe it or not, made acting captain. I had never driven a car before, much less captained a pirate ship. But if there’s one thing these games have made me accustomed to, it’s being thrown into impossible situations. I took the wheel and began pulling out every Pirates of the Caribbean trick I remembered, ordering the crew to fire on my mark when I thought it would do the most good. The two ships stayed locked together as we battled back and forth. Wood splintered, men flew through the air, I think I screamed like a girl at one point when a cannonball flew too close to me . . . but let’s not dwell on that. 

The fire fight went on for more than half an hour before the enemy crew boarded our ship. From there the crew engaged the soldiers. Swords clashed, pistols fired, men screamed, men died. Soldiers came after me, believe it or not. Even more unbelievable is that I managed to actually fight a few of them off. No doubt the adventure was made purposefully easy for me to handle, but I also like to believe it’s because of the gratuitous amount of practice I’ve had with these new games. So I went through each of my opponents one at a time. Each fight was ended when I slashed them once across the chest, in an attack that left no wound on them. In a matter of minutes I was surrounded by unconscious bodies, with one lone opponent facing me down. She wore the uniform of a high ranking officer, complete with a button shirt, breeches, a blue union coat, boots with raised heels that gave her a bit of extra height, and a captain’s hat. Her hair was done up in dreadlocks giving her an air of danger, while the way she carried herself bespoke absolute authority. 

“Jonathan ‘Black Coat’ Loya,” Monica announced in a crisp British accent. For added effect she  pointed her blade at me in true fencer’s style. “You have an appointment with the gallows.”

Without another word she lunged at me, her blade flashing in all directions. I barely had time to get my guard up and turn aside the first few of her strikes. I backpedaled a bit to gain some breathing room, but was pressed heavily by her. Thankfully Monica didn’t seem to be much better than I was, in fact, she probably didn’t fight with any experience or technique. I myself barely had any, but I had at least had some.

“Black Coat?” I asked once I had gotten my bearings. “That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?”

She smirked. “My thoughts exactly.” 

I grinned as I deflected another pair of strikes. “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you.”

 “I don’t understand . . .” Monica said.

“Give it a minute, she likes to make her dramatic entrances.” I explained.

While my attention was distracted deflecting a few more strikes, Monica kicked my legs out from under me with an alarmingly powerful sweep of her leg. Already off balance, I went down in a heap of flailing limbs. Amazingly I managed to fall without slicing a limb off on my way down. When I did recover, however, I found the tip of Monica’s sword resting delicately against my throat. 

“No more tricks, Loya.” she sneered. “Drop your weapon, and I’ll see that you’re last days on Earth are comfortable.”

“Tempting offer. Now here’s mine.” I replied. “Hop back on your ship and run away as fast as possible.”

Her sword pressed a bit deeper into the skin of my throat. “You believe your own legends too much, Black Coat. If you haven’t noticed I have a sword to your neck, and your crew has been dealt with.”

I grinned. “What about her?”

I cast my gaze out to the open water where . . . nothing was happening. Monica, who had turned to look with me, quirked an eyebrow.

“Her?” she asked.

I sighed, and then called out louder. “I said, what about her!”

Again nothing happened, nor so much as a sound was made, save for the squall of a few seagulls. By now Monica was beginning to look worried.

“Loya what i-”

“Hold on,” I grumbled. With each word I spoke, I banged my fist against the deck. “I! Said! What! About! H-”

That’s when the freaking ocean exploded.

Imagine the spray that gets tossed up by a whale breaching the surface. I’ve never seen it in person, myself, but in videos alone it can be breathtaking. Now take a sight like that and multiply it one hundred fold. That’s what we saw. What followed the massive burst of water could at first be mistaken for a tiny island. It was round, green on the surface, and large enough for the entire ship to rest on. When it continued to rise, though, there was no mistaking the sight of Jenny’s head. As more of her began to rise out of the sea, her skin in the light took on a pale green hue, which served to darken the green of her hair. More of her became visible above the water and I found, to my great shock, that she wore no actual clothes. Instead, Jenny’s upper body seemed to be wrapped sparsely in enormous ropes, intermixed with strands of seaweed and fishing net. She was most heavily . . . “wrapped” around her chest and pelvis. Everywhere else, the rope and net was little more than decoration. I only know that for certain because she seemed to finally stop surfacing when the water was just below crotch level. I had no idea how deep the water was in this part of the ocean, but judging by the scale of her body compared to the ship, she must have easily been 1000 ft tall.

