Humidity hung in the evening air.
This was not due to natural means. In the middle of a thick forest,
lay a clearing. It was clearly man made, for the clearing’s dimensions were
that of a neatly arrayed rectangle.
Within the clearing lay several
structures that towered over the thick canopy of the forest. These were not
buildings, however. In many aspects, these colossal landmarks resembled workout
equipment. Benches, pull-up bars, dumbbells of incredible mass, all occupied
this clearing. A large, stand up sign near the edge was marked with great bold
text reading, “Ginormous Gains”. Smaller signs at the edge were covered in red,
warning “Restricted Area: Giantess workout zone. Proceed at your own risk”.
The equipment was being put to good
use. Several women who had the size to match, were taking advantage of the
colossal athletic amenities. All, of great size, or even greater size, were
covered with a thick layer of perspiration. It was they who clogged the evening
sky with moisture.
One in particular, was working up a
furious sweat. With a monumental barbell slung across her back, Caitlin
performed a ferocious set of squats. Her eyes were widened with focus, and her
teeth were clenched. Her generous quadriceps and calves nearly burst through
her skin as they worked, while abdominal musculature pulsed and puffed when she
bent down.
Rivers of electrolyte-enhanced
liquid flowed as waterfalls from every single one of her pores. Musky liquid
dampened and darkened her gray tank-top, causing it to cling to her skin,
revealing just how bounteous and bouncy her chest area could be. Her navy blue
nylon shorts nearly rode up to her waist. The athletic fabric wicked away her
sweaty downpour as best it could, although this resulted in vast droplets and
streams crashing down upon the mat below. Already, there were sizable puddles a
normal-sized man could swim in.
Right in front of her stood Jackie.
She too, sported a substantial coat of sweat, which caused her dark skin to
glisten in the light of the setting sun. The giantess clapped encouragingly as
Caitlin progressed on her set, while at the same time, a boisterous voice
bellowed out phrases of encouragement.
As the end of the set neared,
Caitlin’s breaths became far more audible. Steel eyes shut underneath heavy
strain. Her muscles burned, a satisfactory sensation that was addicting in its
own right. Upon finishing her final squat, a yell of triumph was shouted out,
and she threw off the conquered barbell.
The great mass of metal thundered
as it smashed into the gym mat. Those lacking great stature would have felt a
low magnitude earthquake linger for nearly a minute after impact. Such
sensations, however, registered as merely annoying vibrations to the titans in
the area.
Upon witnessing such a flagrant display,
Jackie’s cheerful disposition soured.
“Cool it girl! We ain’t
power-lifting meatheads!” scolded the taller woman. Her hands were placed upon
her hips, in an attempt to impose upon her fellow, pumped-up colossus. While
her own musculature possessed greater definition, even so far as to split her
formidable deltoids into two sections, her own bulk fell just a hair short of
Caitlin’s.
Her peer responded with an
exaggerated shrug, “Okay Mom! Whatever you say!”
Despite the cheeky comment, there
was no sense of mischief within Caitlin’s voice. In fact, the titaness appeared
almost despondent. While her expression betrayed sheer frustration, within her
eyes, something was missing.
There were two others who were
making use of the workout equipment. Both had ceased what had occupied them,
for the commotion nearby was too great. One was a woman of East Asian descent,
featuring angled dark eyes, and straight, jet black hair pulled into a
ponytale. There was no visible muscle underneath her thin arms. She was midway
through a tricep lift, utilizing a rather small dumbbell, when the
confrontation began.
The other was a clear veteran, for
she too possessed a sculpted athletic physique. An annoyed expression crossed
her face, as well-worked arms gripped the pullup par. She then dismissively
shook her head, tussling her short pixie-cut dirty blonde hair.
At these two, did Jackie train a
nervous eye on, “We’re gonna be kicked out if you don’t get your act together.”
Caitlin had taken a seat on the
floor. She brought a white towel to her face, wiping it across her forehead.
“Their loss,” she dismissed.
“Seriously girl,” Jackie pressed,
her tone becoming quite serious, “What’s the matter with you? I ain’t seen you
like this since… Oh…”
As realization crossed her friend’s
face, Caitlin indifferently took her canteen. Greedily, she gulped down the
liquid within, not caring that some spilled out of the corners of her mouth,
landing upon her chest.
Steel gray eyes veered over, giving
Jackie a deadly glare.
“Two fucking weeks!”
Levity returned to her partner.
Jackie’s smile puffed up her cheeks, granting her a smug expression. Dark eyes
glowed knowingly with forbidden knowledge, as well as a teasing spirit to
match. Such was a dangerous combination, for she knew exactly where to hit.
“Damn, that withdrawal’s hitting
you hard?” she rhetorically commented.
Caitlin let out a harsh huff. “Stop
smiling!”
The taller titan’s legs
straightened and snapped together. A crisp salute, evocative of military
discipline and precision, greeted Caitlin.
“Yessir!” shouted Jackie, her tone
betraying her ridiculing intent, “No joy for me sir!”
A huff escaped the frustrated
woman. Despite herself, she could not meet her friend’s mockery with vile
retribution. Thus, her expression softened, and her head fell. She fixated upon
the gym mat below. Slick, dark hair hung over her eyes as her head hung down.
“Gosh, I knew this was coming,” she
admitted, “Andrew was fuming about it all last month, and making arrangements.
I … I thought I would have been prepared this time.”
Her friend joined her on the floor.
Jackie leaned up against Caitlin’s moping form, initiating unwelcome contact.
“Aw babe, don’t worry,” she
consoled, bringing one of her arms around Caitlin’s shoulder, “He’s coming home
tomorrow ain’t he? You can hit the dance floor with gusto once he comes in.”
“Oh, he’s coming in all right,”
responded Caitlin most cryptically.
“I mean, next time, I reckon,”
began Jackie, lowering her voice, while her eyes darted about, keeping track of
the other two gym-goers.
Once she was sure there were no
other ears to pry too keenly in their conversation, did she continue, “They
sell some pretty stiff cucumbers at Giant’s Grocer’s. Those things fill out
every nook and cranny. Can’t beat your man I bet, but desperate times call for
des-“
“I hate cucumbers, and they don’t
do a thing for me anyways.”
After shooting Jackie a glare,
Caitlin resumed pondering upon the ground. It’s
not just that, the house is just … empty. Lord, I can’t wait for today to end.
