Sweat glistened off of toned skin as Caitlin
made her way around the beach at a steady jog. Already, her white tank top
clung to her skin, stained by perspiration. As her tennis shoes made contact
with the sand, thunderous thumps echoes for miles beyond. Plumes of particles
would be kicked up every time her foot fell upon the ground.
The sun barely peaked above the
horizon. It shown an ominous orange as it illuminated the dawn sky. Several
streaks of dark cloud could barely block out its all-encompassing light.
Caitlin was silently thankful of the cool lakeside breeze that caused her hair
to flow into her eyes. Even to a titan such as her, that towered above most
man-made structures, holding immense powers of destruction and strength in the
palm of her hand unobtainable by even the most physically gifted of men, the
glare of the sun affected her all the same.
She allowed her pace to fall
into a brisk walk as she neared the giantess residences. A bare forearm was
brought against her forehead, wiping away some of the pungent liquid that had
accumulated.
Scrounging through her pockets,
she had managed to wrap her fingers around the sole object that had resided
within, the key to her room. Unlocking the door, she strode through, adrenaline
still pumping through her veins.
Caitlin managed to acquire a
small washcloth. While the cloth was clean and dry, as the muscled giantess
dragged it across her sweaty physique, it quite quickly became a salty, soaked
rag.
She tossed it aside with little
ceremony. It landed with a juicy squelch upon the carpet. A fresh layer of
liquid quickly replaced her depleted skin.
After the futile attempt at
drying herself off, Caitlin then proceeded to do away with her footware. Dark
tennis shoes caked in sand were yanked off. Damn, soggy socks had to be peeled
away from her skin. Caitlin allowed herself a small grin, once she realized
squeezing her discarded articles extracted a little moisture.
Andrew felt himself sitting
straight up as he witnessed his wife enter the room. Dark eyes witnessed all
from his perch upon the nightstand. Slight hands threw off the sheets covering
his body. With surprising agility, considering the time of day, he vaulted over
the cardboard wall containing his resting place. Glancing back, he caught the label,
“Massive Matches”, a most colorful logo for his makeshift mattress.
He would not be able to
experience the fresh dawn air for long. Almost immediately after he exited his
bed, the atmosphere acquired a certain density, as if he had entered a swamp. Heavy
odor entered his nose, stained with the signature estrogen bouquet only Caitlin
could provide. A hand extended, bracing his lithe form against the matchbox.
His opposite palm flew up to his nose. Despite this gesture, he was provided no
relief from his wife’s scent. As he attempted to collect himself, he stumbled
towards his own suitcase, perched precariously along with his matchbox on the
nightstand. A clean, fresh-smelling pair of pale khaki shorts were retrieved.
After slipping himself effortlessly through the baggy articles, Andrew then
reached for one of his folded white shirts. Hesitation struck him, as he
continued to inhale his wife’s foul draft.
He then shut his suitcase, even
taking care to zip it back up. As his gait continued to be hindered by his
woozy disposition, he could hear Caitlin’s gruff voice from afar.
“Gee huh, even from here?”
His eyes veered towards the
sound of her voice. Her tone lacked any trace of teasing. The only aspect he could
detect was pure, unadulterated sincerity.
Andrew gave her a nod, although
his own face had taken upon a slightly somber expression.
Caitlin felt her own eyes fall
as she witnessed her husband languish in her stench. With a thumb, she pointed
to the door as she announced, “Well, I’ll hit the show-”
“-No need.” Andrew interrupted,
shaking his head.
The giantess felt her head
tilt, “Huh?”
With an obsidian glare that
could have been spotted from orbit, her husband declared, “I want you at your
worst when I do this.”
Breath failed Caitlin. Her eyes
had widened as she gazed into Andrew’s own. Not once did he yield, even as her
steel gray orbs lingered upon him.
Slowly, the office man’s legs
steadied underneath. He forced his lungs to soak in the damp air. There were
several hacks he had to force out as he sucked in swampy atmosphere. Yet, he
remained resolute, even under the weight of his wife’s odorous aura.
Caitlin found herself nodding
along. As she did so, she lumbered forwards, towering over the nightstand. An
encompassing hand loomed, pinching her husband. He experienced his legs and
arms swing helplessly in momentum. His stomach flew to his throat, as the hand
that held him descended.
Past his wife’s generous thighs
and looming calves he flew. Upon coming to rest, he was dangling over one of
her feet. He beheld the appendage before him, taking in jutting tendons
stretching from her ankles to her toes, forming small valleys between each.
Several bumps and callouses marked the uneven terrain of skin.