Monica fell backwards and screamed something unintelligible. I wasn’t really paying attention. My view was taken up by a crotch the size of my ship. Looking up I found Jenny’s omnipresent gaze bearing down on us like the sun. This time there was no preamble, no toying. Reaching down beneath the water, her hand came up underneath the ship, and slowly brought it up out of the water. The entirety of this full sized pirate frigate was little more than a football to Jenny, who held it easily in one hand. I could only imagine how we must look to her. Animated figurines running around on top of a model ship. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I just recall Monica screaming, the ship tilting over, and all of us plunging into the abyss of Jenny’s mouth . . .

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

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jenny remarked. “They’re just costumes. I think you look badass.”

“Thank you, I like to pretend it does.” I replied. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

The blonde demi-goddess blinked in realization. “You mean my outfits?”

I tried not to appear too bashful as I nodded. “They’ve been a bit . . . revealing . . .”

“But . . . John, that’s the point.” she emphasised. It was obvious by her expression and tone that she was trying hard not to laugh out loud. “They’re supposed to be sexy. You know, classic giantess style.”

“Yeah, but . . .” I began, then hesitated.

Jenny leaned into the library table we had been sitting at, both before and after the game. Her typical 15 ft stature took up most of it. “Do they make you uncomfortable?”

“Well . . . kind of” I answered honestly.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes genuinely curious.

I paused. “Why? . . . Uh . . . Huh . . .”

Jenny waited patiently while I considered my answer.

“I mean . . . we’re friends right?” I asked.

“One of the best I’ve ever had,” Jenny confirmed.

“Well-” I blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’re one of my best friends,” she repeated, smiling There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Oh,” I said. That remark hit in a way I hadn’t felt in a while. With reflex born of years of practice, I pressed down on the feelings and carried on as normal. “Thank you. That . . . from you that means a lot. I think of you the same way.”

Jenny’s smile didn’t so much as widen as it deepened. Her eyes practically twinkled. “You’re welcome, and thank you.”

I nodded. “Then that’s my point. I know I’m not the best at having friends, but I know that there’s . . . boundaries between friends. Things you just don’t . . . reveal to each other.”

“You think I’m crossing some boundaries when I reveal too much of myself?” she inquired.

“I feel like I’m crossing some boundaries when I see too much of you.” I clarified.

Jenny chuckled. “How does that make any sense if I’m the one consenting to revealing myself?”

“It . . . doesn’t,” I admitted. “I just . . .” I sighed. “I might have mentioned before that I’m not good at this.”

To emphasise the point, Jenny snapped her fingers and pointed right at me. “And there in lies the problem. I think we’ve thoroughly established that neither of us are. What helped me get over the awkwardness of . . . well, everything, is jumping straight into the fire.”

“Like when you up and ate me without warning?” I reminded her.

“Exactly,” she confirmed without the slightest bit of embarrassment. If anything she was becoming more cheerful. “So we’ve got to do the same thing for you.”

I chuckled lightly at the idea. “At this point, what haven’t you done to me?”

The grin Jenny set me with was downright chilling in how devious it was. “Remember you said that.”

Without warning I was somewhere else . . . again. When I was, I couldn’t tell. Truthfully that was an incorrect phrasing of the question. Jenny once told me that she couldn’t affect time, and it turns out that’s true. But being Jenny Delhaze means that rules are a bit redundant. Who needs to travel through time when one can simply make the present look like the past. Sometimes the characters participating in the act were illusions made to feel solid. Most of the time they were bystanders who Jenny cast in specific roles. For a short while they believe themselves to be the characters they play. Then, when the game is done, no one remembers a thing.