Meanwhile, the dark-skinned woman
decided it was best, to maintain a certain distance from her distraught
companion. A troubled thought, however, haunted her. Her misgivings were
muttered at a volume just below Caitlin’s perception.
“Can’t
believe you hate cucumbers, they’re fresh pickles for goodness sake.”
…
Mighty mechanical roars of jet
engines soared overhead, as Andrew exited the airport. Through the throngs of
people either arriving, or departing, it was clear he was a step or two quicker.
Effortlessly, did he weave through the crowd, until he reached a busy street.
Lines of yellow cars picked up awaiting passengers, before speeding off into
the high way. Andrew himself peered into the organized mess of vehicles,
squinting his eyes most diligently.
Upon finding what he was looking
for, his eyes widened. His hands waved in the air, before one of the taxis
parked near his position at the curb. The driver was an elderly man. Wrinkled
wise eyes, initiated a friendly smile that Andrew was obliged to return. A cap
covered his head, allowing a few strands of snow-white hair to escape. His
mouth was barely visible beneath a full bushel of pale facial hair.
The driver took Andrew’s compact
luggage, a small black, wheeled bag, and placed it in the trunk of the taxi.
Andrew, however, was insistent that his black leather business bag was best
left with him. With all his relevant belongings stored, Andrew entered the
passenger’s side.
For a man of his age, the driver
was swift in getting himself back in his own seat. As he shifted the car into
gear, he nonchalantly buckled his seatbelt. With the skill and sense of a
surgeon, he maneuvered himself through the sun-stained traffic, before speeding
off onto the highway.
Over the hum of the engine, the driver
commented, “Nice suit you got there, business trip?”
Andrew blinked in surprise, upon
hearing the driver’s voice. Nevertheless, he responded, “Not anymore, thank the
good sweet Lord.”
“Oh, one of those kinds eh?”
inquired the driver with a sympathetic inflection, “They’re at least around
some good bars?”
The office man’s thin lips formed
into a knowing smile, “Oh the bars were a riot. We’d get fired for half the
stuff we said in there if we were in the meeting.”
As he continued, his expression
soured, as did his voice, “But these corporate mission statements just keep
getting more gag-worthy by the year. And so many!”
“I know what you mean,” the driver
nodded, as he performed a lane switch, “I once worked in corporate. Good money,
but I was gonna die of boredom. Or an anger stroke, there are some fucking
arrogant pricks that squirm around there. At least with this gig, I can drive,
and meet some interesting people.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow, “Am I
among the interesting ones?”
“Everyone’s interesting,” responded
the driver, “If you dig deep enough.”
“I suppose,” Andrew commented,
leaning back into the fabric seat.
Few words were exchanged for the
rest of the ride. Soon enough, the taxi exited the highway, bringing itself
into the suburbs. Even in the dimming light of evening, Andrew could still pick
out his residence, a residence barely fit for his titaness of a wife.
As the structure drew close, Andrew
pointed towards it within the car, “Right there, that blocky looking
structure.”
A snow-colored eyebrow was raised.
“Man, that’s a mansion!” the driver observed, “You probably make some good
money to afford that!”
The office man shook his head,
“Nah, I’ve got a big lady back home.”
He retracted his pointer hand, and
splayed it out for the driver to easily see. His wrinkled eyes could pick out a
lustrous ring of gold upon Andrew’s third finger.
Upon observation of the matrimonial
band, a warm smile spread across his bearded lips, “Big lady eh? Be careful,
big ladies give big welcomes!” His statement was punctuated with a hearty
chuckle that shook his belly.
In the shadow of Andrew’s residence,
did the taxi come to a stop. The old man was rather fond of major shifts in
momentum, for there was a distinct screech as he slammed onto the breaks to negate
his vehicle’s velocity.
Andrew exited as swiftly as he had
entered. He barely devoted enough time to dispense with the customary
farewells, as well as payment. The old man was kind enough to retrieve his
luggage from the trunk. His service was punctuated with a slap upon the back, a
gesture than Andrew appreciated in retrospect, but couldn’t help but feel a bit
peeved in the moment.
With luggage and bag in hand, he
approached the towering structure. From his vantage, he could observe light
within the large windows. A troubled instinct immediately made itself known
within. It was a thought without form, an feeling that he forgot something.
Andrew quickly checked his pockets, but saw that his wallet, his personal phone
and house keys were in place. Furrowing his brow in confusion, the sensation still
remained.
If I've left something in the taxi
or the airport, I can give them a call when I figure out just what it is. Looks
like I have everything important.
What Andrew forgot, however, was
not something he had misplaced in his travels back home, but something that
already was stewing beneath the surface, within his very home.
A storm was approaching.
…
Caitlin greedily ate of the cold
chili within the plastic container. Several flecks of meat had dribbled out of
the corner of her mouth, staining her already sweat-tainted tank-top. She
barely had the motivation to even chew the cold contents before swallowing. Its
spicy flavor and chunky texture barely registered upon her taste buds. Neither
did she express fulfillment nor disgust upon her consumption of her frigid
leftovers. Her meal was purely a mechanical affair.
Another spoonful was shoveled into
her mouth. Caitlin was covered in a thick layer of sweat, all thanks to an
intense workout session she had just walked home from. A forearm fruitlessly
attempted to wick away a few drops that had settled upon her forehead. They
fell to the ground, leaving puddles where they had splashed. A fresh layer of
perspiration soon replenished the depleted area.
Caitlin eyed the cracked door to
her bedroom. Even though she had already consumed a great deal of her
leftovers, the giantess still felt empty within.
While she considered pieces of
rubber and other artifacts of a similar nature poor junk food for the gnawing
hunger that resided within her very soul, there were other small aspects of
Andrew’s presence that had left her parched. The mere sight of her husband’s
miniscule form upon the pillow she rested her head on was a luxury sorely
missed. Even more so, was his feather-light touch whenever it was decided that
she would be his bed for the night. It mattered not where he lay; snuggled within her bosoms, resting upon her stomach, or slumbering upon other
such places. This mere thought sent a thrill of longing that rattled her very
bones. Sleep had been a cold, barren affair for the past two weeks. The prospect of
spending one more night alone was somberly anticipated.