The smell of vinegar tickled
his nose. He fought down the will to cough, or even bring his hand up to shield
his nose. Instead, he remained memorized upon the appendages before him,
looming as large as buildings, with the mass to match. Dawn light washed over
every fold and crevice, reflecting some of the remaining sweat sticking to her
skin. He caught motion, the simple act of her toes flexing. Tones of flesh and
bone, moved by mere instinct. Caitlin most likely was not even aware of her
movements, movements that could shake the ground apart.
Andrew caught his heart
fluttering at the sight below him. He found it difficult to breathe, but this
was not simply due to what wafted into his nose. Seriously, when did feet
become so attractive?
Caitlin’s imposing digits
released him. Upon her warm skin, he landed. Before, he could trace where the
acidic smell of her feet had originated. Now, he could do no such thing, for
her odor had entrapped him. It was above him, below him, to his flanks, on his
skin, in his nose, invading his brain. A cough escaped his mouth, as he
struggled to negotiate the intensity of sensations that had assaulted every
sense.
The voice of the giantess
echoed from the heavens, “Shall we?”
His head veered upward.
Caitlin’s hands had taken ahold of a strip of masking tape. To her, the
adhesive material was fit to stretch between her two hands. As it drew close, Andrew
could tell the pale tan material could engulf his entire body.
Andrew found himself lying flat
on the appendage, which was more akin to an island, or the rooftop of a
building. He had found himself near the top quadrant of her foot. His slight
form lay within a divot, a valley formed by two tremendous tendons; one leading
to her big toe, the other to her second. Near his head, lay the gap between the
two dominating digits. Even in the environment of musk he had found himself in,
he could tell the aforementioned area possessed the most concentrated of her
caustic essence.
The masking tape cast its own
shadow over his form. Andrew found himself swallowing some spittle. He gazed
into the eyes above him, swimming with a million emotions.
“Alright,” Caitlin said,
exhaling in anticipation, “Whenever you’re ready big boy.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be,”
her husband replied.
She froze, stuck in her
kneeling position. The band of adhesive hovered just a few feet over Andrew.
Slowly, the giantess began to retract her hands.
“We could save this ‘till after
the honeymoon you know,” she began to plead, “I’m not having you hurl on me
again.”
A playful smile crossed
Andrew’s face, “It couldn’t have been that hard to clean off.”
Caitlin found herself
scrunching her face. One eyebrow rose in inquisition, “What do you- oh ha ha.”
After laughter died down, her
glare became sharp and serious. “But really, I can control myself until you’re
ready.”
“Can you?” her husband
challenged. His grin had not departed him.
“I-”
A deep sniff cut off her
objection. Even Andrew’s relatively minuscule lungs were able to make noise
enough to register within Caitlin’s grand ears. His inhale was punctuated by an
audible gag, something which gave the impression that he was about to hurl out
his entire trachea. Nothing did exit his mouth.
In fact, despite the smell,
Andrew found that he could not move. Silently, he was relieved that his khakis
were rather baggy, for trying to explain what had popped up beneath them would
be most embarrassing.
“You okay?” his wife inquired.
“I’ve never seen your feet bare
before,” Andrew stated, “At least from where I’m sitting.”
Finally, good cheer returned to
the giantess, as she let a small chuckle slip through her lips. Caitlin mulled
upon her husband’s rather focused expression, as suspicions began creeping into
the back of her mind about his rather peculiar disposition.
“Really?” she questioned,
“Never really thought about that.”
Her hands advanced, bringing
the strip of masking tape along. Finally, his skin made contract with the
sticky material. Andrew felt his flesh sucked into the surface of the strip.
Pressure from his wife’s fingers caused him to sink into the soft of her foot,
dousing him with a fresh sensation of skunk. The entirety of his torso and legs
had been rendered immobile. Even attempting to manage minute movements required
an unthinkable level of effort. Meanwhile, his arms lay free, and now rested
over his sticky bindings.
Peering down his body, Andrew
could not help but notice how the adhesive managed respectively mold to the
outline of his skinny physique.
As Caitlin ran her fingers over
the edges of the tape once more, she inquired, “Seatbelts secured and
fastened?”
“You know another thing I’ve
never seen?” Andrew mused, still peering down his restrained form.
“What?”
“A rollercoaster,” he answered,
“I don’t have the stoma-”
The rest of his words were lost
as the foot the held him veered off to the side. Andrew’s organs failed to keep
up with the rest of his frame, and thus the sensation of sloshing innards
informed the great velocity of movement he had been subject to. As her foot
began to drop, his intestines struggled to remain within his abdomen, while
Andrew’s mouth opened from sheer momentum.