This time I was in a dark, stone cell, lit by nothing with only a single door. I wore a raggedy, white tunic that was tied with cord at the waist, sandals, and nothing else. My wrists were cuffed together, and subsequently chained to the floor. I couldn’t have been in there for more than a minute when I heard the clank of metal. From the other side of the door a Roman legionnaire, garbed in full armor, used a set of keys to unlock the door. Without a word to me he walked into the cell and began unlocking my chains from the floor, while still leaving my wrists shackled. 

“So uh . . . you wouldn’t happen to know what blondie wants me to do this time, right?” I asked of him.

The gruff soldier remained stone faced. Even while he hoisted me to my feet and pushed me out the door ahead of him, he never said a word. More legionnaires outside the cell took up position around me to lead the way forward.

“Are you guys my escort, then?” I asked. “Because I’ll be honest with you, I thought I’d be having the pretty kind of escort.”

More of the silent treatment from them. They pushed me forward, and I was forced to go along with them. I couldn’t tell much about my surroundings. The corridor was dimly lit and very plain. I could only imagine I was in some ancient Rome-themed setting, but not the parts. Normally in these games I could recognize what role I’m supposed to play by the outfit I’m given. This time I had nothing to work off of. Worn out clothes and a pitiful excuse for an honor guard. The only thing left to wonder was what Jenny’s role in this would be, and how she would show it. The girl loved her flashy entrances.

We approached a pair of wooden doors which, upon opening them up, led to a chamber of unimaginable scale. It was a room constructed entirely of marble designed in true Roman fashion, complete with pillars. Before us stretched a carpet of velvet, colored the with the deepest shade of purple I had ever seen. Brazen dishes lined the velvet path, each lit with a fire the size of a house. They led to a throne, upon which sat Jenny herself. This time she was dressed in white silk, one length wrapped around her upper body, tied over her left shoulder only. The other half was wrapped around her waist, draped lower over her right leg than her left, completing the odd symmetry of her outfit. Her toned stomach was left exposed for all to admire, as well as her lightly muscled limbs. On her feet were fine sandals, whose straps wound their way up her calves, much like mine, though her calves were much nicer to look at. A third length of silk, ruby red, was draped over her right shoulder, belted to her waist by a ribbon of gold that blazed in the torch light. At the foot of her throne, off to the side, a small number of beautiful young women dressed in clean, white robes stood at attendance.

The guards pushed me forward and I was led down the carpet trail to stand at Jenny’s feet. She had to be about 150 ft tall, her standard height for when she wanted to have intimate reactions with those around her. She once told me it reminded her of when she would play with action figures. How could such an innocent statement sound so funny in one context, and be so terrifying in another? 

The guards banged their fists to their hearts and bowed their heads in deference to Jenny.

“Empress,” one announced. “We have brought the latest slave captured in battle. Per your orders, he is yours to do with as you will.”

The Empress of Ancient Rome nodded her head. “You have done well Captain. Dismissed.”

The captain of the guard saluted again in gratitude, then proceeded to lead his men out of the throne room. They weren’t half way out when Jenny turned to her attendants, each of which was lovely in her own rights, and spoke.

“Remove my sandals.” she commanded.

Each woman bowed graciously to their Empress as they leapt to obey. One woman climbed up each of her calves, using her sandal straps as a ladder, and began undoing the leather laces. Once they had become unwound, the rest of the attendants at her feet gripped the sandals and pulled them forward with all of the strength their bodies could muster. I could tell that Jenny had to take some of the weight off of each foot just to allow them the ability to move the shoes, and even then the women were hard pressed to budge the things. I wasn’t surprised. Each sandal was twice the length and width of the average car. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were relatively very thin, and had little friction against velvet carpet, I don’t think they could have done it. In only a few minutes Jenny’s sandals were removed and discarded off to the side. She smiled and nodded at the young women.

“Thank you all. Leave us, please.” she instructed.

They all collectively bowed before their Empress again as they made their exit. When they had left, Jenny’s full attention settled on me. I didn’t move from where I stood and kept my mouth shut. Sometimes when we play these games Jenny acts like herself. Other times she gets really into character and commits to it for the duration of the adventure. I found it wise to figure out which way she was going to swing before I decide myself how I’m going to play.