Gargantuan ears picked up a rather
faint, but distinctive sound of a door opening and closing. Her grip on the container of leftovers loosened, allowing it to fall upon the
kitchen island. The plastic vessel rattled audibly for a few seconds before
finally settling down upon the vast surface. Her other hand released the grip on
her spoon, allowing it to dangle from her mouth. A few specks of chili still
stained the corners of her lips.
She swung around, until she faced
the entrance which her husband typically used. Keen eyes spotted the quaint
form of Andrew, dressed in a white, button-up shirt, black belt and black dress
pants. He had removed his business shoes before venturing into the house.
Andrew’s small roller, containing all his changes of clothes, had been left at
the door, but his black leather business bag was still slung across his
shoulders.
Upon meeting his wife’s steely-gray
gaze, Andrew froze in place. He had become aware of her musk, and sweaty state,
but her sweltering odor was not what had compelled him to cease his pace. Neither, was the
scene of Caitlin’s messy sense of table manners when it came to eating her
leftovers, of any concern to him. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, had captured
something rather terrifying. The vision of a ravenous beast resided in her orbs.
It was then, Andrew had remembered
what he had forgotten, and it was not something carelessly left on a plane, nor an airport.
Husband and wife allowed silence to
permeate the kitchen. Caitlin’s breathing had noticeably deepened. Her cheeks,
once flush with the results of a good workout, were now bright red with
something vastly different. Andrew noticed that the air now, while humid and
musky, had acquired a sense of mass. He was finding it difficult to maintain a
straight posture.
Caitlin was the first to break the
silence, “I … I thought you were returning tomorrow.”
There was no trace of mischief or
boyish mocking. Her gruff alto tone had become strained, scattered and breathy.
Andrew could have written it off as Caitlin recovering from her exercise. But,
now with the full knowledge of his folly, he knew there was something more to it than athletic exhaustion.
“We finished early” he replied, with clear hesitation apparent within his own voice, “… surprise I guess.”
At once, Caitlin’s spoon slid out
of her mouth. It landed with a metallic clang on the kitchen floor. One leg
lurched forward. A foot, covered in a damp, black sock thundered upon the
ground.
Andrew almost lost his balance, for
the impact of a single step sent deep tremors through the wooden floor. It was most
unusual for him, for her crashing gait was one of the first things he had adjusted to.
Now, it was as if he were a virgin to such titanic steps.
As the giantess rumbled over, a vast
shadow was cast over Andrew’s diminutive form. He was only but an inch, perhaps
even less so in Caitlin’s view. Now, he felt positively microscopic. There had
been only a few times in his life where he had wanted to flee from his beloved, and
this moment would be among them. His muscles screamed from within to
break out into a sprint, so that he could flee from the approaching titaness.
However, Andrew was a man who possessed a
firm grasp of reality, even when his instincts bellowed the opposite. From the
minute he had entered into his own home, the moment Caitlin had caught sight of
him, he had thrown himself into the path of an approaching hurricane. Escape
was not an option.
He saw another foot slam a few feet from him, and immediately, was he knocked on his rear. Such an event
resembled rumblings in close proximity to the epicenter of a mighty earthquake.
Caitlin was consciously placing weight into her paces, far more so than usual.
Another massive step, and her opposite foot fell to the other side of his faintly visible form. There was
plenty of space that he could venture to escape his wife’s vast entrapment, but
Andrew couldn’t help the feeling that he was walled in. Even the toes of
Caitlin’s feet would be a rather stiff climb to clear, for he was only slightly
taller than her large toe, if even that.
The office man could only marvel in
awe at the two gargantuan pillars that flanked him. Dark eyes veered upwards,
taking in the bulging calves that loomed above. Even higher, were two
overwhelming thighs, barely covered in loose navy blue nylon. They might as
well have been stuck in the sky itself. The sky itself was Caitlin’s hips and
waist, musty and muggy, even from the great distance it was from Andrew. His
most discerning nose was not only picking up sweat. A lustful taint permeated
the air around him, and it was no secret where the source of such odors
originated from.
Caitlin then began to squat down.
Her form blocked out even more of the light from the overhead bulbs. Andrew
could already feel the weight of her body, even though not a single cell of it
had touched him. A spread hand reached for Andrew. Even from his vantage, he
knew her hand could swallow up an entire residence, and it was he who would be
caught in its all-encompassing grip. It was necessary to fight all of his urges
to run. Running would only drive her even more crazy.
Her index and thumb dropped. Such a
sight was evocative of watching the trunks of two sequoias converging upon him.
Immediately did the pads of her digits swallow up his torso, and he was yanked
into the air. Andrew was not trapped there for long, for Caitlin turned over
her hand, allowing him to roll down her curved fingers, before coming to rest
on her palm.
The lines that ran across Caitlin’s
palm were rather significant trenches from Andrew’s viewpoint. There would be
no way he would be stuck in one, for Caitlin was not that immense. Still, there
was a depth to them that he could not perceive upon his own hand.
Pressed against the calloused
terrain by sheer momentum, he was lifted up. Caitlin too, had risen up along
with him, although for her, the experience proved more mundane. Soon enough,
she had returned to standing at her full height. The hand holding her husband
lay just underneath her chin.
Caitlin’s face was a massive wall,
projected in front of him. It was much similar to gazing upon a picture in an
IMAX theater. Her deep, bass-boosted breaths even rivaled the chest rattling
surround sound such establishments usually possessed. Somewhere along the ride
from the ground to her face, Andrew had been sure to discard his business bag.
It would not survive what was about to happen.
For a second, The World stood
still. Time ground to a halt. Seven seconds passed, then afterwards, motion
returned.
Her hand tilted, drawn towards her
face. Andrew beheld Caitlin’s lips, puckered and desperate, advance ever closer. Upon meeting them, his miniscule form was pressed into their wet suction, an overwhelming kiss that
stole his breath away. From behind, Caitlin’s hand had imposed itself on him,
oppressing his body against the wrinkled wet skin of her lips.
Hot breath blasted its way through
small openings in her mouth, scented heavily of chili. Fresh strands of saliva adhered
themselves to his shirt. In the first few seconds, he had been soaked
thoroughly. And still, the hot, musty moisture kept piling on. On occasions,
Caitlin’s monstrous slimy tongue would emerge like a beast from the deep,
squeezing between her imposing lips to catch a taste of her husband. Even the
tip of the tongue would leave a massive, soaked impression upon Andrew’s chest.