Once her foot impacted the
floor, the miniscule man was subject to a great rattle, felt by muscle, bone,
organ, nerves and blood vessels. His teeth chattered neither from cold nor
anxiety, but from force. A sharp exhale was coerced out of his lungs.
Afterwards, he lay still, his
tape-free arms splayed out. Hands rested upon titanic tendons. As he gazed up
at his wife’s face, directed at him as she paused her gait, his mouth
listlessly held open.
“Have a stomach now?” she
prodded.
Andrew managed to wrench one of
his arms free, giving Caitlin a thumbs up.
As restrictive as the tape was,
Andrew would grow to appreciate his bondage. Every step swung him in a manner
not even the most reckless of drivers could hope to achieve. Perhaps this is
what it’s like, riding a rollercoaster.
Caitlin, meanwhile, had
ventured towards the front door. Her nose scrunched at a pair of pink flip
flops, casually tossed aside in a heap, as was her habit. She peered down at
her feet, growing concerned at her husband’s apparent motion sickness. As she
looked back towards the haphazardly stored footwear, a scowl formed upon her
face.
“Ugh, really going to have to
get some new ones,” she commented.
From down below, her gargantuan
ears picked up the voice of her husband, “I think the color matches you
perfectly.”
Andrew immediately found
himself smothered by fragrant flesh, courtesy of Caitlin’s other foot landing
on top of him. Even though she held back, he could already sense the
immeasurable weight that lay contained above him. His entire face, along with
his tape-wrapped body was completely enveloped in the skin of her sole,
calloused, rough, yet with some give. Skin flaked against his face, while his
wife’s signature smell invaded his very soul.
Her foot, ascended, relieving
him of its immense heft. Dank flesh had to be pulled away, for its moist
surface proved slightly sticky. As Andrew witnessed the bottom of her foot draw
away, he drew breath, and was surprised at how fresh the air tasted.
Caitlin then grabbed her
prospective footware, before slipping both on. One of the straps, a dulled
pink, lay directly behind Andrew’s head, ruffling some of his hair in the
process. Still grimacing at the appearance of the rose colored flops upon her
calloused, sweaty feet, she nevertheless chose to press on.
The giantess ventured through
the door. As she made her way to the beach, she would periodically peer down, made
aware of the stark difference in size her husband was to her foot. Her big toe
was of greater size by a considerable amount. Even the toe nail protecting the
tip was of comparable height to Andrew’s puny form.
For some reason, this caused
her breathing to hasten, if only by a minuscule amount.
Andrew himself was breathing
quite rapidly, which only drew more of the appendage’s musk into his olfactory.
He was still rendered unprepared for the swings of momentum, powered by the
vast, sculpted thighs that lay above. Periodically, as she kept pace, he would
catch her gray shorts bunch and fold, revealing the outlines of his wife
usually left to imagination. With each step, her thighs, her calves would
reveal the forms of sinew and muscle that powered them. Upon every footfall,
once Andrew felt the shock of impact die down, he would catch his Caitlin’s
magnificent chest tremble, almost in-sync with his own heart.
While rapid motions covering
vast distances had hastened his breath, the sight above stole it away.
The sky had taken a blue hue,
far more so than when Caitlin had gone for her run. Once concealed behind
distant hills, the sun was quite clear of the horizon. Its white glare was now
blinding to the naked eye, and even those with proper protection.
While the normal-sized section
had become clogged with beach-goers, resembling a mass of specks from Caitlin’s
vantage, fellow giantesses proved a rare sight. She could spot some in the
distance, but would breathe a sigh of relief once it was determined they had
other business to attend to. Her eyes would then veer back to her husband,
monitoring every aspect, especially if it appeared he would repeat his act from
the previous night.
Her view then settled upon a
titanic form that lay nearby. This giantess lounged in a beach chair. The
lumbar was brought up nearly straight in orientation. Luscious red hair fell
down in wavy locks, over her shoulders, coating her back, and even in front of
eyes concealed by dark sunglasses. Her bikini matched her drapes, though it was
of a deeper, richer shade. It barely covered the flesh of her chest, and was
laced with intricate patterns.
The luxuriously relaxed woman
possessed a most creamy complexion, fair in the fairest sense. Late morning
sunlight allowed her smooth skin to showcase its magnificent luster. Compiling
all aspects of this elegant giantess, Caitlin could not help, but clench her
teeth.
She checked upon Andrew once
more, but he did not appear to notice the nearby titan. For some reason, the
lounging giantess appeared below his attention. Something else had occupied it.