“Step forward, slave.” she commanded.

That was new. Usually in these games Jenny makes me into some parody of an action hero. I say parody because, obviously I could never really be badass without her helping to make things easy for me so that I look good. Nevertheless, she always treated me with dignity and respect, in these games. This is the first time I was ever referred to as a slave, or given a direct command by her. My first instinct was to snap a retort back at her, but something in me stopped that from happening. A general curiosity to play along and see where this new scenario and attitude would take us. So I stepped forward and stood before her, looking stoically into her eyes.

Her right foot softly shifted forward, raising up slightly while her heel stayed planted to the floor. It stopped right in front of me, her sole towering a good few feet above my head, and was wide enough that my outstretched arms couldn’t even touch both ends. Though I remained outwardly unreactive, I still had to swallow a slight nervous lump that was forming in my throat.

“Your new purpose in life, slave, is to serve me and my needs.” she murmured. “Begin by rubbing my feet. First the right one. I will tell you when to move on to the next.”

My eyes widened. Now I couldn’t even deliver a smartass remark if I wanted to. A lot of thoughts had suddenly vacated my brain, only to be replaced by . . . other things. Jenny raised an imperial brow.

“Well slave? Your Empress is waiting.”

I paused to bring my mind back under control. When I spoke my voice was nothing more than a soft croak. “What if I refuse?”

“You won’t,” she said in perfect confidence. “I see it in your eyes. You desire to serve your Empress. You crave it. And, being the benevolent ruler that I am, I grant your request. Cater to the comfort of my feet.”

A big part of me, the part of me that recognizes my humanity, demanded that I resist her. Jenny had only ever treated me as an equal before. Why should she suddenly think that I’ll bend knee to her and do whatever she says? Let alone a job as degrading as rubbing her oversized feet. But another part of me, a part that has only ever stirred at night, when I’m alone with my thoughts and fantasies, said otherwise. That part of me recognized some truth in Jenny’s words. That part wanted to serve her. It took in her beauty, her power, and was humbled by it. It wanted to repay her for simply being allowed in her presence, in any way that it could. Hell, a foot massage was a small task to do in return for the privilege of standing before Jenny. Just obey. Do whatever you have to to make her happy, or else she’ll leave like all of the others.

I closed the distance between myself and her sole, the smell growing more and more intoxicating. Ever so hesitantly, as if it were a dream that would shatter if I pressed too hard, I touched the sole of her foot. A slight exhale of air from Jenny communicated that she felt my touch. It was my que to continue, so I did. Putting whatever strength in my upper body I had I pushed into the skin of her sole and rubbed my hands around. From there I lost myself in the moment, her hypnotic sent sending me into a daze comparable to a drug induced high. Up and down her sole I massaged. Into her high arch, and against her heel. Jenny gave no indication of approval, which only fueled me to try harder to please her. Though she didn’t voice it, I knew I was doing something right when she slid her left foot next to her right.

I didn’t even need to be prodded to move onto the next one, I just did. I didn’t even stop to stretch, I forced my body to maintain its strength. On and on I rubbed, losing myself in the heavenly touch of her soft, warm feet. I don’t know how long I had been at this when she whispered to me.

“Slave.”

“Yes, Empress?” I asked, still lost in the haze of my fantasy.

“Give yourself to me . . .”

“How?”

“Lick my feet.” she breathed.

This time there was no debate in my mind nor body. I was fully committed to my task. If anything, my very being leapt with joy at the prospect of one of my most treasured sexual fantasies coming true. So I went for it. I placed tongue to sole, and lapped at her bare feet. Her skin was warm, and coated with the slightest hint of sweat. This only served to enhance the flavor. My body rose and fell in level, making my tongue into a paint roller, determined to cover as much surface area as possible. This time I actually heard Jenny purr in enjoyment. That was the only reinforcement I needed to kick it up to 110% effort. Left foot to right, and savored every second my body was in contact with her feet. It got to the point where I escalated to rubbing my body against her sole. I want to feel this. All of this. And I wanted to feel it in full.