The sounds of her mouth dominated
his ears. Throaty breath teamed with the squelching of saliva, and the writhing
of tongue. And, every so often, a powerful moan would shake every fiber of
Andrew’s body.
He was unable to move. With both
Caitlin’s hand pressing him from the rear, and her lips assailing him from the
front, her titanic strength was enough to render him immobile. All he could do
was ride the kiss out. Oxygen was thankfully not an issue, although he had to seek
it out when Caitlin would occasionally blast him with her own exhale.
It felt an eternity, but finally,
he was released from the confines of her kiss. As Caitlin pulled her palm back,
Andrew lay flat, feeling his now salivating work clothes stick to his skin. His
own breath was rapid, desperate, and his heart could not help but to be audible
to his own ears.
“Cait…” he exhaled, sounding frantic.
He gazed into her great eyes, finding some semblance of restraint within.
“Fuck …” he heard Caitlin eject. The
profanity was felt, as a puff of odorous sound blasted him back flat in her
palm, “I’m gonna fuckin’...”
Relief was only short lived, for
Andrew was pulled back into another moist embrace of lip and tongue. His body
strained as her lips slightly parted to allow air through, as if she were
attempting to stretch him like taffy. Her tongue was far more active this time
around. The red slimy muscle would press him against her opposing palm, sliding
him around the vast terrain in circles.
Eventually, she was able to pull
him away once more. Caitlin had settled down, for how long, was the operative
question on Andrew’s mind.
“Andrew,” Caitlin said, her voice
strained, even frightened, “I’m going crazy. If … if you don’t wanna …. I-I can
let you sleep on the couch. I … I just need to settle down.”
Her speech had practically
dissolved into whimpers. Caitlin felt her legs instinctively cross, attempting
to contain the burning fire that she had felt ignite once Andrew had entered
the house. With her gaze alone, she was practically begging her husband, who
already had been overwhelmed by the first bout with her. Within, she fought her
own desire, not to overcome it, but to buy time.
Andrew sat up, his gaze
sympathetic. He saw the fingers, fingers that rose up like great trees
themselves, tremble. His wife’s teeth, great ivory structures themselves, bit
down upon her bottom lip. He looked down upon his own soaked form. The black
fabric of his pants hid nothing, for he himself was conflicted as well.
“Sleep on the couch?” he finally
responded, getting Caitlin to widen her eyes just a bit, “I’m not going
anywhere. Might as well get this over with.”
Caitlin shook her head, causing her
hair to fly out. Her husband was hit with a few droplets of sweat. At his
current state, however, it made little difference.
“Andrew,” she moaned, “I’m gonna
absolutely destroy you… I’m serious, I can’t hold b-.”
Her eyes squeezed, and her words
were lost to another uncharacteristically high pitched whine.
Something stirred within him.
Andrew stood up, tall and proud, even as his wife now cowered. As he looked
upon the vast face before him, the bounteous body of his beloved below, a new
expression grew on his face. It was that of bravado, of masculine daring.
Perhaps the same expression crossed great Alexander’s face, as he gazed at the
vast expanse of the Persian empire. Perhaps Caeser was compelled by a similar
instinct, as he set to tame all of Gaul by the sword. Perhaps Washington felt a
comparable sense of daring when faced with the frozen Delaware river that lay
between him and British fort.
Andrew was David, defiant and
provoking, as he faced down Goliath.
“Oh come on!” he jabbed, crossing
his soaked arms, “I can take anything you throw at me, you big, stinky ogre!”
The trembling ceased. A small smile
formed upon her lips. The smile continued to grow, threatening to split her
head open. Eyes, once desperate and pleading, were now mischievous, and even
malicious. If Andrew was to face the hurricane, he would do so with gusto, and
Caitlin would provide the apocalyptic wind.
“Stinky eh?” she repeated, feeling
a certain bubbling within her gut, “Like this?”
Her mouth opened wide, and Andrew
was brought before it. He did not have much time to admire the great interior,
which would have been quite roomy to a man of his stature, before a supreme
belch was ejected from its depths. Rank, rotten air shot from Caitlin’s mouth,
and pounded Andrew back upon his own back. Odors of onion, spices, meat and
saliva washed over him, the scents almost given mass and form themselves. After
the last of Caitlin’s burp exited her great gullet, she let out a hearty laugh.
There was no pause, as her palm
dropped down. Andrew felt his lips flap in response to air resistance, as he
was brought even with her chest. She then swung her husband to her side, while
her opposite arm rose up, exposing a hairy armpit. The wiry threads glistened
with fresh sweat, and a fresh assault of musk assaulted Andrew’s senses.
The musk would grow far stronger,
as he was slapped against her perspiring pit. While he had serviced such an
area before, there were rare instances, if at all, that it had run with such a
quantity of sour liquid. Andrew felt her electrolyte-enhanced fluid invade his
eyes, his nose, and his mouth. He tasted the bitter foul sweat, but knew it to
be futile to eject it. Thick, matted axila teased and touched every corner of
his body. His soaked work suit provided inadequate protection from the assault
of hairs.
Caitlin allowed herself a blissful
exhale. Every muscle in her worked body began to loosen, all from the
stimulating sensation of her husband’s puny form against her mighty underarm.
Her palm was an imposing platform, keeping Andrew stuck against the musky area,
even if he so desired to pull away.
Slowly, her arm lowered, before it
was trapped to her side. Within the tight chamber, Andrew was captured in an
aromatic armpit sauna. The temperature was easily twice of that in the kitchen.
Hairs that had teased his body earlier, now threatened to envelop and entrap
him in their soggy embrace. As he too, perspired, the line between Caitlin’s
sweat and his own was unconditionally ambiguous.
“That stinky enough for you?”
Caitlin mocked from the outside world.
Another giggle escaped his wife, as
she felt him squirm within. Another gurgle erupted from her gut, but this time,
its orientation was in the opposite vector.
At last, did she raise her arm
again, taking care to place her opposite hand underneath her musky armpit.
There was little need to, Andrew was adequately tangled and stuck in the area.
He was able to pull his head away, and pull in some comparatively clean air.
There was a certain shock that his body was no longer subject to Caitlin’s
whims, but such a state would not last for long.