Caitlin’s eyes widened as her
sight settled upon the woman’s feet. While as clean and pampered as the rest of
her, there was a rather distracting addition. While her appendages rested in
rather plain looking tan flip-flops, there was movement that surrounded the
scene. Titanic eyes squinted as they focused, making out the forms of men, and
a few women. They raced between her toes, or were stuck underneath. No matter
where they were, all these minuscule mites were furiously working away,
throwing their backs into massaging her glistening flesh. Others had
accompanied their movements with a peculiar motion of their heads, moving up
and down the area of skin that had entrapped them. It was as if … they were
licking of her flesh.
The woman’s head lazily rose.
Her expression proved unreadable, thanks to her shaded eyeware. Blood-red lips
pursed as she peered down upon the wretches souls slaving away in the shadow of
her feet. “I’m not feeling those tongues slaves,” she sneered, with a voice
that sounded of silky velvet, “Harder! Unless you wish to feel my wrath.”
Caitlin’s own limbs moved by
themselves. She could not be helped but be drawn to the scene. From her
vantage, even from such a distance, she had been able to pick out the anguished
expressions and movements of the insects this woman had claimed ownership of.
As she drew ever closer, her
eyes observed torn fragments of cloth covering waists, unlike any regular
beachgoer. In fact they were dressed in the same manner as the cultists she and
her husband had encountered the previous day.
“Nice to see a fellow woman
here,” rang a siren’s voice, causing Caitlin to be shocked from her stupor. The
woman lowered her glasses, revealing eyes the color of lilac. There was no
ambiguity as to where she had directed her gaze, for her irises veered
downwards, in Caitlin’s general direction.
“I guess you’re teaching a
speck an important lesson?” she mused, a touch of warmth creeping into her
seductive timbre.
Caitlin’s own silvery orbs
briefly looked down, catching Andrew’s rather concerned face. One of her hands
made its way to the back of her head, trembling as it did so. Calloused digits
ruffled her auburn locks, as a new wave of cold sweat poured over her forehead.
“Uh …” she stuttered, “It’s a
long story, but…”
“No need to hide the juicy
details dear,” the woman dismissed with the wave of her hand, “I love hearing
about putting slaves in their place. Tape is a crude, but effective method.”
Down on her foot, Andrew had
finally taken notice of the looming lady in close proximity. The booming voices
raging in the sky demanded his attention. His position afforded him a most
explicit view of the disgraced men slaving away. Toes that loomed as large as a
man crawled with these pathetic creatures. It was as if the awesome appendage
possessed a well of gravity itself, for the wretched souls appeared stuck to
its milky flesh.
Compared to the foot he rested
on, the redhead’s own foot certainly possessed a delicate quality. A sense of
dread ran up his spine, something that, strangely enough, could only be calmed
by gazing at his wife’s course, calloused, hairy, odorous appendage.
There was a shift in the
shadows. Andrew allowed the back of his head to rest in his wife’s musty flesh
as he gazed upwards. Caitlin had shot him a most peculiar gaze, a look that he
possessed no words to accurately describe. It was as if she were a rat, trapped
in a cage with a cat, realizing its destiny was all but decided.
His beloved, a behemoth of over
500 feet, whose physique was imposing, even to those similarly affected, looked
absolutely hopeless.
With just the movement of her
pupils, she directed the office man’s attention to the captured cultists. No
words left his mouth, as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Still he
relented, relaxing his own shoulders, while softening his gaze. This in turn,
caused the underlying muscle beneath to loosen, as if released from
indescribable tension.
Methodically, Caitlin’s
imposing, athletic form shifted ever closer to the crimson-haired vixen. Her
feet came to a stop once they had been parked next to the siren’s soles.
“So,” Caitlin voiced, finding
difficulty in forcing words out of her mouth, “How did you come across these …
uh … slaves.”
The other giantess shot her a
wicked smile, while her voice took on a devious growl, “Would you believe they
begged me?”
As conversation thundered
above, Caitlin’s free foot began teasing her occupied one. The tread of her
flop ran over the adhered tape, loosening its hold with each pass. Andrew noted
that the ability to move his legs returned. Despite the restraining strip
maintaining a significant amount of stickiness, the lanky man was able to
gradually wriggle out of its grasp.
With one last swipe of her
foot, one of the ends of the masking tape flew free, and so did Andrew as he
got on his feet, throwing off the remaining adhesive that dared stay attached.
He knelt down, and pounded his fist upon the foot below, ceasing the motion of
her opposite limb. With one last glare, confirming he was in the most literal
sense, below the notice of the blood-colored menace above, he scrambled off his
wife’s foot, sliding down the edge of her big toe, then launching off the pad
of her flip-flop to the sand below.
Andrew wished to memorize
exactly how even the tread his wife’s flip-flop compared to him, making it up
to his waist. Such musings would be appropriate for later, as he broke out into
a sprint, headed towards the foot of the more delicate giantess.