At one point I felt her sole begin to pull away from me, and I feared that I had gone too far. Instead, Jenny was only lowering her foot to bring me closer to the top.

“Now my toes, slave.” she murmured. “Lick my toes.”

I obeyed. Throwing myself into my work I made sure to get into every crevice, between every toe. The entire time I never stopped trying to feel as much of her feet as I could. I went over all ten from left to right, and then back again. But then her foot kept lowering. I didn’t move away, though. I only lowered myself down with it. Even after I was forced to my knees by her descending sole, I refused to abandon my post. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wanted Jenny to crush me. Maybe I thought that I had already lived my greatest fantasy, and I was totally ok with dying now. I was lying on my back now, the weight of Jenny’s almighty foot keeping me from escaping entirely . . . but not crushing me.

“Slave,” she whispered again.

“Yes, Empress?” I asked.

“Give yourself to me,” she commanded.

“How?”

“Give yourself to me, fully.” By now her whispering was becoming feverish.

Somehow I knew what she meant. I had been immensely aroused since this whole game had begun. Now, I fully gave into those desires. I continued to lap at her toes, while my body grinded forcefully against her sole. Jenny openly moaned in pleasure. 

“This is where you belong, slave.” she breathed. “This is where you want to be. Under my feet. Whenever you crave it, or whenever I do, this is where you’ll find yourself. This is where you’ll crawl to be. Under. My. Feet.”

I climaxed epicly, screaming out in what was realistically an unattractive way. My scream, however, was completely drowned out by a high pitched moan that filled the cavernous throne room. The game, which had played out for so long in ecstasy, beauty, and raw sexual energy, ended in a sweaty, gasping heap. It took me a full minute or so to realize that I wasn’t the only one gasping. In addition, a powerful, pungent smell was filling the air. My head languidly rose from off the floor to look up at the flushed face of my ‘empress’.

“Did you just-”

In an instant I was lying on the carpeted floor of the library, normally clothed, but still breathing heavy. Jenny sat looming over me, her amazonian stature looked as big as her giantess form from down here on the floor. We had been sitting at a table in the back of the library, so thankfully no one was around to see me lying prone at Jenny’s feet. Climbing back into my chair, I allowed myself to process everything that had just happened in such a short amount of time. The entire time, Jenny never said a word.

“So . . .” I began again. “Did you just-”

“Yup,” she said.

“And I also-”

“Uh-huh.”

I paused to consider that. At last I asked her, “Jenny? . . . What was that?”

The blonde Empress of Rome grinned sheepishly. “That was me helping you push through your awkwardness of having a best friend with benefits. . . Big benefits . . .”

“Uh-huh,” I replied, my head still reeling too much to be witty. “Why?”

She exhalled. “Look, John, we both know we share the same fetish. Sure, I really love playing games with you and going on adventures, but we can’t keep pretending their won’t be some kind of sexual subtext between us whenever I grow bigger. Better we save time and get it out in the open now so that we can have fun with it too.”

I blinked. “That . . . makes . . . sense, surprisingly.”

Jenny smiled warmly. “One of us has to.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean.”

But she shook her head. “The important thing here is that we can now move forward and be open about our real enjoyment of some of these scenarios. No more pretending that you aren’t pitching a tent down there every time I get big and naked.”

“I-,” I froze. “You’re going to get naked!?”

That brought out a rich belly laugh from Jenny. “I meant when I wear those revealing outfits that gave you such a hard time. Pun intended, by the way.”

I relaxed visibly. “Oh . . . Hey Jenny? I was wondering . . . about what you said when we were both . . . you know, in the moment . . .”

Realization flashed across her face. “Oh . . . That was just me in the moment. You know me, it turns me on to act all powerful and everything. You know I don’t really think of you as my slave, right? You’re my best friend.”

“Oh . . . ok. Thanks,” I told her.

“Well . . . to be honest with you . . . sometimes I might be naked.” she admitted.

“Oh god,” I groaned in quiet horror.

“Get used to saying that,” she grinned.

Fortunately for whomever was in the library at the time, my next groan was drowned out by Jenny’s laughter.