The rest of his body eventually
detached itself from the sticky underarm, and he fell upon the vast plain of
palm his wife had set underneath him. She would keep things moving, however,
and he felt her palm swing around. He kept himself flat as he descended,
fearing that his person would become detached from her hand, and float away
should the momentum become too great. Such a fear was unfounded, as he had
arrived to his next destination.
Bracing himself up on his arms,
Andrew scouted his surroundings. It did not take him long to see where he had
been transported to. Before him lay a vast dark structure. It was as navy blue
as Caitlin’s shorts. He beheld two great hills, straining the nylon material
that contained their bulbous contents. The valley between them was dark, as the
dark side of the moon. It was this valley, that began rapidly approaching him.
Andrew was pressed into the slit
flanked by Caitlin’s gigantic glutes. A far different scent, far more rotten,
far more potent and far more gag inducing, invaded his senses. He did not
require a sharp sense of hearing to pick out the rumblings that lay behind the
nylon material. Dread filled him, but it was augmented by something else most
contradictory.
As the thunderclouds drew close,
Andrew was pressed even further into the valley of her tush. The smell had
reached an intensity to a level such that Andrew could no longer register it.
He could only determine its magnitude, and anticipate that it was going to
become far worse.
“Maybe this’ll blow your nose off
loser!” Caitlin shouted, a teasing prelude to what was to come.
Thunder struck. A blast of gas,
with a magnitude to blow a hole through the earth, soared through the hidden
sphincter, and smashed into Andrew. Gale force winds turned his head back
forcibly, and even compelled his own shut eyelids to flap open. He could even
feel his chest compress and his ribs rattle as the gas passed over him, or more
accurately, through him. Smell was the least of what had assailed him.
Despite such a killer ripper, life
and limb clung to Andrew. Energy sure did not.
The force of Caitlin’s gas had
knocked Andrew back into her palm. He was listless, daring not to move a
muscle.
Brought before her magnanimous face
again, Caitlin took a long sniff through her nose, almost compelling Andrew
into her nostrils. Her sniffer then scrunched as a result.
“Pee-yew, now you reek Andy!”
Her playful demeanor gradually faded.
Once more, her hand lowered, bringing Andrew to her bounteous chest. Caitlin’s
great tracts of land had thoroughly soaked her dark gray tank top. Incandescent
light revealed the sheen of moisture that lurked within the cotton material.
There were no more words exchanged
before Andrew was brought against her breast.
“Better wipe it off of you,” she
muttered, as her hand began kneading her bosom.
The massive mound gave under
pressure. Andrew too, made an impression in the fabric-covered mammary, although
his contribution would go unseen. Caitlin’s breast, something that was
noticeable in her figure, but not obnoxious, was an absolute monster of a
landscape to Andrew. He had personally enjoyed the nights he was tasked to
scale such a hill.
As he was brought across the
titillating landscape, occasionally, Andrew would meet resistance on the path
his wife’s hand had sent him on. Her nipple had become quite engorged, and even
her own powerful movements struggled to get Andrew over the significant nub as she
continued to rub her husband into her breast.
Each squeeze of pressure released
some of the perspiration that lay within. Sweat soaked into his already soaked
clothes. Andrew knew not whether sweat was replacing spit, or was being
repelled, for it was all the same to him. The musk of her muggy shirt, proved a
refreshing reprieve after being subject to the essence of her bowels, just
minutes earlier.
Above, he could hear her breath
growing ragged. A new desperation had taken place within, resembling a predator
that needed to feed. So far, however, this beast was merely playing with its
food. Its hunger, however, would soon be satiated.
Caitlin’s hand drew away from her
bosom. A fresh layer of sweat coated her hand, as well as the minuscule man
that lay against it.
Her free hand, then lifted the hem
of her shirt. The vast terrain of Caitlin’s belly was revealed before Andrew’s
eyes, and he could not help but gawk at the organized dunes of abdominals that
strengthened and supported his wife’s core. Trails of sweat streaked down her
textured stomach, before ending at her waist.
Caitlin almost slapped Andrew
against her abs, and treated him the same as she had treated him against her
breast. Pressure had become a concern, for the muscles of her belly were not as
tender as the softness of her mammary. Despite the initial shock, Andrew
maintained himself, as he was swept against rivers of musk, brought over
plateaus of tensed muscle, and lead into the grand valleys between them.
The giantess’ motions had become
more relaxed, more casual. She had begun sauntering over to the bedroom.
Caitlin felt her hips swaying, even though at his current position, there was
no way Andrew would be able to appreciate such a gesture. Great heat was
emanating from her waist. Even though Andrew was currently being rubbed against
her own organic washboard, there were still many other places he had yet to
venture.
Caitlin flicked on the lights,
before making her way over to the bed. Balance was becoming an issue for her, for desire and passion had been accumulating from the first instant she had caught sight of her husband. Leaning her rear against the bed,
Andrew was dragged even lower.
He passed over the band of her
nylon pants. No longer against taut, toned skin, he found himself embraced in a
plain of silky fabric. No longer was he guided by the palm of his wife’s hand. Now, two oversized digits, both her pointer and middle finger, enveloped his form
as he traveled southward. From the seam that ran from
his feet to his head, and from the overwhelming odor of a sensuous nature, Andrew immediately knew where he resided at that moment.
With a moan, Caitlin pressed her
husband against her groin.
Up against her loins, with only a
two-tiered barrier of panties and sport shorts separating them, Andrew felt a
sensation of heat like never before. Even the sauna of Caitlin’s armpits had
never been quite as searing as what he experienced now. The material oppressing him was moist, but it
was not due to the excretion of an intense workout. Something completely different
stuck to him.
Andrew then realized heat of the
same nature was coursing through his own body.
Pressure from Caitlin’s fingers
only appeared to increase. Andrew could not determine from texture alone, what
lay beyond the barrier of nylon. Only heat and intimate moisture provided him an
indicator. That, and the stifled moans that roared from above.
Caitlin was finding it increasingly
hard to remain on her feet. Her legs, powerful and toned as they were, had
turned to jelly. Her breathing, once simply heavy and labored, had become desperate and
rapid. Even the simple act of staying silent proved a formidable challenge, for the
sensation of Andrew pressed into her privates overloaded nearly all other motor
functions. She savored this most exquisite experience, even though her shorts
had dampened what pleasure could have been derived had they been out of the way.