Up close, he picked out details
that had gone unnoticed. Wrapped around each toes were multiple loops of
string. Each cultist was hindered by a string, wrapped tightly around their
waist. Some, did not require such bindings, despite the fact that they too
possessed it, for they were stuck under the milky flesh of the titan’s sole.
Misery, misery, misery, that
was all the cultist’s faces had decided to present. Andrew recognized the shapely
physique of their leader, buried beneath her large toe. As much of a monster of
a man he was, perhaps a head taller than Andrew, a single digit had rendered
him inert.
Dark eyes also caught several
dark marks strewn across the skin of each cultist. With a grimace, he made his
presence known to them.
“Hey, you guys alright?”
The leader’s tongue retracted
in his mouth. His square jaw scrunched as it assisted him in swallowing bitter
waters. A sullen glare was directed at the office man. There was no doubt, that
the light of worship had been extinguished in his eyes.
“It is not wise for us lowly
slaves to exchange words,” he murmured in a mechanical, rehearsed voice, “the
goddess would surely be angr-”
Andrew folded his arms, and
wasted no time with pleasantries, “Are you guys happy here? It appears you got
exactly what you wanted.”
He witnessed the chiseled man
close his eyes in response. Other cultists began to glare at the free man.
“I heard you … uh … soliciting
my wife here for worship,” Andrew further explained, developing a small blush
upon his own face.
“Indeed, and what a fine
goddess she is,” remarked the leader “But we have made our choic-”
“I can free you from those
knots,” Andrew interjected, squinting at the aforementioned bindings, “They
look like standard double knots. And your ‘goddess’ appears to be otherwise
occupied.”
Feminine voices still rang. The
power they projected would have been more appropriate following a brilliant
flash of lightning. Even as the little men scurrying about the giantess’s foot
carried a conversation, there were no movements indicating a change.
The leader paused in his
movements, his eyes stuck on Andrew. After a moment’s hesitation, he then
shouted out, “Oh heavens please!”
Andrew proceeded, scurrying about,
his feet allowing him to almost glide across the sand. The woman’s foot
possessed an aura of its own. As he began scaling her smooth skin, he detected
the same vinegary funk present upon Caitlin’s foot, although to a greatly
reduced degree. He also picked up a rather strong sensation of lavender. As he
continued to trek across the expanse of the siren’s foot, clear thoughts, and
sharp focus appeared to return to his senses.
As he made his way to each
cultist, Andrew could not help but scrunch his nose in disappointment. The
string, large, wolly and unwieldy, was nevertheless, easily undone. In fact,
it’s so easy, I’m kind of insulted.
Soon, four of the cultists were
freed. Andrew had them still servicing the giantess’s foot, lest she noticed a
difference. The leader still remained pinned under her toe. Andrew leapt across
the bridges of her gaps, as he made his way to him.
A shift in the woman’s foot
caused Andrew to lose his balance. He fell, before being caught in the space
separating her big and second toes. Both vinegar and lavender grew in
intensity, stinging his nose. Andrew stuck his arms out, vainly trying to pry
the digits apart. While he could make indents in her luxurious skin, the toes
themselves never yielded. Growling in frustration, he began wiggling his hips,
and was surprised as his body shifted position, proving he had not been
completely restrained.
Escalating his motions, he
experienced his body sinking. He witnessed the joint of her large toe pass over
him. Soon, his chest cleared her grip, and he fell upon his back, in the sand,
directly under the arch of her prime digit. Scrambling up, he rushed to the
side of the massive mound of flesh, easily undoing the restraints around the
hulking physique of the cult leader.
Grabbing an arm that was easily
twice the size of his own, Andrew threw in his back in pulling. The leader
didn’t budge.
One of the cultists had
ventured to the opposite side of her large toe, taking a most precarious
position in front of her second. He began laying several tender kisses on the
prodigious digit.
As a result, for a brief
moment, the leviathan moved up. Andrew wasted no time, and yanked the built man
out of its shadow. His own lanky physique screamed in pain, as it struggled to
move a man that could have doubled his mass. Fortunately, the powdery sand
below did not provide much resistance.
The ground beneath rumbled as
the vixen’s toe settled back into the sand.
The freemen wasted no time,
scrambling immediately once their leader was on his feet. Andrew took the lead,
directing them towards the larger, grimier monoliths of his wife’s own feet.
While Andrew, the cult leader, and one other climbed up the cliffside of
Caitlin’s mighty appendage, the remaining three sprinted towards the far side,
taking the opposite foot.
Tingles of tiny men scurrying
across Caitlin’s skin sent shivers up her spine. Her attention, once held
captive by the red-headed woman, now found itself redirected, and the velvety
voice became a distant echo.
“… And sometimes to get the
rest of their loyalty, you really run train on one tiny. I once pressed my foot
on one, the less I felt him worship me, the more pressure I applied. I ended up
breaking his ribs and spine, which was a shame, because then he couldn’t
properly serve me .. but the message got through...”
These words might as well have
been spoken into the void, for the men down below paid no heed to her booming
elaborations. In fact, some, including their chiseled leader, began kissing the
very flesh of Caitlin’s feet.
The man was then struck across
the face, forcing himself to face eye-to-eye with a very irate Andrew.
“Hands off the goods you freak!”
The prime cultist rolled his
eyes, “Ugh, exclusivity.”
Nevertheless, he and his fellows
ceased their actions. All then where thrown off balance, as the leviathan they
had hitched a ride on, shifted her feet. Several had to tug on some of the
sparse hairs, in order so that they would not be left in the sand below. Those
on Andrew’s foot took sanctuary underneath the still-adhesive tape.
“-Well that’s very
interesting.” interjected Caitlin, forcing herself to give a wide smile that
strained her jaw, “Nice meeting you!”
There was a despondent sigh.
Caitlin could only wonder how many other horrifying stories of tyranny and
discipline the ginger, self-appointed goddess had stored up to regale her with.
Still, the lavender giantess remained most cordial, as she offered, “If you
have problems punishing your slave, I can break him in for you.”
Caitlin nodded her head with
such frequency, she felt for sure it would rattle off her neck, “I’ll uh … keep
that in mind, bye!”
The siren raised a silky arm,
waving farewell to her newfound peer, “Bye!”
All men, and few women who had
found themselves passengers upon Caitlin’s peds, felt their innards jostled.
The giantess’s pace was brisk, for her sole purpose was to carry herself as far
away from the crimson tormentor as possible. Caitlin experienced the heat of
the sun intensify as noon began to brush aside morning. Combined with her
frantic movements, a new layer of sweat began to coat her skin.
Meanwhile, the luxurious
goliath sat back, her fair complexion ready to take upon a stunning tan. Her
sunglasses had been flipped up over her eyes. She did not even peer down at her
prospective subjects. Instead, she addressed them in a distant manner, as she
felt her eyes come to a close, “I’ll be resting slaves. The least of you will
be my snack, so work hard to please me while I sleep.”
…
A gleeful smirk grew upon
Caitlin’s face as she monitored the redhead resting. While her breath had
hastened due to slight exertion, she nevertheless, emanated pure glee.
“Haha! Sucker!” she shouted.
Even a voice, powered by vocal chords more fit to power a cathedral organ, did
not register to the former, crimson-clad slaver.
The sensation of tickling
traveled across her feet. Caitlin glared down, and scowled upon realizing that
the cultists were servicing her pedal appendages in the same manner as their
previous tormentor.
“Hey! Stop that!”
Her objections, enhanced by
sheer magnitude commanded obedience, and half of the cultists ceased. Others
were nonplussed, and continued drinking in her vinegary excess.
“Oh mighty goddess,” bellowed
their leader, raising his arms, projecting them into the sky, “You saved us
from that wretched succubus! We are forever in your debt. Let us service you
and-”
“-Didn’t you guys even learn a
thing?” she questioned, spitting out consonants with contempt, “You throw
yourselves like that on people, and you’re bound to get bitches like her taking
advantage of you!”
As if to further punctuate her
statement, she folded her arms, puffing up the silhouette of her torso.
At this act of dominance, the
cult leader only nodded, “Ah, wise and beautiful goddess.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, before
barbing, “You guys really do need Jesus.”
As Caitlin scrutinized the six
figures loitering about her feet, a worried look impressed itself upon her
face. One of her hands flew up to her chin, providing a platform for it to rest
upon.
“Wait, weren’t there more of
you?” she wondered, “I thought there were at least 10 of you guys slobbering in
the sand the other day.”
Andrew witnessed the eyes of
the muscled man beside him hollow out. Even his voice, whether in bondage, or
free, lacked his usual fanatical vigor. “Some lost interest, some … weren’t
worthy of life according to the other goddess.”
The office man grew chalk
white.
“They don’t enforce the law
here much, do they?” he stammered, gazing up at the contemplating colossus.
Her silvery orbs darkened, as
if caught in an eclipse. “Not in our zone, even if a reg bites it. You have to
imagine the force they have to bear to even enforce the law. The only thing
they prosecute are kidnappings, and since these guys basically walked into our
zone and threw themselves at her...”