Her pace hastened. The silky
athletic material had felt pleasant moments before, but was now becoming an
irritant upon Andrew’s skin. Air had become rare, and every time he had an
opportunity to draw breath, Caitlin’s smell, her own unique mark of unconditional
passion, flowed into his system.
The giantess’ mewls rapidly rose in
pitch. Silver eyes squeezed shut, as her head leaned back. Soon, ecstasy
spilled over. Andrew could feel the area he had been smashed up against
overflow with moisture. He was held with such pressure against his wife’s
crotch, that he could drink of the discharge from her shorts like a soaked cloth.
Such liquid possessed a funky tang, tempered with an underlying sweetness. Once tasted,
did Andrew thrust his head forth, if only to acquire a greater sample of his
wife’s flowing nectar.
Finally, did Caitlin bring her
finger away. Strands of viscous liquid still clung to the massive digit, as
well as its passenger. From under her waist, Andrew ascended. His skin felt
chilly, for there was a dramatic drop in temperature he experienced, having been released from the confines
of her nylon-covered nethers.
The office man allowed himself to
lie back. His soaked body rolled down from Caitlin’s fingers, before coming to a stop in her palm.
Andrew’s ribs felt a tad tense, while his left knee proved a bit painful to
bend. With no broken bones, he would have to consider his experience a triumph.
Caitlin too, had to rest. Her legs
were hoisted up, before settling down on the comforter covering the bed. Meanwhile,
her back rested against the bedframe, trapping the pillow between her and
the wall.
Before her face, he was brought
before it once more. He gave his wife a knowing smile, and even felt a clever comment
on the tip of his tongue.
His tongue, however, had been
caught in his throat.
Andrew’s own eyes widened in fear, palpably etched into his dark irises. Frenzy was still apparent in Caitlin’s silvery
orbs. The beast within was as potent as ever. Not a limb of his could move, for
fright alone paralyzed even the slightest of actions. It was even necessary to force himself to
breathe.
The storm had not passed over him.
He lay within its eye, the sole spot of calm within the fiercest areas. The
easy part was over.
Caitlin was mute. The only sound
she made was that of ragged breath. A fresh sheen of sweat glistened upon her
forehead. Slowly, was Andrew drawn towards her mouth. It proved a measured motion, as heaving lips grew in size, while shrinking in distance with each passing second.
Her mouth parted ever slightly,
revealing the ivory sheen of her teeth. Pants had transformed into growls, as
she eyed the fresh piece of meat splayed out on her hand. Andrew’s black pants betrayed apparent enthusiasm, despite the man’s anxieties. But, there was
no knowing if his wife noticed. Perhaps, it did not matter.
Hot breath washed over him once
more. Heavy lips slid over Andrew’s face, giving him a fresh coat of fluid that
did not compare to the sludge he endured moments before. He winced as flat
enamel scraped against him, brushing against wet articles of clothing.
Caitlin’s growls were growing
desperate, as her teeth continued their assault on Andrew’s diminutive form.
He groaned in pain, for his wife’s teeth were rather hard. His hands beat
against her lips. Yet, he did not voice a single objection. His logical side
concluded it was useless. His other side … had far different reasons.
A fold of Andrew’s shirt was then
caught between massive blocks of incisors. His back ached as he was briefly yanked off of her palm. As he
witnessed her imposing rows of teeth clench down, a frightful voice, driven
purely by his instincts of flight, squeaked out from his quaking mouth.
“C-cait? What are you-”
With a mighty tug, his shirt, and undershirt tore. Gone too, were his pants, the shreds of which
mingled with the pale ribbons of his shirt, a black and white modern art
masterpiece. His belt snapped, and fell away. Even Andrew's dark briefs were not
spared, annihilated by his wife’s bite. The only articles remaining on the office man's person were his black socks.
The tattered debris of his work
clothes hung from Caitlin’s mouth like a mangled corpse.
Released from her enamel grip, he
fell back into her palm. A gentle breeze flew over his mostly nude form. Thick
black hair was splayed against his wife’s skin. As her hand retreated, Caitlin spat
out her husband’s mangled outfit, letting it crash into a heap on the bedsheets.
She looked upon the defeated
form of her husband. Her eyes memorized his young, anguished face, and his moist,
porcelain-pale skin. Never before, had he appeared so delicate.
Her heart could only race faster.
Upon viewing him, helpless, weak,
vulnerable, it was clear that she had triumphed in this contest. She was the victor. And to the victor, go the spoils.
The sweaty hand curled around Andrew.
Trapped again in a muggy canopy, he felt his own heart racing. Caitlin’s mighty
arms moved quickly, subjecting Andrew to unforgiving vertigo. He was deposited
just above her waistline, which now lay flat upon the bed.
Andrew could only gaze ahead of
him, memorizing the dunes of abs he had been subject to that evening. The weight
of his wife’s fingers pressed down upon his back. Her torso curved up, past the
mounds of bosoms, and up to her face. Never did her eyes leave him. The hunger
he had witnessed had only grown.
The hand that oppressed him so slid
him against her skin. Andrew dared to look what lay above. Caitlin’s free hand
had lent a thumb that had pulled back the waistline of her shorts. Also caught
in its grip stretched the gray fabric of her panties. Strands of a viscous
liquid clung to it, originating from a dubious destination that lay beyond.
She guided him down a thick forest
of hairs. Andrew had frequently compared such an area to prairie grass, but now, it
was more akin to a swamp. Moisture clung to the wiry strands. In a similar
manner to her armpits, they tickled, teased and touched his bare body.
The skin underneath had notably transitioned from taut and firm, to tender and moist.
Andrew’s waist was pressed into the steamy ground below, and as a result, his journey
across such terrain proved a tantalizing experience.
Shadow had overtaken him, for the
sky had gone a dark gray. If the ground was her exposed private area, the
ceiling was her underwear.
As the forest thinned, the ground
grew even swampier. A mass of flesh opposed Andrew’s path, causing Caitlin’s finger to pause.
The bead of flesh crowned a maw
that served as a vast entrance to a vicious cavern. Caitlin’s great digit, along
with her passenger, began to slowly circle around the nub. Soggy flesh grew
sweltering and tender as he was pressed against the sensitive area.