Dread set in Andrew’s stomach.
For once, pungent aromas were not the source of his nausea.
“Good thing I’m taped to you,”
he murmured, “I don’t want other giant gals getting a shine to turning me into
a red puddle.”
“I thought that was what I
wanted out of this life.”
The sun glared off of the prime
cultist’s musculature. No longer did his physique appear to be bulging, as if
the muscles within had involuntarily rested. This man, desperate for dominion
over him, for the first time, had been subdued. But, it was not to the
goddesses he had worshiped.
“I desired to be made mush by a
beautiful goddess, to be subject hopelessly, inexorably to her power. But today
… today has been taxing to that belief.”
Andrew caught slight nods, and
resentful resignation among the rest. Whether they be plump, skinny, man or
woman, the madman’s faithful companions all appeared in agreement.
Their feet dragged, on smelly
flesh, before jumping off into powdery sand. Particles were kicked up as their
paces scraped through the ground. Shoulders slumped, and spines bent. Yet, they
moved forward. Where they were headed, was only known to them.
The massive man paused, even as
his fellows continued. For the first time, a warm, wide smile spread over his
mouth. A twinkle, perhaps of true faith, glistened in his wistful eyes.
“I thank you two,” he said, in
a tone that could have been a whisper, “and well wishes to your future.”
Upon the beach they trudged,
growing ever smaller as they pressed on. Eventually, they were swallowed up by
scenery, their forms no longer discernible against the pale terrain. As to
where they had ventured, up, even further beyond where they had trekked, lay
the fence that divided the giant, from man.
The giantess zone remained
sparsely populated. Caitlin had glanced back, back to where she had encountered
the red-headed vixen, still finding her curvaceous form resting. From the great
distance between them, she could not tell of the expression the other giantess
wore on her face, but she supposed she lay blissfully ignorant of the heist she
and her husband had pulled.
“Shoot, I kinda miss them.”
Caitlin finally blurted out, breaking the momentary silence.
Andrew had taken the time from
the cultists departure to secure the bindings that held him to his wife’s foot.
“What, you liked them schmoozing you over your feet?” An inquisitive eyebrow rose
as he said this.
Caitlin shot back a smirk.
“Jealous?”
“You bet.”
The giantess stifled a giggle,
“Good.”
Her shadow washed over him and
the surrounding area as she bent down, smoothing down the frayed edges of the
masking tape her husband simply could not reach. A finger pressed into his
form, testing the strength of the bond. Upon giving an approving grunt, she
stood back up to her full height.
The passage of time brought
more beach goers, both giantess and regular to the area. Time had also led the
sun to its apex, allowing white-hot heat to beat down, warming the sand and
glistening waters.
A decent line of titans had
formed in front of a wooden shack. The structure, only fit for one occupant,
was painted white, although the coating of color had begun to crack and chip.
Within lay several devices, all in service for quick and easy gastronomy.
Fryers of vast pools of oil bubbled with strips of potato. Containers were
lined up on counters, and filled with various chopped condiments.
A vendor, manning an opening
facing the line of giants, handed out various foodstuffs in trays of cardboard.
She was a plain, young woman with a head of short black hair. Her face was
locked into a professional smile, no matter if she was addressing prospective
customers, assembling orders, or manning the single grill within.
Caitlin had found herself in
this line. Her mouth was wet with anticipation. Despite being in close
proximity with other young ladies of comparable height, none paid heed to the
man strapped to her foot. Some appeared content to instead look upwards, for on
average, Caitlin possessed a head’s worth of advantage over them.
Soon enough, her turn was up.
Scents wafted from within the cramped kitchen, consisting of crisping meat,
boiling fat, and sweating aromatics. Instinctively, her tongue swept across her
lower lip.
The vendor, still wearing a
smile, was still able to widen her eyes in recognition. “Hey,” she said, in a
sweet, steady, almost comforting voice, “You’re the girl that wolfed down those
double bacon cheeseburgers eh?”
Caitlin decided to return her
smile, although her act of cheer appeared more relaxed, with a hint of
playfulness. “I needed something to fuel these puppies.”
One of her arms rose, bending
at the elbows. As she grit her teeth, her bicep began to bulge. At the apex of
her act, a strong vein that ran over the vast dune of muscle made itself
explicitly visible.
Her efforts were rewarded with
a laugh. “Need more?” offered the vendor.
“Actually,” contemplated the
newlywed, “Let’s switch it up. You guys sell chili dogs?”
The vendor nodded, “We sure
do!”
“I’ll have one of those,” she
decided, “You guys make your chili spicy, right?”
“The question is,” began the
woman within the shack, as she leaned forward, as if issuing a challenge, “How
spicy?”
In the span of a few minutes,
Caitlin had marched a way with her prize, seated on a throne of paper-derived
material. A white squishy bun housed an immense sausage that reached half the
length of her arm. The girth of the processed meat-product was also rather
impressive. Not the tastiest sausage I’m looking forward to trying.
Its reddened meat, acquired
from hours of smoking, was not visible beneath the apocalyptic mound of chili.
Meat shined from emulsified fat, submerged in a dark red, bordering on brown
liquid. A smattering of insignificant white onions crowned this beast of beach
food. Caitlin dared not stare at her acquisition for too long, for her eyes
could already feel of the chili’s immense scoville armaments, ready to invade
her mouth.
She had taken a seat at a
wooden table, some measure of distance away from the food shack. As her feet
slid under the shade provided, a cool sigh of relief escaped her mouth.
Relief was also upon Andrew’s
mind, for he immediately experienced a drop in temperature as shadow passed
over him. All that was visible were his wife’s legs. The angle they were
perched at offered no purchase, if he wished to scale their immensity.
Andrew took in a deep whiff,
contemplating the sensation of funky vinegar tickle his nostrils. Not a cough,
gasp or guffaw resulted from this. Even his own state of mind remained steady.
Never did he waver, never, was there an inclination to rest his head.
He inhaled most
enthusiastically once more, as if he were mocking the very air that had given
him trouble earlier that day. Dark eyes glued themselves to every vein, pour
and tendon coursing through the mighty foot he laid upon.
A sly smile crossed his face.
Shimmying his shoulders, he loosened the masking bindings hindering him. While
still strong, the tape had lost a significant portion of its potency. In a few
minutes, he had wriggled free.
On all fours, he lay, staring
at the pulsating skin below. In many ways, he found the sight entrancing. A
siren’s song would have a harder time swaying his desires, than the sight below
him.
Leaning down, he pressed his
parched lips into her flesh. His heart fluttered upon witnessing his wife’s
toes move as a result.
Caitlin, meanwhile, had taken
to task, her annihilation of the mass of protein in her hand. Chili, and juices
of emulsified pork and beef dripped from her mouth, painting the expansive
white canvas of her tank-top. Her tongue
flicked out periodically to retrieve some of the lost, meaty liquid, but even
to such a massive muscle, her actions were in vain. Fatty fluid still dribbled
down her chin.
She would take breaks in
regular intervals, for the substance topping the formidable dog had lived up to
the infamy the vendor had promoted it with. Still, with an arrogant grimace,
Caitlin continued to crudely stuff the remainder of her meal into her mouth.
Down to the last bite, she
experienced a flutter, a familiar tingle upon her feet. It quite closely
resembled what she had sensed during their second run-in with the cultists.
Narrowing her eyes, she then peered under the table.
Caitlin was at a loss of breath
and words as she witnessed her husband enthusiastically bury his face into her
skin. Realization then crossed her face.
“Shoot Andy!” she shouted,
grabbing his attention, “I got my attention robbed by this dog!”
Andrew’s services ceased,
creating a void of feeling that Caitlin did not know could even exist.
Her foot was brought up, along
with her husband. It came to a stop, resting upon the bench she sat on.
Gingerly, a hand descended, as she presented her palm as an adjacent platform.
Andrew automatically advanced, waltzing across the span of her appendage,
before hopping upon her palm. Once his gait ceased, her hand began to rise.
As momentum pressed down upon
him, Andrew could not help but take note of the dark red stains that painted
the tips of Caitlin’s fingers.
He was brought before her face.
Caitlin’s gaping mouth rested just above the horizon. Andrew was blasted with a
breeze entirely composed of raw onion and spice, as well as an underlying meatiness.
So concentrated was her breath, that he immediately felt his appetite
disappear. Still, he managed to maintain a straight posture while gazing into
his wife’s eyes.
“I suppose you’re doing
alright?” she addressed him, sporting a small, but rather welcoming smile.
“I believe things are afoot,”
Andrew confirmed, winking. At this, Caitlin stifled a chuckle.
A hand began to rub the back of
his head, running through thick layers of black locks. “To be honest,” he
continued, “I think we can … uh … move to the next stage.”
Gigantic eyebrows rose, “The
next stage?”
Andrew nodded, “Yeah. Your feet
stink, don’t get me wrong, but I bet they aren’t even close to the worst part
of you.”
Caitlin leaned in, allowing her
maw to invade the proximity of her palm. Andrew instinctively backed away,
before tripping over his own feet, and falling upon his rear. A low growl
lurked within her tone as she pressed, “And pray tell, what would the worst
part of me be?”