Another moan escaped her maw.
Caitlin had dispensed with such feeble attempts to enjoy herself in a quiet
manner. She could not view much from her vantage, just the outlines of her hand
within the nylon furiously racing over her loins. Her tender, private flesh
experienced all that her diminutive husband had to offer. Each limb, torso, or even
the fleeting sensation of his own loins, sent uncontrollable shivers down her
spine. At her feet, toes had begun to clench, bunching up the bedsheets beneath
them.
Rapidly did her fingers work. As she did so, her breathing hastened. A second wave of ecstasy was upon her,
and she was in a hurry to claim it while it was hers to take. With a mighty
push that plunged Andrew’s face directly into the tantalizing musk of her
clitoris, climax was upon her once more. The gateway of her womanhood was opened, and discharge flowed freely.
For a second, she rested. She
mouthed a couple of frustrated fowl exclamations, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” while her
other hand decided to dispense with ceremony. Soaked shorts and soppy lingerie
were yanked down her legs. Caitlin did not bother kicking of the discarded
articles, allowing them to be bunched up at her knees. Light revealed a hairy
pubic mound, crowning an engorged, red-hot entrance to her most intimate area.
Andrew was slid even further down.
Fleshy lips massaged his own tired tissue. Lecherous liquor leaked out of the
massive entrance, coating him in a layer thicker than perspiration could even
hope to.
Caitlin peered over the incline of
her chest, her hungry eyes consuming the erotic image before her. Two fingers
guided Andrew around her groin, absolutely dominating his scant silhouette. His
limbs flailed helplessly as a result of sudden shifts of momentum, while his
face remained buried in scorching hot flesh. Such helplessness fueled the fire
that blazed with in, and her efforts increased in ferocity.
Her mind was a haze of
consciousness, surrendering to the passionate sensations of the one she had
devoted her life, her own soul to. The man she treasured above all others was
subject to her mighty womanhood, drinking of its thick waters, and massaged
against its tender surface. As her eyes were forced shut by pleasure itself,
she gave into pure instinct.
Andrew was pulled away from the
swollen labia. He took advantage, drawing in great breaths, as he gazed at the
cave before him. At this point, his destination was inevitable. Even now,
subject to the absolute whims of his wife’s gratification, he was determined to
survive the hurricane.
As her fingers shot forward, he was
plunged into the fierce, roaring clouds of the hurricane. His fate was out of his hands.
The depths of his wife were dark.
His eyes could not behold reddened, swollen flesh that made up the canal he resided in, nor could they perceive the
rivers of nectar flowing through the cavern. He could, however, experience such
things on every inch of his own skin.
Caitlin’s fingers furiously
massaged him around the edge of her titillating tunnel. Waves upon waves of
juices swallowed Andrew’s form, threatening to drown him in a sticky mess. The digits that
pressed him into flesh gave the impression that if they used enough force, he
would be merged with the loins that had swallowed him up.
In many ways, Andrew could no
longer distinguish himself from his hot and heavy surroundings. Truly, two beings
had been united in one flesh. Each of his senses was that of Caitlin, and only
of Caitlin. His sight, when light was allowed to seep in, could only perceive
red folds of flesh, and opaque strands of nectar. His ears picked up the
sloshing of liquid, the slithering of her innards, the drum of her heart, and
distant howling of her voice. He touched only of her walls, and the pads
of her fingers that forced him around. He smelled her dominating pungent musk
that was beyond arousal at this point.
The giantess began to involuntarily
buck her hips, while her fingers thrust even further, drawing Andrew deep
within her. Her speech, when not punctuated with mewls, whines or howls,
repeated only her husband’s name, putrid profanities, or sacred hosannas to the
Almighty. All of this was exclaimed with the decibels necessary to notify the
entire neighborhood.
Soon enough, it was clear her
present position would prove inadequate for her pleasure. Caitlin turned over,
burying her face into her now sweaty pillow, while using her knees to proper
her waist high into the air. Her shorts and underwear, bunched at her knees,
now rode down to her calves, and lay stretched across the bedspread.
Andrew did not detect the shift in
orientation. In fact, he was in no position to detect anything whatsoever that
occurred outside of his moist prison. The fingers that were his slavers, were
also his protectors, guarding him every time Caitlin’s pulsating cavern clenched
up to claim him. Between massive releases, her fingers were generous enough to
allow him time to draw breath, before plunging him back in again. While there
was no doubt to the ecstasy experienced by his beloved, Andrew had also, by
instinct, provided his own paltry contributions that mixed into the torrent of
liquid that assailed him.
As the night drew on, the luxuries of fresh air grow less common for Andrew, as he was thrust deeper inside. Now, as Caitlin
rested on her knees, and her fingers pumped up to their base like an organic
piston, Andrew could only breathe of the concentrated air of his wife’s
carnivorous cavern. Such was his depth, that every thrust bashed him against
another entrance, a tight portal of flesh that guarded an even more precious
chamber within.
It was against Caitlin’s cervix,
where her final climax was reached. It was the ninth of the night, and the greatest
of all. A roar that could have shaken apart the planet exited her mouth, as her
intimate innards sent a flood of fluid in a torrential downpour. Massive drops
of liquid soaked the area under her thighs, as the tide of passion overcame
her.
The storm had finally passed.
As fluid continued to leak out of
Caitlin, Andrew found himself sliding down the length of her fingers. The
digits still lay embedded deep within. Slowly, she drew them out, dragging
Andrew along.
He crossed the threshold, emerging
from her tired lips in a free fall. Andrew did not scream, for he did not have
the energy to. Instead, gravity took him the span of his wife’s thighs, before
he bounced upon the soft mattress. A puddle of liquid awaited him, and his
impact was wet. There was some difficulty raising his head from the thick
discharge, but at last, his breathing was unimpeded.
Caitlin felt her heart slow. A warm
glow emanated from her loins, as well as her chest. Exhaustion had emerged like
a sleeping beast, and threatened her eyes with closure.
Just before slumber took her, in a
groaning, tender voice, she muttered, “I missed you so much Andrew…”
When Caitlin fell asleep, her hips
had begun to lower upon the bed. Andrew lay directly under her crotch, and
could only gaze up hopelessly as her bushy privates descended on top of him.
Feebly, he raised his arms in defense, the logical side of his mind far exhausted
by that point. Heavy flesh and wiry hairs pressed him into the mattress, as his
wife’s titanic form settled down. Every plea that he could have made would have been stifled underneath the mammoth mass of musk.
Caitlin’s sleeping position
appeared most undignified. Resting on her belly, her mouth hung open, already leaking
drool. Her legs were splayed out, one of them hanging on to her discarded
shorts and underwear. A bare behind, taut, yet bounteous all the same, lay stuck
into the air for all to admire.
There Andrew lay, drenched in his
wife’s putrid, womanly discharge, smothered by the flesh of her privates, and
entangled in the wiry hairs that guarded her still-leaking cavern. The bed
springs below bore the majority of her countless tonnes of buttocks and waist
that rested on top of him. Had it not, Andrew would be but a crimson smear coating
her pubes. Every bone in his body ached, yet the pain resembled the burn of an
intense massage, not the pang of popped joints or splintered limbs. All of his
reserves, from his energy, to his own loins, had been sapped dry.
Perhaps he should have felt
humiliated, not merely being dominated, but utterly, thoroughly ravaged in the
most lopsided manner possible. Yet, within his spent body, lay a warmth that
possessed little distinction to that which loomed above.
In his last act, he craned his
neck, so his face would meet the musty blanket above.
Upon her flesh, he laid a kiss. It
was a small, almost insignificant peck. Her warmth was tender on his lips. It
compelled him to redouble his efforts. Multiple caresses serviced the pubic
ceiling that draped over him. His act was punctuated by burying his face into her
skin, before his body relaxed.
Before he drifted to sleep underneath
the sanctuary of Caitlin’s mons pubis, he murmured to the tangled sky above, “I
missed you too, honey.”
…
At the break of dawn they laid
there, husband and wife, snuggling against each other as best as they could.
Caitlin was the first to wake. Her night’s rest had gone undisturbed, and she
had not even moved from her original position. She groaned as she observed the
clock, indicating early morning. Her eyes remained half-lidded, as they
adjusted to the new day. With sluggish fingers, a few of which were coated in a
suspicious, brittle crust, she massaged her temples. There was a tingle on her
rump, for her skin there was exposed to the cool bedroom air.
Caitlin’s back arched, as she
struggled to lift her fatigued torso off the mattress. An exquisite thrill
stirred within her thighs. The woman paused, for she did not know where, or in
what way this sensation began. Instinctively, her hips pressed down, enhancing the
effect.
Her lips trembled, as her waist
began to rhythmically buck into the musty sheets below. Pleasure pulsed in her
loins, only encouraging her to redouble her efforts. A hazy mind, meanwhile,
attempted to recall just what had occurred before she was lulled to sleep.
Andrew was now fully awake. He had
to be, for the motions he had been unwittingly strung along were great enough.
The bedsheets underneath were still moist, unable to evaporate under such
weight and pressure. His legs were pressed by something that jutted out from
the privates that loomed overhead. He was dragged across an expanse of cloth,
back and forth, up and down, as the tender area above smothered him even more
so. A desperate hand grasped the skin above. He could feel it pulse in his
grip, and even experience the distant vibrations of an enormous heart.
Pressure continued to mount as
Caitlin humped the bedspread. Andrew’s hands beat against her pubis, shouting
out, “Hold your horses Caitlin!”
When it was clear his own diminutive
voice had no effect, he made sure to grab on to stray hairs, fearing what would
happen if her inverted forest lost its grip on him.
The giantess bit into her pillow as
she reached the conclusion of her curious morning movement. Release flowed down
her passionate folds, washing anew her trapped husband.
He
returned, didn’t he?
As clarity returned, Caitlin
rotated her head to the side, finding Andrew’s usual spot empty. While not as
level headed as her beloved, it did not take long for her to put two and two
together.
Rapidly, she turned on her back.
Light hit her unshaven crotch, and immediately she could pick out a shape that
did not normally reside there.
Rose red became her cheeks in an
instant she made her discovery. Caitlin’s lips quivered, causing her to stutter
as she quipped, “H-hanging out down there alright?”
There was no confidence the toothy
grin she flashed. A few fingers gently wove through her bush, untangling her
husband from the wiry mess. With a firm, yet almost delicate grip on his chest,
he was extracted from her privates. Over the landscape of her physique he
traveled, before being brought before her face. He smelled entirely of her, for
a thick coating of sensuous syrup etched into every fiber of his form.
Caitlin’s expression was a clear
foil from the night before. Where hunger lay, now there was humiliation. Where
ferocity prowled, now lurked regret and sorrow.
No words escaped from her massive
maw, forcing Andrew to break the silence.
“Had fun last night?”
Caitlin’s eyes desperately darted
around, attempting to avoid eye-contact with the man held in front of her face.
“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, slowly
shaking her head.
“Sorry?” Andrew inquired, “What
for?”
“I might as well have treated you
like a chew toy,” Caitlin explained, letting out a sigh that sent Andrew
swaying in her grip.
Andrew reflected his wife’s sigh, “Cait,
you sweat it too much … heck, you sweat too much in general, I was swimming in
it.”
“I know, I’m sor-“
“But, I’m really glad about what
happened yesterday,” he finished, “There’s no better way to return to the woman
you love. Also, your breath stinks.”
A soft, hearty chuckle, escaped his
wife, as relief swept over her. Andrew was pulled in for a kiss, a soft, tender
embrace that was far from the passionate assault of the previous day. Caitlin’s
mouth morphed into a bright smile. The heart that beat behind her bounteous
chest seemed to flutter.
“So … you think nine months from
now … we’re gonna be waking up little Andrew Jr. for the first time?”
It was now Andrew’s turn to blush,
and blush furiously he did.
“Uhh,” he giddily faltered, “I hope
so. I was literally spraying and praying last night.” A hearty laugh then
wracked his body.
His wife’s face drew close, closer
than ever before. But, she wasn’t pulling him in for another kiss. In a breathy
whisper, did she put forth her own suggestion.
“Maybe, uh, before I make
breakfast, one more round just to be sure?”
To his back, Caitlin’s great
pillars of thigh had begun to part. Her breathing was beginning to become
heavy.
Andrew rolled his eyes, before
flashing his wife a knowing smirk, “Oh bother, might as well.”